Death By Degrees (4 page)

Kat ended up bringing breakfast down to me since I didn’t want to get up. Two fried egg sandwiches, nice and sloppy, hit the spot better than I would have expected. Maybe the popcorn appetizer had helped. The few minutes I took to eat also allowed me a tiny bit of extra space, but once the plate was down on the coffee table the kids were back as close as could be.

The movie ended a bit before lunch so I took the kids into the backyard to play for a bit before I fired up the barbeque. Lunch was hot dogs grilled to perfection by me, a veggie tray put together by Kat, and a plate of berries and apple slices laid out with Kasia’s help.

I had elevated the hot dog from its humble beginnings, at least for me anyway. The toppings were key and depended on what I had on hand. Pickled daikon, an Asian radish that could grow to the size of your arm, or kimchi, a Korean staple were favourites of mine, but today it was diced Vidalia onions and thinly sliced avocado. Most of my friends, as well as my family, found my hot dog habits a little bizarre, but it had become an art form.

We had just finished eating when the doorbell rang. The doorbell was rarely used anymore, only the occasional door-to-door sales calls, charity collections or missionaries, ever seemed to come by. Everyone else was generally expected or known well enough that they could just walk in. These two were neither.

I looked through the window as I approached the door and saw my inspector standing there with another man. The mystery man was at least twenty years my senior, graying hair and a receding hairline, and a pair of thick-lensed glasses showed his age, while the slim body dressed in an impeccably pressed suit made me think otherwise.

“Afternoon, Sir,” I said, opening the door and letting them in. Inspector Arthur Bateman, ranking officer at the detachment.

“Lincoln, sorry to bother you at home, but I didn’t want to drag you away after the last couple of days. Figured you still needed a break.”

“Thank you, Sir.” I looked toward the other man and the Inspector took the bait.

“My apologies. Lincoln, this is Jean-Pierre Dumas, Secretary-General of INTERPOL. Jean-Pierre, Detective Lincoln Munroe.”

The handshake was over before it had really sunk in. The Secretary-General of INTERPOL was at my house?

“Welcome, Sir,” I said, wondering what the hell was going on. “Please, come in.”

“
Merci
,” he said, before correcting himself. “Thank you.” His accent was obvious, but not a hindrance in communication.

I showed them into the living room and offered them a seat.

“Can I get either of you anything to drink?”

“Still a scotch drinker, Lincoln?”

“I may have some, Sir. For yourself, Mr. Dumas?”

“That would be great. And please, call me Jean.”

“And Lincoln, cut the Sir crap with me as well. You know how I feel about that.”

Same way I did. Rank had its place, as did addressing superior officers formally. Being in the presence of the head of the International Criminal Police Organization was one of those times.

“I take mine neat,” I said. “Same?”

Jean looked at Arthur. “No ice.” Jean nodded.

I poured us each two fingers of scotch, an eighteen-year-old Highland malt, and handed the glasses out before taking a seat. Kat walked into the room and noticed Arthur.

“Arthur, hello,” she said. “It’s been a while.” Both Arthur and Jean stood up when they noticed Kat; gentlemen, through and through.

“Kat, this is Jean-Pierre Dumas. Jean, my wife Kat. Jean is in charge of INTERPOL.”

The look of surprise on Kat’s face was obvious. “A pleasure,” she said. “What brings you here?”

Jean smiled. “Business of course. Where in Poland are you from?”

“Warsaw. And I thought my accent had faded.”

“I lived in Poland for several years. Kat must be short for…” He paused, hesitating.

“Katarzyna.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll leave you three to talk. Lincoln, do you want me to take the kids down to the park?”

I didn’t get a chance to answer. Jean spoke first. “Actually, if you could join us. This has to do with you, as well.”

Kat and I looked at each other, both with no idea what was going on.

“Where to start?” Jean took his glasses off and cleaned them. I hadn’t noticed any dirt or grease, which led me to believe it was a nervous reflex. “I was in Toronto for conferences when I found out about this case you have going on. The number of queries you did, the agents you spoke with… word traveled quickly. An international serial killer. We’ve seen people cross country borders before, but never to this extent. And when I learned that the killer had contacted you directly, well, it was beyond precedent.”

“Agreed. I’m not sure what to make of this case.”

“Neither am I, Lincoln. And I find it very concerning. Which is why I want to make you an offer.”

