Due North Chapter 2

The huge fluffy snowflakes were softly falling from the starry northern sky outside the hotel window. All covered in blanket Kate was re-reading her mother's diaries, hoping to find some clues she had missed. It's been two weeks already, but she hasn't made a lot of progress. So far, she knew, her father's name was constable Brian Campbell (that's the only one who fit the profile), who died under unexplained circumstances 25 years ago. According to the witness' reports, he had some disputes with a former Mayer and now a top-10 Canadian richest businessman – Mr. Henry Bouchard. And that was it! There was no one who would remember him at the station – the Mounties (that's how they called the police officers there) were too young to know him. Except, maybe sergeant Fraser, but Kate did some digging and found out, he was doing some liaison business in Chicago at the time of the events. So, there was no point asking him.

Normally, Kate would be deep in Bouchard's personal e-mails by now, but here in Canada she had met an adversary she could not defeat – the northern weather. That evil enemy has deprived her of the most important advantage – the access to the internet. Since the storm came, the only spot where she could be connected was above the desk at the police station, under the picture of a maple tree (maybe it was blessed or something?!).

Kate looked outside the window, hoping to find out the snowfall had ended. No luck! The radio in the next room was playing a sad Canadian song about family matters. Kate felt some weird tickling in her nose. That's it! She couldn't keep sitting here feeling sorry for herself. She got dressed, took her laptop, and went to the police station.


Dief jr. couldn't get asleep and Fraser was keeping him company, while reading his father's journals. That dog (well, a quarter wolf actually) was too lazy and too addicted to junk food to get a normal sleep. That was Fraser's fault, of course. He wasn't giving him enough opportunities to exercise. Back in the days when Fraser and Diefenbaker senior had their time in Chicago, catching villains, fighting crime… they had no time to feel soft. Yes, Dief's jr. father was a fine wolf. Even when he got old, he stayed a hero, saving a herd of caribou from a poacher at the cost of his own life.

"Could we take a walk in our father's steps and hold the hand of our mother's dress and call each other just one last time?" asked the singer on the radio. The question Fraser has been asking himself frequently. His parents died a long time ago. He had a sister, but they haven't met since she got married to Toronto's most successful surgeon. Nice man! Invited Fraser to move to the city. But Fraser's home was here in the north. There was also his friend and partner, Ray. Two of them, actually. One stayed in USA, the other came to the Northwest Territories with Fraser to look for adventures, but as soon as he got used to the weather it was not challenging enough for him, so he volunteered to go to a certain hostile country as a spy. And now Fraser was left alone.

Dief whined. Probably the song brought back his memories too. Yes, he has gone soft. They both have. Well, no time like the present, as his father used to tell him, after he was dead (long story, that involved Uncle Tiberius and some cabbage). Fraser stood up, got dressed.

"Let's go!" he said, and Dief gladly followed him out of the cabin.


Dief's paw prints were hard to hide in the fresh powder, as he pretended to be chasing a criminal. Fraser encouraged him to move as slowly and silently as possible.

"Now attack!" Fraser gave the command. Dief jumped and ran. Fraser followed.

"Good. Keep up the pace!" said Fraser, then suddenly noticed a distant light at the police station. Fraser looked at Dief. The dog looked back at him understandingly. Fraser nodded, and they both rushed to the station, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Fraser went to the back entrance, as he knew there was a spare rifle in the closet there. Dief went through the wolf entrance – the one that had been built for his father as a reward for his assistance to the mounted police.

Fraser loaded the rifle, sneaked into the office with lights on, took an aim on the imposter. At the same time, Dief jumped in, ready to attack.

"You're going to shoot a Fed? They'll hunt you to the ends of the Earth," said Kate, not even looking at the confused couple. She was sitting on the table, legs crossed, holding her laptop high in the air, and trying to type something very fast.

"Stay!" said Fraser to Dief. The dog whined, feeling guilty.

"What are you doing here?" asked Fraser.

"Working," Kate replied, still typing.

"At this hour?"

"You'll never know when the next storm comes and shuts the power off. Is this a problem, sergeant?"

Fraser felt guilty. After all, he, of all people, should understand determination.

