by Mary Moylum
“You think I wanted this appointment to the IRC? You think I care about the luckless and the losers? You think I care about refugees and their precious persecution? I wanted the Transportation Commission but the old man wouldn’t hear of it. I never forgave him for that.”
“No one was holding a gun to your head. You had free choice.”
He gave a bitter laugh as he pulled a gun out of his suit jacket pocket, and pointed it straight at her. “What do you know about it?”
“What are you doing?” she asked, squeezing her hands together in an effort to fight the waves of panic washing over her.
“You, Grace, are a loose cannon. And unfortunately, with the old man dead, you’ve got no one on your side.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No, I didn’t, though there are benefits to him being dead. One master is always better than two.”
“You’re now working for Sun? That’s why you were trying to railroad me into going positive on his case.”
“You could put it that way.”
Grace stared at the gun. “So what’s next? Are you going to kill me now?”
“Don’t tempt me,” said Cadeux with an angry twist of his lips.
“The guard knows I’m in the building and you’d be caught immediately.” She thought fast. Maybe she could get him to believe she’d work with him. “Why don’t we talk it over? Do a trade.”
“Trade what?”
“I’ve got evidence that’s very incriminating. Notes that Wa Sing left behind regarding payoffs that you received.”
“Ahh, the voice from the grave. The computer diskette the old man kept talking about. You’ll hand that over.”
“If I die, they’ll be found.”
“I think you’re bluffing. You’ll give me what you got from the old man’s house.”
“Jean, whatever crimes you’ve committed, you don’t want to add murder to the list,” said Grace, racking her brain for a way out of this mess.
“Who said anything about murder? You hand over the notes and whatever else you took from the old man’s house, and we’ll talk about it. If we can’t reach an understanding — well, maybe you’ll kill yourself.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You were distraught over the old man’s death, and full of shame after I fired you. You can put it all in a suicide note.” He waved the handgun in front of her. “Come on. Let’s go get it.”
Don’t panic, Grace told herself. Thinking fast, she said, “Before we go back to my place, I’m afraid I need to use the ladies’ room. I’ve got my period.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “It’s true. If you don’t believe me, I’ll pass you my dirty tampon,” she bluffed.
As he weighed the situation, she bravely walked away from him, turning right towards the ladies’ room. He followed her inside.
“Don’t try anything funny because I won’t hesitate to shoot you,” he said, waving the gun at her.
“If you shoot me, I warned you, the evidence goes to the press.”
“Grace, you don’t scare me. Let’s get this over with.”
Closing the stall door, she sat on the lid and collected her thoughts as she unwrapped a clean tampon and pushed the wrapper underneath the stall. That would enhance her credibility and buy her a precious minute or two. Holding the cellphone close to her, she dialled Dubois’s direct number that Nick had given her, and whispered a help message while she flushed the toilet simultaneously.
“Hurry up in there.” Cadeux banged on the stall.
“Almost done,” she said as she hit the redial button before dropping the cellphone back into her bag. She contemplated the gun for a second, but unfortunately, she was dressed in T-shirt and jeans, and there was no place to hide it on her body. After she had washed her hands, they left the ladies’ room and silently rode the elevator up to the lobby level. “Don’t speak as I sign us both out. Let me do the talking,” ordered Cadeux. “Remember, I’m going to have the gun pointed at your back.”
He signed them out in the log book and said goodnight to the security guard.
Sitting behind the wheel with a gun pointed at her head, Grace let out a deep breath, trying again to fight the panic rising in her chest. If she was going to come out alive after tonight, she had to keep her wits about her. Slowly, she pulled onto Wellington Street. No police cruiser in sight. Where the hell were they when you needed them?
“You don’t have to keep pointing that thing at me. I can only do one thing at a time.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him place the gun in his lap. “Don’t try anything stupid, Grace.”
“Would I be that stupid?” Her heart was racing. What to do next? Not one cop car on the Parkway. “It’s not too late to negotiate this thing. We’re two reasonable people,” pleaded Grace.
“Too late.”
For once in her life she wished that she lived further away from the office. Nope, it didn’t look good as she pulled up on her driveway. The police had not yet arrived.
“Get out of the car!”
Her head was pounding with every step she took into her house. As she disarmed the alarm, she noticed one of the numbers on the panel was flashing. Did that mean the police were coming? But she had too much on her mind to sort it out. She had to keep Cadeux talking, to buy herself time for Dubois to get here.
“Did you know or ask about these people you were fast-tracking? Were they criminals on the run from their own country? Or were they merely opportunists?”
“I never asked because I don’t care. When you’re getting five grand for every application you sign, does it matter who they are? Besides, it wasn’t like I was the only one. How do you think this government came to power? Who do you think contributed to their election campaign?” He gestured with the gun, indicating that she should keep moving. “There’s big money to be made in smuggling. It takes money to get power, and to stay in power.”
“And how does it feel when you look at yourself in the mirror?”
Cadeux was standing in her living room, looking at her vindictively. He seemed almost happy, now that he was pointing a gun at her.
“You’ve no idea how I hated you, Grace.”
