Blue Rubicon (22 page)

“Way ahead of you,” she said. That’s my
girl.

“She really believes in that whole forgiveness
thing, eh?” Kara said once I put my phone away.

“Apparently. You in or out?”

“In. Safety in numbers. And you still have
those guns, right?”

Did I? They apparently ransacked my room,
but the guns were in the trunk of Kara’s car.

“If I do, they’re in your trunk. My pistol
they took, though.”

Kara nodded. “And SIU has mine.”

“Guards?”

“If you think we can trust them.”

I mustered a weak smile. “I think we’re
good now.”

A FEW HOURS LATER FIVE of us sat in a decent-sized
hotel room, a trigger-locked shotgun and rifle between us. An empty bottle of
wine, three empty cooler bottles, half a dozen crushed cans of beer and a
partially drained mickey of rye decorated the table in front of us. We all sat
on the floor, the injured of us using pillows to prop our broken parts up in
more comfortable positions.

The deck of cards was already worn out,
some of the cards bearing wet spots of a variety of alcoholic beverages, others
sticky with remnants of the authentic dim sum Chen had finally gotten his way
with.

Without the guns I would’ve felt like a
rock star, making a mess like this in a hotel room—although at least nothing
was damaged. And despite the large amount of empty beverage containers, we were
all still pretty much sober.

I try not to get hammered with lethal
weapons in the room. But I was off-duty, the weapons weren’t loaded, they were
secured properly and the ammunition was secured elsewhere. Not a rule or law
was being broken.

Except for Chen and his white slippers
after Labour Day.

And here we sat, drinking, eating, playing
cards and joking around. Two couples and a mistress. Two wounded men and three
concerned women. No matter how I worded it, it still seemed strange.

Kat had called back to Poland just before
the food came, describing the ordeal in detail, and in Polish, to her parents.
Then I took the phone and made sure the kids knew I was all right. They knew
very little about what had happened and I wanted to keep it that way as long as
I could. Once they got back, things would change.

We tried to keep the topic away from
everything that had happened, away from the dead, the wounded and the tortured,
but I had to speak—I had to know if I was crazy.

“I saw him when I was in there. Carter,” I
said. Everyone looked up at me, their vacant stares telling me to continue.

“When Warren was Tazing me, I was slipping—the
pain was too much. I couldn’t take it and I was close to blacking out. But then
I saw Carter standing behind him, he had the hood on Kat, just like in my
dream. And he reached his arm out toward me. I was still cuffed, but it was
like I was reaching out too.”

“I told you you had a guardian angel,” Kat
said. The smile in her eyes said it all.

“I don’t know what to believe, but he
disappeared when Warren shocked me again. Then he was back, the hood gone but
his face buried in his hands. He was crying, saying ‘sorry’ over and over
again. But he reached out and touched my shoulder. I can’t describe how it
felt, but wherever it came from, I had the strength to fight again.”

“Did you see his face?” Chen was asking. I
knew of his beliefs—the Chinese customs of venerating and making sacrifices to
their ancestors—and I knew he wouldn’t doubt my story.

“No, but I know it was him.”

I could see that Kara wasn’t sure, her eyes
gave away her misgivings.

“I don’t know what to believe, Kara. I
agree with you, I was being tortured, the pain was affecting me, making me
hallucinate. But at the same time, I don’t think it was a hallucination—I’ve
had enough of those to know the difference.”

There were a couple of uneasy chuckles
paired with the shaking of heads.

“
There are more things in heaven and
earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.
” It was a fitting
line to end the conversation, and luckily the crowd was one where I didn’t have
to explain the reference.

The socializing went on for a couple more
hours, until the moon was high in the sky and the clock had turned over to a
new day. Chen and Julie said their goodbyes and went through the double door
into their room, the rifle and lockbox of ammo under his good arm.

Kara stood up and walked toward the other
side, her hand reaching for the door handle.

“Take the couch, Kara,” Kat said. She
didn’t even give her time to argue. “Simple math. Two guns, three rooms. Don’t
argue with the teacher.”

Kara nodded and thanked Kat then went to
find a comfortable spot on the sofa. I stood in the kitchenette watching
through the small pass-through into the dining area. Kat saw me staring and
came around, her arms sliding behind me.

