Here's my first story, with the standard disclaimer and credits. One
kind word and I'll write another.
***************
OPTIONS
By Katrina Bowen
Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP, walked into the squad room. Nodding cordially
and occasionally tipping his Stetson to everyone who made eye contact,
he walked over to Ray Vecchio's desk. His wolf, Diefenbaker, followed
at a more leisurely pace, checking each desk he passed for edibles.
Ray had both feet on his desk and he was tilted far back in his chair,
tossing a small basketball repeatedly in the air. He looked up at the
Mountie and grinned without breaking his rhythm. "Hey, Benny. You're
early -- the poker game doesn't start until six."
Ben placed his hat precisely on the corner of Ray's desk, and gave Dief
a stern look. The wolf sighed and pulled his nose away from the pair
of doughnuts on Detective Huey's desk. "Seven, actually," he said. "Inspector
Thatcher will require my presence at the consulate until that time tonight."
"Really? Doing what, if it's safe to ask."
"It's purely routine, Ray. A trade delegation will be in Chicago next
week, and the Inspector and I are finalizing the security arrangements."
"I'm sure." Ray looked at Ben with a good-natured leer. He tossed the
ball into a toy hoop on a filing cabinet, but kept his feet on the desk.
"I'll just tell the guys that the game will start later. Assuming you'll
have the energy to play."
"Ray --" Ben broke off as Elaine came over to Ray's desk. "Good afternoon,
Elaine."
"Hello, Fraser," she said warmly. She stood smiling at Ben, watching
his blush slowly build, until Ray cleared his throat. She turned to
the detective. "Someone just dropped this off for you, Ray." She held
out an envelope. As Ray reached out for it, she held it back and raised
her eyebrows.
"Thank you, Elaine," he said dutifully. Elaine smiled at Ben again and
mercifully went back to her desk. Ben turned back to Ray as his friend
sat up quickly, thudding his feet to the floor. He moved behind the
detective to see what was in the note.
"Don't read over my shoulder, Fraser," Ray said absently. Ben moved
a precise four inches to the right, but kept on reading. There wasn't
much to read -- simply a few lines telling Ray that if he wanted to solve
the arson case he was working on, he should go to an alley in a particulary
seedy section of Chicago.
"Do you think this is genuine, Ray?" Ben asked in concern.
"Benny, I've been trying to find this guy for a month. I'm ready for
tea leaves and ouija boards." He looked up wryly. "Would you believe
I've even found myself sniffing things?"
"Has it really come to that?"
"Yep. Well, if I get lucky, it looks like the game might be off."
"Oh, dear. I'm sorry to hear that."
Ray snorted. "Why? You always give back everything you win, anyway.
It's more disgusting than the sniffing, if you ask me. It's unnatural."
"Well, Ray, poker is primarily a game of strategy and tactics. Any monetary
gain is of secondary importance. In fact, in a way it cheapens the entire
experience."
"So? You feel that way, here's another option. Just give me the money.
I don't mind feeling cheap."
"Now, Ray. That would hardly be honest, would it?"
"Since when do honest and poker belong in the same sentence?" He stood
up and shoved the note in his pocket as Elaine came back to his desk.
"I'll give you a call if the tip washes out. Can I help you?" he asked
pointedly.
"No, but he can." She was smiling at Ben again. "I need a box of computer
paper from the store room. Could you help me carry it?" Ray rolled
his eyes -- he knew Elaine could not only carry one of the boxes easily
herself, she had actually dropped on on him once when he made a particularly
bad joke. Judging by the quick glare she gave him, he didn't think it
wise to bring it up.
"Of course, Elaine." He looked down at Dief. "Watch your manners until
I get back, would you?" He turned to Ray and paused. "Are you going
to the alley alone?" Something was nagging at him.
"Yeah, this guy's not violent. Unless he has a flame thrower, I'll be
fine."
"All right, then. I'll see you later." Ben and Elaine walked off.
Ray waited until they were out of sight, then walked over to Huey's desk.
He held up the two doughnuts, and Dief quickly sat to attention.
