The Consultant Page 3

  “Now then, back to my original question. What can I do for you?” Chris asked.

  Jonathan eyed Chris intently for a moment before answering. His in-depth study of the man over the last three months had clearly indicated that Chris Barry was a highly intelligent man and this first personal contact did not lead Jonathan to believe any differently. It was in Barry’s eyes; blue as ice; intense, brilliant eyes. Jonathan sensed that Chris was not one with whom to play games. His best bet was to play it straight; sort of.

  “Chris, I’m gonna tell you a story that I’m putting together,” Jonathan started. “Maybe it’s fiction, maybe not. I don’t know. I’d like you to listen to the story and when I’m done, we can discuss it if you wish. Sound fair?”

  “Hey, it’s not like CompuCorp left me with a whole lot to do,” laughed Chris. “I’ve got time. Tell me a story.”

  “Okay, here it goes,” Jonathan went on. “There’s this kid who’s brought up surrounded by violence in the streets and at home. He’s a smart kid and grows up to be very successful. But the violence he saw and endured during his younger years left him with scars that he has to deal with.”

  He paused for a sip of coffee then continued.

  “To add to his pain, the young lady he has married was witness to her father’s murder. The only way he finds to help the healing process is through violent acts of vengeance. He therefore becomes the Vigilante and makes people pay for their crimes.”

  “Interesting,” Chris nodded approvingly. “Go on.”

  “Being a very intelligent and calculating man, our man plans his deeds well and never gets caught, never leaves a trace. He doesn’t intend to go on forever, but he must ease the hurt. Most of his victims are personally unknown to him and are simply part of his therapy. But there are a few people, four to be exact, who must die for the healing to be complete. Three of them are those have caused personal pain to his wife by taking the life of her father. Able to identify them, her decision at the time was to make them pay some day herself. As destiny would have it, she has since married our hero, who is willing and able to handle this task for her. Two of these individuals die. The third is reserved for later.”

  Jonathan went for another sip of coffee, watching Chris closely for any signs of stress. Detecting nothing of the sort, he pressed on.

  “The fourth person is his mother’s lover from many years before. This man’s crime is not obvious but it probably relates to domestic violence. His death is justified and necessary for our hero to complete the healing process.”

  “So our man kills his mother’s ex-lover?” Chris requested clarification.

  “That’s right,” Jonathan nodded. “We now come back to the third murderer of our man’s father-in-law. Planned or destiny, I don’t know, but he ends up employed by none other than our hero. In the end, this poor soul is framed for the rash of murders and commits suicide, leaving everyone to believe that the Vigilante is dead. What do you think of my story, Chris?”

  “It’s an incredible story, Jonathan,” Chris admitted, impressed. “It is violent at times but it has a happy ending. Is this a true story, Jonathan?”

  Jonathan eyed his host intently as the latter spoke, searching for signs of nervousness or panic. What he saw however, was a calm man, definitely relaxed and composed.

  “Quite frankly, like I said, I don’t know,” answered Jonathan. “What do you think, Chris?”

  “It could be true,” Chris reasoned. “It definitely sounds plausible. Is that where the story ends or does something else happen?”

  Although he really had nothing more to base himself on, Jonathan was now convinced that Chris Barry was the Vigilante. Why else would the man have listened to him and be willing to pursue this strange conversation. He had to make a decision, as he had done in the past with other recruits. Was Barry stable enough to warrant continuing the process or was he some psychopath presently in remission? Jonathan gazed thoughtfully at Chris for a moment and decided that this was probably the most solid candidate he had ever interviewed. He could continue.

  “There is more to the story, Chris,” Jonathan replied. “A witness comes forward, claiming the innocence of the dead, supposed Vigilante. This brings a special agent to discreetly investigate the case all over again and he discovers that what the witness says is true. Many of the murders occurred while the supposed Vigilante’s presence could be vouched for elsewhere. The agent continues to dig and eventually finds the person he believes to be the true Vigilante who, of course, is alive and well.”

