Chapter 47

The next thing I know, I’m being woken by a knock on the bedroom door. Carol tries to crawl out of bed to answer it, and I pull her back to me and say, “Come in.”

Gun opens the door and steps in. He cuts to the chase, “She is no worse than we anticipated. Dr. Willson refuses to estimate how long it will take before she is back to normal until after tomorrow’s tests.”

“At least there is some good news.”

“If you want to see her, I would suggest the girls stay in the living room. I think she has had all that she can take for one day.”

Moira pushes on me to get going and says, “Go on. She needs you.”

Carol slides out of my grasp, pulling me to my feet. My girls know me well. Whenever I nap, I wake groggy as all hell. It is difficult for me to get out of bed, and I am relatively slow of thought. I still think faster than most people, but if you ever want to pull one over on me, the best time is after a nap. In any event, I appreciate the help to get out of bed.

We walk over to the other house arm in arm. I don’t want to overwhelm Grace with too many people, so we enter through the side door, into the kitchen. Moira and Carol stay there while I go looking for Grace. I find her in one of the bedrooms, sitting on the bed with Jane as Dahlia sits at the desk. Even though the door is open, I knock and say, “Hello.”

Dahlia immediately gets up to hug me. Jane says, “Hi.” And, Grace looks up at me with a sort of half-smile.

I ask Grace, “Do you want me to stay or go?”

“Ss st stay.”

“Gun gave me a quick rundown. What time are we supposed to be at the university tomorrow?”

Dahlia answers, “Dr. Willson said he needs time to clear everybody out and set up the equipment. He’ll be ready by 12:30.”

“Grace, can I steal Jane for a minute. I need to talk with her in private. Dahlia will stay here and keep you safe.”

She doesn’t say anything, but when Jane tries to get up, Grace holds her arm, not letting her go. Jane tries to comfort her, “I will only be a little while, and we aren’t leaving the house. I’ll just be on the other side of the door.” Reluctantly, Grace lets her go.

I deliberately don’t close the door when we leave so that Grace can see us. We walk far enough away that Grace can’t hear. I start, “I think we found you a new job. From now on, you are in charge of her safety and making sure the wrong people don’t discover that she is alive.”

“That is only going to last so long. Eventually, people will ask who her parents are and why she doesn’t have identification.”

“I’m taking care of that. We have two options. The first is I use my military contacts and see if we can’t get her an ID from another country or there is a way to build her a new identification in Canada, but it means hiding her for a year and then giving her the ID of a dead girl that is a year older.”

“A dead girl? Who is she and how did she die?”

“I don’t know. I was just going to head to Vancouver and look at gravestones until I found a girl the right age with a last name that would suit a blond-haired blue-eyed girl.”

“What do you do then?”

“Apply for the birth certificate by mail, then apply for a SIN number. Once you have that, you can get any government-issued ID. There is no counterfeiting involved, and everybody will be none the wiser.”

Hospitals have been computerizing death certificates for a few years. It is more recently that birth certificates have been too. Birth and death certificates from this era are never cross-referenced. If you were born before 1980, this is a perfectly viable way to create a new identity.

“What would it look like if we tried getting an identity from another country?”

“It would most likely be Germany though I would prefer the UK. We would get their intelligence service to issue her ID, claiming she is an orphan and distant cousin of mine. We are her closest living relatives, and Sam becomes her legal guardian. She could even keep her birthday, but her name would have to change. The problem with it is that she will need to be taught an accent that she can eventually lose. She will also need to learn a full cover story and cultural references. If we use Germany, she will have to learn to speak German without an accent.”

“What is the likelihood of getting identities from them?”

“Germany will likely be easy. DMB is good at their job, so they will know about the corruption within the RCMP. Convincing them that we are in need shouldn’t be a problem. Germany’s military and arms merchants owe us big time, so I can’t see it being a problem.”

“And the UK.”

“MI6 is almost as good as DMB. Convincing them we need help isn’t the problem. Convincing them to help is. There is nothing in it for them. We have done a lot to improve safety on their naval ships and the Harrier, but they won’t see that as a reason to help. I might be able to convince them by selling them arms that nobody has yet, but once we are on that train, there is no getting off of it. Then again, how many people died rescuing her. Am I not already a merchant of death?”

“That is a bit different. Every one you manipulated to save Grace deserved it.”

“About three-quarters of my mind realizes that. The other quarter keeps showing me the faces of those I killed and those that were killed because I manipulated them. I’m sure I am doing better than most people after their first kill, but I am still bothered by it.”

“As long as you recognize it. Too many people try to deny it and get into trouble.”

“Anyway, back to Grace. Would it be too much to ask for you to move in here with her? She has bonded to you better than anybody. We can still hire a nurse, and my girlfriends will help out in any way you ask.”

“It’s not like I have a social life. Paul won’t be happy losing me.”

“I’ll talk to him. He’ll understand.”

Heading back into the bedroom, I notice Dahlia is sitting on the bed, holding Grace. I’m glad to see that Grace has accepted her. I sit beside them and say, “Grace, how would you like to live here with Jane?” She nods her head, yes. “She will need to go home tonight to pack and sort some things out.” She shakes her head no and clings on to Dahlia tighter. “How about Dahlia, and I spend the night with you. Would you like that?” She once again nods her head.

“I guess you and I are spending the night. I’ll phone your Mom and Sam.”

“Thanks.”

Jane leaves the room with me, and Grace hugs Dahlia tighter, rocking back and forth. Heading for the kitchen, I tell Moira and Carol that they can relax in the living room after they phone their parents and let them know what is going on, but to be sure the parents know not to tell anybody. I make my call first as Jane leaves.

