Eye for an Eye (8 page)

‘Just don’t do
anything you could be arrested for, will you. I told you, it’s too
far to come to bail you out. And don’t do anything he could sue you
for - we don’t want him getting his hands on any more of the family
finances, do we?’

‘OK Pete, I’ll
be careful. Better go, this call will be costing us heaps. I’ll
give you a shout and let you know how it goes. See ya!’

She hung up the
phone feeling much happier. Pete was good to bounce ideas off, and
although he might be a bit over-cautious, at least she knew he was
on her side.

Now it was time
for some real skirmishing. Guerrilla tactics were what she needed,
make some lightning raids here and there then head for the hills.
That would keep her target off-balance, and would effectively stop
his enjoyment of his stolen lifestyle.

She rummaged in
her pack for a few key items, regretfully setting aside the lamb
docker for the moment, and made a list of other things she’d need
to obtain. Then she set forth to equip herself with weapons and
ammunition ready to do battle with the enemy.

Her first
purchase was a pair of small plastic water pistols, followed by a
little tin of white enamel paint and another of black. From the
same toy-shop, she picked up a light peashooter which would fit
discreetly in her hand. At a supermarket she bought bleach, a few
items of food, some scissors, and a temporary hair dye. From a
cheap souvenir stall she got a Blue Jays cap and a Maple Leaf
T-shirt, figuring that they would help her to blend in to the local
scene without being too noticeable. Then she went back to the hotel
to assemble her purchases into weapons of - perhaps not mass
destruction, but at least severe harassment.

One water
pistol was loaded with the white paint and a dash of black, while
the other was carefully filled with bleach. She put a plastic cap
on the end of the peashooter and found a bag it would fit into. She
put on the T-shirt and cap, then emptied most of the camera gear
from her camera bag and loaded it up with the equipment she’d
bought.

She looked in
the fly-speckled mirror and smiled grimly. Time to kick some ass!
When Mr. Symons came back from his boat trip, she’d be waiting for
him, tucked away out of sight so she could follow him home and find
out where he lived. But somehow she didn’t think he’d reach home in
quite the same immaculate condition as he’d set out.

The heat of the
day was subsiding as Robyn walked back to the marina, though the
air was still warm. Towards the lakefront people were sitting at
tables outside restaurants, enjoying the summer evening. Snatches
of music mingled with laughter and clinks of glasses, drowned out
by the roar of traffic as Robyn walked under the expressway
overpass. A soft orange light played across the lake and a cool
breeze felt good against her skin. She reached the marina gates,
and started down the dock towards berth 217.

Before she’d
gone more than a few steps, she saw Colwyn Symons coming the other
way, accompanied by an older couple. The woman was laughing and
patting him on the arm, while the man smiled and feigned a punch to
his jaw. Robyn turned around quickly and hurried across to the next
dock, where she positioned herself out of view behind a boat and
waited with pounding heart for the group to pass by. At last, after
many cheerful quips, they shook hands and parted company.

Robyn slipped
away from her hiding place and followed Colwyn Symons at a safe
distance until he was on a busier street downtown. Then she edged
nearer, and pulled the paint-loaded water pistol from her bag. As a
flock of seagulls flew overhead, she took aim and landed a splash
of paint on his right shoulder, then ducked back into the crowd.
She watched with glee as he looked skyward, then pulled out a crisp
white handkerchief and dabbed ineffectually at the stain.

‘Love is
Armani-splendored thing…’ she trilled, savouring the moment. Score
one for a hefty dry-cleaning bill. She twisted the cap on her head
until it faced backwards to change her appearance in case she’d
been noticed. It was time to look for some other ammunition. Eyes
glued to the sidewalk, she hunted until she spotted a dog turd that
was just slightly dry but would do the job. Swiftly she bent and
dipped the end of the peashooter in it and walked on. Then she
moved closer to Colwyn again, closing in until she was within
range. She carefully aimed for a spot on the back of his collar,
and fired. The brown speck stuck fast. After a few moments, she saw
him look around, sniffing disdainfully. Then he checked the bottom
of his shoes. He walked on but she could see that every time he
passed someone the eddy of air brought the smell to his nose again.
It was a pity that it was relatively late in the day, she thought.
Having an unidentifiable and unlocatable smell hanging round for
the whole day would have been so much more annoying for him.

