by Peter Parkin
Their plan was simple—capture Samson and take him back with them to the police. What happened to him after that they could only hope for, but at least they would prevent the guy from leaving the country. Mike deduced that he had no chance whatsoever if the man escaped. His only chance of redemption was to grab the bastard, hold him, and deliver him. After that, whatever happened was up to fate.
*****
It was Wednesday, and Mike was a man on a mission. One day to go until their dangerous caper, and he was feeling a bit scared about what could happen to him and his buddies—actually a lot scared.
He was driving north from his rented apartment towards his house in Rosedale, using Yonge Street today because traffic was light. It had bogged down on most of the secondary roads and he figured most drivers had assumed Yonge Street would be even worse. So they avoided it, and Mike had basically a traffic-free drive because of their paranoia.
Traffic around Toronto had been chaotic since the subway attacks. A large portion of the northern line was destroyed, and the entire section of the east connector route would be closed until reconstruction was completed on the north route. This would take at least two years by all accounts, which meant Torontonians would have to become accustomed to finding more creative ways of getting to work.
After a few days of Mike hovering over Cindy following the attack, she had asked him to move out again. She said his presence reminded her too much of what had happened at the school gym, a horror she chose not to revisit in her mind. So, Mike reluctantly packed his bags once again and moved back to his apartment. He understood, of course. Post-Traumatic Stress was what Bob Teskey had diagnosed, and Bob would continue to treat Cindy until she was largely over the shock. Mike was comforted knowing that she would have the best of care from a doctor who was also a family friend.
So today, the day before the big takedown, Mike wanted to see his family—not to scare them by telling them what he was doing, but just to see them, kiss them, say a subtle goodbye...just in case. And after that, he had one more important visit to make today—to see Ali and Jonas. To say his goodbyes to them as well. They had become almost as important to him as his own family. He didn't completely understand why. Well, part of him had an inkling—the bullying of Jonas and the brutality that his mother had faced with her husband. Their vulnerability had touched him and brought back painful memories of how cruel he himself had been in high school, a past that had now returned to haunt him—and incredibly, an entire city as well—decades later.
Mike pulled into his circular driveway and noticed another car was already parked at the front entrance. He thought he recognized the car, then confirmed it when he saw the license plate with the block letters 'MD' preceding the numbers. Bob Teskey was here. Damn—he wanted to see Cindy and the girls alone. Bob must have dropped in to check on Cindy because she had been reluctant to go out on her own for appointments since the attack.
Mike used his key and opened the front door. Silence. Something stopped him from calling out. He walked around the main floor first. Then he headed up the stairs. The door to their bedroom was closed. Mike held onto the doorknob and paused to catch his breath for a brief moment. Summoning up the courage, he turned the knob and flung the door wide open.
Cindy was naked on their bed, face down, with a naked Bob kneeling over her massaging her back. Bob turned at the sound, but Cindy didn't seem to react at all; as if she hadn't even heard the door open.
Mike stood in the doorway, mouth open, arms trembling, fists clenching. He couldn't think of any words to shout that would suit the image that was assaulting him from their bed. It was like a bad dream.
Bob jumped from the bed and grabbed for his clothes that were draped over the night table. Cindy turned her head lazily and looked back at Mike. Her face suddenly mirrored the shock that was all over Mike's face. They stared at each other, their eyes reflecting the anguish that both of them felt at that moment.
Bob had his clothes on in mere seconds and cautiously made his way toward the doorway that Mike was standing sentry over. When he got within a few feet, he scratched the top of his head and with a squeak in his voice, said, "I know this doesn't look good, Mike. But it's not Cindy's fault—it's mine. Please don't blame her. It just happened."
Mike could feel his temples throbbing, and fists clenching so hard that the palms of his hands felt like a thousand knives were digging into them. He slowly raised his arms toward a boxing position, and Bob jumped backwards, stark fear on his face. Bob had been hit by Mike before, and must have remembered it as clearly as if it were yesterday.
