The Unforgiving Minute
A gift for Commander_Eagle, for trying so hard to solve the riddle in the story contest.
The Unforgiving Minute
Today was the day. The President of the United States of America was in Ottawa for state visit, staying at the Mackenzie King Estate in the heart of Gatineau Park, and Jacob planned to drop in him and give him a little surprise. Jacob Summerton smiled as he pulled on his gloves and checked to make sure that everything he needed was tied down securely. His final act before setting out was to turn on his IPod and start a pre-arranged selection of tunes from the Australian progressive rock band, Cog. Jacob always worked to Cog.
The old estate, known as Kingsmere, had been the home of Canada's tenth Prime Minister and self-proclaimed spiritualist, William Lyon Mackenzie King. He had purchased the land that he would later donate to one of Canada's first National Parks and decorated it with statuary and ruins from ancient Greece, imperial Rome and medieval Europe. He had gardens planted that were still maintained as part of the park, and the farmhouse in the centre of it all was now used as an inn and tea house.
The president, a history buff and a bit of a spiritualist himself, had specifically requested the use of the estate during his visit, rather than stay at the Prime Minister's official summer residence at nearby Meech Lake. The Security details on both sides of the border had conniptions, but since it was for only one night and there was only one road leading to the estate they acquiesced. They felt that they could secure the trails around it and the gardens easily enough. And perhaps they could, from anyone who wished to drive, hike, fly or crawl into the area. But Jacob doubted that they had taken his unique form of infiltration into account.
Jacob was a Traceur, a practitioner of Parkour, the art of movement.
Parkour followers use physical disciple and training to overcome any obstacle by adapting their movements to the environment. They typically ran along a route and negotiated obstacles in the most efficient way possible. Using climbing techniques, jumping skills, and a few moves developed specifically for Parkour, a Traceur could leap fences, scale walls, take incredible drops, squeeze through tiny openings, and all of it while running full speed and non-stop.
Jacob, a lean, muscular, twenty three year old pine marten from a small town outside Saint John's Newfoundland, had taken it to another level. Instead of just following a set route for fun of running it, he had started using Parkour to get into places where he should not be. Once he discovered that he could overcome security barriers and fencing as easily as he did ordinary walls and enclosures he started looking for interesting places to infiltrate. Of course, it was no fun if you did not bring out a trophy, and leave a little something behind to let the big dogs know that you were there was even more fun.
Jacob's marker of choice was a happy face sticker. They were easier to carry and quicker to apply than the spray paint bombs he used to steal for tagging his targets. Like the time he helped himself to a few cans from the Canadian Tire store and did a run up the back of Parliament Hill and scaled the outside of the Parliamentary Library. He had raced along a flying buttress, tagged the Parliament building, and gotten back down and away before the next RCMP patrol came by.
Unfortunately the cops had connected the theft with the tagging and were on the lookout for a mustelid of his description. The stickers, which he had bought in bulk in another town, were harder to trace. For security, he kept them in a safe place away from his apartment and only took one at a time on his runs. He did however stop to take pictures of the scenes once he had added his signature sticker and post them on a web site dedicated to radical Parkour. He also posted photos of his trophies before he disposed of them.
Simple theft and vandalism were not Jacob's intent in any event, although he did his fair share of both while developing his skills. No, he had greater ambitions, and the means to achieve a switch that would make him world famous, in an anonymous sort of way.
Jacob's dad was a software developer. Specifically, he developed software for creating 3-D renderings for on-line games, simulators, and engineering applications. It was the royalties from the incredibly realistic renderings he had done for the game "Universe of Warfare" that was paying for Jacob's tuition and the apartment he was living in. It was also paying for some kick-ass computer technology that was supposed to aid him in his studies, but that Jacob had adapted for his grab and go schemes.
He left nothing to chance. The ultimate embarrassment would be trying to slide a fifty centimetre-wide pine marten through a forty centimetre hole. So using images from Google Earth, web cameras, and his own high-density digital SLR, he built models of the area he would run. He built interiors from file photos, plans found on the Internet, and measurements taken with laser range finders disguised as oversized glasses while on guided tours. Once his model was built he could analyze the terrain and decide which route and moves would him to his target. Was there an open transom over that antique door? A dive and roll would carry him through that. Did the floor have pressure sensors? No problem, he could run along the walls and swing from the fire suppression system. A four-metre electrified barb-wire fence? Please, give the boy a challenge.
Not only did Jacob plan his runs in the simulator, he rehearsed them there too. The engineering module in the software made everything behave as it did in real life. Hitting a wooden pole with too much force would snap it, and an iron pipe would droop and ruin his swing if the supports were too far apart. So Jacob donned a body suit covered with sensors and practised each run before trying it in the real world. Not only did that confirm his moves, it gave him muscle memory that made the actual run almost automatic.
Of course there was the time that some idiot decided to repaint a flagpole that Jacob was supposed to swing off of after leaping from the roof of the Ottawa City hall with the mayor's gavel stuck down his pants. Having become intimate with the heavy wooden hammer when he landed on it taught him the value of a final reconnaissance before each run.
Jacob's runs and the objects he took on them were becoming more and more exotic. He had almost achieved the notoriety he sought on the last one. Jogging innocently along Sussex Drive at dawn one day, he had cut into the property next door to the Prime Minister of Canada's official residence. Then he had swung up on top of a stone wall, run along it to the cast iron fence surrounding 24 Sussex, bounced back and forth between the fence and the maple trees that overshadowed it, and went over. Then it was roll down the hill, a dive over the well, a slide under the picnic table and a scramble up the drainpipe. A loping stride carried him along the steeply sloped tiles until he came to the gabled window of the Prime Minister's private bathroom. He dove in the widow that his telephoto lens had confirmed was never closed in the summer, and did a paw-spring off the antique claw-foot tub to land silently by the door to the bedroom.
Knowing from interviews that both the PM and his mate were heavy sleepers, he took the time to unwrap his special gift before entering. Then he entered the bedroom. The antique mechanical alarm clock was right where they said it was in the interview, on the night table beside the bed. The PM had told the interviewer that he always hit the chrome snooze button at least once every morning before getting up to face the nation's problems. Jacob took the leader of the nation's alarm clock from the night table as a souvenir, and placed a sheet of sticky fly paper in its place. One of his Happy Face stickers was stuck in the middle of it, and a wafer-thin electronic timer taped to it was counting down the minutes until the PM's regular wakeup time. Jacob snapped a quick shot in the dim room with a pocket camera and exited the same way he came in.
That should have done the trick, except for a few miscalculations. He should have bought a camera with low light capabilities, because his photo did not come out too well. He should have realized that the Prime Minister would simply remove the embarrassing fly paper and tell no one, at least not the press. He should also have realized that punking the Prime Minister of Canada did not exactly count as 'hitting the big time'.
But today he was going to make up for all that.
All of the trails around Kingsmere had been closed for the duration of the President's stay, so Jacob started his run at exactly five forty in the morning on a bicycle at the top of the long parkway that ran past the estate. Hundreds of cyclists trained on that road every day, so another fit individual in colourful spandex would not be noticed. The green and black pattern he had chosen would blend in well for the next phase.
