Текст книги "Jack Taggart Mysteries 7 - Book Bundle"

Автор книги: Don Easton

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Текущая страница: 49 (всего у книги 141 страниц)

“Russian, Spanish, and English,” said Jack. “You’re not afraid to learn, are you?”

“You can also add French and German to the list. No, I am not afraid to learn. Perhaps in the next few days we will learn things from each other.”

Donato paused to answer another knock at the door. He spoke quickly to one of his men before returning and announcing, “Now, some good news. From what we have heard they have simply come to Varadero to relax and enjoy themselves ... so you two can do likewise.”

“That’s not good news,” said Jack, glumly.

“No, my friend! Let me finish. Then they plan on returning to Havana where they are meeting someone before leaving Cuba.”

“Great,” replied Jack, returning Laura’s thumbs-up sign.

“Do you know if these Russians are dealing with someone who is an Arab?” asked Donato.

“Not that we’re specifically aware of. They’ve made phone calls to several Arab countries. It is possible they could be involved with smuggling heroin or hashish out of Afghanistan. Why?”

“They mentioned a restaurant in Havana that they would be meeting at. Moustache Pete said it would make whoever they are meeting feel at home. The restaurant is called Al Medina. It is the only Arab restaurant in Havana.”

“It doesn’t really make sense to me,” admitted Jack. “If their original meeting was in Costa Rica, it should be with someone from South America arranging to bring a boatload of cocaine to Canada.”

“Perhaps Costa Rica was just a place to blend business and pleasure,” suggested Donato. “It might be drugs from Afghanistan after all.”

“Perhaps,” replied Jack. “Seizing a boatload of heroin would be even better.”

“We are conducting background checks with Moscow on Moustache Pete and the Fat Man. We will learn more about these Russian schoolteachers.”

“Russia?” said Jack, surprised. “If you get anything back at all, I imagine it will be next year sometime.”

“We have a much better relationship,” replied Donato. “I expect to hear back tonight.”

“Tonight!” said Jack in amazement. “Your relationship with Russia is far better.”

“I have a question for you,” said Donato. “How long does it take you to get information from the United States?”

“Fast ... if it is unofficial. Only a matter of minutes,” replied Jack.

“For me, it is the same with Russia. Perhaps you and I may help each other in the future,” suggested Donato.

Jack nodded and passed Donato a business card.

“Thank you,” said Donato, while reciprocating with his own business card. “Now, about these Russians, my staff will handle all the necessary surveillance and investigative duties. They will be monitored every minute they are here, so you can sit back and enjoy yourselves. I will keep you appraised.”

“I would like to see whoever they are meeting,” said Jack.

“We will have photos—but I understand. I will see what can be arranged. For the next few days, I think you can enjoy the beauty that my country has to offer. For the most part, I will remain by your side. It would not be wise for the Russians to see your faces and I will always be informed of their movements. Another cerveza?” he asked, looking at Laura.

Laura shook her head and said, “Thanks, but no. I’m exhausted. I think it’s time for me to turn in.”

“Likewise,” said Jack, getting to his feet.

Donato’s phone rang and he answered it, speaking rapidly in Russian, but paused to look at Jack and Laura. “Wait!” he ordered, before returning to speaking Russian.

Jack and Laura each sat back down. Jack saw the surprised look on Donato’s face change to that of a frightened man.

Something is terribly wrong ...

chapter thirteen

“They’re what?” Jack couldn’t believe what he was just told. The impact was still sinking in.

“You might call them schoolteachers,” continued Donato. “Both of them did teach at various military institutions in Russia. The one you call the Fat Man has his degree in microbiology. Moustache Pete has a degree in history and was a high-ranking officer in the Russian infantry.”

The shipment will be as white as snow, thought Jack. Microbiology ... chemical warfare, anthrax?

“Jack,” said Laura. “They were looking at navigational charts around Seattle! Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I think all three of us are,” said Jack. No wonder Damien was scared of these guys! He knew this! Those text books in the apartment he told us about. Sure, maybe they were in Russian, but they were bound to have graphs, maybe a periodic chart of elements or a conceptual flow chart of microbes—

“Oh, man,” said Laura as she started to put everything together. “This is a plot to smuggle a dirty bomb into the States.”

Jack was still thinking of Damien. If Satans Wrath was linked with terrorists, they’d be slam-dunked by the government of every country they operated in. Half of them would end up in Guantanamo Bay, or secret prisons elsewhere in the world. Maybe never heard from again ...