Mike wanted to punch the shit out of the sleazy prick so badly, but then he realized with some surprise that for the first time he had some control over this. The focus of his sharp mind was causing the anger to subside and he could feel his fists slowly unclench.
"I'm not going to hit you, Bob. I don't want an assault charge complicating my presentation to the medical board to have your license revoked. You will never practice again. I'll be happy to see you disgraced."
Bob began sputtering. "Mike...there's no...need for that. We've been friends...forever."
"Yes, we have, Bob. That's exactly the point, isn't it? Now get the fuck out of my house before I change my mind and rip your cock off and ram it up your ass!"
Mike adjusted his stance to allow Bob to pass by him. The man wasted no time, racing through the door and taking the stairs down three at a time.
Mike turned his attention to Cindy. She was sitting up in bed now, a sheet wrapped around her, head in her hands, sobbing, sniffling.
He walked slowly over to the bed, and sat down on the edge. He put his hand on the back of her head and gently ruffled her hair just the way she always liked. She cried harder. Mike put his arm around her shoulders and hugged her. She looked up at him, enquiring, puzzled.
He gazed back at her. "It's okay. I think I understand. I'm sad, but I'm not angry."
Cindy's face was flushed a deep red, and her eyes were bloodshot from the crying. "Mike, I feel sick. It didn't mean...anything to me. I love you...and I'm so sorry. You've just been...different lately. I've been so confused."
"Shhh. Go to sleep, Cindy. I'm okay. Goodbye, and say goodbye to the girls for me."
*****
Mike pulled up in front of the little red clapboard house, still in a daze, but focused on his next goodbye. He was doing his best to shut out the image of his wife naked on the bed with their doctor. There was a pain somewhere in the area of his heart, but he ignored it.
He headed up the walkway and knocked on the door. Ali opened up within seconds, greeting him with a smile that lit up the street. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the earlobe. "You love to surprise me, don't you? Jonas and I are so lucky to have you pop in on us like this. Always makes our day!"
Mike smiled and hugged her back. It felt right. It felt real. It felt like she had always been in his arms.
Jonas came running when he heard Mike's voice. They jostled a bit, then settled down into a kind of father/son discussion. Jonas told Mike all that had happened since the last time he visited. He was back at school and the big kids weren't making fun of him as much. He was now enjoying school again, which warmed Mike's heart to hear.
"And Jonas has just graduated into the third phase of his speech therapy," Ali chimed in eagerly. Mike ran his fingers through Jonas' hair and then hugged him tightly. Jonas hugged him back just as hard.
Ali made dinner for the three of them—lasagna, her specialty. It was delicious. They chatted at the table for an hour before she shooed Jonas off to bed. He protested, but to no avail. Ali was a good mother, kind and stern—the right combination of both. Ali took Mike by the hand and led him into the living room, guiding him onto the couch. She then went to the kitchen and came back seconds later with a bottle of champagne.
"What's that for?" Mike asked innocently.
"We have two things to celebrate tonight—Jonas's success in his speech therapy, and
my graduation as a Nurse Practitioner. I'm no longer just a Registered Nurse. I can now perform some of the same functions that doctors can perform! My salary will go up dramatically, so we won't need your financial help anymore."
"Oh, that's so wonderful. I'm ecstatic for you, Ali. But now I no longer have an excuse to come visit you guys."
Ali moved closer to him and whispered, "Yes, you do. We need you, for just being you. How's that for a good excuse?"
Mike nodded his head. "Yep, that's a good one. I'll use that one." He smiled tenderly at her, entranced by the gleam in her eyes.
Then to his shock he just blurted it out. "I caught my wife in bed with our doctor tonight."
Ali just looked at him with sadness in her eyes and said nothing. Instead, she gently held him by the hand, her other hand grabbing the champagne ice bucket, and led him off the couch and into her bedroom. Mike felt his willpower begin to melt away.