  Chris smiled, thoroughly entertained. “This really is a great story, Jonathan. What happens next?”

  “The agent meets with the Vigilante. Now, you must understand that the agent heads an obscure department of the government, which is unknown to the public. This department is responsible for what we might call clandestine activities aimed at the betterment of the country and its allies.”

  “Wow. Isn’t that a very important person to have investigating a local murder case?” asked Chris, amused, “Especially a case which is already officially solved?”

  “Well, the agent’s objective is not to catch the Vigilante,” explained Jonathan with a smile. “The agent is responsible for recruiting new members for this secret department.”

  “Sure, that makes sense,” chuckled Chris. “Jonathan, this is great. Are you telling me that the agent wants to hire the Vigilante to work for the government?”

  “The agent is impressed with the Vigilante and believes that his talents could be a definite asset to his department and to the country.”

  “But what if the Vigilante is not interested?” enquired Chris, suddenly pensive. “What happens then?”

  “Nothing,” Jonathan replied. “Disappointed, the agent goes away to find recruits elsewhere.”

  “What about blackmail?” Chris probed on, “Any chance that this agent might try that route with the Vigilante? You know, to convince him to join the team?”

  “Not worth it,” Addley shook his head. “Those who join the team must be fully devoted. Also, as I mentioned, very few are aware of this department’s existence so the agent couldn’t just come forward to make the Vigilante story public. Doing so might put the department’s secrecy at risk.”

  Chris nodded thoughtfully and asked, “What about the witness? Couldn’t the witness try to make the whole thing public?”

  Again, Addley shook his head as he replied, “All that the witness needs to be told is that following an investigation, the authorities were unable to discover the true identity of the Vigilante. To ensure her safety however, she will be kept in the witness protection programme indefinitely.”

  She… No doubt Carl’s wife, thought Chris.

  He smiled as he spoke, “And you're certain that she will keep quiet?”

  “She has no idea who the true Vigilante is,” Jonathan answered, realizing his slip-up, too late. “All she knows is that he is not dead. She will keep quiet. Her main concern is physical and financial survival. That will be supplied.”

  “Well, Jonathan,” said Chris, standing to indicate the end of their meeting. “I like your story. It's got promise.”

  “Thanks, Chris,” Jonathan replied, also rising to his feet. “Listen, would you mind thinking about the story for a bit and giving me a call. I haven’t nailed down where it will go from here. Maybe you can make some suggestions?”

  He pulled a card from his jacket pocket which he handed to Chris. All that appeared on the card was a telephone number.

  “I’ll think about it,” Chris nodded. “I’m about to have a lot of free time on my hands so, who knows? Maybe I can help you out.”

  “Excellent. I’m sure you could be really helpful,” said Jonathan. “Sir, I appreciate your hospitality and, hopefully, we’ll be talking soon.”

  He shook his host’s hand and then headed for the exit. As he reached the door, he stopped and turned.

  “By the way, Chris, that witness who came forward; would you think that sh
e could be in any danger?”

  “Nah, I doubt it,” Chris replied with a reassuring smile. “From what you told me, she doesn’t really know anything and hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m sure that she’s not in any danger whatsoever.”

  * * * *

  Nick Sharp was scanning through the New Activity Report which the computer spewed out on a daily basis. The report was a compilation of data entered into the National Police Information Network by officers at the local, provincial and federal levels and contained thousands of pieces of information regarding new cases, leads on open cases and solved cases. Though information regarding cases anywhere in Canada was available on request, the system was programmed to automatically generate only data related to cases within a geographic area defined for a specific RCMP division. For Nick, this represented the province of Quebec.