I head back to the bedroom, moving the desk chair to sit in front of Grace and Dahlia. Once I am seated, I say, “I know that today has been a big day. Do you just want to go to bed, or do you want to get to know Moira and Carol some more? They are in the living room and want to say hi.”

She finally says something, “Why?”

“Why what? Do you want to know why they want to get to know you?”

Grace nods.

“They love you because I love you. That is what happens when somebody truly cares for you like you and me.”

“Why do you care?”

“I was your boyfriend. Don’t you remember? We were in love. I found a bad man doing something to you and helped you. Then some other bad men came and took you away.”

“T t tr Trent, you’re not a dream?”

“No, Honey.”

“Then, where is Rachel?”

“She had a bad time too. I sent her to Calgary to get help. She will be back in a couple months, I hope, then we can all be together again.”

She lets go of Dahlia and hugs me. I’m sure it’s as tight as she can hold me, but she has gotten so weak that it is hardly more than a regular hug. She cries and asks, “What took you so long?”

“I’m sorry. I tried. I really did. I’m sorry, I didn’t come sooner.”

I want to hold her tight, but with her injuries, I am afraid of hurting her. Instead, I rest my head on hers and let my tears flow.

When we get ourselves under control, I suggest, “Let’s go to the living room and meet your sisters.” Grace is hesitant, but it doesn’t take much cajoling to get her to move.

As you would expect, when we get to the living room, Grace is silent and clingy. She has closed up again and refuses to talk. We chalk it up to it being too much for one day, so Moira and Carol head home.

Dahlia and I take Grace back to what has now become her room. I tuck her in, but as soon as I try to leave, she gets up and pulls me back into the room.

“Dahlia, could you grab us some bedding? You and I will have to sleep on the floor.”

I tuck Grace back in and sit on the desk chair to wait. When Dahlia returns, I help her create a makeshift bed. We end up in our usual position with me as the big spoon, and we all quickly fall asleep.

When I wake up, I almost panic. Grace isn’t in her bed, and I can’t find her. I wake Dahlia, and the first thing she does is asks, “Why are you waking me so early?”

“I can’t find Grace.”

“Oh, my God. Where could she have gone?”

I can hear a moan from the other side of the bed. I quickly crawl over it, and there is Grace, laying on the floor, between bed and wall, without blanket or pillow. I leave her to sleep and make breakfast with Dahlia, leaving the bedroom door open. We make enough noise that if Grace gets up, she will know where we are. Primarily, I tell Dahlia how we rescued Grace, had the would-be gangsters killed in a shootout with the Meno Mob, and cleaned out the RCMP armoury.

With everything that has happened in Fort Grand in the last couple years, the RCMP will replace most of the cops there. The Meno Mob isn’t forgiving. Most of the bosses in the area will be killed for incompetence, weakening their leadership. In a few short days, we cleaned up most of the remaining corruption in the area. If it weren’t for the condition we found Grace in, I would be proud of what we accomplished.

Before we are done making breakfast, I notice Grace sitting on her bed, staying in her room. Dahlia places the last of the French toast on the stack and puts the plate on the table. I suggest, “Why don’t you cut up some of the toast and sausage for Grace. I think it might be painful for her to do it herself.”

“Shouldn’t we wait, so it doesn’t get cold?”

“She is awake. I’ll get her while you cut her food.”

“K”

I head down the hall. Sitting beside Grace, I hug her, kiss her forehead, then say, “You don’t have to stay in your room. This is your house now. You are safe here.”

She cowers as if she is scared of something. I think it is the freedom that she has a phobia of. I stand up and hold out my hand. When she grabs it, I pull her up to her feet and say, “Come on. It is time for breakfast, and the doc said to see what would happen if we gave you real food.”

Tentatively, she follows me to the dining room, where I pull out a chair for her. At first, she is confused, not realizing the chair is for her. When she clues in, she sits down but doesn’t touch her food. Hoping she is waiting for me, I take a bite, but she doesn’t move.

“Go on. The food is yours. You need to get your strength back, and that won’t happen if you don’t eat.”

She looks at her food then at me. I just stare at her until she takes a bite, then I continue eating. Since we are eating in silence, I figure now is as good a time as any to talk to Grace.

“Sweetie, you need to see that there are plenty of people who care about you and want to help you. I can’t always be here, and neither can Jane, so every night, you will have somebody else that you can trust spend the night with you.”

She doesn’t look convinced, shrinking in sadness. “You trust Dahlia, Jane, Moira, Carol and me, don’t you?”

She nods her head. I know she doesn’t trust Moira and Carol yet but is willing to give them a try because Jane and I say she can.

“We are the ones that will be staying with you. When she is better, Rachel will too. We also need to find you a nurse. I know that sounds like a lot of people, but we won’t all be here at the same time. Don’t stop. You need to eat more. You used to love it when I cooked.”

She gives me a half-smile then starts eating again.

I switch to talking to Dahlia, explaining my concerns about it being found out that Grace escaped and how she needs to be kept hidden until she can normalize a bit. I’m not sure it is the best thing to discuss in front of her, but it is worse for her to see that people are always talking about her behind her back, and it’s something she has to hear. It would be much worse if she decided to take off and is discovered.

After breakfast, the rest of my girlfriends arrive with Jane. I kiss my girls hello and goodby at the same time. After the kisses, I state, “If I am to get her a new identity, I need to hit the office and make some calls before the end of business in Europe.” I then kiss Grace on the forehead and leave, not looking back since I don’t want to see her in distress from my leaving.

Work is less than a five-minute walk. It’s still early, 0715, when I get there. I immediately pick up a phone and make my call.

“Adm Cub’s office, MS Hobs here. How can I help you.”