Samurai Code (4 page)

The Shaman looked gravely at Da Khlot and said, “This mission is of the utmost importance.”

Da Khlot remained stoic.
Are not all of The Shaman’s missions important?

“Your duty as an observer on this mission does not mean that I have lost faith in you. Quite the opposite. Loyalty is what it is all about. Do you understand?”

Da Khlot nodded, although he didn’t really understand.

“I expect that tomorrow night you will need to wear your new suit,” said The Shaman. “Make sure you do not lose a button on the suit jacket,” he added, with a smile.

Da Khlot did not question why his new suit was equipped with a hidden video camera and a lens that looked like a button.
I am but a soldier. I obey. Tomorrow night someone will die. It does not matter why.

***

Natasha awoke at the sound of Jack’s key unlocking the front door to their apartment. She leaned over and turned on a bedside light, before quickly brushing her shoulder-length black hair with her fingertips.

“You’re awake,” said Jack, sounding pleased, as he entered the room.

“Couldn’t sleep,” replied Natasha. “Got turned on reading a sexy article and decided to wait up.”

Jack glanced at a copy of
Canadian Medical Association Journal
on the bedside table. “Pretty hot stuff! Are you going to give me another night class in human anatomy?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“Think you can wait until I shower?”

“You’ll need another one when I’m done with — hey! That’s blood on your shirt.”

“Not mine. It’s from that policewoman with the broken nose I told you about. She’s okay, other than looking like a racoon. Now you know why I need to shower.”

“Everything go okay?”

“Yes, it went fine. Some bad guys went back to jail tonight.”

“Good. Go shower. I’ll stay awake, but don’t take too long.”

“Do you mean you’ll stay awake while I’m in the shower … or after?”

Natasha replied by throwing a pillow at him.

Jack chuckled, caught the pillow, and threw it back. Then something else caught his attention. He picked up an imitation red rose off of their dresser. Its stem and leaves were green plastic and the red flower was made from silk. The flower was extremely faded and it was obvious it had spent many years in the sun. “What’s this?” he asked, placing one hand over his heart as if overwhelmed by her thoughtfulness.

“That’s not for you! A man … it was given to me.”

“Is that a fact?” Jack raised an eyebrow and added, “Well, although it is a symbol of love, I think I should warn you, that it is imitation only. Whoever the rogue is, I suspect his feelings for you are likely about as genuine as this rose.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Natasha. “I believe his feelings are sincere.”

“Really?” replied Jack, sounding intrigued as he examined it more closely. “By a small piece of broken eggshell on the underside of one leaf, I would guess that you had breakfast with this new lover of yours?”

Natasha laughed and said, “Okay, I confess. It was under my windshield wiper when I left work.”

“A secret admirer,” said Jack. “This is getting more interesting all the time.”

“Not so secret,” replied Natasha. “A grateful patient who is too shy to deliver it personally. His name is Melvin.”

“Should I be jealous?” asked Jack, pursing his lips in an attempt not to smile.

“Depends on your performance after your shower,” replied Natasha, sounding mischievous. “And how quick you come to bed. Not to mention, as I recall, it is you who tends to fall asleep all too soon sometimes.”

“I’ll be fast,” said Jack, placing the rose back on the dresser. “Laura and I want to be at work by eight,” he added, while setting the alarm clock.

“By eight! That’s only five hours away. Can’t you sleep in a little longer? I thought you were working afternoons on Monday. I don’t go in until after lunch.”

“Sorry, hon,” replied Jack, letting out a sigh. “Our new boss starts tomorrow. Staff Sergeant Rosemary Wood. I should be there to greet her on her first day. I’ll take Tuesday morning off. I promise. I’ll even bring you breakfast in bed.”

“You better.”

Jack undressed and then disappeared into their ensuite.

“What is she like?” Natasha called after him. “Do you think she’s going to be okay?”

“Who?” asked Jack, his mind reflecting back to earlier in the evening and the look of terror on the face of a petrified young woman in the back seat of a car.

