Chapter Eight

Charlie returned to his desk and got to work on Declan's laptop. When he was working on a computer, he felt in control. Two hours, and a few of Gwen's pains au chocolat later, Charlie finished with the computer. He was about to return it when the outer door opened. A man entered. He was short, had slicked-back hair, a greasy moustache and a face only a boxer's mother could love. He stood with his hands in his pockets, his eyes scanning the room.

"May I help you…sir?" Charlie enquired.

"I was told to come here and pick up a computer and the contents of a box that was delivered this morning. When you give me that, I'll give you the location of the target," he said.

A momentary rush of fear passed through Charlie's body, then he reminded himself that it was broad daylight outside, and this wasn't a movie. No one was going to take a machine gun from under their trench coat and fill him full of lead.

"If you would care to take a seat, I'll get Mr Hunt for you. In the meantime, would you care for a coffee or a pastry? I can promise they'll change your life."

A few moments later, Charlie knocked on Declan's door before inching it open. Declan was busy reading a thick dossier, and photographs covered the surface of his desk.

"Hi?" the detective said, turning the two-letter word into a paragraph.

Charlie squeezed himself through the partly opened door, then closed it behind him. "Uh, sorry to disturb you," Charlie said in a hushed tone, "but there's a rather rough-looking man out there asking to retrieve the computer and the package we received this morning. He said something about having the location of the target… Whatever that means…"

Declan smiled. "Excellent. Follow me."

As he moved to the door, Declan grabbed Mr Attwal's laptop. "And get the box out of the freezer."

* * * *

Declan stepped into the reception room and saw one of Calgary's toughest enforcers seated in the waiting room with a small cup of espresso and a plate of Gwen's pastries. As instructed, Charlie retrieved the box from the office freezer.

"Sir," Declan said, with a confused smile. "I see that my assistant has made you comfortable."

"You were right. These are great," the enforcer said, waving the pastry around.

"Oh, if you like, you can pick up more from the shop downstairs when you're done here," Charlie said, helpfully.

"My wife'll love 'em. She'll kill me for bringin' 'em into the house, but they won't last a second once she tries one."

Declan got things back on track. "I believe this is what you came for," he said, handing him the machine. "This is the laptop containing only the files you're interested in with Mr Attwal's other client files removed."

"Good. Now, give me the finger," the enforcer replied.

Declan indicated Charlie should hand the box over to the man, who opened it to check the contents.

"This is only the ear. Where's the finger?"

Declan smiled. "Oh, you just have to shake it around. It likes to hide."

The enforcer shook the box, and the finger bounced out from underneath the ear and onto the floor. Charlie gasped so loud that it startled the other two men.

The enforcer picked the finger up. "Wouldn't want that falling into the wrong hands, now would we?" he said. "Wrong hands. Get it? Finger… Hand?"

Charlie grimaced.

"So," Declan continued, "my man here said that you had some information for me."

"Yeah. You can pick up the body at Abel's Wrecking Yard. You know the place?" he said, all the while tossing the finger into the air and catching it.

"I know the place," Declan replied.

"It'll be in the trunk of a red 1970 Dodge Challenger, midway back in the lot."

"Will it still be alive?" Declan calmly enquired.

"Depends on how long you keep me here talking."

"We'd better go, then. Dead bodies don't pay their bills," Declan said.

The man left, but before closing the door, he said, "Thanks for the tip on the pastries. I'm gonna pick up a box."

The door closed and Charlie sat down before his knees gave way. "That man was playing with a human finger! He was just tossing it like he was flipping a coin."

"He was just trying to scare you," Declan said.

"He succeeded!" Charlie's voice was reaching a near-hysterical pitch.

Declan knelt down, took him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. "Charlie, you're all right. He wasn't going to hurt you. I wouldn't let anything happen to you. Do you understand? This is part of what I do here. What we do here." He felt Charlie's breathing start to slow down. "You're gonna be okay now."

Charlie nodded his head.

"Good. Now, we have a very important job ahead of us. We have to save a man's life."

"Okay," Charlie said weakly.

"You wouldn't happen to have a car downstairs?"

"Yes."

"Good. We'll have to use yours. Mine's parked at Bar-None."

He rushed Charlie to the door and down the stairs. They exited onto the street and Declan asked, "Which way?"

Charlie quickly walked down a side street and led Declan to a small, light-blue, four-door hatchback.

Declan stared at it. "This isn't a car. It's a Chevette!"

"I'll have you know this car was one of the first four-door models of its kind. It's a classic!"

"Okay, let's see if this dodo can fly." He ran around to the passenger door and waited for Charlie to reach over and manually unlock it.

According to the GPS on Declan's phone, it was a fifteen-minute drive from his office in Kensington to Abel's Wrecking Yard on Beaufort Road. He suspected that Charlie had been trained in defensive driving from an early age because it had been nearly twenty-eight minutes and they still hadn't arrived.

"I can understand why they sent the finger, but why the ear?" Charlie asked. Focusing on driving had apparently calmed Charlie's nerves.

"Maybe it was a warning that they have ears everywhere and that we should keep our mouths shut."

"Good to know."

