Art and Murder (5 page)

Roche had barely turned to walk to the café when Kerin headed for the public washrooms again. He knew he didn't have much time. On his way he texted a short message to the surveillance team:

RF meeting Ring in café across from park. My meet may be put off.

With the four members of the surveillance team who were on foot, Kerin knew it would look better if a couple of them were already in the café when Roche arrived. As he neared the washrooms, he glanced back and was pleased to see two of the team enter the café before Roche. The other two took up positions on the sidewalk.

As he made his way around to the front of the washrooms, any elation he had at the prospect of meeting the Ringmaster was gone. A police officer's life was at stake and he had a sickening feeling that there wouldn't be enough time to save him.

Jack saw Clive swallow nervously as they leaned against the front of the car. Anton had told them to wait as he was expecting a call back.

Anton and Bojan stood a short distance away with their arms folded across their chests, watching. Tension was high, and the silence made every minute seem like ten.

Jack was conscious of the floodlight above his head, but under the situation he did not see much choice. As he waited, he noticed a close-circuit television camera mounted on the corner of the house and another one on the outbuilding. Finally, he saw Anton answer his phone and speak briefly, before hanging up and whispering to Bojan.

“So what's the story, guys?” Jack asked.

Anton glared at Jack. “I've been told to give you what you ask for, but once it is in your hands, Klaus and Liam must be released before you go.”

“I don't like that idea,” Jack said. “There's no reason for me to hold the two of them once I'm away from here. I'll let them go then.”

“Also no reason for you not to kill them,” said Bojan.

“That is the only way we can do it,” added Anton. He pointed his finger at Clive. “You are responsible for this and will pay us back before the day is over!”

“Not a problem,” Clive said. “My money is in a safety deposit box. I'll get it as soon as the bank opens.”

Anton nodded, then turned his attention to Jack. “Under the circumstances, given what they did to your lady, we have no quarrel with you.”

“Okay, but I want to see the coke in my hand before they're released,” said Jack.

“That is not a problem. You will see that it is high quality. Wait here and I will get it.”

Anton went to the outbuilding, entering through a side door, and flicked on the lights. A few minutes later he beckoned for them to come inside.

Jack entered and saw that the building was being used as a workshop. There was a table saw in the room, along with piles of lumber and partially built pieces of furniture. Some of the furniture was clamped for gluing and resting on sawhorses. Another piece of furniture on a workbench was wrapped in bubble wrap.

An open door at the far end of the workspace led into another room, and Jack caught a glimpse of a band saw and another workbench, with tools hanging on the wall above it.

“Over there,” said Anton, pointing to a set of weigh scales on the nearby bench. On the scales was a clear plastic bag containing a brick of white powder. “Check it out, it's yours.”

Jack checked the weight. It was slightly more than a pound. Anton had broken a kilo in two and was not concerned that he was offering more than had been bargained for. He picked up the bag and examined it. “Looks good,” he said. “The weight is a little over.”

“Consider it a tip to get you the hell out of here and never come back,” replied Anton. “First, though, call your women and tell them to release my guys and tell Klaus to call me as soon as they're free.”

* * *

It was quarter after four when Laura took the call from Jack. When he explained the situation, she freed Klaus and Liam and, still holding the shotgun on them, allowed them to get dressed.

“Now get out,” she said coldly.

Klaus hesitated and glared back at Laura, until she pointed the shotgun at his face. Then he turned and, holding his jaw and mouth with one hand, followed Liam out the door. Once in the hotel parking lot he turned to Liam and mumbled, “You able to drive?”

Liam glanced nervously back at the hotel. “Yeah, that kind of sobered me up.”

Klaus tossed his car keys to Liam, and once inside the car, with his free hand he retrieved a pistol he had hidden under the dash.

“Want to go back and do the whores?” asked Liam.

Klaus glanced up at the hotel, then down at his pistol as he rethought his actions.
Go up against two whores waiting in a room with a shotgun … maybe not such a good idea. Besides, it's not them I want.
He took his hand away from his mouth and looked at the blood on his fingers. “No, not the whores. I want the fucker who did this to me. Speaking of which, I better phone my friends.”

* * *

Anton answered the call from Klaus and walked toward the end of the workshop so he could talk without being overheard. “You free?” he asked.

“Yeah, Liam and me are driving away from the hotel,” said Klaus, “but the fucking pimp … I'm sure he broke my jaw. I'm in a lot of pain. Also busted most of my teeth and my lips are all cut up. I'm spittin' blood everywhere.”

“Get Liam to take you to a hospital.”

“What about the pimp?”