The Gatineau Parkway sloped steeply down for five kilometres between the Champlain Lookout and the parking lot closest to Kingsmere, but Jacob had no intention of pulling into the lot. It was sealed off in any event. Instead, he used the speed he had built up on the downhill run to propel him up over the embankment and into a gap in a thick stand of pine trees. The trees were old, and had thick branches that started about three metres off the ground. Jacob sailed through the air on the far side of the embankment and released the bike just below the first branch he encountered, exactly as planned.
From there his route was a combination of Tarzan-like swings through the trees combined with vaults, drops, rolls and balance walking along the tops of the ruins and statuary that dotted the landscape. Down below, he could see the RCMP and Secret Service details crouching behind the stone walls, diligently watching the open areas and the trails, but never looking up. Elsewhere, Griffon helicopters watched the skies for airborne threats, but they never looked down. Jacob was alone in a zone between the two surveillance layers.
His most daring leap came when he was only a hundred metres away from the Inn. There was a road cutting through the forest and the gap was three times wider than the two and a half metres he could manage. But there was a lofty poplar tree growing beside the road. According to Jacob's software a poplar that tall and thin would be very flexible, but he had never had the opportunity to test that particular module against the real thing.
Jacob swung, leapt and climbed up the pines to gain altitude; he had to hit the poplar at a minimum height of ten metres in order to reach the other side. The final approach was a run along a straight branch barely big enough to hold his weight and a spring from the end that would propel him into the poplar. If he hit it too fast there was a chance that the thin tree would break. However, if he hit it too slow it would not bend far enough and he would be stuck swaying at the top until the President left later in the day. Jacob had limited his liquid intake that morning just in case.
He found the take-off branch, brushed an unexpected bough out of the way and ran on his toes to the end, bending his legs to push off. He caught the slender poplar with both paws and feet simultaneously, and held on to his breakfast as the tree heeled over sickeningly. The tree bent, creaked, but held as he approached the stand of tall maples on the other side of the road. Jacob swung around to give it even more momentum, and released when it reached the end of its arc. Flying blindly backwards was not a safe means of travel, so he twisted in mid-air, just in time to grab the branch he was aiming for.
He had come in a little higher than planned, and he caught the branch in his midriff, but it only slowed him down for an instant as he rotated around it to land lightly on the next branch down. He was inside the inner perimeter. Now it was just a matter of racing through the canopy until he reached the gabled roofs of the King house.
There would be more security inside, of course, but they would be focused on the President, and Jacob had no intention of getting anywhere near him. No, he had another objective in mind, and that was why the timing of his run had been so important.
It was well known that the President was a creature of habit, and he had a routine that he had followed since his early days as a State official and later as a Congressman. He rose at five thirty every morning and did yoga for twenty minutes in his pyjamas to loosen up before his morning shower. Meanwhile, his mate, known for her fashion sense, would lay out his clothes for the day. She picked out the suit, the shirt, and the shoes, but always hung three or four neckties over the back of his chair for him to choose from. In his robe, at exactly six ten, he would sit down to breakfast with his mate and closest advisors, after which he would return to his room to dress.
In a pouch strapped to his hip, Jacob had four extremely colourful novelty bow ties, each featuring a pattern of Happy Faces. He also had the latest in compact, high-density, low-light digital cameras. He would shoot the President's clothes as they were laid out, add the bow ties beside the real ones for the next shot, and finish with the suit and his ties alone. When he put it up on the Internet he would include a video of the President's ties being fed into a shredder at the university's business centre.
The press was waiting in the main room for a seven o'clock question and answer session, and Jacob figured that they would pick up that something was going on to corroborate his posting. The fashion analysts had made a habit of highlighting the President's ensemble at every public appearance, so if the he showed up tie-less, or in a mismatching one borrowed from an aide, they would spend the rest of the day commenting on it.
Jacob made his way to old farmhouse easily, and checked the area for surveillance before putting a foot on the roof. The window to the President's bedroom would probably be locked, but there was an air vent he could swing feet-first through below the peak of the roof. A hop, skip and a jump across the attic brought him to the evacuation fan mounted in the ceiling of the bathroom. He lifted it to one side and dove through the hole. A minute later, with three stylish ties tucked into his pouch and a number of new images on the camera's memory card, he muscled up through it just as easily.
Retracing his route was easier than coming in had been, because he knew the footing and the distances involved. But he did not have a conveniently placed poplar tree for the return swing over the road. Jacob would have to climb the tallest tree on this side and make the leap of his life, dropping five metres while hopefully travelling at least that far horizontally. The 'leap of faith', as he thought of it, should carry him through a gap in the foliage and on to a thick lower branch, from which he could continue his run due south until he returned to where he had abandoned his bike.
Jacob found the tree he wanted and bounced from branch to branch until he was as high as he dared go. He ran along the last large limb and launched himself into space with no misgivings; "jump now, worry later" was his motto. He flailed his arms and legs to stay upright for the landing, and smiled as he arched gracefully across the gap, headed straight for the opening with the big branch inside.
The smile disappeared when he entered the shadowed recess and his eyes adjusted. In the instant that it took to traverse the last two metres, he took in the fact that the branch he was aiming for was gone. There was a clean white stump where it should have been. In its pace there was a loose net, and below the net, a large silver fox with a grin on his face and a bush saw in his paw.
The net helped to slow him down, but the impact shattered his IPod and rendered Jacob unconscious none the less.
* * * * * * * *
When Jacob came to the first thing he saw was the face of the silver fox, but much closer than before. Everything else seemed to be white. He closed his eyes and shook his head to clear it. When he tried again he could make out more detail. He was on a stretcher inside a van of some sort, an ambulance perhaps. His arms were free but his chest and legs were strapped down. All of his gear was on a shelf beside the silver fox; the incriminating bow ties included. He must have switched them back.
"You can call me Silver." The fox introduced himself, placing a paw on his chest. Jacob saw that the back of the paw was almost bare of fur and disfigured. His eyes were a cold blue-grey, and he had a vertical scar cutting through the brow above the left one. "We've been watching you kid."
"For how long?" It was all that Jacob could think to say.
"Ever since the caper with the Prime Minister's alarm clock. You didn't really think that he would let that one slide, did you?"
Jacob reflected on the less than warm and fuzzy nature of the current PM for a moment. "No, I guess not."
"The RCMP security detail was some pissed." The fox continued. "And when they found out that you were the same guy that tagged the Parliament ... let's just say that you're lucky that I'm not with them."
"You're not?"
"My card." The fox called Silver pulled a rectangle of stiff paper out of an inner pocket of his blue blazer and held it out between two digits. Jacob took it and looked at it. He flipped it over in confusion; it was blank on both sides. He gave the fox a puzzled look.
"Look again." Silver advised. Jacob did. This time there was a red and black logo shaped like a fox head on one side. The head was formed from the letters of the word 'Fox'. Underneath was the name 'Silver'. Jacob opened his maw to ask who or what the logo represented, but when he looked a third time it had faded to almost transparency, and disappeared completely while he watched.
"Cool. How do you do that?" Jacob asked, fascinated.
"Light sensitive chemicals." The fox commented. "And a special biodegradable paper." He added as the card crumbled to dust in Jacob's paw. "Now can we get down to business?"
"Sure." Jacob said, but he did not feel sure at all.
"Good. I'll give you a quick summary of the situation. You are in big trouble. The RCMP have enough evidence on you for vandalism, trespassing, theft, and assault to put you away for a while, and more importantly, get you kicked out of school and disowned by your parents. Any questions so far?"
