Blind Side Of The Heart

 

~ 1 ~

David Hopkins was a 16-year-old who was in the habit of spying on the world from the balcony of his parents’ downtown penthouse. He liked to think of himself as a true observer of human nature.

David lived in an older residential condo complex in a fashionable area of the city. It was called Harbour Castle. It sat on the waterfront and consisted of three large, twenty-something-storey buildings, two of which faced each other, sharing a common courtyard. There were terraces on the apartments and the penthouses all had two floors. Harbour Castle was right next to the waterfront recreational area, where sailboats and other pleasure craft dotted the channel between the bottom of the city and the Islands a quarter of a mile south of the mainland.

On this night, a warm one in early July, David was sitting on his darkened deck. His parents were out at some do or other. He was staring through a small tripod-mounted telescope across the courtyard into the penthouse apartment of Tony Shaw. 

Through the window of Tony’s study, David looked around at some of the objects there: a Braille word processor, several pictures of Tony with various people, some of them recognizable, some of them not, a bookshelf neatly stacked with hardcover copies of Tony's mystery novels, of which there were at least a dozen, a bulletin board with several newspaper articles pinned up. One of them displayed a gruesome picture of a wrecked automobile. The headline accompanying the picture read. “National Book Award Winner Loses Sight In Crash”. Why a blind man would want clippings of the accident that resulted in his blindness was beyond David’s comprehension, so he didn’t think about it much at all. 

Finally, the telescope came to rest on Tony Shaw. He sat motionless in a wing chair facing out the window. Tony Shaw was about five foot ten. He had long, prematurely grey hair tied back in a ponytail. His face always bore several days’ growth of beard. He was a handsome man, with chiselled features, a thin wiry frame, and a bit of a pot belly now that he could no longer jog several miles a day. 

Tony was holding a white cane and appeared to be staring out the window, although it was hard to tell, as he was wearing dark glasses.

A few moments passed, then Tony’s wife, Olivia, entered the room. She was carrying a small tray containing a carafe of coffee, some cream and sugar. Olivia was movie-star beautiful. If anything, she bore a slight resemblance to the actress Sophia Loren. 

If Tony Shaw had been part of the monied class, Olivia would have been known as a trophy wife. But as it was, she and Tony had been together since college. Olivia’s family was wealthy, but made their money the old-fashioned way, in the grocery business. Tony had no family to speak of and made his money through the blood, sweat and tears of the writing business. With great success right out of the gate, Tony’s career was a case study in starting at the top and staying there. 

This was mostly due to a senior editor at Penguin Books named Kyle Foreman, who saw something in Tony that a lot of other book people did not, which was his incredible drive.

“Olivia? Is that you?” only asked.

“Yes, dear. I’ve brought you some coffee and a couple of cookies.”

“Just leave it, thanks.”

“Have you done anything today?”

“Done anything?”

“Any writing? You finished your Braille computer courses two months ago.”

“Has it been that long? My, but time flies when you’re having fun.”

At this point, David stopped watching, went inside and turned on the baseball game. He was an observer, not a voyeur.

Olivia sat down in an adjacent chair. She took a deep breath. Frustration and fatigue were present on her face. “You can’t just fold up into a cocoon and hibernate for the rest of your life.”

“Actually, thanks to the disability insurance you so wisely insisted we buy, I can do just that.”

“It’s not about money. It’s about you and your work. You haven’t written a thing in two years. Haven’t you spent enough time feeling sorry for yourself?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, feeling sorry for myself is the only thing I seem to do well, my dear.”

“Yes, I had noticed and I’m embarrassed for you. There was a time when…"

“ENOUGH, Liv! There was a time when I could see and I was famous and we were on top of the bloody world. But that time is no more! We’ve entered into our misery phase, and I for one think I’m coping with it rather well.” 

Olivia stared at Tony. She looked beaten and drawn. She silently rose from her chair and left the room. Tony poured himself a cup of coffee and sat staring out into space, wondering about a whole lot of things.

~ 2 ~ 

The next day was warm and sunny. David Hopkins and Tony Shaw came out of Tony’s building. David was holding Tony lightly by the elbow, guiding him expertly. They headed off toward the promenade that ran alongside the lake. 

Tony Shaw, who knew David through his father, was David’s employer that summer. He had hired David to hang out with him. To walk him around and to tell him what was going on in the world he could no longer see. At first, it was kind of strange, but as David saw the pleasure it gave Tony, he began to enjoy the job more and more.

Tony and David were strolling along by the water. It wasn’t particularly crowded, mostly joggers and power walkers. But it was early in the day. The real action was out on the water, where there were dozens of sailboats and larger yachts moving to and fro.

“It’s breezy today.” Tony said

“The sky’s filled with big puffy clouds. And it looks like everybody and their uncle is out for a sail.” David said. 

David led Tony to a bench. They sat down together. Tony lit a cigarette. 

“Do any writing yesterday?” David asked.

“What is this? The Spanish Inquisition? No, I didn’t do any writing yesterday, David, thank you very much.”

“Sorry. I was just asking.”

“This is a conspiracy. Browbeat me into a shameful state and I’ll start writing again just out of spite. Well, frankly, it isn’t that easy. Don’t think I haven’t wanted to. It’s just…” Tony’s voice trailed off as if he was no longer interested in talking about it.

“I understand.”

“Oh you do, do you? And what about you? Did you do any writing today?”

“As a matter of fact. I wrote a whole chapter. My book’s almost finished.” David was lying of course. He had told Tony that he was writing a book as one of his ploys to see if he could get Tony stimulated.

“I’m impressed. Perhaps I should introduce you to my publisher.” 

“From what I understand, you two aren’t even on speaking terms at the moment.”

“Yes, well, he’s the secret ringleader of this conspiracy to jump-start my wretched brain. And I’ll be quite honest with you David, that is a nearly impossible task.”

“Maybe you just need something interesting to write about.” 

“Brilliant deduction. Unfortunately, the chances of finding something in my present condition are virtually nil.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Something always pops up. You just have to be receptive to it.”

“You are much too optimistic for the times we live in, David.”

“Yeah, well I guess my cynicism is slow to develop. But I am learning from the best, so it shouldn't be too long now.”

Tony laughed and slapped David on the shoulder. “That’s my boy.”

~ 3 ~ 

A few days earlier, sometime after midnight, in an office in the industrial section of Montreal, a young man, in a white shirt and tie that didn’t seem to fit him very well, sat at the screen of a computer in what appeared to be an executive office. The young man had the glazed eyes of a computer hacker. He was sweating profusely as he sat typing. 

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a door closing somewhere behind him. It startled him perhaps more than it should. He looked around, forgetting to breathe. He got up from the desk and peered out into the hallway. It was dark and deserted. He sat back down. 

He pulled a matchbook from his breast pocket and flipped it open. On the inside, the word ‘Octagon44’ was written in ballpoint ink. He stared at the screen for a moment and then typed the password into the computer. Very quickly, the computer opened up a series of files. The young man leaned back in his chair and smiled. He slipped a memory key into one of the USB slots and started downloading the files that had just been revealed.

Down the hall, the stairwell door quietly opened and a man, dressed completely in black with his face covered by a balaclava, entered the hall. He was careful not to let the door shut itself. He moved silently down the hall to the executive offices. He came to the office door that was labelled ‘Systems’ and peeked inside. The young man was standing by the wall next to the window as the computer downloaded the files. He looked over at the man.

“Hey man, what the hell are you doing here?”

The man pulled a silenced 9mm pistol from under his jacket. Without any hesitation whatsoever, he aimed the pistol at the young man and fired two quick shots into his chest and he crumbled to the floor.  

He picked up his ejected shell casings and then entered the office, walking over to the young man, who was lying in a heap on the floor. He bent down and touched a rubber-gloved finger to the young man’s neck. He then moved to the computer. The files had been downloaded. He sat down at the computer ejected the memory key and closed the hard drive. He shut down the computer and left the office as quietly as he arrived.

 ~ 4 ~ 

A couple days later, on the way back from their walk, David and Tony got on the elevator. Just as the doors started to close, an arm reached in and forced them to pop open again. Into the elevator, stepped Alex Quinn, a dark-haired, handsome man in his mid-thirties. He was carrying two handled bags of groceries.

“Thank you.” Quinn said. 

Quinn reached up to press the penthouse button but saw it was already pressed. 

“You live in one of the penthouses?” he asked.

“Yes, in the other building. Mr. Shaw lives in this one.”

“My name’s Alex. Alex Quinn. I’m just moving in.”

“I’m David Hopkins. This is Tony Shaw.” 

“Tony Shaw, the mystery writer?” Quinn said.

“Retired.” Tony said.

“I’m a big fan of yours, Mr. Shaw. ‘The Midnight Rambler’ is a work of art.”

Quinn grabbed Tony’s hand and gave it a hearty shake. 

“Please. Call me Tony.” 

There was an awkward moment of silence. Tony sensed it.

“You’ve taken one of the penthouses, then?” Tony asked.

“Yes, Number Three.”

“The Beaumonts?” Tony said.

“Yes, I’m subletting. They’ve gone travelling for a while.”

“Hmmm.”

The elevator doors opened. All three of them got out. 

“Perhaps we could get together for a drink, once I’m all settled in.” Quinn said.

“That sounds splendid, Alex. David, write down my phone number and give it to Mr. Quinn.”

David pulled a small pad and pen from his breast pocket, wrote down the number and handed it to Quinn. Quinn folded it and slipped it into his pocket.

“Mighty fine to meet you both.”

“Likewise,” Tony said. “By the way, are you American? I can hear a little Georgia or Mississippi in your voice.”

“Macon, Georgia. You nailed that one, sir.” Quinn said.

Tony laughs. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

Quinn nodded to David and headed off down the hallway toward his apartment. Tony and David started walking the other way. David was uncharacteristically quiet. 

“What’s the matter, boy...cat got your tongue?”

“I’m just a little astonished is all.”

“Oh?”

“Well, the man was a total stranger.”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. That something would pop up. Who’s to say that Mr. Quinn isn’t that thing?”

They stopped at the door to Tony’s apartment.

“I never thought of it that way.” David said.

“Of course you didn’t. I’m the one who thinks like that. Come on, David. A stranger, I assume he’s handsome, moves into your building...he was handsome, wasn’t he?”

“I suppose.”
     “And from my point of view, pardon the bad pun, a little mysterious sounding.”

“Well, I wouldn't go that far?”

“David, Now, I’m astonished. Don’t you know that this is how all the great mysteries have started?”

“What about the stormy night? The creaking floor, all that stuff?”

“Environmental embellishments. All taken care of later. The idea’s the thing.”

~ 5 ~ 

After dinner, Tony sat on a chaise lounge, on his terrace. Beside him on the table was a bottle of bourbon and an ice bucket. In his hand, he held a tall glass of bourbon and soda. He was three sheets to the wind. Olivia opened the screen door and stood in the doorway.

“Ahh, there you are, my dear. Can I pour you a drink?” Tony said.

“No thank you. Perhaps you should consider making that one your last.”

“Why? Are you afraid I’ll get blind drunk and take a swan dive over the railing?” He takes a healthy slug of his bourbon.

“It would seem you’re capable of just about anything these days, providing it hurts me.”

“Now, now. We’re getting a little maudlin, aren’t we? Keep it up and I’m likely to become sober, and we can’t have that.”

Olivia walked over to the adjacent chaise lounge. She sat down facing Tony.

“Tell me something, darling. How much longer am I expected to be the butt of all your pitiful frustration?”

“What’s the matter, love? Does my satire have a little too much bite tonight?”

“I didn’t drive your car into a pole, Tony. I didn’t cause your blindness. It was an accident. A flat tire. And frankly, I don’t know how much more of your abusiveness I can take. I’ve been putting up with it for more than two years now, watching you waste away in an alcoholic haze. Stoic and reclusive by day. Drunken and abusive by night. I love you, Tony, but there is a limit and I am reaching it.”