“Orders are for me to do him and Clive as soon as I hang up.”

“Wish you could keep the pimp alive until I get there,” Klaus said. “Can't you gut-shoot him or something?”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“As soon as I'm out of Emergency, I'll take Liam home and be right over,” Klaus said. “If the pimp's still alive, I'm going to use every tool we got in the shop on him.”

Anton hung up and looked at Jack and smiled, then motioned with his finger for Clive to approach him. “I need to tell you exactly how you will repay us.”

Clive had taken a few steps forward when Anton raised a .32-calibre pistol and pointed it directly at his face. “You will pay with your life,” said Anton calmly.

Clive's mouth opened to scream as Anton pulled the trigger.

The bullet entered Clive's face beside his nose before ricocheting around inside his skull, turning his brain to mush. He was dead before his body hit the floor.

Roche saw the man and long-haired woman hurry into the café ahead of him. Earlier he had spotted them strolling around the park and ostensibly admiring every flower bed they came to. Another man he had seen in the park was a short distance away staring at a display case in a nearby store window.

Roche silently cursed himself for having been fooled by Kerin, then entered the café and took a seat.

* * *

Kerin entered the public washroom and a peek under the stalls told him he was alone. This time he made his call direct to dispatch and quickly explained the problem. He tapped his foot nervously as he waited while dispatch placed an urgent call to Interpol.

The feel of cold metal behind his ear told him he was no longer alone. He froze as a Latex-gloved hand reached for his phone. He released his grip on the phone and slowly turned around, facing the muzzle of a pistol.

The sound of police radios and voices from dispatch could be heard over the phone, then a dispatcher said, “We've connected with Interpol in Canada. They want to speak to you directly.”

For a brief moment Kerin clung to the hope that he was only being robbed, but that hope evaporated when his eyes shifted from the pistol to a watch with a gold-and-silver band being dangled in front of him.

Kerin knew he was going to die as he stared at the smiling face taunting him from behind the watch.

“Are you there?” came the dispatcher's voice over the phone.

“
You're
the Ringmaster!” Kerin yelled. “It's —”

He was interrupted by the gunshot. Several urgent requests from the dispatcher for him to respond went unanswered.

* * *

In the café across from the park, Roche watched the couple who had entered shortly before he did. The woman flicked her long hair out of the way and placed her hand over her ear. She appeared to be listening intently. Her face registered panic, and a comment she made to her companion sent them both running from the café. Two men who' d been outside on the sidewalk joined them as they raced to the park.

Roche waited a moment, then went to the doorway to look. At the park near the washrooms he heard a woman's screams. Another couple who had been walking a dog stood staring at the commotion. Other people bolted from parked cars and ran toward the washrooms.

Roche apologized to the waitress and told her to cancel the tea he'd ordered. Then he left.

Constable Jane Martin, on duty at the Interpol office in Ottawa, tried to calm the panic rising in her throat when she received the information from Paris that an undercover police officer in Canada was about to be murdered. Given the time of the call, she deduced that British Columbia was the most likely location. Her line to the dispatch office in Paris was still open, but she was already typing two names into the Canadian Police Information Computer as she waited to be connected with the officer who'd made the original report.

The name
Anton Roche
on CPIC did not yield a response, but
Clive Dempsey
popped up as being of interest to Corporal Jack Taggart in the Intelligence Unit in Vancouver. “Listen,” Jane said, “I've got a lead on the name Dempsey. Does your officer know if —”

“We think someone shot our agent!” screamed the French dispatcher in heavily accented English. She then yelled in French to someone in the background. “I don't know … I don't know! I heard the shot. He's not answering. He yelled,
the Ringmaster!
Then I heard … yes, it sounded like a shot. I'm certain it was. The line is dead now.”

Seconds later Constable Martin called the telecommunications centre in Vancouver. They were unaware of any undercover operation taking place, but had her wait while they called Corporal Jack Taggart, first on the air and then at home.

Jane's heart sank when the dispatcher said, “His wife was reluctant to say much, but she did say he was called out to work about 1:30 a.m. I tried his cell but it went to voice mail. I'm calling his boss, Staff-Sergeant Rose Wood. I'll give her your number, as well.”

* * *

Natasha felt uneasy after the call from someone purporting to be from the telecommunications centre.
A certain urgency in the caller's voice. Then again, with Jack, there always seems to be an urgency.

When she received a call from Rose moments later, she was really worried. Rose would not be involved at this time of the night unless something serious was going on.