She dropped the
peashooter into a rubbish bin and tried to keep the grin off her
face. Score now two to nil. But perhaps she should allow Colwyn one
point since she’d fallen into the lake while chasing him. OK, say
two to one - she was still in the lead.

When she looked
up she saw that Colwyn was getting ahead of her so she closed the
gap, while still allowing several people to walk between them in
case he looked round and saw her. Then, peering between the
shoulders of a pair of American tourists, she saw him run up a
short flight of steps and enter the sliding glass doors of a tall,
marble-faced apartment building.

Robyn was
momentarily stumped. She couldn’t follow him straight in because
he’d see her, and she suspected from the look of the place there
might be a doorman who would prevent her from walking in on her
own. She paused outside for a moment, giving Colwyn time to go
through the lobby, then opened the outer door herself.

‘Hi there, can
I help you?’ The doorman looked up from his console.

‘Hi, isn’t it a
great day?’ She smiled widely and exuded as much charm and
confidence as she could muster. ‘I’m with Colwyn Symons, the guy
that just came in. I stopped out there to tie my shoe and he didn’t
even notice! Walked right on without me. Great guy, huh?’

She started to
walk towards the elevator to see which floor it had stopped at.
There was no guarantee that he lived here, he might just be
visiting, but if she could get close enough at least she’d see
which floor he was on.

‘Would you like
to give him a call?’ asked the doorman. ‘Or if you’ll wait one
moment, ma’am, I’ll page him for you.’

‘Oh, would you?
Thank you.’

Aha! So he
definitely did live there, that was worth finding out in itself.
Now if she could just see what number the doorman was dialling? She
casually wandered back towards the console and tried to see which
buttons he was pushing without being too obvious, but it told her
nothing.

She looked
round the lobby while rapidly trying to think of a way to avoid
this unplanned meeting.

‘Um, look, hold
on a second - don’t page him right now. I think I’ll go get us a
pizza for supper, he likes those. I’ll be back in a few minutes, so
don’t disturb him just yet, OK?’

With a small
triumphant smile on her lips, she was away down the front steps
before the doorman had a chance to answer.

Around the
corner, she opened her bag and wrote down the apartment number she
had just seen on the lobby mailboxes before she had a chance to
forget it. C.Symons, Apartment 1123. Brilliant! Now that she had
his address she could find him in two locations. That had to double
her chances of doing him some damage.

Exultant as she
was, she’d had enough for one day. She was tired now and ready to
find her dinner and bed.

By morning the
kernel of an idea had sown itself in her brain. It was a daring
plan, risky even, but she thought she had a fair chance of getting
away with it. It would take a bit of setting up, so she made an
early start.

First stop was
the Eatons Centre, where she used a ‘print-your-own business card’
machine to produce a professional-looking flyer advertising a
‘Mobile executive grooming and hair care service’. Then she
purchased a white clinician’s coat from a surplus store, and a
cooling gel eye mask from a drugstore. Combined with her
battery-operated shaver, scissors, towel and a few combs, she
thought it made a pretty convincing package.

Back in her
room, she used a temporary hair dye to change her own appearance,
cautiously reading the instructions and following them to the
letter. Once she’d rinsed her hair she looked in the mirror and
gasped at the transformation from blonde to redhead. It made her
feel like a completely different person, one who might just get
away with the scam she was about to attempt. She put on her
shortest skirt and some high shoes, and packed her useful camera
bag with the hair-cutting equipment and the white coat.

On the way to
Colwyn’s apartment she found the nearest chemist and asked for a
make-up demonstration, explaining that she was trying for a role as
hairdresser in a play. By the time the assistant had finished
enthusiastically demonstrating mascara, eye shadow, lip gloss and
blusher, Robyn was confident that her own brother wouldn’t have
recognised her.

