Blue Rubicon (14 page)

Nothing illegal, yet.

A number of boxes made
their way from the truck to the building and then the packages changed, to
large plastic cases. They looked like gun cases but I couldn’t be certain, I
still needed more.

I closed down the video
and opened up a folder titled ‘Delivery’. A series of photos came up and I
clicked on the first, waiting for it to appear on the screen. The image was
date stamped as well, this one marked a week later than the video. The first
image showed the doors once more and as I scrolled through the photos a
different truck came into view. This time though, the zoom was incredible and
the resolution far better. The boxes were generic, nothing written on them to
give me a hint as to what they were shipping.

Instead of plastic cases,
they then began unloading rifles and shotguns. It was obvious from the
appearance of the weapons that they weren’t for shooting ducks and deer—these
were combat weapons. The kinds favoured by underworlders worldwide.

Combat shotguns, AK-47s,
and MP5 machine pistols—and others I couldn’t identify. I was going to need
some serious firepower to match that if I had any hope of taking them on.

I’d been saving the best
folder for last. There were still plenty of videos for me to view, and likely
more photos as well. Carter had done his job well. His surveillance skills were
incredible, and the fact that they didn’t seem to know he was doing it until he
filed the warrant—he should have been in the CIA.

Suspects.

I opened the folder and
viewed the names.

William Moore—OPP. The
property Sergeant.

Yusef Mohammed—OPP.

Gregory Adams—LPS. London
Police Service.

Rachel Bellamy—OPP. Nice
to see a female in the list.

Mikael Vlacic—WPS.
Windsor.

Mark Davidson—OPP.

Shit. I thought back to
the recording Carter had made in the car the day he was killed.

“What about Davidson?”

I hadn’t even considered
it at the time, but now with the first name… Mark Davidson, former Western
Region Staff Sergeant working patrol, now an Inspector in the Toronto Highway
Division.

An Inspector. It really
did go high.

They were the only ones named. The rest were unknown and
marked accordingly. Folders marked ‘Unknown 1’ to ‘Unknown 4’ stared back at
me.

I opened number three, the one Carter thought he was
meeting.

The face looked familiar once the photo appeared on screen.
He had told Carter he was LPS and showed his badge, which Carter didn’t
question. I knew him from somewhere but it could have been anything—I’d met
many LPS officers over the years at various investigations, police funerals,
memorials and more. He was young, probably no more than thirty and
clean-shaven, something that pointed to a uniformed officer. The undercover
guys, especially the drug squad always had dirty, long beards.

One of the pictures showed him getting out of a yellow
Mustang, a new one by the looks of things, but none of the images showed the
licence plate. If it was him, there might be a way to confirm that the engine
revving on the audio recording came from that model of car. But that was
outside of my skill set. Carter’s statement that the killer looked like number
three and drove the same car would have to be enough for now.

I couldn’t place him no matter how hard I tried so I went
back and looked at the first unknown suspect. A young white male with a skull
tattooed on his neck. This would be one of the criminals hired to do the
smuggling. I didn’t know of any cops with neck tattoos.

Unknown two was a white male who looked to be in his
fifties. He had facial hair, not shaped but as though he hadn’t shaved in some
time. Yet another one I didn’t recognize. The age was a fit to Kara’s father’s
friend, Robert Warren. I e-mailed the image to Kara, hoping she would get it
soon. It was still in the afternoon back home.

The final unknown was only pictures of the back of a head.
Male, short-haired, olive skin tone. I couldn’t make out anything else.

My phone rang in my pocket. It was Kara. It had to be. I
didn’t even get the chance to speak.

“It’s him, Link. It’s him.” I could tell she’d been crying.
“I’ve been trying to find him, but no one knows where he is.”

“We’ll find him, just wait for me to get back.”

Kara paused, the sound of renewed crying filled the gap. “I
can’t guarantee it, Link. Just get here before I find him… please.”

It was if she was pleading with me to stop her, to keep her
from doing what she’d been thinking about for twelve years.

“I’ll call you as soon as I land,” I said. I could almost
hear Kara nodding.

“Okay,” she said before she hung up.

I turned off the phone and put it back in my pocket. My head
fell to my hands as I tried to figure out what to do next. Kat’s hand on my
shoulder brought me out of it.

“It’s him?” she said.

I nodded. “Kara’s trying to find him now. If she does…”

“I know. And I wonder if I wouldn’t be thinking the same
thing. She’s been living with it for so long.”

“And the way it happened. That doesn’t help.”

Kat’s grip tightened and I could hear her breathing get
heavier. I turned around to face her.

“You have to go, Lincoln.”

“You don’t want me to.”