Jacob glumly kept silent. A good lawyer might be able to knock those charges down but the fox was right about his parents. They contributed heavily to the party currently in power and would cut him off without a cent if they found out.
"The RCMP wanted you very badly, but they did not have the resources or the legal mandate to find you. My agency's charter is much broader, however, and our analysts more creative. We figured that you must be doing some intensive preparation so we hacked the logs of the websites with the info you would need for your planning. Bit by bit the pieces fell into place and we were able to build an electronic profile of you. When we saw activity that matched that profile researching this location and the President's habits we knew that we had you. We got a national security warrant and tapped into your simulator. That's how we knew what you were planning, and where to intercept you." The fox paused before continuing. "We need you Jacob."
"You want someone good with simulation software?" Jacob was even more confused. His father's company had a dozen people batter than him, and they all had security clearances to work on government projects.
"No, Jacob." The fox leaned over him and locked his disturbing blue-grey eyes on Jacob's brown orbs. "We need a Traceur." Jacob's jaw dropped. "We could have alerted the RCMP and been done with it, but we only agreed to help because we were looking for someone with your talents. Letting you go to see if you could actually get into the President's room was sort of a graduation test. You passed. So now you have a choice. Do exactly what we say and go free, with all past transgressions forgotten, or go directly into RCMP custody for endangering an internationally protected person." The fox stopped speaking, waiting patiently for Jacob's mind to process the information.
"Here's the deal." Silver went on, seeing that Jacob was too stunned to contribute to the conversation. "Recently, someone stole some very important technical information from the Canadian Government. It is held by someone with diplomatic immunity who is constantly under guard. He is selling it to another nation that needs it badly. The thief suspects that we know who did it, so he can't go out with the data to make the exchange personally. The buyer would never take it from a stranger's paw either, for fear of being caught in a sting operation. So their only option is a 'dead letter box', an exchange where one drops the item off in a pre-arranged location and the other retrieves it at a later time."
"The only opportunity to get the information back is during the exchange. A reliable source tells us that it will be placed under a bench in a public park in a magnetic container. We could just swarm the area and take it back, but our source would be burnt. The seller will also probably have duplicates and he will just arrange for another exchange at another time. So we have to get in there and switch it without being found out. If we could do that we could also replace the information with some subtly altered data that will set our competitors back a few years. We have no problem forging the data or duplicating the package, the question was how to make the switch without raising suspicions. That is where you come in."
"We've watched you in action. You are very smooth. You are also a familiar sight in the parks and streets around town. It would not be unusual to see you practising your Parkour at the drop site. There will be guards, who and how many we don't know, but if you are quick they will not be able to react nor will they be able to tell if you touched the package or not. You have one week to prepare. What do you say?"
"One week? It will take longer than that just to build the model!" Jacob complained.
"We already built it. We, uh, borrowed your software and collection techniques to make it, and we have already mapped out the best route to bring you in, switch the package and get out cleanly. So you can go straight to rehearsal. You will also have to start running in the area so that you become part of the background before the day of the switch."
"This could be dangerous, couldn't it?" Jacob asked nervously.
"It's either that or jail and poverty, and even a strong, fit guy like you will have a hard time preserving their chastity in the lock up." The fox said seriously. "You're just too young and slim to resist."
"Well, when you put it that way."
* * * * * * * *
Jacob might have been backed into a corner, but secretly, he was thrilled.
After agreeing to cooperate the fox had them driven to a secret location in the closed van. He was hooded and taken to a large room that was dominated by a massive graphic display monitor. A small ring-tail lemur helped him into a body suit that was even more advanced than his own.
"Joel will run you through the route we've created." The one called Silver told him, indicating the lemur. "If you have any changes to recommend feel free to have the program adjusted, but the timing is critical. You can't alter that. Understand?"
"Sure, uh, Silver." Jacob replied. "Uh, I don't know if I should mention it ... but," his tone dropped to a whisper, "... that lemur pinched my ass when he was helping me into the suit."
"Just slap him if he bothers you, he'll appreciate it."
There was a small public park near the Rideau Falls with a few iron benches overlooking the Ottawa River. He would come in along the path behind the National Research Council building and, at one point, do an underbar jump of the bench with the package and switch them on the fly. The switch could not be rehearsed in the simulator, but there was a duplicate of the bench in the room to practice on. Jacob found that the route did not need much adjustment, although he did alter a few moves, just to make it more his style.
Jacob was housed in a small suite that looked suspiciously like an interrogation cell just down the hallway from the lemur's lab. He was told that emails to his family explaining that he was off for a week rock climbing with a friend had already been sent. University did not start for another two weeks so there was no conflict there. Everything he needed was ready, including a new IPod with everything that Cog had ever performed on it. It was kind of spooky how well they knew him, when he thought about it.
They worked him hard. Besides the silver fox and the lemur he met a large muscular doberman pincher that ran him through strength and flexibility exercises that were completely new to him, and quite helpful. He was allowed to see no one else, but he was aware that others were watching him train.
"Your back up team need to know what you look like." Silver explained. "Not only will they be covering you when you pull the switch, they will be keeping an eye on you while you orient yourself to the ground. But you don't need to know who they are."
The orientation trips to the park and other parts of the route served to do two things. First of all, they allowed Jacob to get a feel for the surfaces he would be running on, leaping over and grabbing. Secondly, it made him a familiar sight in the park and its surroundings. He was free to pull any moves that he wanted, even sliding under a few benches, but never the bench that the package would be attached too.
"We don't want to make them too nervous." Silver told him.
Silver took him to the site for two hours of practice every day. Jacob was driven to the area hooded and isolated in the back of the van. He was let out near the British High Commission, on the former Earnscliffe estate. The fox had put a plastic watch band around his left wrist, and sealed it permanently by melting the ends together. Jacob had to be back when the alarm on the wrist watch went off.
"Or else." Silver had told him.
"What do I do if I run into someone I know?" Jacob had asked the first day.
"Be polite, but brush them off. Tell them you have an appointment for a job interview. But be back here, alone and on time." Silver had replied as he slid the door back for Jacob to exit.
Jacob was amazed at how well suited the area was for Parkour, and wondered why he had never visited it before. There was a selection of walls, railings, interesting structures and statuary to swing on, vault over, jump through, climb up and drop down. The pathway over the old sluice gates crossing the Rideau River was delight in and of itself. There was even an abandoned building, a former pavilion, with multiple levels, appealing angles and heart stopping drops. The locked gates around it were only a minor challenge. Jacob vowed to return and run this area with a few friends when this was all over.
He used the first day to study the route. He would start at Earnscliffe and warm up with an easy run with a few vaults as he came around behind the NRC buildings. Then he would ignore the foot bridge and do a series of cat vaults and balance walks across the dam over the first branch of the Rideau River. Once on Green Island, where the park was, he would muscle up some of the memorials, do a wall run up the taller ones, balance walk, drop and vault his way over to the benches that overlooked the river. Then he would conduct the underbar jump, feet first and face up so he could see to make the switch.
Once the deed was done he had to keep running in the same fashion, across the sluice gates to the old pavilion. He would leap and climb up several levels to get on the roof and drop and roll his way back down the other side. The first rendezvous point was the parking lot across from the French Embassy, but if he was being followed, or chased, he could turn south and lose them amongst the old houses and narrow twisted alleys of Rockcliffe.
