Deadline (27 page)

“You kicking me out?” he said, once they were both on the sidewalk.

“You can look at it that way,” she said, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Or you can decide that you’ve had enough to drink and it’s time to go home and go to sleep.”

Jack stood there and thought about that for a minute.

He hugged her.

“You’re a good friend, Jennifer,” he said.

“I’m going to call you a cab.”

“I’m all right,” he said, and he staggered down the street.

It was bitterly cold outside. The wind whipping down Sparks Street was full of snow. Jack wanted another drink, and he wanted to find out who had set him up.

Ellen Simms was surprised when Jack came into Hy’s, surprised and alarmed. She was seated at the bar with Balusi and Bouchard, and they had had a few drinks, but not nearly as many as Jack.

He staggered into the bar and stood there with a dark expression on his face, looking around.

“Oh my God,” said Ellen, and Balusi and Bouchard turned to look. “I hope he’s not looking for me.”

He was, though, and he started towards her.

“Hi,” he said. “How you doing, Ellen?”

He leaned against the bar and asked Wayne, the bartender, for a beer.

“How about a water?” said the bartender.

Jack smiled, as if he and Wayne were sharing a joke, took the water and turned to Ellen.

“What’s that smell?” said Balusi. “What’s that on your shoe?”

Jack looked down at his foot and forced a laugh, then he took a drink of water and looked at Ellen.

“Ellen, I was just wondering if you knew who set me up?” he said. “I mean with the story today. I fucked it up, but somebody fucking set me up. I don’t think it was you, but I wonder if you know who.”

Simms looked at him with real alarm. “I have no idea,” she said. “And I think you should go home.” She turned to Bouchard. “He’s scaring me.”

Balusi stepped between them.

“It’s time for you to go,” he said. “Ellen doesn’t want to talk to you.”

Jack could see Ellen watching him, to see how he’d react. Balusi stepped closer to him.

Jack took a step back.

“It’s puke,” he said to Balusi.

“What?”

“On my shoe. I puked on my shoe today when I saw my story, my story was shit. It’s puke.”

Balusi tried not to laugh. Ellen snorted. “This is pathetic.”

“Kid,” Bouchard said. “There’s times you gotta know you’re beat. Tomorrow’s another day. You should go home.”

Jack nodded and took another drink of water and walked out into the cold.

Sophie, he thought. I want to see Sophie. I don’t want to go home.

It took a long time to get to her place. He was walking slowly, and at one point he got lost and walked the wrong way for a while. When he finally reached her apartment building he waited until he saw someone leaving, and entered as they were on their way out. He rode the elevator up and knocked on her door.

“Sophie,” he said.

He heard her move around and then he could tell she was looking at him through the peephole. He was suddenly self-conscious.

“Can I come in?”

“Jack,” she said from behind the door. “I’m sorry. You can’t come in.”

He frowned. “Please let me in” he said. “Just for a minute. I just want to talk to you for a minute.”

“No,” she said. “You need to go.”

Jack heard the indistinct rumble of a male voice from behind the door.

“Jack,” she said. “I’m sorry. There’s somebody here.”

He frowned again. He opened his mouth and closed it without speaking.

“Okay,” he said.

He turned to walk away, then stopped.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said.

Jack was suddenly very hungry, so he walked to the McDonald’s on Elgin Street and ate a Big Mac with fries. He was a bit less drunk after he finished eating, but felt worse: depressed and tired. So he went outside and got in a taxi.

It was hard to dig the keys out of his pocket and hard to get them in the front door of his building. It was hard to walk up the stairs to his apartment and it was hard to open his apartment door.

“Fuck,” he said, when he pushed the door open at last.

He turned to switch on the living room light and suddenly he was falling down, convulsing in the darkness, all his muscles cramped, his teeth jammed shut and his heart pounding. He had no idea what had happened to him, but he was sure he was going to die. He was face down on the floor of his apartment. His muscles twitched.

Someone turned on the lights and he could see a pair of boots in front of his face. Someone else grabbed him and flipped him onto his back. He was looking up at Sergeant Michel Castonguay, who was holding a stun gun in his hand.

Castonguay was squatting down, next to Jack. He was wearing black pants, black turtleneck, a dark blue ski jacket and black leather gloves. He snapped his fingers in front of Jack’s eyes. Jack blinked.

His muscles had stopped twitching but he still couldn’t move.

“How we doing?” said Castonguay. “Bit tired? Bit drunk?”

Jack spluttered.

“Easy now,” said Castonguay. “It takes a minute.”

He held up the stun gun. “This is the Taser 3000. It’s designed to immobilize an attacker for several minutes.”

He looked behind Jack. “I told you it was stronger than the old ones,” he said.

“You’re right,” said another man. “You’re usually right.”

The second man came around and stood next to Castonguay. He was a bit younger, with dark brown hair and bushy brown moustache. He was dressed the same as Castonguay, except his ski jacket was black.

Castonguay said, “Are you sober enough to understand what I’m saying?”

Jack nodded.

“If you start screaming or moving or doing anything I don’t like, I’m going to hit you again with this.” He tapped the stun gun with one gloved finger. “Okay?” He peered at Jack intently, trying to see if he really understood.

Jack nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m going to ask you a few questions, and you’re going to answer them. Then we’re going to leave, and you are going to move to Newfoundland and never bother us again. Got it?”

Jack nodded.

Castonguay looked at his partner and then back at Jack. “Okay, question one. We are looking for something. Do you know what that is?”

Jack nodded.

“What?” said Castonguay.

Jack tried to speak. “BbbbbbBlackBerry,” he said.

