The Arx (32 page)

They know about you, they’ll know about everyone associated with you.

There were two people close enough to him to fit into that category: Rebecca and his sister Janet. He hadn’t wanted to phone either in case their phones were bugged, and email was even less secure.

He’d bought a baseball cap and cheap sunglasses at a general store on Galiano. Now, seated in the darkest corner of a coffee shop at the edge of town, he called the receptionist at Janet’s work and asked to speak to her. When Janet answered the phone and he knew she was alright, he hung up. For now, that was all he could do. Speaking to her would put her in far greater danger.

He’d taken steps bordering on paranoia to shield Rebecca from his actions, but he realized that in reality he hadn’t been careful enough. In fact, it was probably not possible to be careful enough. His plan now was to tell her everything, and convince her to go into hiding.

The knowledge of having put her in danger tore at his heart. If his own life was on the line, then Rebecca’s would be also. The Arx probably already knew about their relationship and would find the traces of their investigation.

At least Frank had an idea what he was up against. Rebecca was almost completely in the dark, wandering like a child in the wilderness because he’d withheld the information that might save her life. He shuddered recalling her trip to the home of the poor researcher who had died. That act alone would guarantee her death if the Arx found out, as he was now certain they would. For all he knew they’d been spying on her all along.

The image popped into his head of Rebecca in front of the Boathouse restaurant in Kits. He remembered the woman she’d been hugging at the entrance. His gut clenched as he realized where he’d seen the face in the grainy photo at Carson’s place…

“Shit!” he said, jumping up from his chair.

His hands shook as he grabbed Carson’s suitcase, pulled his cap’s brim low and took off for Rebecca’s office.

He didn’t dare enter through the front doors. Even if the Arx hadn’t yet connected Rebecca with his investigation, they would know that he visited her occasionally, and would be watching.

Luckily, she’d shown him a back way in. He entered the building next door through a side entrance near the alley. An underground hallway joined that building with hers.

An ID card controlled access to the door linking the two buildings, but security was slack. He waited out of sight near the door. When a woman with a card headed for it, he followed closely behind her.

She opened the door and he rushed forward and held it for her. For a moment she eyed him suspiciously. He quickly flashed the back of one of his credit cards, which was similar to the ID card. She smiled and let him through.

He saw no one as he moved quickly down the hall and into Rebecca’s office.

“Frank!” Judy said as she hung up the phone. “Haven’t seen you around for a while. No offense, but you don’t look so good.”

“I had a fight with a bottle and the bottle won,” he said. “Where’s Rebecca?”

“You just missed her. She went out for a couple of hours. She left about twenty minutes ago.”

“Any idea where she went?”

“I’m not sure where they went,” Judy said, absently shuffling some papers on her desk.

“They?” Frank’s gut flexed and the hair at the back of his neck stood on end.

Judy flushed, as she remembered something. “Oh, crap,” she said, “she told me – sorry Frank, I’m not supposed to say…”

“Who’s she meeting?” he asked, dreading the answer.

Judy looked away.

Frank clenched his fists. “Where did they go?”

She looked at him. “She doesn’t tell me, they just go.”

Frank leaned across her desk. “What if there’s an emergency or something?”

“No, honestly…”

“Come on, Judy,” he shouted. “Her life could be in danger!”

Judy’s upper lip quivered, “I don’t know… I swear, she didn’t tell me.”

He rushed out the way he’d come, jumped in his car, and headed for the Kitsilano. His mind twisted in knots as he drove. Rebecca with Carla De Leon? Why? Was it possible she’d been playing him for a sucker all this time? That she’d been in league with the Arx from the beginning? That she herself was…

It was like a deep black well opened up underneath him. “It can’t be,” he said out loud.

No way
, he finally decided. If she was one of them, or had been working for them, he would have been taken out a long time ago. There was no advantage in keeping him alive, and much in arranging for him to have an ‘accident’.

If Rebecca wasn’t working for them there was only one other explanation: she had unwittingly gotten involved without understanding what she’d done. His mind reeled as he thought about the level of danger she’d fallen into.

He pulled up at the Boathouse restaurant, frantically combed the parking lot, and exhaled deeply when he spotted her car. He fished the gun from the bag around his neck, stuffed it in his belt, and took the stairs up to the restaurant two at a time. Rebecca sat alone at a table near the window. He headed directly for her.

She jumped as she recognized him.

“Frank, what are you doing here?” she said as he reached her.

“Are you alone?” he said, still out of breath.

Her face turned angry. “I meant what I said before, Frank. Gloria and Ralphie are dead, and so is our investigation.”

“Who are you waiting for?” he said.

She looked at her hands.

“Carla De Leon,” he said.

She turned a bright shade of red as she looked up. “She’s really not a bad person, Frank…”

“There’s no time. There’s stuff I haven’t told you.”

He quickly tried to explain the highlights of his investigation: the fight with the first attacker, his investigation into Lawrence Retigo, Ricky Augustus. Rebecca’s hands twisted the cloth napkin in front of her as she listened. She didn’t believe him.

“Frank… I don’t want any trouble,” she said when he’d finished. “Please, just go.”

“Look,” he said. “You can’t meet with Carla. Call her, make up an excuse. Come with me for one hour and I’ll explain everything. If you still think I’m nuts and you’re worried about what I’ll do we can go someplace where there’s lots of people.”

She glanced out the window and cringed.

“What?” Frank said.

He peered down at the sidewalk below. A handsome middle-aged woman strode purposefully toward the front doors. Inexplicably she paused and looked up. She seemed to be staring right at him. The afternoon sun glinted off her sunglasses. Frank’s heart skipped a beat.