"Chocolate or jelly?" Ray asked the wolf. Dief lowered his head and
growled. "Well, I'm sorry, but I'm hungry, too. You're not getting
both." Dief contemplated the matter, then indicated the doughnut in Ray's
left hand. "Good choice. Jelly always messes up your whiskers." Dief
whuffed in agreement and took the proferred treat. Ray quickly bent
to scratch his ears, and rose to leave. He sidestepped Jack Huey, returning
to his desk with an armful of files. "Later, Huey." He grabbed his
coat off the rack and hurridly left.
Huey looked down at his desk in dismay. He turned to go after Vecchio,
but stopped and slowly looked down. Seeing a pair of soulful eyes and
a crumb-dusted snout, he sighed and went to find a sandwich.
****************************************************************************
Ben walked home from the consulate through the deepening twilight, Dief
trotting happily at his side. It was a bit after eight, as the inspector
had come up with an extraordinary number of details which needed addressing.
There were no messages from Ray, so he regretfully assumed the game was
indeed cancelled. A pity, really -- he believed he had finally gotten
the hang of "bluffing."
He went briskly up the crumbling front stairs of his apartment building,
saying a quick hello to Mr. Mustafi. As a favor to Dief, he took the
elevator -- for some unfathomable reason, the wolf seemed to be becoming
truly fond of the contraption. "I hope you realize that you're getting
soft, Diefenbaker?" Dief looked away, his nose in the air. "It's irrelevent
whether you choose to ignore me. The fact remains, going up a few flights
of stairs is not going to kill you. In fact, it might burn off some
of the sweets I know Ray gives you." Dief gave Ben an innocent, offended
look. This time Ben looked away haughtily. They got off and walked
down the hall. As they got to his apartment, Ben frowned. There was
a plain white envelope taped to his door. Probably from one of the neighbors,
he concluded. He took it down, opened the unlocked door, and went inside.
Carefully hanging up his hat and overcoat and setting the envelope on
the table, he walked to the sink and put water in the kettle. Putting
it on the stove to boil, he sat down and picked up the envelope. In
the process of opening it, he froze. It was an exact match for the one
Ray had received at the precinct that afternoon. Granted, the paper
was cheap and common, but he was positive that it was more than a coincidence.
Ben took a breath to calm himself. Dief, picking up on his emotions,
whined and sat a little closer. Ben closed his eyes for a moment --
then, opening them, he resolutely tore it open. A piece of paper, also
matching the afternoon's note, slid out. It was folded into a small
package. He unfolded it, his hands starting to tremble in spite of himself.
A thin, golden snake slid out. Ben's heart lurched, and he forced it
to return to normal. The snake transformed itself into a broken chain
and cross -- the crucifix that Ray usually wore. Ben gently traced his
finger over the cross and held it to his eyes. There was blood on it,
not quite dry.
The message of the cross might have been ambiguous. The note was not.
It was simple and uncompromising. "Fraser: You have until sunrise to
find me, or the wop cop dies. Come alone." It only took him a moment
to place the name at the bottom. Dan Kopecky had been one of his last
arrests before leaving Canada. A hired thug with pretensions to greater
things in the underworld, his crimes had been carried out in a remarkably
brutal manner, and Fraser had felt considerable satisfaction in bringing
him in. His crimes called for a lengthy sentence, leaving no conclusion
but that he had escaped.
Ben stood and went to the window. It was dark now; he didn't even have
twelve hours to save his friend. He couldn't see anyone in the alley,
so if he was being watched, it was probably from the front. The only
way out was by the fire escape. He walked to his footlocker, knelt,
and took out his father's gun.
"Son, you know that you should call in the police. It'll be easier with
more officers searching."
Ben didn't look up from loading the gun. By now, he was used to his
father's ghost popping in and out. "I can't take the chance, Dad. I
don't know if Kopecky is working alone. If he's tipped off, Ray's dead
..." He swallowed, and added hesitantly, "Dad?" He finally looked up
at the solid- seeming figure sitting on the bed.
"No." Fraser Sr. shook his head. "He's not dead, Ben. But I don't
know much more than that." Ben nodded. It was enough hope for now.
He stood up, put on his coat and hat, and walked to the window, Dief
close behind. Suddenly, his father was in front of him.
