Torque (17 page)

Kim landed with a thump as the Molotov
cocktail hit the glass and exploded on contact. Fenn heaved himself
after her, grabbing the side strap on the thin mattress to pull it
over them. The heavy drapes absorbed much of the impact but, soaked
with fuel, they rushed into flame. Though temporarily protected, it
was tight quarters between the bed and the wall and Kim struggled
to sort herself out. She was now fully awake but totally
confused.

“Chas? What’s happening?”

“We’re being attacked. Stay down!”

There was a loud boom, and the curtains
billowed inwards. A hail of pellets peppered the wall above them.
Completely engulfed the shredded fabric dropped fiery fragments
onto the rug, igniting residual droplets of gas into little rings
of blue flame. Thick smoke was starting to curl down from the
ceiling and soon the air would be untenable.

A second blast ripped overhead and a sharp
cry followed.

“Kim! Are you all right?”

“Something hit my leg. I think I’m
bleeding.”

Screened from eyes on the outside by the wall
of flame and smoke, Fenn shoved the bed away from them and got to
his knees. Kim tucked herself into the corner clutching her calf, a
mixture of bewilderment and fright on her face.

“Why are we being attacked? Tell me!”

Fenn worked to keep a calm tone. “I think the
bathroom window will open. Can you manage to climb through it?”

“Wrapped in a sheet?”

“I’ll get your clothes. Just go.”

He found one of his boots and gave it to her.
“If the screen sticks knock it out with this. And stay low.”

The gunfire appeared to have ceased but the
smoke in the unit was quickly replacing the oxygen. Fenn thought he
could hear an alarm and the sound of sirens.

He crawled beside her to the bathroom door
then, sucking air through a blanket, set about gathering any
clothing he could find. Again, seconds seemed like hours and nearly
blind with stinging tears he stumbled into the bathroom with lungs
ready to burst. He slammed the door shut then stood on the toilet
seat coughing and sucking in fresh air from the open window. He
wiped his eyes with a pant leg before shoving the bundle of clothes
through the torn screen.

“About time!”

Although he couldn’t see Kim, she sounded
healthy enough. He draped a towel over the sill and worked on
getting himself through the narrow gap.

The clanging of bells was now very clear, as
was the wail of sirens. This was the back of the building, where
truck and bus parking was shared with the roadhouse. Awakened by
the commotion a couple of drivers had dropped down from their rigs
and were heading toward Kim. Crouched beneath the window she was
attempting to wrap her bloody calf with the bottom of her
improvised toga. At the sight of Fenn’s naked form dropping down
the wall the truckers broke their stride. After a two-second
conference they continued their approach.

Kim grabbed her skirt from the pile while
Fenn tried to separate her shirt from his pants. She snatched the
blouse from his hand.

“Where’s my underwear?”

“Somewhere in the room—with mine.” He gave a
weak smile and pulled up his jeans just as the truckers reached
them.

“Was this fellow bothering you, Miss?” said
the shortest of the pair.

“No,” Kim replied. “But he’s starting to.”
There were lines where tears had cleaned the smoke from her face. A
few more bathroom windows had lit up but none were emitting naked
bodies. Fenn tried to decide which of his sleeves was inside
out.

“Nothing more than a flesh wound, Ma’am.” The
taller guy, obviously from south of the border, had claimed the
honour of examining Kim’s wound. “If you’ll allow, I’ve a bandage
in the cab.” He set off at a trot for his truck.

Kim finished buttoning her blouse. “Y’all are
such Gentlemen.” Her voice sounded normal though her fingers
struggled with their task.

Fenn pulled his pant legs down over his
boots.

“I’m going to check around front.” He tried
to sound casual but Kim gave him a startled look.

“Do you think you should?”

“I doubt those guys stuck around, and I think
the fire trucks are here.” Which was a good thing since smoke was
now pluming from the bathroom window above them.

“Which guys?” The short one released his
blood-staunching hold of Kim’s calf so his buddy could play
doctor.

“Kim will tell you. I’ll be back in a
minute.”

“Hey, don’t ask me. I’ve no idea what’s going
on. Fenn, you asshole, get back here!”