I couldn’t help but think of
The
Godfather
when he said that.

“What kind of an offer?”

“Work for us. The OPP has already approved my request. This case will have you traveling all over the world, working with various police forces, and we have the resources to make that work. We have offices around the world, agents fluent in more languages than you can name, and our own passports that will make traveling simple.”

I had heard of that – INTERPOL passports. They weren’t recognized by every member country yet, but I remembered hearing that around a hundred countries recognized them. Complete with biometric data they were a secure and convenient way for agents to get through customs while on duty.

“I don’t know, Sir,” I said, reverting to formalities. “It’s a huge decision. And not one that I can make alone.” I looked at Kat and recognized that face. She was worried, and so was I.

“Understandable. It wouldn’t just be you, either. Your family could join you there, we could arrange for an apartment in Lyon and schooling for your children. And we want you to assemble a team to assist you.”

“A team?”

“Whichever detectives you want to bring. We’d prefer to have you working with people you know and trust, and you would have our personnel to assist as required. What we are doing is forming a new division, something that will likely only operate as long as it takes to bring this case to a close: the International Homicide Division. And we want you to lead it.”

“I really don’t know what to say. I mean, I’m flattered, but I don’t know if I can do it.”

“It’s fine, Lincoln,” Kat said. “I think it’ll be good. I’ve always wanted to spend more time in France, the kids can work on their French and this will be extremely good for your career. Not to mention, it’ll be hard to catch this guy from here.”

I looked at her, deep into her eyes and saw that she was telling the truth. She wasn’t agreeing just for my sake, she wanted to do this.

“How many people can I bring?”

“How many do you think you’ll need?”

Kara, Eddie and Chen.

“Three. If the one can come, we’ll need arrangements made for his family as well.”

“Done. Do we have a deal?”

“Actually,” I said, thinking of Dr. Heinlen. “Maybe four, an anthropologist.”

“Not a problem.”

My eyes met Kat’s again. A nod from her was all it took. “Deal.”

“Good. I know there is a lot to arrange, but I would like to have you in Lyon the day after tomorrow.” Lyon, France, home of INTERPOL’s headquarters.

“I’m sure we can make that work.”

“Thank you, Lincoln. I’m sure that this will be agreeable for everyone involved. I need to go though, have to get back to Toronto. I fly out tonight, but I wanted to do this in person.”

“I’m glad you did, thank you for coming.”

We all stood up and made our way to the door.

“Thank you for your time,” Jean said, extending his hand once more. “I look forward to seeing you both again.
Au revoir
.”

And with that, they were gone.

“France, huh?” Kat said, a smile on her face.

“Yes, you can go shopping,” I said. “That was your plan the whole time, wasn’t it?”

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of it. Anyway, I’m sure I’ll be able to spend a little money now that you’re in charge of the International Homicide Division.” Her voice took on an air of pomposity as she said the last part. I had to admit, it was pretty cool.

Never in a million years had I expected this - the head of INTERPOL coming for a personal visit, and putting me in charge of a division of INTERPOL. When I finally caught Crawford, I had to make sure I didn’t forget to thank him for choosing me.

Chapter Six

“S
till can’t wrap my head around all this,” Chen said, leaning back in the window seat he whined like a baby for.

“Cut back on the complementary beer and maybe you will.”

“Shut it, Link. They’re free and we don’t start on duty until tomorrow. And our wives are still in Canada whereas we are flying free and clear over the Atlantic.”

“I should tell Julie you said that.”

“You better not,” Chen said, sitting bolt upright.

Kara laughed from the seat to my left. “Are you two ever planning on growing up?”

We answered in unison, “not bloody likely.” We shared a high-five before Chen finished his drink and flagged down the stewardess for another.

“Really?”

“Do you know when the last time I was able to drink was? That night in the hotel after I got shot because of you.”

I knew he was kidding, it was just the way we were with each other. “Touché, Chen-Chen. Touché.”

“Both of you are wimps. Neither of you were that badly injured.” Kara was joining in now, ready to sling words with the best.

“And you walked out without a scratch on you,” I said. “Must be nice.”

“I’m not complaining, the break was nice. You know, after almost winding up the victim of a serial killer.”

“The same one who stabbed me and led to me breaking my ankle?”

