Angel in the Full Moon (11 page)

Both men chortled.

Jack and Laura were parked near the entrance to the Russians' apartment building and Laura used the steering wheel to steady the binoculars as she looked at a car that just arrived. “Oh, man,” she said, passing the binoculars to Jack.

Jack adjusted the binoculars and yelled, “Damn it! That's Dúc dropping them off! Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

“Only ten in the morning,” commented Laura. “Wonder what they were up to? Maybe just meeting for breakfast.”

“Maybe. Would have been nice to know for sure instead of seeing if my tie matched my shirt. Dúc isn't usually an early riser. Something was up.”

“Stay with the Russians or go with Dúc?” asked Laura.

“Let's sit on the Russians. They're our main targets.”

It was late in the afternoon when Quaile called Jack and told him to return to the office.

Jack returned and walked into Quaile's office alone.

“Close the door,” said Quaile, “and have a seat.”

Jack did as instructed.

“What have you learned about the Russians today?”

“This morning they were dropped off at about ten by Dúc. Laura and I sat on them all day but they haven't moved.”

“You just sat out there wasting an entire shift?”

“These guys haven't been supplying me with their itinerary. They're not a couple of boys who work in offices. It takes time.”

“You've had plenty of time. I would have expected a competent investigator to have come up with something more substantial by now.”

“Is this what you called us in for? Perhaps if we were still out there, we would have something more substantial,” said Jack, crossly.

“Your annual assessment couldn't wait any longer,” replied Quaile, “otherwise it would be overdue. I am a firm believer in punctuality.” He gestured to the forms in front of him and said, “A few questions. Do you speak French?”

“No,” sighed Jack, while checking his watch. “I have passable Spanish and am learning some Russian and Vietnamese, however.”

“That's ridiculous!” said Quaile, looking dumbstruck. “Canada is bilingual ... French and English. Stop learning those and take French.”

“I don't believe the Russians I'm working on know French,” replied Jack innocently.

Quaile glared at Jack and said, “How far did you ever expect to get in the RCMP?”

“To the rank of corporal,” Jack replied bitterly.

“I didn't ask you what your rank is now! I asked you how far you ever expected to get!”

“I heard you. As I said, to the rank of corporal.”

Quaile continued to glare at Jack for several seconds without speaking, before saying, “I don't believe we have anything further to say to each other.”

“Neither do I,” replied Jack, before returning to his office.

Hang lay curled on her mattress, her tongue exploring the holes in her gums from her missing front teeth. She knew that soon her father would be expecting her to call.
When I don't, questions will be asked. People will look for me ...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar creak of the passage door. She did not feel the fear she once did. She was still another day away from a red circle on the calendar ... and knew Pops would wait until then to do something to her.

Today she expected Pops to smile and mark another X on the calendar, which he did, but he also had a message.

“Your dad thinks you are dead. Killed in a car accident.”

Hang's emotions played havoc with her brain.
Father will be crying because of me!
Then she came to a horrible conclusion—the real reason Pops was smiling.
Nobody will miss me! Nobody will come looking!

“That's right,” said Pops. “Everyone thinks you're dead. Nobody will ever look for you now.”

Hang turned her face into the sponge mattress and wept.

“Do not cry,” said Pops. “Soon you will have your sister to love. And I do mean
love!
” Pops snickered as he left.

Eventually Hang stopped crying and found herself staring at the calendar. She looked past the red circles to something more horrific.
Linh's arrival! It will be soon ... and it is up to me to do ... whatever ... to save her.

She stared around the room. She knew it well, right down to the number of brass screws in the ceiling. Now, her attention focused on the toilet tank ... and a plan began to formulate.

It was eleven o'clock at night when Jack and Laura saw the lights flick off in the penthouse suite. Jack was glad the Russians decided to have an early night. He was tired ... and depressed. He was home an hour later and was glad to see that Natasha was still awake as she lay in bed reading a book. Twenty minutes later, he got in bed beside her as she put the book down.

“You close to catching these Russians?”

“Not that. Quaile did my annual assessment today. It went badly.”

Jack sighed and told Natasha about his differences with Quaile.

“In the morning he wants me to bust my ass and find out what the Russians are all about. In the afternoon he does this to me. The guy doesn't have a clue about management.”

“You told me before that you didn't think he would last long. You expected him to be transferred soon.”

“Now I think I'll be transferred first, if my assessment is any indication.”

“To where?”

Jack shrugged and said bitterly, “I suspect I'll be going back to harness, but who knows where. I guess the good news is I'd be working regular shifts. More time to spend with you,” he added, forcing a smile.

Natasha gently pulled Jack closer so that their naked bodies could entwine as one, with their heads sharing the same pillow. “As much as I would like to spend more time with you—twenty-four-seven, actually—I know that is not feasible. And going back to uniform? You wouldn't be happy.”

“I may not exactly get a choice in this matter,” replied Jack.

Natasha lifted the covers and looked at Jack's body.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Looking for the man I married,” she replied, dropping the sheets. “That guy wouldn't have given up so easily. That guy always found a way to solve a problem.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Believe me, I've been trying. Laura and I have been putting everything we have into catching these two Russians. I thought that if we did, it might give Quaile reason to reflect. Perhaps adjust his thinking. Now, thinking about how he screwed me on my assessment, I'm not sure that would even work.”

“You're tired, stressed, and depressed.”

“Tell me about it.”

“If you actually took some time off to relax, maybe enjoy life, it would clear your head. Give your brain a chance to re-energize.”

“I know,” sighed Jack. “What you say is right, but it's a Catch-22. If I take time off, then I might miss something with the Russians ... then I'd really be screwed.”

“It would still be good to give yourself a small break from it.”

