Blue Rubicon (10 page)

WE MADE IT TO THE station in record time, Kara driving
faster than the speed limit to get me and my stench out of her pristine
vehicle.

“I’m going to shower here. Can you go get the clothes and
meet me back here?”

“Sure,” she said, then pulled out of the parking lot with
all the windows still down. Maybe my insurance would cover the cost of her having
her car detailed.

The detachment was nearly empty. All that was left were a
few civilian staff, the cleaning crew and any night shift officers who had
decided to take their lunch at the station. I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t run
into anyone. My mood didn’t allow for storytelling.

And I was lucky enough to escape without speaking to anyone.
I made my way into the locker room and to my locker, my little bastion of calm
in a sea of corruption. As soon as the lock was off and the door opened I knew
my space had been corrupted as well. Whoever had gone through my locker didn’t
have the same degree of care and secrecy that the person who broke into my
house did.

Notebooks were scattered throughout, documents torn from
file folders, clothing pulled off hangers, even my duty belt had been emptied.
I was expecting to see that my magazines had been emptied, in case I’d been
savvy enough to hide evidence inside a spent round below the live ones.

They hadn’t gone that far. It was obvious what they were
looking for, the evidence I’d taken out from the old occurrence—the warrant
Carter had hidden.

They’d likely broken into my house first, exercising caution
and patience in their search. Frustrated, they came to the station and tore my
locker apart. After that, with the evidence still unaccounted for, they went
for the kill. Get rid of the rat and burn any evidence that was too well-hidden
for them to find.

Or was it because I’d gone snooping? Did checking out the
address, the center of their illegal operation, put me in their sights even
more? Was that the reason my family and I were almost killed?

Fuck. I had to think about something else, or succumb once
more to the guilt of what if’s and unanswered questions.

They’d helped me out in one way though. The small gym bag I
kept in my locker was completely empty, ready for me to use. Saved me digging
through and pulling out sweaty clothing. I picked up my gun, checked the serial
number to make sure it was mine then ejected the magazine and racked the slide
back.

Nothing came out.

The magazine was full, all thirteen forty caliber Smith and
Wesson rounds accounted for. They’d ejected the round and put it back in the
magazine. Someone was pissed. They couldn’t find what they wanted so they’d
taken the round out of the chamber. Now if I needed my gun, the first shot
would be a dud and I’d have to rack the slide before I could fire again.

Pissed off, but with a degree of planning. Someone wanted
the winning edge in a shootout if it came to that, or were hoping I’d get shot
at on the street and not be able to shoot back fast enough to survive.

I slid the first few rounds out and inspected them—standard
police issue. Not blanks at least. My soot-laden thumb pushed the rounds back
in, leaving black fingerprints on the shiny brass. The magazine clicked into
place once I slid it into the butt of the gun and racked a round into the
chamber.

Locked and loaded, as they say.

I put the gun in the gym bag with the two spare magazines,
each still with thirteen rounds, my Taser, handcuffs and body armour. My wallet
and cellphone dropped in next followed by the Ziploc bag, the Holy Grail
everyone was searching for. I grabbed my towel and bodywash then headed to the
showers, eager to get the stench of fire and the layer of soot off of my body.

The gym bag sat on the bench within the shower stall, away
from where the water could hit it. The gun could get wet and still work—even
fire underwater—but it wasn’t something worth risking. I doubter the Taser
would work well wet. I stripped my clothes off and threw them into the nearby
garbage can—there was no point in trying to wash them.

The water felt like paradise as it cascaded onto my back,
the warm spray breaking apart the soot and grime and rinsing it down the drain.
Clear, pure water turned to black as it ran down my body, leaving its colour on
the white grout between the tiles at my feet. I ran my fingers through my thick
hair, barely wet despite all the water, and coughed as the smell of smoke came
back strong in the enclosed stall.

I wanted to stay in the shower forever, warm and safe and
comfortable. The guilt hit again, images of Kat and the kids flashing in my
mind, being poked and prodded by doctors and nurses, black faces in light blue
hospital gowns, while I reveled in the warmth of my shower. I was becoming Kat.
She was the Catholic, the one brought up with guilt as a way of life. But my
guilt was inescapable, the choices I’d made wouldn’t allow me to run.