With that, Olivia got up and walked into the apartment. Tony took off his sunglasses and set them down along with his glass. He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. He reached for his glass and knocked it over. He quickly burst into a rage and knocked the bottle and ice bucket across the terrace. He buried his head in his hands and began to cry softly to himself. Olivia watched from the window behind him.

Tony and David sat at a table in the front window of a deli on the Esplanade. They were eating sandwiches and drinking Cokes.

“I had a dream last night.” Tony said.

“I hate to break this to you, Tony, but most people have dreams every night.” David replied.

“Not me. I haven’t dreamt at all since I lost my sight.”

“You’re kidding.”

“In this dream, I’m standing on a terrace, like my own. But it’s different. There’s a man on the terrace with me. He’s naked and he’s holding a large knife, actually more like a machete or a Korean fighting sword. He’s cursing at me, but it’s in a language I can’t understand. In fact, I’m not even certain it’s a human language--he’s making strange guttural sounds and his voice is booming like thunder. Suddenly he raises the sword and runs across the terrace after me, like a mead-crazed Viking on the rampage.”

“What happened then?”

“I don’t know. There was a blinding flash of light and I woke up in a cold sweat.”

“What do you think it means?”

“I’m not sure. I laid back down and tried to re-capture the dream, so I could know the outcome. But everything was black. Then when I awoke this morning and ummm.…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. I felt different. Usually, I have to drag myself out of bed, if I ever get out at all. But this morning, I just got up and went about my business. I even....you’re not going to believe this, I even walked into the study and switched on the wretched computer.”

“Did you write anything?”

“No...but I…ummm...well, I wanted to. I suppose I was a bit afraid.”

“It has been a long time.”

“Yes it has...but you know, somehow, I feel things might be starting to change.”

David smiled.

“You don’t have any comment?”

“I think it’s great.” 

“You think it’s great, but?” 

“But I’ve heard you talk like this before. Admittedly, it was without the dream stuff, but this is definitely familiar territory.”

“So what do I have to do to prove it’s real?”

“I’d say start writing and see what happens.”

Tony thought about that for a moment. “You’re right as usual. Thank you, Doctor Hopkins. Would you consider being paid for this session with a butterscotch sundae?”

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”

Tony raised his hand to summon the waiter.

The next day, David and Tony were driving along a wide thoroughfare in the city in David’s car. They turned into a hospital.  They parked and took the elevator up to the Office of Dr. Myron Cohen. 

A few minutes later, Tony was sitting behind a high-tech optical scanner. Doctor Cohen was sitting opposite him, running tests. David was sitting off to the side on a sofa, reading a magazine. When Doctor Cohen finished his testing, he nodded to David, who hopped up and walked over to Tony. He took Tony by the arm and led him back to a chair opposite Doctor Cohen’s desk. Doctor Cohen sat down behind his desk and opened a file. He scribbled in it for a moment, then closed it.

“Tony, you've been through a lot in these past couple of years. But we've learned to be honest with each other.”

“You don't love me anymore. Is that it, Myron?”

“Actually, it's closer than you think. The fact of the matter is, Tony, that you don't need me anymore. Your condition has completely stabilized. There's nothing more we can do or try to repair the damage.”

“I see. So what you're telling me is that I am a blind man and that I should just get on with it.” 

“I wouldn't have put it so bluntly, but you've summed it up.” 

“So medical science has given up on me.”

“No. My branch of medical science has done all it can for you, Tony. Unfortunately, it couldn't save your sight. But the odds were slim at best from the outset.”

There was complete silence in the room.

“But there is something I've found out about just recently. An experiment at the Canadian National Institute For The Blind that you might find interesting.”

“The Institute For The Blind. Do you have any idea how terrifying that collection of words sounds to a blind man?”

Cohen ignored the remark. “There is a relatively new sonar guidance system for blind people. Some colleagues of mine are testing it and they could use a high-profile subject like yourself. They are especially looking for formerly sighted people.”

“Ahhh...the nouveau blind.” 

“Yes, Tony. But I've seen some of the results they are producing and they're quite dramatic. It won't give you back your sight, but if you use this system, it could allow you much more freedom of movement and give you greater confidence.” 

“How exactly does it work?” 

“I don't know all the nuts and bolts of the system. But I can give you the number of the project head who can explain it to you, even let you try it out.” 

Doctor Cohen scribbled down a name and a number on a piece of paper and handed it to David. “I know it's not a solution. But, trust me, it’s worth looking into.”

“Well, I’ll certainly take it under advisement, Myron. David, let us not take up any more of the good doctor’s time.” 

Tony rose from his chair. Cohen walked around the desk and took his hand, shaking it. “Tony, I wish you all the best, he said.”

“Thank you, Myron. I appreciate all you've tried to do for me. Even if it hasn't amounted to all that much.”

“We've done what we can, Tony, and we've tried our best.”

“Let’s vamoose, David. Take care, Myron.”

“Thanks, doc.” David said. 

“Take good care of our boy, David.”

A few minutes later, David pulled the car out of the lot and onto University Avenue.

“That experiment Doctor Cohen was talking about sounds very interesting.” David said.

“Appearances can be deceiving.”

“Well, I don't know about that. I'll just hold onto the number. You never know when it will come in handy.”

“What the hell for? I'm not a guinea pig type, David”. 

“No one said you were. I only said that it sounded interesting.”

“Well, perhaps it does to you, since you're not the goddamn guinea pig in question.”

“No, I'm not the guinea pig in question. You’ve got me there, Mr. Smarty Pants.” 

~ 6 ~ 

Later that afternoon, Tony, with his cane in hand, made his way down the hallway of his building feeling the numerals on each apartment door until he came to Alex Quinn’s. He knocked on the door. Quinn answered. He was wearing shorts, running shoes and a T-shirt.

“Mr. Shaw.”

“Tony. Please.”

“Please...come in.”

Quinn took Tony by the elbow and led him into the suite. He showed Tony to a chair in the living room.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Tony said.

“No, I was just loosening up for a run. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Scotch, if you have it, neat, thanks.” 

“Quinn walked over to the small bar in the corner of the living room and poured a scotch.”

“So you’re a runner.”

“I enjoy it, yeah.”

“Are you one of those fanatical marathon types?”

Quinn handed Tony the drink. “Not hardly. I’m lucky if I can handle two miles.”

“I personally believe that exercise shortens your life. You only have so much energy, yet most people choose to squander it.”

“Yes, well, to each his own.”

“Just kidding, of course. I used to run before…this all happened.”

“So what can I do for you, Tony?”

“Well, I came by to invite you for dinner. Tomorrow night, if that’s convenient.”

“Well thank you. Tomorrow night is fine.”

“Just a little neighbourly gesture. God knows none of the other assholes on this floor will invite you. Most of them are just crusty old WASPs who want to be left alone to watch their investments rise and fall all the livelong day.”

“I see. And what about you? Are you a crusty old WASP with a neighbourly streak?”

“Touchè. Tell me, Alex. What is it you do that allows you to sublet the Beaumont’s apartment for a year?”

“I...umm, make deals. You know import, export...that sort of thing.”

“Hmmm. You know, in my line of work that’s often a cover for drug smuggling or human trafficking.”

“I suppose I’d be a damn sight more interesting if I were in either of those businesses. But, no, I’m nothing more than an ordinary entrepreneur.”

“Oh well, then I guess I’ll just have to rescind that dinner invitation. You sound dull as dishwater….Just kidding.”

Tony finished the scotch and got to his feet.

“Till tomorrow then. Say around seven?”

“Seven it is. Can I bring something?”

“Certainly. Whatever you like to drink. Good afternoon, Alex.”

“Good afternoon, Tony.”

Tony felt his way to the door. “Have a good run.” He said as he left.

Quinn closed the door behind him.

Later that evening Tony was sitting on the sofa, listening to a Wagnerian opera. Olivia was pacing around the room. She was fuming but trying hard to contain her emotions. Finally, she walked over and snatched the remote control out of Tony’s hand. She shut off the stereo.

“Let me get this straight. A man moved in down the hall and you invited him to dinner? A man you don’t even know?”

“You may find this somewhat strange, my dear, but in polite society, this is a very common way in which people get to know each other.”

“I see. And did it occur to you to discuss this idea with me before you crashed ahead and invited this person to dinner?”

“Yes, it did. However, I didn’t want to give you the chance to talk me out of it. It’s the first spontaneous social gesture I’ve made in more than two years, and I’m feeling quite proud of myself. Or at least I was until we began this conversation.”

Tony’s comment gave Olivia pause. She flopped down into a chair and took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. It’s just been so long since you’ve behaved this way that I was caught off guard. I think it’s a perfectly delightful idea.”

The sarcasm was not lost on Tony. But he figured he had it coming.

Olivia rose up from her chair. She dropped the remote control device into Tony’s lap and left the room. 

Tony put the remote down on the table and made his way slowly out of the living room and up the stairs to his study, where he sat down at his desk and fumbled around with his computer, finally managing to switch it on. The hard drive hummed low and steady. He reached out and with his fingertips caressed the keyboard, carefully feeling each letter. He pressed down the “T” Key. The computer spoke to him in a phonetically correct female voice. 

“T.” the computer said

Tony hit one of the function keys and began to type. He pressed the control key and the “O” key. 

“Open a file.”

Tony continued to type. The typing was the easy part. The computer pronounced the words in a clumsy phonetic style.

The Mighty Quince by Anthony Shaw.

 

Tony leaned back. He lifted his hands off the keyboard. He could feel them trembling. He chuckled to himself and resumed typing. 

Dexter Quince was a full six feet two in height. Lean and powerful looking. He got to be that way from miles and miles of running that he did and the punishing workouts he put himself through on almost a daily basis. 

Dexter would be considered quite handsome by some standards. But there was a hardness to him. People who lived outside the law were hard like that. His blue-grey eyes could produce a cold stare. His lips could snarl when he got angry. His body could move with the agility of a gymnast if he had to. And sometimes he did. 

But Dexter was no ordinary criminal. He was one of the elite. He had never spent a day behind bars. In fact, for all intents and purposes, he didn’t exist. Dexter Quince was a ghost. And it was that ghost that came to Toronto, to ply his trade in a new market.

Dexter was a thief. But he didn’t steal things. He stole ideas. He didn’t steal from people. He stole from businesses. He stole their secrets and sold them to competitors, whomever they might be. And the reason he was so good at it was that Dexter was much smarter than anyone he stole from.

Tony stopped typing and leaned back in his chair. He gave his neck a crack and stretched his arms. 

“Do you really think he could be an industrial spy?” Tony said to himself, after listening to the playback of what he had just written. “If he was, he surely wouldn’t want anyone to know it. But he is paying a pretty penny to sublet in this building.” 

Tony had conversations like this, with himself, all the time while he was writing his books. He was pleased that he was starting to have them again, after almost two whole years of radio silence, it felt like welcoming back an old friend.

 ~ 7 ~ 

The next afternoon, about two blocks west of the Harbour Castle complex, Alex Quinn walked along the boardwalk. He veered off the path and came to a bench, slightly hidden by a grove of bushes. He sat down on the bench and sipped from the styrofoam coffee cup he was carrying. A few minutes later, another man appeared. He was small and swarthy and dressed in casual but expensive clothing. He had a thin leather bag over his shoulder and was carrying a nylon sports bag. His name was Leo Firestone. Firestone took a seat on the bench beside Quinn. He placed the sports bag on the ground between them.

“Looks like you got out of Montreal none the worse for wear.” Firestone said.

“None the worse.”

“Do you have the merchandise?”

“No, I came all the way down here to break your heart.”

“Cute, but we are, as they say, burning daylight here.”

