CHAPTER 15
Saturday 23:25 Val David, Quebec, Canada
The large, three-story wooden building on the edge of the small lake loomed like an eerie monster under the moonlit sky. Nathaniel had never seen Hotel La Sapiniere basked in such complete darkness. Each naked window pane was shrouded in its own black veil of mystic silence. The total cumulative effect was permanent and it resonated deep in his chest. The once vibrant star of Canadian cuisine and hotelier nestled in the Laurentian Mountains north of Montreal was now a beast that was most certainly dead.
“It’s a damn shame,” Nathaniel mumbled.
He’d become accustomed to his many trips up to Hotel La Sapiniere over the years. His very first ski trip to the small town known as Val David had changed the entire course of his life. It never really was a ski trip, but that’s what he had told his friends at the time, and years later, he would tell his young wife, Diane, the very same thing. It was the rare opportunity to be accepted into the eclectic group known only as the Order, a highly secretive group created for the sole purpose of correcting miscarriages of justice. The concept was simple, right the wrongs committed against the common people when the courts and justice system fail to do so. He was young back then; most, like Nathaniel, were only in their mid-twenties, while other more influential members had children older than him. It was an exciting time—full of mystery and purpose.
The exclusive annual ceremony always culminated with a grand dinner prepared by Canada’s very own world-renowned chef, Marcel Kretz, head chef at Hotel La Sapiniere. Marcel himself was a mystery to Nathaniel. He was never seen, never heard from on most visits, but his presence was always undeniable in the background as his wait staff served the Order the finest of meals to be found anywhere on the continent—from coast to coast. In 1998, Marcel was inducted into the Order of Canada for his culinary skills, the only Canadian chef to ever receive such an honour.
Being a member of the Order of Canada was one thing, but the privilege of being asked to be part of the Order was an honour of another dimension. The group was small, discreet, and selected from a most carefully cultivated pool of candidates. Senior members came from many places, some wearing the honour of the Order of Canada and others working as Senators like Leboeuf and himself. Still others were successful entrepreneurs, doctors, professors, lawyers, and even one well-known artist. Each had something to offer: great influence, enormous power, intellect, or wealth. But nothing was more evident than the duty each felt to participate in making the country a better community for all citizens. Nathaniel often wondered if Marcel himself had been a member of the Order, but he knew better than to ask such a question.
A small shimmer of yellow light refracted out from one of the side windows, stretched across the wild, overgrown lawn, and splashed onto the crumbling pavement of the parking lot. The premises was caught tragically in an unnatural state since his last visit. It was unkempt and in disrepair. He drove past and over the golden splash of glowing light and parked his SUV next to the other four vehicles. The small glow ignited a fire in his belly. There was a strange comfort in the tension that was bound to be present in tonight’s meeting, and as tired as he was from travelling all day, the burn inside was enough to grant him the focus he knew he’d require to get down to business. He entered through the delivery entrance near the kitchen.
Nathaniel paused as he passed the double doors to the large kitchen. He thought of Marcel Kretz again. The fate of the Hotel La Sapiniere was doomed the day Marcel handed in his resignation to recede quietly away into retirement so many years ago. He knew Marcel had vigorously trained the chefs that would follow after him with a stern yet silky mannerism, but few could master, even after years of practice, what Marcel came by naturally with instinct and his exceptional palate. The quality of the food became inconsistent, even subpar at times. Chefs would come and go; some stayed and learned from Marcel, but the best always moved on to spread their wings to other cities across Canada. Over the past few decades, the clientele waned, but the Order still came for its annual meetings as it always had—year after year. Now, the darkened kitchen almost made him weep as his memories of this grand retreat were about to become a closed book. Tonight was its final chapter for Nathaniel. He would definitely miss this place.
Short chuckles and quiet laughter echoed against the barren walls and bounced down the hall towards him. He moved quickly down the short passage. The chuckling stopped and all eyes turned towards him as he entered the dimly-lit room. Nearly all the furniture and decorations had been removed. Shadows bounced and danced perversely along the stark wood panelling from the four candles on the bar—the only source of light. Three of the five stools along the bar were occupied. Five short glasses and one large bottle of fine Canadian whiskey rested on the bar. Four of the glasses were partially full. Senator Leboeuf’s hand was wrapped around one glass as he leaned against the bar at the far end. He whisked it quickly in the air and toasted Nathaniel’s arrival.