“Calls to Iran, Saudi Arabia ...” continued Laura.

“This changes everything,” said Donato, quickly getting to his feet. “I must leave for Havana immediately. You will both remain in the hotel until I speak with you. Understood?”

“I understand,” said Jack. “We’ll be here.”

“We’re dealing with terrorists,” said Laura, as soon as they were alone. “It has to be! It all adds up.”

“Explains why our friend with Satans Wrath was scared and made it clear they were not involved. Tipping us off about them was just his way of covering his ass.”

“We’re going to have to tell the brass,” said Laura. “We can’t stay mum about this. We could be talking about thousands of lives here.”

“I know, but right now, it’s the Cubans who discovered this. It’s their ball game. I don’t want to do, or say anything ... without their approval.”

Laura nodded and said, “Donato is heading back to Havana, I bet we don’t see him much before noon tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” replied Jack, glancing at his watch. “I feel sorry for him tonight.”

“How so?”

“How receptive do you think Fidel will be to being woken up at this hour?”

Jack tried to sleep, but found it virtually impossible. By morning, he was just beginning to doze when the hotel came alive. After listening to the movement of hotel guests and the cheery voices of maids going about their business, he finally gave up on the idea. A cool shower helped him wake up before he put on a pair of cargo shorts and stepped out on his balcony. The day was hot, humid, and sunny.

“Can’t sleep?” called Laura.

Jack saw Laura on her own balcony and waved her over. Breakfast was included at the hotel, but, not wanting to take a chance of the Russians seeing them, they ordered room service.

Later, from their balconies, they could see the sandy white beaches and azure colour of the sea beyond. Neither one was able to appreciate the magnificent beauty as they paced back and forth in the room, trying to walk off the stress that accumulated with each passing hour.

It was ten-thirty at night when Jack answered the knock on his door and let Donato inside.

“I apologize for keeping you both waiting,” said Donato. Jack noticed that Donato was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. The dark circles under his bloodshot eyes said that he hadn’t been to bed at all.

“That’s okay, Donato,” said Jack. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the two chairs in the room while he sat on the bed.

“Anything happen with the Russians today?” asked Laura.

“They drank lots and picked up prostitutes. Nothing of importance. Also nothing of importance found in their rooms.”

“Too bad,” said Jack.

“Now, on this matter,” said Donato, leaning forward in his chair. “We have a crisis that we need to discuss.”

“A crisis?” replied Jack. “I think we may have just averted one. I’m sure their meeting in Cuba is just a matter of convenience. If this turns out to be terrorists trying to attack the States, you can just notify them and be done with it. As far as Canada goes, our own Intelligence Service, along with the RCMP, will likely work with them.”

Donato shook his head and said, “It is not that easy, my friend. Are either of you familiar with the Cuban Five?”

“I never heard of it,” said Laura.

“I’ve heard of them,” said Jack. “I once did a Google search of the Cuban Five on the Internet. Lots of info, but it is difficult to understand and know who to believe.”

“Then perhaps you will believe me,” said Donato. “Our country has had many terrorist groups attack it over the years, including threats from expatriates and gangsters who are based out of Miami. In the mid-1990s we managed to get five undercover Intelligence Officers into some of the terrorist groups and uncovered plans to bring a boat full of explosives to Cuba.”

“Good going,” said Laura.

Donato shook his head to indicate she was wrong, and continued. “Our agents could have simply blown the boat up, but they were concerned that some innocent person could be injured. Perhaps an American citizen. Instead, my government informed the FBI about the boat and gave them documentation telling them who our agents were. The FBI seized the boat of explosives and arrested our five agents. That was in September 1998. They were charged with being spies in the U.S. and are still in prison.”

Oh, man, brooded Laura, sort of like Jack and I coming here ...

“So as you can see, our relationship is not good. We are concerned that the U.S. still considers us a terrorist state.

For someone now to meet on Cuban soil and plan such an attack on the U.S. ... it might give them reason to attack us, without having to say they were looking for weapons of mass destruction.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

“Do you understand our dilemma?” asked Donato.

Jack nodded and asked, “So what do you intend to do?”

“We will help, but we would prefer to pass the information through to you. We ask that you not disclose to the Americans where this information came from or that the Russians even came to Cuba.”

“You’ve got our word on that,” said Jack.

