I worked at slowing my rapid breathing, and when Lorne stopped for the light at 2nd Avenue, I jerked my head around to look out the rear window and asked, "How would they have identified me?"
"Their photos of you at Dalliance – you'd be in their database of targets, and with the pan-tilt-zoom webcams at Nuance, facial recognition software would instantly make the match. Your huge red hair wouldn't even matter."
I shuddered. "Yeah. And they would have identified you too."
"No, it appears they hadn't."
"Hunh? Why do you think this?"
Lorne drove forward when the light turned green, snaking us across the jogged intersection and into Yukon Street. "I would not have been in their database until last night, and now only as a nameless face. Additionally, the courier package would have been in my name had they known it – far less suspicious than addressing it to you."
"Yeah, true. And had they known, the land titles registry would have given them your floor number, rather than having the courier try to figure it out."
"No, the loft's title is registered to a numbered corporation, which is part of a holding company."
"What? Why is it – oh!" I bobbed my head. "To keep your name from being linked to the address." I winced. "Like mine is."
"Exactly. Among the necessary precautions in my profession." He steered the car into the lane, then a short distance onward, turned into a small bay, lowering his window and extending his arm as we approached the central guard post. The barrier accordioned open, and we continued through.
I watched the gate close behind us as we drove down a ramp, and I blew a loud breath. "This feels safer."
"Yes, a tad tense back there."
"Do you think they suspect the car?"
"Not sure." He pointed over his shoulder. "Our shadow stopped in the mouth of the lane off Yukon, so we might have been tailed."
"Oh, God!"
"It's fine, Kate. We're now safe."
I trembled again. "Wish my body would feel that."
After Lorne had parked, he opened the door and assisted me out of the rear seat and into a hug, my tension easing as I nestled into him. "Why hadn't they nabbed us in the restaurant?"
"Too public."
"But we were in a private room."
"Few of the staff would be onside. Too many witnesses. Too many mouths."
"Oh, God! What if they poisoned us? Something slow."
"Most of the kitchen and waitstaff wouldn't be onside. Innocent participants in the game. Besides, they wouldn't have time to get anything deadly – their recognition of you having just happened."
"Yeah, snuffing us in the privacy of your loft makes much more sense." I trembled. "God, what a horrid thought."
Lorne cupped my head and eased it to his chest. "You're safe with me, Kate."
When I had again calmed, he took the Nuance bag and his leather satchel from the trunk and led me across the parkade, pointing as we passed a door. "The holding cells are through there."
"The jail?"
"No, only the temporary holding and the drunk tank. The City jail is over on East Cordova, beside the former police HQ." He guided me into the elevator, and as we ascended, he continued, "This allows access away from the eyes of those in the public foyer and waiting area."
"Would the Mob have goons there – identifying targets and waiting for them to leave?"
Lorne nodded. "That's a possibility – but a longshot. I would think loitering in the lobby and waiting room is discouraged."
He led me out of the elevator, along a hallway into an empty meeting room. "This is one of the places I use when reviewing evidence, interviewing witnesses and preparing prosecutions, but I've not before used it in this manner."
"Hunh? In what manner?"
"With little evidence. With nothing more than observations and postulations. But, primarily, with no suspects."
"What about the managers at Dalliance, Zack's and Nuance?"
"They are persons of interest, but there is no evidence to connect them to any of this."
"But we know they're involved."
"We do. But that's not sufficient for the Courts." He took out his phone, thumbed it on and touched the screen a couple of times. A few seconds later, he said, "Crown counsel Wilson. I was in the silver Mercedes leaving 388 First."
After a pause to listen, he continued, "Did the loiterers show interest in the car? Photos? Scribbled notes? Particularly the two down the ramp."
Lorne blew a deep breath. "So, no sign. Same with your colleagues in the other car?" He listened for a while, then he winced at me, took the phone from his ear and put it on speaker, mouthing, "Sorry."
"...still stationed along the lane. I'm on my way back there to investigate two reports of suspicious activity around the building."
"Great. Thank you."
"Are you free to tell us what this is about? Give us an idea what to expect."
Lorne pursed his lips, bobbing his head as if in thought. "Mob-related. Widespread fraud with murder as a muffler."
"Yeah, they've been too quiet since pot was legalised."
"Might be best to simply observe and photograph. I suspect they have our photos and that they've been told to watch for us arriving. I'll leave you with it. Again, thanks for your help."
"My duty, sir. Be safe."
Lorne clicked off and wrapped me in a hug. "Sorry, forgot to include you." After a quick kiss, he said, "One more important call."
Back into his phone, he tapped the screen a few times, and after a short wait, a woman's voice said, "Chief Superintendant Driscoll's office."
"Crown counsel Wilson. Is he available?"
"He's been waiting for your call. I'll connect you."
A few seconds later, "Lorne! Are you out? Are you safe?"
"Yes, and yes. Perfectly executed, sir. Thank you. Vital now that you have the Richmond Detachment send their bomb squad to the Novex depot on Knox Way. The failed delivery is being returned. They need to get there before the sender recovers it. I'll email you a scan of the notification."
YOU ARE READING
Red Flag
Mystery / ThrillerReviewing restaurants is normally a safe pursuit, but Kate and Lorne face torture and death when they try to unravel organised crime's infiltration of the fine dining scene. Kate is a novelist and a dining columnist. Lorne is a lawyer, a prominent w...