Risk

The Rats Arrive

Dinner was finished, they were on their third cups of herbal tea and still George was talking. He was in fine form: wild plans, bold dreams, regrets, a bright future, and Gina just sat and took it all in.

“And I’ve already had some ideas about gazebos that echo various design motifs in residential building styles. That way the movement of the eye is not arrested, but flows smoothly over the whole backyard.”

“I hope you’re making notes about all this.”

“For sure. I’m going to need to show all this to Pete on Sunday night. We’re invited for dinner.”

“All of a sudden? Did he check with Martha?”

“I don’t know. It seemed spur of the moment.”

“Maybe I should call her, see if we can bring something. I don’t know what they’re going to serve, but you remember the last time.”

“Let’s not go there.”

“All right, but I’m not going to go hungry again.”

“They’ll probably barbecue,” said George. “And we’ll just bring some veggie burgs or dogs.”

“That would work.” She stood up and brought both their mugs over to the sink and filled them with water. She ran a cloth over them and put them in the drying rack. “Well, it’s pretty late, and some of us have to work in the morning.”

“Yeah, you better get to sleep. I think I’ll sit up and make some of those notes. I’m still pretty jazzed about the whole thing.”

“Okay, baby.” She kissed him on the forehead, and walked toward the bedroom, yawning as she went. “I expect you’ll be making me breakfast in the morning, since you won’t be working?”

“At your service, mi’lady.”

She smiled. “Good night.”

“Night.”

He went into the living room and switched on the computer. Delayed e-mail, indeed. He wished he had been smart enough to think of that. But the bluff had worked. Or it was part of what worked. One desk lamp would do, he thought, so he went around and switched off all the other lights. Walking over to the bookshelf, he again surveyed his collection of architecture textbooks and folios of glossy photos, selecting three that he thought he would need, and returning to the desk.

Flipped through the first one, trying to get the feeling back, the old buzz of ideas and concepts flitting around in his mind. By the second text he was making notes and drawings on a sheet of paper. Then his phone rang, and he jumped up quickly to prevent it from ringing a second time and waking up Gina.

“Hello?”

“Hello, George. It’s Martin.”

He walked down the hall to the kitchen and closed the door behind him. “Marty! I forgot all about you. How’d you do today?”

“Didn’t you get my message?”

“No, sorry. I didn’t even check my voice mail when I got home. What happened?”

“The call went really well. Better than I could’ve hoped.”

“That’s great. What did he say?”

“Oh, it was beautiful. At first he kept denying it all. Told me he was going to call the police. And I kept laying it on him.”

“What’d you say?”

“I told him I was working with the cops, that I wasn’t after him, just the big fish.”

“Good one.”

“I told him I would keep his name out of it if he co-operated. Said he didn’t want his wife to read about him in the paper. Didn’t want to see his kids only on visiting day. In jail! Well, I said the slammer, actually.”

“You are evil!”

“I know. I felt a little guilty, but what the hell, this guy dug his own grave. And he probably would face charges.”

“I’m sure he would. So then what happened?”

“Well, then he told me he was going to call his lawyer, so I say, ‘Tom, we know all about you and Mr. Smith.’ Use his first name all of a sudden, right? Total silence. Then he just cracked. Said he’d co-operate, do whatever I asked him to.”

“Beautiful!”

“Yeah, and get this, you'll love this part. It turns out they had people in there from the FBI, snooping around.”

“The FBI? Come on.”

“No, really. He thought I knew this, I guess because I said I was working with the police. But it turns out the ‘contract’ they were working on was for the U.S. Department of Defense. Nuclear. So it looks like our boys are working for some international arms dealers.”

“Marty, it sounds like you’re getting in a little over your head, here.”

“I know. Isn’t it exciting? I never would have believed that I’d get involved in this kind of thing. And it’s all thanks to you.”

George winced. “Yeah, that’s great. It’s been exciting. But I think it’s time you handed everything over to the cops. Let them take it from here. Thank god you didn’t go out there tonight.”

“No, I did. I’m out here right now.”

“Where?”

“Silver Star Boulevard. I’m on a stakeout. This is my cell phone. To call the cops with. Cool, eh?”

“Marty. Call the cops right now and get out of there. This isn’t a game.”

“No, wait. There’s a car coming. And it’s... a black Taurus. Unbelievable. These guys have no fear.”

“Marty, get going right now. I’ll call the cops for you.”

“No, let’s just see what they do. They’re pulling their car around back again.”

George couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He was actually holding his breath, listening carefully in case he missed Martin's next words.

“Okay, now they’re walking around to the front. What the hell? They’re knocking on the door. Do you think they’ll just smash in this time? Wait a second, someone’s answering the door. It looks like a security — Oh my god, they shot him! They shot him, George!”

“Get the hell out of there, Martin! I’ll call the police. Just run!”

He hung up the phone, ran out the back door and down the stairs three at a time. Hit the sidewalk running and pushing the buttons 9-1-1 as he ran in search of a cab.

“Emergency 9-1-1. Who’s calling?”

“I want to report a break-in in progress at 50 Silver Star Boulevard. A man’s been shot. The burglars are there right now!”

“What’s your name, sir?”

“Never mind that, get someone out there NOW! They shot a security guard. My friend is still there. He’s in trouble.”

“Okay, we have an officer en route. Where is your friend?”

“I don’t know, but somewhere close by. He called me.”

“We’ll need to take statements from both of you, sir.”

He hung up the phone. Breathing heavily, he stood looking at the phone for a second, then he ran back to the apartment, grabbed his jacket, locked the door on the way out, and ran back onto Bloor Street. He looked up and down and saw a cab about a block away heading towards him. He flagged it down, and jumped in the back when it pulled over.

“50 Silver Star Boulevard as fast as you can go. It’s in Scarborough, near Finch and Midland. I’ll direct you, just get going.”