Firestone pulled a thin laptop out of his bag and opened it up. Quinn handed him a flash drive. He slipped it into the computer, opened the drive and began scrolling.

“Caramba...there’s a lot more here than we bargained for. Is there an upcharge?”

“Is there room for an upcharge?”

“Good question. All I have at the moment is what we agreed on. Let’s see how wet the customer gets.” 

“Fine. See if you can get him. say… 25% wetter.”

“What are you saving up for... a new Jag?”

“Just a rainy day, Leo.”

“That’s very whimsical. By the way, I have another project. Right here in town. Interested?” 

“How big?”

“Low six figures.” 

Quinn let out a quiet whistle. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Firestone said.

Firestone ejected the memory key and slipped it into his pocket. He closed up the computer case and got to his feet. Quinn reached down and picked the sports bag up off the ground. 

“A pleasure, as usual, Alex. Give me a couple of days to get that new brief together for you.”

Quinn nodded. Firestone turned and walked away. Quinn lifted the sports bag onto his lap. He looked around cautiously. He unzipped the top. It was filled with bundles of 50 and 100-dollar bills. He smiled briefly, then zipped the bag and shifted it to the bench beside him. He leaned back on the bench and finished his coffee.

Olivia let David in and he headed upstairs to Tony’s study. David opened the door to the study and walked in. He quietly walked over to the computer. Tony stopped typing. 

“Hello, David.” 

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing much, except that I’m writing a story.”

“Really?”

“Really. And I owe it all to you, young man.” 

David walked over and examined the words on Tony’s computer screen. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean our Mr. Quinn.”

“The new tenant we met a couple of days ago?”

“Yes, our mystery man.”

David started to laugh. “He didn’t look all that mysterious to me.”

“Looks can be deceiving. And in the case of our Mr. Quinn, I think this is especially true.”

“You're serious?”

“Yes indeed, young man. I'm as serious as a Sunday sermon. In fact, I'm so serious, I want to start researching our Mr. Quinn right away. I want to build a full dossier on him. I want you to point that telescope of yours at his apartment and keep a detailed log of his movements. I want to know all I can about him. He's starring in the next Tony Shaw mystery. At least a fictional version of him.””

“Whoa, slow down, Tony. Listen, I’m glad to see you so excited. But you’re asking me to spy on someone I don’t even know.”

“This is how we get to know him.”

“It’s not right.” 

“Well, if you have a moral issue, I’ll pay you ten dollars an hour for your time. Now you’re just doing a job for me. How’s that?”

David took a deep breath. “Come on, Tony.”

“I need you to do this for me, David. I don’t know why, but somehow, I can feel my life coming back. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been obsessed with anything other than my own misery?”

“Too long.”

“Too damn long, indeed. Look, I know this is absurd. It’s a lark, but goddamn it, I’m interested in it. Come on, David, help me out here.”

David thought about it for a moment. He looked at Tony and even though his eyes were hidden, he was beaming with excitement. 
     “All right. But on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“That you check out this sonar experiment Doctor Cohen told us about.” 

“Ahhhh David. Be realistic.”

“That's the deal, Tony. Otherwise, you find yourself another snooper.”

Tony thinks about it for a moment. “All right, then. Deal.”

“And the ten bucks an hour?”

“Also deal.” Tony extended his hand. David slapped it. It was official.

“Give me another hour or so and we’ll go down to the water. I’ll tell you all about what I’m thinking.” Tony said.

“Okay. I’ll go take a peek at Mr. Quinn’s apartment.” 

“That’s the spirit.”

~ 8 ~ 

That evening, at about seven, there was a knock at the door. Olivia answered it. Alex Quinn stood in the doorway. He was holding a plastic shopping bag in one hand and a forty-ounce bottle of tequila in the other. There was a single red rose sticking out of the shopping bag. Olivia froze for a brief moment, just long enough to show pleasant surprise. She snapped out of it quickly.

“Mrs. Shaw, I presume.”

“Please, call me Olivia.”

“Alex Quinn. I’d shake your hand but mine are a little full at the moment.”

Olivia opened the door wider. “Please, come in, Alex.”

“I trust I’m not too early. Or late.” Quinn strode past her. 

“No. Dinner’s about half an hour away.”

Quinn walked to the small bar in the corner of the living room. He set the tequila and his shopping bag down. He extracted the rose and walked back to Olivia. He handed her the rose and graciously kissed her hand.

“You’re a lovely woman, Olivia. I’m jealous of your husband.”

Tony appeared at the top of the staircase. “Jealous, indeed.” 

Quinn continued to hold onto Olivia’s hand. She made no attempt to disengage. In fact, she appeared to find the contact quite pleasant. Tony moved down the stairs as gracefully as his condition would allow.

“Yes sir. I must admit I have fallen hopelessly in love with your wife. I will make made passionate love to her on the sofa, while you sit in the wing chair nonchalantly listening to, what, Debussy?”

“Really, now. You make me sound like some sort of sex object.” Olivia said.

Tony found the sofa and sat down. 

“Apologies madame. That was the last thing I intended. Think of it more as a lame attempt at humour.” Quinn said, trying to sound humble.

Quinn walked back to the bar and began to pull limes out of his shopping bag. He also pulled out a knife and began sectioning the limes, tossing the sections into a ceramic dish.

“It’s true that the North American culture is one of the few in the world in which women find it objectionable to be praised for their femininity and sexuality.” Quinn said.

Olivia sat down on the sofa, but not too close to Tony. 

“There’s a difference between praise and objectification. Too many men in this world don’t make the distinction.” Olivia said.

 Quinn walked back across the room with his tequila bottle, the lime sections, a salt shaker and three shot glasses on a tray. He set the tray down on the coffee table and sat himself down in the wing chair.

“Oh, I’m certain all men are capable of making the distinction. Some just choose not to, right Tony?” Quinn said.

“Hold on there, mister. Don’t go painting me into that corner with you.” Tony replied.

“And besides, I have already apologized for my faux pas.”

Olivia picked up the tequila bottle and examined it. “Jose Cuervo?” 

“You’ve brought tequila?” Tony asked.

“Yes I have and we’re all going to have a drink to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” 

“I don’t know. Our meeting. Good neighbours. The warm summer day. Take your pick.”

“Sounds good to me.” 

Quinn poured out three shots and handed one each to Olivia and Tony. Tony picked up his glass. “It’s been a long time.” he said.

Quinn picked up the salt shaker. He licked his hand just above the crook of his thumb and sprinkled some salt on it. Olivia licked her hand and Quinn sprinkled a little salt on it. He offered Olivia a lime segment. She took two and passed one to Tony, who knew the drill.

“Drink the shot. Then rub the lime wedge in the salt and suck on it.” Quinn said

Suddenly their little tête à tête was broken by Tony slamming the shot glass down on the table. “Damn.” Tony exclaimed.

“Ooooo. Let’s do that again.” Olivia said.

 Quinn poured another round.

Half an hour later, they were all a little drunk. Olivia had made a chicken Marango dinner with wild rice and a Caesar salad, which they all ate with incredible gusto. They chatted away, oblivious of all but the moment. They also killed off two bottles of expensive white wine. 

During dinner, Tony peppered Quinn with questions and was quietly amazed at how little of himself Quinn was willing to reveal. Other than his educational background. Bachelor's degree from Cornell and the fact that he had lived for a time in several different countries,  which he described in great detail, Tony was able to get nothing out of Quinn that he would consider juicy or questionable in any way. 

The fact that Quinn was obviously a master of obfuscation got Tony thinking that he was either some sort of outlaw or someone who held his privacy in a rather high regard. In short, Quinn, in Tony’s mind, was just dull enough to be intriguing. Which, in point of fact, made him the kind of character that Tony had never really written about before.

After dinner, Olivia served coffee. This time, Tony took the wing chair and Olivia and Quinn sat close to each other on the sofa. Every now and then, Quinn slid his hand delicately along Olivia’s thigh. Olivia, who was properly soused, paid little attention. 

Later on, after Olivia, in a burst of energy, decided to clean up, Tony and Quinn went out to the balcony and sat on the lounge chairs. Tony lit a small cigar and offered one to Quinn, which he politely refused.

“I’ve got to tell you, Alex,” Tony said. “You certainly know how to party.”

“I ought to. It was my major in college.”

“Where you got your dreaded Business Administration degree?”

“I never did study business in school. Majored in partying and minored in philosophy.”

“Strange bedfellows, philosophy and import-export.”

“I’ll say.”

“Yes…So import-export? Sounds rather vague wouldn’t you say?”

“Otherwise known as drug dealing or human trafficking?”

Tony chuckled.“Well, you have to admit, you haven’t been forthcoming with many details. What’s a person to think?”

“You might think I’m a considerate guest who wouldn’t want to bore his host with some very dull shop talk.”

“But a guest who would like to make love to the host’s wife on the sofa, to the strains of Debussy.”

It was Quinn’s turn to laugh now. “Touchè.”

Tony put out his cigar. Olivia appeared in the doorway of the terrace. 

“Would anyone like some more coffee?”

“Yes, I’d love some.” Quinn said.

“I don’t know about you people. But all this alcohol has just about drained my batteries. I’m going to turn in.”

Quinn got to his feet and Tony held out his hand for a low-five. Quinn slapped his hand.

“Goodnight, Tony. I promise to send Olivia up in a few minutes.”

“See that you do, dear boy.”

Tony walked by Olivia. “Goodnight, darling.” she said

“Goodnight, darling.”

Tony lumbered up the stairs, grumbling to himself.

Olivia and Quinn entered the kitchen. Olivia poured them both a cup of coffee.

“Your husband’s a fascinating man.” 

“Yes, that’s true. I’ve never been able to figure him out completely.”

“It must be awfully difficult…living with him.”

“It’s tolerable.”

“But it must be lonely. He’s a tortured soul, He’s living almost totally inside himself.” 

“How do you know that?”

“Anyone who ignores a woman like you has to be either blind or completely self-absorbed. Or both.”

“Well, your diagnosis is correct, doctor. There is very little room for me these days in the imploding ego of Tony Shaw.”

Olivia stared into her coffee cup. Quinn put his down. Gently, he took Olivia’s cup and put it down on the counter. He took her hand and led her out onto the terrace. Quinn walked Olivia to the edge. They looked out over the blue-blackness of the moonlit lake.

“I know how you feel because I once had a lover who was just like your husband in a lot of ways, except, of course, she was female.”

“That’s a relief.”

“That she was female?”

“No. That you can empathize with what I’ve been going through. I’d begun to think I was, well, all alone in that department.”

“I know what you’re going through, Olivia. I know you’re feeling isolated and alone. He’s cut you right out of his world. I watched the two of you tonight. There’s a...a separateness to your relationship. But you can’t totally blame Tony. It’s likely that you remind him of the time before his accident when his life when both your lives were ideal.”

“I paid a psychologist thousands to find that out. But no one can tell me how to put things back together again.”

“Maybe that will never happen.”

Olivia cast a sharp glance at Quinn. “Maybe, you should be thinking about leaving him.” he said.

“Oh, God, I could never do that. No, it’s out of the question.”

“Olivia...a life is a terrible thing to waste.”

Olivia began to cry. Quinn gathered her up in his arms. He held her closely for a moment. Then he kissed her forehead. In a matter of seconds, they were locked together in a passionate kiss. Quinn’s hands roamed freely around Olivia’s body. He pulled her down onto the chaise lounge and they made love there. 

On the other side of the courtyard, David was looking through his telescope, and viewed the entire scene. When the going started to get hot and heavy he turned away, feeling both guilt and sadness.

Upstairs, Tony was lying on the bed, but he was not asleep. He was listening. He heard a strange sound. He got to his feet and walked to the door of the bedroom. He silently opened it. He listened again, cocking his head like a dog. 

