When Hell Freezes Over Page 15

  “If they come through that door, I’m going to put a world of hurt on them.”

  “Nice sentiment, Michael, but I don’t think they’ll want to risk setting off any alarms. I just want to be sure they’re gone when we leave.”

  “What about your footprints in the snow?” She snorted.“I’m one step ahead of you. It’ll look like someone left and didn’t come back.”

  “You think of everything,” I shot back.

  “No. I blew a stake-out once by not remembering about footprints in the snow.”

  Sure enough, we soon heard noises outside the door and detected a faint shadow on the curtain where someone was trying to see in.

  “Skinny guy,” Shannon whispered. “John Smith, by name. Not too smart by all accounts, but good with his fists. Him I’m not worried about. It’s the other guy. Everyone tells me he’s nuts. That kind is always dangerous.”

  “How comforting...”

  “Do you have a flashlight handy? I want to go to the side door, and I don’t want to risk turning on the warehouse lights.”

  I couldn’t put my hands on a flashlight quickly, but I did have a lighter a client had left on my desk a few weeks earlier, so we used that to light our way across the warehouse. John Smith was reporting back.

  “I don’t think anyone’s in there,” we could hear him say through the door.

  “You sure?” his companion asked.

  “There weren’t any lights on. Looks like he snuck out the front.”

  “Are you absolutely sure?”

  “There were footprints by the front door.”

  “The big man ain’t gonna be happy about this, and we don’t get paid until the job is done.”

  “The guy split, I swear! Let’s get the hell out of here. I’m freezing!” Then the crazy one said something that froze my blood. “When we get our hands on that little shit, maybe I’ll cut off a few of his fingers so he’ll remember it don’t pay to mess around with people like us.”

  That’s all we heard, until a car started up and drove off. I reached for the lock, but Shannon grabbed my forearm.

  “Wait!” she hissed. “I think they’re pretty dumb overall, but let’s not find out we’re dumber. Besides, the front door is a better bet.”

  We waited fifteen minutes before Shannon felt it was safe to leave. During that time, she used her cell phone to call home. Her motherdidn’t sound happy about having to babysit: bingo night.

  “I suppose they could,” she said into the phone. “Look, put Rachel on. I want to talk to her.” While waiting, Shannon, dimly seen in the light as I held the curtain back a little to survey the parking lot outside, rolled her eyes at me. “Rachel, honey, Gram wants to go to her bingo night, and I’m not going to be home for a while yet. I’d like you to take care of Robbie until I come home... Yes, I will... No!... You may not!... Am I going to do what? Young lady, we’re having a long talk when I get home. A long talk!... Yes. Now put Gram on again.”

  I unlocked the door, and Shannon stalked out with nary a look to the left or right. I followed as she headed down the sidewalk to her office. A gentle snow had begun to fall, and it felt as if the temperature was dropping again.

  When we got to her business, she walked through the reception area, into her office and shut the door behind us. “Right. We’ve made it this far.” She then opened up a closet and started taking things off the shelves, handing them to me to lay on her desk. Most looked like pretty serious tools of the trade.

  “Do you have a computer at home?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “Yes.”

  “And high-speed internet?”

  “Yes! What’s all this for?”

  Shannon turned and looked at me with X-ray intensity. “You’re paying me to look after you as well as finding that girl?”

  “Yes...”

  “Well, I’m just doing my job!”

  With that, she turned back to the closet, rummaging around in some boxes on its floor. By the time she’d finished, she had littered her desk with equipment. Hands on hips, she looked at the pile for over a minute, then nodded. “That’s about it.”

  “Are you going to tell me what you’re up to?”

  She took a folded gym bag out of the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet. “Like I said, I’m being paid to look after you. That’s what this stuff is for. I have to go to Montreal tomorrow to try to pick up the trail of your little friend, and I want to make damn sure that nothing happens to you while I’m gone. These little babies,” she continued, handing me a palm-sized thing with a lens, “are going to be watching your apartment. Ever get one of those internet ads for a spy camera? What you’re holding is a lot like those, just with a few more bells and whistles.”

