Retired Detective Kevin Beldon has left Ottawa and gone into retreat at a Buddhist monastery in California following his successful treatment for lung cancer. He’s trying to make sense of his life, but death is very much on his mind. And not just his own; he’s still trying to come to terms with the loss ten years earlier of his wife and son, victims of Dr. Ewan Randome, an evil mastermind whom Beldon had been forced to let escape. Aside from providing the occasional consultation for the California police, Beldon has happily gone into retirement, but when Global Patrol, the international police force, comes looking for his help on the Malachai case, a serial killer investigation that has them stymied, his interest is piqued. Beldon quickly deduces that the killings are related to his last unsolved case before his retirement two years earlier, a triple murder in his nation’s capital, and he suspects the involvement of his old nemesis Dr. Randome in this new round of assassinations. As events unfold, Beldon comes to realize how inevitable it was that Malachai’s killing spree would end in New York, and how inevitable his own final showdown with Randome has always been.

Brigid continued. “But if there was someone behind the Parliament Hill murders, he, or she, left no trace behind. Even MYCROFT expressed admiration of their thoroughness.”

“Haiti?” Kevin suggested.

“Of course people said it was the Haitians on Parliament Hill that day, but people say that about every major unsolved crime … uh, as you know.”

“I’m pleased to learn I’m now just like everyone else. But of course: why would Haiti be in on it?”

“Kevin, let’s cut to the chase: if Haiti was behind Parliament Hill, then Dr. Ewan Randome was in on it too. There are connections, and I am here talking with you.”

“Randome? Randome’s not been sighted in years. He’s most likely dead!”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

Kevin tipped back his head, stared into the vault of the conical ceiling, breathed deeply for a spell. When he spoke again, it was as if he were throwing his voice from up there, speaking down to the two of them:

“Haiti was extorting funds from the Optimum Population operation?”

She’s hardly surprised. “I’m afraid MYCROFT confirms, with eighty-percent accuracy. Haiti was extorting Lieutenant-Colonel Mandrake Bledsoe’s business, with some expensive help from Moscow on the laundering. Are you sure you’re through with factioning, Kevin?”

It was Kevin’s turn to smirk. “But what was Haiti’s leverage with the inestimable Dr. Lieutenant-Colonel Mandrake Bledsoe?”

“That we, including MYCROFT, do not know. The only connection is a money trail, and it a most tenuous line of cyber-laundering.”

Kevin continued with his head cocked back: “And then?”

“Then?”

“On Parliament Hill that day?”

“Then you know as well as I do. Out of nowhere, as Mandrake Bledsoe was exiting the rally, Judge Johnson Mender stepped from his front-row seating and shot him. Then all hell broke loose, first at the front, then all over Parliament Hill. One of Bledsoe’s security stupidly took out Judge Mender before Michael could get to his father. When the crowd was finally cleared, Lucy Mender was found dead beneath some folding chairs. A pin bullet from a Primoguard sidearm, Sergeant Monty Parizeau’s, which was found in the Canal, wiped clean of course. Parizeau was busted back to Constable One for losing his sidearm. And Michael Mender disappeared, as you know.”

“Okay. Add this to MYCROFT’s reconstruction of events: Michael Mender was abducted by Haiti operatives and is either alive or dead down there.”

“What?”

He waited. “Why is there no video evidence?”

“Bledsoe’s security were all wearing Chemoflage, which in quantity, as we now know, fucks royally with digital surveillance. We saw nothing to substantiate your abduction theory, and the riot made it impossible for MYCROFT’s REIMAGINE program to reconstruct the scene with any reliability. But why, why would Haiti kidnap Michael Mender? Is this factioning, Kevin?”

“Maybe. But let’s stick to the facts. Haiti lost its golden goose with the murder of Lieutenant-Colonel Mandrake Bledsoe by Johnson Mender, and Michael Mender’s disappearance is connected to that event, obviously. Don’t wait for further MYCROFT confirmation. Get someone into Haiti, like, yesterday, the very best unaffiliated mercenary you can find. It may not be too late to get Michael out intact, but it may be too.”

“Kevin, I need—”

“Tell your secret agent to tell Michael Mender that he’s got new information about Lucy Mender’s murder; Michael loved his mother dearly. Your agent will need the lie to get through to Michael, if what I suspect proves true. And tell no one what you’re doing, not even me.”

“But Kevin, this just proves why I really do need your help more than I thought. I need you with me on the case.”

Kevin shook himself out, brushed nothing from his lap and stood. “I’m pleased that your visit with me has been productive, Chief Ertelle. But I have poems to write before I sleep. Will you and Lester come by for breakfast tomorrow before you head back?”

“Kevin.”

“I’m sorry, Brigid, but there is no way I’m coming on any case. This is my third retirement. Even I find that hilarious!”

“It’s Dr. Randome who’s controlling this Malachai to get further revenge on Mandrake Bledsoe. But why would Randome take Michael Mender? Yet more revenge? Randome would have had Lucy Mender killed too, so who was left to witness his revenge? Me? You? Randome may be psychotic, but he’s not crazy. I fear there’s still more shit to hit the fan, and it’s—he’s already splattering us with this Malachai rampage.”

“This doesn’t have to be your case either, Brigid. It shouldn’t be. Go home. I strongly suspect that Michael Mender is a lost cause.”