“Your new boss. Didn’t you check her out? You said she was coming in from Toronto.”

“Oh, her. I never heard her name until last week. Don’t know much about her, other than she worked on terrorism.”

Natasha heard the sound of the shower come on, but Jack yelled back, “I did hear she got in trouble over an illegal search of some office.”

Natasha caught the tone of Jack’s voice.
He sounded happy. Why would that please him?
She paused a moment and understood.
Birds of a feather …

She rolled over and caught a glimpse of the full moon shining in around the edges of the drapes. She flicked off the bedside light and got up and opened them. It was a clear night and the moon shone brightly into the room.
Definitely more romantic.

The moonlight cast an elongated replica shadow of the rose on her dresser. Lying in the shadow was a silver necklace, the moon illuminating its singular large pearl.

Jack had received the necklace as a gift from a man he once helped.
Somehow, the two gifts seem to go together.
She looked out at the night sky.
The world can be a wonderful place. People can be so kind. So much life and beauty.

But within the next twenty-four hours, Natasha’s mood would change — when the man she cared for was beaten, kidnapped, and murdered.

6

It was quarter to eight in the morning when Jack and Laura arrived at work, but not as early as their new boss, who had arrived an hour earlier. Staff Sergeant Rosemary Wood beckoned them in to her office and introductions were made.

Jack guessed she was about six or seven years older than he was, putting her in her early to mid forties. She was tall, and judging by her build, he suspected she ran marathons. Her hair was blonde and cropped. He sensed she was studying him with some curiosity. It should have made him nervous, but the hint of bemusement on her face told him not to worry.

“Do you prefer we call you Staff?” asked Laura.

“I prefer Rose,” she replied. “Please, both of you take a seat. Make yourselves comfortable.”

“Named after Rosewood?” asked Jack, as he sat down. “That small town in Florida where the Ku Klux Klan massacred people back in the 1920s.”

Rose smiled and said, “I prefer to think my name is symbolic with rosewood, the type used in musical instruments.”

Jack smiled.
Good, she has a sense of humour.

“Checking to see if I have a sense of humour, are you?” asked Rose.

Jack felt slightly taken back.
Okay, lady. One point for you.
He gave a quick grin in response.

“Do you two always come in so early?” asked Rose. “I’m aware that you both worked an undercover operation over the weekend and worked late last night. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“We had planned on working an afternoon shift, but thought we should honour you with our presence for your first day here,” replied Jack.

“I see,” she replied. “A couple of brown-nosers.”

Jack chuckled and replied, “If you think that about us, I suggest you ask our previous boss. He might disagree.”

Rose smiled and said, “That would be Staff Quaile. Yes, I heard about your relationship with him.”

“You’ve done your homework,” said Jack.

“It wasn’t hard. Rather curious, really.”

“Oh?” asked Jack.

“Are either of you aware of where I was supposed to be transferred to?”

“I only know that you came from Toronto and worked on terrorism,” said Laura.

“Yes. The Integrated National Security Enforcement Team, or INSET as it is called. Up until a week ago I thought I was being transferred to Commercial Crime.”

“I heard that there had been a last-minute change,” replied Jack. “I didn’t hear why.”

“I thought I was being transferred under a cloud. Back east, I was criticized by the brass for gathering intelligence at a commercial location. They said it did not meet the judicial criteria in regard to a search.”

“Searching a place after office hours without a warrant?” suggested Jack.

Rose stared at him for a moment before replying, “It seems you’ve done your homework, as well.”

Jack shrugged in response.

“For the record,” continued Rose, “my watch was wrong. I didn’t realize the office was closed for the night as opposed to an employee having stepped out for a moment. It didn’t help that someone left the door unlocked. It could have been by the same janitor who was sleeping in an office across the hall and happened upon me. It complicated matters further when he later decided to call headquarters to verify my credentials.”

“I see,” replied Jack.

“I bet you do,” she said, with a face that made Jack think she played poker. He mulled over her choice of words to describe the unlocked door.
It could have been by the same janitor … meaning in theory, it could have been … but sure as hell wasn’t.

