“That’s right. I was worried she might have a concussion.”
Amir looked at his coffee. “You could have left her there and got out.”
Lane shook his head. “No, I couldn’t.”
Amir studied Lane but said nothing. They heard Keely’s footsteps and turned as she approached. Amir got up and went to hug her. She winced in pain as he put her arms around her shoulders. “We won’t be long,” she said.
Lane parked the Jeep in front of the glass-and-metal office building that was part of the Foothills Medical Centre where Fibre worked.
“I’m sorry about my father,” Keely said.
Lane smiled. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I like the guy.”
Keely laughed and grimaced. “Oooh, that hurts. Even when he’s swearing at you in Arabic?”
“Especially when he’s swearing at me in Arabic. It’s what Arthur does. And what your dad doesn’t know is that I understood all of what he said.”
Keely laughed and moaned.
“You hungry?” Lane asked.
“Starved.”
Lane reached for his cell, flipped it open, and dialed. He looked at Keely.
“Yes, Dr. Weaver?” Lane listened, then said, “We’d like to meet for lunch. Yes, perhaps a bit unusual. Yes, I’m sure you always bring your lunch. Yes, today is different. We’d like you to come with us and get a little fresh air. Yes, both of us are in the car outside waiting for you. We’ll wait for a minute until you get here.” Lane closed the phone.
“Do you think he’ll come out?” Keely asked
“We’ll give him five minutes. Apparently, he enjoys routine.” Lane looked sideways at her and raised his eyebrows.
Keely leaned against the door. “How did you know about the bomb?”
“What do you mean?”
“Just before the explosion, you changed lanes and I can remember the roar of the engine.” She looked out the window, seeing it happen again.
“Flashback?” Lane asked.
“Yes. A flashback. Answer the question.” Keely turned to look at him.
“Something wasn’t right. I saw the plastic container duct-taped to the curb and the pavement. And it looked like the top was taped closed. It was an instinctive reaction to something that was out of place.”
“So it would have exploded much closer to me if you hadn’t reacted the way you did.”
Lane nodded.
“Thank you. I owe you.”
“Let’s get one thing clear,” Lane said. “You don’t owe me a thing. We’re partners.”
“Grumpy?” Keely smiled.
“A little.”
“Would you look at that?” Keely pointed.
Fibre stood outside. He looked from side to side. Lane started the engine and pulled around to pick the doctor up. Fibre had trouble opening the back door but finally managed to get in the back seat. He searched for the seat belt.
“Thank you for joining us, Colin,” Lane said. “Please close the door.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” Fibre closed the door. “Ready.”
Lane looked at Fibre in the mirror. The doctor sat with his lunch bag on his lap.
Ten minutes later, they parked near the river and close to a crescent where a wicker furniture store, a fabric shop, and a couple of apartments faced a restaurant in a permanent state of expansion and renovation.
Lane groaned as he exited the car. Keely did the same. Fibre got out, closed his door, and went inside the restaurant without a backwards glance. Lane followed and held the door open for Keely.
Inside, they found an almost exclusively female clientele casting sideways glances at Fibre’s glamour-boy face and physique.
Lane looked at Keely to see if she’d noticed. She smiled back, shook her head, and mouthed a single word: “Unbelievable.”
They sat down across from the doctor, who was studying the menu, which was written in a variety of colours on a whiteboard on the wall behind the cash register. “Thought I’d better get a table. Are the Nanaimo bars good here?”
“Delicious. You’ve had them before,” Lane said.
“I’ll have two.” Fibre opened his lunch bag, unwrapped a sandwich, and began to eat while looking out the window. Lane caught a whiff of peanut butter and jam that smelled of saskatoon berries.
Lane and Keely decided on what to have for lunch and got up to order.
“My treat,” Keely said.
“No,” Lane said.
“Yes.” She glared at Lane. He put his money back in his pocket. “It’s the least I can do. You saved my life and my father insulted you for it. At least as far as you and I go, one good turn should be rewarded.”
After they sat down and the coffee had arrived, Fibre looked at them. “Initial findings are that the rear of your vehicle took the brunt of the explosive force and absorbed most of its energy. The explosive device was a mixture of nitro methane and ammonium nitrate. We believe that a cellphone was used to trigger the device. No nails, ball bearings, or other bits of metal were found nearby. Devices like this often use shrapnel. This one did not.” Fibre looked side to side as he rolled up the sandwich wrapper, folded up the bag, and tucked the wrap inside a fold. He opened his jacket pocket and slid the bag inside.
The waiter brought sandwiches on thick slices of kettle bread to Lane and Keely. Fibre stared at the plate with its pair of Nanaimo bars; to him it appeared to be the only food in the café. Lane sipped his coffee and watched Fibre slice off one corner with his fork, speared it, and put the morsel in his mouth. His eyes went wide, then closed as he swallowed and smiled. He looks like he’s about to have an orgasm! Fibre’s eyes opened. He cut off another section of Nanaimo bar, repeating the process all over again.
After the fourth bite, Lane looked around. Some of the women stared, a few looked away, and one dabbed her forehead with a napkin.
“Anything new on the pipe bomb?” Keely asked.
Fibre opened his eyes and reoriented himself within his surroundings. “No. The device is clean. We checked for blood, skin cells, and fingerprints. The bombmaker was very cautious about leaving evidence behind.”
Lane began to eat his sandwich. He watched Keely cut off small bites of bread with a knife. She saw him watching her. “My jaw hurts.”
“I’m finished.” Fibre stood up and went outside. He stood waiting by the car until Lane and Keely arrived five minutes later. They traveled in silence back to Fibre’s office. He closed the back door of the Chev and walked into the building, all without a wave, a thank-you, a backward glance, or a goodbye.
“Very odd,” Keely said.
“And very good at his job. He grows on you after a couple of years.” I never thought I would say that.
“So what’s next?” Keely asked.
“Wait for a break?” Lane didn’t have to wait long for Keely’s reaction.
“No way. We’re getting close. Either it’s someone inside the force or it’s Jelena.”
“You sound like it’s getting personal,” Lane said.
She looked at him. “Somebody tried to kill us. You bet it’s personal. Who do we concentrate on?”
“The bomber is the most immediate threat.” Lane rubbed what was left of his earlobe.
“You think it’s the same one who blew up my car?” Keely asked.
“I think it was someone who knew we’d be at a certain place at a certain time.” Lane looked at Keely.
“I looked at the map again. The route we took is actually one of two roads into that development. There is another way in, but it would take a lot longer, and it’s more complicated.” Keely leaned away from the door and rubbed her right shoulder.
“So the most likely suspects would be Jelena or whoever had access to our communications. When did you call it in?”
Keely thought for a moment. “About thirty minutes before we left my place. That gave the bomber at least forty-five minutes to get everything in place.”
“Plenty of time. We should expect that there are more explosive devices available to the bomber.”