"Don't worry if they go after you." The fox had told him. "Just keep running. We'll cover your back and we'll find you to pick you up." He tapped the watch to indicate how they would track him.
* * * * * * * *
The exchange would be made mid-morning, so Jacob's practice runs were done in the periods just before or after that time.
"To get them used to seeing you without scaring them into changing the exchange site." Silver explained.
There were not a lot of other creatures about in the area so early in the day. Most of the public servants that worked in the buildings that lined Sussex Drive were in their offices by then. But the traffic was still heavy as bureaucrats and diplomats came and went. There was no public parking in the area, so there were few visitors during the week, just the occasional jogger, retiree or street person.
By the third day Jacob had identified several regulars. There was a tall slim vixen that took her coffee break in front of the old city hall across from the park. There was a middle-aged brown bear that feed the pigeons by the road. A female wolf jogged the area every day, and a young black fox with a skateboard practised on the stairs and rails of the old pavilion. There were a few others that looked like they worked in the area. Jacob wondered how many were watching him and how many were guarding the exchange site.
On the fourth day, just three days from the grab, Jacob saw a new face, although it was not her face that he noticed at first, but her bust. She was wearing a hot pink top that looked like an athletic bra, and matching skin-tight shorts that attracted the eye and accentuated her hourglass figure. A figure that swayed enticingly as she jogged.
She was a sleek, brown, river otter, well muscled and as tall as him, if not taller, and she was coming from the direction of the French Embassy. She was just stepping onto the foot bridge that ran along beside the sluice gates as Jacob did a lazy vault over the fence that kept pedestrians off the sluice. Their eyes met from opposite ends of the bridge, and Jacob thought that he saw a slight smile appear on her face. He didn't know whether it was that smile, or the fact that her outfit left nothing to the imagination, but he decided to show off as he crossed the river.
Crossing the sluice required a series of bounding leaps, some balance walks and a couple of vaults. Jacob added some cat passes, a reverse vault, and some totally unnecessary roll outs. It was not strictly in the Parkour spirit of maximum efficiency, it was more like Free Running, but it was fun to have an audience.
When he looked to see if the otter was appreciating his performance he was surprised to see that she had vaulted over the security fence also. She was coming his way doing the same tricks as he was! They would collide over the entry chute of the large central sluice unless one of them gave way. Jacob's competitive spirit asserted itself, it would not be him that yielded, but she didn't look like she was a quitter either.
At the lest second, using the mountain climbing standard of saying what you want as opposed to what the problem is, Jacob yelled "Pop Vault!" If she did as he asked she would step up on the ledge surrounding the chute and launch herself upward, as if going for a higher level. Jacob intended to do another cat pass, and keep his body low and parallel to the rushing water below. They should pass each other with room to spare, but if she misinterpreted his call ... Jacob wondered exactly how going through a hydroelectric turbine would feel.
Jacob dove, the otter leapt, and they passed with room to spare.
On the other side, Jacob landed with a cat's grace and skidded to a stop. He turned to see that the otter had done the same. They stared at each other over the gap for a lone moment, and then she turned and vaulted the railing to return to the foot path, where she stood waiting. Jacob abandoned his practice and joined her.
"Nice call." She said smiling. "I was going to pop anyway because you seem to like the low dives, but it was good to know for sure. I'm Monique, by the way." She twirled a lock of her honey coloured hair and stared at him with deep, dark brown eyes. The kind of eyes you could lose yourself in.
"Jacob." He introduced himself. "You Parkour here often?" He asked
"Occasionally. On quiet days like today." She replied. "On weekends I do the city hall and sometimes the Booth Street Complex. You ever try them?"
"Not the city hall, but Booth Street, sure. It's pretty trippy with all those natural rock shelves and the old brick buildings. And the guards don't bother chasing you off." He grinned.
She laughed, and it sounded good to Jacob's ears. "Oh yeah, government buildings are the best. Weird architecture and fat old guards. You run here a lot?"
They chatted for a while, leaning on the railing with the falls roaring below them. She was twenty two, originally from Windsor, and had come to Ottawa for grad school. Jacob told her about himself, and explained why he wasn't attending MUN back in Saint John's. They told each other how they had gotten interested in Parkour, but Jacob refrained from mentioning the schemes that had gotten him in trouble with the government.
"Say, it's still early." She said cheerily. "Want to go on a run with me down along the Rideau River? There's a really cool old bridge there that's a real challenge, if you are up to it." Jacob's smile faded. He would like nothing more than to run with her, but he had to be back at the pickup point soon.
"I, uhm, have to take a rain check on that." He said with real regret. "I have a job interview and my ... uncle ... is coming to pick me up in a few minutes."
"Oh." It was her turn to look disappointed. "Okay then. Maybe I'll see you around some time." She turned back the way she had come and started jogging slowly away.
Jacob wanted to follow her, to explain that in another few days he would be free of obligations and would love to hang out with her, but he did not. Reluctantly, he turned and headed back to Earnscliffe, and the waiting van.
* * * * * * * *
The next morning Silver confronted him before the trip downtown.
"Who was the otter?" He asked Jacob.
"Just a Traceuse I happened to run into. She wanted to go on a run with me but I brushed her off like you said." The fox studied his face while he spoke, and Jacob's disappointed expression was better than a lie detector.
"Good. You are doing fine. Two more days and it's all over."
It was a hot morning, so Jacob left his shirt in the van, strapping a water bottle around his waist over his loose shorts before heading out. Once in the park, Jacob tried to concentrate on his route but he kept looking around to see if she would appear. By the time he reached the French Embassy he had already collected a few bruises for his inattention. He half-heartedly pushed off the wall separating the embassy grounds from the parking lot and headed back. But suddenly, she was beside him.
Today she was dressed in a bright orange version of the shorts and top she favoured. Jacob favoured them too, because they hugged every curve of her body like a second skin. He grinned at her and indicated that she should take the lead. She did, and he gave chase, trying to keep up and duplicate or improve on her moves. If he managed to overtake her he would earn the right to lead, but after watching her butt roll about under those shorts for a minute Jacob decided not to try too hard today.
She went for the pavilion, ignoring the easy rote and following the road down to water before going into a series of dynos, cat leaps and muscle ups to climb back to the roof. Going down the other side she chose a series of drops, finishing with a roll onto the hard concrete of the patio. Jacob followed her move for move. On the sluice gates he sped up to run parallel with her, forcing her to move even faster so that he would not overtake her. His chest heaved with the effort. Hers sort of bounced, despite the restraining efforts of the neon orange sports bra.
On Green Island she went for the monuments, and ignored the benches. That was okay with Jacob, he had practised them enough already. He threatened to pass her again by push vaulting the fountain rather than balance walking around like she had, but she fooled him by changing direction and he had to scurry to keep up. Then Monique crossed Sussex and ran along the front of the old city hall, where there were a few low walls to vault. At the far end she cut left, to follow the building, and they had to doge public servants standing around outside for a smoke as well as run through a series of descending levels. A few coffees went flying and Jacob shouted apologies as he pursued.
The south end of Green Island was connected to the mainland by an old steel trellis bridge. Monique scaled it with a modified wall hop and a cat crawl. Jacob chose the strut on the far side and imitated her. Once on top, they both sped along in a balance run until they reached the steep descending girder. Monique did a turn and grab to slow her down, Jacob went full out in a drop and roll that carried him well past her and into the park that ran along the Rideau River.