“Nate!” Leboeuf’s smile was wide and he straightened his posture with his glass raised. “You made good time.”
“Not so bad,” he replied and glanced down at his watch. It was 11:25. He had planned on arriving more than a half hour ago, but traffic was much heavier than he expected it to be at this time of night.
The other three elderly gentlemen followed Leboeuf’s lead to greet Nathaniel. He knew only two of them, and the customary handshakes and salutations were quickly exchanged.
“Well, you have certainly got us all worked up tonight.” Leboeuf was not smiling. “Our anticipation borderlines on deadly here, Nate.” His voice was austere and frosty.
He nodded. “I can imagine.”
Leboeuf stretched out one arm as he motioned Nathaniel to one of the empty stools. His eyes appeared resolute and showed the seriousness of tonight’s business. “Come, sit,” he said. “It is time to divulge to the others the reason we are all gathered here tonight.”
Nathaniel raised his eyebrows, eyed the other three members present, and turned to Leboeuf. “You haven’t told them why we’re here?”
Leboeuf’s steely expression finally broke and he slipped in a small smile. “They know enough…”—He acknowledged his comrades with a quick glance—“…or they wouldn’t be here. Remember, I am just the facilitator of tonight’s meeting.”
Nathaniel Diamond shuffled himself onto the uncomfortable stool, removed his cowboy hat, and gazed again at the three men opposite him across the wooden bar: Geordie Hammersmith, Lucas Peltier, and Jack Duck. In the decades he spent as a member, he had never formally sat down with any of these gentlemen before tonight. All were senior members of the Order.
Geordie Hammersmith was, as far as Nathaniel knew, the highest ranking member of the Order. He was a frail-looking man who barely weighed in at over one hundred pounds, but it was easy to see that his diminutive size meant nothing in terms of his worth. His gaze was fierce, and it was hard for Nathaniel to not clearly avoid meeting his gaze. It was awkwardly uncomfortable—not what he had unexpected from a man approaching ninety years of age.
Lucas Peltier was different: robust in size and very average looking with small beady eyes and button nose. His silver grey hair was thin and seemed to wrap around the top of his skull in broad wide circles—oddly resembling the cartoon character Charlie Brown. Lucas was approaching seventy years old, but there was a softness to his face that made him appear much younger.
Jack Duck, in his mid-sixties, was widely known in the art world for his incredible wildlife oil paintings. Renowned as one of the finest nature artists in Canada for the past few decades, he was well known by all members. His art was often compared to those of Robert Bateman, but that was where the similarities ended; Jack was nowhere near as prolific, accurate, or detailed in his work. Nathaniel owned one of Jack’s numbered prints—the original canvas was far out of his price range. To see Jack Duck here today to discuss the issue at hand was an unexpected surprise.
Nathaniel would never be privy t
o all members of the Order, nor would he know each member’s true role within the organization. It was understood that the Order worked better this way. It kept Nathaniel focused; every minute of every day his toes needed to be pointed in the right direction because the Order had its eyes everywhere. Accepting into such scrutiny was natural for Nathaniel. His early years in government were spent voting and arguing for what he thought was right, but there were many times when his hand was forced by other politicians to bow down and conform or risk being ostracized. At least with the Order there was no conforming or politicking; right was right and wrong was wrong.
Nathaniel pushed the empty glass in front of him towards Senator Leboeuf. “I guess it’s best we get to it.”
Leboeuf topped up Nathaniel’s glass.
“A toast first, Senator,” Nathaniel said. “To this great country of ours.” He raised his glass high into the air.
The toast was his way of binding the group before he revealed the mess he felt partially responsible for.
“To Canada,” Jack Duck replied with a smile.
“Aye,” Geordie said. His expression remained stoic through his response.
“Yes, Senator Diamond.” Lucas Peltier spoke softly. “To Canada: a responsibility we all hold very dear.”
Francois Leboeuf only nodded. He had facilitated this meet at Nathaniel’s request, and it became immediately clear that he was prepared to stand quietly in the background.
All five raised and clinked glasses before sipping back the whiskey that offered a warm respite to the reason for tonight’s meet.
Nathaniel understood that it was his responsibility to lay it out. He was the one who stood up and proselytized for Kaito Hui’s admittance. With such a strong endorsement, he felt that a very generous portion of his reputation was now on the line if the current situation suddenly snowballed out of control.