“I can't. Maybe in a couple of weeks ...”

“You have to lower your stress level. It's not healthy. Mentally or physically.”

“And how the hell do I do that? Quaile's riding my—”

“Shut up about Quaile!” said Natasha angrily. “Complaining about him won't help.”

“Then what do you suggest?” snapped Jack in exasperation. “I'm trying damn hard to go by the rules and look what it's gotten me! If I had screwed up or got caught doing something I shouldn't, then fine. I deserve it. But this is bullshit. I know life isn't fair, but it's eating me up inside.”

The two of them silently stared up at the ceiling.

Eventually Jack rolled over to face Natasha. “I'm sorry,” he said. “That just didn't come out right. I really love you. I think you're an amazing person and sometimes wonder how you put up with me ... and what I do. I just have so many things on my mind. Now is not the time to take a holiday. I wouldn't be able to relax anyway.”

Natasha sighed and said, “Yeah, I know. I sometimes wonder myself how I put up with you. Laura once said that I was a brave woman to be married to you.”

Jack felt relieved that Natasha wasn't angry. “Laura told you that? That wench! Don't believe anything she says.”

Natasha smiled and said, “Of course she was joking, but in a way, it made me think.”

“Think of what?”

“Of how much I love you—to put up with all the crap you do put me through.”

Jack reflected on his relationship with Natasha since they had met and admitted, “There has been a lot of stress—I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” sighed Natasha. “It's not entirely your fault. I brought home my own bag of stress.”

“Oh?” said Jack. “Want to talk about it?”

Natasha swallowed and said, “Today I had a patient. A young mom with cancer. She's pregnant with her third and refuses chemo ... the only thing that might save her at this point.”

“That's awful.”

“It makes you think. I can put up with just about anything as long as we're together,” she added, bringing her face close to his.

Jack felt her warm mouth linger on his lips. When she pulled away, he said, “I guess we really should remember to put things in perspective. You look around at our apartment, all the things we have ... but the really important things in life aren't things.”

“Despite what goes on at work,” said Natasha, “we have each other. Enjoy life. Every precious minute. Speaking of which, I do have an idea that might help you.”

“Right now? You said I needed a break from work.”

“Something to make your work more fun.”

“I'm listening.”

“Would you still like to learn a few more words of Russian? We could start with the parts of the body,” said Natasha, with a grin. “Correct pronunciation and memory could be enhanced through a tactile approach.”

Jack smiled and said, “Now I know what you mean by making my work fun.”

Laura checked her watch. It was 1:45 in the afternoon and for the last five hours she had been sitting in a car with Jack. They were parked where they could observe the front
entrance to the Russians' apartment.

She glanced at Jack. Yesterday he had told her about the meeting he'd had with Quaile over his assessment. She had a sleepless night because of it.
I know life isn't fair ... but why do some people go out of their way to make it unfair?

She cleared her throat and said, “If you end up being transferred because of Quaile, then I'm putting in for a transfer, too.”

Jack looked at her and said, “Thanks ... I appreciate what you're saying, but in the long run, that just means the bad guys win. You're a real asset to the section. I'd really hate to see what it would be like if Quaile brought in his own minions.”

Laura sighed and said, “Oh, man ... I hadn't thought about that. I know you're right, but I still couldn't work for a man like that. It's barely tolerable with you as a buffer. I'd flip out if I had to deal with him directly.”

“I guess you have to do what makes
you
happy ... but don't quit just because of me. Besides, maybe a break for me would be okay.”

“Don't try and placate me,” replied Laura. “I know you better than that. This is your life.”

“Yours, too,” replied Jack. “Which is why I don't want you to throw it away on my account.”

“I wouldn't be throwing it away. I'd probably be saving myself from being arrested for homicide.”

Jack chuckled, turned up the radio and said, “Oh, one of my favourites.” He started drumming his fingers on the steering wheel while singing along to Billy Joel's “You May Be Right.”

“I thought you liked classical?” asked Laura, more to save her ears than find out the answer.

“All depends on the mood I'm in,” replied Jack. “I basically like it all. Classical, country, rock ... anything but heavy metal or opera. One of my favourites is Dr. Hook.”

Laura saw him pause to pick up with the words on the radio and quickly said, “You're awfully perky today—considering how you felt yesterday after seeing Quaile.”

Jack smiled and leaned back in his seat and said, “I get the point. Sorry. I think one of the most dangerous things I ever did was to try and sing karaoke in a bar one night. You're right, though, nothing like a few hours of sleep to put life back in perspective.”

“Somehow I get the feeling that you did more than sleep.”

Jack gave Laura a sideways glance and said, “God help Elvis if he ever fooled around on you.”

“He'd only do it once.”

“Hey, that reminds me. Natasha said you told her she was a brave woman to marry me.”

Laura snickered, but didn't reply.

“I told her you were a wench. Not to believe anything you say.”

“A wench! Is that what you called me?” said Laura, giving Jack a playful punch on the arm.

“Out of the car,” said Jack, seriously.

“I was kidding!”

“No. Our targets. Moustache Pete and the Fat Man.... They're taking a walk.”

Laura quickly got out of the car and hustled down the street. She caught up to the Russians and kept pace with them from the opposite side of the street. She used a portable radio to keep in touch with Jack, who would reposition the car as they went.

“They just went inside a business,” radioed Laura. “Travel King. Stand by—I'll do a walk past.” Moments later, Laura radioed again, “They're just sitting down with a woman. Looks like they're planning on taking a trip.”

Laura rejoined Jack in the car and they waited. Twenty
minutes later, the Russians appeared and walked back toward their apartment.

“Do you think they knew the woman?” asked Jack.

“No, I saw them shaking hands, like an introduction.”