They pulled into the wrecking yard and Charlie followed Declan as he ran into the office. "I'm Declan Hunt. I'm here about a car."

The old man behind the counter answered, "Yeah, I was told you were comin'. Interested in the bright-red Dodge Challenger, I hear. Good car. Couldn't believe someone'd wanna t' scrap ‘er. People nowadays, right? Livin' in a disposable world. Not willin' to—"

"I'd love to see it," Declan interjected.

"Pulled it out into the drive, jus' so you could have a look at ‘er. Jus' head straight down the main road, first left. Ya can't miss ‘er. Left the keys in the ignition."

Declan raced out the door, and down the drive, yelling back to Charlie to bring his car.

The Challenger was just where the old man had said. Declan opened the driver's door. The detective pulled the keys out of the ignition and ran back to the trunk. He calmly slid the key into the lock, and turned it. The trunk lid opened. Inside lay the body of the accountant Palvinder Attwal.

Charlie pulled up, got out of his car and cautiously approached the Challenger.

The man lay on his right side. He was trussed up so tightly Declan was surprised he could breathe—if he was still breathing. To make things worse, he was gagged and blindfolded. His head was still partially bound in a turban which had staunched the bleeding from the severing of his left ear. His left hand was a ball of blood-soaked rags.

"You'll be all right now, Mr Attwal," Charlie said in a loud voice.

Declan pulled a small knife out of his pocket, and cut the man's restraints, starting with the gag. He was relieved to hear the body suck in air.

"Charlie," Declan said calmly, "I want you to help me lift Mr Attwal out of the trunk."

They extracted the rotund little man from the trunk and helped him into the back seat of Charlie's car. It was at this point that Charlie turned his back on the two and vomited beside the Challenger.

Declan threw him a sympathetic glance then ran back to the office.

"Okay—this is what you're going to do," he said to the man behind the counter. "You're going to call nine-one-one and ask for police and an ambulance. Tell them you have an injured man. You'll stay here until they arrive, then direct them to us. You'll tell the police that you were showing us the car when all of a sudden you heard a noise coming from the trunk."

He could see the old man processing this step by step. Declan had dealt with guys like this before. They knew when it was important to play dumb.

"When they ask, and not before, you'll tell them the car was dropped off early this morning by a guy. He said it was his dad's car. The father gave up driving and didn't want it around anymore. You don't remember much about the guy. He was middle-aged and white. He went home to get the registration papers, but hasn't come back yet. Do you understand?"

The old man just nodded.

"Good. Now make the call."

Declan ran back to the car. He saw Charlie crouching down beside Mr Attwal, talking softly to him. He was giving the injured man small sips of water from a bottle he held in his hand.

"Not too much, Mr Attwal."

After all that, he remembered his name.

Charlie went to the front door and got a cloth out of the glove compartment. He dampened it with the water. "Just lean your head back a bit if you can. I'm going to put a damp cloth on your forehead. It'll help to cool you down a bit."

He's stayed calm through this whole thing.

Declan crouched down. "Mr Attwal—the ambulance and police will be here soon. They'll take care of you," Declan said in a calm voice.

Mr Attwal nodded. "When the police arrive, we must make sure they don't find out the truth. I must protect my family."

"Agreed. We'll make this as simple as possible for the cops and for you. This'll be your story. You were walking home from work. The only thing you remember was that a light-coloured van pulled up beside you and a couple of men wearing masks jumped out and dragged you into the van. They put a hood over your face, but said nothing."

"That's just what happened," Mr Attwal said.

"Good. Then you won't have to lie. From that point on we'll have to be a little more creative. They kept asking you for documents. You had no idea what they meant. They kept calling you… Mr Singh. You told them your name was Palvinder Attwal. They didn't believe you. Do you understand, Mr Attwal?"

"Yes. They called me Mr Singh."

"Good. They kidnapped the wrong guy, but wouldn't believe you. Do you still have your wallet on you?"

"No. They took it."

"In our story, it must have fallen out of your pocket when they grabbed you. Look…I know this is a lot to remember."

"No. I've got it."

"Good. After doing all of these horrible things to you, they got a phone call that you overheard. You heard enough to understand that they had grabbed the wrong guy. One of them said they knew a place where they could dump you and let nature take its course. They threw you in the trunk and the next thing you knew, we were pulling you out."

Throughout this entire exchange, Charlie knelt on the ground, staring at the detective, his mouth slightly open.

"Yes," Mr Attwal said, nodding. "I see where you're going with this."

Declan could make out the sound of a siren in the distance. "It won't be long now, Mr Attwal. And you," Declan said to Charlie, "follow my lead. Offer nothing to the police unless you've heard me say it first."

"Okay," Charlie replied in a quiet voice.

Declan put his hand on Charlie's shoulder. "You're doing beautifully. Just keep listening."

The paramedics arrived as the police stepped out of their cruiser.

"Oh, shit," Declan muttered.

"What?" Charlie asked.

"It's McKeckran." Declan said.

"What the fuck!" the older of the two police officers said. "Why am I not surprised to find you involved in whatever the hell this is?"