“Kaito Hui got away on us this past week,” he said. He studied his audience for a few seconds, reading them carefully, before uttering his next words. “He did not follow protocol, and now he’s left us potentially exposed.”
Jack lifted his left eyebrow and shuffled in his seat. Geordie returned a cold, undiscerning stare and appeared annoyed.
“As I am sure you recall last time we were here at our annual meeting, Kaito was given two targets to oversee: 471 and 442. I have the abstract on each subject if you need.”
Lucas and Geordie both shook their heads.
“I reviewed them again this afternoon on the way out,” Jack replied.
Nathaniel nodded and continued. “Kaito has done something we never do. He has merged the taking of two targets together.”
“Joined them together?” Lucas Peltier responded.
“Yes. He’s combined two targets together—using the same operatives and overlapping the hits.”
“The fool,” Jack uttered with disgust. He shook his head. “How bad is it?”
Nathaniel stood up from his stool.
“The operations were underway yesterday afternoon. I expect both are being taken care of tonight, possibly already completed by now, but I haven’t seen or heard the results. Might be tomorrow before we know for sure.” He tapped his pocket. The others knew he was referencing his cell phone from which he had the battery removed back in Montreal per protocol prior to heading to tonight’s meet.
“He’s taking these two men out together? That makes no bloody sense!” Jack said.
“I didn’t say he’s taking them out together. He’s just combined them somehow.”
“How has he combined them?”
Nathaniel shook his head. “I don’t know, exactly. He didn’t tell me the details.”
“I see,” Jack said crassly. He was perturbed. “So why the panic? Why get us all wound up like this if you have no concept of the extent of the damage right now? This sounds incredibly premature.” He shot quick glances at all those gathered and pointed at Nathaniel. “Maybe this all went down without any hiccups. I put aside some important meetings this afternoon to get my ass out here!’
Nathaniel downed the shot of whiskey if only to buy a few seconds of time before responding, and set his empty glass on the bar.
Francois Leboeuf lifted lift his hand and pushed it out at Jack to slow him down. “Give him a bloody chance, Jack. Nate wouldn’t rush us all away from our families and business meetings if was that simple.” He turned towards Nate. “Let’s hear the meat, Nate.”
“The meat,” Nathaniel repeated, and rubbed his hands together. His large frame jiggled. “I like that. The meat on this one is still fresh and still very much on the bone. And it is not from the most tender of cuts, either. Not only did Kaito mix two targets together, he added a third target of his own—one not from our list.”
Jack gasped. Lucas whispered, “Jesus,” under his breath and rubbed one hand through his hair. Both were clearly troubled by the news.
“Ahem.…” Geordie uttered from the far end of the bar. He had yet to say a word. He was always like this in such meetings. His quiet mannerisms were often attributed to his old age, making it easy to overlook the sharp, calculating mind that loomed behind the almost dead-looking eyes. When he spoke, the room quieted and everyone listened.
Every eye turned upon Geordie.
“Do you know who this new target is at least?” Geordie asked.
Nathaniel nodded. “He is number 399 on our watch list of potentials. Harvey Metcalf.”
Jack chuckled. He shook his head in disbelief.
“The lawyer, Harvey Metcalf?” Lucas asked.
“The one and only,” Francois said.
“C’mon guys. We all know who Harvey Metcalf is. That Supreme Court decision’s been headlining all the papers for the past two weeks,” Jack added.
“But he is not a target at this time. He’s only on the watch list.”
“The way he’s behaving, he should be on the target list,” Jack uttered.
“No!” Geordie interrupted loudly. He sprung from his stool, as best a man of his age was able, and stood to face the others. The meeting was starting to get off track, and nothing annoyed Geordie more than the wasting of his time on side issues and factless rumours. “Gentlemen, we do not consider anyone a target until they have been officially placed onto the target list. Ever! And you know it’s not simple to move anyone onto that list these days.” Geordie’s arms thrashed about as he spoke. “This is not the forum to offer such opinions and conjecture so frivolously. Let’s stay on track. Do not go off with innuendos and bullshit speculation.”
“If he keeps on fucking up our justice system, then he is well on his way to the target list. Do you know how many convictions may have to be overturned because of that ruling?”
