Chapter 7: Visitors

"How was your day," Natasha asked as I stepped into the apartment.

"Interesting. I met an old friend of mine and he offered me a job. I'm thinking I might take it."

"Oh ... what kind of job?" I had her attention.

"He runs a detective agency. He's going international and wants me to use my experience in catching commercial criminals. He made it sound interesting."

"Oh ... is it dangerous?"

"No, I don't think so. Most of what he described was theft, industrial espionage ... that sort of thing."

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Sure ... why not. It's something I was trained for ... in a way. Gathering intelligence, assessing information, separating the good guys from the bad guys. It's what I know."

"Yeah. I suppose it is." Natasha seemed less than delighted with my potential new career.

"You don't sound very happy about it," I said.

Natasha was quick to deny. "No ... no ... It's not my decision anyway. You have to do what you think is right. What you'll be happy with."

I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what she was thinking. We had become physically close in the past few days. The intimacy was one thing, but the personal closeness was different. We were still feeling each other out. Trying to understand if there was a future for us. I didn't know, and I was fairly sure Natasha didn't either.

I walked to her and wrapped my arms around her. "What's wrong? You seem a bit down."

"I keep wondering if one day you won't just disappear, just like you appeared."

"Would that bother you?"

"Yes ... of course it would. I don't just let anyone into my life." There was an unspoken message in that comment.

"Why do you think I would just disappear?"

She looked at me strangely, as if she was wondering what to say herself. It took her a moment before she spoke.

"I know some things about you. I know you worked for CSIS. I know you were in prison for several years."

I was caught completely off guard. "How do you know these things?"

"Denis Simard told me."

"How do you know Denis?"

"I work for CSIS."

I was stunned. I had been played like an amateur. My so-called skills had been useless to protect me from an easy intercept. Speechless, I moved back from her and dropped my arms to my side. I turned to the lounge chair and sat.

"Denis will be here after supper. He needs to talk to you," she said in a quiet voice. She almost seemed afraid of me at that point.

I sat in the chair, saying nothing, just staring at her. I didn't know whether to be hurt, angry, or relieved. Hurt that she had deceived me, angry that I had allowed her to get close to me, or relieved that our mutual deception was over.

"Denis will explain everything when he comes, Nathan." She was still using that soft, quiet voice I had come to love.

"Why do you still call me Nathan? You know my name is Colin." I wasn't irate ... but I wasn't very happy either.

"I told you, I like that name. It suits the person I think you are. The person I've been with for the past week."

"The person you've been controlling the past week, you mean." I was beginning to feel an anger building. I had been followed, tagged, and maneuvered like a steer on a cattle drive. There was nothing to feel good about with this turn of events.

"I wasn't doing anything of the kind. I was there because I wanted to be with you. Once I knew you were coming here, my assignment was done. The rest of it was personal. We could track you anyway, but we wanted to know your destination, and if possible, your intent. You gave me both, and I had no reason not to believe you."

I had my hands folded beneath my chin, watching her, trying to judge just how honest she was being. I really couldn't tell.

At length, Natasha spoke. "Why don't we eat now? I've made supper and it's in the oven, waiting for us."

I thought about it for a moment before I agreed. I stood and walked with her to the kitchen.

We ate in silence, my mind trying to decide just how I felt about the events of the last seven days. I was thinking as much about Natasha as I was about the interception. I didn't work for CSIS any more, and I never intended to again. They couldn't be trying to retrieve the eight million I had extorted out of Taggart. Hell would freeze over before that happened. And I wasn't going back to jail. Not under any circumstances. What did Denis want?

I barely heard the question she asked as we finished the meal. "Do you hate me, Nathan?"

"No. You were just doing your job," I answered honestly. I had been in her situation before. I was curious though. "If you didn't have to accompany me, it puts a different colour on your behaviour.

"It wasn't really my job. I just happened to be nearby. I work in Section One. We don't get involved in field work."

"You did this time. Why did you agree to travel with me?"

"I told you ... I was lonely. You were good company. I trusted you."

"Is Natasha your real name?"

"Yes."

She stood to clear the table and as she did, the intercom buzzer sounded. Natasha put the dishes down and moved to the phone on the wall. "Hello?" She listened and then pushed the button for the lobby door release.

"It's Denis. He will be here in a moment. He will want to talk to you alone, so I'll look after the dishes and then go the bedroom while you talk." I couldn't miss the look of sadness on her face.

Two minutes later I heard the knock on the door and I walked to it.

"Hello, Colin," Denis said with an understated smile. This didn't look like a social call. We had been very close; he and his wife, Cassie. It wasn't how I expected him to greet me after more than eight years.

"Hi, Denis. Come in, please."

We walked to the living room and Denis sat in the lounge chair, wearing a serious mask.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"Yes ... the usual, thanks."

"Scotch, water, no ice," I remembered. I poured myself one as well.

"It's been a long time, Denis. How's Cassie?"

"She's fine. She sends her best."

I nodded. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't an 'old pals get together for a drink' meeting?"

"Colin ... I'm sorry to have to tell you this ... but ... your parents are dead."

I sat there stunned into silence. My parents dead? How? When? I couldn't comprehend it. I had planned to find them and try to reconnect with them in a week or so. Bewildered, I didn't know what to say or where to start. I sank back on the sofa, tears beginning to well in my eyes.

"There's no easy way to say this, Colin. They were murdered."

Now I was really in turmoil. It wasn't an accident. It wasn't an act of God. Someone had taken their lives. Why?

Denis sensed my frozen state and continued. "They were in their home in Sarasota. They had been tied to their kitchen chairs, facing each other. There were signs they had been ... interrogated."

I finally found my voice. "How did they die?"

"They were shot. One bullet in the head. I'm sure they never felt any pain."

"Executed, you mean," I said, feeling the groundswell of anger building in me.