Jacob could take the lead now, but instead he stopped, motioned for her to follow him, and ducked into the thick bush that grew alongside the river. She followed, and in a minute they were hidden from the view of anyone watching the exchange site.
"How did your job interview go?" Monique asked when Jacob turned to her.
"Not bad. They want me back today for some testing." The lie slipped out easily because he had been rehearsing it in his head all morning. "But I have over an hour to kill before my uncle shows up. Do you want to run Lower Town?" Lower Town was one of the oldest parts of Ottawa. Erratic development and conflicting visions had made the neighbourhood a mishmash of architectures, one way streets and disconnected roads. It was full of alleys separated by low walls, concrete traffic barriers and miniature parks.
"No." She said, stepping up to him so that her bound breasts pressed against his bare chest. "I like it here."
It was a nice spot, Jacob reflected, a mossy little hollow hidden from view. The sound of the traffic on Sussex and King Edward was muted, but the sound of the river rushing by a few feet away could be heard clearly. Monique caressed his cheek with one paw and traced a pattern in the fur of his back with the other. Jacob suspected that she was interested in more than the scenery.
Her head was tilted to one side, her eyes were half closed and her lips were slightly parted. Jacob tilted his head and leaned in tentatively. She closed the gap and their lips touched, tasted, and then sealed passionately.
Jacob became lost in the moment. One second they were standing there, heads locked together above the bushes, and the next they were laying down on the soft moss, their bodies entwined. One of his paws was up under her bright orange top, cupping her breast, and hers was in his shorts, gripping one of his buttocks. Their legs slid back and forth while their tails wrapped around each other, her muscular tapered one squeezing his fuzzier appendage.
Monique's paw wedged its way between their rock-hard abs inside his shorts and fondled the rod that was growing there. Jacob pulled her sports bra off over her head and sucked her nipples as they too grew hard. They were dark brown, darker than her fur, and they tasted slightly like chocolate. Jacob wondered briefly if it was her natural taste or some lotion she applied. But his mind was soon occupied with other matters. Monique had gotten both paws in his shorts and had pulled them down to mid thigh, releasing his cock. It had already grown long and hard enough to stand on its own, and she stroked it with one paw as he continued to nuzzle her breasts.
After a few more minutes of fondling, she pressed him back onto the moss and pulled his shorts the rest of the way off. He toed off his shoes as she did the same. Then she pulled her own shorts off and threw them on the small pile of cast off clothing. Swinging around, she straddled his chest, facing toward his feet. Her heavy tail brushed his face as she leaned forward and took his erect cock in her mouth. Jacob shuddered at the sensation, so warm and wet with her tongue whipping back and forth inside.
Her firm round buttocks were in his face, her tail was held high, and her mons was rubbing his furry chin. A scent like acid on steel was coming from her. It made his nostrils flare and his desire mount. Inside her bobbing mouth his prick got even harder. Jacob separated her thighs and snuggled his head into the space between. His tongue, long and pink, came out and sought her moist slit. In seconds it found the solid pulsing nub of her clit. Jacob circled her thighs with his arms and settled in.
The exercise and physical discipline of Parkour gave one control and stamina in more ways than one. For several minutes Monique sucked, licked and caressed his cock with her lips. Her paws wandered around his thighs and stopped to squeeze his balls now and again. Though they ached for release, Jacob was able to hold off the explosion. For her part, she showed no signs of coming soon either, although her juices were flowing like honey from a hive, slow, thick and sweet. Jacob lapped at them greedily as his tongue circled, poked and probed the folds and caverns of her nether regions.
After a time, Jacob felt the urge to assert himself and set the pace. He gently rolled her over as he sat up, until she was on her back, her legs up, bent, and spread invitingly. Jacob knelt before her and marvelled at the sight. Her fur was brown like fine mahogany, with just a blaze of pink showing between her legs and at her mouth as she ran her tongue around her lips. Her nipples, erect and sticking up from firm breasts, were darker brown, but her eyes were darker still, almost black. They were glazed with desire. She was framed by a blanket of emerald green moss, and the light coming through the leaves danced on her in patterns of light green and gold.
His cock stood out hard and strong, trembling in the air above her.
"I, uh ... didn't bring any ... you know ..." he mumbled.
"Just do it." She moaned, arching her hips as her tail thrashed the ground. It was all the convincing he needed.
Jacob spread his knees until the tip of his cock was hovering just above her waiting slit. Pressing down on it with one digit, it parted the hot wet lips of her vagina. He shifted forward to sink it into her, pulling back on her hips at the same time. She slid easily on the cool moss. When he was far enough in he rolled his butt and rocked his hips to drive it the rest of the way, relaxing them to pull out again.
Each lunge made the bone at the base of his cock grind against her clit. Monique hooked her ankles around his waist and used her legs to increase the force of his thrust. His balls bounced below them. Smacking her ass as he dove in, rebounding off his as he pulled back. The tip of his prick teased the spongy pad of swollen flesh inside her, while her warm wet quim wrapped him like a glove.
Jacob could feel the pressure building up in both of them. He released her hips and put his paws on the moss beside her shoulders. He leaned over and stretched his legs out behind him until they were straight and he was up on his toes. While he shifted she brought her knees up to her chest, squeezing her generous boobs between them, and put her ankles on his shoulders. When they were done they were hardly touching, just a few square centimetres of ankle against shoulder and the tip of his cock, barely inside her.
Jacob bent his arms and he come down on her, pressing her legs into her chest, his cock sliding cleanly into her. Then he straightened his arms again, releasing the pressure on her torso and withdrawing his prick until the tip again barely touched her flesh. He repeated the deep thrusting technique ten times, and then he switched to clenching his buttocks as he leaned forward on outstretched arms. That made the tip of his cock rub up and down on her clit rapidly, and he was rewarded with a gasp of delight. Twenty times he clenched, and then went back to deep thrusts.
It was a technique he had read about, but had never tried. It was supposed to bring your female partner more rapidly to orgasm, while delaying your own. Jacob added a few touches of his own, turning to kiss her ankles, probing her mouth with his tongue when their heads came together. Whether it was the technique or the personal service, it seemed to be having the desired effect.
Monique writhed beneath him, fighting to thrust back and speed him up, but his weight and their position prevented that. He was in control. She bucked, she rocked, she tried to roll over on top of him, but like during their run he was able to anticipate her moves and counter them effectively. After a few minutes she gave up suddenly. Her eyes rolled back, her neck and back arched like a bow, and she let out a low, soft wail as liquid fire gushed from her loins.
Oh, but it felt so good, the hot fluids bathing his cock and easing its passage. Monique's legs went slack, and he shifted his arms to let her lower them as he dropped to his elbows. Chest to chest, head to head, and hip to hip, he drove into her harder and faster, almost frantic now as he let go and allowed the sensations to overwhelm him. In and out he went, with her powerful tail up between his legs adding to the thrust, until his balls seemed to swell to the bursting point, and finally beyond it.
Jacob came with a wail of his own, and continued to pump as his cum shot into her. His erection lasted longer than his seed, and he still filled her although he slowed and eventually stopped moving in her. He finally lay still, keeping his weight on his elbows so she could inhale as their breathing returned to normal.
"When do you have to go?" She asked, referring to the bogus testing he had told her about.
