Chapter 7: The Wake-Up Call

After Lester had used his pocket-knife to free Bahn from the chair, they called the Service de police de la Ville de Quebec (which is long for Quebec City Police) and they arrived within minutes to search the hotel and grounds.

"We don't find her," the uniformed policeman who identified himself as Officer Bergeron reported to Bahn, who was now wearing one of the hotel's white terrycloth robes.

"Well, just keep looking," he instructed. "That woman is dangerous and the subject of a federal investigation."

"Yes, monsieur," Officer Bergeron said and left Bahn and Lester in the room as the hotel's maintenance man finished replacing the broken door latch.

"I don't think you should stay here alone," Lester told Bahn, "I could bunk on the sofa over there if you'd like."

"Not on your life," Bahn said vehemently, "I can take care of myself, cowboy."

"I'm sure," Lester said, reaching into his jacket pocket. "But, just in case, keep this with you."

"What is it?" Bahn asked, looking at what appeared to be a gun in a plastic bag.

"It's a gun in a plastic bag," Lester replied. "My back-up. I want you to have it. It's a gift."

"I can't take that," Bahn said resolutely. "And you can't carry a handgun in this country, Sam. It's illegal."

"I know," Lester winked. "But I purchased it legally in New York. It's a 32 caliber Beretta Tomcat and it's perfect for concealed carry. It holds seven rounds in the clip and another in the chamber. Hell, every agent aught to have one of these."

"CSIS agents aren't authorized to carry while in country," Bahn explained. "It helps to keep us from ever shooting each other."

"Well, all the same, take it for tonight so I'll feel better."

Bahn shook his head in resignation and smiled. "Alright, Sam. Give it to me."

Lester took the gun from the thin, clear zip-close bag and handed it to Bahn. "The safety is the thumb lever back there and the lever, up front of the grip, allows the snub barrel to pop up for the extra round in the chamber."

Bahn looked the light-weight weapon over, grasping the stout handgrip. It was a smart-looking piece with its black matte finish and compact design. It fit precisely in his hand as he hefted and squeezed it for feel.

"It's a double-action, blow-back automatic," Lester told him, "But there's no need to prime it. With the round in the chamber, it'll fire as soon as you pull the trigger. Just remember that the safety is on right now."

"But didn't I hear that a Beretta has no stopping power?"

Lester chuckled. "Don't believe what you see in the movies. You load that thing with 60-grain, .32 ACP, hollow-point ammunition, as I did, and it'll give you firepower equaling the punch of a .380 or a 9 millimeter short."

"And what's the plastic bag for?" Bahn asked.

"Comes in handy if you have to hide it in the tank of the toilet. It's a perfect hiding spot - keeps it high and dry. Nobody would ever think to look for it in there."

Bahn laughed at the idea but realized its ingenious practicality. "Thanks," he said.

"No problem, Hamilton. Just remember there's nothing Uncle Sam can't do for you."

"I take it you're referring to the government of the United States?"

"No," Lester laughed, "I'm referring to [I]me[/I]."

Once alone, Bahn sat at the edge of the queen-size bed and pondered his next move. He now knew the identity of the killer and the only thing left was her capture. The Quebec City police had searched the hotel and the surrounding area, to no avail, and were now combing the city for her. Bahn had to console himself with the fact that, wherever she was, she wasn't going to get far and would soon be secured in a cell somewhere.

With the police on the case, and the fact that it was now just after three in the morning, Bahn decided that there was nothing more to do but get himself some much needed sleep after such an exhausting day.

Setting the Beretta, in its plastic bag, on the nightstand, Bahn removed his robe, lifted the coverlets and settled himself into the large, comfortable bed. As he reached to his right to switch off the bedside lamp, he stared at the handgun for a moment and made a decision to take it out of the bag and have it at the ready just in case.

Picking it up from where it lay, he removed it from the bag and checked it over. Depressing the button on the side of the grip, he released the magazine into his other hand and checked it to see that there were seven rounds in the clip. Using his thumb to work the side-lever, he caused the rear of the gun's little barrel to spring up and he could see there was indeed a round in the chamber. Bahn pushed the barrel down until it clicked into place, shoved the magazine back into the grip and checked that the safety was on. Feeling secure that the Tomcat was at the ready, he placed the gun back on the nightstand, turned out the light, fluffed his pillow and settled naked into the bed. Feeling the discarded plastic bag as it rustled against his shoulder, Bahn irritatedly grabbed it and thrust it under his pillow to get it out of the way. Rolling onto his right side, he soon fell into an exhausted and immediate sleep.

Bahn had no idea what had awakened him or what time it was or how long he had been asleep. He just knew that something was amiss as he came awake, in the darkened room, and he reached to the lamp to switch it on, bathing the room in dull light which momentarily hurt his eyes.

The first thing he noticed was that the Beretta was no longer on the nightstand and then, as he quickly turned his body to his other side, he saw that Kit was lying beside him in the bed, holding the gun and pointing it at his forehead.

"Looking for this?" she asked him in a conversational voice.

Bahn couldn't believe this turn of events. "How ... where... ?"

"I was standing behind the curtain, over there, the whole time, Ham. I never went out the window – just cut the screen with the razor."

"And where is that little item now?" Bahn asked, fearfully remembering its touch against his skin.

"Oh, I don't have it on me," she smiled lifting the blankets to show that she, like Bahn, was totally naked. "You can search me if you want."

"No need of that," he said, his eyes roving over her exposed breasts and her feminine curves but rejecting the visual offer.

"But," she warned, "that doesn't mean its not here, under my pillow, or that I might just use it on you at any moment."

"That would make such a mess," Bahn observed.

"Yes, it would," she agreed. "But you never know. I may just have changed my mind about killing you, Ham. Or maybe not."

"The suspense is killing me," he said to her, "but I don't mind telling you, I don't take kindly to the idea of being sliced up."

"Be still my love," she told him, reaching for his penis. "Thinking it over, I've decided to handle you in another way."