Confronting the Fallen (3 page)

Chris hadn't considered that. “But, I mean,
no offense, but why should I meet with you anyway? I mean, can you
protect me from Talon? And how do I know you aren't with them? Or
else maybe you want to use me the same way they do?”

The judge smiled. “I can indeed protect you,
young man. And I will leave it up to your instincts as to whether you
should trust me or not. As to why you should meet with me?” The
man turned and stepped outside. His voice drifted back to Chris as
the judge walked toward a limousine that was pulling up in front of
the house. “Perhaps to find out why your parents were murdered.
You have ten minutes left.” And the judge opened the door of
the car, got in and closed it behind him. The limo sped off leaving
Chris standing in the doorway and staring after it in shock.

The judge's final words were echoing inside Chris'
mind. Perhaps to find out why your parents were murdered, the man had
said. Chris slowly closed the front door and walked back to the
living room. My parents weren't murdered, he thought. Dad died in a
car accident and Mom was trapped in the house when the wiring shorted
out.

He sat down and thought back to those days, back
to a time he rarely let himself remember now. He had seen the police
report on the accident and the fire marshal's report on the cause of
the blaze. Both were tragic accidents, he was told. Chris shook his
head. That judge guy is crazy. And yet... A small part of him had
always wondered about the timing of his parent's deaths. Two days
between them. What were the odds?

Chris sat back with a sigh. It was too much to
process right now, not after the day he had been having. First those
two guys from Talon... He sat up with a jerk. Talon!

Chris jumped to his feet and rushed into the
kitchen to check the clock on the stove. One-forty. If the judge was
right, he only had about five minutes to get out of the house. He
thought hard for a few seconds. There wasn't anything in the house
that he was really attached to. He had money and a bank card to get
more. All he needed was a jacket really..

He grabbed his old leather jacket from the hall
closet, raced through the house and opened the back door. He looked
around carefully but didn't see anyone, so he quickly locked the
door, jumped over the loose dirt in front of it to avoid leaving
footprints (how had the judge not left any?) and sprinted across the
yard and through the hedge at the back.

Chris knew the neighborhood well. He had made sure
to scout out the area when he had first moved in and, just in case
the judge really was crazy, he decided to watch his house to see if
Talon really did show up.

Tucked behind some bushes in a neighboring yard,
Chris could see both the front and back of his house. Minutes ticked
by and Chris saw nothing. Maybe, he thought with growing hope, maybe
that judge guy was wrong. Maybe Talon doesn't know where I am. At
least it would give me more time to get organized before I leave. But
he was right about one thing; I definitely have to get out of here
for a while.

He had almost decided to head back inside when
Chris heard a vehicle driving slowly up the street in front of his
house. He crouched down lower and watched through the brush as a van
pulled up and stopped across the street from his front yard. Chris
recognized it as a city van and wondered briefly if someone's power
or sewers needed some repairs.

He quickly realized that something else was going
on as two people, a man and a woman, dressed in overalls and work
boots, stepped out of the front of the van, while two other men, also
dressed as city workers, opened the back of the truck and jumped out
as well.

Normally Chris wouldn't have given them a second
look, but there was something about them that set off alarm bells in
his head. For one thing, the four of them all wore the same grim,
determined expression. Also, none of them were carrying tools.
Instead, after a brief conversation, they split into two pairs and
walked quickly toward his front and back doors.

Talon, he thought. Damn it, the judge was right.
Chris watched as the two at the front door stood and waited for the
other pair to reach the back.

But the judge said they would have someone else
waiting outside in case I got away, Chris thought. Guess he was
wrong. But no sooner had he thought that than a movement on the
street caught his eye and Chris saw a fifth person exit the back of
the van. It was another woman, also in coveralls, but this one was
carrying a long narrow tool case. Chris watched her walk around the
house to the far side and out of sight. Then both teams at the front
and back doors glanced in that direction, apparently assuring
themselves that the woman was in position and the couple at the front
banged loudly on the door.

Chris backed slowly away into the neighbor's yard,
staying low. I have to get out of here right now, he thought and a
feeling of panic began to rise inside of him.

As soon as he was sure it was safe, he stood up
and began to run.

The rest of that day passed in a nightmarish haze
of fear. Chris caught the first bus that was heading downtown and
made directly for the bus station. But he spotted several Talon thugs
lingering near the ticket counter. They weren't even bothering to try
to cover their tattoos. He watched them for several minutes from
around a far corner. They were laughing and talking with each other
and Chris felt a rush of anger. They might as well be on holiday!

After the bus station, he caught another bus and
headed to the train station. His apprehension mounted as he entered
the building through a side entrance. And again, just like the bus
station, Talon was there. Why weren't they hiding? he wondered. Did
they think he was just going to walk up to them and surrender?

As he left the train yard, the answer occurred to
him. Arrogance. They were confident that they had him trapped in the
city and arrogant in their superior numbers and the Talon
organization.

Time was passing quickly. By the time he got to
the airport, it was getting dark and Chris was becoming frantic. If
the airport was covered as well, how was he going to leave town? He
knew that if he didn't leave soon, Talon would track him down. There
were too many of them and they had a lot of contacts on the street.
There was nowhere he could go in town that they wouldn't find him.

His heart was in his mouth as he sidled in a door
as far away from the main entrance as possible. He stood there
looking around fearfully but felt a quick stab of hope as he spotted
no one with a tattoo on their cheek. He took a few tentative steps
toward the ticket counter across the wide space of the waiting area
and suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Chris turned quickly with a gasp but instead of a
Talon thug, an older security guard with a kind face was looking down
at him.

“Are you lost, son?” he asked with a
gentle smile.