“Did they say why they changed the transfer?” asked Laura.

“That is the curious part. Last week, when I got a call from Staffing, they sounded a little miffed.”

“Miffed?” asked Laura.

“Staffing said Assistant Commissioner Isaac intervened and I was being re-routed to Intelligence. Rather unusual to have someone interfere with Staffing like that. Do you know anything about it?”

“No,” replied Jack.

“Last Friday afternoon I was called in for a short meeting with Isaac.”

“Oh, really?” said Jack, feeling like the cup of dark-roasted black Starbucks coffee he had on the way to work wasn’t such a good idea for an empty stomach.

“Yes, really,” replied Rose, staring back at him.

“Guess he wouldn’t have called you in on a day off just to welcome you to the section,” said Jack, fishing for more information.

“He welcomed me, but spent most of his time discussing you,” she replied. “I had the distinct impression he feels — well, let’s just say he feels you need a little more experience at testifying in court.”

Jack was confused. “We’re on an Intelligence Section. We’re supposed to avoid court when we can, gather intelligence, and turn the results over to the appropriate section to investigate further. They’re the ones who normally make arrests, seize evidence, and go to court.”

“I’m aware of that,” replied Rose. “However, Isaac is concerned that it is the coroner who most often receives the results of your work.”

Laura looked down ostensibly to examine a hangnail.

“Oh, that,” replied Jack, sounding casual. “There have been a couple of individuals I was working on who fell victim to the people they were associating with. Isaac once suspected I had something to do with the death of a man in Mexico. The man was someone I was working on. I happened to be in Mexico on my honeymoon at the time. Isaac looked into it and discovered that the death was the result of an accidental drowning. He apologized to me personally once he discovered his error. I’m surprised he would mention it. It was simply a coincidence.”

“So he told me,” replied Rose. “How interesting you should use the word ‘coincidence.’ He said you could be nicknamed ‘The Coincidental Corporal.’”

“What are —” Jack started to say defiantly.

“Hold on,” interjected Rose, putting her hand up for him to stop. “Laura, this is obviously making you uncomfortable. Would you mind leaving us for a moment? I’ll want to talk with you later.”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Jack, as soon as Laura left the office. “What is Isaac insinuating?”

“Oh, I don’t think he was insinuating,” said Rose, pursing her lips, eyes locked onto his.

Jack returned her gaze and decided not to respond to that comment.

“He revealed only the facts as he knew them,” she continued. “No evidence of wrongdoing on your part was noted, although he tended to overuse the phrase ‘by coincidence’ when describing you. In fact, he made it clear that there has never been any … what’s the word he used? … oh, yes … credible evidence or confirmation of any wrongdoing on your part.”

Jack sighed and took a moment to mull over what he had been told before asking, “What is he suggesting? Where do I stand with him?”

“I did get the distinct impression that it would make him happy if you brought one in alive.”

Jack nodded silently.

“You should also know I wasn’t asked to rat on you.”

“Thanks. Nice to know.”

“But he did make it clear that he goes by the book and would take immediate action if any evidence of wrongdoing came to light.”

“Fair enough. I would expect nothing less.”

Rose snickered.

“What’s so amusing?” asked Jack.

“That is exactly what Isaac said you would say.”

Ouch!
“So, where do I stand with you on all this?”

Rose smiled and said, “By
coincidence
, I had said exactly the same thing as you — that I would expect nothing less.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” replied Jack.

Rose didn’t immediately reply, but, after straightening a pile of reports on her desk, she looked at Jack and said, “It is evident to me that the work you do is exceptionally dangerous. Considering what I heard, how is it you’ve never taken stress leave after all you have been through?”

“As per policy, I meet with the department psychologists,” replied Jack, defensively. “They continue to give me a clean bill of health.”

“So I’ve been told. You’ve never even been recommended for a brief sabbatical from undercover duties. Very unusual, considering how long you’ve been doing it.”