She entered the
foyer of Colwyn’s apartment building, smiled sweetly at the doorman
and picked up the lobby phone. The code for his apartment was
handily listed and she punched it in with trembling fingers. He
picked up with a crisp ‘Yes?’ and she began her spiel, selling the
concept of a home haircut for busy businessmen, and putting on a
slight American accent to throw him off the scent.

‘Our view is
that a busy executive always needs to look his best, even when he
doesn’t have the time to go to a stylist. Our trained operators can
have you looking as if you just stepped out of a salon in a
fraction of the time it would take to go to one. May we set up an
appointment for you?’ She could feel his hesitation. ‘If you book
right now, the second visit is free, that’s our special for
August.’

‘Oh all right,
you’ve talked me into it. I guess I’m due for a haircut, and
today’s pretty quiet –could you get here this morning?’

‘I’ll send one
of our top operators over immediately, sir. We’re based downtown so
it will only take a few minutes.’

She retreated
to a nearby coffee shop to wait for the few minutes, allowing her
nerves to subside. After downing the last of her cup of tea, she
returned to the apartment building and buzzed him again, trying to
alter her voice as she announced herself.

He opened the
door when she knocked, seemed to accept her appearance as being
appropriate to her trade, and invited her in. Her heart raced as
she walked past him into the apartment, and it was all she could do
not to gasp at the luxurious surroundings. The view over the lake
was spectacular, prompting her to wonder bitterly if Colwyn was
paying the rent for this little slice of paradise with the money
he’d stolen from her father.

Barely
suppressing her natural urge to strangle him, Robyn sat him down in
front of the vanity unit in the bathroom and clipped a towel round
his shoulders. Then she pulled the eye mask from her bag and
settled it gently on his face, covering his eyes completely.

‘We like to
give our clients a chance to relax, since you have to sit still
anyway sir. Just let yourself go while I take care of
everything.’

Nervousness
made her voice go high, but it was appropriately squeaky for the
bimbo role she was trying to play, and she managed to keep up the
accent for the little she said to him. It took great self-control
to steady her hands, and to refrain from squeezing them round his
throat now that she finally had him in front of her. But the
revenge she had in mind would be longer-lasting than a few moments
of common assault.

She ran a comb
through his hair and got to work with the scissors, taking time to
get both sides even. She’d had plenty of practice cutting Pete’s
hair and her father’s, and she was no slouch in the shearing shed
either.

Once the cut
was finished, she looked around furtively then took out some
permanent dyes from her bag. Under the guise of giving Colwyn a
scalp massage, she painted a large erect penis on the back of his
head in indelible purple ink. It rose majestically up to his crown,
counter-pointed by two bright green testicles at the base just
above his shirt collar. When her artwork was complete, she got out
her razor and shaved his neck, checking to see how relaxed he was.
As he was paying no attention, she shaved lightly around the
coloured area as well so that it stood out in proud relief to
complete the effect.

‘Just wait
there, Mr. Symons,’ she murmured soothingly. ‘I’ll get the mirror
so you can check the back.’

She quietly
gathered her things and moved towards the bathroom door, edged it
gently closed behind her, then sprinted like a mad-woman out of the
apartment and towards the elevator. She thumbed the button as a
diversion, then dived through the stairwell door and clattered down
two flights where she paused to remove the white coat and stuff it
into her bag. By the time she reached the lobby her knees were
trembling from the strain, but she forced herself to walk casually
towards the front door. As she reached the security desk she
managed to squeak out ‘Bye bye, now,’ in her best bimbo voice, and
was rewarded with a knowing leer from both the doorman and a
swarthy egg-shaped man who was hanging around the front desk.

The outer door
opened with a blast of warm air and she was down the steps and onto
the sidewalk, intent on putting as much distance between herself
and Colwyn Symons as possible.

Moments later
the doorman appeared at the top of the steps, looking up and down
the street. Seeing no sign of a woman in a white coat, he shook his
head and disappeared back inside.