Jean-Pierre Bisseau raised the porcelain cup to his lips. He sipped slowly, savoring every drop of the strong-tasting expresso, one of the two dozen or so signature coffees on the menu at Café Monaco. Bisseau, a native of Outremont, a Montreal suburb, had spent nearly twenty years as a member of the Sûreté du Québec. A year earlier, he joined the North American Police with the rank of captain. Bisseau, his wife Sophie, and their daughters, Madeline and Josee, sipped hot drinks as they waited for their meals to arrive.
The popular downtown Kamloops eating establishment was quite busy every day around lunchtime. Bisseau felt somewhat like an outcast. Patrons looked upon his black uniform with scorn and contempt and avoided him as much as possible. The veteran police officer realized that he was taking an enormous risk bringing his family to the other end of what used to be the nation of Canada. With the recent killings of his colleagues, he too feared that his own life could be in danger as well as the lives of his wife and children.
A cool breeze blew down Sixth Avenue. Chris Templeton stood against the west-facing outer brick wall of the small plaza that included Café Monaco. Slightly nervous, he touched the handle of the .45 ACP which was tucked discreetly inside of his jacket. Templeton stole a brief look inside of the packed eatery. Bisseau, his wife and daughters were sitting in the middle of the restaurant eating sandwiches and salads. Templeton donned a black balaclava and went inside.
The next few seconds seemed like forever; everything went into slow motion. The former Canadian soldier received curious as well as frightened looks from patrons and staff. His heart beating wildly, Templeton made a beeline for Bisseau. Madeline gasped in horror as a man wearing a mask and brandishing a pistol with a sound suppressor on the end of it approached.
As Bisseau went to turn, Templeton shot him in the head. The NAP officer fell off of his chair onto the floor. Templeton fled out the backdoor of Café Monaco into an alleyway. Not one of the patrons got up from their seats to assist. A devastated Sophie fell to her knees. Mother and daughter cried in unimaginable anguish. One older man got up from his table and flashed a taciturn glance at the grieving widow before leaving the restaurant.
Templeton double-timed it down a narrow alleyway. He’d already ditched the .45 in a sewer hole. He ran right to Fifth Avenue where Jeff and Ben Hinton waited with nervous apprehension inside of a Honda Civic outside of the King Cinemas. Templeton spotted the car. He sprinted over and jumped in the backseat.
“You got it done?” Jeff asked.
“That piece of rubbish will never harm another human soul.” Templeton was breathing heavily. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
Nicole did her best to relax on top of the covers of the queen-sized bed in Frank Carragher’s bedroom. An old movie played on the big-screen perched on the wall directly in front of the bed. Although Nicole felt as though she was going against everything she stood for by working for the enemy, it at least kept her sane. Arielle was enrolled in Grade Two in an inner-city school, now under the mandate of the federal Department of Education.
Nicole continued to feel somewhat disconnected from Arielle. She wondered if it was too late to save her only child. Only time would tell. It had been several weeks since Nicole had spoken with Father Tuck. She was also quite concerned about Bridgette. Although Nicole desperately wanted to speak with Tuck, any contact with the renegade priest whatsoever would likely raise suspicions. Nicole had officially become Frank Carragher’s prized possession and he watched her like a hawk.
Arielle was in her room playing Wii. Carragher was in the washroom adjacent to the master bedroom running a bath. Recently, the manipulative star bureaucrat had been placing immense pressure on Nicole to have sexual relations with him. She brushed off his advances but knew that she could not do so forever. Carragher emerged from the spacious washroom with nary a tack of clothing on him. Nicole recoiled at the sight of the pasty white skin, that burgeoning mountain of fat that nearly buried his midsection, and hairy chest and stomach.
“My dear.” Carragher failed in his attempt to speak in a sexy, seductive tone. “Would you be so kind as to join me? My back and shoulders are just killing me this evening.”
There was no way that Nicole was getting out of this one and she knew it. Slowly, the attractive woman arose from the bed. Next, she slipped off her nightgown.
Carragher became aroused at the sight of her slim, toned figure.
“You and I are going to have a lot of fun together.”
Nicole felt nauseated as she followed Carragher into the bathroom. The whirlpool-style tub was filled with hot water and bubbles. Carragher got in. She followed suit.
“Now pleasure me like I’ve never been pleasured before,” Carragher instructed as he relaxed in the hot water.