He moved out into the hallway and down to the top of the stairs. He could hear much more clearly now the sounds of heavy breathing and passion drifting in through the open terrace door. Tony took a deep breath and wandered back to his bedroom.

~ 9 ~ 

The next morning Tony was sitting at the computer writing furiously. He was wearing a headset so that only he could hear the computer’s voice.  After a moment there was a knock at the door. 

“Tony. Are you all right?” Olivia said from outside the door.

Tony removed the headset and quickly turned off the monitor. Olivia opened the door and peered inside.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Are you writing?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.”

“That’s wonderful. Can I get you some coffee?”

“Actually, no. I’m fine.”

“Oh, all right then. I’ll just leave you to your work.”

“Thank you.”

Olivia backed out of the room, closing the door. Tony put his headphones back on, turned back to the keyboard and continued to write.

That night, David was perched on a stool behind his telescope. It was pointed across the courtyard at Alex Quinn’s apartment. David talked into a small Sony digital recorder. Quinn was lying on the bed, wearing only a pair of boxer shorts. He was smoking a cigarette and staring at the TV. The room was dark save for the light of a small lamp beside the bed and the TV screen.

David spoke into the Sony: 

“Wednesday, July 9. Surveillance Day 3... 11:30 PM report. Subject Alex Quinn. Subject is lying on his bed. He is sipping from a tall glass, could be beer. He appears to be watching television. He’s a dull guy, except for the cute lions on his boxer shorts.”

Suddenly Quinn jumped to his feet. He picked up the intercom phone, nodded and then hung up. He pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt. Then he dashed down the stairs.

Wait a minute. Quinn’s up. He’s answering the intercom. He’s getting dressed, rather quickly.

Quinn walked down to the first floor and opened the door. Leo Firestone entered, dressed in a three-piece suit and tie.

“A man has entered the apartment. This guy’s got to be a lawyer or banker or something like that.” 

Quinn showed Firestone into the living room. He made Firestone a drink.

“The stranger is a scotch drinker. And he seems to be doing all the talking. Quinn is just sitting very quietly and listening.”

Firestone handed Quinn a document, which Quinn did not look at. Firestone quickly finished his drink, got to his feet and walked to the door. The two men shook hands and Quinn showed him out.

“The scotch drinker is leaving. Looks like you were right about our Mr. Quinn after all. There is a bit of mystery about him.”

David closed his curtain and fell into bed.

The next morning, David and Tony were sitting on a bench on the waterfront. Tony was wearing a set of headphones and listening to David’s recording. Tony shut off the recorder and removed the earphones.

“Well? What do you think?” David asked

“Hmmm…on the one hand, I think my intuition was correct, but then I never doubted that.”

“And on the other hand?”

“On the other hand, our Mr. Quinn could be involved in something that is, at the very least, unethical, at the most, downright illegal.” 

“Or not.” David said.

“Yes, well, I prefer the downright illegal part myself. Of course, if I’m right and our Mr. Quinn really is up to no good, well then, we simply have to find out what that is.”

“We’re making a lot of assumptions here.” 

“Yes we are, and that’s why we need to follow this story.”

“But Tony…”

“In for a penny…In for a pound, David. End of conversation. Understood?” Tony barked.

David stops and reconsiders his position. “Yes sir.”

“You will keep your eye on Quinn and see what he does. There’s nothing illegal about that. And who knows what it might reveal.” Tony said, making a solid effort to tone it down.

David and Tony got up. David took Tony by the elbow and led him along the promenade toward the apartment complex.

“You know,” Tony said. “It’s quite reassuring that I can still trust my instincts…that they haven’t gone AWOL on me.”

“I’m glad you’re writing again. I’m sure that even if this is nothing you can create some dandy fiction out of it.” David said.

“Yes, I think I can.”

Later that evening, Tony sat at the computer. He was wearing his headset and writing away feverishly. He was keenly aware that the narrative he was creating was quite a distance from the place he had started. But his instincts, honed from years of following his muse faithfully, kept telling him to stay on this path. He could always revisit the original thought later.

They hadn’t meant it to happen. But they had been drawn to each other through the whiskey haze and the desperate feelings they both wore like manacles of gold... 

Downstairs in the living room, Olivia and Quinn were sitting on the sofa together. Quinn slipped out of his shirt. He unfastened Olivia’s robe and his hand explored her body freely. They began to kiss, softly at first then building with an unrestrained passion, as Quinn lowered Olivia’s body down and climbed onto her.

There was quiet conversation. The electricity of fingertips making contact. The shedding of clothing. The contagious warmth of flesh on flesh. The splendid art form made by a man and a woman in the heat of their desperate passion.

Tony removed the headset. He got up and walked to the door, He opened it slightly listening to the sounds drifting up from the floor below. He then went back to his desk.

The nefarious thrill of knowing he was just thirty feet away, sleeping off another in the long series of nightly drunks his life had become. The firestorm of their passion took on a wild and reckless life of its own, a life that neither of them would ever learn to control.

Over the next week, the routine between Quinn and Olivia repeated itself almost nightly. They were playing a demented cat-and-mouse game with Tony, using his disability to fuel the excitement of their illicit affair. 

 ~ 10 ~ 

It was well past midnight, but David had always been a bit of a night owl. Three days earlier, he went to a computer store and bought himself the digital hookup, that would allow him to see whatever he pointed his telescope at on his computer screen. He sat on his bed reading a paperback with his laptop beside him and a view of Quinn’s living room. David chatted into his tape recorder.

Surveillance Day 7 ...11:40 

AM. Subject: Alex Quinn.

Through the scope, he saw Quinn enter the apartment. He looked at his watch. He poured himself a drink. He extracted a cigarette from a case on his living room coffee table. He paced around a bit. He then came out onto the terrace and leaned over the balcony. He turned and walked into the apartment. He picked up his phone. He talked very briefly. He put the phone down. He climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom. He quickly began to change clothes. 

This could be the break I’ve been waiting for. 

David grabbed his recorder and left the room.

A few minutes later, David was sitting in his Chrysler convertible with the top up and the lights off. He was parked by the exit of the apartment complex's parking garage. The doors to the garage opened. Quinn’s Jaguar exited and turned right onto the Esplanade. David followed at a discreet distance. 

Quinn took a circuitous route through the downtown area of the city. But his pace was leisurely, so he was easy to follow. Finally, Quinn parked in an alleyway off a side street in the warehouse district. It was an area where some of the big distilleries were located. 

David parked a few blocks away and followed Quinn on foot. 

Quinn walked along a high steel mesh fence that surrounded one of the distilleries, with a small leather bag slung over his shoulder. He came to a gate, which appeared to be locked. Quinn reached into his jacket and pulled out a small metal tool. He quickly picked the lock, opened the gate and went inside, leaving the gate chained but unlocked.

David followed cautiously into the distillery warehouse, which was filled with cases of liquor ready for shipping. He had no idea of which way to go, so he simply moved straight ahead. There was an ungodly silence in the building. When he was about halfway down the aisle, he heard a smashing of glass simultaneous with two gunshots, pinks really, which he thought might have been a silencer of some sort,  about two seconds apart. David stopped dead and listened, holding his breath. 

In an office on the second level, Quinn copied the files he was told to look for, He then skillfully erased any sign of the activity from the computer, and left the room. part the body of the man he had just killed.

A moment later, David heard footsteps travelling down a set of steel stairs, then moving towards him swiftly. 

David slipped onto one of the shelves and pulled himself in behind some cases. He saw Quinn’s legs, or so he thought, moving past him at a quick pace. David waited, fighting the urge to panic and run from the building. He stayed dead still until there was nothing but silence. 

David then pulled himself up and headed up the aisle toward the stairs. He looked up and saw a row of glass-walled offices. He cautiously climbed the stairs and walked along the row of offices until he came to a corner office.He peered in to see a man lying on the floor. He was lying face-up in a pool of blood. He had a bullet hole in his head and another in his chest. 

David stood for a long time staring at the man. He was in a state of shock. He had never seen a murdered body before. Soon he calmed down a bit. He bent over and picked up the man’s wallet, which was lying on the floor, obviously having slipped out of his jacket pocket when he went down. According to his ID, the man’s name was Jason Samuel. As David looked through the wallet, he discovered a small stack of business cards. Evidently, he was the owner of something called SDT, which stood for Samuel Digital Technology. 

David pocketed the wallet and made a beeline for the doorway by which he entered the building. When he got to the fence he saw that the gate was locked. He panicked for a moment, then headed back to the loading dock and the far end of the building. He thought about leaving by the front door, but he was pretty sure that would be locked or there might have even been a guard there. He then followed the fence line and eventually found a small area of the fence close to the building where the razor wire was just hanging down instead of sitting fastened to the top of the fence. He scrambled up and over it and made his way down the street to his car.

He drove back, nervously dictating the details of the story into his recorder.

“I followed the subject as he headed east along Faraday Street to the warehouse district of the city…”

The next morning, David was sitting by the window of Tony’s office. Tony was at his desk listening to David’s recorder. Jason Samuels’ wallet was sitting on Tony’s desk.

“…I climbed the fence cautiously, got to my car and headed home.”

Tony switched off the recorder. He turned in his chair. “Where are you?”

“Over by the window.” David said.

“Well, you’ve bitten off more than you can chew here, my friend.”

“I guess I was just more curious than I thought I’d be.”

“Now you know where the adage, ‘curiosity killed the cat’, came from.”

“That’s very cute, but it doesn’t help me much.”

“Help you? You don’t need help.”

“Oh really? I only witnessed a murder, Tony.”

“No, David, you didn’t. It’s right there on the recording. You didn’t see anybody kill anybody. You can’t conclusively prove that Quinn did anything.”

“Come on. I know he killed that guy.”

“There’s a very fine line between what you ‘know’ and what you can prove. Unfortunately, the law only cares about what you know if you can prove it beyond a reasonable doubt.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Let me spell it out for you. Suppose you go to the police and tell them your story...play them your tape...bare your soul to them. They go out and investigate. They talk to Quinn, who by the way is a very slick character, as most people in his line of work are, will undoubtedly have some sort of air-tight alibi. Well, one thing will invariably lead to another and he will eventually find out that you followed him there that night. I wouldn’t give you a nickel for your chances of survival after that.” 

“What about the wallet?”

“If anything, taking the wallet only serves to make you the prime suspect, David.”

David took a deep breath and let it all sink in. “So you think I should just be silent.”

“Barring a miracle, it’s your only option.” Tony said. 

David sat and stared out the window. He was going through a living hell and it showed on his face. “So we let this guy just get away with murder?”

“I didn’t say that. And you don't know that there’s not a whole lot of other evidence that will get him caught eventually.”

David walked across the room. He picked up the player and walked to the door. He was extremely upset and nervous. Then he turned to face Tony.

“I know it’s probably the smartest thing to do, to leave this thing alone. But I don’t know if I can just let somebody get away with murder. Especially if it’s someone who’s fooling around with your wife.”

David stormed out of the room and bounded down the stairs. David’s words hit Tony like a ton of bricks. He got to his feet and moved swiftly and clumsily across the room.

“David! David! Get your ass back here right now.”

Tony got out into the hall. He felt his way along. He got to the top of the stairs. He started down them and, for a brief moment, lost then quickly regained his balance. But it was enough of a fright to stop him in his tracks. He sat down on the stairs and stared helplessly straight ahead. David stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

“David!” 

“No, Tony. I’ve said too much already.” 

“You’ve seen this? You’re certain.”

“Yes and yes I’m certain. And I’m really sorry you had to find out about it this way. It was one of the dumbest things I’ve ever said.”

 Tony found his way back to his office. He flopped into his chair. His anger and pain were welling up inside him like a volcano. David appeared in the doorway.

“David, it’s all right. Please just leave me now.” 

“As long as you promise not to do anything stupid.” 