“Damn you, Jack!” Geordie shouted. “We all know the repercussions of the Supreme Court decision.” He sat back onto his stool and followed with a heavy sigh. He nodded at Jack; he was in full agreement with Jack’s observation of Metcalf. “Granted, you are right to be upset. We all should be,” he said. “His actions lately are disturbing.” He slowly calmed down. “This week’s decision from the Supreme Court on the Garrod Shaw case is a huge potential blow to our justice system. Harvey Metcalf seems to be purposely litigating against what we all believe is best for Canada, but it is still premature to label him an opponent.”
“I’ll accept that,” Jack replied apologetically, “…for now.”
Geordie raised his hand in the air and swept it slowly out at the four men around him with his index finger extended. “Metcalf may have just exposed the true strength, or weakness if you will, of our constitution. There is no crime against such exposure.”
“Hence, target 471,” Nathaniel said.
“Exactly,” Geordie replied. “Target 471, Garrod Shaw. The very same Garrod Shaw that Metcalf defended and is named in this week’s ruling by the Supreme Court. And it still grates on me terribly.” He waved his hand in the air around him again to emphasize his point. “That ruling disallows law enforcement to use Sha
w’s confession of murdering his three little girls up at that lake in Alberta seven years ago in a new trial. You all know the first trial was left hung because there were no bodies and no solid evidence linking him to the murders of his children. It was only since that first trial was done and over with that Shaw confessed to the murders in an undercover police sting…murders everyone already suspected he committed.” His hand waved wildly in the air and then he chuckled. “He confessed where the bodies were to a ‘Mr. Big’ crime boss in that undercover operation. Told him precisely where they could be found, a location no one had checked and that had no evidence linked to it in any way. Now with the Supreme Court ruling that the method used to secure this confession was unconstitutional and illegal, there is no chance of a retrial, even though it was Shaw’s very own words in that confession that pointed exactly to where those children’s bodies were eventually recovered.”
“That crime was tragic,” Jack said. “Murdered his own children, and what was left of those poor kids after three years of being under that lake—it’s just awful.”
“It’s also believed that he sexually abused those children before murdering them, but that can never be confirmed.”
“It is a shame,” Lucas said.
Geordie stared at Lucas. “It is a shame,” he echoed seriously. “It is for these crimes, and others that followed since, that Mr. Shaw is one of tonight’s targets. Don’t any of you forget, Garrod Shaw was placed on the list over a year ago prior to this week’s ruling by the Supreme Court. This week’s ruling has nothing to do with his status on the target list, and it’s just coincidence that he is to be erased only days after getting his get-out-of-jail-free card.”
The room went quiet for a few minutes. Nathaniel wasn’t sure if they were quiet because they were thinking about the horrible murder of Shaw’s three children or because they all had some part, albeit small, in placing the targets on tonight’s menu.
The manner and timing in which a target was taken out was up to the member who was assigned the task. Once it was handed off, it was his or hers alone to work with the field team to decide how and when it was to be executed. Options were discussed, personal and private information, family history, medical history, friends, assets, interests, and everything else about the target was handed over. No one would ask, no one would follow up, and no one would question the manner in which the execution or correction occurred. The usual course from handoff to execution took many months, sometimes even a year or two, before it was completed. Plausible deniability was tantamount in all aspects of the Order, so the individual assigned held complete ownership. The only thing that mattered was the take-out was to appear natural or accidental, as if no outside intervention was connected to the cause of death.
“Shaw became a target nearly a year ago,” Geordie said, breaking the silence. “This latest ruling by the courts only adds credence to his selection. You all witnessed his comments to the press. He is guilty of murder by his own admission, and with this ruling, he will never be tried in a court of law. He is now free to continue to live as a recluse and a risk to those in the community. It’s the children I worry about.”
“On a side note, did you know Metcalf was also part of the defence for the four Muslim extremists that were caught conspiring to blow up airplanes in Calgary three years ago?” Jack asked.
“Metcalf was on that one? I didn’t know that,” Geordie said. He stared at Jack. “But it’s not a crime to solicit a defence for anyone.”
“All four were guilty. It’s in the file—their movements, maps, phone calls, everything. Facts are facts.” Jack was clearly upset over Metcalf’s actions. “I read the trial transcripts and it was Metcalf again who was key in arguing procedural law to get much of the evidence, statements, and testimony thrown out. It’s similar to what he did in the Garrod Shaw case.”