  “Like what?”

  “Infrared and sound activation. We’ll put a couple inside the apartment and one out in the hall, and you’ll be able to see what’s happening on the home front from the comfort of your office. If you spot any hanky-panky, you just call the cops.”

  “What if I’m at home, and they’re out in the hall?”

  “Same thing.”

  “And the rest of this stuff?”

  “Mostly the electronics to connect everything.” Shannon looked over at me. When I nodded, she added, “Good. Let’s get going. I want to get home at a decent hour!”

  My hired car was parked on the front side of the building near the door we’d exited from earlier, but Shannon insisted on going out to check things over. Since she was the expert, I humoured her, but I did have to admit that the events of the past twenty-four hours were making me very uneasy, and the sooner we got to the bottom of the whole mess, the better I would like it.

  We drove downtown in tandem. Halfway down the Don Valley Parkway, Shannon pulled up next to me, honked and made actions like talking into a cell phone.

  I flipped it on, and it rang almost immediately. “What?” I asked.

  “I just wanted to let you know that there wasn’t anyone following, in case you’re concerned about that.” With that, she slipped back behind me.

  The lights of downtown Toronto sparkled as only a large city can on a cold, clear night. Some would comment on all the electricity being wasted lighting empty buildings, but I thought it looked lovely. Swinging west onto the Gardiner Expressway, I had the whole of downtown spread out next to me. Beautiful!

  Exiting at Jameson, we doubled back along King to the street past Dufferin where my loft was located. Shannon had never been right behind me, but she somehow stayed with me and pulled into a visitor’s spot outside as I shut off the engine.

  The basement of the renovated factory had been turned into parking, and the upper part of the walls had been cut away to let in a bit of natural light. It was a nice effect, since it made the garage seem less like a cave. Shannon appeared on the ramp, slipping a little on some ice, and I stepped forward to take her surprisingly heavy gym bag. She didn’t look particularly grateful, but she didn’t say no.

  As we headed for the lift, her eyes were constantly moving, assessing possible places to attack from, I supposed. Taking out my key, I used it to summon the lift. By the time the door opened, Shannon was fairly vibrating, but as it shut she slouched against the back wall and smiled tightly.

  “Are you really that worried?” I asked.

  By way of answer, Shannon produced a palm size black box from her coat pocket. It looked as if it had been stepped on. “I found this stuck under the back of your car. Global positioning...”

  “Hmmm...”

  “My sentiments exactly. That’s why I was being so careful on the drive down.” The lift doors slid open again. Shannon stepped out first, looking in both directions down the deserted hallway. I picked up the bag and showed her to my door.

  She turned to me. “You said there’s always a security guard in the lobby. Are they strict about who gets in?”

  “They have to be around here.”

  “Don’t trust them.”

  Shannon unzipped the bag and to
ok out a plastic pouch. Inside was a coiled thing made out of metal with an eyepiece at one end.

  “Fiberscope—great for checking things out if you don’t want to be seen.” She uncoiled it, slipped it under my door, and stood looking for

  a few moments. “Everything seems okay.”

  The next two hours were pretty eye-opening. Shannon checked the apartment over for listening devices and plugged a gadget into my phone that would instantly tell me if anyone was listening in. The motion detector video camera she put in the living room looked for all the world like a clock radio, and the one in my bedroom looked like a vase, complete with silk flowers. Out in the hall, she found a dark corner by a heating duct to put a third camera, then everything was connected by a some sort of box to my laptop.

  “You’re lucky you don’t have a cat or dog,” Shannon said as she installed some software. “We had a client once with several cats, and my husband and I had to wade through hours of them chasing each other around the poor guy’s house!” She crawled under my desk.

  “Now you must leave this on all the time if you want to be able to check out what’s happening here while you’re away. This gadget I’m connecting to your line will allow you to use your phones to listen in on what’s going on in the apartment.”

