The Arx (33 page)

“Do you want me to do that?” Rebecca said. He scowled at her, but made no move to get the cigarettes. He hung his head and didn’t move for several seconds. Finally he looked up. “Maybe we better just continue where we left off.”

“What?”

Frank's hands hardened into fists. He stared up at her.

“With Mastico?” she said.

“If it’ll help, I’ve got to.”

“You sure?” She put a hand on his shoulder.

He nodded resignedly. She pulled a chair over and sat across from him.

“I’d like to try something,” she said. “I’ll count from one to one hundred. As I count, I want you to think back on what happened – starting from where we left off last time. You can describe it to me, or not, whichever feels most comfortable.

“By the time I get to fifty, you’ll be re-living the worst part of it. By one hundred, it’ll all be over and you’ll be relaxed. Does that sound okay?”

Frank nodded.

“You got knocked on the head,” she said. “You woke up. Mastico stepped out and started walking towards you. You went for your gun.”

Frank stared at a spot on the wall behind her.

“But it wasn’t just you there, was it,” she said.

He shuddered.

“There was someone else,” she said.

Frank shut his eyes tight. His body contorted like it was being tugged by invisible cords.

“One,” Rebecca said.

Frank waited a few seconds, trembling and breathing heavily.

“Two.”

His clenched fists vibrated on the arms of his chair.

“He said I was crazy to even think about going,” he finally began, “but I had no choice – a woman’s life was at stake.”

“Three,” Rebecca said.

“We argued for more than half an hour. He insisted I wear a wire. He’d stay in the squad car a few blocks away and call for backup if I got into trouble. I should’ve said no. I wanted him to see what a hero I was."

“Who?” Rebecca said.

Frank's face tightened. Beads of sweat rose on his forehead. He scanned around him, his eyes wild, reliving a moment of horror. He gulped as if he was about to be sick.

“What’s happening, Frank?” she said.

"I’m in the alley. There’s the stench of rotting garbage. It’s dark, but I can see Mastico walking towards me in the shadows. There’s a finger of light across his face. He’s smiling.”

Rebecca continued counting.

“We’re going to play the crazy game,” Frank shook as he imitated Mastico’s sing-song voice. “I’ve got a present for you.”

“Twenty-three.”

“I try to grab for my gun,” Frank’s eyes widened, “but I freeze. I’m terrified. I see the full moon – a blood-red moon – reflected in the water.”

“The moon?” Rebecca said. “Are you sure?”

“Thirty-five,” she continued. “Who came with you, Frank?”

“Mastico’s swinging something in his right hand,” Frank said. “Something big. He tosses it right at my chest. I catch it – it’s instinctive, like a reflex reaction.”

“Forty,” Rebecca said.

Frank jumped up and kicked back his chair. It crashed to the floor behind him. His body bent back like he was being swept up in a raging tornado. Rebecca stood and stepped away. Frank straightened. His gaze traveled down his chest. His eyes came to rest on a non-existent object between his outstretched hands.

“Forty-three,” Rebecca said.

“It’s hairy and slimy,” Frank said, his voice trembling, hands shaking. “I drop it on the ground.”

He pulled his hands apart. His eyes bulged from his head as he watched the horrifying object fall.

“I still can’t see what it is. It rolls into the light.”

His gaze followed the invisible object rolling away from him. He stared at the floor, his face twisted into a mask of horror. “It’s not the moon…”

“What?” Rebecca gasped. She stopped counting. “Maybe that’s enough, Frank.”

“His eyes are staring at me,” Frank said, his lower lip trembling.

“Who?”

“He’s smiling, almost like he didn’t mind his head being separated from his body.”

“Oh God – who, Frank!”

“Randall,” Frank whispered. “It’s my partner, Jeff Randall.”

He started to shake. His hands were frozen like claws in front of him. “There’s ragged edges of red meat and gristle around the cut that severed his neck,” Frank’s face twisted and his voice broke, “and a white tip of bone that had been the top of his spine.”

Rebecca recoiled in horror. She willed herself to stay calm. “Frank, it’s time to snap out of it.”

“Mastico keeps coming,” Frank said, looking up. “The lenses of his glasses glow in the light, like he’s got x-ray eyes. I try again for the gun. My hand’s slippery with Randall’s blood. I almost drop it.”

Rebecca fought back tears. “Frank, that’s enough for now.”

“Stop or I’ll shoot,” Frank shouted, lifting a shaking right hand like he was holding a gun.

Rebecca moved forward, but she didn’t dare touch him.

“That’s what I’m counting on,” Frank’s voice altered, becoming Mastico’s chilling sing-song.

Frank’s body shook violently as he fought to squeeze the invisible trigger. He wrapped both hands around the non-existent gun, raised his arms straight in front of him, and pretended to fire.

“Please Frank!” Rebecca said. She could do nothing but watch.

“I’m dying! I’m dying!” Frank screamed in Mastico’s voice, choking with laughter. “You’re killing me!”

Frank pumped six or seven shots into his invisible enemy. His body kicked back with each shot. Drenched in sweat, screaming and shaking, he moved forward and pumped three more shots into the ground at his feet. Finally, he collapsed on the floor.

***

When Frank woke he was lying with his head cradled in Rebecca’s arms. He looked up at her. She was crying.

“Oh my God, Frank,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

They lay like that for several minutes, her arms wrapped around him, his head on her breast, his panicked breath gradually subsiding.

That night Frank and Rebecca lay in bed in each other’s arms. He stole a glance at her, her hair cascading over the pillow, her gray eyes dreamy, lost in the afterglow of lovemaking. Something felt different. A switch had flipped in his brain, channeling an emotion he hadn’t felt in more than a year. It had been so long that at first he didn’t quite recognize what he was feeling.