“After all, it would appear that Cuba was simply picked as an alternative to Costa Rica. Where the meeting takes place should not matter—but we cannot risk that the Americans would feel that way. Our position is that it is what is said at the meeting that could be of significance.”

“Not where it is said,” agreed Jack.

Donato nodded.

“So, despite how the States has treated you in the past, you are still willing to help them?” asked Jack.

“Of course. Many innocent people could be hurt if action is not taken. What is your expression? Two wrongs don’t make it right? We simply prefer that they never know we helped.”

“I won’t disclose where the meeting took place,” said Jack. “I’ll say that to do so would disclose the identity of a confidential source.”

Donato gave a wry smile and said, “I presume I am that source.”

Jack nodded and said, “I have a reputation for protecting my sources, so that is not unusual. The only problem could be with a Costa Rican policeman by the name of Eduardo. He knows we are here with the Russians, but it is extremely unlikely that he would present a problem.”

“I doubt that a Costa Rican policeman would ever connect your investigation, into what you indicated was cocaine importation, with a potential terrorist threat on the Americans.”

“Exactly. It is still a loose end, but his interest in the matter was only in relation to what was happening in Costa Rica.”

“If he ever did say something, then so be it.”

“Eduardo seemed like a good type. He did promise to keep our trip here secret.”

“Of course. To protect you from your boss ... the asshole,” said Donato.

“Yes, the pendejo,” said Laura.

Donato gave a faint smile and said, “Very good, Laura. Now you know two words of Spanish.”

Late the following morning, Jack, Laura, and Donato dressed in beach clothes and walked along a short street leading to the beach. On the way, Jack noticed a chain-link fence and a sign.

“Laura, look,” he said.

Behind the chain-link fence was a sign with two small Canadian flags attached. The sign identified the place as the Canadian consulate.

“Open from one-thirty to five-thirty every day except Wednesday and Sunday,” commented Laura, reading the sign. “Think we should pop in later and say hello?”

“Hell, no! I don’t even want to walk past this place again.”

The beach was the nicest of any Jack had ever seen. The sand was white and clean and his bare feet felt like he was walking on warm velvet. Any of the locals he encountered were quick with a smile.

They found a small restaurant facing the beach where four musicians strummed guitars and beat lively Latin music. They all ordered beer and a quarter roasted chicken that they took down to the beach, where they sat on lounge chairs and dangled their feet in the water. Jack decided that the cold Bucanero tasted just as good as it had the first night he arrived and for a moment, could feel his body start to relax.

Donato received a visit from one of his staff members.

“The Russians are walking this way on the beach,” said Donato. “If we go back to the restaurant we should see them pass by.”

As they stood under the awning of the restaurant, Laura was the first to comment. “I think that is just about the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said.

Jack saw what Laura was looking at and immediately lost his appetite. “That’s not funny,” he replied, wondering if the chicken was perhaps a little too greasy.

The Russians strolled past on the beach. They each wore Speedos, along with black socks and sandals.

Later that evening, Jack bought a bottle of rum and the three of them returned to his room.

“Here’s to catching bad guys,” said Jack, raising his glass of rum and Coke. “No matter what nationality they are—or where they are in the world.”

“And to protecting the innocent,” added Donato, as the three of them clinked the glasses in unison.

“You have pictures of your family?” asked Jack, a moment later.

Donato nodded, taking out his wallet and showing a picture of his wife, three sons, and two daughters.

“My oldest son died,” said Donato softly, pointing at the picture. “It was night. He did not see the car coming. It had no lights. He was nine.”

“I am sorry,” said Jack.

“It has left a sadness in my wife’s eyes for two years now.”

Laura swallowed, and said, “Your children look beautiful.”

Donato beamed. “They are,” he answered, before asking, “You both have children?”

Jack shook his head. “I just got married a year and a half ago.”

“That is plenty of time to make a baby,” chuckled Donato. “In Cuba, we would have two babies by then. How about you, Laura? Children?”

“My husband and I have been trying for years. I became pregnant, but ...” she stopped and her eyes watered.

“I am sorry, Laura,” said Donato. “It was rude of me to ask such a personal question.”

“It’s okay,” she replied. “I really love children. Some day I will have one to call my own.”

“Likewise,” said Jack. “Likewise.”

“Then,” said Donato, “When this is over, the both of you must return for a visit. Bring your wife, Jack, and your husband, Laura. You are welcome to share my roof with my family. I would consider it an honour.”