“Let me make this perfectly clear,” Geordie said. “Metcalf is not a target. His finding loopholes in our legal system does not make him a target. It’s just business for him, and he is good at what he does.”
“I don’t like the man,” Jack replied. “And it cost thirty million taxpayer dollars to try those four—all wasted because of Metcalf’s legal manoeuvring. He works against all of the good we are trying to do here.”
“Agreed, it does appear that way, Jack,” Geordie said. “But until he crosses a line, he remains off the list.”
Lucas nodded. The room went quiet as the men pondered the circumstances so far. A few sipped at their whiskey.
“But Metcalf is a target,” Nathaniel reminded them all. “Kaito Hui made him a target.”
Geordie cleared his throat again and grasped everyone’s attention.
“So we have three going down, not two,” Geordie said rhetorically.
“That is correct,” Nathaniel replied.
“So it’s Garrod Shaw, Harvey Metcalf, and—who’s the other one again?” He looked at Nathaniel for the answer.
Nathaniel smiled at Geordie. “You remember our Russian friend from the consulate?”
“Oh, yes. Of course,” Geordie replied. “The Flushing Russian.”
Lucas smiled.
Jack frowned. “I never did have a chance to meet him, but I still can’t believe he’s never spent a day in jail.”
Francois Leboeuf stood up. “I met the man. A few times at the Russian embassy and at one of our own functions. A bloody sanctimonious drunk he was, running around Ottawa like some big celebrity, drinking and showing his face at every function he could as if he was something special. A real princess.” He grunted. “But he’d only show any interest in being there if the function served liquor.”
“I met him as well,” Geordie added. “It was before he ran over and killed that girl while driving drunker than a skunk. I made a point to steer clear of him after that.”
“Diplomatic immunity,” Jack said. He shook his head. “My God, how do we let things like this happen?”
They all nodded and shook their heads in disgust.
“And not once but three times he did this,” Lucas added.
Geordie corrected him immediately. “No, not three times. He ran over and killed that first girl eight years ago and although they tried to bring him to trial in Canada, he pleaded diplomatic immunity and was recalled back to Russia to face trial before we got our act together over here.”
“And where did that go? Nowhere,” Lucas interjected.
Geordie agreed. “You are correct. Once back in Russia they did proceed with a trial but the end result amounted to nothing more than a scolding.” He shook his head. “Now he’s back in Canada and has had two serious incidences while drinking and driving since he’s been back. One was within three weeks of his return. No one hurt but a bus shelter. That incident elevated him to our watch list. But it was the next one, a pregnant mother pushing her young baby in a stroller, that really caught him in our headlights, and we’ve been watching him ever since. He’s damned lucky he didn’t kill either of them. This guy thinks he’s above our laws, and he continues to laugh at our justice system while putting our citizens’ lives at risk.”
“How the hell did he get back into Canada after running over and killing someone here?”
Geordie shook his head hard. “Don’t get me started. Why he wasn’t expelled the moment he stepped one toe back onto our soil is criminal. And after that second incident, we still failed to expel him.” He raised one arm and pointed out the window into the darkness. He shook his finger. “He’s still out there somewhere, and he’s still drinking and still driving. Eleven times this son-of-a-bitch has blown over the limit since he made our list. He screams ‘diplomatic immunity’ and we roll over.”
Lucas gestured a toast with his glass. “Not anymore,” he said and smiled. “Not after this weekend.”
Nathaniel nodded. “And you do know who was there waving the immunity flag with him every time?”
Jack’s mouth dropped open. “Not Metcalf again?”
“Harvey Metcalf see
ms to have a habit of finding his way into these high-profile legal decisions.”
Jack shook his head. He seemed confused. “So all three of these gentlemen are somehow entwined?”
“It gets better,” Nathaniel said, “…or worse, I guess you can say. I haven’t explained exactly how Kaito Hui fits in on all of this, and I’m not sure if I can. I’ll just give you what I know.”
Francois topped off a number of the empty shot glasses and listened to Nathaniel explain.
“Who defended Garrod Shaw?” Nathaniel asked rhetorically.
“Harvey Metcalf,” Jack replied.
“Right. And did you know what happened to Shaw after he murdered his children and the first trial ended in a hung jury?”
Jack and Lucas both shook their heads.