He stood in the dark bedroom, knowing what was about to happen— conflicted, not knowing whether it should happen. But a part of him was saying that this was happening as it was intended to happen. It was intended that he catch his wife in bed with Teskey tonight, and it was intended that he would be here at Ali's tonight saying a goodbye. A goodbye that had now turned into something else, something wonderful, something...intended.
He continued to stand still, waiting for...something. He heard a rustling behind him, felt her arms wrapping around his chest, then the feel of gentle fingers undoing the buttons of his shirt, followed by his jeans dropping to the floor. Ali slid the shirt off his back and pressed against him. He could feel that she was already naked, her soft firm thighs rubbing against his, her nipples getting hard against his back. She swayed to and fro, rubbing her lovely breasts against him. Mike tried to turn around and exert some control, but she held him firm. She wasn't finished yet. She slid her tongue down the middle of his back and onto the flesh of his buttocks. Mike groaned.
He could smell her perfume, Chanel #5, wafting into his nostrils, could hear her heavy breathing as she licked his body. He felt helpless as she went to work, and was more than aware of the sweetly painful bulge in his tight underpants as she continued to make him wait. She wouldn't let him turn around and feel her and it was driving him crazy. A good kind of crazy.
She pushed him gently onto the bed and pressured her hand on one side to indicate that she wanted him face up. He obeyed—he was putty in her hands now. He looked up. In the darkness of the room she was just a silhouette, a beautiful ghost working wonders on his senses. Ali sat on his lap as he lay there helpless. She swayed back and forth, slowly, seductively. His penis was throbbing but she wouldn't let him penetrate. She left him wanting it, crying for it. Her beautiful body was like a mirage, a blurry image against the backdrop of the ceiling.
Suddenly she leaned toward the side of the bed and reached her hand into the champagne bucket, scooping a handful of ice and popping it into her sensuous mouth. She swirled it around and to Mike's glorious shock, spread her mouth across his right nipple. The freezing cold of the ice, contrasting with the heat that now enveloped his entire body, made him shudder.
She wasn't finished with him yet. He watched her move, reveled in the motion and touch of her tongue, and then gazed in fascination as she reached across the bed once again, grabbed the champagne bottle and took a swig. Once again, she swirled the contents around in her mouth.
She pulled her hair back with both hands, lowered her head and pounced on his erect penis, swallowing it, allowing the champagne bubbles to stimulate the tip. Mike at first fought the urge to scream, then decided to just let it out. Hearing the sound of his anguished cry reverberate around the room, he looked up at her pleadingly as she raised herself into position. He knew she was smiling but it was too dark to tell. Alison took him, all of him, and he knew at that moment the torture he had just endured had been the most exhilarating feeling of his entire life.
Chapter 43
It was Thursday, and the three friends were bracing themselves for whatever this day would bring. They were silent as Troy drove them eastward in his Chrysler 300 along the Gardiner Expressway. As they swerved north along the Don Valley Parkway, Mike could feel the butterflies start. He looked over at Troy, eyes focused on the road, a stern look of determination on his face. Glancing into the back seat at Jim, Mike caught his eyes for an instant. Jim quickly looked away. He had been biting his fingernails all morning and Mike noticed that one of Jim's fingers was bleeding a bit. He handed him back a tissue. Jim just nodded, wrapped it around his finger and looked out the window again.
Mike went over the plan in his mind. It wasn't all that sophisticated. They were really just going to wing it and hope for the element of surprise. None of them were experienced at this covert stuff, so they would have no choice but to just follow their instincts. They were each dressed in black: black suits, black ties, shiny black shoes, the look capped off with intimidating sunglasses. Well, Mike hoped they were intimidating, or at the very least official looking. Jim had made up the laminated Transport Canada identification badges, and they were clipped to their lapels. Mike was pleased. Jim had done a great job as usual, and these badges looked like the real thing. The red Canadian maple leaf should succeed at opening doors easily for them and keep the curious questions at bay.
"Troy, did you pack your gun?"