“Pardon me? What did I ever do to you?” She put her shoulder bag down on a side table, acutely aware of the weight of the gun inside it. How to get at it?
“It’s what you didn’t do. The old man wanted to keep you clean. He didn’t mind soiling my hands in the least.”
“Have respect for the dead. Wasn’t it enough that you were on the receiving end of his largesse when he handed you this plum appointment?”
“You call it a plum appointment? I call it crap — I deserved better. I was right in the line of fire. The old man didn’t give a damn about asking me to do his dirty work.”
That explained the animosity he had always shown towards her.
In an effort to deflect his anger, she said, “So they used you. What I don’t understand is, when exactly did you meet Sun Sui?”
He followed into the dining room. “A couple of months before the California Jupiter dumped 634 migrants off the B.C. coast.”
In a pretence of showing empathy, she said, “You mean, they deliberately set you up for that? So that you could sign off on all those migrants on that ship?”
“Yeah.”
“When Wa Sing was arrested, the RCMP asked him to name names. He looked at me and said my boss. All that time I thought it was the minister of immigration. He was really referring to you. My direct boss. Not the minister himself.”
He shot her a nasty look. “Shut up! You know too damn much. I could kill you right here. Give me whatever you took from Wa Sing’s house now!”
Was Dubois even on the way? Had her message been received?
“I left some of the papers at his house.”
“Well give me what you took.” She felt the gun pressed into the small of her back. She couldn’t help wondering if she was going to be alive after tonig
ht. The truth was, she was scared of him. Psychologically and practically, his back was already against the wall. It would take very little to push him over the edge, and make him pull the trigger.
She handed him a diskette. “Aren’t you going to look at it?”
“What for? I believe you.”
Just then, the phone rang.
“I think I should answer that.” She quickly moved towards the phone in the hallway. “I’m expecting my mother and boyfriend to call. It could be either one of them,” she lied. Luckily, the phone in the hallway was the only one in the house without caller ID. “If I don’t pick it up, they’ll suspect something’s not right.”
“See who it is,” Cadeux said impatiently. “And make it quick.”
“Grace, it’s Dubois. Is everything all right?”
Cadeux leaned next to her to eavesdrop on the conversation. How to tell him that she was in trouble? In a trembling voice she said, “No, honey, it’s not all right. I’m so sorry about last night.”
“Ehh?”
She could hear the RCMP officer’s confusion on the other end. Quickly, she added, “Listen, Andre, I can’t talk to you right now. There’s someone here. And yes, I think we should resume our relationship. I’ll stop seeing Nick. Promise, promise. And I’m so sorry that I dumped you through e-mail. That was real shitty of me.”
“Huh?”
“We need time to sort out our affair. I’ve got someone here with me. This is not a good time. Can you understand that?” She quickly hung up the phone. Oh please, God, make him realize that something’s wrong. Her shoulders slumped forward, and her body sagged against the wall. Hurry, Dubois.
“Let’s write that suicide note now.”
She ran her sweaty palms down the sides of her legs. She needed to give Dubois time to get here. Taking a deep breath she said, “Can I ask you something? There are one or two more questions I’d like answers to before I leave this world.”
“That’s always been one of your problems, Grace. You want to know too much.”
“Whose idea was it that I preside on Sun’s claim?”
“Sun’s idea. He had this stupid notion that just because you’re cute, you’d be a pushover. I went along with it because I wanted to dirty your hands. I had to keep tabs on you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I had your phone line tapped and periodically I would go into your computer and check your files.”
“All those times I couldn’t access my files, you were reading them?”
“And reporting to Sun everything I learned.”
“But he was under police watch the entire time.”
Cadeux smiled. “That may be so. But on two occasions he gave the cops the slip when he switched places with his driver by putting on the man’s uniform.” He turned up the dimmer. “Pick up the pen.”
“Isn’t there any other way we can do this? As long as I’m on the bench, I can do you a lot of favours. If I’d known what was going on I could have helped you more. I still could.” If he believed that she was as corruptible as he was, he might be tempted.
“No, Grace. You know and I know that isn’t going to happen.”
She sat down and slowly picked up the pen. What if she just refused to write it? Then there would be no suicide note, and he would have to shoot her right there and then. That way, at least nobody could mistake her death for anything but a homicide.
The doorbell rang. They both jumped out of their skins. She almost wept in sheer relief.
“Who the hell is that?”
“My boyfriend. I told him not to come. You heard me tell him.” Grace could hear the panic in her own voice. Would he lose control and start shooting?
Dubois’s face peered in through the living-room window. “He’s seen us. I’ve got to open the door.”
“Get rid of him.” He walked behind her, with the gun pressed into her back.
She opened the door.
“Grace, what the shit is going on?”
She tried to signal him with her eyes to be careful of Cadeux. “Nothing’s going on, Andre. I wish I could invite you in for a cup of tea, but it’s late and as you can see, I’m not alone.”
Dubois looked blank for a moment, but he picked up on her body language. In a voice full of bonhomie, hand extended toward the other man, he said, “Hi, I’m Andre. Don’t tell me she’s seeing you now.” He shook his head. “First me, then Nick. Now you.”