"Before you go, son, I want you to know something." He paused, seeming
to choose his words with unusual care. "If the worst comes to pass --"
"It won't." Ben spoke both firmly and prayerfully.
"If it comes to pass," his father's voice went on, "I want you to know
that you won't have to worry about Ray. I'll look after him for you.
You won't have to worry."
Ben closed his eyes, both touched and terrified. "Dad, he's my friend.
He's my responsibility."
"And you are mine." When his eyes opened, he was alone except for Diefenbaker.
****************************************************************************
Kopecky paced back and forth, yelling into the cellular phone. "I'm
paying you good money to watch the damn building, and you'll stay there
until I tell you to leave!" He broke the connection angrily and looked
over in the corner of the abandoned warehouse he had claimed.
He walked through the dim light to a motionless figure hanging from an
exposed ceiling pipe. He stood there, waiting for his captive to say
something. He was disappointed. One greenish brown eye opened and looked
at him scornfully, but that was all.
Furiously, Kopecky grabbed Ray by the throat and forced his head back.
One of his eyes was swollen almost shut, and there was an ugly, bruised
gash on his forehead.
Ray was still mad at himself for walking into such a stupid trap. He'd
gone into the alley like a rookie, not checking behind some crates near
the entrance. Expecting to find at best an informant, and at worst rats,
he had been unprepared for the attack. Someone -- the man in front of
him now -- had grabbed him from behind and efficiently rammed his head
into a brick wall. He had come to about an hour ago with a hellacious
headache, blurry vision, and a stinging pain around his neck.
"Looks like the Mountie doesn't care if you live or die. How's that
make you feel, wop?" Kopecky snarled.
"Wop? Wop?!? No one says wop anymore, asshole. Where the hell have
you been?"
Kopecky stared, enraged and speechless. He abruptly let go of Ray, drew
back his fist, and punched him in the stomach. As Ray gasped for breath,
vaguely glad that he could keep from retching, Kopecky forced his head
back again. "I've been in jail, thanks to your buddy. I was going places,
and he ended it. He's going to die for that." He released Ray and stood
back, waiting to see what reaction he would get.
Ray closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and looked levelly at Kopecky.
"Fraser's naive, but he's not stupid. He's not about to walk into a
situation where he knows someone wants to kill him. Soon as he gets
that note you left him, he'll call Lieutenant Welsh. There's probably
a hundred cops on their way here. Getting you means more to him than
saving me."
"You better hope you're wrong, because he's your only chance to get out
of this alive." Kopecky walked back across the room and picked up the
phone again. As he punched in a number and started talking, Ray closed
his eyes and pressed his face into one of his suspended arms. He knew
damn well that Benny would try -- no, that Benny would find him. All
he could do was try to bluff Kopecky into thinking he wouldn't.
****************************************************************************
Ben knelt in the alley, shining his flashlight across the garbege-strewn
cement. Diefenbaker stood next to him, quivering and anxious. "I know
we have to hurry," Ben murmurered to the wolf. "We just have to make
sure --" he fell silent as he saw something glitter in the light's beam.
He reached over and delicately picked up a few twisted links of fine
gold wire. At least now he knew he was on the right trail. He had suspected
it when he saw the Riv parked on the street nearby, and had felt an almost
physical pain when he saw the hubcaps were missing and the front driver's
side window had been broken. "This is going to kill Ray," he had thought
before he could stop himself.
Shining his light on the crumbling brick wall a few feet away, he saw
scattered drops of blood. He froze for a few seconds, then forced himself
to go over and examine them more carefully. The blood was dry, but obviously
recent. Ben reassured himself with the thought that Ray had apparently
suffered no great injury; if he had, there would have been much more
than a few drops. From the height of the bloodstains and the absence
of any disturbed fragments, Ben judged that Ray's head had been slammed
into the wall with considerable force, but not with enough to cause a
fatal wound. A concussion, but if he was fortunate that would be all.
He turned away from the wall. "All right, Diefenbaker. Let's find him."
The wolf, already having the scent, turned and ran. They ran for only
about five minutes before Dief stopped in front of an abandoned warehouse.