I turned off the water and dried myself off then wrapped the
towel around my waist. Even though it had only left my sight when I closed my
eyes to wash my face, I opened the gym bag and did an inventory of my arsenal.
Everything was there, everything was ready.

My phone rang. Perfect timing.

“Kara?”

“Yeah, I’ve got the clothes. I’m outside of the locker room
door.”

“Be right there.”

I hung up the phone and walked to the door. Kara stood
outside, her left hand holding a plastic shopping bag of clothes, her right
resting on her gun.

“Get dressed and let’s go. You’ve got a lot of shit to fill
me in on.”

I nodded. The argument was over, the hand on her gun and the
quick glances left and right proved that. I’d dragged her in, forced her hand
and put her in danger. She needed the truth, I owed her that much.

The clothes were too big. Grant had a couple of inches on me
and quite a bit more muscle. I wondered what Kara had seen in me, thirty-five
and showing my age with more grays than I wanted and a slight paunch that stuck
out above a ridiculous Western-style belt buckle.

I walked out into the hall and was met by a stifled laugh
from Kara.

“Better than nothing, right?”

“Whatever,” I said, feeling insecure in my appearance.
“Let’s go.”

Kara looked at my feet. “Can you even walk in those clown
shoes?”

“Maybe next time you find a boyfriend, don’t date someone
half Sasquatch.”

We walked out to the car and I opened the rear door to the
scent of smoke and fire. Sorry, Kara. The gym bag hit hard on the back seat and
the zipper yielded beneath my hands. I took out the gun and slipped it behind
the belt, tucked into the small of my back.

I climbed into the passenger seat, leaning back carefully to
keep from somehow ‘busting a cap in my ass’.

“Where are we going?”

“The hospital first, Nigel.”

The hit to my left shoulder came fast and hard.

“If you’re going to be a dick, call a cab. I’m no
chauffeur.”

We both laughed, strained but genuine.

“I’ve got some phone calls to make. Let me see Kat and the
kids and then I’ll fill you in on everything.”

Kara nodded as I took out my phone and started dialing. The
sun was rising over the fields as Kara drove down rural roads, staying away
from the morning traffic in the city until it was necessary. Light glimmered on
the frost-covered remnants of last year’s crops, only a few late-harvest
patches still waiting to be plucked and sold.

“Hello?”

“George, it’s Lincoln.”

I heard rustling in the background.

“It’s five in the morning, and we’re off today. What do you
need?”

He was less than thrilled. George liked his sleep.

“Someone tried to torch my house last night.”

“What the-”

“We’re fine, George. The house isn’t, but we all got out
okay.”

There was a long pause.

“Who the hell would do that?”

“Not a clue. Look, I don’t have a lot of time. First off, I
shot the guy.”

“Oh.” He sounded worried.

“He got away, but London took my personal gun. I went to the
station and grabbed mine. I’m keeping it on me. Can you call up the ranks?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Without special permission or being on a unit where it
wasn’t feasible, firearms were to stay at the station at all times while not on
duty. Almost being killed was worthy of special permission. George would just
have to call and tell the Inspector why I was going to be carrying from now on.

“I won’t be in next block, either.”

“Take whatever time you need, Lincoln. Take care of your
family.”

“I am. Kat’s scared,” I waited for a moment, paused for
dramatic effect. “She wants to go back to Poland. As soon as she and the kids
are discharged I’m taking them back.”

“Right, okay. Just keep me posted.”

“Will do. Thanks, George.”

“Stay safe, Lincoln.”

I hung up and opened the internet browser,
searching for Air Canada’s booking office. Within minutes I had four open
round-trip tickets from Toronto to Warsaw held in my name. Habits were a
wonderful thing, and having my wallet and credit cards with me was evidence of
that. We were to leave that night, a red-eye taking off at ten. A
t least
we didn’t have to worry about packing.

Kara pulled into the parking lot just as I finalized the
purchase.