"Can I do something to help?" he suggested.

"No!" the last thing Kate needed was the help of this senior boy scout with his million and one questions on how and why she got access to Bouchard's personal e-mails. But the Mountie had no intentions to leave.

"You know, the Inuit once told me a legend about a caribou who got lost in the mountains far away from home. It ran up and up and up until the strengths deserted it. So, when a hunter found the caribou, it could not even move to get away from him." Fraser often used this story on different occasions, this one seemed appropriate, although he had doubts Kate knew what a caribou was.

"The stupid animal forgot to save. I'd never make that mistake," Kate summarised the moral. Fraser smiled. This new generation was so into technology! But he was not ready to give up.

"When I first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of my father, I felt like an alien from another planet. Everything seemed different – the weather, the people, the money… But only with the help of a local police officer, whose methods I found… well… disputable, did I manage…"

"What's an Ooulu?" interrupted Kate.

"Pardon?"

"Ooulu. It might be a place or a monument," explained Kate. She deliberately forgot to mention this word came up in the restored 25 years old Bouchard's e-mail to her father.

"I think it was a name of an old factory, 7 kilometres from here. But it has been closed for more than 20 years."

"Can you show me?"

"I suppose I can. Oh, you mean, now?!"

"Unless you've got other business to attend to," Kate realized, she began to speak fancy. Hopefully, it would pass after she gets back to Chicago.

"I'd be happy to help, but it's a little dark yet," naturally Fraser was not concerned about himself. The city lady probably had no idea how to walk long distance through the snow in the dark.

"Well, in the city we have this technology – an electric lightbulb that can be attached to the forehead. Maybe you have some of those?" Kate suggested.

"Yes, we've got headlamps."

"Perfect. Can you get them?" asked Kate.

"Of course," Fraser went to the closet and disappeared for a few minutes. Kate shut down her laptop, jumped down from the table and recalled the story she just heard. She suddenly realized she had a lot in common with the Mountie.

"So, did you find them?" asked Kate.

"Mhm," Fraser came out of the closet, wearing a headlamp, looking like he was interrupted, and attached a headlamp to Kate's forehead.

"The people who killed your father," Kate explained the previous question.

"Oh, as a matter of fact, I did. It was my father's best friend."

"That's why I don't have friends. Much safer this way," concluded Kate and went out. Fraser and Dief followed.


Both Fraser and Dief seemed to enjoy the cold, early morning air. Kate pretended she had no problem with it, either. Dief sniffed something on the ground and barked. Fraser and Kate noticed the footprints in the fresh powder. Fraser kneeled to look closely.

"Man's hunter boots, size 11, went northwest about 40 minutes ago," he concluded. "See, here in the north, Mother Nature keeps for us the track of the past events: who, when and where had left a footprint. You don't have that in the city!"

"Yes, we do. We call it log files," mumbled Kate, realizing the joke would most definitely be lost on Fraser. But he seemed to get it.

Dief barked again and ran. Fraser and Kate had no other options but to follow him.

Dief was growling angrily at the dumpster by the factory. Without hesitation, Fraser jumped into the dumpster.

"Oh, dear!" he said a second later.

"What is it?" asked Kate, calculating her chances of bringing back the Mountie if he had broken his leg or something.

Fraser climbed out of the dumpster, holding an unidentifiable, dead skinless animal. Kate turned away, as she felt sick. Dief barked angrily.

"My thoughts exactly!" Fraser said.


The factory was obviously operational. Kate and Fraser heard the noise of running machines as they entered. Kate was relieved to feel her phone vibrating in her pocket, as it caught the internet signal. "Civilisation, finally," she thought to herself. Fraser was not that excited.

"I suggest you go back to the station and call for backup," he whispered, realizing Kate was not fit for what's to come.

"Already done," reported Kate, as she didn't need a lot of time to send a message, as long as she had access to the net.

"Ah," said Fraser, trying to think of another excuse to send her back, but it was too late – two armed criminals were coming their way. With fast Bruce Lee-style movements Fraser knocked them down before they could make a sound. Kate was bewildered. Of course, she had seen the fights before. Jack, in particular, was very good at ass-kicking. But Jack was in his 30ies, while Fraser was senior.