“David, in case it has somehow escaped you, I’m a blind man. There’s not a hell of a lot I can do, stupid or otherwise..”

“Oh, you’ll probably think of something. But I’m going to assume you won’t act on it.”

Late that night, Tony lay in bed in a half-sleep state. From somewhere downstairs he heard noises. He rolled over and reached across the bed, feeling for Olivia, but she wasn’t there. He got out of bed and felt his way out of the bedroom, down the hallway then down the stairs into the foyer. 

Tony moved around the main floor of the apartment. He heard Olivia. She seemed to be moaning, but not in a painful way. He also heard another sound. A lower, more guttural sound. In the dark, he moved around, totally familiar with his surroundings. He sniffed the air like a bloodhound. He entered the kitchen and felt around the counter. Two empty brandy snifters. He re-entered the living room following the scent. He walked to the sofa. 

Suddenly a technicolour vision exploded in his brain. A vision of Olivia and Quinn making love on the sofa. He could feel it. It shocked him to the marrow. From out on the terrace, as Olivia and Quinn watched silently, Tony trudged up the stairs. A tear came to Olivia’s eye. 

Tony found his way back up to his office and sat down, caught in the emotional crossfire between uncontrollable rage and profound sadness.

 ~ 11 ~ 

The next night, David sat in his room staring out the window. With one hand he absently fooled with the small recorder. Occasionally, he leaned in and peeked through his telescope. The telescope was fixed on Tony's study, where Tony sat typing.

In Tony’s study, a bottle of brandy and a snifter were sitting on the desk beside his keyboard, as he typed.

Sitting there, staring out the window into the cold black night, he had never felt so lost and alone. His mind feverishly ran the gamut of possible actions and probable outcomes. He steadily grew more and more depressed, as he weighed the cost of doing the right thing and perhaps getting killed for his trouble against the cost of doing nothing and living with remorse for the rest of his life.

Tony leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he picked up the snifter and took a sip of the brandy.

The following morning, Tony sat at the dining room table, with a cup of coffee in front of him. He was looking quite sullen. He ran his finger absently around the rim. Olivia entered the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. She sat down at the table with Tony.

“It’s a lovely day. Do you have anything planned?”

“I heard you last night.” he said

“You heard what?”

“You. And him. Making love.”

Olivia sipped her coffee. She is deep in thought. She was silent for a period of time.

“I won’t deny it. He…”

“He what?” 

“He pays attention to me. He treats me like a woman. Something you haven’t done since your accident. Something I never realized I needed so badly, until you withdrew it altogether. I knew I was risking your anger but…”

 Tony cut her off. “I’m not angry. In fact, I’m relieved. And I’m happy for you. I’ve toiled like a slave to get past this disgusting self-pitying behaviour. To get on with my life. To get back to caring about more than just myself. But it appeared for the longest time that I had somehow lost my passion. And now, now that I have it back, it appears I am losing you. Are you going to leave me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You mean you might stay?”

“If there was something to stay for I would.”

“Will you continue to carry on with him?”

“That depends…on you.”

Tony got up from the table. He walked out of the kitchen and headed up the stairs. A few moments later he was writing again.

There was an anger rumbling deep inside him. The primal essences of fear and hate, disgust and self-pity roiled around and around, a putrid, bubbling witch's brew. He knew the lover was evil. He knew that having him in his life brought with it a cancerous karma, one which could destroy them all eventually. 

But he was weakened by guilt and helpless against the inevitability of this series of events. Inside, he screamed loud and long, praying the gestalt would somehow cleanse him. But when the screaming ceased and all was quiet, he knew nothing had changed. That would only happen when he could arm himself and take action.

Tony picked up the phone. He punched in a number. As he did so, David entered the study. 

“Hey.” David said.

Tony quickly disconnected. “David. I was just calling you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. We need to talk about a mutual problem.” 

“Mr. Quinn?”

“Yes.”

“All right, we can talk in the car.”

“And where are we going?”

“Well…it’s time for you to live up to your end of our bargain. We're going to see about getting you equipped with radar.”

“Now wait just a minute here.”

David walked over and removed Tony’s headset from his head.

“A deal's a deal, boss. And I know you are a highly principled man who honours his commitments under all circumstances. Besides, I’ve already made the appointment.” 

Tony took a deep breath. “You know, you’re a pretty devious young man.” He then got to his feet and off they went.

 ~ 12 ~ 

In the car heading up Bayview Avenue Tony said. “I know you must think I’m a coward, for letting Olivia carry on with this man in such a way.” Tony said.

“No, I don't think you're a coward. I don't know much about these things but you don't have to be a genius to see that Olivia is lonely and that this Quinn is giving her something you're not at the moment.”

“The problem is that I think…well, I am, starting to get my life back in order and I don’t really want to have this cost me my marriage.”

“Have you explained this to Olivia?”

“Not in so many words.”

“Then maybe you are a coward.” 

“Maybe, but I do want to apologize for my behaviour regarding this Quinn fellow. I was the one who got you into this in the first place with my childish machinations and I acted quite selfishly when you told me of your dilemma.”

“And?”

“And...well, having had a chance to think about it, I agree with you that something should be done.”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about it too, but I can’t figure out what to do.”

“Well, some incriminating evidence might be helpful. Like the murder weapon showing up on the desk of the investigator. Perhaps our Mr. Quinn keeps a journal of his nefarious activities. Or at the very least an appointment book tying him to the dead fellow. Or…perhaps a piece of evidence that we already have.”

“That makes sense. But it also means getting into Quinn’s apartment for long enough to do what we have to do.”

“Indeed it does.”

“And how would you suggest we go about doing that?”

“Horses for courses, my boy. And it just so happens I know the perfect horse for this course.” 

The CNIB was located in the large manor house of an estate on Bayview Avenue. David pulled up and parked in front. David led Tony to the front door. Inside, David walked over to a receptionist and briefly talked to her. Tony stood still in the centre of the large foyer. A moment later a statuesque, black woman in a lab coat came down the spiral staircase. Her name was Dr. Claire Singleton.

“You must be David Hopkins,” she said to David. “I'm Dr. Singleton. But please call me Claire.”

“All right, Claire. This is Tony Shaw.”

Dr. Singleton took Tony’s hand and shook it gently. “Mr. Shaw, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Doctor Singleton, umm, Claire.”

“I'm a big fan of your work.”

“Thank you. Will I end up being a big fan of yours?”

“That depends.” She took Tony gently by the arm and led him down the hallway.

“On what, Doctor?” Tony asked.

“On you, of course. And how badly you want it to work for you.”

The three of them walked toward the back of the building.

Dr. Singleton, Tony, and David entered a large room. It appeared to be nothing more than an elaborate computer room, with several terminals all at separate desks. People sat at these desks working busily and talking quietly into headsets. 

They moved through the room to a glass-walled office at the far end. Dr. Singleton took a seat behind her desk. David showed Tony to a chair and they both sat down. Dr. Singleton reached into her desk drawer and drew out a pair of sunglasses with a small disc-shaped electronic device, about three inches in diameter on a thin chain.

“This is it?”  David picked up the glasses and looked at them. “It's just a pair of sunglasses.” He put them back down. 

“Not exactly.” Dr. Singleton said. “They’re equipped with a very small, very powerful microprocessor chip and small vibration pads on the inside of each of the arms.” She picked up the disc. “This is the sonar sender. It radiates in a fairly narrow band, with a selective oscillating wave arc of 90 degrees.”

“What does that mean?” David asked.

Dr. Singleton got up and walked to a chalkboard behind her desk. She drew a diagram to illustrate what she was talking about as she explained the workings of the sonar device to David and Tony.

“Essentially the sonar device, which is the medallion you wear around your neck, sweeps back and forth in front of you as you are moving, in a 90-degree arc. When it echo-locates an object that is too close for comfort, it sends a message to the vibration pads in the glasses. Your brain hears this as a mid-range series of blips which increase in frequency as you move closer to the object that could be your way. It’s basically like the sonar system on a submarine. As you veer away, the blips become quieter and less frequent, as the object moves out of the sensor’s range. It's really that simple.”

“I can see that, pardon the pun,” Tony said. “It’s very clever in theory. But how does it work with real people? Are they able to adapt to it readily?”

“Surprisingly enough they are. Obviously, this isn't a perfect system. And we're still maybe a year and several refinements from actually making it commercially available to the blind community, but it is performing well in nearly all our tests.”

“I would imagine that moving objects would present some difficulty.” Tony said. 

“Yes and no. It depends on their speed and number and, of course, the direction they are moving.” 

“In other words, I wouldn't want to be relying on this device to get me across a busy intersection.”

“No. Not yet. But it has proven successful in helping people avoid others on moderately busy sidewalks. But primarily, it makes navigating in enclosed spaces much easier.” 

David handed Tony the glasses. He put them on, then took them off again.

“This is very interesting, Dr. Singleton. Is there somewhere I can take it for a test drive?”

“Sure.” 

Dr. Singleton took the sonar device and led David and Tony out a side door into the rear grounds of the institute.

Tony stood by himself in the middle of the grounds. He was wearing the glasses and had the sonar device around his neck. David stood several yards away, watching. 

“All right, Mr. Shaw. Just start walking in any direction.” Dr. Singleton said.

Tony started to walk. He heard the sound of the sonar. A slow beep. As Tony approached a bench, the beeps increased in frequency and Tony instinctually stopped. He reached out with his cane and tapped the bench. After that, he quickly began to maneuver his way around the grounds, developing confidence as he went. With only one or two minor fumbles, he was able to cruise the grounds fairly effortlessly. Finally, Dr. Singleton and David stopped him.

“Most impressive, Mr. Shaw. I’ve never seen anyone adapt so quickly to the device.”

“Well, I have to admit, it's quite a piece of hardware. Very quickly, you start to visualize things coming at you. I could imagine couple of refinements just after the first few minutes with the device.” 

“Dr. Cohen said you'd be an ideal candidate. Not to mention the PR value of having someone like yourself in the program.”

“Well, I have to admit I was skeptical when Dr. Cohen told me about it. But now…not so much.” he said, sounding quite positive.

“You moved like a champion out there, Tony.” David said.

“Yes I did, didn't I? So what would you want from me, Doctor? Detailed observations I assume”

“Yes. As detailed as you can make them.” Dr. Singleton said in a voice that betrayed her excitement.

 ~ 13 ~ 

Quinn sat at his desk importing a file from the memory key into his computer. When he was finished, he named the file "HWD/7/21". He then loaded a clean memory key and copied the file to it. While he was doing that his phone rang. Quinn picked it up before it had a chance to ring twice.

“Yes. Oh hello, Leo I’ve been expecting your call for two days now...One o’clock…Fine.”

Quinn cradled the phone. He leaned back in his chair. He ejected the memory key and got up to get dressed.

At a few minutes after one, Quinn entered a downtown steakhouse called The Elgin House, and talked to the Maitre’d. He was shown to a table at the far corner of the terrace. There were two men in expensive suits sitting there. One man was Leo Firestone. Firestone rose and shook hands with Quinn.

“Alex. Good to see you. Say hello to Rolland Drew.”

“Mr. Drew.” Quinn said.

Drew did not bother to get up. He merely nodded and folded a copy of the Wall Street Journal that he had been reading.

“Mr. Drew is here to make certain that we are selling him exactly what we said you would.”

“And what exactly qualifies you for that honour, Mr. Drew?”

“With all due respect, that’s really none of your concern.” Drew said. His accent was British. His attitude was quite arrogant. 

“You’re right. I apologize. Just making conversation.”

“Why don’t you show Mr. Drew the report, Alex,” Firestone said. “Then we can get on to a nice pleasant lunch.”

Quinn sat down, took out the memory key and a hard copy of the report. and handed it to Drew.

“Yes, Mr. Quinn, why don’t you show us the bit of work that cost Jason Samuel his life.”