Jacob raised his head and glanced at the wrist watch the silver fox had given him. Along with tracking him and presumably blowing him up if he tried to escape, it kept pretty good time. "Another forty minutes." He told her.
"You're still hard." She smiled up at him,
"You're still soft." He grinned down.
"Again?" She wrapped her legs around his waist and rolled her hips.
"Again." He confirmed, and swayed his hips in return.
As they picked up speed, she pulled him close and spoke into his ear.
"Will you run with me tomorrow?" She asked. "Along the Rideau Canal all the way from the lower locks to the Dow's Lake Pavilion?"
"Sure. What time?"
"Ten o'clock. It's the only time I have free tomorrow. But, maybe after, we can come back here, to our special place. Can you make it Jacob? Tomorrow, at ten?"
Jacob held his breath. He looked down on her. She looked a little scared and nervous, vulnerable and afraid of rejection. But the package was going to be placed just before ten in the morning tomorrow, and picked up around ten thirty. He had to do his run for the fox between those two times. There was no way that he could make the run, turn over the package and meet her before she left, thinking that he had stood her up. He had no choice; the fox had him by the balls.
But here and now, she had him by the balls too, so to speak. Jacob swallowed, and for the third time in two days, lied to the female that he was rapidly falling in love with.
"I'll be there with wings on."
* * * * * * * *
Jacob barely made it back to the van as the alarm on his wrist sounded. He wondered what would have happened if he had been late. Would they have come looking for him? What if he had tried to run? Would the multi-function watch inject him with a drug to knock him unconscious, or worse?
The door slid open as he approached and the fox pulled him roughly into the van. He tossed Jacob onto a seat by the back doors; the old guy was a lot stronger than he looked.
"Where have you been?" Silver demanded, before Jacob had a chance to struggle out of the seat.
"In the bushes by the river." Jacob said truthfully enough, looking offended. He was starting to get a hang of this lying thing. "I got the shits after my first run and had to duck into the brush. I barely made it back in time because I had to wash myself off without being seen." The last part was true too, but it had not been little brown spots that Jacob had been rinsing off.
The fox looked doubtful. "You were seen running south with that otter again." He said accusingly. He rolled and shoulders and flexed his paws like he was preparing to demonstrate how to tear a pine marten in two.
"Yeah, she runs this area too sometimes. It's not like I can ignore her. Traceurs and Traceuses routinely run together when their routes are going the same way. We parted by the bridge behind the Foreign Affairs Building. She went south, I went north." Jacob neglected to add that the goodbyes had occurred after an hour in the bushes. "She invited me on a run tomorrow. Ten o'clock by the seven locks. I told her that I'd be there, just to keep her out of the area while I make my run." His voice filled with real regret. "I hope you're happy now, because she is going to hate me forever when I don't show."
There must have been just enough righteous outrage in his voice to give the fox second thoughts. He relaxed, a little bit.
"Keep focused on what you need to do." The fox said, eyeing him sideways. "There will be other females."
Jacob knew that that was true, but it did not help.
* * * * * * * *
The final day of his indenture dawned clear and cold, reminding Jacob that summer would soon be over. He would have to be back in school in another week. He spent the early morning loosening up and practising the crucial switch as he slid under the bench. Ten times in a row he did it perfectly, and the fox called a halt, least he jinx it by over training.
Silver gave him his final instructions by the British High Commission before opening the door and sending him out on his mission.
"Remember, whatever happens after the switch you keep going. If there is anyone following you we will blow off the rendezvous by the French Embassy and start tracking you with the wrist watch. Once it's safe we'll pick you up." The fox looked him over. "How's the bowels? Tension can cause diarrhoea and stomach cramps. Not too nervous today are you?"
"I'm ready." Jacob said absently, and he was. This was like one of his schemes, and he was already in the zone. He reached into the pocket of his shorts and thumbed the IPod they had given him. The hauntingly beautiful opening strains of 'Just Visiting' filled his head. "Let's do this." It was ten minutes past ten, time to begin the run.
In comparison with the practices, the run was almost too simple. He vaulted, leapt, and muscled his way up, over and across the same obstacles he had run a hundred times in the simulator, and a dozen times in the real world. It was almost boring. But the he had timed his moves to Cog's music coming through the ear buds, and he flowed with it along the route like a toy boat on a fast river. He noticed some of the same creatures again, the bear, the vixen, a few others. All of them seemed intent on him and him alone, but that could have been because he was so focused that everything else was a reflection of what he was doing.
He came to the three benches. He had always underbarred the first and the last of them, never the one in the middle. But it was exactly the same as the others, with the exception that it should have a small magnetic box stuck to its bottom. Jacob took a deep breath, raced toward them, leapt the low wall that separated them from the rest of the park, and dove at the middle one, feet first.
The rest of the world seemed to slow down as he began to disappear under the bench. He had the duplicate package already cupped in his left paw, and he held it against his chest as his legs vanished under the bench. He flexed the digits of his right paw and positioned it beside the left as his torso followed his legs, already he could see light on the other side. There was a split second when his head, chest and arms were all under the bench and the sun was cut off so he could see every detail of the bottom. There were several wads of gum stuck under there, and something that looked like it had come from someone's snout. There was a candy bar wrapper stuck between two slats, and an empty condom foil, but he could not see the package. Had he missed it? Had he jumped the wrong bench?
The thoughts flew through his head at light speed, and Jacob had time for a few more before he realized that in his heightened state of awareness he was as one frozen in time, and he had not yet passed under the bench. He looked forward to see how close the edge was and that is when he spied the box. It was stuck on the iron support right up front, barley hidden at all. Training and muscle memory took over and his paws shot out. The one that had been full came back empty, and the one that had been empty came back full.
Time sped up again almost instantly. Jacob barely had time to stuff the package in his pocket before his feet struck the wall separating the benches from the cliff and he had to push up with paws. His momentum carried him upright and he balance walked the rim of the cliff. He looked around surreptitiously as he did. The bear has stopped feeding the pigeons and was half standing, looking in Jacob's direction. Jacob altered his route and headed for the monument closest to the bear, shortening the distance between them. They had discussed this tactic back in the simulator room.
"If they suspect that you have the package they will expect you to move away from them." Silver had lectured. "By moving toward them you sow doubt in their minds, and they will check the bench before they close in on you. Stay in the park until you see them relax again, but stay near the exit just in case."
"Wouldn't they just ignore me if they saw me make the switch though?" Jacob had asked. "Considering that they probably have copies."
"These are security agents, not rocket scientists." The fox had answered. "And are the ones most likely to be captured and talk if we were on to them. The less they know the better. No, if they think you have it they will try to get it back, by prying it out of your dead paws if they have to."
Jacob took his time on the monuments, and tried not to stare at the bear. The bear stared at him though, with only an occasional glance towards the benches. Jacob did a reverse vault to take a peek, as saw the wolf he had noted earlier walk by the bench and stick her foot under it. The wolf's shoes were in the latest hip hop style, covered with shiny bling; like little mirrors, Jacob realized. The wolf glanced at her toes but kept walking. The bear went back to feeding the pigeons. Jacob vaulted one more wall just for show, and turned toward the French Embassy.