  As he glanced through the pages, he happened upon a name which seemed familiar; Quality Imports. Quickly, he read the details of the new case, a murder which was being investigated by the Montreal police; body found in the trunk of a car; shot four times in the chest; victim’s name, George Robinson; age thirty-one; five-seven, one hundred fifty-eight pounds; male, Caucasian, brown hair and eyes, single; Director, M.I.S. for Quality Imports.

  He picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers. “Arty, remember that call you got last week? Some guy was telling you to check out some company? Yeah, that’s the one. What was the name of the company? Quality Imports? Are you sure? Well, I’m just going through the Activity Report and it seems that the locals found a body on Friday, in the trunk of a car. The guy’s been identified as George Robinson, employed by Quality Imports. Yup, strange coincidence. No, that’s all right. Let me make a few calls. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

  Chapter 5 - Tuesday, January 14, 1997

  As Jonathan Addley climbed into his comfortable, government supplied automobile the cell phone in the breast pocket of his jacket started to vibrate.

  “Yeah,” he spoke into the phone as he closed the door and started the engine.

  “How’s it going, bud?” enquired Nick Sharp’s familiar voice.

  “Hang on a second,” replied Jonathan, pausing to activate the scrambler system. One could never be too careful with cell phones. “Okay, I’ve got the scrambler going now. To answer your question, it’s going pretty good. What’s up?”

  “Jon, we got a call last Tuesday, anonymous, telling us to check out Quality Imports, some import firm in the Laval industrial park. Arty, who got the call, brought it to my attention and did some routine checks on their financial status, customers, bank records, that sort of thing. Everything looked kosher. Now, yesterday, I’m going over the New Activity Report and there’s this new murder the locals are looking into. Victim turns out to be the M.I.S. Director for Quality Imports. The preliminary M.E. report this morning estimates the time of death as somewhere between last Tuesday night and Wednesday morning.”

  “Interesting coincidence,” replied Jonathan thoughtfully as he drove amidst the morning traffic. “What can I do to help?”

  “Well, I’ve got a feeling that the call Arty got and this murder are related. But, we can’t just go busting in there, we have no grounds to do so. Neither would the municipal police if I told them about this. I was wondering if this might be a little project you’d want to think about. Maybe you can get one of your snoops in there, just to look around.”

  “The guy was in charge of M.I.S.?” asked Jonathan, his ever-active mind switching to a higher gear.

  “Yup. That’s what the report says,” Nick answered.

  “Okay. Let me think about it. I have a possible new recruit who happens to be somewhat knowledgeable with computers. This might be a good testing ground for him if he’s interested. Leave it with me. I’ll get back to you.”

  * * * *

  “CSS, Good afternoon.”

  “Good afternoon,” said Jonathan. “Chris Barry, please.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Barry is no longer in our employment,” the receptionist sadly replied.

  “Oh really? I thought he was remaining until the end of the week?”

  “Well, technically, he is, sir,” the receptionist informed him. “But he has decided to take the last few days off.”

  “I see,” responded Jonathan. “Can you put me through to his secretary?”

  “One moment, sir.”

  He waited as the connection was made and, following a couple of rings, someone responded.

  “Chris Barry’s office, Sonia speaking.”

  “Good afternoon, Sonia. Jonathan Addley. I met with Mr. Barry yesterday morning.”

  “Yes, Mr. Addley. How are you?”

  “Fine, thanks. I understand that Chris decided to leave early?”

  “Yes, unfortunately,” Sonia confirmed.

  “I discussed a project of possible interest with Chris when we met and he’s supposed to get back to me. However, I may need his help sooner than I had originally anticipated so I’d have to speak to him. Do you know if I can reach him at home?”

  “I don’t think so,” Sonia answered carefully, always the discreet secretary. “I believe he and his wife went skiing for a few days.”

  “Do you happen to know where?” Jonathan hopefully enquired.

  “Unfortunately not,” replied Sonia.

  “Very well. Thanks for your help. If Chris calls, can you ask him to get in touch with me as soon as possible? He has my number.”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Addley.”

