Deadline (21 page)

“So, are you inviting me just for a glass of wine, or are you looking for a roommate?” Jack asked, as he followed her to the leather couch.

Ellen laughed and looked over her shoulder at him. “I don’t know if you could afford it.”

“Not yet,” he said. “Give me time.”

Jack went out onto the balcony to admire the view of Parliament Hill and the snowy Ottawa River. The arctic wind blasted him the moment he pulled the sliding glass door open, and the drapes went flying. She stepped out with him, and they stood there, shivering and gazing at the glittering scene.

Ellen hugged herself with one arm and smiled up at Jack.

“Were you married before you moved to Ottawa?” he asked.

Her smile turned to a frown in the blink of an eye, and her eyes narrowed and glittered.

“You mean, is that how come I can afford a place like this?” she said. “I thought I was supposed to be the one asking the questions.”

Jack laughed. “It’s okay. I know the answer anyway. I know more about you than you might guess. Sometimes it seems like all we ever do in the gallery is gossip about you.”

The smile was back.

“Reaaaally?” she said. “What do they say?”

Jack smiled at her, and brushed her hair off her face.

“They say you’re dangerous,” he said. “A femme fatale.”

He leaned in to give her a kiss, but she stepped back and slapped him, very softly.

“Easy, tiger,” she said, and stepped away. She looked back over her shoulder.

“Time for you to keep your side of the bargain. I want some info.”

Jack followed her inside and poured himself them both a glass of wine. Ellen curled up in the armchair, tucked her knees under herself and cradled her wine glass in both hands. He sat on the couch with his legs crossed and swirled the wine.

“Shoot,” he said.

“Tell me how you got that story today,” she said, measuring him with her eyes. “The police wouldn’t tell me anything.”

“Well, like I said,” said Jack, “it fell into my lap. Ed and I are friends, and we were out drinking the night before he wound up in the canal. So the police have questioned me several times. You’d have to be stunned not to realize what they were getting at.”

“So you interviewed them while they were interviewing you?” said Ellen, squinting at him. “Smart. I’m impressed.”

“I don’t think they’re likely impressed. They had no idea the story was coming.”

“Stupid,” she said. “You should have tipped them off after you filed. Give them a chance to prepare themselves for the fallout.”

Jack shrugged. “You’re right.”

“So, how do you think Ed ended up in the canal?”

“I don’t know,” said Jack. “He was pretty hammered. I think it’s possible that he fell in. I can’t figure out who would want to kill him.”

Ellen studied his face.

“You know more than you’re saying,” she said. She got up and sat next to him on the couch, resting her hand on his thigh.

“You have a secret theory,” she said. “Don’t you, Scoop?”

Jack smiled. “I might. But if I tell you it won’t be much of a secret.”

He leaned in and kissed her, and she let him for a moment. His head swam. Then she put her hand on his chest and pushed him away.

“Tell me,” she said.

“No,” he said, and leaned in to kiss her again.

She pushed him away and jumped to her feet.

“So,” she said, smoothing her skirt, “do you want to see the rest of the place?”

Jack, deflated, got to his feet and followed her back to the kitchen.

“This is the kitchen,” she said, and did a little spin in the middle of it, then frowned. “I don’t use it much.”

He followed her down a hallway to her tidy little office, with a computer and a file cabinet and more bland art prints.

“This is my office,” she said, and gestured like a car show model. Then she led him to the last door.

“And this,” she said, as she pushed it open, “is my bedroom.”

She stepped inside and stood at the foot of her king-sized bed, waiting for him, saying nothing.

He stepped forward and took her in his arms. She returned his kiss this time, and pressed her body against his. He was so aroused that he felt that he might fall down.

He pulled back and stared at her. She smiled at him mischievously, turned and pushed him down on the bed, so that he lay on his back.

“Tell me, Scoop,” she said. “Do you know how to keep your mouth shut?”

“Oh my God,” he said. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

She climbed on top of him, her legs straddling his waist, and leaned down so that her hair fell in a curtain around his face. She kissed him very gently on the mouth. He put his arms around her and pulled her in closer.