Declan smiled. "Just dumb luck, I guess."

"Well, what's your story?"

Declan related the facts, as he'd created them.

"So, just to get this straight, Hunt, you came here to find a car for your boyfriend—" He pointed to Charlie.

"Assistant," Declan corrected.

McKeckran leered. "Sure…your assistant. And in the process you just happened to find a body in the trunk. Pretty big coincidence."

Declan said, "My vehicle's out of commission at the moment and his Pinto isn't always reliable."

McKeckran turned away and headed back to his young partner as the paramedics loaded Mr Attwal into the ambulance. The police conversed for a few moments then looked back at Declan and Charlie. McKeckran laughed.

"We'll be in touch," the older cop called to them, then turned and headed back to his cruiser, adding a sibilant "ladies."

Charlie tensed. Declan gripped his upper arm. "Don't," was all he said.

They waited until the ambulance had driven away.

"Who was that asshole?" Charlie demanded.

"One of the reasons I got out of the force," he said, still looking in the direction that the cruiser had headed. "He's an old friend of my father's. Let's get back to the office."

"Are you sure you want to be seen in my Pinto?"

"Ah, I just said that for McKeckran's sake. So, you got a name for your car?"

"Wha—? No!"

Declan stared at him.

"Francine," Charlie admitted. "Shut up."

Declan grinned. "I said nothing."

* * * *

Constable Luke Fraser turned to Sergeant Gerry McKeckran as the Chevette passed by and said, "You know that guy?"

"Hunt?" Sergeant McKeckran snorted. "Oh, I know him. He's Sam Hunt's kid."

"Declan Hunt?"

"Yeah. The guy was canned from the force for being a fag."

"I didn't think you could do that," said Fraser, shooting McKeckran a quick sideways glance.

"There's a lot of things you can't do legally, but there are ways around everything," he replied, then laughed.

"Yeah. I guess so."

Fraser had only been on the force for six months but, in that short time, he'd learned many things. The most important thing he'd learned was to keep his personal life hidden. That was why he had said nothing when Declan Hunt, a man he recognised as the stranger he'd shared a brief dance with outside of The Greek, drove away from the wrecking yard.

* * * *

It was late in the afternoon when Declan and Charlie got back to the agency.

"My office," Declan demanded as he took the lead. Charlie was sure he'd said or done something wrong.

"Your car keys," Declan said, holding out his hand. Charlie surrendered them. Declan dropped the keys into a dish on his desk. Then he went to a cupboard, pulled out a bottle and two glasses and poured them each a healthy serving of Scotch. He handed one to Charlie.

"You can take an Uber home tonight and back here tomorrow, then you can retrieve your keys. I'll reimburse you in the morning."

"Sure."

Charlie looked at Declan across the desk—his dark wavy hair, the drop-dead-sexy scruff on his face, those piercing blue eyes and the way they bore right into him. Oh my God, he's staring right at me. We're staring at each other!

Declan took another sip of his drink. Charlie did the same, but his was more of a gulp than a sip. He choked.

"Easy, there. You don't have to kill it. Make friends with it," Declan said to him, with a slightly crooked smile that made him even more attractive.

"So…your first day at work…" Declan started.

"Yeah…"

"You did an excellent job."

"Oh," Charlie said, surprised. "Thanks."

"No one would have picked you out for a computer guy with no field experience. Congratulations," Declan said, raising his glass.

"Thank you. It was, uh, not what I expected. Is that usually what you do?"

Declan laughed. "Nah. Sometimes things get really crazy. Actually, you've experienced more in your first day than I normally would in a month."

Charlie could feel the Scotch rounding off his rough edges. "So that older cop…" Charlie started, then paused, staring into his glass. "He knew you."

"Yeah."

"He seemed to be a…"

"Total prick?" Declan offered.

Charlie smiled. "Yeah. That's about right."

"McKeckran's always been like that," Declan said. "Always trying to prove what a man he is."

Charlie scowled. "Think he's trying to hide something?"

"Wouldn't be the first guy to cover up who he really is."

They both sipped their drinks before Charlie asked, "So, you used to be a cop?"

"Yeah, but that's not a story for today. I'm not drunk enough for that walk down memory lane."

"Sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"No. Not a problem. Just not right now." Declan knocked back his drink. "I think I'm gonna go take a nap. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Good idea." Charlie finished his drink. "So, uh…I guess I still have a job?"

"Yeah. You still have a job. Take the rest of the day off." He tossed Charlie the office keys. "Don't forget to lock up when you leave, okay?"

"Sure thing."

Declan opened the door to the stairs leading up to his apartment, then turned to Charlie.

"I watched how you dealt with Mr Attwal. You kept him calm, even though I knew, deep-down, you were scared shitless. That was great work. I think you've got what it takes."

"See you tomorrow." Charlie said. "And don't worry—I'll call an Uber."

Charlie enjoyed the ride home. He was exhausted from the day, and the Scotch was warming him like a hug from the inside. He stared out the window, and thought about his new boss…thoughts he probably shouldn't be having. But seeing Declan in action had made him even sexier.

This job was going to be a lot more interesting than he'd ever thought it could be.