He left the foot bridge and crossed the sluice gates as he had done every day before. It would be suspicious if he just cut and ran now. On the other side he was tempted to head straight for the parking lot, but he forced himself to run the pavilion one last time. From its roof he could see the park, and confirm that the watchers were still in place. When he dropped down to the grassy slope on the far side of the pavilion, he would be out of their sight and only fifty metres from the pick up point.
Jacob spun around as he stepped off the edge of the building, grabbed the top of the wall to slow his momentum and dropped gracefully to the ground with his legs slightly bent. He sprang back up and pushed off the wall to give him new momentum and to spin him in the right direction. When he landed he was pointed at the parking lot and already almost at full speed.
He had not gone five steps when he heard the pounding of feet behind him. He looked over his shoulder desperately, certain that the bear was after him, and almost ran in to a tree in shock. Coming fast up the paved pathway from the park was the otter, Monique; and boy, did she look pissed.
Jacob panicked. He could not lead her to the rendezvous. The fox might shoot her by mistake. Instead of continuing to the parking lot he turned right and headed toward Sussex Drive. He could hear her curse as she slipped on the damp grass trying to turn to follow.
Jacob checked the traffic quickly as he approached the street. The outside lane was moving fast but the inside one was backed up with people waiting to turn left on to King Edward. There were hardly any cars going in the opposite direction. He changed his angle of approach slightly, and timed his leap to carry him over a low sports car and onto a stationary sedan. Grabbing the trim on the window was enough to snap his feet around in the right direction and he hit the other side of the road running. Angry horns blared at him, but also at the otter following him.
Jacob had to get away from her so the van could pick him up. He raced down along the Rideau River, keeping well away from the creatures he had seen watching the park earlier in the week, and turned on Union Street where he found that the first of three trestle bridges connecting the islands was blocked by a three-car pile-up. Without hesitation, he scrambled up the first angled girder as he had the day before, and ran along the top of the steel web, above the traffic.
"Jacob. Stop!" Monique called from the opposite side of the bridge. The urgency in her voice compelled him to skid to a halt, halfway between the mainland and Maple Island. He stood breathing heavily as she moved up parallel to him on the other side.
"Look Monique," he began, "I'm sorry I stood you up, but there was something I had to do."
"I know." She said. Jacob's brow wrinkled in thought as he absorbed that. After a short pause she continued. "Pass it over."
"P-pass what over?" He stammered, totally confused now.
"Stop playing games." Monique snarled. "I was assigned to the surveillance unit on the dead letter box when you started running in the park regularly. You seemed legit, but your Parkour practices could still interfere with the transfer, so my job was to lure you away. When you didn't show at the locks I was sure that you were after the package. I rushed back and arrived just as you went under the bench. I saw you switch the package. The others weren't watching for it but I knew what you were capable off." She tossed her short honey-coloured hair. "Too bad. If you had taken me up on my offer we could have had a good run and a couple of hours in the bushes before saying goodbye. But now I have to get that package back in place before the buyer gets here. You can still get out of this alive if you give it to me now." She emphasized her demand by pulling a small black automatic out of her pouch and pointing it at him.
Jacob's mind worked faster than it had ever done before. She was dressed like before, in canary yellow this time, and she did not seem to have a radio on her. Even with miniaturization it would be hard to hide one in those skimpy outfits. She held the gun stiffly, like she was not too used to it. But Jacob knew that she had excellent eye-paw coordination and good reflexes.
Reflexes, he repeated to himself, I wonder just how good her reflexes are?
"Alright." He said as he reached into his pocket. "I'm no spy, just a conscript. Here it is." He tossed the shiny metal box toward her gun paw, and a little to the left.
There was no way that she could turn and grab it with her other paw on the narrow girder. Instinctively, she released the pistol and grabbed for the spinning box, snatching out of the air just before it dropped into the rushing river below. By the time she had brought it to her face her pistol had already entered the water with a 'plonk'. Her smile of triumph faded as she tuned the metallic rectangular object over and saw the white circle of the click wheel on one side and the image of an apple with a bite taken out of it on the other. Music was coming from it.
"Cog is playing on the shuffle." Jacob advised her, holding up the duller magnetic box he had pulled off the bench and waggling it in the air. "Enjoy." With that he turned and sped along the girder.
Her curses followed him, as did a slightly more damaging projectile. He almost fell off the bridge when the IPod hit him in the back of the head, but Jacob managed to regain his footing and slide down the far side, rolling out as he had done before. He was up and running again in an instant.
Traffic was backed up past the next two bridges. Jacob vaulted Volvos, dove over Dodges and even slid under a Sienna to get back on Green Island. The old city hall blocked the view of the park, and that was good, he supposed, he did not want her compatriots seeing her chasing him and joining in. But he did not want to lose her either, because then the switch would be reported and they would simply pass a copy over somewhere else. If he ran long enough the fox would come after him with the van, see the otter, and grab her, hopefully. Then they could interrogate her, or turn her, or whatever it was that intelligence agencies did with prisoners.
Jacob could hear her feet on the pavement behind him and the angry horns of the drivers whose cars were getting dented by the pair as they vaulted and slid over them, not always gracefully. The third and last bridge was blocked by a large delivery van. It was too tall to vault, too awkward to climb quickly and too low to crawl under. Jacob opted to scale the girders again. Glancing over his shoulder he saw that Monique had also. At the far end Jacob risked running straight down the steep incline. That way he would be going faster when he landed, if he didn't break and ankle in the process.
The daring move worked, and Jacob was a good twenty metres ahead when they crossed under King Edward Avenue and entered Lower Town.
Now the race really began. Having experienced the strength of the otter Jacob had no doubt that she could take him down if she could catch up. One swipe of her heavily muscled tail would do it. He had to stay ahead. He could choose the route, but would have to evaluate obstacles on the fly. She would have the advantage of seeing how well his moves worked and try something different if it would save time. He had to concentrate like never before.
Jacob zigzagged through the streets and parks at full speed. He vaulted fences and cars, leapt over benches and low walls. He tried to lose her in the crowded alleys of the Byward Market, but the throngs slowed him down too much and he had to make a break for the open streets again.
He crossed Sussex where it ran north past the American Embassy. Sliding across the hood of a Ford he gained enough height to clear the traffic barriers that had lined the streets there since 9/11. Scaling the wrought iron fence would get him shot by trigger happy marines, he guessed, so he ran around the embassy and up the stairs to Major's Hill Park, which overlooked the final seven locks on the Rideau Canal.
With the otter in hot pursuit, Jacob vaulted the railing designed to keep inebriated celebrants from falling over the steep cliffs during the Canada Day firework display. He dropped and rolled across the service road behind the castle-like Chateau Laurier Hotel and underbarred the next barrier to slide down the grassy slope to the locks.
Boats were being lowered from the canal to the Ottawa River and the last set of lock gates were just closing. Jacob balance walked them to get to the other side. As he hit the shore he pushed the startled Parks Canada employee working the crank aside and kicked the ratchet into reverse, widening the gap. Then he jogged backwards up the slope slowly, taking a little break. He expected Monique to have backtrack to a lower gate to cross, losing another fifty metres in the process, and so he could afford to harbour his strength.
Monique had another idea, however. She ran parallel to him on the opposite side of the canal. On her side the sidewalk ended against the bridge under Wellington Street, but on Jacob's side it continued. Just before the sidewalk ran out Monique followed the abutment up and jumped out over the water. She arched up, over, down, and on to the deck of a boat coming in fast to make the lock before the gates closed. Jacob did not wait for her to leap to his side; he turned and ran for his life.