He turned back to Rebecca.

“Let’s go,” he said.

She looked frightened. “Please leave, Frank,” she said. “I appreciate your concern but I’m fine.”

“It’s not a request,” he said.

He reached down, grabbed her left elbow, and tried to lift her to her feet.

“Let go of me!” she yelled.

The entire restaurant went silent. Everyone was staring at them.

Several waiters headed in their direction and a couple of men rose from their tables. Frank hauled Rebecca up and started to drag her toward the back door. A bartender at the back picked up the phone.

With his free hand, Frank pulled Carson’s gun from under his jacket and waved it around the room, finally pointing it at the guy with the phone. Screams and gasps erupted all around them.

“Put it down!” he yelled at the bartender. The man did as he was told.

“Everybody stay where you are!” Frank yelled. “Don’t move and you won’t get hurt.”

The waiters froze and the men that had stood sat back down. “Let me go, Frank,” Rebecca sobbed, tears running down her cheeks. “This isn’t the way to deal with your problems.”

They reached the back door and he dragged her down the stairs to the parking lot. She struggled as he pushed her inside through the driver’s door of his rental and jumped in beside her. He started the car and took off, tearing out of the lot with his tires squealing.

He glanced in the rear-view mirror. A crowd was gathered at the top of the stairs, watching. At the front was the figure of Carla De Leon. She was putting her cell phone to her ear.

“We’re gonna have to ditch this car,” he said. He shoved the gun in his belt.

“What the hell are you doing Frank?” Rebecca screamed.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said. “I know it seems crazy but everything I’ve been telling you is true, and I can prove it.”

Her eyes drifted to the gun.

“Remember the guy that was supposed to be dead? Carson?” he said. “I met him. He’s alive – or at least he was…”

Frank reached into his jacket pocket. Rebecca jumped and pulled away. He pulled out one of Carson’s flash drives.

“It’s all here,” he said, holding it up. “Just let me show you. Give me half an hour. If you still don’t believe me I promise I’ll let you go.”

She stared at him.

“The cops are going to be after us,” he said. “They’ll have the license plate number.”

She looked at the flash drive. Finally her shoulders dropped and she seemed to relax. “Pull the car into the alley there,” she said, pointing to their right. “We can go somewhere on foot.”

Frank smiled. He parked the car in a dark space behind a wall where it would take time to find. He grabbed Carson’s suitcase from the trunk and they got out and walked. Frank kept an eye on Rebecca, but she didn’t make any attempt to get away. Police sirens approached in the distance.

They repeated his earlier trick, jumping on the first bus that came along, just to get out of the area. The bus was almost empty. They took a seat at the back, away from any other passengers, and Frank started from the beginning. Rebecca’s eyes widened as he told her about Carson and his analysis of Carla De Leon. He could see that she thought what he was saying had a ring of truth.

He hauled Carson’s notebook from the suitcase, plugged in and accessed the flashdrive, and handed the computer to Rebecca.

“Take a look at it,” he said. “That’s all I ask.”

Her fists clenched in front of her as she read. She seemed to collapse from the inside, and sat with her head in her hands. Frank’s throat tightened; her image reminded him of Gloria when Ralphie had first disappeared.

“So we’re both as good as dead,” she said, shaking. The enormity of their situation had finally struck her.

“Not necessarily,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and trying to sound more confident than he felt.

“Where can we go?” she asked. “They’ll be all over the city.”

“Then maybe we better leave the city,” he said.

Sanctuary

Rebecca took a long look at Frank as they trudged along the path to the door of Carson’s cabin. They’d jumped on another bus, transferred to one that ran out to the ferry terminal, and caught the ferry to Galiano. Frank rented a pair of mopeds, and they caught a charter boat to Parker Island.

On the bus, he’d told her about Stocker’s death, about Carson, all that the researcher had done, supposedly in the name of humanity, and how Carson had finally ended his life. Frank plodded along the path to Carson’s shack like he was on his way to a funeral. He obviously didn’t want to be there, but it was the only place he could think of where they might be safe, at least for a while.

She sensed the pressure building inside him. His fists were clenched as he walked. He was unsteady on his feet and stared at the ground.

“Where are they buried?” she asked, as they approached.

Frank inclined his head toward the back. She imagined the old man’s ghost, or the ghost of the murdered child, Jimmy, hovering over them like death.

“How long do you think we’ll have to stay here?” she asked.

“
You’ll
be here for at least a couple of days,” Frank answered. “I gotta go back – not tonight, tomorrow.”

“You’re kidding,” she said, her eyes wide. “You’re already connected to a murder. Now you can add weapons and kidnapping. Every cop in the city will be after you. Not to mention that you’re being hunted by a gang of psychopathic killers. Have you got a death wish?”

“It’s our only hope. I gotta convince the cops that the Arx are for real, and that what I’ve been saying is the truth. That’s the only way, according to Ricky Augustus. That’s not going to be easy. But this time I’ll have the documentation to back the story up.”

Frank unlocked the door and they walked in. His hands shook as he fished in his shirt pocket for his cigarettes. His knees gave way. He staggered over and flopped into a nearby chair.

“What’s wrong?” Rebecca asked.

“Nothing,” he answered. “I’m fine; just tired.”

“Frank,” she said, nodding at his shaking hands. “You’re on the edge. I’m surprised you’ve held it together this long. I’m worried that you’re heading for another breakdown.”

He tilted back his head and stared at the ceiling. “Come on, Rebecca, not now…”

He leaned forward again and tried to pull a cigarette from the pack. His hands shook so badly he dropped the pack on the floor.