“Perhaps the day will come where you are also free to travel,” said Jack. “I would also consider it an honour for you to come and stay with me.”

Donato nodded, but turned his gaze to the wall, wondering if that day would ever come.

Later that night, Jack went down to the lobby and sent Natasha an e-mail. He told her that he was being well cared for by the Cubans. They have little, but are willing to share what they do have, he wrote. A very proud people. I want to return here some day—with you!

The following morning, the Russians checked out of their hotel as scheduled. A different member of Donato’s staff took on the role of taxi driver and took them to Havana.

Jack and Laura went to pay for their rooms, only to be refused. “It was already looked after,” said the desk clerk.

Early that afternoon, Donato told Jack and Laura that the Russians checked into the Hotel Nacional in Havana. A place that Donato informed them was once frequented by Hollywood movie stars and old time gangsters like Al Capone.

Donato had Jack and Laura check in at the Hotel Saint John’s. It was a much more modest hotel located about a ten-minute walk away from where the Russians were staying. Jack, Laura and Donato were still in the lobby checking in when Donato received a call.

Donato put his hand over the receiver and whispered to Jack, “It is going as expected. Moustache Pete has already made a reservation tomorrow night at Al Medina. He reserved a table for four people.”

“Four?” replied Jack.

“Apparently they are meeting two people,” replied Donato. “The Russians are now drinking triple vodkas in the bar at the Hotel Nacional. One moment please,” added Donato, as he resumed his phone conversation in Spanish. “Bueno!” he said, and hung up.

“Good news?” asked Jack.

Donato smiled and said, “Prostitutes have now been invited to join them. I think tomorrow the Russians will be exhausted and sleep late. Our work will likely not begin until dinner time.”

“It will give Laura and me a chance to see Havana,” said Jack.

“Tomorrow, perhaps around eleven, I will meet you and give you both a tour of Havana. Tonight, I ask that you excuse me. I still have work to do and ...” Donato paused.

“And you would like to sleep with your wife,” added Jack.

Donato smiled and they said goodbye.

After checking into their rooms and cleaning up, Jack and Laura went to a restaurant beside the hotel before returning for a nightcap in the hotel lobby bar.

A vocal trio called the Trio Tesis were singing Latin songs in the lobby. Jack watched as the lead singer poured his heart out in a song entitled “Yolanda.” When the trio took a break, Jack discovered that the singer spoke English and purchased a compact disc of their songs.

“You’re very good,” said Jack. “You show a lot of emotion when you sing ‘Yolanda.’ Do you know someone by that name?”

“No,” he admitted. “But when I sing it, I think of my wife. She is a doctor and has been gone many months. The government sent her to help the people in Belize for six months. Soon she will return.”

When he left, Jack turned to Laura and raised his eyebrow.

Laura knew what he was thinking. “It’s amazing,” she said. “These people are so poor, yet they can still find it in their hearts to help others.”

“Not my impression of a terrorist state,” replied Jack.

The next morning, Jack and Laura strolled through the streets of Havana. The limestone Spanish architecture of the buildings would have made Havana, at one time, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Now, most of the buildings were in a severe state of decay and were crumbling down. Inside, whole families lived in darkened vestibules. Mothers swept the limestone dust outside where children used sticks as bats to play ball amongst the rubble.

“Do you see that?” said Laura, gesturing to a young girl holding the hand of a little boy as they came out of a building that apparently was their home. The building was dark inside, with the only visible light coming from a single bulb dangling from a high ceiling on a piece of wire.

“They’re spotless,” added Laura. “The both of them.”

Jack saw the white shirts the children wore. They looked perfect. “I read a newspaper in the lobby this morning,” he said. “The paper was called Granma.”

“Granma?” asked Laura. “Sounds like you were in an old folk’s home.”

“Actually, it is the name of the official newspaper of the Central Committee of the Cuban Communist Party. Granma was the name of the yacht that brought Fidel Castro to Cuba in 1956 to start the Cuban Revolution.”

“So what’s it got to do with these children?”

“The newspaper is not what you would call a free press. But one thing was obvious. They take great pride in looking after and educating their children. There was also an article about them assisting Venezuela with their illiteracy problem.”

“Most appear to live in squalor, but ...”

“Exactly. They still work hard to improve themselves. You can see it in their faces. I’ve been through ghettos in Canada where people sat waiting for handouts. Maybe we could learn something from these people.”

“I suspect the government of Cuba is too poor to give much in the way of handouts,” replied Laura.