Troy patted his hip. "Yes, boss. Right here."
"Did you put a fresh cylinder in?"
Troy smirked. " Do you think I'm daft? Of course I did. It's locked and loaded."
"Good." Mike turned to look out the side window. He thought back to his exhilarating experience with Ali the night before, and tried to make some sense out of it. But he'd pretty much given up on that. It was too amazing and too unexpected to try to rationalize. Why it felt so right to him, he had no idea.
But he was going to enjoy re- living it because it had been the most exciting... and the most lingering...sexual experience of his entire life. He pictured her in his mind, a dark intoxicating shadow swigging champagne, then dive-bombing him, bubbles tickling his penis, stimulating it beyond belief. The daydream he was having was so realistic that he could feel a woody coming on. He quickly folded his hands over his lap in embarrassment. What would his friends think if they noticed he was having an erection at a time like this?
His thoughts were brought back to earth by the vibration of his cell phone. Mike pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. Cindy. He hesitated for a couple of seconds, not sure whether or not he wanted to talk to her. Then he broke down and punched the button. "Hi, Cindy."
"Mike, I'm so glad I reached you. I know you probably don't want to talk to me, but I wanted to let you know that the RCMP are here right now. They had a search warrant so I couldn't stop them. They're looking for you too. I think they want to arrest you." She paused, and Mike could hear her crying. Then she came back on. "Mike, what is going on? How did we get to this point? I don't know what to do, don't know what to say to you. Why do they want you?"
Mike cringed. A search warrant. It was happening.
"Settle down, Cindy. And don't think about last night, okay? We'll talk about that later when we're both much calmer. As for the search warrant, just stay out of their way. I can't talk about why they may want to arrest me, not yet. Trust me, I'm the good guy but it may be hard to prove. I'm working on that."
"Mike...what can I do? I love you."
"Nothing you can do. Just don't tell them you talked to me."
"Where are you, Mike?"
"Can't tell you that, Cindy. I gotta go. Goodbye hon."
Mike felt tears start to roll down his cheeks as he clicked off. He put his phone back in his pocket only to feel it immediately start vibrating again. He pulled it out and looked at the screen. Stephanie. "Hello, Steph."
"Mike, it's chaos over here. The RCMP came in with a search warrant. They're tearing your office apart right now. Everyone here knows—they're panicking."
"Okay, Step
hanie—just let them do their thing. Nothing we can do to stop them."
"Mike, what's going on? Why are they searching your office?"
"Can't tell you that, Stephanie. Just trust me when I say that what they're looking for I had nothing to do with. Gotta go."
Mike looked over at Troy and Jim. "It's goin down, guys. Right now— simultaneous search warrants at my house and our office."
*****
Troy was turning off Highway 404 onto 16th Avenue in Markham. He and Mike exchanged glances as signs appeared announcing Buttonville Municipal Airport. Mike looked at his watch—12:45 p.m. They had plenty of time to get to the plane before it was scheduled to leave at 2:00. It was probably being serviced right now in preparation. Troy turned onto the road leading to the airport terminal and made a sharp right onto a driveway that led to a parking lot for the private charters and flight training center. The Skyspace hangar with its dramatic blue and yellow logo signage was dead ahead. Mike motioned Troy to park at the far end of the parking lot, just in case Samson knew the make and color of Troy's car. Mike doubted it—Samson had already seen Jim's car near the alley that day when Mike was beaten up, and he most likely knew all of the cars Mike owned. But Troy's car had been invisible so far.
They exited the car and began their walk. Troy buttoned his suit jacket to make sure the gun wasn't visible. Mike led the way and whispered over to his two friends, "Walk tall and confident, guys. We need to show some government arrogance here to be believable."
They wanted to avoid the main terminal. Too much bureaucracy there and it wasn't necessary for them to visit the terminal anyway for what they had to do. The private hangar area was what they wanted, and there were several hangars. But Skyspace was the only one that interested them.