“It’s not that, it’s…”

“I know. And I can’t apologize enough for what happened. But
it’s over, Kat.”

Kat nodded. “I still don’t know what to think, Lincoln,
about you, about her. But I do know I don’t want to see her wind up in jail for
life for killing someone, even if he did…” She couldn’t say it, and I didn’t
blame her. I would say it for her.

“Rape and murder her mother. And tried to burn our house
down with us inside of it.”

“Go, now.”

“Now?” I looked at her, trying to see what she was thinking.

“Or you can wait until morning, but that’s twelve more
hours.”

She was right. “You know computers,” I said. “Can you get
rid of the password protection on this and copy it to another drive or a DVD,
or whatever your parents have.”

“Okay,” she said, but it was more of a question. A question
of what was to happen next.

“If anything happens to me, make copies of it and send it to
the OPP commissioner, the Prime Minister, the press, anyone else you can think
of.”

Kat started to cry, her fears realized. They were fears I
had as well, but I had to push them away. I couldn’t allow myself to think of
being killed. The plane would drop me in the middle of a warzone, and if I
wasn’t focused, I wouldn’t even make it out of the trenches.

“Say goodbye to the kids,” she said. The way she said it
though, was as though it would be the last time.

“I’m coming back, Kat. I promise you.”

She nodded. “I know you probably don’t want me to, but I’ll
be praying for you.”

“Thank you,” I said to a look of shock from Kat. “I need all
the help I can get, from wherever I can get it.”

Kat smiled. The gap between us was closing, one stitch at a
time.

“Go get ready,” she said. “I’ll take care of the computer
stuff and call the airline.”

“Thanks,” I said, kissing her firmly.

* * *

An hour later I was ready to go, everything was packed,
copies had been made of Carter’s files and I’d said my goodbyes to the kids. It
was the hardest thing I had ever had to do, hiding my tears and terror from
them. They were preparing for bed and Kat had already told them she’d be taking
me to the airport. Agnes and Kris would be home if they needed anything.

“The earliest flight I could get is at four,” Kat said.
Seven hours to wait. But I’d be back in Toronto, I had to think, four plus ten
makes for two, minus six… I’d be landing around eight in the morning local
time. I just hoped I could sleep on the plane again.

“I should probably try to get a couple of hours of sleep
before we leave,” I said.

Kat looked at me, a devilish look in her eye as she scanned
me up and down.

“Or…”

I liked what she was thinking, but…

“Your parents are still up.”

“It wasn’t a problem last time, even if it was years ago.
I’ll be quiet, I promise.” She held her pinky up, ready to swear.

I got up and walked to the door, then closed and locked it.
My eyes were drawn to her as soon as I turned around. She hadn’t wasted any
time. I stared at her sitting on the bed before me and all thoughts of a lack
of privacy were gone. Even after two kids, she looked just as good as the day
we met—even if she didn’t agree.

I moved to the bed quickly, undressing as I walked. There
was time to be killed, and I couldn’t have been happier with the method.

THE FLIGHT WAS AS TO be expected, ten hours
of boredom with a transfer in between. I did manage to sleep for a few hours
over the ocean, and was happy to stay dream-free. I’d called Kara before
leaving Warsaw to let her know the change of plans and was happy to see her
waiting for me at the airport.

“Link,” she said, waving her arms in my
direction when I walked out of customs and past the secure areas.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you, too.”

I shot her a stern look, I was exhausted
and sarcasm was not something I was interested in.

“I took a Robert Q, figured I’d meet you
here. We have a shitload to go over.”

Robert Q, London’s primary air taxi
service.

“Alright. We need to catch a Park-n-Fly
Valet shuttle. Your car’s safe and sound… I hope. My gun’s in the trunk.”

Kara nodded and patted her right hip,
tapping on the firearm concealed by her leather jacket. “Haven’t left home
without it.”

“Good,” I said. “Don’t. Not until this is
all over.”

“You think it ever will be? I mean, you
said there’s a dozen involved, right? Around there? And those are the ones
Carter knew about. How many more do you think there might be?”

It was something I’d thought of, but I didn’t
want to focus too much on it right then. If we were lucky, we’d get one of them
to squeal on the rest; if we were really lucky they’d have a list of
‘employees’ somewhere in the warehouse.

“I don’t know. Let’s just get the ones we
know about. After that, the rest will turn up.” Once the kingdom comes crashing
down.

Kara nodded then pointed at an approaching
shuttle.

Twenty-five minutes later I’d paid the
parking bill and picked up the car. A quick check of the trunk told me
everything was still there, something Kara was happy to learn.

“We need somewhere hidden. I need to get my
gun on.”

