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Subterfugal Force

Playing the Odds

By Spencer CarrPublished 3 years ago 10 min read
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English Bay, Vancouver. Inspiration for the setting of the story's climax.

Jackie had been sitting at the bar, sipping a glass of the cheapest, shittiest vodka they had to offer, as the hockey game played itself out on the TVs above her. She could almost see the money draining from her account with each second that passed on the game clock.

“Hey.”

She turned, and to her right, someone had sat down beside her, his hand held out in greeting. He looked like an accountant, almost aggressively unassuming. Wide glasses did their best to distract from a hairline that was beginning to fade, and he wore a five-o’clock shadow that wasn’t doing him any favours. Average height, average weight, average looks - he was so average that it was actually remarkable.

“Hey.” She shook his hand.

“I’m Isaac. You’re… Jackie, right?”

“I am. Sorry, do we know each other? I already wasn’t interested, and greeting me by name when I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before isn’t doing you any favours.”

Isaac grinned and held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not trying to hit on you. Sorry if I gave you that impression. I work with your brother; I don’t think we’ve met.” A bolt of lightning coursed down Jackie’s spine. “I’m in analytics with him.”

“Devon never talked about his work with me. You guys aren’t allowed to, right?”

“Well, in theory, no. For the most part.”

Jackie downed the rest of the awful vodka in a single gulp. She glanced back at the screen: two minutes left in the third period, and the Canucks were down 4-1. She could picture the overdraft fees already.

Isaac’s voice cut into her thoughts. “Christ, that stuff smells awful. Say, what’s your poison? I’ll buy you a round.”

“Whiskey.”

“That’s it? Any type?”

“Whatever’s cheapest. Beggars and choosers, right?”

Isaac stroked his chin. “Mmm. Makes sense.” He motioned to the bartender. “Grab us two glasses of Glenmorangie 18, on the rocks.” He turned back to her. “Hope that’s ok.”

“I, uhh…”

“On the rocks, I mean. You don’t take it neat?”

“No, that’s fine. But if you’re hoping to impress me with expensive whiskey so that I’ll go home with you, I’ll tell you right now that you’re wasting your time. And money.”

“Why accept, then?”

She waved the empty vodka glass at him. “Free drinks are free drinks. I’d be dumb not to.”

The glasses clinked as the bartender set them down in front of them. The whiskey poured from the bottle in a golden cascade, thick and dark and smoky-smelling, smoothing out the edges of the ice cubes as it flowed over them and settled to the bottom of the tumblers.

As the bartender took the empty vodka glass and left the two of them to drink, the goal horn sounded on the TV. The game was over; the Canucks had lost 5-1, the other team scoring an empty-net goal in the last 30 seconds just to add insult to injury. Jackie felt like somebody had dropped a rock into her stomach. “Fuck.”

Isaac looked over at her. “You ok? Not a scotch person? I can get you something else if-“

“No. Canucks just lost.” She nodded towards the TV.

“Not the outcome you were hoping for?”

She shook her head.

“I thought it might not be. You know, your brother has mentioned your habits a couple of times.”

Jackie wasn’t quite sure what it was, but she was suddenly acutely uncomfortable. Something has shifted in the way Isaac held himself, in the way he spoke, that reminded her of a predator spotting prey. She wanted badly to escape, some base animal instinct telling her to get out of there at all costs. She forced herself to breathe deeply, reaching out and taking another sip of the expensive Scotch. It was, she had to admit, delicious. “Has he?”

“He has. And he also mentioned your… financial situation.” He leaned forward a bit, towards her, as casually as if they’d been old friends catching up over drinks. “How much did you just lose, Jackie? Four thousand? Five?”

She was frozen now, her body not responding to her brain like it should have been. All she could do was nod, once, a stiff up-and-down motion.

“From what your brother’s said, you’re nearly broke. Pardon the analogy, but if I were a betting man, I’d wager that your stake in that game represented the last of your assets?”

“It might have.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Isaac leaned back, resting his elbow on the bar and taking a sip of his drink as punctuation. “Devon’s worried about you, you know. I’d hate to see you put him through something like this.”

“There’s a reason we don’t talk anymore.”

“I know. You’re not too fond of our profession. I understand that, Jackie. Even respect it. However, if you were to put your emotions aside for a short while, there’s a chance that we could help you out of your situation. In exchange for a small favour.”

There it was. She’d known on some level that it would be coming.

“We’ve been having some problems with another department. I can’t get into the details without divulging classified information, but suffice it to say that we’re being stonewalled by the boss. Politics. You’re familiar with Hayford Park?”

“Yeah. By the water, right?”

“That’s the one. All we need is for someone to plant a small surveillance device within the park, on one of the benches.”

“A bug?”