== == ==

Another police car bounced into the lot and
stopped near to where the fire brigade was doing its thing. Apart
from soot stains on the outer wall, the other units didn’t appear
to be affected. A couple of smoke eaters replete with axes and
oxygen masks were heading toward the burning room. Fenn ran toward
them waving his arms and dodging guests carrying hastily packed
bags.

Intercepted by a cop, he yelled to a fireman
holding a walkie-talkie.

“Tell them that no-one is in there.”

“Are you sure?”

The blistering door was still intact, and
only a lunatic would have jumped through the curtains.

“Yeah. That was my room. We both got
out.”

The fireman spoke into his radio and his
buddies backed away.

“Both? Where’s the other party?”

“Around back. She may require medical
attention.” Even if she didn’t, was there a woman alive who
wouldn’t soak up a little firefighter attention. It was the least
he could do.

The next six hours were a drag.

== == ==

Fenn’s account of the attack was
corroborated by the Fire Marshall who found shards from a vodka
bottle below the window frame and enough pellets from the walls to
fill a shot glass. Kim went to the infirmary with a paramedic. It
was not the first time Fenn had a date leave with someone else. For
a change, he also left with a different escort. A Detective Haslett
took him downtown, gave him a coffee and a civil, yet thorough,
grilling.

Fenn gave the answers of the innocent. It
seemed the simplest route. Requesting a lawyer would have aroused
suspicion when what he really needed was time to think. Haslett’s
hints of drug deals gone wrong meant they hadn’t gotten anything
from Kim. She had already left by the time Fenn was allowed to call
a cab.

Back at the motel, Dusty, who looked more
like an Achmed and had a British East Indies accent, accosted him
as he unlocked his car.

“Sir. We must speak about these damages.”

Fenn gave him a blank look.

“What about them?”

“I must be recompensed, sir. Who will pay for
these damages?” He indicated the gutted unit. It stood out like a
black eye amidst the modular neatness of the block.

“Isn’t that why you pay insurance?” Fenn
said.

“Sir, when I put in a claim, my premiums go
up. You know how this is.”

Fenn did. “I’m sorry, friend. I’m afraid
that’s the way of business.” He started the car.

Dusty moved to grab the door handle. “No.
This is not good enough! I can charge it to your card, I have the
number.”

“Wasn’t my card,” Fenn shot back, hitting the
lock. It was Kim’s card. Hopefully, that route wouldn’t be
taken.

“I will call my lawyer. We will take you to
court.” That route might be.

Fenn rolled down the window an inch. “In that
case, expect a counter-suit for the unit’s inoperative sprinklers.
And I’ll be claiming a refund for the early check-out.”

He left Dusty to stiff-leg back to his
office. He did feel bad for the guy, though. He also felt bad for
Kim. Hell, he ought to feel bad for himself. A week ago his life
was purring along just fine. Now look at it.

Pure crap.

CHAPTER
25

When Fenn got home there was a note stuck to
his door that simply said, THIS WILL BE REPLACED ON MONDAY. He gave
Mogg her breakfast, then shaved, showered, and crashed naked on top
of his bed where his sleep was disturbed by dreams of disaster.

He awoke mid-afternoon still feeling wrung
out and staggered down the hall. There was a message on the
answering machine but the female caller wasn’t Kim, as he had
hoped, it was Reis. Her client was prepared to sweeten their offer
for the disc. She’d left a number to call. Fenn jotted it down and
then dialed Kim’s house.

Her phone rang until the machine kicked in.
The message was short and direct, “If your name is Fenn, hang up
now and don’t call back.”

“I’m so sorry, Kim. I’m not sure what I’m
dealing with, here, and it really bothers me that you got caught up
in it. I appreciate you keeping everything confidential and, well,
I hope I get the chance to make it up to you.” He paused, could
think of nothing to add, and hung up.

In the bathroom he pulled Mogg’s litter box
from under the sink. He raised the liners and retrieved the package
with the CD jewel case inside. He opened it and held the disc up to
the light. What made this inheritance from his father so valuable
that he’d be firebombed for it? Whatever data it held, it was now
putting his friends in danger and that was unacceptable. He went
back to the phone and after a moment’s debate called Asha at
home.