“Shaw became recluse—somewhat of a bum. After he survived the first trial, he was released a free man. In a nutshell, no bodies were ever found at the time, and there was not enough physical evidence to convict him. He wasn’t the sharpest to start with, but with the accusation that he murdered his own kids and the long, drawn-out trial that ended up hung and resulting in his freedom, of course he lost his job. With no money, he quickly slipped away into the shadows. He was soon hanging out and sleeping anywhere he could just to get food and shelter. The media and public were all over him anytime he showed his face. There is no place for the likes of a man such as him.”
“And there shouldn’t be,” Jack added.
“Spends most of his time these days on the seedier side. Hanging out with ex-cons, druggies, boozers, and that lot.”
Jack shrugged.
“In the years that followed that first trial, Shaw was accused of accosting three children, and he still remains a suspect in many more cases. One girl in particular is of importance here tonight. The details are sketchy, as all cases are sealed to protect the identity of the child, but this girl was just ten years old when she was grabbed outside her school in southwest Calgary. Shaw had been on the prowl for a while. The first two girls he was accused of assaulting were picked up and molested near where he was living. He was questioned, but there was insufficient evidence to lay any charges on either case. This third victim was different. Shaw picked up this girl in an affluent area of Calgary and had his way with her for three full days, finally dropping her off at a mall near her home once he was done with her. This ten-year-old girl collected some very particular details about him and what was inside the van used to drop her off. Video from the mall surveillance identified the van. The van was registered to a friend of his, and with the girl’s testimony and the video, Shaw was arrested and charged with kidnapping and child molestation. With all the evidence collected, this one should have stuck. He was positively identified by that little girl. But amazingly, he got off on a plea deal with no jail time and was back on the streets in days.”
“That’s abhorrent,” Jack said. “How the hell can you get off when there’s evidence like that?”
Lucas added his own comment as he rubbed his head. “Bastard.”
“Of course you can guess who pleaded in his defence.…”
“Metcalf,” Jack said. He was very annoyed.
“Metcalf defended Shaw successfully at his trial, so of course he was the first one Shaw called.”
“I’m really not liking this Metcalf the more I know about him.”
Nathaniel stared at Jack. His grin widened.
“What? I don’t like the man.”
“Okay, Jack. So you don’t like the man.” Nathaniel continued to grin. He glanced at the others. All eyes were on him. “But the real question here is not about Shaw at all. The history I told you just binds Shaw’s and Metcalf’s paths together. The question is why did Kaito Hui pick Metcalf as his own target?”
“Maybe Hui thinks like I do and just jumped the gun on the man. Metcalf’s destined to make our list sooner or later.”
“I don’t like this kind of talk.” Geordie said. He glared at Jack. “What we do is measured and calculated. What Kaito Hui has chosen to do is…well, you know what I’m talking about. There’s a line we do not cross. Hui seems to have crossed it.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s how I feel. Metcalf is bad news,” Jack said.
Geordie’s face began to redden and his agitation was clear in every move he made. Nathaniel thought the blood vessels along his temples were sure to burst when Geordie stuck out his finger at Nathaniel and let loose.
“You brought this son-of-a-bitch into this organization! You! How much did you even know about this man? Anything?”
Nathaniel reeled at Geordie’s accusation, but stood his ground the best he could. He stammered out his response. “We unearthed everything we could find about him. He is the most ethical businessman I’ve ever known. He’s a family man, with a son and daughter…I mean just a son—his daughter passed away last summer…accident, drowned in their backyard pool. They’ve lived in Calgary for the past eleven years. His wife is on numerous committees, he’s been.…”
“You knew shit about Kaito Hui!” Geordie screamed. “A man doesn’t get into our organization unless he’s clean! And I mean clean! You think you knew this candidate of yours? Jesus, Nate. We don’t just go by your word on a man, for Christ’s sake. I had a team comb over this man’s life. This goddamned man is just as clean as you and I am for Christ sake!”
Nathaniel hated being grilled by anyone, let alone the highest person in the Order. He could feel the perspiration accumulate on his forehead and he hoped it wouldn’t break in beads down his temples.
“We also know how very close you have been with Kaito and his family—dinners, golf, vacations. And yet you paraded him through here as if he was just another candidate to be looked into. That’s what annoyed me about this whole thing from the start.” He extended one long finger out at Nathaniel. “This man is a friend of yours.” He shook his head. “I don’t like friends. Not in this business.”