Cadeux did not offer his name and his right hand stayed behind her back. Dubois’s hand was still outstretched but Cadeux made no move.
Her breath coming fast, the bubble of fear inside her on the verge of bursting, she said, “Andre, this is not a good time for me. Really.”
Dubois dropped his hand to his side and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, hand on the door knob. “If that’s the way you want it, Grace, I’m going.” He observed the other man visibly relax his posture. In an effort to separate them, Dubois took a step toward Cadeux. “Watch out for this girl, friend. Don’t get burned like I did.”
Cadeux moved to Grace’s other side. “Thanks for the advice,” he said. The gun was now in his left hand but in the second before he could press it into her back, Dubois moved, quick as a rattlesnake. Cadeux tried to maintain his balance as he lashed out at the RCMP officer, but he was awkward. Dubois deftly delivered a punch to Cadeux’s solar plexus. The blow sent Cadeux reeling backwards. As his knees buckled from under him, he fell against the radiator. As he went down, the gun fell clattering on the floor.
Grace dived for the weapon while Dubois handcuffed Cadeux. As they waited for police backup, she quickly explained the situation to the RCMP officer.
As two uniformed officers led him away, Cadeux snarled at her. “You’re fired, Grace.”
“Coming from you, thanks.”
Dubois said reluctantly, “Grace, I have to ask you to come down to the station to make a statement. I realize you’ve been through a lot, but there’re rules.”
Grace slumped forward with her head in her hands. “Do you mind? Could we do it tomorrow? I’m completely wrung out.”
Dubois hesitated, but nodded. “Okay. But I’m leaving a car here to keep the place under surveillance. Who knows what else is out there?”
“Thank you for that,” said Grace, accompanying him to the door. “As a backgrounder, you’ll want to look at this.” She handed Dubois the diskettes from Wa Sing’s house. “It’s all there.”
She closed the door behind her and sat down in a raggedy heap at the bottom of the stairs. She was emotionally and physically exhausted. What a bloody long night. It was after two in the morning. All she wanted to do was to crawl into bed, if only she had the energy. For a long moment she sat still. She was falling asleep where she sat. Drowsily, she tried to open her eyes but they were too heavy. As her head nodded forward, she was grabbed from behind by her hair. Out of nowhere a hand whipped across the back of her skull, leaving a stinging, hot band of pain.
She felt a pair of arms lift her and slam her forward against the wall.
“Bitch.”
She couldn’t imagine what was happening. She tried to scream but could barely draw breath. Was this a dream?
“I’ve waited so long for our date, lady judge. Too bad your friends didn’t stick around.”
He spun her around until they were face to face. She was awake now. It was the stalker. His eyes were white with flat black irises. Dead eyes.
His large, hairy hands gripped her tight around the neck.
“You got my friend killed that night on the Parkway. We offed your friend Mark Crosby. Guess we’re even, bitch.”
His beard loomed above her. It stank, and his breath was hot and sour on her face. Her field of vision was growing black around the edges.
“I saw how you let that boyfriend of yours run his hands up and down your body. I want the same from you, bitch.” He partially loosened his grip on her. “Take off ya damn clothes.”
Her body went
rigid. He was going to rape her before he killed her. There was a police guard outside! How could this be happening? She tried to look compliant as her brain worked overtime, trying to figure out how to save herself. If she could only get to the window.
“Let me take my shoes off first.”
He released her other arm, backed away to take a seat on the hallway bench. In that instant, she sprang up the stairs two at a time. The bedroom had a deadbolt. She had to get into her bedroom. Just as she reached the top, she felt the back of a hand come down on her head.
“Bitch, don’t ya do that again.” Knife in one hand, he pressed the blade into the space just between the bottom of her T shirt and waistband of her jeans. The coldness of the steel made her body go rigid. The cotton parted easily under the blade of the knife.
As she struggled in his grip, she saw the glint of serrated metal in his hand.
“Oh God, please don’t do that,” she begged. How to reason with a madman?
She started to whimper when he flicked the blade upward against her brassiere. Slowly he circled one breast with the tip of the blade.
“God, no, please,” she begged.
Then she felt the cold sharpness of steel against her ribcage. She could feel the warmth trickle down her belly. Oh God, to die like this.
She felt abandoned. What were they doing outside?
“Strip those jeans off your body, bitch.”
“Please, can’t we talk about this?”
“Shut the fuck up! We ain’t got nothing to talk about. After I fuck ya, I’m gonna slice and dice ya.”
He tore the jeans from her body with the knife. She started to cry. If only she could signal to the officers sitting in the cruiser outside her front door. Flash the lights on and off — anything. Through her tears she could see him release his belt and unbutton his fly. Oh God, help me. He displayed himself proudly to her. Nick, Dubois — why weren’t they here to save her? Her body started to shake.
He bore down on her, pinning her arms down with his. His glassy eyes leered at her.
Begging for her life, she cried, “Please, don’t do that. Oh, God, help me,” she begged. Just as she started to scream, she heard a hissing sound. A feral snarl came from behind her.