Red Flag

29. Whistled Away

While we waited for the new licence plates, Lorne and I sat at the round table in the office to check the blog stats and Twitter on his computer. He looked up, smiling and nodding. "This should rattle them. Hopefully, push them into making more mistakes."

"Mistakes? More?"

"They're acting too fast, Kate. Didn't take the time to confirm your address. Didn't take the time to confirm mine. Shows their desperation."

"And when they discover the police have intercepted the bomb, even more desperate. More reasons to silence me."

Lorne blew a loud breath. "Yeah, stop you from connecting them to two murders. But fortunately, they know you only by your pen name. Is there anything linking that to your real one? To your family?"

"It is my real one – now. I was tired of being called Cates Cates, Double Cates, Kitty Cats and KitKat; so after the initial promotion of my first book, I continued using it. Then to resolve hassles with the HR people when WCTV hired me, I made the change to Redburn legal."

"So, more than ten years ago." Lorne nodded. "Far too obscure for them to find – even if they suspect you might have changed it."

"But that I didn't change it when I married..." I winced. "Wouldn't that look suspicious? Cause them to dig?"

"No, that's increasingly common – now more than one in five opt to keep their maiden name. What about your back cover bio? Those on your author's site?"

"My publisher advised me to make no mention of family background in them – other than to say Vancouver born and raised."

"Yeah, wise. What about the bio on your blog?"

I pointed to his computer. "Take a look. I think it's benign."

He surfed to it, and we read through my About Me paragraph: I'm Vancouver-born, and I grew up on West Coast cuisine with sustainable and environmentally friendly, locally-sourced ingredients. I love the ethnic mix which has added magic to our tables, and I want to celebrate the finest of these with you. K. "Yeah, this'll give them nothing but a confirmation of your attitude about the sludge they serve."

I chuckled. "So, posting real descriptions of their menu items – how will we do that?"

"Driscoll has tasked detachments across the country to play innocent diners and check the suspected menus to see if they are similar to the scans I sent him."

"Ummm, like a chain. Then what?"

"Check for MSM, surimi and other misrepresented ingredients."

"Will they know what to look for?" I shrugged. "Most of the dining public doesn't."

"I sent him links to articles on slime and surimi and a list of all the items we suspect."

"Three-quarters of the menu, then." I snickered. "Tough to falsify salads and desserts."

"True. But they've likely found ways there, as well. Let's focus first on..." Lorne paused at the knock on the door and called, "Please, come in."

A uniformed officer entered and held out an envelope. "Sir, your card and papers are in here. The new plates are now in place."

"Thank you. That was fast."

"There's an agency office just up the street – corner of Seventh."

When the officer had left, Lorne closed his computer, and as he put it into his satchel, he said, "We should be away; it's a two-hour drive."

"Oh! Where are we going?"

"Whistler – I thought I had told you."

"Hmmm! Must have zoned out. Or when I had dozed off."

"Maybe." He smiled, took my hand and led me out of the office. As we descended in the elevator, he said, "When we exit the parkade, watch for anyone suspicious. There'll be police walking to and from their cruisers, but there should be no loiterers."

"With all the police, would the goons dare wander through there – much less loiter?"

"There are dumpsters behind the buildings across the lane, and brave ones might play at diving. Maybe someone dressed as a homeless pushing a supermarket cart. We know the perils of underestimating them."

A while later, as Lorne turned from the lane onto Cambie, my breathing finally slowed, but I was still a bit jittery while we waited for the light at 2nd, my head swivelling to check through all the windows, thankful for the tinting. Then across and onto the ramp up to the Cambie Bridge, I relaxed enough to think about where we were headed. "Have you booked a room for us?"

"No, there's no need."

"No need? It's near-impossible to find accommodation there at short notice."

Lorne chuckled as he merged with bridge traffic. Then after checking the mirrors again, he said, "I own a fourplex in Snowy Creek, only a five-minute walk down the trail into the town centre – a minute or two's ski to the Blackcomb and Whistler gondolas."

"Ooh! And one of the units is unbooked."

"I keep a personal unit out of the accommodation pool, so it's my weekend home from November to the end of glacier skiing in July – except when sailing weather tempts me away."

"Sweet! Nathan and I mountain biked Whistler several times each summer."

"What about skiing?"

"Before we moved to the Okanagan, then always Big White. Mum and Dad have a condo there." We carried on our banter, continuing to catch up on the missed years as we drove along Howe Sound and up the Chekamus Canyon to Whistler.

Shortly past one, Lorne pulled into the driveway of a large fieldstone and cedar building, pushed a button on the dashboard, and as the garage door opened, he said, "Welcome to our refuge for the next while."

"Oh, my God! This is spectacular."

"Bought it in the post-Olympics slump."

I snorted a laugh. "That doesn't diminish its awesomeness."

"True." Lorne drove in and parked. "Let's unload, then walk down to find lunch; it's now past one."

"Is it safe down there? My red hair? Your broad shoulders, blond curls and beard? They have all the webcam images of us. We're so easily identifiable."

"They wouldn't be here – too small with only fifteen thousand population. The task force findings show they've targeted cities with a hundred thousand and above – they need a large supply of fresh dupes."

"But they have that here, Lorne. More than a million overnight visitors per year."

"Damn! Now nearly two million." Lorne shook his head. "Completely missed that. Other tourism centres – Banff and Niagara Falls would also have a steady flow of diners to dupe."

I lifted the cooler bag from the trunk. "We have the rest of the jambon persillé, cheese and so on – no need to go down."

Lorne swept me into a hug. "Yeah. Let's do that, Kate. Now, who's keeping whom safe?"