Gordon paced the office, the brick of a cell phone clamped so tightly it threatened to break. The Chief Liaison officer wondered what his long distance bill would be when he finished.
"I know, but the kid is his father's son, he won't tell where Victoria Metcalf hid the money, he can't be tricked." A male voice on the other end of the phone swore roughly. "I won't do it, I won't kidnap the boy." Gordon's voice took a nasty tone to it. Fraser was more of an annoyance than a threat or a problem. What the voice said next made the Canadian bureaucrat's blood run cold. His reflection appeared remarkably pale in the window as he studied the city streets surrounding the consulate. Dealing with the bank president hadn't been his best decision to date. Henry Stonesbury had a reputation for being ruthless and conniving in the business world and out. His iceberg eyes were legendary for their electric spark when he was about to ax someone.
"Yes, I'll find the money." Gordon ended the call, still without an answer and in a bigger quandary than ever. He sighed before switching off the light and leave the consulate.
"Good night, Sir, have a good evening." Turnbull dusted the shade of a lamp in the foyer. Gordon waved as he let the door shut behind him.
Scene Break
"What are you and Ray doing tonight, Aunt Maggie?" Ben looked up at his aunt, a teasing tone in his voice as he sat on the couch.
"Another dinner date?" Fraser asked, his tone not teasing but his eyes dancing merrily. She shot him a reproachful glare before answering them both.
"Yes, another dinner date." She ran a brush through her short, thick, blonde ponytail as she got ready to leave for the skating rink.
With Aurora and Diefenbaker in tow they set out for the ice rink Fraser had arranged the day before. The mountie had been up early, gathering his gear and sharpening his blades. Maggie hadn't seen her half brother as excited in a long time.
"So, did Aunt Maggie tell you what your boss asked last night?" Ben started out, not looking directly at his father. Fraser whirled around, his gaze leveling on Maggie as she followed with the dogs.
"No, no she did not." Maggie felt the blood rush to her cheeks under Fraser's indignant, green eyes. "What did Mr. Gordon have to discuss?" He let his companions catch up. Anyone but Maggie and possibly Buck Frobisher were hard pressed to keep up with Fraser when he had a mind to take off walking, even after years spent treading Chicago. His stride was swift and efficient.
"Where my mother hid the money they stole." Ben answered, watching a passing bird overhead before turning back to the two mounties.
"And your answer was?" Ben watched his father watch him, Fraser's tongue rubbing the slightly imperfect eyetooth as he did so.
"The same answer I've given everyone who's asked, I don't know where the money is or if there was any money to begin with." The boy sighed, wondering what the mountie would do with the knowledge.
"Don't worry, Son, I'll take care of it." Those words nearly stopped the mountie in his tracks. He sounded so much like his father it felt eerie to hear. With a deep breath the RCMP officer set back about his pace without another word.
Chicago Ice had an empty parking lot on that Sunday morning as the three people and two dogs walked into the quiet, cold rink. The ice was as clear as any freshly washed windowpane. Around the surface not a soul stirred. Overhead a loudspeaker played classic, 1960's rock music. It was sunny and upbeat. Despite his preference for heavy metal it didn't sound too bad to Ben. Dief and Aurora settled themselves along one of the bleachers to watch.
"Fraser, good morning, how are you?" A short, burly man came out from behind the concession stand counter, a broad smile on his bearded face.
"Mr. Crook, thank you for allowing us the use of the rink this morning." Fraser shook hands with the tubby, smiling man.
"No problem, anything for you, Constable Fraser." His dark eyes looked over to Maggie and Ben.
"Mr. Crook, this is my sister, Maggie and my son, Ben." The dark eyed man politely shook hands with both of them.
"The rink is yours until eleven o'clock, help yourselves to the gear room." Mr. Crook handed Fraser the keys to the storage room behind the rental counter. Maggie found her gear easily, passing up the pink skates and favoring a pair of boys that looked sturdy. Ten minutes later she had an assortment of padding and protective equipment. It took Fraser longer to help Ben and change himself.
"Who taught you to play hockey, Aunt Maggie?" Ben asked before he slipped in a brand new mouth piece.
"My mother, actually, she was a fine goalie." Maggie smiled while Fraser nodded. He'd played a few games with Maggie and her mother over the years.
"Do you play any other sports, Ben?" Fraser asked, trying to determine how coordinated the boy was.
"A few pickup games of basketball, tennis for a semester two years ago." Ben shrugged, wishing he hadn't moved around worse than any army brat as he sat on the first bleacher.
"Well, sounds like a fair amount of basics." The mountie ran his gloved hand over the lower half of his face.
"Who's playing what, Benton?" Bob Sr asked, appearing from out of left field. Benton hung his head.
"Why don't you play spectator, Dad." Benton tried hard to keep the growl out of his voice.
"He's already playing specter." Ben chuckled, making a pun. Maggie popped in her mouth guard to stop the laughter welling up into her throat. She pushed off, remembering her own basic set of skills. It had been too long since she'd strapped on a set of skates.