“What’s happening, Chas?”

“Asha, you once told me your cousin was a
computer whiz.”

“Yeah—Carmen. He develops software for
hospitals. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you already know half of the story so
here’s the rest of it.” He filled in the gaps for her and added the
motel incident. When he finished the line was silent.

“Asha, are you still there?”

“I didn’t know you had a thing for Kim
Klaasen.”

“And I didn’t know you had a thing for Joe
Posada.”

“Posada! Oh. No. That was just a movie date
with a co-worker.”

“Well, mine was just a date, too.”

Asha snickered. “Some date.”

“Let’s just ignore that for the moment. Would
your cousin be able to look at this disc and tell me what’s so
damned special about it?”

“Probably, though he does live in Vancouver.
Give me a few minutes to phone him. I’ll just mention the bare
essentials and see what he thinks.” She hung up and Fenn went to
get dressed.

Quick as her word, Asha called him back.

“Carmen said that if we can put the disc in a
computer connected to the Internet he may be able to read it
remotely.”

“I have an Internet connection but my
computer got smashed. How’s your set-up?”

“I’m on the ‘net but my computer is really
slow. The one at the office is pretty quick, although Dieter will
have a fit if he finds out. The whole Y2K Millennium Bug thing has
got him paranoid about the security of the computer system.
However, it is Sunday so he won’t be there. Meet me at DriveCheck
in half an hour.”

== == ==

Fenn arrived just as Asha was unlocking the
door. She disarmed the alarm but left the lights off. While the
computer was booting up she got Carmen on the speakerphone. He had
her download a program that would give him control of the office
server.

“Put the disc in the drive, Asha,” he said.
Files started to scroll down the screen and a cursor, moved by an
unseen hand, began to highlight text and make new information
appear. Some files had flow charts, others had symbols that looked
like atomic diagrams with notations. Most of the text referred to
complex chemicals and there were several mathematical formulae.

Carmen flicked back and forth for several
minutes then said, “This is out my area of expertise. However, it
looks like documentation for the development of new chemical
agents. If you don’t mind, Chas, I’d like to copy these files and
take them to a friend at the University of British Columbia.”

Fenn looked at Asha who shrugged her
shoulders.

“That’s fine,” he said. “But I need you to
keep the source confidential until I can get more information on
their pedigree.”

“Will do,” said Carmen, and on the screen a
frame opened up with an animation of a file folder flying between
two computers. COPY IN PROGRESS.

Fenn and Asha sat at the desk and watched
quietly. In the silence of the transfer they caught the sound of a
key going into the front door lock. Eyes wide, they looked at each
other.

“That must be Dieter. He’ll go ballistic if
he finds out Carmen has control of the server,” hissed Asha.
“Carmen, we’ve got to go. You keep copying and shut down when
you’re done. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Asha disconnected the call and turned off the
computer monitor. She hoped the little flashing diode indicating
activity on the server wouldn’t attract the attention of her
boss.

Finally gaining entry after first locking
what had been an unlocked door, Dieter, very mod in his flared
jeans, white polo shirt and Burberry car coat, walked up the hall.
He kept the purple, John Lennon style, sunglasses perched on his
long thin nose even though it was fairly dim in the office.

Asha thrust a clipboard into Fenn’s hand then
spun around and flashed a big smile. “Hey there, Dieter. What are
you doing here on a Sunday?”

Clearly surprised, Dieter stammered then
said, “Just, er, forgot something. What are you two doing
here?”

“Oh, Chas lost his wallet so he’s got to
replace his driver’s licence. Since we keep copies in the office,
we’re just looking up the number.”

“First your apartment. Now your wallet. You
really are having a bad week, aren’t you, Chas.”

Fenn nodded and swiveled so Dieter wouldn’t
glimpse the back pocket of his jeans, where his wallet clearly was.
Asha opened a cabinet and pulled out a folder.

“Write this down, Chas.” She read off an
alphanumeric string beginning with an F.

Fenn dutifully copied it to the
clipboard.