“Right.” She drove out of the parking lot
and onto the main road. It wasn’t long before we came across a hotel with a
large and empty enough back lot. Kara parked as far from the other cars as
possible and popped the trunk. I took out the gun and undid my belt, then
threaded it through the leather holster.

Once I was back in the car I rocked my body
onto my left hip and drew the firearm just far enough to check the indicator to
see a round was chambered. I put the pistol back in and released the magazine.
Every round was accounted for.

“What about your armour?”

I looked at Kara, my eyes on her torso.

“Are you wearing yours?”

“You really can’t tell?”

I looked closer and noted the faint outline
of thee Kevlar vest underneath her sweater. “Just barely.” I stepped back out
of the car, took my vest out of the trunk and moved back into the vehicle.
There wasn’t a lot of room in the Prius to begin with, but trying to take off
my jacket and sweater, put the vest on over my t-shirt, then put everything
back on was a very difficult task. I flailed around for a couple of minutes
before the job was done and I was ready to be shot at.

“Where to?”

“There’s a gun shop in Mississauga. We’ll
head there first.”

Kara nodded, but there was an apprehensive
look she couldn’t shake. I wondered if she knew what she was getting herself
into. When Saunders attacked her, tried to strangle the life out of her, she
didn’t have a choice. She was thrown into a life or death situation. Now, at
any moment, she could walk into a potential firefight. They’d killed Carter,
they tried to kill me and my family—they wouldn’t hesitate to add us to the
list.

The drive didn’t take us very long and
despite everything we had to talk about, neither of us said a word. My mind was
stuck on what guns to buy, and whether or not I’d have to use them. I assumed
Kara’s thoughts weren’t too far from that.

“How can I help you two,” a man about my
age said from behind the counter. The gun shop was quite large and there were a
huge amount of firearms visible. The security systems in these places though
were better than bank vaults, and there was no way anyone was going to steal a
gun without a whole lot of trouble.

“Just looking for a couple of long guns,” I
said, my eyes wandering to the array of shotguns and rifles.

“For hunting or target?”

“A little of both,” I said. “Odds are just
target shooting though, my wife doesn’t like the idea of me hunting.”

The man scoffed and looked at Kara. “My
ex-wife felt the same way. That’s why she’s my ex.”

Kara laughed. I wasn’t expecting her to
find chauvinistic humour funny, but at the same time, it was something that
could have been on a bumper sticker.

“Know what you’re looking for?”

I walked closer to the shotguns and set my
sights on one. “Right there, the Benelli.”

“Super Black Eagle II? Nice gun. Colour?”

“Black. No point in camo, I’ll never be
allowed to take it out of the range.” He nodded. My poor, deprived hunter story
was working well.

Kara looked at the price tag, then looked
at me. “You’re looking at over two grand with tax on that. You really think
it’s necessary?”

“Sorry,” I said to the clerk. “Excuse us.”
He smiled, obviously assuming Kara and I were together, and that she was the wife
who wouldn’t let me hunt.

“Look, Link. Go to the Commissioner, get
this whole thing sanctioned. If he knows what’s going on, he’ll give you a
fucking SWAT team to command.”

I lowered my head. She was right, but what
if he couldn’t be trusted? What if it actually managed to go that high?

“Well, I’ve been wanting to buy a shotgun
and a rifle for a while.”

“Then get something cheaper. Do you really
need one of the most expensive ones on the shelf?”

No… but I want it.

It was in part due to wanting the best to
protect myself and my family, but it was also because I wanted the cool gun.

I walked back, my head hung low. “Let’s
look at the cheaper ones.”

He cast me a look that, if the situation
had actually been as he imagined it, and had I actually given a shit about that
sort of thing, would have made my testicles shrink and all of my testosterone
escape from my body. I was less of a man now, at least in his eyes.

“What about that Remington? The pump with
the sling?”

“It’s not as good as the Benelli.”

I could tell that, but thanks for filling
me in. As if the thirteen hundred dollar price difference wasn’t enough.

“It’s a good gun,” he said after realizing
I wasn’t acknowledging his last remark. “Definitely does the trick.”

“Alright.” I scanned the store, looking for
a rifle. “I’ll take the Savage with the scope. Do you have a .308?”

The calibre size was important. If a round
was too weak, it wouldn’t have the necessary stopping power. A stronger round
could cause a hydrostatic shock effect, causing remote injury to other parts of
the body due to a hydraulic effect in the tissues. With a solid hit to the
chest, even brain hemorrhaging could occur. It was this that made the .308 one
of the most popular jackets used for hunting. It wasn’t a pretty thing to think
about, but hitting with something smaller might just piss the target off. That
goes for animals and humans—both have shown the ability to keep fighting even
after being hit several times.

I couldn’t take that risk.

“Need your PAL.”