  “Why do I need that with the cameras?”

  “Because you can use your cell phone from down in the garage to do a last minute check on whether someone has recently arrived.”

  “Do you normally use this gear for protecting people?”

  Her eyes shut for a moment. “No, mostly we use it in suspected infidelity cases.”

  “Do you handle a lot of those?”

  She suddenly busied herself with putting tools and things back in her gym bag. “I try to do as few of those as possible.” Her voice sounded tired.

  At the front door, Shannon looked around the living room once more, satisfied. “I’ve done what I can. I still think you should leave town until I can sort this out.”

  I sighed. “You know that’s not possible.”

  “Thought I’d try once more. Look, Michael, I don’t want to sound paranoid, but take this threat seriously. Look over your shoulder. Don’t go anywhere alone. You may think no one knows where you live, but they can find you if they’re determined.”

  “When will you be back from Montreal?”

  “Tomorrow evening, unless I run into a hot lead.” Her expression softened a bit. “Take care of yourself, Michael. I want to get you to that Neurotica concert in one piece.”

  “Good luck on your trip,” I answered in return.

  Shannon looked grim again. “I’m going to need it. Now I really must be getting home. I promised I wouldn’t be too late.”

  I watched as she walked down the hall to the lift, gym bag slung over her shoulder. Shutting the door, I went to the kitchen and poured myself a stiffish glass of Highland Park single malt, my drink of choice, and leaned against the counter sipping it.

  Strange woman. Something had set her off tonight. Shannon had been so friendly when she’d caught me playing, but shortly afterwards she was treating me as if I were a client she didn’t like very much. The really odd thing was that while claiming to be a huge fan of my band, she hadn’t once glanced at any of the awards lining the hallway.

  Thirteen

  Shannon’s gadgets didn’t do much to help me get a good night’s sleep. Every creak and sigh the old building produced had me wide awake, straining to identify sounds that might mean I wasn’t alone.

  About the time the sky started brightening, I finally drifted off into a very deep sleep. Like so many early morning dreams, it was very detailed, almost like watching a movie.

  At first it was enjoyable. I was back playing music again. The other musicians were not my old mates from Neurotica, but the tune was something we had been working on about the time I’d left the band. The room looked like a hotel ballroom, and we were set up in the centre. I’d get wrapped up in what I was playing then look up to find that one of the musicians had been replaced by a “Neuroticand”, not as they were back in the day, but as they had looked at Angus’s funeral. This happened over and over until the group was completely Neurotica, and I began growing anxious that I’d be forced to keep playing with them.

  We finally took a break, and everyone decided to go out for a pint, but I stayed back in the darkened, empty room, suddenly engulfed by anguish. I realized that I should be with my mates and not alone, so I yelled for them to wait, but they took no notice. By the time I got into the hall, they were nowhere to be seen.

  I wandered endless, deserted hallways for what seemed like hours, all the time tense and nervous. Turning a corner, I ran into Angus, but Angus as he’d looked twenty-four years earlier.

  “Quicksilver! Thank God I’ve found you! You have to come and help me. Something dreadful has happened!”

  I started backing away, knowing what would come next, but a wall I hadn’t remembered stopped me.

  Angus grabbed me by the shoulders and looked into my face. “Michael, you’re the only one who can help! Don’t back out on me now, man! Follow me.”

  He stomped off down the dimly-lit hotel corridor, not looking back to see if I was following. Again, it seemed to take hours. Finally, the dream Angus stopped in front of a door, motioning silently. Reluctantly, I moved forward. As I got close, he swung the door open and gestured inside.

  I wanted to run, to be anywhere else on the planet, but I’d been through this so many times that the next sequence had become ingrained on my psyche. I began taking the final steps to the door, my heart thundering in my chest, dread filling my heart.

  That morning, though, something wonderful happened. I suddenly woke to find myself in my own bed.

