A Bodyguard to Remember (8 page)

“Where are we staying in Ottawa?” Hope asked, forestalling Boone’s complaints.

Merrick touched his finger to his lips. “Shh. It’s a state secret.”

The silly part was it might be true.

*    *    *

You would have thought I’d feel safe now that we were out of town and I knew I had an armed guard in the room. No. Again, I woke up in the middle of the night sure I’d heard someone trying to break in.

Nothing.

I carefully slipped out of bed. There were no cots to be had, so Boone was sharing a bed with Merrick and Hope was in with me. Hope turned over, pulling the covers with her, but otherwise was undisturbed. When I returned from checking the locks and using the washroom, Merrick was up on one elbow, waiting for me.

“Nightmare?”

I nodded.

“Tea?”

I thought about it. It was almost three in the morning. I should try to get back to sleep. Try was the operative word. First, I’d have to wrestle the covers back from Hope without waking her. Then I’d have to convince myself it was safe to close my eyes.

“I’m going to make tea,” Merrick whispered, pushing himself upright and swinging his legs to the floor. He put the bedside lamp on low and passed me my book. “Read. The distraction will help.”

A better distraction was Merrick in Mickey Mouse pyjamas. I watched him make tea, admiring his broad shoulders—hiding behind my book when he turned around. It was totally inappropriate of me to act on my thoughts, but I figured I could be forgiven for imagining the sensation of having my hands sandwiched between the hard muscles of his back and the soft flannel of his pyjama top.

“You must be feeling better,” he commented, as he delivered my tea. “Your colour is returning. So tell me, do you prefer me in straight plaid or plaid with Mickey Mouse?”

Merrick noticed too much for my peace of mind. “It’s the flannel,” I said, scowling at him. “It’s disarming. If you remember, it calmed me when I lost it at the hospital.”

He sat down on the edge of my bed. I scooted over a couple of inches to give him space.

“I remember. The effect of flannel on you is so profound I am tempted to start wearing it by day.”

I grinned. “With or without the dark suit?”

“Everybody knows that dark suits are required by universal plainclothes police policy unless the officer is undercover. It’s worse in the United States. There the suits have to be black, particularly if you work for the federal government. You might have noticed my suits are navy or charcoal grey. That’s a Canadian touch.”

He did silly with a perfectly straight face. I could do that too.

“If you want to wear flannel, maybe you should go undercover as a lumberjack. That’s okay.”

He squeezed my knee and got up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

*    *    *

Twelve hours later, we parked in an underground garage somewhere in downtown Ottawa. We weren’t far from Parliament Hill because Merrick did a drive-by en route and it wasn’t long after that he pulled into the garage. Otherwise, I didn’t have a clue where we were.

While we stretched, Merrick fetched a cart and we loaded it up with our luggage, boxes, and fish. Then we followed him into the building. I noticed there were cameras everywhere.

“Tomorrow,” Merrick announced, “we’ll get your key card and the security desk will take digital photos so they can identify you.”

“What is this place?” asked Boone in an awed tone.

Merrick touched his finger to his lips. “Shh. I told you before, it’s a state secret.”

“Sarge!”

His mouth lifted in a half smile.

“It’s where I live. Let’s go in and I’ll explain.”

From the garage, the key card was necessary to get into the building and again to summon the elevator. Merrick’s apartment was on the fourth floor. It was a nice place. The layout was basic. The door opened to a vestibule, which opened in one direction into a galley kitchen and the other to a large living-dining room. Merrick led us through the living room to a hall beyond. There were three bedrooms. The first one was being used as an office. The second one had bunk beds and a hockey theme.

“This is my son’s room,” he told us.

“Is he my age?” asked Boone.

Merrick smiled. “No, my son is grown up.” He turned to me. “This is my condo. Nate doesn’t live here anymore, but you’ll see quite a bit of him. He’s a good guy. I think you’ll like him.” He turned back to my kids. “Do you guys mind sharing a room?”

Hope and Boone shook their heads and started debating who would get the upper bunk.