“No,” she said, sitting up. She pushed his arms down and held them above his head. Again she leaned down and kissed him gently. Then she sat up and removed her blouse. She was wearing a tiny, purple, lace bra. Jack moaned with desire and reached for her breasts.

“No,” she said, sharply, and pushed his hands away.

She unbuttoned his shirt and leaned down again, her bra rubbing against his bare chest, and kissed him lightly.

Jack moaned and reached for her back. Again she sat up.

“Tsk tsk,” she said, waggling her finger at him, and ground herself on the front of his pants. “I like to be in control.”

Jack was overwhelmed by lust.

“You’re so hot,” he said. “I can’t stop myself from touching you.”

Ellen smiled at him. “We’ll just have to do something about that then.”

She pulled herself off him and opened a drawer in her bedside table. She pulled out a condom and a pair of handcuffs.

Jack moaned.

“I think this will be better,” she said, and she cuffed one of his wrists. She straddled him, ran the cuffs through a bed post, and snapped the other cuff to his other wrist, so that he was pinned on his back.

“Oh my God,” said Jack, and ground himself against her.

“Easy Tiger,” she said, and got to her feet. She stood staring at him and took off her skirt and her bra. She climbed back on top of him and kissed him again, rubbing herself against his bare chest. She teased him, pulling away when he rubbed against her too aggressively. She nibbled at his ear, lightly scratched his chest and kissed him again, then teased him with her breasts. Jack was a frantic lustful mess.

She slowly took off his shoes and pants, straddled one of his legs and toyed with the waistband of his underwear. Jack held his head up, staring at her, willing her to touch him.

“Now,” she said, tugging on his underwear. “Tell me about your secret theory.”

Jack groaned in frustration. “That’s not fair.”

She laughed and took her hand off of him.

“No,” she said. “That’s right.”

She put her hand back on him.

“Tell me,” she said.

“It’s his phone,” said Jack. “The cops think maybe somebody wanted his BlackBerry. It wasn’t on him when they pulled him from the canal.”

Ellen leaned down on her hand, then pulled it away.

“What could be on it?”

Jack twisted his hips in frustration.

“I have no idea. Honestly. Something to do with his work? He was a policy analyst. Something to do with Donahoe’s leadership run? I don’t know.”

“Did he have it with you when you were drinking together?”

“Yes,” said Jack. “But we were fucking hammered. I have no idea what happened to it. He might have lost it in Pigale.”

“Hm,” said Ellen. She grabbed the waistband of his underwear and pulled it down to his knees. She touched him very lightly.

“Where is it?” she said.

Jack almost bellowed with lust.

“I have NO IDEA,” he said. “Jesus. Stop.”

Ellen laughed and stood and removed her thong, and climbed back on top of him.

“I believe you,” she said, and reached for the condom.

She put the condom on him and settled down on him with a gasp of pleasure. But Jack was overexcited and as she started to move against him he lost control.

“No,” he said. “No. Stop.”

She did, but it was too late.

She ground against him as he spent himself, and then flopped on to her back with a sigh of disappointment.

Jack’s chest heaved.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re too much for me.”

“Story of my life.”

“Oh my God,” said Jack. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll try to redeem myself.”

Ellen jumped to her feet.

“I’m going to have a shower,” she said, and headed for the bathroom.

“Hey,” said Jack, still cuffed to the bed. “Let me loose.”

She turned and gave him a good look and started laughing.

“You look so pathetic right now,” she said, nodding at the condom. “Why don’t you take that thing off?”

“Come on,” said Jack. “Let me loose.”

“Maybe I should leave you cuffed up until you’re ready to go again,” she said, and kissed him on the mouth, running her hand through his hair.

He kissed her back. “Might not take that long.”

“Look,” she said, and showed him the switch on the cuffs that popped the lock, and headed into the bathroom.

“Try to stay out of trouble,” she said.

Jack picked up his BlackBerry while he waited for her to shower.