“Thanks,” I said.

“She saved your life, Lincoln. All is
forgiven.” She held me tight and I had to wriggle to turn my body around within
her grasp. Once we were face to face I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed
as hard as I could with one hand and a cast.

Kat leaned back and met my eyes. “With her,
anyway. You might take a little longer.” Thank God for the smile in the eyes,
otherwise I would’ve felt even more like an asshole. “But I can think of a few
things you can do to repay me.”

A look of lust and excitement filled my
eyes.

“Nice try, Romeo. You can build me a new
house, for starters. I’ll need a new car, a whole new wardrobe, new dishes
finally and…”

Did I want to know what was coming? So much
for a change in career.

“A pool. A big one, deep too. Diving board
and all that.”

“Ahem,” I said. “That’s my dream.”

She smiled and put her head back on my
shoulder.

“Let me know what I need to do…” she said,
quietly and directly into my ear. The heat of her breath tickled against my
skin. “…to get you your old job back.”

I held her even closer, pushing the air out
of both our lungs.

“Thank you,” I said.

“Just promise to stay safe, okay?”

“I promise.”

I just hoped I’d be able to keep it.

KARA, CHEN AND I SAT in the back of an
unmarked van, waiting for the right moment. We weren’t far from Warren’s
cottage, close enough that we could spy on the building with an infrared
camera. Someone was still awake, but they were alone. Judging by the size of
the body—the red and orange glow on the screen—it was a match to Simpson.

We had all of our ducks in a row—a consent
to search form signed by Warren, a Feeney-endorsed warrant that also gave us
permission to go in unannounced, and a TRU team armed to the teeth with everything
they could possibly need. Even with the consent to search, the warrant made
sure nothing could be questioned. It wouldn’t take much for a defense lawyer to
raise the issue that Warren’s name wasn’t on the deed.

An hour later we watched as the form on the
screen climbed the stairs to the second floor, and walked to a bed-shaped
object. He lifted the pillow and slid his hand underneath for just a moment.

A gun. Great.

I radioed the TRU Sergeant and updated him
on what we’d seen. The next step was to wait long enough for Simpson, assuming
it really was him, to fall asleep. After another hour and a half, we figured it
was time.

Chen stayed in the van—our eyes on the
outside—and stayed in constant radio contact with us, updating us on any
changes. Kara and I formed up behind the TRU team. They would be our
infiltration team and we would tag along behind waiting to take custody and
make the arrest.

We snuck through the hedges from the
adjacent lot and made our way to the rear of the house. Warren had detailed the
floor plan and we’d planned accordingly, taking the most direct route to the
upstairs.

I handed Warren’s keys to the Sergeant and
he silently unlocked the rear door to the home. We moved in and shut the door
behind us. It was a nearly brand-new cottage, something that worked in our
favour. Absent were the squeaking hinges, the creaking floorboards, the noisy
stairs.

It was a tight squeeze bringing all six of
us up the stairs and into the hallway but we managed, with Kara and I remaining
midway in the hall, hanging back a few feet. The team went for the main
entrance to the bedroom and formed up outside the door.

“Stop,” came Chen’s voice in our ears. Our
very own Mr. Wizard. “He’s stirring. Hold.”

We all waited, wondering what would come
next. A fierce gun battle? Been there.

“He’s sitting up, looking around. Reaching
for the pillow.” Chen’s voice sped up at that point and the next thing I heard
was the clattering of metal on the floor and the prolonged
woosh
of air
escaping.

Thanks guys. Real nice.

I took Kara by the arm and we backed down
the hallway then down the stairs. Tear gas. In a closed environment, when only
you guys have gas masks.

I could hear the team barking orders and I
kept waiting for the sound of gunshots. It never came. Kara and I had moved
outside once the gas creeped down the stairs and the door remained open,
letting the gas spill into the cool night air.

Loud coughs echoed in the backyard as
Simpson was led outside, emerging from the gaseous cloud.