Jack and Laura met Donato as scheduled and he took them to a more popular tourist area in Havana. The area was comprised of a few square blocks where many of the buildings had been restored. It was also where the Arab restaurant was located. Another restaurant that was also a microbrewery was just down the street and they went there for lunch.

“You both went for a walk this morning,” said Donato. “What do you think of my Havana?”

“Fifty years ago, I believe that this would have been the most beautiful city on the planet,” said Jack. “It still is beautiful, but ...”

“Yes, I know,” said Donato sadly. “The American embargo. It has taken its toll. Medicine, school supplies, parts for automobiles ...”

“From what I have seen,” said Jack, “the Americans have forced the Cuban people to walk barefoot over the coals ... but they have never brought you to your knees.”

Donato smiled, and said, “They never will. Still, it is difficult to understand why amends have not been made.”

“Allowing Russia to plant missiles here to be used against the Americans—can you really blame them for the retaliation?” asked Jack.

“That was in 1962,” said Donato. “I, like most of my countrymen, weren’t even born yet. The American mafia was taking over our country. Casinos, gangsters, drugs ... was it so wrong to kick them out and invite the Russians?”

“It does seem like a long time to punish someone,” said Laura. “Will peace ever be made?”

“I have a theory on that,” said Jack, watching Donato’s face closely. “I think there is more to it than the missiles. Back in the early 1960s, Fidel was targeted by the Kennedy administration on numerous assassination attempts.”

“This is true,” said Donato, eyeing Jack curiously.

“JFK was assassinated in 1963,” continued Jack. “I think that Fidel was exasperated and struck back. I also think the CIA is aware of this and will never allow peace between your countries as long as Fidel is in power.”

Donato looked around nervously and said, “It is not good to talk of such things. No politics, please.”

For Jack, it brought home the realization that he was in a communist country. Freedom to express or exchange ideas could bring retribution.

Jack was concerned that he had upset Donato, but within minutes, Donato was smiling and later took them on a drive around the city.

They returned to the Saint John’s at four o’clock and the three of them waited in Jack’s room. The Russians had slept most of the day, but it was reported that each one was now cleaning up and getting dressed to go out.

Conversation in Jack’s room was minimal and stilted, as each wondered what tonight—and the future—would bring.

At five o’clock, Donato drove them back to the vicinity of the Al Medina. He parked the car and took them to a nearby church with a high cathedral entrance.

“You’ve got an OP in a church?” asked Jack.

“What is an OP?” asked Donato.

“Observation post.”

“Yes, I see. It is not a church anymore. The government has turned it into a museum. It is closed to the public at this hour.”

Jack was going to ask how the parishioners felt about their church being closed, but decided against it.

Donato led them to a small room in the back and they went inside and closed the door.

“We can’t see from here,” said Jack.

“It is not to see,” said Donato. “It is to listen,” he said, gesturing to a mass of electrical cord and recorders on a table. “Others will see for us,” he explained. “Don’t worry, there will be many pictures. This is for you and Laura to listen. You will hear with your own ears.”

“I would have believed you,” said Jack, realizing the work Donato went to in setting up this room. He understood why they would not have been allowed entry to the normal facility the Cubans would use for such activity.

Donato smiled and said, “Yes, my friend. I trust you, too. But if it ever happens that someone finds out that this meeting was in Havana, they may not believe what you tell them if you only receive the details from me. It is best to hear for yourselves. You may make notes if you like, but I will also supply you with a tape of what they say. You could record it on your own recorder, if you like.”

“Thanks. We’d never be allowed to enter the tapes as evidence in a Canadian courtroom, but it still might be good to have.”

Donato received a call on a portable radio and said, “They’ve just taken a taxi,” he said. “They are on their way.”

The Russians arrived about ten minutes ahead of their reservation, but their table was ready and they sat down.

Donato turned up the volume on a recorder and Jack and Laura could hear Fat Man and Moustache Pete talking to each other in Russian, over the clink of ice cubes and water being poured.

“I know their voices by now,” said Donato. “I will translate for you. Moustache Pete just said something about an incident at the airport. I do not know what airport. He said they still have to be careful.”

Jack heard the Fat Man laugh and make a comment.

Donato looked puzzled and translated. “Fat Man said, that is why they carry insurance. With the police, insurance is always good.”

Insurance? Wondered Jack. Is there a leak? A crooked cop or someone ...