On the other side of Wellington the canal passed by the National Arts Centre. One could continue on south from there or use the stairs to climb up to street level. Jacob opted to wait until they were past the stairs and scale the wall of the NAC instead. Up and up he climbed. Using the angles and fancy stonework to bounce and swing to the roof-top gardens. They were on several levels, each surrounded by low walls, but that did not slow him down. He dropped back to street level on the corner of Albert and Elgin, startling a group of homeless people.
Jacob headed west through the downtown core. Now it was a matter of speed and stamina. The streets were straight, but not empty. In order to avoid the pedestrians it was necessary to vault an array of recycle stations, trash bins, newspaper dispensers, and bus stop benches. There was the added excitement of dodging or sliding over cars at each major intersection. It was only a kilometre long, but it was a hard run all the same.
They left the high rises behind as Albert Street skimmed the south edge of Labreton Flats. Jacob debated tuning north and heading for the islands, dams and chutes around the Chaudière Falls, but decided against it. He could sense Monique breathing down his neck. Her strength would be an advantage in close terrain, and the van would not be able to follow them through the narrow twisted ways. He decided to take advantage of his slim runner's build and race straight down Albert Street until the fox arrived to handle the situation.
They ran flat out for another kilometre, Jason slowly widening the gap between them. But Monique must have caught on to his scheme, because as they passed Preston Street she put on a burst of speed. It was not sustainable, but it was enough to bring her close enough to make a grab for Jacob. For an instant she had him by his tail. He had to roll down a service road behind the City Centre industrial complex to escape.
Jacob looked around as he ran. He was trapped! On the left, the outer wall of the industrial complex was flat and featureless. On his right there was a tall fence that curved over towards him as it rose, to keep people from going on the tracks of the commuter train line. It was almost horizontal where it ended. Jacob could scale it, but before he could get past the overhang Monique would have him. He looked ahead, the triangle of land they were running down got narrower and narrower and finally disappeared underneath the Somerset Street Bridge; a conveniently isolated place for her to beat his brains in before taking the package.
Jacob saw one chance to delay his fate. Up ahead there was a tall lamp post a metre or two away from the barrier. It stood halfway along a section of fence, where the chain link would have the most give. It was the least desirable part of a fence to hit running because it tended to bounce back and throw a Traceur off, but he could use that to his advantage for once.
Jacob ran straight for the fence, launching himself at it as he passed the lamp post. He hit it hard, and dug his toes in to push up as it bowed in. When it would go no farther he let it push him back, releasing and spinning as he was thrown back to the pole. He pulled his legs up and reached out with his paws as he passed over the astonished Monique, and landed on the lamp post with all fours like a lemur. He immediately began to scramble up the pole, climbing until he was well above the overhang.
Down below Monique was forced to start her climb much lower than Jacob had. That gave him time to spring on to the overhanging fence and scramble down to the embankment beside the train tracks. He heard a noise and looked left. A train was approaching, moving fast, but it was still a good ways away. Jacob ran for the edge of the embankment and threw himself high into the air, arms and legs flailing to maintain height as he sailed across the tracks. He caught the far edge with centimetres to spare, and rolled out of the jump, coming to rest against the base of the fence on the far side.
Jacob scrambled to his feet. He was not much better off, but at least he had room to run. Now the question was north toward the flats, or south into the built-up area? In his moment of indecision he saw that Monique had reached the level of the overhang on the lamp post. Behind her, on the service road, a white van had spun to a halt and the side door was sliding open. Jacob watched, frozen in fascination as Monique leapt from the pole to the fence and bounced down to the ground. She ignored the van, glanced at the oncoming train, calculation evident on her face, and ran to leap across the gap.
Jacob had calculated the speed and distance too. She should clear the train with room to spare, probably giving the driver a heart attack in the process, and end up face-to-face with him while the train skidded to a stop on its emergency brakes. The train would block the fox's view while she pummelled him. Smooth move Exlax, he chided himself, as he balled his paws into fists, prepared to do his best to hold her off as long as possible.
Time slowed down again as she approached the edge of the far embankment. Her face was set in a grimace with teeth clenched as her legs and arms pumped, bringing her to the launching point. She was just three strides away, two, one. She crouched as she began her leap and stretched her arms toward him as her first foot left the ground. But in that last unforgiving minute something went wrong. Perhaps her heel slipped on a loose stone, or her toe caught on a protruding root, but instead of flying over the tracks Monique tumbled down on top of them. Jacob screamed her name, and perhaps she screamed his, he could not be sure as the blaring horn of the train and screeching of its brakes drowned her out.
* * * * * * * *
Jacob was still in shock when the big silver fox cut the lock off an access gate and crossed the tracks to where he sat, staring at the stationary train and the red stain on the tracks.
"Too bad, accidents happen I guess." The fox did not sound like it had affected him at all. He probably saw death every day, Jacob thought, wondering if the numb feeling that filled him could become a permanent state of existence.
"We have to get you out of here before the police arrive." Silver continued as he helped Jacob to his feet. "Don't worry about having to testify at the inquiry. We'll take care of it." Jacob only sniffled in response, tears of loss and anger still streaming down his face.
"Cheer up kid. You did good." The fox held up the small magnetic box which he had slipped out of Jacob's pocket without him noticing. "She would have killed you if she had caught you, but now she won't be squealing about the switch either."
"Yeah, almost a perfect ending." Jacob mumbled as they crossed the tracks to where the white van stood waiting.
"Almost." Silver said with some compassion, patting Jacob on the back as he climbed into the van. As Jacob sat down the fox pulled a knife out of nowhere and neatly sliced the strap, releasing the wrist watch. "Almost. Take him home Rusty." Silver stayed outside, slid the side door closed, and the big doberman drove away.
* * * * * * * *
Silver watched the van disappear around the corner just as the flashing lights of the local police appeared. He took out a leather folder that held credentials identifying him as a member of the National Counter-Terrorism Unit and hung it around his neck. The credentials were fake, but the head of the NCTU would back him up once the Director had a word with him.
He stood there waiting for the police to figure out how to get down here to the tracks. While he waited he pulled out his cell phone and called the agency Operations Centre.
"Silver reporting." He said as the call was picked up. "The mission was successful but I need a cleanup operation .... Right, the train accident .... On the news already? Damn, but they're fast. Anyway, we'll paint it as a couple of kids fooling around. A tragic accident, yadda, yadda yadda, you know the drill." The old fox listened for a few moments, the phone held between ear and shoulder as he took the opportunity to unscrew the cumbersome silencer from the end of his automatic before returning it to the holster.
"Oh, one more thing." He interrupted. "Get a hold of the coroner and inform him that it is a national security case .... That's right, he's under our orders now. Tell him to just ignore the bullet hole in her back." The silver fox closed the phone and slid it into an inside pocket with one paw as his other paw did the same with the soiled silencer. He wiped his paws on the damp grass to get rid of the gunpowder residue.
Perfect endings don't just happen, he thought to himself, keeping his paws in plain view as the police approached, sometimes they needed a little push.
The End.
Jacob is © Commander_Eagle
Joel (the lemur) is © Joel the Lemur
Rusty, Silver and Monique are © me, Dikran_O
The title is from Kipling
The geography is accurate, courtesy of Google Maps and Wikimapia.org