“Unless real suicide,” said Romanov.

“I feel certain it wasn’t.”

“Okay. Maybe you are right. You want me arrest Pike? I make him talk.”

“That wouldn’t help us. We would never be able to get his confession admitted in court if it was given to you under duress.”

“Under my dress?” replied Romanov angrily. “I am a man! What you think? I am woman prostitute who —”

“Duress! It means what you would do to Pike to get him to talk.”

Romanov paused for a moment. “Oh, now I understand. You think I make him wear dress, he talk?”

“That’s not —”

“Never before I hear that. Other prisoners beat him,” said Romanov, thoughtfully. “That maybe work.”

“No, not dress,” said Jack, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “The word just sounds the same. It means anything you would do to him to make him talk if he did not want to talk to you.”

“Oh. No worry. I just beat him. I no kill him.”

“I know. We call that duress. That would really hurt our case. If we are going to catch the guys he works for in Canada and the United States, we need to go about this my way.”

“What is your way?” asked Romanov.

“Wiretap. For that, I want you to let Pike go. I need the bad guys to be relaxed and think they are getting away with it.”

“Will you still need me to come to Canada?”

“Yes, for sure if it goes to court. Maybe the United States, too.”

“Okay comrade. I no put Ben Pike in a dress. I let him go.”

“Thank you. One more thing. You said you had pictures of Welsh’s wife and kids. Please scan and email me copies.”

“Okay, comrade. I do that. I also send you picture of body that go splat on sidewalk.”

Jack’s frustration continued to build after he hung up. Welsh’s death was proof that he was on the right track. Except he would still be alive if I hadn’t been wasting my time talking to Inspector Dyck …

Jack felt his need for vengeance grow. He thought about the pictures that Romanov would be sending him. Am I doing the right thing about using them? … damn rights I am …

Chapter Sixteen

Jack and Rose arrived at Assistant Commissioner Isaac’s receptionist’s office at precisely nine o’clock Monday morning and were directed into his office.

Dyck was already seated in a sitting area around a coffee table with Isaac. Jack caught a slight grin on Rose’s face when she heard Isaac telling the inspector that his security clearance really was lower than everyone on the Intelligence Unit.

Dyck remained silent as Isaac gave a cordial greeting and gestured for everyone to sit down.

“As I understand it,” said Isaac, “Corporal Taggart has an informant who knows the identity of a serial rapist … or is in fact that rapist, is that true?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Jack.

“And you refuse to identify the informant because of information you were given concerning five murders,” continued Isaac.

“Of which I am told only one death has ever been discovered,” said Dyck. “Not only was it classified as accidental, it relates to some guy who fell off a ladder putting up Christmas lights eight years ago in Los Angeles.” Dyck glared at Rose and said emphatically, “What can be proven is that the serial rapist we are after, is currently very active in our country!”

“I have received more information over the weekend,” said Jack, opening up his briefcase. “On Friday I received information from the informant that an American from Seattle was about to be murdered in Russia. I made inquir-ies and a Russian detective located the man in a hotel in Moscow.”

“You made and received inquiries to and from Russia that fast?” said Isaac.

“Uh, yes, sir. I didn’t feel there was time to go through Ottawa.”

“How did you manage to pull that off … or is it a need-to-know basis?” Isaac asked, with a sideways glance at Dyck.

“How I did it is not a secret. I simply have a friend who is a Communist Intelligence officer.”

“I see,” replied Isaac. He looked at Dyck and said, “And he thinks contacting Russia or having a friend who is a Communist Intelligence officer is not a secret … makes you wonder what he really does or knows that rates S-A clearance, doesn’t it?”

Dyck looked sheepish and nodded.

“Please continue,” said Isaac, returning his attention back to Jack.

“The Russian detective tried to call me early Friday afternoon, but I was delayed in a meeting for two hours, so he left a message on my office phone and held off doing anything until I returned from the meeting. When I got his message, I called him immediately and suggested he take protective security measures.”

Silence descended as Jack removed some photos from his briefcase. “The man’s name is Lorne Welsh. The first picture is of his wife and him.” Jack paused after he dropped the picture onto the coffee table to let them glance at it. “This second picture is of their two children.”

“Nice-looking kids,” commented Isaac, while raising one eyebrow as he glanced at Jack.

You’re damn rights something is up … “The last picture is of Welsh again,” continued Jack, “although his face is tough to recognize after he went over the side of the eighth-floor balcony of his hotel room.”

Isaac and Dyck were seasoned policemen, but the sight of Welsh’s shattered, bloody corpse next to the pictures of his wife and children left them both visibly shaken.

Jack sat back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest and stared at Dyck. Now you know how I felt when you shoved Amanda’s picture in my face …

“Unfortunately, the Russian detective missed Welsh’s demise by approximately ten minutes,” said Rose.

“If I had not been delayed at a meeting, I think he would still be alive,” added Jack. He knew it was an obvious comment, but still took satisfaction in rubbing it in.

Dyck picked up the pictures of the children and his hands shook as he glanced back at the picture of Welsh on the sidewalk.

“If the informant is accurate,” continued Jack, “Welsh takes the murder tally to six. The informant says two more victims are being selected to be murdered in the next couple of months. Both Canadian.”

“The meeting you were at,” muttered Isaac, “I hope it was important.”

Jack saw that the inspector was still staring at the photos. His hand was trembling and his face was pale. He did not appear to be listening to the conversation. Jack felt a wave of emotion. I’m an asshole. This guy really cares.

“Corporal Taggart?” prodded Isaac.

“The meeting was with Major Crimes,” said Jack. “I was seeking assistance in regard to how to investigate the murders, as well as what could be done to stop the rapist, without putting justice into disrepute by breaking my promise to the informant.”

“No,” said Dyck, shaking his head. “That is not right. Sir, I had called that meeting in an effort to find out who the serial rapist was. This,” he said, with a nod toward the photographs, “is entirely my fault.”

Isaac stared silently back and forth at Dyck and Jack for a moment, then cleared his throat. “The context of the meeting or who called it is irrelevant. What is done is done. What we need to do is focus on what I see as being two separate investigations. One of murder and one of rape. In regard to the murders, is there an operational plan in place?”

“Not on paper yet, sir, but I am formulating a plan on how to proceed,” replied Jack. “The only Canadian murdered, so far, is from Vancouver, but I do not yet have any evidence that any of the murders were committed on Canadian soil.”

“Then get your plan on paper,” replied Isaac. “Presumably it will include working with foreign authorities.”

Jack nodded.

Isaac stared at the photos a moment longer, before looking back at Jack and saying, “I take it you also have a plan in regard to the serial rapist?”