The Guilty

‘It gets worse,’ Striker said.

Rothschild looked back with concern. ‘What could be worse?’

‘Archer was shot in the back, Mike. You need to tell me how that happened.’

Felicia nodded. ‘And since the only time his back was towards you was when the team was making entry, that would mean that the bullet was fired before the explosives went off. Even before Chipotle started shooting.’

For a moment the words just hung there, and the confused, sick look on Rothschild’s face remained. Stu

‘That’s not how it happened,’ he said.

‘Then explain it to me,’ Striker said. ‘Cause I want to believe you here, Mike, I really do. But nothing’s adding up.’

Rothschild took the CAD papers from Striker, sorted through them, and then frowned. ‘The problem is right here. Page seven. They’ve listed my position as southeast; fact is, I was north.’

‘North?’ Felicia said.

Rothschild nodded. ‘Think of the terrain.’

Striker did, and as the layout developed in his mind, he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner. ‘That house is on Blanche Street . . . where the land there slopes down towards the river.’

‘And it’s steep as hell,’ Rothschild replied. ‘You can’t get an elevated eye from the south – only a ground eye.’

‘Which would put the squad directly in your sights.’

‘Exactly.’

Felicia nodded as she saw it too. ‘So you repositioned north. You should have broadcast it.’

‘I did broadcast it. North was the only option. And it was still bad. The entire side of the rancher was nothing but windows. And with the midday sun shining down, there was one hell of a gleam. Breaching from that end would have been squad suicide. So they came in from the south, and I did what I could to cover from the north.’

‘Sounds like a less than perfect situation,’ Striker said.

Rothschild let out a frustrated sound. ‘It was a cluster-fuck. A thrown-together squad of reserves. Only Koda and Archer had any experience. The rest of us were just a bunch of novices. When things went bad and Chipotle started firing through the windows, the whole team fell apart. Half of them spun about and raced for cover, and before you knew it, Archer was exposed. The breach went off, and Chipotle was out there firing at everyone . . . it was fuckin’ chaos.’

As Rothschild spoke the words, his breathing grew deeper, faster.

‘I had to engage,’ he said. ‘Otherwise Chipotle would have mowed them all down. So I fired – three, four, five times, I can’t remember. I just fired and fired and fired till he stopped shooting, until he went down . . . And then we found out about Archer.’ He looked up and now his eyes were watery. ‘I thought – we all thought – that Chipotle had gotten him. No one knew it was us . . . that it was me.’

‘Chad Koda did,’ Felicia said. ‘Or he found out soon after.’

Striker nodded. ‘And so did Oliver Howell. He thinks this was all one giant cover-up. That’s why we’re all here, Mike . . . Oliver Howell thinks you murdered his father.’

One Hundred and Thirty-Seven

Striker and Felicia left Rothschild and the kids under the protective care of Patrol and headed down Kerrisdale’s main drive. Striker needed some time away with Felicia. A place where they could be alone to organize all the jigsaw pieces of this puzzle.

So much, there was so much.

He stopped at the local Starbucks on 41st, the one across from the Bank of Montreal, and purchased a pair of coffees and two pastries. ‘Any kind,’ he told the clerk. ‘Just throw them in the bag.’

Food in hand, he returned to the car.

They drove down to Maple Grove Park and watched the children laughing and giggling and jumping into the public pool. For a brief moment, memories of taking Courtney here returned to Striker – the time she had first learned to swim, the time she had finally gotten the nerve to jump in by herself – and he smiled at those memories.

They calmed his mind.

‘We have to go through this one more time,’ he finally said to Felicia. ‘In detail. So we have it right.’

She agreed. She put down the file she was re-reading, then grabbed her pad of paper and a pen.

‘From the begi

Striker nodded. ‘Essentially, what we have here are two files that are co

‘Joshua?’

Striker nodded. ‘When the boy died, Harry broke down. He got into financial trouble, did some dumb things – who knows what. But in the end, he needed money, and he needed it bad.’

Felicia nodded. ‘And since he was in charge of burning the drugs, he started selling some of them back to the Satan’s Prowlers, through Sleeves and Chipotle.’

‘Exactly. But the operation got too dangerous to do alone.’

‘So he brought in an old friend,’ Felicia said.

Striker nodded. ‘Chad Koda. Which was a perfect fit because, aside from trusting the man, Koda – through his ex-wife Sharise Owens – co

‘And Williams is how Koda got the toy duck.’

Striker held up a finger. ‘Williams was killed for more than just her job as the toymaker,’ he said. ‘Don’t forget, she was also a chartered accountant. Her real role here was to move the money.’

‘Risky work,’ Felicia said. ‘She rolled the dice. She lost.’

‘Came up snake eyes,’ Striker said.

‘You think Harry and Koda manipulated her?’

Striker shrugged. ‘Who knows how she got involved. But once she started moving that money, it was over for her. She was involved. Culpable.’

Felicia scribbled all this down furiously, using mostly shorthand. ‘For all we know, she might have thought it legitimate in the begi

‘Partly,’ Striker said. ‘But we’ll get to her later.’

He picked up some of the paperwork they’d obtained from the Source Handling Unit, skimmed the pages, and then nodded. ‘Next, we have Archer Davies. The man’s an ex-soldier from the British Army. He’s moved to Canada to start a new life with a new woman. He joined the VPD, and soon had his own source.’

‘Carlos Chipotle.’

Striker opened the man’s file. ‘Yes, Chipotle – a man who quickly finds himself in hot water when the gang catches him double-dipping. He owes the gang money and he can’t pay. And these are the Prowlers we’re talking about. They don’t mess around. So if Chipotle can’t come up with the money quick, they’ll kill him. And he knows that.’

‘And he can’t come up with the money.’

Striker nodded. ‘So where does he go? To the VPD. To Archer – offering information about Harry and Koda’s little operation in exchange for protection and indemnity.’

‘Big mistake,’ Felicia said.

‘The biggest. The Prowlers find out. Before you know it, Chipotle’s family is blown sky-high by Sleeves and Chipotle’s on the run.’

‘Which leads to him being grief-stricken, coked-up, and flaunting a machine gun down by the river.’

Striker nodded sadly. ‘And Archer ends up getting injured – which is real bad because it looks like Harry and Koda have worked something out to silence him, fearing what Chipotle might have told him.’

‘And Archer eventually dies from his wounds.’

Striker heard that and stopped talking. Turned silent for a while. The more he thought it over, the more surreal it all felt. So many links in this nightmare chain. He took a moment to sip his coffee and watch the children frolicking in the pool. Their high-pitched shrieks of joy and excitement. Their laughter.