“Brandon Simpson,” I said. “You’re under
arrest for the first-degree murder of Jakob Carter…”

I never even saw it coming. A large gob of
mucous-laden spit flew from his mouth and hit me square in the face. I wanted
to punch him, but even if he was being assaultive, he was handcuffed. It didn’t
feel right, justified or not.

I didn’t need to make the decision. With
three TRU members behind him, I had no idea who acted. All I saw was Simpson’s
knees buckling as he crashed to the ground. He lay there for a moment, fetal
position, cursing and swearing, until one of the TRU members pulled out a face
mask and threw it over Simpson’s head.

“Cute,” I said, my gaze cast down at him.

“Fuck you.”

“As I was saying, you’re under arrest for
the first-degree murder of Jakob Carter…”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“…trafficking in controlled substances…”

“Goof.”

“…conspiracy to commit an indictable
offence…”

“Rat.”

“…numerous firearms offences…”

“Pussy.”

“…and you’re also wanted in the States for
trafficking in firearms.”

“Cocksucker.”

I read him his caution, not that he’d ever
take the whole ‘right to remain silent’ thing to heart, and he was taken away
and loaded into a waiting patrol vehicle. He kept yelling, screaming and
cursing at everyone he could—becoming the type of arrested party he himself had
likely hated. It was a fitting end to a couple of weeks of hell as we watched
them roll off, Simpson bouncing around in the caged rear of the cruiser.

After thanking the boys and girl of the TRU
team and making sure Mr. Wizard was okay (finally, a new nickname for Chen), my
next step was to call Kat.

“It’s over,” was all I needed to say.

A WEEK LATER WE STOOD in the cool afternoon
air, Chen, Kara and I in our dress uniforms, Julie and Kat in black dresses and
Laura wearing the black dress and demi-veil of the mourning widow. Even little
Noah was dressed in black, a tiny pair of dress pants and suit jacket over a
onesie. I wasn’t sure were Laura would’ve found a suit that small, and the
thought that it had even been necessary brought tears to my eyes.

We stood in front of St. Peter’s Cathedral
in downtown London as a team of six OPP officers in full dress carried a casket
draped with the flag of the Ontario Provincial Police. The casket was empty,
just a symbol of Jakob’s life and death.

I’d made sure Carter got the police funeral
he deserved, complete with the parade of officers from all over Canada and the
US, the motorcade of cruisers, the Commissioner of the OPP and a number of
high-ranking politicians. If Carter was watching, I hoped he’d be proud to see
what his life meant—and I hoped that this would be enough for him to forgive me
for making people believe he’d taken his own life.

But in reality, it was for Laura—and for
Noah, though he couldn’t understand it now. The tears that streamed down her
face were a steady mix of joy and sorrow, pride and anguish. Her husband died
for something he believed in, and now the world knew the truth.

Vern’s funeral would be tomorrow—two sad
days in a row, but there were many who traveled far and wide to attend the
funerals of their fallen brethren. This gave them the chance to be present for
both.

Carter’s casket passed us on its way into
the basilica, taken to the front by the altar where a photo of Carter, blown up
to poster size, stood framed and wreathed in flowers. On the wreath was
Carter’s medal, awarded posthumously the day before—Commander of Merit of the
Police Forces. It was an award created by Queen Elizabeth II only twelve years
prior, and awarded for exceptional service and merit.

Carter hadn’t been the only one to receive
the medal. Kara, Chen and I all stood proud in our dress uniforms just two days
prior to accept our awards and those bestowed upon Carter and Vern. It was a
special ceremony, called and held in record time—the standard long wait before
medals were awarded was gone. Carter and Vern were to be inducted into the
Order before their funerals—Kara, Chen and I were just along for the ride.

We took our seats in the front pews of the
church, now filled beyond capacity with thousands of mourners on the streets
outside. And as the priest began to speak I saw him once more, his hood
removed, standing beside the casket. His eyes were fixed on me as I looked to
my left and right to see if anyone else was sharing in my vision.

It was just the two of us, Carter and I,
our eyes locked as the priest’s words melded together and trailed past my ears.
He only gave a simple nod, a nod that meant so much, before he was gone once
more.

I put my hand on Kat’s leg and squeezed
gently as the priest read passages from the Bible and Laura wept silently
beside me.