I handed him my licence, an rPAL—Restricted
Possession and Acquisition Licence. This allowed me to purchase both
non-restricted weapons—rifles and shotguns—and restricted weapons—handguns.
Getting the licence out required my badge to be visible, something he duly
noted.

“OPP, eh?”

“Yeah, out of London. Heard you guys were
one of the best shops in the area.”

I almost thought he was going to blush.

“You need ammo, too?”

“Yeah, a couple of boxes of each should be
enough for now. And I’ll need trigger locks as well.” I was also going to need
a gun locker if Kat was going to allow them in the house.

The house.

Visions of fire tearing through the home,
nearly obliterating it, almost brought me to my knees. I tried not to let the
clerk see me cry, but there were tears I couldn’t stop. I hadn’t had a chance
to really cry since this had all started—all I’d felt was anger. Of course, my
psyche had to choose the worst possible moment to crack.

“You alright, man?” he said when he came
back with the guns and ammunition.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I paused for a minute,
the cogs turning in my head. “My father’s really sick, he’s the one that got me
into shooting. It’s just hard picking these up right now. If he could, he’d be
right on the range next to me.”

He nodded. “That sucks. Sorry.”

I thanked him for his compassion and felt a
twinge of guilt for my lie—both for making him feel bad and moreso, for
bringing my father into it.

Kara and I were out the door a little while
later each carrying a case in the event we needed to access our loaded pistols.
Nothing happened though and we made it to the car, then back onto the highway
without any concern.

“You know, you’re kind of reminding me of
Denzel right now,” Kara said once we were up to cruising speed.

“What? Why? Because we all look alike?”

Kara missed my sarcasm and mock rage.
“Fuckshitno. That’s not what I meant.” She looked at me and saw the smirk on my
face. Another punch to the arm. “Asshole.”

I smiled and rubbed my left bicep. “I agree
though, kind of got the
Man on Fire
vibe going right now. They
tried to torch my house with Kat and the kids inside, they’re lucky I didn’t
buy a nuke.”

“So were you just talking me down from going after Warren so
you could kill him yourself?”

“The thought crossed my mind.” I’d tried to
stay composed, to hide my feelings from Kat and Kara. And from myself. Me being
willing to go on a homicidal rampage to take out anyone who harmed or could
harm my family wasn’t the best thing to be spreading around.

But I was the mama bear. They got between
me and my cubs and I wasn’t going to stop until every last one of them was
dealt with. Dead or Alive. I used to love seeing those posters in the Western
movies. Back in the days when justice had real bite.

“I’m not going to kill anyone, Kara. Not
unless I have no other choice. You know that.”

“I just wish I was as certain about myself.
Put him in front of me with a gun in my hand and it’ll take all the strength I
have not to squeeze off the kill shot.”

“I know. What he did was unforgivable, but
your mother wouldn’t have wanted you in jail because of it. And think about
what jail would be like for you, a cop. And a well-known one at that.”

It would be twenty-five years of protective
custody, solitary confinement for her own safety. With my luck, my cellmate
would be someone I’d put away for life.

“I know. I wouldn’t survive a month. Not
without a hell of a beating or worse. So I’ll just have to flee to Mexico or
something before they catch me.”

“Mexico and Canada have an extradition
treaty. Keep going south, hit Belize, take up scuba diving and live out a
peaceful life.”

Kara laughed. “The diving would be one way
to get you to come visit.”

I hadn’t been diving much in years, it was
hard to find the time now with the kids. I was still a member of the OPP dive
team but hadn’t been called out in sometime. There were enough certified
members that they’d leave the homicide guys alone in case something bigger
popped up. Last dive I was on recovering the body of a sport diver from a
century old shipwreck in Tobermory—under suspicious circumstances, of coure.
Made for an interesting case.

“As long as there’s no murder or bodies
involved.”

“Damn, was that your last dive?”

“Yep. You got to stay up on the boat nice
and warm while I froze my ass off under a hundred feet of water.”

“Someone had to guard the scene from
above.”

I laughed. If a boat came, she could stop
it from passing over our crime scene. If someone were to scuba in from a
distance, not much she could do unless she started shooting into the water or
dropping rocks on them.

“Right. Look, no one’s killing anyone, no
one’s fleeing the country. Deal?”

I reached my right arm across my body and
she took my hand in hers. A firm grip and a double shake was enough for me.

“So then, what’s the plan?”

“We’ll meet with Chen tonight. Maybe he’s
got someone he trusts, someone high enough up back in Ottawa to run this all
by.”

“It’s not like we need permission to do a
warrant on the place.”

“No, but we’d be doing it off-duty.
Wouldn’t exactly be looked upon too highly by the force or the courts.”