“You know, I read about that.” Quinn said. “I got there at about eleven, opened the computer with the password he gave me and downloaded the files. I was supposed to meet him there, but he was nowhere to be seen. So I left. I assumed he would contact me at some point. But I heard nothing. And with all due respect, I resent the suggestion that I had anything to do with his demise, which according to the news reports didn’t happen until a few hours later. Maybe your man Samuel was double dipping. Happens a lot in this business. He was a crook after all.”

“Your point is well taken,” Drew said. “But it doesn’t alter the fact we have been exposed to unnecessary potential liability in the acquisition of this information.”

“Unnecessary liability, Mr. Drew, is having the shit kicked out of you in the marketplace because you were aced by your main competitor. As much as I sympathize with your situation, it has nothing to do with me.” Quinn said in the firmest voice he could muster.

Drew scanned the document quickly and looked up. He smiled briefly.

“Pay the man, Leo.”

“Sure, Rolland. But let’s have some lunch first.” 

“I think not. Good day to you, gentlemen.”

Drew delved back into the report. Quinn and Firestone left the restaurant. They walked across the parking lot to Firestone’s BMW.

“That guy’s some piece of work.” Quinn said.

“Old British money. They just don’t come with a bigger pickle up their ass than that.”

“You’d think the guy would be just a little bit grateful. Instead, he treats us like shit.”

“To a dude like that, you and I are shit, Alex.”

They reached Firestone’s BMW. He opened the trunk and took out another nylon sports bag and handed it to Quinn. 

“How much, exactly?” Quinn asked.

“Four hundred thousand.”

“Thank you.”

The two men shook hands and Quinn walked back to his car, hoping he’d never have to meet up with Drew again.

~ 14 ~

Tony sat at his desk, writing, with his headset on. David was in a chair by the window, reading a paperback. Beside the keyboard sat the sonar set in a box with an Institute For The Blind logo emblazoned on it. 

Revenge, so a wise man once said, is sweet. And there was going to be no sweeter revenge in all the world than this. The thought of it made him giddy with delight. In his mind’s eye, he played out the scenario over and over again. And long after the point where he would normally become bored and restless, he found himself still enraptured by the concept of it. Every nerve ending in his body trembled and twitched in a very special way. He wondered if this was indeed some sort of strange modern-day nirvana and not just the unadulterated sweetness of impending revenge.

The phone rang. Tony picked it up. “Hello, George. Yes, send him up by all means.”

Tony put down the phone. He shut down the computer and got up from his chair. “David, our guest has arrived.”

David set down his paperback and he and Tony headed downstairs and walked toward the door. A few moments later, David showed Stone Riley in. 

Stone Riley was a lean and powerfully built man in his mid-fifties. His face was hard as steel, but his hands were strangely delicate looking. He talked like a character from a late 1940s B movie.

They all walked to the dining room table and sat down.

“Hey there, Mr. Shaw. Howya been keepin’?”

Riley walked over and clasped Tony’s outstretched hand.

“I’m doing all right, Riley, all things considered.”

“I heard about your peepers. Tough break.”

“Water under the bridge. Tell me how have you been?”

“Same old. Same old. You know. A couple of busts but no time in the clink. Insufficient evidence. And no witnesses to speak of. Nature of the beast.”

Riley leaned over and spoke confidentially to Tony. “Is the kid OK, Mr. Shaw? I mean, can we talk?”

“By all means, young David here is my protégé and part of the reason I called you.”

“Well, I owe you a big one, Mr. Shaw. So whatever you need, just consider it done.”

“David, Mr. Stone Riley is one of the world’s premier cat burglars. They’re called home invaders or some such disreputable term nowadays. The craft appears to have lost its glamorous facade. However, Mr. Riley can pick virtually any lock that’s pickable and he is a fifth-degree black belt in Tai Kwon Do for defence.”

“Seventh degree, Mr. Shaw. We ain't seen each other in a while.”

“I stand corrected. Anyway, the job we have for you is a relatively simple one. It’s an apartment on this floor. We’re looking for a gun, and anything that will connect the occupant to a Jason Samuel. Journal, day book, cancelled checks, computer disk whatever.”

“You know what kind of computer he has?”

“It's a MacBook. David said. “He’s never used a password to open it as far as I can see.”

“Mac with no password. Should be a lead pipe cinch.” 

“I must also tell you, Tony continued, “That the occupant could be keeping a large sum of what we can assume is untraceable cash somewhere in the apartment. Most likely a safe in a closet.

Riley sat calmly listening.

“So what's the deal?”

“Any cash will be a two-way split between you and us. I’m more interested in the evidence.”

“Fair enough. When do you want the job done and how long will I have on the inside?”

“As soon as we can arrange to have the subject distracted, and you should have at least two hours.” 

“Any alarms to deal with?”

“Never saw him set one.” David said

“That’s plenty of time.”

“I’ll need a pass key to get into the garage and then into the building.”

 David handed Riley a thin metal card. 

“You wouldn’t have a key to the guy’s digs?” Riley said, jokingly to David.

“You’ll have to do some work, Riley.” Tony said.

“Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, you give me a couple hours notice and I’ll be here with bells on.”

Riley shook hands with Tony and then David. David showed him out. Tony came downstairs and sat down on the sofa. David paced around nervously.

“What’s the matter David? You seem agitated?”

“No, I’m fine really. Just a little wired.”

“I don’t blame you. But you can leave the rest of this to me. Hopefully, we can have our Mr. Quinn safely locked up before the week’s out.”

“That’s great, really. There’s just one thing bothering me.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, it’s this guy Samuel. The guy I found dead.” 

“What about him?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s still bugging me that I can’t go to the police.”

“David, it’s obvious that Quinn is extremely professional. Going head to head with him at this point would be an exercise in futility, not to mention the risk to life and limb.” 

“I know all that. It’s just…you know, in my head all the time.”

“That will fade, David. But remember, the police are not the only form of justice we have at our disposal. Part of the reason I called Mr. Riley. If we can’t get him convicted, we can at least make his life a bit hellish.”

“That sounds even scarier.” 

“It’s a scary situation, David. But we’ll make sure that it gets resolved, as the old saying goes, by hook or by crook. And even if we don't find any evidence, there will be nothing to prevent us from planting it. We do have the victim’s wallet after all.”

David thought about that for several seconds. “Yeah we do, don’t we.” He then left the apartment. Tony walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink. His hands were trembling noticeably. But his brain was going full tilt.

~ 15 ~

Olivia pulled her Mercedes into its parking space in the basement and got out of the car. She was carrying a couple of shopping bags. As she walked by Quinn’s car, he climbed out of the driver’s seat and caught up to her.

“Hi.” Quinn said.

“Hi yourself.” Olivia replied a little coldly.

“You didn’t call me this morning. I was worried.”

“Did I say I was going to call?”

“No, not in so many words.”

“Well, perhaps that explains why I didn’t call.”

Quinn held the door for Olivia. They continued to walk down a long hallway toward the elevators.

“You sound upset. Are you angry with me?”

“Not that I know of. Why? Should I be?”

“No. You just don’t sound...well, happy.”

They entered the elevator.

“Perhaps that’s because I’m not. I’m very unhappy because my husband knows about us and our little pin-the-tail-on-the-blind-man tricks.”

“He knows? That’s amazing.”

“It’s also the beginning of the end of my marriage if I make a wrong move right now. So I think it’s best if we put a stop to this.”

“What are you saying? That you’d rather be with a blind man who treats you like dirt than me?”

“In a word, yes. I’ve had enough. I don’t want to play anymore.”

Just then Quinn grabbed hold of Olivia’s hair and brutally pulled her up close to him. The sudden burst of violence stunned her.

“I don’t think so, Olivia.”

Olivia was wide-eyed with terror. Quinn loosened up his grip.

“You see, you and I….well, we were made for each other. You can’t tell me that when we’re lying naked together knowing that he’s upstairs, or even right across the room...you’re not getting off on the game just as much as I am.” 

Olivia was too terrified to respond.

“No, Olivia darling, you’re my girl. And you’ll continue to be my girl until I say it’s over. Do you understand?”

Olivia nodded her head. Quinn released his grip. He straightened Olivia’s jacket and hair, then started to mess with his own. The elevator stopped on the penthouse level.

“I’ll see you later, Olivia.”

Olivia walked briskly down the hallway toward her apartment, looking back every few feet, filled with terror and dread. She put her purse down on the foyer table and walked into the living room. Tony was sitting on the sofa with a glass of scotch.

“Olivia?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Listen...I want to talk to you for a moment.” Tony said.

Olivia walked to the bar and poured herself a drink. She walked back and sat down in a chair opposite Tony. 

“I’m listening.”

“This man, Quinn, did he ever tell you anything about himself besides what he told us at dinner the other night?”

“Not really.”

“Well, I’ve found out some things about him that you might be interested to know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have reason to believe that your Mr. Quinn is, for want of a better expression, a bad guy. That he has, in fact, killed a man, named Jason Samuel, quite recently. The police are calling it the Distillery Murder.”

Olivia took a deep breath, careful not to say anything.  

“What. No reaction?” Tony said. “No ‘that’s absurd, Tony’. No argument.”

Olivia started to cry. She moved to the couch, seeking shelter in his arms. Tony, a bit bewildered, comforted her. 

“I...I believe you, darling.” Olivia said. “I just rode up in the elevator with him and... I told him that you knew about us and that I thought we should just…end things.”

“What did he do? Did he hurt you?”

“Not physically...but he was  quite…menacing."

Tony got to his feet. He began to pace around the room. His anger was welling up inside him until he could no longer control it. With his cane, he lashed out and decapitated several bottles of alcohol on his bar. 

“Tony. Stop!”

Tony stood very still and took a deep breath. “If I were any kind of man, I’d march up to my office, get my gun and take the head off that lowlife bastard.”

“Tony, you know that’s not possible. If you say he killed someone, perhaps we should call the police.”

“The police? No. Innocent people would get hurt.” 

Olivia said nothing. She took a deep breath. “But, you’re thinking something, aren't you?”

“Yes. I do believe there’s a way to see that the guilty are punished.” Tony went on to explain his plan to Olivia and the evidence he had to make it work.

Olivia moved to Tony. He took her in his arms and they kissed warmly. She was trembling like a leaf, fighting her desperation. “Tony, you’re not going to do anything foolish.” 

“No Liv, I think I’m going to do something quite brilliant instead.”

Tony kissed Olivia again, this time with a passion that had not raged in him for quite some time.

Later, Tony and Olivia were lying in bed together, as the late afternoon sunlight streamed in through the window. Olivia rested her head on Tony’s chest.

“You remember when we were first married and you worked in that dreadful public relations company? With all those tiresome perky people.” Tony said.

“I remember those tiresome perky people helping to launch the career of a no-name mystery writer. I also remember that I went to school with a couple of them.” 

“You still keep in touch with one of them. Martina?” 

“Marlena Sharpe. Yes I have coffee with her regularly.”

“She lives up north somewhere doesn’t she?”

“Yes, in Richmond Hill. Why?”

“I’d like you to go stay with her for a few days.” 

“Why?”

“Because this idea I have is not exactly foolproof. I’d like you as far away as possible in the event that things...take a negative turn.”

“Do you think I’m in some kind of danger?”

“I think we’re all treading on thin ice here. I don’t know exactly what this man is capable of. But I do know I want you as far from this situation as possible. Now, will you do this… for me?”

Olivia sighed and kissed Tony on the cheek. 

 

A few hours later, there was a knock on Quinn’s door.  Quinn, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, answered it. Olivia stood in the doorway. 

“Hello.”  Quinn said.

Olivia did not respond. She entered the apartment. Quinn closed the door. Olivia walked to the window and turned to face him as he walked to his bar and poured himself a drink. He held up the glass. 