She got out of bed and went into Mike and Steve's room and gave each of her sons a kiss on the cheek. She thought about trying to call Jack herself, but if he was in an undercover situation it might not be appreciated.
Besides, Rose would have already tried.

She went back to bed and turned on the light to try to read. She knew it would be another long night as she clung to the hope of what he had once told her: that he was very good at what he did. He said if he had to rewire a lamp he would probably kill himself, but undercover was his forte.

Natasha believed him. She had to. To think otherwise was unbearable.

* * *

Laura felt relieved when her phone rang. Now that Klaus and Liam had left, she was expecting Jack to call and say he was on his way back, but the call display told her it was Rose.

Oh, man. Why is she up?
Laura took a deep breath and slowly exhaled as she answered.

“Laura, are you working?” Rose asked immediately.

“Yes. We got called out unexpectedly.”

“So you're with Jack?”

“Not at the moment,” Laura said as she eyed Brandy, who was walking around the hotel room with one high-heeled shoe in her hand as she searched for the other one.

“Can we talk? Are you with someone?” Rose asked.

“Yes, but go ahead.”

“What's my middle name?”

“Alice,” replied Laura. “I'm with a source, not with any bad guys.”

“I'm trying to reach Jack. I called Natasha, who said he got called out and that she heard him call you. I tried his cell but he didn't answer. Are you working undercover?”

“Yes, we're in the middle of a UC, but I spoke to him a few minutes ago,” Laura replied as her gaze took in the bloody pillow case that had been on Klaus's head. “He's probably with someone and doesn't want to answer. I'm expecting to hear from him any minute. Do you want me to have him call you?”

“Is he with Clive Dempsey?” Rose asked tersely.

Oh, man. How did she know that?
“Yes.”

“I got a call from Interpol via France,” Rose said. “A French undercover operative heard an order directing someone in Canada to kill Clive Dempsey and an undercover police officer with him. It sounds like they searched Jack and found his badge.”

“Oh, no … no,” Laura moaned, bile rising in her throat as she fought her panic.

“Focus!” Rose demanded. “Can you contact them? Do you know where they are, who they went to see?”

“I don't know who they went to meet or exactly where he is.” Laura struggled to maintain her professionalism. “He's near Fort Langley. He texted me rough coordinates. He's between 232nd and 264th streets and somewhere north of the Number One, but south of River Road.”

“That covers a lot of area. Where are you?”

“Still in the city … at the Emerald Hotel. Jack left with Dempsey almost two hours ago. Some other bad guys were here too, but they, uh, left a couple of minutes ago. I'm not even sure if they're out of the hotel parking lot yet. I was expecting Jack to call again any minute.”

“That may not be happening,” Rose said more to herself than Laura.

“Don't say that! I … I need to concentrate.” Laura desperately tried to come up with an idea. “What else do the French have for us to go on? Is there some way you could find out who Dempsey was taking Jack to meet? Anything at all that would help?”

“No. The French telecom's centre was receiving the information through a call from their operative a few minutes ago. Then their dispatch —”

“Was receiving?” Laura asked. “What do you mean?”

“As the operative was talking, dispatch heard what sounded like a gunshot at close range. No word from their man since then.”

“Oh, my God.” Laura looked at her phone like it wasn't real, then put it back to her ear. She felt like she wanted to vomit and tears clouded her vision.

“They've got a cover team checking now to … hang on. Gotta put you on hold. Incoming call.”

Laura swallowed a couple of times to clear the bile in her throat and sat in stunned silence until Rose came back on line. “It's confirmed,” she said. “The French officer was shot in the head by an unidentified person. They have a rough description of the man who did it, but so far there've been no arrests.”

Laura fought back the tears, not knowing what to say.

“Can your source help us?” Rose asked.

“No.”

“Then get clear and call me.”

“I'll call in a couple of minutes,” Laura said. As soon as she hung up, she dialled Jack and as the phone rang, she looked at Brandy. “Get a move on! We're outta here!”

“I'm ready. Where we going?” Brandy asked. “What's going on?”

Laura's call went to voice message. She thought of Klaus as her mind filled with rage. “What's going on is I'm going to the nearest emergency room.”

“I don't need to,” Brandy said. “They worked me over pretty good, but I want to go home and —”

“It's not for you.” Laura's tone was harsh. “I'll drop you off a block or two away as soon as it's safe. You can call a cab.”

“Oh, you're going to follow Klaus away from the hospital,” Brandy said.

I don't have time to follow him,
Laura thought, tucking the shotgun under her jacket. Immediate persuasion would be needed.
When I find him, he'll phone and beg for Jack's life as if it was his own … if I'm not too late.