“If you want to call it that, yes. As we’ve been repeatedly denied permission to plant it, we were hoping that a deniable asset such as yourself might be of use. It’s quite simple.” He produced something from a briefcase Jackie hadn’t noticed. It was a small plastic rectangle, matte-black, and a little smaller than her phone. “This is the device. All you would need to do is stick it to the bottom of the correct bench. There’s an adhesive strip on the back, see? Peel that off and stick it on. That’s all we need.”

“That’s all?”

“It is. After that, you can simply get up and walk away. There’s virtually no risk to yourself. Now, compensation… how does ten thousand dollars sound?”

“That…” It would be enough to pay off all the debt she had accrued over the past few weeks, with enough left over to cover rent next month. Her gut was screaming at her to get the hell out of there. Her brain was screaming at her to take it. The seconds she spent trying to figure out her reply, to filter her thoughts through the slight haze of alcohol that had descended on her mind, felt like hours. Finally, something clicked, and she spoke.

“I’ll do it.”

# # #

As she trudged towards the park, her phone buzzed twice. The first message was a map of the park with the correct bench circled. The second was a message that simply read We know your account details; the money will be wired to you later tonight once we’ve had someone confirm attachment of the device. Once the device is in place, head home. Do not return to the bar. Attached was a map of the city, with her apartment building circled like the park bench. The threat didn’t need to breach the message’s subtext to make itself known.

Approaching the bench, the sea breeze picked up, warm evening wind playing across her face and carrying with it the sounds of the mid-July beachgoers and tourists crowding downtown. She sat down, pulled out the bug, and was about to peel off the adhesive when a voice rang out a few feet behind her.

“Jackie Evans?” She tried not to show her fear, not to feel like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Yeah?” She turned around.

“Ethan Nguyen, CSIS.” Where Isaac had hid his appearance, had presumably carefully crafted the image of the dull businessman over years, Ethan had done the opposite. He held a wallet open in his right hand, some sort of government ID and police badge displayed. His suit had to be at least two thousand dollars, the watch on his wrist an order of magnitude more. “It’s my understanding that you were approached earlier this evening by a mister Isaac Harris?”

It was probably just the scotch, but Jackie found herself filled with a sudden burst of bravery. “I was. Who wants to know?”

Nguyen crossed around to the front of the bench, sat down beside her, tucked his wallet back into his pocket. “That would be me. I’m Isaac’s boss.” He shifted. “Well, it’s a bit more complex than that. I’m in a different department; he doesn’t actually answer to me. I outrank him, though.”

Jackie simply stared at him.

“What did he tell you he did?”

“Analytics.”

Nguyen chuckled. “Of course he did. What did he ask you to do?” Nguyen didn’t exude the same aura of thinly-veiled threat that Isaac had, and it was somehow worse.

“To plant this. Under the bench.” She held up the bug. “He said it was a listening device.”

“And how much is he paying you?”

“Ten thousand.”

“Hmm.” Nguyen pulled a chequebook and pen out of his breast pocket and scribbled on it for a moment, before tearing off a cheque and holding it out to her. “I’ll offer you double that to not plant it.”

“What?” As she reached out to grab the cheque, she tried, and almost succeeded, to convince herself that her hands were shaking only from awe of being handed a cheque for twenty grand and not fear.

“I can’t go into the details, but suffice it to say that Isaac and Devon aren’t analysts. Their team is being investigated for corruption, and we believe that this device has something to do with an outside connection of theirs.”

“And why would I trust you? I don’t know any of you. Aren’t they watching us right now?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to trust me right now – hence the money. And no, they’re not watching right now, and won’t be for…” Nguyen glanced at his watch. “Two more minutes. I’ve made sure of that. If it eases your mind, you can tell yourself that there’s no way to know if that’s really a bug or not. It could be a dead drop or a bomb, for all they’ve told you.” He dug briefly in his other pocket before producing an identical-looking device. “Plant this instead. It’s a decoy that will allow us to monitor them.”

A thin smile crossed Nguyen’s face for a second. “Oh, and one last thing.” Out of the same pocket that had held the chequebook, he produced a small pocket notebook, its black leather cover wrinkled and bruised by wear and tear. “This notebook contains all the information I’ve been gathering about the case. Totally off the record. As of tonight, that includes all the intelligence that CSIS has on you. I have everything that Isaac knows and more. Address, bank account, family, boyfriends, girlfriends, jobs, drugs, internet history, gambling debts. I know the hole you’ve dug yourself into, Jackie, and if you contact anybody about this, if you tell Devon or Isaac, I’ll know that too.” His tone was so calm that it took Jackie a few seconds to realize he was threatening her.

He tucked the notebook back into his pocket and glanced briefly again at his watch. “I thought you’d like to take that into consideration. With that in mind…” he held out both hands; one was empty, the other contained the decoy bug. “I’d recommend you work with me.”

Jackie glanced down briefly at the cheque in her hand, mind working furiously. She was starting to panic before she realized that she just had to do what she always did: play the odds. Bad information, high stakes, random chance? She was used to all of that.

She was already in debt. Might as well go double-or-nothing.

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