  Closing my eyes, I blessed Shannon for making me so anxious about those brutes. I’d been spared from the conclusion of my horrible nightmare so few times that it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from me. The sound that had wakened me was caused by an icicle. Warmed by the morning sun, it had broken off and clanged on the window sill as it splintered into a thousand pieces, much like my nightmare had just been shattered.

  Feeling more peaceful than I had in a long time, I lay back, smiling. A glance at the clock told me that it was almost nine a.m, and I should shift my lazy arse. Shannon would be in Montreal by now.

  I wondered what sort of information she’d bring back.

  ***

  Shannon glared at the seat back in front of her as if it was responsible for the way she felt that morning: majorly cranky. Yeah, yeah, it could be put down to having to pry herself out of bed at five thirty after only four hours sleep in order to catch the seven thirty flight, but she knew it went deeper than that.

  The evening before, she’d had the worst fight ever with her daughter over what Rachel had said on the phone. The girl had defended herself by saying that she’d only been kidding.

  Shannon didn’t take the offered way out. “You had no right to say something like that to me!”

  “Yeah, and now you’re going to tell me that it’s because you’re my mother. That’s a bullshit excuse, and you know it. Be honest! You like him. You told me once how you thought he was ‘dreamy’.”

  “Rachel! Good God, I felt that way when I was seventeen!”

  “So? I saw the way you were staring at him the other night. Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t like to sleep with him!”

  Shannon couldn’t clearly remember the sequence of what happened next. Suddenly Rachel was standing there with a handshaped red mark on her cheek, and Shannon’s right hand was stinging. She’d never struck one of her children before.

  Rachel ran from the room, leaving her mother standing there, feeling empty and sick.

  Later, when she’d pulled herself together, she had gone to Rachel’s door and tapped lightly. “Rachel, honey, can we talk?”

  Silence.

  Robbie opened his door and peeked out, then quickly shut it when his mom glared a
t him.

  “Rachel, please open up. I’m sorry I got so angry. That was uncalled for, and I apologize.”

  Silence.

  Shannon had finally given up and gone to her own room. Flopping crosswise on the bed, she’d stared at the ceiling late into the night.

  ***

  Not knowing where the trail would take her that day, Shannon picked up a rental car and a map of Montreal. The fact that she had several identical maps back at the office from previous investigations didn’t improve her mood any.

  The address Michael’s chickie had given the hotel was in the city’s east end near Rue St. Denis, an area familiar to Shannon. Even though she had to fight rush hour traffic, she made pretty good time.

  However, Montreal had received the brunt of the recent blizzard, and driving on the back streets proved slow and laborious. Because of the mounds of snow, parking places were at a premium, so she grabbed the first one she saw, leaving her a walk of at least three more blocks, judging by the street numbers.

  She had an ambivalent relationship with the city, this neighbourhood especially, and old memories weighed on her mind as she slipped slid along the sidewalk.

  Her ex’s family had settled in Montreal after emigrating from and Ireland, and “Big Rob” had lived in a flat near St. Joseph and Papineau for most of his childhood. Soon after they met, he’d talked Shannon into visiting his old stomping grounds. At this point, Shannon had thought of her fellow officer as a buddy. Since they had coinciding vacations and she had nowhere else to go, she’d agreed, never having seen Montreal. Since they’d be staying with his “sainted widowed grandmother,” Shannon hadn’t felt the least bit awkward accepting the invitation.

  The drive from Toronto had been great fun, with Rob in high spirits, and as usual, driving way too fast. They’d gotten pulled over on the 401, but he’d talked his way out of a ticket, being a “brother officer”.

  Visiting at the height of summer, Shannon had been charmed by the city. These old neighbourhoods lined with very distinctive buildings, their outer staircases curving up to the second- and thirdfloor flats reminded her of something right out of Europe. Even though her high school French was not very good, the people had made Shannon feel comfortable, and besides, Rob spoke the language well enough in a rough and ready style. Most nights they spent clubbing on St. Denis or visiting his old chums. Days were spent with him showing her the tourist sites. She’d especially loved Old Montreal.