Chris stared at him for a moment then took a deep
breath as his shock passed. “Um, no sir. I was just...just
looking for my Dad. He's supposed to be landing soon and I thought
I'd surprise him.” Chris was thinking fast. “He doesn't
expect anyone to meet him, you see.”

The man chuckled and nodded. “I see. Okay
then. I'll leave you alone to prepare your surprise. I wouldn't want
to spoil it.” With that, the man patted Chris on the shoulder
and walked away.

Chris took a deep breath. He looked around again
but still didn't see anyone suspicious looking. Was it possible
they'd overlooked the airport? Maybe they assumed that he wouldn't
dare to try to board a plane? It's possible, Chris thought.

He was about to start out again for the ticket
counter and had taken half a step when he spotted something that set
off his internal alarms.

There was a man leaning against the far end of the
counter. Chris hadn't spotted him until one of the people serving at
the counter had bent over to pick up something they had dropped.

Chris backed up quickly against the wall and tried
to look casual as he lowered his head and stared through the hair
that had fallen over his face at the suspicious man. He squinted,
trying to see the man's cheek, willing him to move. Finally, the man
shifted and slowly turned his head as he glanced around the area. And
then Chris saw the mark on his face.

Talon! I knew it, he thought. But why only one?
There must be more. Although he looked around for several minutes,
Chris couldn't spot another member of the gang. But he knew they were
there. He was sure these guys never worked alone. He retreated back
down the hall and went outside. After looking around carefully, he
slumped against the wall to think.

Why two gangs of them at the train station and the
bus depot but, apparently, only one person here at the airport? It
took a few minutes but Chris finally thought he had the solution.

He wasn't meant to be caught at either of the
other places. The gang had let themselves be seen on purpose to scare
him off, to herd him here to the airport. Once he arrived and saw
that the place was free of watchers, they expected him to rush over
and buy a ticket. And then they would have him.

Chris shook his head ruefully. It had almost
worked, he thought. If he hadn't stopped for a minute to talk to that
old guard, it could have been all over. Taking a deep breath, Chris
thought about his remaining options.

It was past eight o'clock now. He certainly
couldn't walk to Ottawa and even though he had money, no one was
going to rent a car to a thirteen year old kid. Chris left the
airport parking lot and walked to a bus stop several kilometers away.
Then he caught a bus heading back downtown. He found a small dingy
restaurant and grabbed a burger, all the while trying to decide what
to do.

How do you get out of a city without
transportation? And was it even worth bothering trying to meet this
judge guy anyway? Maybe his best bet was to lay low for a few days,
wait for Talon to relax their guard and grab a train or bus heading
west. He'd never seen the Rockies before and had always wanted to.
Maybe Vancouver? He had heard it was a nice place, good weather,
maybe big enough to get lost in.

As he finished a second cup of coffee, Chris
glanced at the clock over the door to the kitchen area. Eleven. He
sat back with a sigh. The time was passing rapidly and his head felt
like it was full of fuzz. He couldn't think of a solution. His sense
of urgency was fading as he began to feel that the whole thing was
hopeless. What am I going to do?

He stared out of the window. A few people were
still passing by, probably on their way home to their families.
Living safe, uncomplicated lives. They didn't know about and probably
wouldn't care about some kid whose life was hanging by a thread.

For a moment, Chris gave in to despair. What did I
do to deserve this? Help some street guy? Lose my parents? None of
this is my fault! He felt crushed by the unfairness of it all.

But after a few minutes, he sat up and tried to
clear his head of doubts. His father had told him more that once that
life truly wasn't fair. But you made the best of it, come what may.
Chris grimaced. His dad was a man of faith, even if he had been
agnostic. Trust in God, he'd say. Then Chris smiled. He could almost
hear Mom's whisper, after Dad had had his say. She'd wink and say
quietly 'And always trust in yourself, Chris'.

Chris left some money on the table, stood up,
nodded to the waitress and left the restaurant. He took a deep
breath. Okay, folks. Time to trust in both, I guess.

He watched the cars passing by. And then it hit
him; the solution. He pulled back into the doorway of the restaurant
and counted his money. Better find a bank machine, just in case, he
thought. And he set off down the street, keeping a eye out as he
went.

* * *

A group of tourists milled around the fountain
directly in front of the Peace Tower. One of them would occasionally
glance at the well dressed man loitering near the edge of the pool,
staring into the flame that danced in the middle of the gushing
water.

Judge Hawkes glanced up at the clock on the Peace
Tower. The large hands indicated that it was thirteen minutes past
five o’clock. He sighed and glanced once again at the eternal
flame floating almost magically above the water. The seconds ticked
away and suddenly the bells in the tower chimed once to mark the
quarter of the hour.

The judge turned away slowly from the fountain
toward the street. “Ah well...” he muttered.

As he began to walk, a shout rang out through the
crowd of tourists and the man spun quickly to his left. A boy was
running toward him, leather jacket hanging off of his arms. He
stopped in front of the judge and bent over with his hands on his
knees, gasping for breath.

Chris took a moment to catch his breath then
looked up at the judge, who was smiling in seeming delight. “I...I
made it,” Chris panted. The judge's smile widened.

“Indeed you did, Christopher. And in the
nick of time too, Well done, young man, well done!”

The judge stepped back to the fountain and sat
down on its edge. He motioned for Chris to do the same. “Catch
your breath, Christopher. We'll talk in a moment.”

Chris sat down gratefully and wiped the sweat from
his eyes with his sleeve. He breathed deeply for a few moments, took
off his jacket to cool down and took the opportunity to look around
at Parliament Hill.

There were dozens of people coming and going,
taking pictures of the tower and the fountain. Hardly anyone glanced
at the two of them sitting there, even though the sight of a man like
the judge, who was wearing an impeccable suit, sitting on the side of
a fountain with a sweaty kid in jeans and t-shirt must have seemed a
bit odd.