There was a new message from Sophie, sent two hours ago.

- Jack! Ed is alive in there!!! I’m soooo happy!


He typed back:

- Wow! Is he talking?


She responded immediately:

- No. Not talking. But his mom was right. He can understand what we say to him. You can tell by his eyes. I was with him tonight alone, and talked to him for a while, and he started crying.


- Wow. Wow. That’s intense.


- So intense.


- You sure he understood you?


- Absolutely. I chatted with him after he started crying and he blinked in response, and his eyes were following me.


- Wow. Amazing.


- It’s a breakthrough.


- Is he still communicating now?


- No. :-( After a while he seemed to get tired and stopped responding. The doctor said it can happen like that, but we have to keep trying.


- Wow.


- :-)


- U still there?


- Yes. Going home soon. He’s sleeping.


Jack heard the shower stop.

- k ttyl


- bye


- so happy about Ed!!!


- :-)


Ellen came out of the bathroom in a short silk robe, with a towel around her hair. She was still wearing her makeup.

Jack tossed his BlackBerry on the bedside table.

“Just got some amazing news,” he said.

“Tell me,” said Ellen.

“Ed’s showing signs of life,” he said.

“Wow,” said Ellen, and she sat on the bed. She looked at his BlackBerry on the table. “Who texted you?”

“Sophie. His girlfriend. Works for Greg Mowat.”

“Pretty but kind of mousy? Brown hair?”

“I don’t think she’s mousy,” said Jack. “She’s the one who fainted in your scrum the other day.”

Ellen pointed her chin at Jack’s phone, which sat face up on the table. The automatic lock, which kicks in after five minutes, hadn’t gone on yet, and there was no password prompt.

“She said she was talking to him at the hospital,” said Jack. “She thought he was in a coma, but he started to cry, and then she was chatting with him and he was responding by blinking.”

“That’s amazing. Did he, uh, say anything?”

“No. Sophie said he seemed to get tired, but it’s a start.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah,” said Jack, grinning. “I can’t believe it. You can’t believe how depressing it is to see him lying there staring at the ceiling. His face is so blank.”

“I bet,” said Ellen, turning to the mirror over her dresser and removing the towel from her hair. “You gonna hit the shower?” she said.

“Yeah,” said Jack. “I guess I’d better.”

He noticed her glancing at his phone in the mirror.

He went over and put his arms around her and tried to slide his hand up the back of her robe.

“But maybe I should wait until I’m sure we’re through.”

“Gross,” she said, turning around and shoved him toward the bathroom. “Nothing for you until you’re clean.” She slammed the door shut.

Jack turned on the water in the marble tub and stepped into the hot stream. When he reached for the soap, he noticed with a start that his wrists looked like Ed’s. There were blue handcuff bruises coming through.

“Wow,” he said.

He got out of the tub and opened the door to the bedroom.

“Check it out,” he said. “You bruised me.”

Ellen was sitting on the bed reading a BlackBerry. She looked up, startled, and tossed the phone behind her on the bed.

“Oh, you poor thing. Think you’ll live?” she said and stuck out her tongue at him. “Now get cleaned up. Maybe we can play doctor when you’re done.”

Jack looked down at his wrists and then back at her. “They look like Ed’s wrists.”

“Come on,” she said. “Hit the shower, Tiger.”

He looked over at the bedside table. “Where’s my BlackBerry?”

Ellen looked up at him blankly.

He walked around her, trying to see behind her.

“Come on,” she said. “Get cleaned up. I want you clean so we can have more fun.”

She was half sitting on his phone.

“Were you reading my BlackBerry?” he said, and reached for it.

For a second she looked vicious, and he shied away, afraid she was going to scratch at him. Then she rolled her eyes and got up.

“Oh,” she said, nonchalantly. “I thought it was mine. I just picked it up.”

He picked it up and looked at the blank screen, then smiled at her.

“You little snoop,” he said. “You were trying to read my BlackBerry. What are you looking for? My sources on the Sawatski story?”