  “Thanks, Sonia. Bye.”

  Jonathan cut the connection and punched in a few numbers. “Hi, Shirley. Jonathan. I’m looking for a Chris Barry who’s gone skiing for a couple of days. I’m presuming he’s stayed relatively local. Can you try to get a handle on where he might be and let me know? I need to speak to the gentleman. No, don’t leave a message. Just let me know where he is if you find him. Thanks.”

  Shirley Tompkins was responsible for all travel and lodging arrangements for the personnel of the Ministry of Defence and she was an ace. If Chris Barry was booked in a hotel or resort somewhere, anywhere, she would find him.

  Chapter 6 - Wednesday, January 15, 1997

  Chris reached the bottom of the slope, coming expertly to a halt, and turned to watch Sandy finish her descent. It was hard to believe that this was only her second season; she skied like a pro. But then again, she had had the opportunity to practice.

  Her school schedule last winter had been such that she had no classes on Mondays and Fridays and, after her first taste of skiing, she had quickly fallen into the habit of getting her studies out of the way by Sunday. This had allowed her additional practice of the sport for fifteen consecutive Mondays the previous year.

  She approached him at a rapid pace, stopping at the last moment and making sure to spray him considerably with the snow from her skis in the process.

  “Sorry,” she apologized with an impish grin as she leaned over to kiss him.

  “Yeah, right,” he laughed, wiping snow from his cheek with a gloved hand. “Want to go for a last run?”

  “I think I’d rather call it a day,” she prudently decided. “This is our first time this year and I’m already under the impression that I’m gonna hurt tomorrow.”

  “Chicken,” her husband taunted with a smile.

  “Yup,” agreed Sandy. “Go on, tough guy. Just don’t complain tomorrow when you wake up stiff all over. I’ll go take a shower and limber up. Meet you in the bar in forty-five minutes?”

  “Deal,” he said, kissing her again before heading off to the chair-lift.

  As he approached the chairs, he reasoned that he too was starting to experience some muscular pain.

  “Maybe she’s right,” he thought. “Shouldn’t overdo it. We will be here for another two days.”

  He changed direction and headed for the lodge where the bar was located, a cold rum and coke being his next objective. After shedding his skis and poles, he entered the cozy bar and made hi
s way to a small table by the fireplace. Within moments, he was comfortably seated, contently sipping his objective.

  “How are you, Chris?” a vaguely familiar voice asked from behind him.

  He turned towards the voice and smiled in surprise at the man standing there.

  “Jonathan. What a pleasant surprise. Have a seat.”

  “Well, I don’t want to barge in on you,” Addley politely replied.

  “Come on. Have a seat,” Chris insisted, pushing a chair back with his foot. “You didn’t go to the trouble of finding me just to say hello, did you?”

  “Guess not,” Jonathan grinned as he settled into the chair.

  “So what’s up?” queried Chris, leaning back comfortably.

  “I was wondering if you had a chance to think about the story we discussed?”

  “Yeah, a little,” Chris nodded. “The way I see it, your hero might be interested in the agent’s proposition. His wife however, is not sure if he should do it or not.”

  “I see,” replied Jonathan, his expression thoughtful. “Say an opportunity came up for our hero to try his hand at this new line of work. A little job that would probably turn into nothing, a testing ground, so to speak. Do you think he might be willing to give it a shot?”

  “I’d say it would depend on what exactly the job was,” Chris answered, obviously interested. “Have you determined that?”

  “In fact, I have,” admitted Jonathan. “Let’s say the cops get a call, anonymous, telling them to look into a company. Let’s call it Quality Imports. Shortly after, a man is found dead in the trunk of his car. He turns out to be the M.I.S. manager for the very same company. Now our hero, who happens to be a computer wizard, offers his services to this firm. They’re in need of a computer guy and he has a reputation for being the best. They accept his services and he’s in. Once inside, he can snoop around to see if anything wrong is going on.”