The master bedroom was next. It was furnished with a solid pine, Shaker-style suite. It included a king-sized bed, dresser, and bedside tables. I recognized it from an Ikea catalogue. There was even one of their ubiquitous bookshelves. En suite, there was a three-piece bathroom with a walk-in shower.

“Nice,” I said, looking around.

“All yours for the duration. I’ll clear some space in the dresser and closet. I’ve been meaning to put up another bookshelf. This is a good opportunity. Nate’s bringing it by tomorrow. We’ll set it up and you’ll have a place for your books. That’s what I brought, mostly, the books from your bedroom.”

“Thank you. Good choice. Those are my comfort books.”

There was an awkward moment when I wanted to break the rules and hug him.

“I’ll go put some tea on,” he said abruptly. “There’s not much food in the house, so we’ll order in tonight. Pizza good?”

“Pizza is great.”

He hesitated and I hoped he was having rule-breaking thoughts too.

“I guess we don’t need it right away.”

“Not right away,” I agreed, taking a step toward him. “Sergeant Merrick, if I am staying here, where will you be?”

He heaved a sigh. “Out of town, mostly.”

“But not tonight?” I did my best to sound neutral—not provocative or panicked. I must have succeeded.

“Don’t worry, Hartley, you’re not inconveniencing me. Tonight I’ll make up the bed in my office. There’s a pull-out couch.”

Darn. I tried not to look disappointed. I liked it better when he had to sleep in the same room.

Nate was a very nice, good-looking guy. He was tall, lean-muscled, with dark curly hair and grey eyes—very like his father but built for speed rather than stopping power. He looked young, mid-twenties at most, except around the eyes. They were shadowed and lined and had the look of a man who had seen too much. Again, like his father.

“Nate is going to be your bodyguard,” Merrick announced, while Nate and the twins worked on the new bookcase. “He’ll come here each morning and take you and the kids to school. Hope and Boone are enrolled in a private school that caters to government and diplomatic clients. It’s a high security establishment and they are used to students coming and going, so it won’t be strange for your children to enroll midway through the year.”

Not strange for the school, but weird for Hope and Boone.

“Once they’re at school, Hope and Boone will be safe. For the rest of the day, you and Nate can work out a schedule that will suit you both. I want him to be with you whenever you’re not here or at the school.”

“Surely your son has a life that I am disrupting.”

“He’s just finished six years in the army, mostly spent in Afghanistan. He’s gone back to school part-time and is debating whether to go for officer’s training or police training or who knows what. He won’t dog your every step, but he’s familiar with protection details. I trust him.”

That wasn’t what I was getting at, but I let it drop. As the man said, Nate and I could work it out.

“Okay,” I said, changing the topic. “Tell me about this school.”

“It’s a little different.” He almost smiled. “Hope and Boone aren’t far off comparing it to Hogwarts. Many of the students board there. Some stay while their parents are out of the country. Some are from other countries. A few are like your kids, in protective custody. They have to get creative to accommodate the different students. It will be a mind broadening experience for them. And it’s only temporary. In a couple of weeks, this whole situation could be settled.”

I choked back a snort of laughter. It wasn’t that I thought he was lying. I just couldn’t believe his forecast.

*    *    *

In the afternoon we all visited the school, Nate included. We drove, but it was within walking distance of Merrick’s condo. The school was a big old house. Outside it looked like the house from
The Addams Family
TV show. Inside, Nate said it reminded him of ‘Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters’ from the
X-Men
. Boone and Hope stuck with Hogwarts and wished they could meet Harry Potter.

There were only three classes—Primary, Junior, and Senior. Partly, this was because the school was small. Partly, it was a choice to compensate for the variables in the previous education of the students. Each class had at least two core teachers—one for English, one for French. Plus, there were art, music, science, and physical education teachers. More importantly, once you got past the armed security at the front door and on patrol in the yard, it was easy to forget that the place was protected up the wazoo. All the other measures were nearly invisible.

Based on their grade, Hope and Boone were provisionally placed in the intermediate class. Their knowledge and skills would be assessed over their first week to determine their academic levels and spot any weaknesses. I knew one. They weren’t fluent in French. That, I was assured, wouldn’t be a problem.