It was closer than Ben expected; but on reflection he decided that Kopecky
wouldn't risk carrying an unconscious police officer any further than
he had to. Ben turned to Dief. "Is there anyone besides Kopecky and
Ray inside?" The wolf didn't seem worried, which also made sense -- Kopecky
wouldn't know enough people in Chicago to have many accomplices. Anyone
who was working with him would probably still be watching the apartment.
Ben crouched and looked Dief in the eye. "When we go in there, your
first responsibility is to find Ray. If anything happens that I can't
handle, go back to the precinct and make sure they follow you back."
He stood and squared his shoulders. "Let's go."
They entered the warehouse together. They stayed together for a few
minutes, searching. Then Dief stopped, testing the air. The wolf disappeared
in a pale blur. Ben didn't notice Dief's absence until he heard a familiar,
distant bark. He started to follow the sound, but his desparation to
find his friend made him careless. He was stopped in his tracks by the
quiet, unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked. He turned slowly, and
looked into a long unseen face. "I see you brought your gun, Mountie.
I think you'd better get rid of it."
****************************************************************************
Ray came to with a jerk. "How could I have fallen asleep?" he muttered
to himself a little crazily. There was something bumping into his legs.
Confused, he looked down and caught his breath. "Dief?" he whispered.
He looked around in a panic. If the wolf was here and Kopecky hadn't
shot him ...
"Oh, damn," he breathed. Kopecky was gone. Dief jumped up on him, making
urgent whining sounds. Ray knew it wasn't intentional, but the impact
of a substantial wolf against his sore body made his head swim. As if
sensing his pain, Dief backed up and whimpered.
Ray opened his eyes again. "He's here, isn't he, Dief?" The wolf ran
across the room and stood there, staring at him. He barked once. Ray
took a deep breath and looked up at his bound hands. "Oh, hell. This
is going to hurt." At least Kopecky hadn't used his handcuffs; that
would have made it impossible.
It took a few minutes and his hands were running with blood when he finished,
but he finally freed first one hand and then the other. He thought he'd
be able to stand, but his legs buckled under him. Dief came back to
him and nudged him gently. "Yeah, yeah. I'm coming, boy. But what
use I'm going to be to him, I don't know." He painfully got to his feet,
hanging onto the wall.
"You always were an idiot, Raymondo." Ray couldn't have whirled around
if he had wanted to. He didn't want to -- he didn't even acknowledge
the presence of his father's spirit, leaning against a post. "You had
any sense, you'd get the hell out of here. Let the looney take care
of himself."
"Knock it off, Pop," Ray said wearily. "He's my friend, he came here
to help me, I'm going to try to help him." He started making his way
to the door.
"Why doesn't this surprise me?" His father followed him. "First you're
dumb enough to become a cop. Then you make friends with this Canuck
who's almost gotten you killed I don't know how many times. Now you're
going cheerfully to your death, and they're making me watch the whole
thing. I don't know why I ever bothered with you."
"If you're not going to help him, leave him alone!" This time Ray did
whirl around, almost overbalancing himself. That had been an unfamiliar
voice. He saw his father, still in that dark red leather jacket Ray had
always hated. With him, standing almost toe to toe, was a man in a Mountie
uniform. A second later, both figures vanished.
Ray gulped and leaned against the wall. "Great. This is great. Now
I'm having other people's hallucinations." It had only been a moment,
but he recognized Ben's father from the photographs in the other's apartment.
He started to shake -- "Stop it!" he told himself. He had something
to take care of. He forced himself to start moving again.
Dief stayed close to him as he made his way down the shadowy hallway.
It opened into a large, dark room, with faint voices somewhere inside
it. Ray kept near the wall, trying to get closer without being heard
himself. Several times he stopped, almost overcome with dizziness and
sheer exhaustion. Each time he made himself keep going, reminding himself
that Benny needed him. Finally, he was able to make out two men silhouetted
against a window.
"Where's Ray?" That was Benny. He sounded okay, but angry. Benny hardly
ever got angry ... Ray shook his head sharply as his mind started to
wander. Dief tensed beside him, ready to pounce at any signal.
"Oh, hanging around. I was going to kill him right away, you know.