“Can I interest you in a drink?”

“No, thank you. I’ve just come by for a moment to tell you something.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, I want to tell you that this is the last time that you and I will ever speak to each other.”

Quinn sat down on the couch with his drink and put his feet up on the coffee table. “And why is that, Olivia?”

“Because the way you treated me today was absolutely barbaric.”

“Barbaric...I like that.”

“I’m not certain where you acquired the notion that women were put on this planet to be brutalized, but it is a mistaken impression. One which I hope you will work hard to correct in the future.”

“I see. Is that all?”

“Yes. I’ve written out the details of your attack on me and sent it to our lawyer. So if anything like this should happen again, I will swear out a sexual assault complaint against you, and you’ll be arrested and quite likely put into prison for a considerable length of time or at the very least have your background looked into to see if there is more of this aberrant behaviour in your past.”

Quinn started to seethe. He got to his feet and moved slowly across the room toward Olivia.

“It will happen, Alex.” 

“You really know how to play hardball, now don’t you?”

“You’ll find that more and more women do these days.”

Quinn was now face-to-face with her. He cracked a demented smile. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Unfortunately, that means very little to a deranged sociopath like myself.”

Quinn began to run his hands over Olivia’s breasts. She made no attempt to stop him. She was terrified to do anything.

“You have lovely breasts, Olivia. How long before they start to lose their bounce, before the years start to undo your beauty?”

Quinn removed his hand from her breast. It moved down and under her skirt. 

“And this. Something you’d almost forgotten how to use until I came along.” 

Quinn’s fondling caused Olivia to flinch. But she remained stoic and non-responsive.

“Now you heat up like a high-performance sports car whenever I get near you. Kiss me, Olivia.” 

Olivia grabbed Quinn’s arm and moved it gently away. “You’re a repulsive paper maché man. You think you can terrify me into being an obedient little slave? I’m sorry, Alex, but that sort of thing has gone the way of the chastity belt and the dinosaur.”

Olivia pushed him away and he backed up.

“I don’t want to be your enemy, Alex. But by the same token, I don’t want to be your lover anymore. Now if you have a problem with that, there’s nothing I can do. But believe me when I tell you, Alex, it’s over.”

Quinn moved in on her. Olivia raised her hands in a reflexive defensive movement. Quinn grabbed her wrists and pinned her to the glass door. “Sorry, Olivia. You’ll have to do better than that.”

“You think I can’t?”

Quinn laughed. He was convinced he was in a position of power. “I could kill you right now and dispose of you with very little trouble. I could break your neck and arrange a car crash. I could overdose you with crack cocaine and leave you for dead in a crack house not two miles from here.”

“My God, you are a real piece of work, Alex. But you won’t do any of those things.”

“Oh, and why not? I’m extremely capable.” 

“I don’t doubt that. But you won’t do it because I know all about Jason Samuel. I know when you killed him and exactly how. I believe it was July 9th. A warehouse off Michigan Avenue. You met him there to buy some sleazy little industrial secret he was selling, and instead of paying him off, you shot him. Once in the head. Once in the heart. It’s all written down and in my lawyer’s safe, along with Jason Samuels’ wallet, and an affidavit stating that I found it in your apartment.”

Quinn was shaken. He wasn’t quite certain what to do. He released his grip on Olivia. He then walked back to the bar and poured another drink. He was off in another world now. Olivia walked over to the bar.

“Let me tell you what happens now, Alex.”

Quinn glared at her. “How do you know this?”

“I have my sources. The how hardly matters. What matters is that when you get up tomorrow morning you will call John Beaumont and tell him that you have to give up this apartment. I don’t care what reason you give. I just don’t ever want to see or hear from you again. Or I will use the evidence to get you thrown in jail and sodomized by hardened criminals until you are no longer a handsome fellow. And understand this…I’m still the wife of an extremely well-connected man. I can make this happen.”

Quinn stared at Olivia for a long time. His rage burned brightly in his eyes. “Get out of here and be thankful you’re still alive.”

Olivia opened the door and left Quinn staring at his glass and then suddenly, as his rage erupted, he threw it across the room. It shattered against the glass terrace door. Without thinking he picked up a cigarette from a case on the coffee table. He lit it and walked out onto the terrace.

Olivia heard the sound of the breaking glass. It stopped her in her tracks for a moment. She began to cry, mostly from relief.

~ 16 ~ 

David had his bedroom curtains closed as he peered through a camera mounted with a telephoto lens, which was pointed at Quinn’s apartment. He had seen the entire scene. He was sweating profusely. He breathed a sigh of relief as he observed Olivia leaving the apartment. He then picked up his phone.

Tony was sitting on the stairs as Olivia entered the apartment. His phone was in his hand. “Olivia. I thought we agreed you would go to Marlena’s.”

“I had something important to do, Tony. Something that couldn’t wait.”

“I just heard all about it. You’re lucky you got out of there in one piece.”

Olivia sat down beside him on the stairs. “Tony, this is insane. Let's just go away. Just disappear for a while.”

“No! Don’t you see?” Tony said. “Then he would still be in control. No, darling. The gauntlet has been thrown down. Either he disappears of his own volition, or he does so with my help. Those are the only two options and you know it. So please, just pack a bag and go.”

Olivia looked at Tony for a moment. She wasn’t quite sure what to think at this point. Then she put down her glass and went upstairs. Tony followed her. Tony sat on the bed as Olivia pulled a small suitcase out of the closet. She threw a few things in then she went to the bathroom and packed a small toiletry kit. 

Olivia quietly opened the adjoining door and entered Tony’s office. She opened his desk drawer and pulled out his 9 mm pistol. She carried it back into the bathroom, then came out and put her toiletry bag in her suitcase and the gun in her purse.

“I’ve learned from many years of experience that it’s no good to argue when you get like this.” Olivia said. “ I hope you prevail. But I want you to understand that I believe you’re acting like a macho fool.”

“All men are macho fools given half a chance.” He kissed Olivia gently. “Some are just lucky enough to have married the right woman. Now, there’s only one more thing I need you to do.”

“As long as it doesn’t involve me coming face to face with that animal again.”

“It doesn’t. What I want you to do is call him in the morning and arrange to meet him in the afternoon. Tell him you’ve had a change of heart, that we had a terrible row over him and you’re seriously considering leaving me. Then give him the name of a restaurant up in the north end of the city. I need him out of his apartment for a good two hours.”

“All right... but I really hope you know what you’re doing.” Olivia said

“So do I.”

Olivia kissed Tony on the cheek and left without saying anything further. 

Tony walked into his office, sat down at the computer and switched it on. 

The lines of battle were drawn. In the end, there will only be the victor and the vanquished. One will have died for a cause he did not believe in. One will continue to live in the name of a cause he can never understand. The strange symmetry of good and evil...

Tony got up from his desk and walked to the window  He opened it and felt the warm evening breeze on his face. Then he sat back down.

But one cannot dwell too long on these paradoxes. They inevitably distract the mind and dull the senses. What is needed now is a strong tactic. Lord knows the enemy was devising his own at this very second.

Tony walked to the desk, picked up his phone and spoke. “Call Riley.” A few seconds later Riley answered. “Riley. Tony Shaw. Tomorrow’s the day…be here at about two just to be safe…thanks.”

Tony disconnected.

Quinn was sitting at his computer. He opened an anonymous email on his Gmail. At Tony's request, David had put it together, having found Quinn's email address on the dark web, where he advertised his services.

THE NEFARIOUS CAREER OF INDUSTRIAL SPY
ALEX QUINN CAME TO AN ABRUPT HALT TODAY
AS HE WAS ARRESTED AND CHARGED WITH THE MURDER
OF SYSTEMS SECURITY EXPERT  JASON SAMUEL.

Quinn became completely enraged. He gripped the computer and lifted it high in the air. Then he thought twice about it. He took a deep breath and put it gently down. He rubbed his hands over his face and shook his head. He got up and then wandered out onto the terrace, where he stood for a long time looking out into the late afternoon sky.
   When he walked back inside the apartment, he spied a plain envelope that had been slid under his door. He quickly opened the door and looked both ways down the hall. He saw nothing. He picked up the intercom handset to call the front desk, but then thought better of it. He opened the envelope and took out a MasterCard in the name of Jason Samuel.

~ 17 ~

That evening, at Leo Firestone’s house, in an area called Forest Hill, Firestone was sitting in his hot tub with a glass of wine. There was a woman there with him, a few years younger and quite beautiful. The woman kissed Firestone and climbed out of the hot tub. She entered the house through the back door.

Firestone sipped his wine casually, humming a tune to himself. Suddenly he felt the coldness of a gun barrel against his temple. He turned to see that it was Quinn.

“What the hell are you doing here? This is my home.”

“I have a question.”

“Well, it had better be a damn good one.”

“Who else knows about us?” Quinn asked.

“Nobody.”

“Nobody?”

“Nobody who doesn’t have a lot to lose from knowing. What’s the problem, Alex?”

Quinn handed Firestone Jason Samuels’ MasterCard. 

“This was shoved under my door an hour ago.” He also handed Firestone a printout of the email. “And this arrived from parts unknown in my computer tonight. So what I need to know, I mean really need to know, is who else knows about us.”

Firestone, ignoring the pistol at his head, got up and climbed out of the hot tub. 

“Put that damn thing away. You’re not gonna kill me and you know it.”

 Firestone grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He looked at the printout again. 

“This is not good. You’ve obviously pissed someone off. Someone very clever.”

“I only know three or four people in this whole damn city. I haven’t been here long enough to piss anyone off.” 

Firestone slapped the printout against Quinn’s chest. “Obviously that’s not true, Charlie Brown. You’d better rethink this, starting with the fact that you could take me down with you if this gets out. You know it. I know it. So who’s left?”

Quinn collapsed into a chair. The gun dangled from his hand. “I’m sorry Leo, you’re right as usual. I’ve been thinking about this all wrong. It’s not business. It’s personal.”

“Well, there you go.”

Quinn tucked the gun under his jacket. He got up to leave. 

“It goes without saying,” Firestone said. “That this situation should be resolved as quickly as possible. I won’t risk any exposure. If you take my meaning.” 

Quinn stared back at Firestone for a moment. “I take your meaning, Leo. But I’m afraid this isn’t about you.” 

“Oh. That’s wonderful news. Alex, remind me, how long have we been doing business together.”

“About ten years.” 

“Ten years...long time. And in all those ten years, and all the score you’ve taken down, have I ever lied to you or cheated you in any way?”

“No. Come to think of it, you’ve been perfectly honest.”  

“Perfectly honest…Well, I’m not about to do anything to change that. So Alex, believe me when I tell you that if the crap hits the fan on this little issue, I will be gone and so will your main revenue stream.”

Quinn stared at Firestone for a few seconds, then disappeared down the side of the house. 

The next day, Quinn was sitting on the terrace, smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee. He was not looking very happy. The expression on his face betrayed a great deal of pent-up rage. His phone rang. He picked it up. 

“Yes?...Well hello, Olivia...You have? Pardon me if I have a little trouble believing you. You sounded pretty firm yesterday.” He listened for almost a minute and then said. “Ohh…Well, that is very interesting indeed. Yes, I’m free...Why so far out of the way? If you’ve left him, then it shouldn’t matter where we meet...No, no wait...yes I can find it. Seven o’clock.”

Tony was sitting at the kitchen counter sipping coffee. David stared out the window on the bright day. The doorbell rang.

“That’ll be Stone Riley.” Tony said. 

David let Riley in.

“Afternoon Mr. Shaw.’

“Stone.”

“Coffee?”

“Black, please.”

They moved to the dining room table where David had a MacBook set up and an external hard drive. David took Riley through the motions of setting up the drive and copying a file over. Riley caught on quickly. 