Jack shrugged and said, “Apparently they think I’m suited for it.”

“I know the training and selection criteria for undercover operators is good,” continued Rose. “I volunteered for it myself once, but failed to make the cut. I’ve done some minor stuff. Portraying a girlfriend the odd time, but never any real undercover operations.”

“The training for UC is pretty good,” said Jack.

“Still, it’s not that good,” replied Rose. She eyed Jack curiously and said, “Taking that into account, coupled with the continuous lack of any concern by the Force psychologists, I understand your training, or should I say, your self-preservation skills, started as a child.”

“It was my understanding,” replied Jack irritably, “that my conversations with the psychologists were to be kept strictly confidential.”

“No, you’re correct. I didn’t talk to them,” said Rose, as she sighed and her eyes softened. “I was simply speculating. As your boss, I am concerned about your emotional health as well as your safety. If you need a break, let me know. It doesn’t have to be official. It will stay between the two of us.”

“I feel fine, thank you.” Jack then added, “You’re exceptionally intuitive. I’m surprised you didn’t make it as an operator.”

“I lack the ability for fast imaginative responses in unexpected situations,” replied Rose. “I have a tendency to overanalyze. As far as being intuitive goes, thank you.” She watched Jack carefully and added, “It may help that I have my masters in psychology.”

She expected to see the usual signs of discomfort that people initially felt when they learned of her psychological training.
Fear of being analyzed or having someone guess their deepest secrets.
It didn’t appear to faze Jack.

“Good for you,” he replied. “Explains why you clued in about my self-preservation skills developing as a child. Your terminology was the same as the Force psychologists. It is true. When I was a child, report-card time in our house or anything to do with school for that matter, was a nightmare. As a preschooler, I would watch my father flip through a school textbook and ask my older brother questions. If he didn’t know the answer, my father would backhand him out of his chair, make him set the chair up again, sit in it, and then ask him the same question again. Not exactly the best teaching method. Explains why my brother left home when he was fourteen.”

“And then it was your turn to sit in the chair?”

“What I did, from about the time I was ten or eleven, was pretend to be mildly mentally challenged. My father believed it and I avoided the punishment that was handed down to my brother.” Jack sighed and said, “So, I guess you’re right. My self-preservation skills did start as a child. Not just learning to lie, but to watch someone, to know when they are about to strike with little warning, as my father would do. Childhood lessons serve me well in what I do now.”

Rose gave a grim smile and nodded.

“So why did you become a police officer instead of a psychologist?” asked Jack.

“Thought it would be a more hands-on approach to helping people. Why did you become a police officer?”

“I hate bullies.”

“Bullies like your dad?”

Jack nodded. “He was physically and emotionally abusive. Also a pedophile. As he grew older, he also took delight in making people angry. Guess it was another way to make himself feel powerful.”

“Wow … you seem pretty open about it.”

“It is my belief that if people would stop keeping stuff like that secret, it would save a lot of children from a lifetime of horrible problems. I didn’t find out about his pedophilia until he was practically on his deathbed. Not enough time to put him through a trial.”

Rose nodded.

Jack then made pretence of looking around the walls of her office.

“What are you looking for?” asked Rose.

“A picture of Sigmund.”

Rose smiled and said, “Personally I think Freud is overrated.”

“Carl Jung?”

“Don’t care for him, either. My doctrine is more in line with a man called Adler.”

“Good old Alfred,” replied Jack. “I agree. Jung is too spiritual for my liking.”

“You also have an education in psychology,” said Rose, meaning it more as a question than a statement.

“No. Just light reading. Clinical works of Alfred Adler.”

“You call that light reading?”

Jack shrugged and said, “It’s been awhile. I only skimmed through it.”

“The Force shrinks never had a chance with you, did they?” she said, accusingly.

Jack grimaced and said, “Their intentions are good. I believe in the program, but I warned them that many of the good operators are still fooling them.”

“You included?” she asked.

“No. Like I said, I believe in the program. I am as honest as you would be.”