The room went silent. Nathaniel hadn’t felt so undressed by anyone in decades. The truth was, he had been very close to Kaito and his family, but that was years ago. Moving to Ottawa had a huge effect on how and when the two families could get together. It had been well over a year, almost two in fact, since they had vacationed together. He’d wanted to go to Reina’s funeral, but Kaito insisted it only be attended by immediate family. Diane was hurt when Nathaniel told her they couldn’t go and took it upon herself to even call Lena, but Lena echoed Kaito’s response. It was to be family only. Diane had not heard from Lena since.
“So when exactly did you know about this third target of his?”
Nathaniel cleared his throat. “Kaito called me out of the blue late Thursday night. He was excited—much too excited. I think he thought I’d be proud of what he was doing in going after Metcalf. He just said he pulled the trigger on the targets of his very first assignment and that included that son-of-a-bitch Metcalf. I told him Metcalf wasn’t a target. I asked him what the hell he thought he was doing.”
“And he said what in response?”
“He said Metcalf had a date on top of a mountain. I immediately asked him to stand down, but he said it was too late.”
“A mountain. He said that?”
“Yeah. A mountain. Of course I expressed my opposition to everything he was suggesting and told him I was catching the first plane west. My intent was to try and put a stop to it, but everything was already in motion. You know how these things work. There is no easy way to step in and stop what was already in play.”
“And he never told you why he decided to go after Metcalf?”
“Why? Uh…no. I didn’t think the reason was a relevant piece of information at the time. I just wanted to get face-to-face with him and put a stop to it.”
“Not relevant?”
Geordie didn’t have to say anything more. No one had ever made Nathaniel feel so small and vulnerable. He eyed the bottle of whiskey and motioned to Leboeuf for a top-up.
“You flew all the way out west, met
with him for a full day, and you never asked him why he added this new target of his?”
Nathaniel fell back onto what was preached as the number one rule—plausible deniability. “Of course I didn’t ask him for details. My interest was in getting him to call off whatever he had planned for Metcalf. He seemed eager to tell me details.” He paused. “I told him to keep his mouth shut about them.” He stared at Geordie and expected another tongue-lashing.
Geordie’s glare deepened as he stared down Nathaniel and tapped his fingers on the bar. He was deep in thought. He said nothing for what seemed an endless amount of time. His head nodded up and down slowly. He eventually smiled and turned to the others. “See,” he said. He pointed his thumb at Nathaniel. “The number one rule. If everyone followed the rules, our business would be so much easier.”
Leboeuf smiled in response before using the change in conversation to move the meeting along. He leaned forward into the middle of the group and dropped the bomb. “And that brings us to the reason we are all here. Nate’s package.”
Geordie frowned and slammed one fist on his frail knee. “Now tell me how the hell Kaito Hui’s own son ended up as a package on this?” Rage bubbled up to the surface briefly and then settled. Lucas and Jack both cast bewildered looks at the news and shook their heads.
How Geordie knew this information baffled Nathaniel, but Geordie was perceptive and it was becoming very clear that he was well informed. Perhaps he knew more than he was letting on. He glanced at Leboeuf, suspecting him to be the source, but he was unreadable.
There was no easy way to dumb down the answer. “Kaito purposely placed his son in the middle of the pot.”
Geordie pushed himself upright on the stool until he was sitting straight with his shoulders as square and proper as he could manage with his exaggerated, old-age hunch. He lifted his hand in the air and jabbed his finger out at all members present.
“Gentlemen. This kind of bullshit is what is going to bring us all down. You all know what is at stake. I am too old to go to jail, but you gentlemen.…” He pointed at them all. “You have family and many years ahead. We can’t allow this one little bastard to get out of control.” He shook his head violently and raised his voice. He was angry. “Never! Not tonight! I want you to pick this apart piece by piece over the next few days and figure how to take care of this! Every aspect needs to be dissected, cleaned, and sterilized! And I don’t mean just disposing of this package if we have to. You got me?” He stared at Nathaniel and held his pointed finger out at him as if he wanted to say more.
The group quickly fell into its position below Geordie inside the Order and agreed to take whatever action necessary.
Geordie kept his outrage focused on Nathaniel. “Exactly how deep into this was Kaito Hui’s son placed?”