“I’ll wait here,” she said as she parked the car. Whether it
was to give me time with my family or to avoid seeing Kat I wasn’t sure, but I
respected her wishes. I used the staff entrance to the emergency room, skipping
past the waiting room and charge nurse.

I followed the scent of smoke to where Kat and the kids were
just steps away from a clean bill of health and a discharge. A couple of hours
to go, some more test results to come back and they’d be free.

“You guys are okay?”

They were clean, all evidence of the fire erased from their
bodies.

“Yes,” Kat said. Kasia and Link were arguing over an
out-dated picture book. “We’ll be fine. We got out fast enough that the smoke
wasn’t that bad. How are you?”

Furious.

Homicidal.

Scared shitless.

“Okay. I called Air Canada, Kat. Ordered four tickets to
Warsaw. We leave from Pearson tonight.”

“What? Have you called my parents?”

“I couldn’t remember the number and,” I stopped, knowing
wrath was coming. Sheepishly, “I haven’t programmed it into my new phone yet.
Call from the road. If it’s an issue we can get a hotel room there. You guys can’t
stay here, it’s not safe.”

“You guys? What are you doing? And ‘new’ phone? You’ve had
it six months.”

“Taking you there, getting you and the kids settled in, and
then I’m coming back. I need to catch whoever did this. Or there’s no way you
can come back.”

“Lincoln, you need to tell someone what’s going on.”

“I’m filling Kara in, and Chen knows.”

“Someone higher up.”

“Kat, I don’t know how high up it goes. I don’t know who to
trust.”

She knew not to argue it any further. My mind was made up.

“I think I’m rethinking my policy on killing.”

I looked deep into her eyes, locking on to that mystery
called the soul. “No. You’re the good one of us, Katarzyna, our moral compass.”

“They almost killed our kids, Lincoln. I’ve never felt so
much hatred. I’d probably kill them myself. I’d probably make it slow.”

I held her tight as she cried into my shoulder. Her faith
was waning. Maybe Poland would be a good thing. If there was anyone who could
help Kat find her faith again, it was her mother. Even if the old lady was bless
the walls crazy.

“What about work for me, school for the kids?”

“If they won’t give you the time off for this, then quit.
And for the kids, I’m sure they can catch up. I’ll take care of this as fast as
I can. I have to.”

We both knew what I meant, but neither of us wanted to
acknowledge it.

“Hey kids,” I said. “How do you feel about seeing
babcia
and
dziadzio
again?”

Thunderous screams of joy prompted a nasty shushing from a
nearby nurse.

“We’re leaving tonight.”

Link and Kasia both looked so excited, like the fire was a
distant memory for them.

“But I only have pyjamas here,” Kasia said. “And they’re
dirty.”

“I know, kitten. I’m going to do a bit of shopping right
now. I’ll bring clothes back for all of you.”

I looked over at Kat and whispered, “maybe a tube top and
some booty shorts?”

“Jeans and a hoody will do. But nice try, dear.”

I left a few minutes later after saying my goodbyes. After
something like that, coming close to losing it all, goodbyes take a little
longer.

I didn’t want anything left unsaid.

I made my way out of the hospital and out to Kara’s car.
Victoria Hospital was becoming my second home. Stabbed, broken ankle and now
this. Hopefully the old adage was right—bad things come in threes. I sighed and
hoped it was over. But with this investigation barely started, I knew that
trouble would continue to find me.

Kara drove south until we hit the shopping area, a mall and
numerous outlets. But with the sun barely up, all that was open was Wal-Mart.
It took some time to gather up all the things we could possibly need. Two
suitcases large enough to pack what little remained of our lives. Some
toiletries, toys and books for the kids, magazines for Kat, shoes for all of
us, and a laptop for me. I’d only be gone for a couple of days, but maybe it would
be enough time to unlock the mysteries of the thumbdrive in my pocket, and with
my computer now a mangled heap of metal and plastic, I’d need something to work
on when I got back.

We talked quietly as we shopped and drove, Kara stunned into
silence by everything that had happened. She didn’t know what to say and I
couldn’t blame her.