Teaching Ben how to skate took the first hour and ended up with his end down, rather harshly most of the time. Maggie watched as the two truly began to bond. There was a zeal about Fraser that she hadn't seen in a few years and it reflected in Ben. The boy's stormy attitude disappeared as he listened to every word Fraser said as the off-duty mountie coaxed him around the rink. By eleven o'clock everyone was cold and hungry. Maggie sat down on the bleachers to unlace her skates as Fraser helped Ben take off his gear. Mr. Crook waded out through the bleachers toward them.
"Fraser, I have some hamburgers and fries ready for you if you'd like to eat before the crowd arrives." The rink manager's voice carried as he spoke in an accented voice. His short, stout arms were pushed deep into his khaki pants beneath a dark blue, Chicago Ice polo shirt.
"Thank you, Mr. Crook, what do I owe you for this morning?" Fraser picked up his uniform hat and began to pull US currency from the inside band.
"After you caught that fake food vendor who'd stolen my cash box, I am the one who owes you, Constable Fraser." Mr. Crook waved his money away with one sausage fingered hand and a big smile.
"I insist, we've interrupted your business far too long." Fraser continued.
"Aunt Maggie, I have to hit the latrine, I'll be back in a few minutes, OK." Ben spoke quietly as he slipped his feet down into his street shoes without tying them. It was too urgent a trip to fool with.
"We'll have lunch as soon as you get back so make sure to wash your hands thoroughly." The lady mountie warned. Ben pretended to pick his nose and made a face at her before he walked toward the large, white and blue 'restroom' sign behind the bleachers. Maggie laughed at his teasing as she carried their gear to the rental counter. It was good to see Ben happy.
The rink men's room was like so many other nondescript restroom all over the world. Hand dryers hung on the wall beside a row of three sinks. Across from the sinks were two, white, porcelain urinals and two enclosed stalls. A high, narrow window allowed natural light access through frosted glass. Ben washed his hands, complete with soap when he heard someone walk out of the stall diagonal to him. Glancing up into the five foot long by three foot high mirror he saw someone in a ski mask pull a firearm from the leather coat they wore and point it at him.
"Don't try anything kid." Came a deep, unwavering, male voice. Ben let the warm water run over his hands, stunned at the sight of the small, black weapon in the gloved man's hand. Another man came out of the second stall, their face also covered with a dark colored ski mask. This one was shorter than the first and more fidgety.
"Open that window, kid, then climb out, there's someone waiting on the other side so don't get cute." The gunman ordered, his voice like dragging tin on a gravel road. Ben dried his hands on the tail of the button down he'd borrowed from Fraser and began rolling the frosted windowpane open. The short kidnapper helped him scrambled through the window then hustled through himself. Outside a black, Ford SUV waited with the back door open. A rough hand shoved Ben toward the running vehicle and a third, dark clad kidnapper holding the door.
"I'm going, don't get your tennis shoes in a knot, OK." The boy shrugged the rough hand off. He tried to look around for something he could use as a weapon. If he could only knock the smaller guy behind him down he knew he could outrun them through the streets and between the buildings. Before Ben could think of anything he was being shoved into the waiting 4X4.
In the rink...
"Fraser have you seen Ben, I thought he'd be out of the restroom by now." Maggie asked, seating herself in the booth across from Fraser, a burger on her plate with onion rings and a milkshake. Diefenbaker and Aurora sat on the floor at her feet, waiting expectantly for their dinners. Both pairs of amber yellow eyes were looking up at her so earnestly, so pleadingly it was pathetic.
"No, I thought he was with you." They exchanged loaded glances before Fraser stood up to investigate. Without a word he headed toward the men's restroom. He saw the water splashed on the counter and the open window and knew what had happened.
"Maggie, he 's not in here." Diefenbaker took off to join his master. Maggie gathered Ben's jacket and let Aurora sniff it deeply. With her order the lady dog took off behind Dief.
"I'll call Ray." Maggie pulled her cell and hit two on the speed dial.
"I'm going to follow Diefenbaker and Aurora." With easy athleticism, Fraser climbed out the high window and dropped onto the ground five feet below. It had been a lot easier landing before receiving a deep knife wound his first year in Chicago. Regardless of the pain, he dropped down to examine a set of tire treads beside the dogs. Maggie joined him, Ray still on the cell phone pressed against her ear.
"He's been taken, Benton, we have to find him." She pressed her hand over the speaker of the phone, worry evident in her pale blue eyes.
"The kidnappers have been in the ice rink all morning, they were waiting to catch Ben alone." Fraser studied the tufts of grass surrounding the tire treads before looking at Maggie again. It took him a moment to collect himself. He'd promised Victoria he'd take care of Ben. He felt he owed it to the boy for the years of absence, in spite of the reason why. A surge of fear and panic like Fraser had never encountered rose up inside him like bile. He took a deep breath and fought it back into it's proper place. Just then wasn't the time or place to lose focus.
"He says he'll be here in ten minutes or less with the forensics team." Maggie snapped the cell phone closed and pushed it back into her jeans pocket. She resisted the urge to take Fraser's hand as he stood rather lost beside the dogs.
Scene Break