“Can’t get any deeper. Kaito used our men like always, but he put his son between himself and our men, that’s all I know. He met our agents, and because of that I must assume he knows who the targets are. And I’m afraid he might have left a lot of bread on the trail.”
“A blood-feast right to us, goddamn.”
Nathaniel nodded.
“Gentlemen, let’s drink up. We have much work to do.” He continued to glare at Nathaniel.
The men drank the whiskey until the bottle was emptied. Talk circled around Kaito Hui and what Nathaniel knew. Only tomorrow would they find out what Kaito Hui had planned for his victims. Only tomorrow would the group finally know how bad things were and what strategies may be required to put things back on track.
Geordie pulled Nathaniel aside as the other members slipped out the back of Hotel La Sapiniere to bed down at one of the local inns for the night.
“You do understand where I stand on this?” he asked.
Nathaniel nodded.
“I really do hope so. This one is yours, Nate. I’m giving you Jack and Lucas here to help you try to contain this, but that’s it. I’m going to see that the trail ends here.” He poked one finger into Nathaniel’s sternum and held it there. The fire in his eyes from earlier had receded into an icy coldness that sent a shiver down Nathaniel’s spine. “I don’t care how close you were to the Hui family. I’m giving you seventy-two hours to find out how bad this is and fix it. After that, I’m pulling all resources away and sweeping the trail. You understand?”
Nathaniel inhaled a deep, cool breath and released it slowly. He nodded at Geordie. Sweeping the trail meant leaving Nathaniel as the only connection to Kaito Hui. He knew how it worked.
“I had no idea this was coming, Geordie. If I had any idea.…”
Geordie scoffed.
“Nate.…” He looked down the short hall where the others had departed to make sure no one was still hanging around the rear door within earshot. “Cleaning up the bread crumbs is one thing…”
Nathaniel frowned, unsure of where Geordie was going with this.
“...but it doesn’t necessarily end there.”
Nathaniel had no idea what Geordie meant. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”
“Damn it, Nate. It’s Kaito Hui I’m talking about.”
Nathaniel frowned. The problem with Kaito Hui was his son. He already had him packaged up.
“After you have this mess sorted with his son, I want him gone.”
Nathaniel took an unconscious step back from Geordie. He was at a loss for words.
“Oh, c’mon, Nate. Don’t look so surprised. You know what I’m talking about. Once this thing is settled, we have to decide if Kaito was a good fit. You and I already know the answer to that question.”
Nathaniel swallowed hard.
“Does he look like a good fit to you?” Geordie asked coldly. “He sure as hell doesn’t to me.”
Nathaniel had heard it suggested before that someone could be removed from the Order, but it had never actually happened. What Geordie meant by a good fit meant a lot more than the words let on. Once you were made a member of the Order, you were a member for life. Life. If you were expelled for any reason.…
“I believe in Kaito Hui,” he replied to Geordie.
Geordie stepped forward and placed one hand on each of Nathaniel’s shoulders. He stared deep into Nathaniel’s eyes.
“You do know what I’m talking about, Nate. If we deem him a poor fit when this is all cleaned up.…”
Nathaniel began nodding in attempt to prevent Geordie from saying what he knew was coming.
Geordie hesitated and pulled his arms away from Nathaniel. The two men stared at each other blankly. It had been a long night, and words could not describe how each man felt.
“I’m not just talking about that nineteen-year-old kid of his. If we have to we get rid of him, so be it. Kids die all the time. He’ll be just another student who goes missing while hiking in Europe for the summer. I’m talking about Hui. Hui is now a member of the Order. We’ve never had to remove a member.…”
Nathaniel winced at Geordie’s words. He hadn’t even said aloud to himself the possibility of having to exterminate Kaito’s son, and Geordie’s words sliced deep. He’d known Kaito Hui and his family for a very long time. He was more than just another member. Kaito was much closer. At times, he was a true friend.
“I understand,” Nathaniel said in reply. He knew exactly what Geordie meant.
The two men stood apart and stared at each other. The awkwardness swarmed around them in the dark hall. It was a scene neither wanted and neither knew how to break free from.
Nathaniel moved first. “I will do what’s necessary,” he said before he turned away and shuffled slowly down the short hall to the back door of Hotel La Sapiniere, reinstalling his black hat in the process. As he stepped outside, he wanted to scream.