Page 41 of Soul of Discretion

“Who is it?” Margaret’s thin voice cracked as she spoke.

“Margaret, it’s Sergeant Nick Cooper. I’m a friend of Simon’s, may I come in?” Nick kept his voice as soothing as possible.

He was a big man and didn’t want to scare her when she opened the door so he took a few steps back. Ben moved to the other side of the vestibule and stood guard as they heard the locks being turned. Slowly the door opened only a crack, the chain lock still on, but Margaret took a long look at him.

“You were at the hospital with Simon.”

“Yes. We’re working together to find out who killed your husband. Simon was on his way here when he went missing. Could you give me what you were going to give him? It might help us find him.” He hoped.

Margaret looked unsure, but after a few moments she removed the chain lock and invited Nick in. She quickly shut the door behind him and relocked it.

“How are you doing?” Nick asked as he watched the frail woman cross the room to a desk he hadn’t noticed the last time he was here. Then he took a good look around and was surprised to see the floor in a few areas. “You’ve been working hard on cleaning your home I see. It looks good.”

“Thank you. I’m embarrassed I allowed it to become so shabby. And the worst part, I didn’t even care.”

“You’ve come a long way, you should be proud of yourself,” Nick told her, and he wasn’t blowing smoke to make her feel better. She looked so different from the first time he met her. She had a long way to go still, but she was firmly at the beginning of her new life.

Margaret clutched an envelope to her chest and stared at Nick as if looking for something. “I can understand why Simon is so taken with you. Promise me you will get him back before he turns out to have an end like my Jack.”

He looked her dead in the eye and promised, “I swear it on my life.”

Margaret handed over the envelope. It was addressed to her and had been postmarked from before Jack went missing. It was thick, and Nick was about to open it when his cell phone rang.

He stuffed the envelope in a pocket on the inside of his coat to keep it safe and answered. “Cooper here.”

“Nick, you have your search warrant. It seems like no one wants to be responsible for the earl’s death.” He could feel his heart speeding up at the news. “We’ve contacted Durham Regional Police for further backup. We’re meeting at the corner of Wentworth Street East and Wilson Road South before we converge on their location at the bottom of Farewell Street. We’re heading that way with six RCMP officers to team up with local authorities. Meet us there.”

“Yes, sir.” Nick let out a long breath as he headed to the door. Margaret hurried ahead and unlocked it for him. “Ben, we need to go. They got the warrant.”

“Please God, let Simon be alive when you find him,” Margaret prayed as the officers walked onto the elevator. God wouldn’t be in attendance this evening because the devil was riding Nick hard to destroy the bastards who hurt Simon.

****

Two hours later

Nick stood with his bulletproof vest firmly in place, his 9mm semiautomatic pistol on his hip, and a MP5 submachine gun clutched tightly in his hands. He wasn’t coming out of there without Simon no matter how many Baronnes he had to go through.

It was well past dark and there were only a few vehicles outside the building. They had sent a drone in to confirm the structure was almost empty; no one wanted innocent people caught in the crossfire. Using the drone, they were also able to confirm that Anthony Baronne’s BMW was parked out front. Earlier, Nick had stopped to have a chat with Reggie, who was still in lock-up at the station. He’d confirmed being in the building before and that no one was ever allowed to enter the basement level. According to Reggie that was where all the “shit went down.” So that was going to be the first place Nick would look.

They had a convoy of six armoured vehicles. They’d learned from past run-ins with the Baronne family to be prepared for any type of response. Nick was in the lead vehicle. He wanted in that basement before anyone had the chance to do any further harm to Simon.

Nick’s vision narrowed, his hands gripping the dashboard so tight his fingers hurt as their group pulled onto Farewell Street, twenty seconds away from their arrival on the property. He pushed his feelings aside; nothing would take away his focus. He wasn’t leaving without Simon.

Their vehicle sped up and the orders to strike were given. The chain-link fence crumpled under the steel-reinforced wheels of their vehicle. Gunfire erupted almost immediately from sentries posted on the roof of the building, but the bullets didn’t pose a threat to the armoured truck. The officer driving spun their vehicle around the building and aimed directly for the glass front. They were going in.

Glass shattered as their sixteen-thousand-pound vehicle squealed to a stop in the large lobby. Nick jumped out of the back along with four other armed officers. They’d all received an email with detailed specs of the inside of the building, and Nick immediately headed for the stairs to the basement. The door was locked. Two officers brought over the battering ram, making easy work of the door, but it had slowed them down.

They could hear gunshot going off in the building above them, but Nick refused to stop. He knew Simon was down here somewhere; he could feel it. The group separated at the bottom of the stairs, each following a different grey, cinderblock hallway. He kept his back to the wall and silently worked his way forward; he’d be of no use to Simon if he got himself shot.

He waited at every doorway, listening for voices or any noise at all. When he heard nothing, he turned the handle, ducked his head inside the room twice before going in to find it was empty. Shit.

Another officer joined him from a secondary hallway; at least now he had someone at his back. Nick increased the pace and he knew they had to be deep in the bowels of the basement by now. Still no sign of Simon, and Nick was getting frantic. Then he saw it, a sliver of light coming from underneath one of the closed doors to the right. Nick moved to flank it as the other officer held up three fingers then began the countdown. At three, they crashed through the locked door.

Nick would never be able to erase what he saw from his memory. Simon was tied to a chair, what was left of his clothes was soaked in blood. Numerous cuts and bruises were covering his pale body and his blond hair was matted and tinged with red. He sat with his head hanging down, unmoving.

Nick raced across the distance and gently felt for a pulse and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it. His fellow officer pulled out a small medic’s pouch and went to work.

“Simon, can you hear me?” Nick asked in a hushed tone; after all the building hadn’t been secured yet.