We visited the gym, science lab, and art and music rooms. We explored the library, where we were each allowed to sign out a book. Boone found a book on great Canadian inventions. Hope discovered a Nancy Drew book she hadn’t read yet. I picked up an illustrated guide to spy gear.

“Does the place meet with your approval, Hartley?” Merrick asked on the way back to his apartment.

“I like it. I like it a lot.” I turned so I could look into the backseat. “You guys like the school?”

They gave me a hurried yes then got back to speculating what special subjects they would take—still thinking magic more than math and language.

“Nate, would you mind walking to school?” I asked, craning to see him in the seat immediately behind me. “I usually walk in the morning and this would be a way of doing so without taking up too much of your time.”

“Works for me.”

I nodded and arranged myself more comfortably. During the drive, I considered other things I could do to be less of a burden. When Merrick parked, I turned and broached the subject again.

“You know, I can work anywhere, as long as I have coffee and a plug for my laptop. So, if you need to go to class or the library or whatever, I’m pretty flexible.”

Nate shrugged sheepishly.

“Actually, I was hoping you might feel that way, so I asked my professors if you could sit in on the classes. I told them you were doing research. They’re good with it. The only one that’s a problem is Chemistry Lab. It’s three hours on Wednesday afternoons.”

“I can stay home Wednesday afternoons,” I said. “For that matter I don’t have to be out every day—I just don’t want to be cooped up all the time.”

“I trust you two to find a workable balance,” Merrick interjected. “I moved you here so you could have more freedom as well as be safer.” He turned to his son. “Just take reasonable precautions. I don’t want anything happening to either of you.”

We were parked at a supermarket. Our next mission was grocery shopping. Merrick left us with Nate for that, pleading other errands to accomplish. He dropped us off and told us to get a taxi home. When we got back to the condo, we discovered what he had been doing. On the desk in the kids’ room was a new computer. Merrick followed the kids in and addressed them.

“You have limited access to the Internet and Zeke has arranged special email accounts so you can write to your family and friends. Limited means you can visit the same sites you’d be allowed to go to at school. You can receive mail, but only your mother can send outgoing messages. No chat or instant messaging, okay?” He turned to me. “Their computer is programmed to upload outgoing mail to your computer via the wireless router. Make sure that they don’t give away where you are.”

I nodded.

“Sarge! What’s this?” Boone held up a small box with a bow. Hope was turning over an identical box in her hand.

“It looks like a birthday present,” Merrick said, as if he wasn’t sure. “Perhaps you should open it.”

Boone didn’t have to be told twice.

“Mom look!”

Once I got him to stop waving it around, I saw he was holding a cell phone.

“Their own phones?” I queried, looking over at Merrick.

“Not exactly,” Merrick said. “Those are cellular radios. They can call you, they can call Nate, and they can call 9-1-1. That’s it. Of course, you and Nate can call them and they can call each other. Oh, and the device is also an MP3 player.”

“Cool!” Boone exclaimed.

“I can’t call my friends?” asked Hope. “How about texting?”

“Not from that phone, or anywhere else either,” Merrick told her. “You have to rely on email.”

I took a closer look and saw there was no number pad on the device, only a menu and cursor keys. I handed it back to Boone.

“It really is very cool.”

I was a bit envious. As if he read my mind, Merrick pressed something into my hand.

“I didn’t forget you, Hartley,” Merrick said, handing me a device about the size of a playing card and the thickness of about one suit in the deck. “It has all the usual bells and whistles, unlimited roaming and is shielded and encrypted.”

He pointed to the authentication label on the back, then flipped it over again. “It has a couple of hot keys, one for me and one for Nate. Zeke transferred your directory from your old phone. I’ve added the numbers for the kids. Your number is blocked, and I would prefer that you don’t give it out. The phone here has an answering service. All calls will go through the service first. That way you don’t have to deal with my messages. I’ve asked the service to page you on the cell if the call is for you. You can make outgoing calls to your closest family and friends. Just use discretion. The more you call, the more likely you’ll compromise your safety.”