Finally it came to him. It was hope. For the first time since the experience with Mastico he could see a way out of his waking nightmare.

Where only days ago he’d felt like his life was over, suddenly he dared to dream that it might be just beginning. A part of him still believed he didn’t deserve her. Maybe that was true, he thought, but for now he was just going to accept the treasure he’d been granted and hope he could hold onto it a while longer.

“That Lohengrin guy, from the opera,” he said to her. “You said the princess had to promise never to ask him about his past.”

She rolled onto one elbow. “What brought this on?”

“Just thinking.”

“Well, yes, that’s right,” she said.

“Let me guess,” Frank smiled. “She ended up asking him, didn’t she.”

“Yep.”

“Just couldn’t leave it alone.”

“That’s right.”

“So what happened?”

“When she finally asked him?”

Frank nodded.

Her face went dark. “It’s very sad. He disappeared and she never saw him again.”

Frank was silent.

“That’s not going to happen with us, is it?” she said.

“Well… I don’t know…” Frank said, joking.

He looked into her eyes. He was surprised to find something like fear behind them.

“No, that’s not going to happen with us,” he said, wrapping an arm around her. “I’m not going anywhere – unless you want me to.”

“Right now, I want you to stay with me forever,” she said sleepily, and nuzzled his chest.

Back Into the Fire

The wind blew through Frank’s hair as he leaned on the railing of the Queen of Nanaimo steaming back to Vancouver. Dozens of gulls circled the ship’s wake, gliding in the updrafts generated by its motion. The ferry sailed past rocky islands blanketed with green and the touches of gold marking the coming fall.

The events of the past few weeks had occupied his mind to such an extent that he hadn’t had time to think about his life, his condition, where he was going, or even where he was. He patted his shirt pocket for his cigarettes, and remembered he’d run out. Normally a wave of panic would have overwhelmed him and he would have run down to the shop for more. Today, right now, he realized he didn’t really care.

He breathed the sea air deep into his lungs and for a moment relaxed. The late summer wind on the water had an edge of biting cold. That was good. He was alive; the wind was being kind enough to remind him. For this brief moment at least, he felt like the Frank Langer of old, the confident Frank Langer, the Frank Langer who knew what to do in any situation and never questioned his own judgment, the Frank Langer who maybe deserved some kind of respect and happiness.

Then there was his new relationship with Rebecca. His initial attraction had built steadily from the moment he first saw her. But after last night it had soared to a level he’d never experienced before. In what seemed like an instant she had been transformed from de-facto therapist, co-conspirator, and investigative partner to lover, and the most precious thing in his life. In fact, she had become his reason for living.

It was dangerous to leave her at the cabin. He’d caught a break going there the first time, but the Arx would track it down eventually. Problem was, there was really nowhere any safer, and he didn’t dare bring her along. After Carson’s revelations he realized how incredibly lucky he was to still be alive. His luck couldn’t hold out much longer.

The good news was that between his feet rested a suitcase full of information that could persuade his former colleagues that there was something worth investigating. He prayed that Reid and the others at the squad still had enough respect for him to take his claims seriously. The trick would be to get the information to them, and to stay alive long enough for them to follow it up.

The ferry docked at nine-thirty AM. Frank caught a bus into town and made the short walk from the Central Bus Terminal to a Starbucks located under the
Science World
Skytrain station. Every few minutes the ceiling vibrated and hummed as a train raced overhead. He sat in the farthest, darkest corner, considering his action plan.

A packet containing one of Carson’s flash drives, some crucial pages of information Frank had copies of, and a note for the police, lay on the table in front of him. He thought about how to deliver it. He didn’t dare go himself. The Arx had pulled out all the stops to get him released in the first place. Now that he’d managed to escape, they might well find a way to rescind that decision in the hope that the police would recapture him. Not to mention that he’d kidnapped Rebecca at gunpoint from Kits Beach.

Whatever his priority was for the cops, it would certainly be at the highest level for the Arx. They’d be watching the police stations, especially the Homicide Squad, which was, in fact, his target. He didn’t want to use any form of contact that left a paper trail, like a courier service or even a taxi driver.

He was deep in thought when he heard a shout outside the window. He looked up. A kid on a bicycle was arguing with a guy in a car. It looked like the car had cut the cyclist off, and the kid had nearly bashed into him when he stopped at the light. The kid was in the process of flipping the driver the finger.

Frank studied the cyclist. He had legs like tree trunks, those of somebody that rides a lot, and a large sack slung over his back.

A bike courier,
Frank thought.

He jumped up and ran out the door, lugging his suitcase and packet. The courier was about to take off at the changing light.

“Wait!” Frank yelled after him. The kid spotted him, and jumped his bike up on the sidewalk.

Frank rushed over. “You’re a courier, right?”

The kid stared at him like he had a screw loose. Finally he nodded.

“How much for an under-the-table delivery?”

“Can’t do that,” the kid said. “I’d get fired.”

“How much?” Frank repeated.

The kid glanced around, then looked Frank up and down. Finally he said: “Fifty, up front.”

“Okay,” Frank said. “I gotta go to the bank first.”

“Five minutes,” the kid said. “Five minutes and I’m outta here.”

Frank ran to a nearby convenience store with an ATM, sunglasses on and hat pulled down for the inevitable camera. He withdrew two hundred and ran back. The kid was still there.

“I’m a cop,” Frank said, “and I’ve got your license number.” The kid rolled his eyes and jumped on the bike to take off.