As they entered the main hall, they could clearly see the giant robotic mechanisms moving, as well as at least two other criminals – one on the first, and one on the second level of the hall.

"Let's take cover before the shooting starts!" Fraser suggested, and they hid behind the pile of huge boxes. The criminals spotted them and indeed began to shoot.

"Got a plan?" Kate asked, calculating the time for the backup to get to the factory.

"Yes. Disarm and arrest everyone here for animal abuse," answered Fraser. Kate frowned. She could not figure out if he was joking or delusional. Maybe both.

"It might help, if you brought me on the case, though," suggested Fraser, as he moved to another pile of boxes. Kate followed.

"It's about my father, constable Brian Campbell, who was killed here 25 years ago," Kate summarized.

"And you came here on the tail of his killers?" asked Fraser.

"Sort of." Kate was not ready to provide more information than needed.

"Just as I suspected – pelts," Fraser announced, as he investigated one of the boxes. "Keep moving before… Oh, dear!" As he looked back, he saw a gun pointed at Kate's head. The big bold criminal was prepared to shoot Kate in the head but hesitated to watch what Fraser's got.

"Perhaps you haven't thought this through, son!" Fraser started negotiating in his calm and soothing voice.

"How so?" asked the bold criminal.

"The Inuit once told me…" no, that would not work in this situation, he must come up with something more persuasive than the caribou story! "You have got only one gun. If you shoot her, the recoil will give me enough time to disarm and arrest you."

"The Inuit told you that?" asked the criminal.

"Actually, it was my grandmother."

"Your grandmother was a shooter?!"

"No, she was a librarian," explained Fraser.

"Dangerous occupation," concluded the criminal.

"Indeed, it is. Once, there was a fire and my grandmother…"

"So, what would your grandmother suggest I should do in the current situation?" interrupted the criminal.

"I suppose she would suggest letting the girl go and shooting me while she runs away."

"Didn't like you very much, did she?"

"On the contrary, I remember this one time when we went to a pig farm…"

"You see, there is one little flaw in your theory. I do have another gun," the criminal pointed up and Fraser noticed another criminal taking aim at him from the second level.

"Well, perhaps you did think this through after all," concluded Fraser. The bold criminal grinned.

But before he could pull the trigger, the giant mechanical claw came their way and knocked him down, while Kate ducked. Fraser grabbed the claw and began to climb up.

Needless to say, Kate did not expect Fraser's blubbering to save them. Instead, she secretly used the phone in her pocket to get hold of the claw via Bluetooth. And as soon as she did… well… let's just say there are certain amusement parks she's been banned at in her early childhood after having won all the plush pokemons from the claw machine. Funny thing, the management of the park was not frustrated by the fact that a little girl had beaten the machine, but rather by the fact she had left the toys on the ground, as she was only interested in the game.

The claw was hanging on a big chain, swinging from side to side, as Fraser climbed up. The 2nd level criminal was shooting at him, but kept missing, until Diefenbaker attacked him from behind and bit his hand. The criminal lost his gun, tried to get away from the dog, but fell down. Fraser jumped down from the claw and landed on his feet like a cat. He checked the pulse of both criminals to make sure they were alive and exhaled with relief. Just at this time, the Mounties from the station marched in, ready to arrest everyone they see.

"Good job, miss Metcalf," said Fraser, as he approached Kate. "I'm sure constable Campbell would be very proud to have a smart and brave daughter like you. I know I would."

Kate usually hated the compliments and "well done" talks, but this time, hearing it from this man for some reason made her feel sentimental.

Meanwhile, the bold criminal came to his senses. He laughed hysterically as constable Evans cuffed him.

"So, you're Campbell's daughter?" he asked, laughing. "He was the one who kept this pelt business running in the first place, you know? Keeping the Mounties away and all. Until he got greedy, and they whacked him. So, this is your legacy now, princess! Enjoy!"

Kate could not move a muscle. She felt her heart could stop beating any minute and she wouldn't mind it. Turned out she WAS related to a criminal. And not just some bank-robber, but the worst kind of them all – a dirty cop.