Koda’s eyes took on a distant look. ‘I hadn’t spoken to Sharise in . . . God . . . years. Our relationship didn’t exactly end well.’

‘So I take it. You know Keisha Williams, right? The cousin of your ex? She was also blown up. About eight hours earlier in her toy shop on Granville Island. You see any connections there?’

Koda’s face paled even more, turned less tan and more grey. He rubbed his finger down his nose, along the stitches, and swallowed hard. ‘I knew her, yeah, of course. But I don’t know why she would be targeted for anything. I mean, she’s a mother. A family person. A good woman. She’s been nothing but a toymaker the last ten years; why would anyone want to hurt her?’

Striker looked up from the notebook. ‘For the last ten years?’

Koda bit his lip. ‘Or however long. Figure of speech.’

Striker just nodded. ‘This might sound a bit odd to you, but on the note of toymakers, did Keisha Williams ever give you any dolls?’

‘Dolls?’

‘Yes, dolls. Toys. Like a miniature policeman.’

‘No.’

‘Would it have any significance to you if we found one at the crime scene?’

Koda’s face reddened. He looked confused and worried. ‘I don’t . . . think so.’

‘Don’t think so?’

‘No. It wouldn’t.’

‘Well, let me know if something comes to mind.’

Koda said he would and Striker asked a few more questions.

During the entire conversation, Harry sat there quietly, drinking his coffee and watching the two men. For the first time, he spoke up. ‘Maybe we should get going,’ he said. ‘You’re not looking too well, Chad.’

‘We’re almost done here anyway,’ Striker said. He kept his eyes on Koda, refused to look away. ‘What about Mike Rothschild? You knew him from your earlier days with the department, right? You two share any common enemies?’

‘Rothschild?’ Koda asked. The name obviously shocked him.

Harry cleared his throat. For the most part during the conversation, his expression had remained one of calmness and patience, but over the last few questions, that serenity appeared to have escaped him. His eyes narrowed, and his already-crimson cheeks turned a darker shade of red. ‘What does Rothschild have to do with any of this?’

‘The bomber went for him today. Fortunately, he wasn’t successful.’

‘Rothschild?’ Harry asked, a note of uncertainty in his voice.

His eyes glossed over and a look of disbelief filled his face. He sat back stunned and speechless. Koda, meanwhile, pushed back from the table. He looked blankly around the room. Shielded his eyes from the bright light pouring in through the windows.

‘I don’t feel so good,’ he said. ‘Gonna use . . . gonna use the washroom.’

He stood up. Stepped awkwardly back from the table and stumbled. Righted himself and walked down to the men’s restroom.

Striker watched him go, then looked to Harry. ‘Maybe Koda should be back in the hospital.’

Harry didn’t comment; he just looked at the front door and said, ‘Your partner sure is taking an unusually long time to get a laptop.’

Striker sipped his coffee, forced a smirk. ‘Probably locked herself in the car again.’ When Harry didn’t laugh and instead kept staring at the door, Striker went on the offensive. ‘So why the game, friend?’

Harry finally looked away from the door and focused on Striker. ‘What game?’

‘I had Koda under guard. My order. Who are you to release him?’

A look of something between doubt and concern flooded Harry’s features. ‘Look, Shipwreck, it wasn’t like that. It was his decision to leave, not mine. I tried to make him stay there. Under doctor care.’

‘But he refused?’

Harry splayed his hands. ‘Chad is like that. Said he wanted to get the hell out of there. And how was I to legally stop him? I mean, you tell me, is he being charged with anything? Even detained?’

Striker saw through Harry’s veil. This was a fishing exercise. To see what he and Felicia really knew.

He didn’t bite.

‘Koda’s not being charged with anything, Harry. He’s the victim, right? But I still needed to question him in order to find out who the hell is really behind this, and why it’s happening. I thought that was fairly obvious.’

Harry looked down into his coffee cup.

‘Nothing is obvious,’ he said. ‘Fact is, I’ve been over this a dozen times with him myself, and his brain is hash. Guy has no idea why it happened or who would do it. Not a clue.’

‘So, basically, you conducted an interview with him yourself. You’ll need to put a police statement into the report then.’

Harry acted as if he had never heard Striker. ‘If I were you, I’d focus my investigation on the forensic details. See what your bomb girl can give you.’

‘I’ll keep it under consideration.’

Harry glanced down at Striker’s open notebook, and Striker closed it. For the first time, Striker saw a flash of suppressed anger in the man’s eyes. He looked back at Striker and his blue eyes were cold.

The dance was over.

‘You know, Striker, I remember when you just got on this job. You were cocky as hell then too. A real piss kid.’

‘Long time ago, Harry. Life changes. The job changes. Hell, even the people change. Eventually, all dinosaurs go extinct.’

Harry’s face hardened. ‘You saying I’m old now?’

‘I’m saying things change.’

‘Yeah? Well sometimes not for the better.’

Striker eyed the man. ‘We fighting here, Harry?’

‘Course not. We’re on the same team, Striker. I always remember that.’

Striker said nothing back. He just sipped his coffee and wondered what the hell was taking Felicia so long. As if reading his mind, she walked in through the front door, shook her head in frustration, and sat down with the laptop.

‘You run into a shoe sale?’ Harry asked.

Felicia gave him a dry look. ‘That’s some funny stuff, Harry. Don’t quit your day job.’

‘What took you so long?’ he pressed.

She slammed the laptop on the table. ‘These things are shit, okay? Someone’s bent the entire cradle – the pin was jammed and I couldn’t get it to release. If you can do better, then next time you go get it.’

She’d barely finished speaking when Koda exited the washroom. He walked slowly, gingerly, right up to the table. Placed his hand against the edge. Stabilized himself. ‘These goddam pills . . . I don’t feel so well.’

Harry looked at Striker. ‘We finished our little masquerade?’

Striker acted as if he hadn’t heard the comment and pulled the laptop across the table. ‘Why don’t you give me the names of these real estate business partners you were talking about, Chad, and we’ll run them through the system.’

The man’s eyes took on a lost look. Scared. Confused. Tired.

‘He needs rest,’ Harry said.

Striker nodded slowly, then muttered ‘fine’ and closed the laptop. ‘Go get some rest then, Chad.’ He handed the man his business card. ‘Email me the names of your Hong Kong associates and these law suits, and I’ll check it out. And call me if anything else comes to mind.’

Koda took the card and nodded. Then Harry stood up and the two men left the coffee shop. The door slammed hard behind them.

Striker turned to Felicia. ‘Well? You get the tracker installed?’

She smiled. ‘We’re in business.’

He let out a relieved breath. ‘Thank God. You took so long, Harry started asking questions. You had me worried there.’

She held up her palms. They were clean. ‘Had to get the grime off my hands first; otherwise they’d know.’ She opened the flap of her coat, pulled out the handheld GPS tracker, then pressed the On button. Seconds later, a small map appeared across the LED display and a car icon blipped. The icon was already heading south on Glen Drive.

Calculated speed: 100 kilometres per hour.

‘Holy shit, they’re flying,’ Felicia said.