“They’ve arrived,” said Donato. “Two Arab men. Expensive suits, Rolexes ...”

Jack heard the conversation switch to English when the two Arabs sat down with the Russians.

After some general polite talk, Jack heard one of the Arabs ask, “So, when can you deliver?”

“Our people in Sweden were successful,” said Moustache Pete. “We have two that would be most suitable. Sisters raised by a single mother. They’re thirteen and fifteen years old. Both have blonde hair, blue eyes, and, as we promised, their skin is as white as snow.”

Jack’s mouth gaped open in surprise. “This is white slavery!” he said. “Not drugs or terrorism at all!”

The recorder droned on. “And beautiful?” asked the Arab.

“Of course,” laughed the Fat Man. “Their mother thinks they are being accepted as models to do a photo shoot in Morocco. They are both beautiful! As promised, we will make delivery in June. Their mother is adamant about them finishing the school year.”

“And virgins ...” the Arab’s voice was lost over Jack’s outrage.

“These bastards are kidnapping kids to sell to the Arabs to be used as sex slaves!”

Laura saw a sense of relief on Donato’s face. A potential crisis with the U.S. had just been averted. She felt relieved herself, until she looked at Jack.

Is he enraged ... or in pain? He’s been around too long to be shocked by this. Why such anguish?

Back at the hotel in Jack’s room, Donato raised a glass of rum and Coke and said, “It went well tonight. I wish you every success in putting these two Russians in jail.”

“Hear, hear,” said Laura, clinking glasses.

“They will go to jail,” said Jack. “If it is the last thing I do on the section, I will see to that.”

“Perhaps, now,” said Donato, “your boss, Captain Pendejo,” he added, smiling at Laura, “will realize that they were worthy of your attention.”

“Perhaps,” said Jack, “except we can’t tell him what we learned or that we were even here. He would have us both fired. Regardless, even if I’m not in the section long, I will still get these guys.”

“Come on, Jack,” said Laura. “Like you said before, Quaile is fast-tracked up the corporate ladder. He won’t be around long. We just have to outlast him.”

“Moustache Pete and The Fat Man are going down,” said Jack adamantly, “one way or the other.”

“No problem,” said Laura, eyeing Jack curiously. “We just continue to work on them behind Quaile’s back. Knowing what we know now, I bet these two are supplying the women for Tran’s massage parlours. We could get VPD to help us, or we could help them. Now that we know what they’re really doing, it shouldn’t take us long to get the evidence we need.”

“Jack, Laura,” said Donato, “if you will excuse me, I still have work to do tonight. I will be here in the morning to take you to the airport.”

Laura waited until they bid good night to Donato, before turning her attention to Jack. “You going to tell me about it?” she asked.

“About what?”

“You’re keeping something from me. A secret.”

“A secret?” Jack spat out the word like it was poison.

“Yes, a secret,” repeated Laura.

Jack put his glass down on the table and turned to Laura and said, “It’s funny you used that word. Let me tell you about a secret.”

By the tone of Jack’s voice, Laura knew there was nothing funny about what she was about to hear.

“Did you know I used to have three sisters and a brother?” he asked.

Laura shook her head and said, “I just knew you had an older sister, Elizabeth, who lives out near Chilliwack.”

“I was raised in a family of secrets,” said Jack. “My father was a brutal, domineering prick who ruled the house with absolute power. That power included sexually molesting my sisters from the time they were four years old.”

Laura briefly closed her eyes and said, “Oh, Jack ... I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

Jack sighed and said, “Neither did I, back then. I knew about the physical and psychological abuse ... but even as a policeman, I didn’t know about the sexual abuse until recently.”

“Jack ... I’m sorry. Maybe this is something you don’t want to talk about?”

Jack shook his head. “That is what the pedophiles like my father want. To keep everything secret. To try and make the children ... the victims, somehow think they are responsible. They make the children think that they have to keep the secret to maintain family unity. I’m not embarrassed to talk about it. No victim should be, either.”

“How did you find out?” asked Laura.

“My youngest sister, Bonnie, finally found the courage to tell me. Once I knew, then others admitted they had been victims, too. It turns out there were a lot. Neighbourhood children, relatives—even before my father was married, he visit orphanages and bring candy.”

“Classic,” said Laura.

“It was classic, all right. My oldest sister left home as soon as she could. Got married, had kids, but died of complications giving birth to her third child. I knew she hated my father and was extremely protective of her children—but I was too blind to put it together.”