real CADS readout. Now, I know you’re wondering why I’m here, so I’ll get right to it. Friday morning CSIS got a call from the CADS base. Their security unit caught a man with a pair of binoculars up on the hill. Apparently, he didn’t seem to be doing anything much. They questioned him, and he said he was a tourist, a birdwatcher. It’s not like he’s wearing a turban. They didn’t have enough to hold him or even to call in you guys.” He nodded at Cardinal. “So they checked his ID and told him to vamoose, basically.
“They phoned the info down to us. Completely routine procedure. We run a check on Howard Matlock. Nothing against. Then—and this is the same day I’m talking about—the guy turns up again in the middle of the night. Night-shift security catches him on the perimeter, with those binoculars practically glued to his face.”
“On the perimeter,” Cardinal said. “If he was a spy, he must be the most inept spy the world has ever seen. I’ve been up to that base, and there’s absolutely nothing to see until you get two miles inside the mountain. It’s trees and rock. Period.”
“True enough. But his objective may not have been the installation hardware—it may have been the security itself. The whole point may have been to check out their strength by getting himself caught. We just don’t know. The worst thing is, security screwed up. Screwed up big time. They neglected to check the day ledger when they caught the guy, so they didn’t know he’d already been nicked earlier. Unbelievable as it seems, they let him go. By the time security realized their mistake, it was too late. That’s when they called us for the second time. There were some red faces up there.”
Squier clicked his remote and the laptop went dark. He folded it up with a snap. “My superior called me at six in the morning. Told me to be on the seven o’clock flight to Algonquin Bay. Security had taken down Matlock’s licence plate number—a rental car from Toronto air-port—and the Loon Lodge address. But I got here too late. I never even caught sight of him, and then suddenly you guys were all over his cabin.”
“What would you have done if you had found him?”
“Followed him, of course. Not me personally—we use surveillants for that sort of thing.”
“Really,” Musgrave said. “We use cops.”
“It’s unfortunate I didn’t catch up with this individual before he got killed. Personally, I suspect he isn’t anything to worry about. No links to al-Qaeda or anyone like that. But not having cleared him, and him being dead after two hits on CADS security—well, let’s just say it raises red flags. And that’s what puts us in the ball game.”
“Well, maybe we could get the OPP in on this too,” Cardinal said.
“Oh, I don’t think the provincial police have any jurisdiction here.”
“He was joking,” Musgrave said.
“We could get the Knights of Columbus and the Ladies’ Auxiliary,” Cardinal went on. “And the Elks might be interested too. I mean, we’ve practically got enough for a curling team already.”
“Yes, I thought you might not be pleased,” Squier said.
“Home turf and all that. I just want you to know that I’m here—and CSIS is here—to give you every possible assistance. You’ll probably want to see my ID.” He pulled out an embossed employment card with his picture on it. “You can call that number for confirmation of everything I’ve said.”
“Believe me,” Musgrave said to Cardinal, “I’ve done that. He’s for real, and so is CSIS , and that’s just the way things are. Make whatever calls you have to make, and then why don’t you bring us up to date on where you’re at with the investigation?”
Cardinal considered calling Chouinard and raising bloody hell, but he had a strong sense that it would get him nowhere. He was also grateful that Squier was pretending they’d never met.
“Basically, there’s nothing to tell,” he began.
“They phoned the info down to us. Completely routine procedure. We run a check on Howard Matlock. Nothing against. Then—and this is the same day I’m talking about—the guy turns up again in the middle of the night. Night-shift security catches him on the perimeter, with those binoculars practically glued to his face.”
“On the perimeter,” Cardinal said. “If he was a spy, he must be the most inept spy the world has ever seen. I’ve been up to that base, and there’s absolutely nothing to see until you get two miles inside the mountain. It’s trees and rock. Period.”
“True enough. But his objective may not have been the installation hardware—it may have been the security itself. The whole point may have been to check out their strength by getting himself caught. We just don’t know. The worst thing is, security screwed up. Screwed up big time. They neglected to check the day ledger when they caught the guy, so they didn’t know he’d already been nicked earlier. Unbelievable as it seems, they let him go. By the time security realized their mistake, it was too late. That’s when they called us for the second time. There were some red faces up there.”
Squier clicked his remote and the laptop went dark. He folded it up with a snap. “My superior called me at six in the morning. Told me to be on the seven o’clock flight to Algonquin Bay. Security had taken down Matlock’s licence plate number—a rental car from Toronto air-port—and the Loon Lodge address. But I got here too late. I never even caught sight of him, and then suddenly you guys were all over his cabin.”
“What would you have done if you had found him?”
“Followed him, of course. Not me personally—we use surveillants for that sort of thing.”
“Really,” Musgrave said. “We use cops.”
“It’s unfortunate I didn’t catch up with this individual before he got killed. Personally, I suspect he isn’t anything to worry about. No links to al-Qaeda or anyone like that. But not having cleared him, and him being dead after two hits on CADS security—well, let’s just say it raises red flags. And that’s what puts us in the ball game.”
“Well, maybe we could get the OPP in on this too,” Cardinal said.
“Oh, I don’t think the provincial police have any jurisdiction here.”
“He was joking,” Musgrave said.
“We could get the Knights of Columbus and the Ladies’ Auxiliary,” Cardinal went on. “And the Elks might be interested too. I mean, we’ve practically got enough for a curling team already.”
“Yes, I thought you might not be pleased,” Squier said.
“Home turf and all that. I just want you to know that I’m here—and CSIS is here—to give you every possible assistance. You’ll probably want to see my ID.” He pulled out an embossed employment card with his picture on it. “You can call that number for confirmation of everything I’ve said.”
“Believe me,” Musgrave said to Cardinal, “I’ve done that. He’s for real, and so is CSIS , and that’s just the way things are. Make whatever calls you have to make, and then why don’t you bring us up to date on where you’re at with the investigation?”
Cardinal considered calling Chouinard and raising bloody hell, but he had a strong sense that it would get him nowhere. He was also grateful that Squier was pretending they’d never met.
“Basically, there’s nothing to tell,” he began.
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