Chen was laughing now. He stretched his left arm out in front of Kara and me, putting his scars at eye level. He’d been through hell getting that arm fixed. The round that had hit him had gone right through - a round from a high-powered rifle. It had shattered his ulna and done extensive damage to the ligaments and muscles. It had taken three surgeries to fix it and even then he was down to about eighty percent of the strength he’d had. His mobility was less effected, but the loss of strength I knew was a tough one for someone as active and athletic as Chen to bear. He hadn’t let it stop him; in fact he looked like he was in better shape now than he was before the surgeries.

As much as he could be an ass, deliberately of course, I was looking forward to working with Chen again. We hadn’t had the chance to really work a case together, not from start to finish. I assisted on his case when I helped excavate William Jeffries, the man I’d killed as a child to save myself and my father, and then he’d assisted in the corruption case, ultimately helping to save my life.

To anyone outside of policing, they wouldn’t get it. But there we were, on what could be the biggest serial killer case everywhere, and I was happy to be working with Chen on something not so stressful. We’d actually have time to sit in the office and go over files, hit the street in search of leads and investigate crime scenes together. We hadn’t done that since training at the Ontario Police College together. And that was all pretend.

Kara and Chen worked well together as well. They’d been forced to in order to rescue me. And they had done a pretty good job of it. The only one on the team that I wasn’t sure about yet was Eddie. He had wanted his own seat in a separate row and was currently sitting a few seats behind us wearing a Super Mario t-shirt, a monstrous pair of headphones and rapping along to… what was it? Wu-Tang Clan? And he was clearly annoying his neighbours.

There was something – make that a lot of things – strange about that boy, but he was a genius when it came to computers and other forensic analysis techniques. I needed him, regardless of his eclectic choices in music and fashion. Then there was the fact that Kara tried to avoid him. She said it was the looks he gave her, but I wasn’t sure it was just her. He had a hard time keeping eye contact with people and usually looked at you sideways, his eyes rolled to the right. It was a little off-putting at times, if only because we were used to eye contact.

In an interrogation, if they can’t keep eye contact they’re usually hiding something. I doubted that was the case with Eddie, he was just different - a little socially awkward perhaps. But Kara was still convinced he had a thing for her, which was part of the reason why I didn’t argue when he asked for a different seat.

Kara was going to have to get used to it, though. We were going to be working together a lot, even with Kara in the field and Eddie in the office.

Then there was the last member of our team. Dr. Heinlen had turned down my offer as he couldn’t cancel his trip to Africa, however he gave me the next best thing. His Ph.D. student, who according to him was an outstanding student, was willing to help us out. Najat had needed a bit of time to take care of a few things back home and would be joining us on a later flight.

And then we were five.

Our flight took us from Toronto to Paris then, following a brief layover, from Paris to Lyon. It had been a long trip by the time we landed in Lyon, though it had probably seemed shorter to Chen; he was half in the bag by the time we reached Paris. I had managed to convince him to lay off the beer on the flight to Lyon, with the promise of a few drinks once we made it to our hotel. INTERPOL was working on getting our apartments in order, all within the same building, but it would be a couple of days. Until then, we were being put up in a hotel not far from headquarters.

It was just past nine in the evening, local time, when we landed at Saint-Exupéry International Airport just east of Lyon. The four of us made our way through the airport to find our luggage but I found myself distracted by a plaque commemorating the renaming of the airport in 2000. Turned out it wasn’t named for the saint as I had so readily expected, but a famous Lyonnais aviator and writer, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, who had vanished while on flight duties during World War II. His plane and a bracelet belonging to him were finally found more than fifty years later.

Chen and Kara were hollering at me, telling me to hurry up. I was that guy, the one who always held up the group on trips and at museums as I read every little plaque, poster or display along the way. When pressed for time, I’d take pictures of them so I could read them later. The small details of our history were very important to me. Maybe because I was a product of some of that history.

Descended from slaves stolen centuries ago from Africa, my great-great-grandparents, Charles and Hettie, had suffered unimaginably until they fled their ‘masters’ and took off along the Underground Railroad. Hettie was pregnant at the time, and thanks to the kindness of strangers - and Charles allowing himself to be captured to keep the slavers from the rest of the group - she had made it to Canada.

Charles wasn’t so lucky. He was returned to the cruelty he had tried so hard to escape from and beaten regularly for his attempt at freedom. But he had heard, through messages relayed by allies and abolitionists, that Hettie was safe in Canada and that their baby girl, Mary Ann, was doing well.