“Do this first and download all the file folders you see on the hard drive and the desktop. It should take a bit of time. While you’re doing that you can look around all you want.” Tony said. “If you see anything that looks like evidence of a crime, take it. ”

 Tony’s phone rang. “Hello? Yes, darling. Alright, that’s wonderful…No...No! You don’t want to know what’s going to happen. I’m not even certain myself. Now, please, just...enjoy your time up there, say hi to Marlena and I’ll call you tonight. I promise.”

 Tony put down the phone.  

“David...he'll be leaving around six or six thirty I want you to take up your post at five thirty just to be safe. Stone, you and I will go in as soon as David confirms that he is out of the garage and gone for five minutes.”

Riley got up from the table, looking at his watch.

“Mr. Shaw. You mind if I sack out for bit in your guest room? Up a little late last night.”

“No, go ahead.” Tony said

Riley left the room and headed upstairs. 

“OK, I’m going now. Talk to you soon.” David said. “Don’t forget your glasses and your sensor.” Tony had spent a lot of the past week with David and on his own, getting a real feel for the hardware. He quickly developed his skills to the point where he moved with almost total confidence. After David left, Tony went up to his office. 

The day of the hunt. The plan...conceived in the swirling vortex of his life’s second wind. The twist...easily one of the most ingenious he had ever devised. The challenge ... would he, after all was said and done, have the courage to execute his plan? To take another man’s life, no matter how morally bankrupt and evil that man happened to be? Fear rippled through his consciousness, uneasy waves on a hyper-violent sea. Not fear of failure. But fear of how his life would be forever changed when he would finally confront his nemesis and win. Or lose.

At quarter past five, David called to report that Quinn had left five minutes ago. Riley was already up. He gave Tony a pair of surgical gloves, which he had wiped down to remove any powder residue.

“Let’s go, Mr. Shaw.” Riley said.

The two men moved down the quiet hallway. Tony was wearing earbuds with his phone in his pocket, his sonar glasses and the sensor. He moved very confidently down the hall. He was connected to David who was watching the garage entrance, on the off chance that Quinn should return.

On the street below, Olivia sat in her car and watched the building. When she saw that Quinn had left, she found a parking place and entered a small bistro. She sat by the window with a coffee and watched the vehicle entrance to the building.

Riley picked the lock on Quinn’s door quite easily. Riley and Tony entered the apartment. Riley sat down at the laptop, hooked up the remote drive started downloading all the files he was able to see.

Riley then cased the entire apartment quickly and quietly feeling behind pictures, examining art and various objects, and peering into closets and drawers. Finally, Riley hunkered down in front of the safe in the foyer closet and skillfully, with the aid of some sophisticated electronics, popped it and discovered a large stack of bills neatly piled inside.

“There’s a lot of dead presidents here, Mister Shaw.” 

“Take it all. And leave the safe wide open.”

Riley filled a canvas rucksack with the loot. Once he had done that he sat down at the computer desk and went through each drawer carefully. After a few minutes, the downloads stopped. Riley took one last look around the hard drive and, satisfied that he had gotten everything, he unhooked the remote drive and put it in the rucksack, then put the computer back to sleep the way he found it.

“All done, Mr. Shaw.”

“Good. Just one last thing.” Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out Jason Samuel’s wallet. He handed it to Riley. “Put this in the desk. Somewhere where it can be found but not too easily.” 

Riley opened the bottom drawer of the desk and shoved the wallet under some papers. 

The two men left as quietly as they had come, leaving the door unlocked.

After they got back to Tony’s apartment, he called David. “We’re clear David.”

~ 18 ~ 

Olivia was fidgeting nervously in the bistro. She picked up the phone and called Tony. It went through to voicemail. She took a deep breath and ordered another coffee.

At the Starbucks just south of Steeles Avenue, at the northern edge of the city, Quinn parked his car in the lot in the rear. He entered and ordered a coffee and took a seat by the window. He sat there for about twenty minutes, then called Olivia’s number only to get her voicemail. He didn’t bother to leave a message. As he continued to wait, he started putting things together in his head. He then finished his coffee and headed back out to his car. He was seething with anger.

At Tony’s apartment, Tony, Riley and David were sitting at the table with a massive stack of money in front of them. 

“There’s a little over a million here, Mr. Shaw, more or less.” Riley said. 

“That’s a hell of a lot more than I thought.” Tony said.

“It’s quite a haul. This guy must be a real badass.” Riley said.

“Tell you what, Stone. Take half of it for yourself.”

Riley looked at the stack. How about I take a third, and you guys split the rest? Hey, we’re all in this together.”

“Done.” Tony said. 

Riley took about a third of what was sitting on the table and dumped into into his rucksack. 

“Riley, as usual, exemplary work.” Tony said.

“My pleasure Mr. Shaw. Anytime you want to take down another score let me know.” 

“Let’s hope it won’t be too soon.” 

Riley got to his feet, grabbed Tony’s hand and shook it.

“Don’t forget to leave through the car park, and put up your hood.”

“Gotcha.” Riley then shook hands with David and handed him back the pass card. “You were very cool under pressure, kid. You should be proud of yourself.”

Riley left the apartment. David and Tony sat down with the money.  

“David, there’s a tin trash can in my room. Please empty it and bring it to me.”

“Sure.”

David went upstairs and returned with the trash can. 

“Now crumple up a bunch of that money and toss it in the trash can.”

David crumpled up about a quarter of the remaining cash. 

Tony went into the kitchen and came back with a can of lighter fluid, a pack of matches and a green garbage bag. “Put the trash can in the garbage bag and follow me. Tony grabbed a bottle of water on the way out.

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

A few minutes later, David and Tony came out onto the roof of the building through a fire door. Tony emptied the lighter fluid into the trash can and lit the bills on fire. The currency burned and gave off a dark grey cloud of smoke that was quickly dispersed by the wind blowing across the top of the building.

Tony then poured a bottle of water over the charred money. Ten minutes later, the tin of money was sitting inside Quinn’s door.  

An hour later, David was sitting behind his telescope. He was holding the phone in his hand.

“It’s nine fifteen. Still no action in Mr. Quinn’s apartment.”

Tony was sitting at his desk and had just disconnected from his call with David.

The game was nearly complete now. Only a few t’s to cross and i’s to dot. A feeling of immense satisfaction buoyed his spirit. The smell and muted crackle of the burning money. The slickness and relative ease of the con. And even though he was only a marginally better man than when he started, the molehill of that margin was a lofty peak as he sat basking in the glow of his satisfaction. It was, only a small victory but one which was indeed hard-earned.

Outside his window, Tony heard the screeching of tires. Almost immediately after that, Tony’s phone rang.

“He’s here,” David said.

Tony disconnected. He put on his radar glasses and sensor. He reached down into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled it open. His hand groped around in the drawer. Suddenly Tony went pale. 

“Where is the damn gun?”

He slammed the drawer. He quickly felt around opening and closing the other drawers. Finally, he sat back in his chair. He was thinking hard. He got to his feet and moved out of the study.

 ~ 19 ~ 

Quinn got off the elevator. He was holding a paper bag with a half-consumed bottle of scotch. As he entered his apartment, he looked down at the trash can and the charred bills. He stood staring at it for a long time in a drunken stupor.

In his apartment, Tony felt his way into the laundry room and found the electrical switch box. He shut the power switch off. The apartment went dark. He was sweating profusely. 

In Quinn’s apartment, Quinn saw the closet door and the safe wide open and empty. He let out an enraged scream.

In Tonys’ apartment, he moved about closing all the curtains. He then headed to the living room and groped around for a fireplace poker.

Quinn screwed the silencer onto his Browning and left his apartment.

Tony moved some furniture around in the living room. He then found a place by the door and waited with his fireplace poker in hand. He was absolutely terrified but knew he had to face his fate, no matter what.

Quinn clumsily picked the lock on Tony’s door. It popped open. He held up his Browning and entered cautiously. Quinn froze for a moment as the door closed behind him, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Just as he started to move forward, Tony stepped out of his hiding place, with the echo locator beeping like crazy. He started to flail at Quinn with the fireplace poker. He succeeded in knocking Quinn’s gun to the floor, as well as breaking his wrist. Tony retreated as Quinn groped around on the floor for the gun. Quinn found the gun and immediately fired three shots in the direction of his attack. But Tony was on the other side of the room. He made a bump with the poker. Quinn advanced toward the noise. After a few seconds he tripped over the coffee table Tony brought the poker down on Quinn’s shoulder blade. Quinn screamed in pain and lost his grip on the pistol again. 

While Quinn tried to locate the pistol, in the dark, Tony moved to the stairs and up to the second level. He took up a position beside the stairs.

Quinn found the gun “You’re a blind man, Shaw. You don’t really expect to survive now do you?”

Quinn checked out the entire first floor. “I’m a patient man, Shaw. Very patient. In my business, you have to be. I’ll find you. Sooner or later. Then I’ll go find your wife and that kid who takes you for walks in the park. As for the money, there will always be more of that...the same, can’t be said for your life.”

Quinn moved up the stairs in the darkness. As he rounded the corner, Tony flipped on a large flashlight. Quinn was temporarily blinded. Tony charged with the fireplace poker. It caught Quinn on the bridge of the nose and slipped into his left eye. Tony’s momentum carried him forward into Quinn, who tumbled down the stairs. Tony lost his footing and tumbled along with him. The two men fell to the bottom of the stairs. But Tony seemed to be none the worse for it, as Quinn had cushioned his fall. Tony quickly got to his feet. He listened carefully, but Quinn did not appear to be moving at all.

Suddenly, the door opened. Olivia entered the apartment. In the dim light, cast from the hallway, she saw Tony struggling to his feet. 

“Who’s that? David? Get out of here!”

“Tony! Are you all right?”

“Olivia! I thought I told you to stay away.” As Tony moved toward her, Olivia saw Quinn slowly and very shakily rise up from the floor with the gun at his side. There was blood streaming down his face and one of his eyes was swollen shut. He squinted with his good eye and raised the gun, his hand trembling. Olivia reached into her bag and pulled out Tony’s gun.

“Tony, GET DOWN. NOW!” Olivia screamed.

Tony dropped to the floor. He heard three muted pings from Quinn’s gun that ripped into the open door beside Olivia. Then he heard a single loud report from his own gun. 

Outside in the distance, he heard sirens steadily growing louder. Then he heard the thud of a gun dropping to the floor behind him, followed by a louder thud as Quinn hit the floor himself.

Then there was silence except for the approaching sirens, as Tony got to his feet and moved toward Olivia. They embraced. After a few minutes, with David leading them, the police got off the elevator and moved down the hall toward Tony and Olivia’s penthouse.

~ 20 ~

A few days later, David sat in his window, talking into his recorder.

The police saw the scene in Tony’s apartment as a case of self-defence. Olivia and Tony were both taken in and questioned, then released. A search of Alex Quinn’s apartment came up with the wallet of a dead man by the name of Jason Samuel. Analysis of Quinn’s gun revealed a match to the bullets in Jason Samuel. The trash can filled with charred cash was viewed as a weird, inexplicable aspect of the case, as were the various notes and email messages discovered there too. There was no money found in Tony’s apartment. It was safely stowed under my bed.

Three days later at the CNIB, Dr. Singleton entered her office to begin her day. She noticed a large canvas bag on her desk with a note attached. She opened the card. It simply read “Keep up the good work.” She unzipped the bag to see several hundred thousand dollars in cash.

The money that didn’t get burned, and there was a lot of it, well, let’s just say it got put to good use. 

Tony Shaw and Olivia are in the process of living happily ever after. And only six months later, Tony’s latest book, ‘Blind Side Of The Heart’, was released. It was the first in his new series that would be based on a blind detective with a nose for solving white-collar crimes. 

As for me, I learned that a little adventure can go a long way. Maybe one day, I’ll even tell the world this story. Maybe.

FIN