Then I got to thinking. It'd be a lot more fun to kill him in front
of you, maybe slit his throat. Or maybe I should kill you first, and
have you die wondering just what I was going to do to him." Kopecky
took a step forward. "Your choice."
"There is, of course, a third option. You could kill me and let him
go."
"Now what fun would that be? Tell you what. I think it'd hurt you more
to die first." Ray looked around wildly for something -- anything --
to give Benny a distraction. His foot bumped against something, and
he looked down. A gun? Benny's gun. How the hell had he missed that?
"Never look a gift gun in the mouth," he muttered under his breath.
Ray leaned down carefully and picked it up. Bracing himself against
the wall to steady his aim, he raised the gun in both hands. Thank God
Fraser was still wearing his hat -- it made it easier to tell who to
shoot. If he kept on shooting him, Ray thought, even Benny would eventually
start to hold a grudge. He blinked to clear his wavering vision, held
his breath, and fired.
Kopecky's body jerked around and collapsed -- convulsed
once -- and was still. Ben jumped. He looked around wildly and saw Ray
leaning against the wall. "Hey, Benny. Bet he wasn't expecting that
fourth option, huh?" He slowly slid into a sitting position.
Glancing over at Kopecky, Ben saw Dief sniff at the body and disdainfully
walk away. Judging there to be no more danger, he finally ran over to
his friend. Crouching beside him, Ben tentatively ran his hand over
the awful looking wound on Ray's icy forehead. "Ray? Can you hear me?"
Ray's eyes fluttered open and he looked up. He grinned. "Half blind
and still a crack shot. Here, this is yours." He handed the gun carelessly
to Ben.
"Yes, you are. Thank you kindly, Ray." He set the gun aside. He removed
his coat and gently wrapped it around Ray's shivering body. Definitely
a concussion, and probably in shock as well. "Ray, I'm going to find
a pay phone and call an ambulance."
"Why?" Ray indicated Kopecky's body with a jerk of his chin. "He's
not going anywhere anytime soon."
Ben smiled. "Actually, the ambulance is for you. I don't want to worry
you, but I think you have a mild concussion."
"A concussion, huh?" Ray stared into space, considering. "Yeah, that
might explain it."
"Explain what, Ray?"
"Never mind, Benny. It doesn't matter."
"I see." Ben decided not to press his friend -- it probably wasn't of
immediate importance, anyway. He stood. "I'll be back as soon as possible,
so don't go anywhere."
"Oh, there's a cellular phone back where I was. Over that direction."
Ray waved a hand vaguely. Ben went cold as he saw the amount of blood
on his friend's hands and wrists, but he only nodded and said, "It'll
only be a minute, then. Stay with him, Dief," he said to the wolf, who
had finished checking out the building.
When he got back, Dief was sitting close to Ray, whining softly, his
head on Ray's chest. Ray had an arm around him and had buried one hand
in the wolf's fur -- he probably didn't even realize it, Ben decided.
He thought Ray had passed out, but as he sat down on the other side he
heard him say, "Fraser, tell your damn wolf to shut up so I can get some
sleep." Dief immediately quieted.
Ben took out his handkerchief and took Ray's free hand in his. He tried
to wipe the worst of the blood away, and saw that while the wrist was
badly abraded, it looked worse than it was. When he judged the hand
was clean enough, he took the cross out of his pocket and pressed it
into Ray's palm, curled his fingers around it. "This is yours, I believe."
"I was wondering where that was," Ray said sleepily. When Ben started
to pull his hand away, he shook his head. "No. Keep it for me until
I can get it fixed."
"Are you sure, Ray?"
"Sure, I'm sure." He looked up at Ben with a tired, achingly sweet smile
that would never have been revealed in ordinary circumstances. "I know
you'll take care of it for me, Benny."
Ben didn't trust himself to speak; he simply nodded and kept hold of
Ray's hand. He heard the distant sirens that Ray didn't. As they neared,
he was glad his friend wouldn't be awake to see what had become of his
Riv. Ray's cousin was a mechanic; Ben would take the car in himself
and see that it was repaired. It was the least he could do.
April 29, 1996