“That’s right,” said Castonguay. “Whose BlackBerry?”

“Ed’s,” said Jack.

“Good. Now, do you know where it is?”

Jack nodded. “Taxi,” he said.

Castonguay narrowed his eyes. “It’s in a taxi? What taxi?”

“Chateau Laurier,” Jack said. “Taxi from Chateau Laurier. Blue Line. Two Four Five.”

Castonguay bit his lip. “You put Ed Sawatski’s BlackBerry in Taxi 245, outside the Chateau Laurier?”

Jack nodded. “Scared. I was scared. You were chasing me. I jammed my BlackBerry and his in the bbbbbumper.”

“Oh boy,” said Castonguay.

He got to his feet.

“Watch him,” he said to his partner, and he handed him the stun gun. Castonguay took out his cell phone and walked over to the corner of the room. He entered a number and held the phone to his ear.

Jack could hear him.

“Dupré reporting,” he said. He listened for a few seconds. “The kid says he put the target in the taxi with his own BlackBerry. Blue Line Taxi 245. At the Chateau. He put them both in the same cab.”

He listened. “That’s right. I know.” He paced and listened some more. “Yup. With the Taser. He is co-operating.” He listened again. “Yup,” he said. “I think so.”

Jack tried to flex his hands, and found that he could move them again. He twitched his legs and found that they were also coming back to life.

“Yeah,” said Castonguay. “Okay. Roger that.”

He put the cell phone in his pocket and came over and bent over Jack again.

“Don’t move,” he said to Jack, and opened Jack’s overcoat and suit coat.

He opened Jack’s BlackBerry holster, took out his Berry and walked over and sat down on the couch. He poked at it and then looked down at Jack. “Password?”

Castonguay’s partner tapped the stun gun.

“Crackie,” said Jack. “C R A C K I E.”

Castonguay typed it in.

“Okay,” he said.

Jack looked up at Castonguay’s partner. “It’s what we call dogs in Newfoundland. Like mutts.”

“Shut up,” said Castonguay’s partner.

Castonguay dialled again.

“Okay,” he said. “I’m in.”

He listened for a few minutes, then wedged the phone between his ear and his shoulder and fiddled with Jack’s Berry for a few minutes.

“Sorry,” he said into the phone. “It’s taking longer than it should because of the gloves.”

He flicked through pages on the Berry.

“They are clean,” he said. “Nothing from our friend.”

He put the Berry down on the coffee table and held the phone to his ear. “Okay,” he said. “Got it. Yeah. Good idea. Okay. I’ll call you in a few.”

He walked into the kitchen, returned with a beer and squatted in front of Jack. “Have a beer. Go on. Sit up. You should be able to sit up now.”

Jack sat up. He was very confused. Castonguay handed him the beer. “Go ahead,” he said. “Open it.”

Jack unscrewed the cap.

“Go ahead,” Castonguay said. “Have a drink.”

“Why do you want me to drink a beer?”

Castonguay smiled. “Have a sip and then I’ll tell you.”

Jack took a swallow.

“Okay,” said Castonguay. “We’re going to give you some sleeping pills.”

He reached into the pocket of his coat and brought out a little stainless steel pill container and unscrewed the lid.

“These are not very strong,” he said. “So you have to take a few. You need the beer to wash them down. These particular pills may also make your memory a little hazy in the morning. So we’re going to give you a few extra, because we would be happy if you can’t really remember our little visit too well.”

He poured two pills into his hand. “Open up.”

Jack opened his mouth and Castonguay popped in the pills. He nodded at the beer. Jack took a slug. Castonguay shook two more pills out of the container. “One more time.”

Jack shook his head. “That’s enough. I’m already sleepy.”

Castonguay smiled and stood up. “Hit him,” he said to his partner.

This time Jack actually saw the blue spark from the stun gun. He made a small yelp and then he was convulsed again, all his muscles twisting and twitching. He spasmed on his back and passed out.

When he came to, his head was in Castonguay’s lap. He could open his eyes, but he couldn’t make his limbs move. Castonguay was holding his mouth open. He dropped a handful of pills onto Jack’s tongue and then poured in some beer. He closed Jack’s mouth and pinched his nose shut. Jack was suddenly unable to breath. He tried to struggle, but all he could do was flop his arms around. He had no choice but to swallow the pills. He choked them down and then opened his mouth to gulp for air.

“Good boy,” said Castonguay. “Sweet dreams.”

Castonguay moved away and dialled the cell phone. “All done,” he said. “I just gave them to him now.”

He listened for a moment and picked up Jack’s BlackBerry. “All ready,” he said.

Jack felt very strange. He still couldn’t move his arms or legs but he didn’t feel much of a desire to do so. He closed his eyes and listened to Castonguay talk on the phone.

“Okay,” he said. “Sophie Fortin. Got it. An email or a PIN message? Okay.”

Castonguay typed as he repeated the instructions he was getting over the phone.

“Subject: Too much. Okay. Done. Next? I fucked up so bad. Sorry. It’s better this way. Okay. That it? You sure? No. I think it works. Okay.”

He’s writing my suicide note, thought Jack. He felt a deep stab of sadness at the prospect of dying. He forced his eyes open and tried to move, but only managed to twitch.

I have to accept this, he thought.

“What do you mean?” Castonguay said. “No. No. I hit send already.”

He turned and glared down at Jack.

“Fuck,” he said. “I misunderstood. I’m sorry. I thought you wanted me to hit send. No. It’s too late. I did it.”

He paced as he listened, then stopped in front of Jack’s face. “Yes,” he said. “Okay. We’ll get out of here then. No. You’re right. It was stupid.”