Five years later Charles made it to Canada, finally being reunited with his wife and daughter, whom he saw for the first time. His freedom was due to one man, Abraham Lincoln, and their son, born two summers later, bore his name. Every first born son had been Lincoln Charles Munroe from that point on, myself the fourth and my son the fifth.

I looked in the polished glass of a billboard display and focused on my face. My features were those of my ancestors, but my skin was the product of a black father and a white mother. I was lighter than my father, but aside from that fact, I looked just like him - right down to the tightly curled hair that was slowly turning from black to gray.

The only exception was my eye colour, bright green like my mother’s, a gift from the Emerald Isles. My father’s eyes had been brown, such a deep brown I often found myself lost in them. They were the window to a soul I had only truly begun to understand after he had passed.

“Hurry up, Link!”

“Coming,” I said, although it wasn’t nearly loud enough for them to hear me. I took another good luck at myself, at a man who had been through so much already, and for the first time in a long time, I felt proud. It was a strange feeling, but it was a good one. The scars I had earned, the gray hairs the same. I smiled at myself, then turned and walked away.

An hour later we were dropped off at our hotel - the
Hotel de la Cite Concorde
. It was on the
Quai Charles de Gaulle
, and within walking distance of INTERPOL headquarters which was just down the street. I Googled the hotel when I found out we were going and was pleased to learn it was a very nice place to stay; ranked sixth on TripAdvisor for all hotels in Lyon.

The hotel itself was quite nice-looking from the outside – a glass façade on the front and a less extravagant one on the back which faced on to a large park in the heart of Lyon. I told myself that the park was on the list of things to do once the kids arrived. The Parc de la Tête d’Or, complete with what appeared to be kilometres of paths and trails surrounding a large lake, looked to be a thing of beauty. I knew the kids would be happy to see it and excited to explore just as I was.

That night though, I needed sleep. The bellboy helped get our luggage up to our rooms. They had set us up each with our own rooms, which made things far easier. I had said goodnight to everyone and settled in somewhat, unpacking only what I needed for the next day, when my phone rang.

“Lincoln, how have you been?”

“Crawford?” I still wasn’t used to this, let alone his voice.

“Who else? Hope you’ve settled in alright. You’ve done a lot of flying the last couple of days. Not to jetlagged, are you?”

I wanted to ask him how he knew, but if I did it would give him power. Better to act like his questions were nothing out of the ordinary.

“I’m fine, thanks.” I stood up and made my way to the door, opened it quietly and slipped into the hallway. Kara’s room was directly to the right and Chen was across the hall and down two. I had to get them both.

“Good to hear. I find it takes me a little longer to adjust these days. Maybe I’ve been traveling too much lately.” I gently knocked on Kara’s door.

“You’ve been busy these past couple of years.”

“That I have,” he said. I thought I heard a slight chuckle, but I couldn’t be certain. I was at Chen’s door now, and lightly tapped it with my foot.

A moment later they both opened their doors and I did my best to signal to them that I was on the phone with our suspect.

“So, what’s up? Why the call tonight?”

“Just making sure your flights went well and that you got in safely. Wouldn’t want this to end before it even got started.”

“Of course not. There wouldn’t be any fun in that.”

“I can tell that you’re mocking me, Lincoln. That’s fine, but understand that I’m not kidding around. I chose you for a reason, and if you intend to stop me, you had better start taking this seriously.”

“Believe me, Crawford, I am.”

“I sincerely hope so. So that you know that I’m not kidding around, I’m only going to allow one question this time. You would’ve had three.”

Apparently Crawford was not a fan of even the slightest use of sarcasm. I didn’t care though, the last thing I intended to do was to let him think he was in charge of this. We’d caught murderers before without them helping us to do it, and we could do it again.

“How generous of you. But just to make things clear, one question or three, or even none, we’re still going to find you. Never forget that. In fact, ask yourself a question. I’m done.”

I hung up the phone and saw the looks of surprise on their faces.

“There’s so many things we need to know, Lincoln,” Kara said. “You should’ve asked him something.”

“Yeah, Link. Not sure I agree with cutting him off like that.”

“We’re in charge here, not him. He’s not the one calling the shots, and we can’t let him think he is any more than he already does. We need to bring him down a peg.”

“I hope you’re right, Link.”

So do I.