Dirty Little Secrets ...Part 7 ...Psychological Warfare

Defeat is ninety five percent condition and attitude of heart and not the result of struggle. We're defeated before we even put up the fight, that's why psychological warfare works!
― Dr. Lucas D. Shallua

Under Threat

There was a lightning storm raging outside, which though violent, was not as menacing as the fear and chaos brewing within us.

Mer had been attacked―her front door splintered by a high-powered bullet―her privacy invaded.

The threat was tangible and powerful. It said Back off or be destroyed. It signalled she had been seen and tagged as an accuser, an obstacle and possibly an enemy and the message was clear.

For now, it was a warning, but persist and any further resistance would undoubtedly be met with lethal force.

There was no doubt we were in the crosshairs of an unforgiving foe bent on our destruction.

We were huddled together on my couch, lights off with blue flickering lightning illumining the windows.

It occurred to me to check the street outside and when I did my blood froze. We weren't experiencing a power outage caused by the storm―the lighted windows of nearby houses contradicted that.

Only the electricity in my house had been shut off and that made me even more apprehensive―the main electrical panel was not outside but inside in the basement.

Apparently, our safe house had already been compromised before Mer even got here. And whoever did it must have already known about me and gained access to the premiss.

I motioned for Mer not to talk and went and retrieved paper and pen from my writing desk.

Don't say anything aloud, I wrote, they've planted devices in the house and ours is the only house on the street without power.

Even in the soft candle glow I could see her face drain of colour.

She took up the pen and wrote back, what shall we do?

I scrawled a simple message: Put on your coat and grab your things. We can't stay here.

She began silently gathering up her stuff and I grabbed my go-bag that I always had prepared in case I need to quickly leave on an assignment

I snuffed all the candles and probably vainly locked all the doors, as I guided Mer out to my car.

"The car is probably not bugged," I whispered. "It's been with me all day, but let's not take a chance talking. We're heading to a friend's place and we can sort things out when we get there."

She nodded soberly.

Thankfully, the car hadn't been disabled and it started right away. We drove in silence to Trent Michael's townhouse.

I hoped he'd be in and not too shocked when we showed up on his doorstep. Thankfully, when I last saw him at the Wheatsheaf Tavern I mentioned the assignment we were working on was dangerous. He might not be too surprised to find the two of us asking for asylum for the night.

Turns out I underestimated my friend.

The moment my car's headlights swept across his front window as we pulled into his driveway, Trent was at his door waiting for us and smiling.

"Looks like I'm going to rescue two fugitives," he laughed as he greeted us.

I introduced him to Meredith and we all went into to Trent's spacious front room and sat around his huge stone fireplace.

The warmth of the flames abolished the damp chill of the stormy night and Trent provided plenty of hot coffee to go with a delicious coffee cake he purchased earlier that day from the St. Lawrence Marketplace.

"I guess you weren't exaggerating the dangerous nature of the assignment you two are presently exploring," he smiled, trying o lighten the mood.

"I really appreciate you allowing us to crash here for the night, Trent," I said solemnly. "Yeah, we seem to have poked the bear and he bit back."

"Are you going to tell me the bear's name?" he asked jokingly.

"It's Simon Pollock and we got a bit too close to exposing his activities at the Enigma Club. Meredith was attacked today and had a bullet fired into the front door of her house. She decided to stay at my place for the night and then we discovered my house had been bugged as well and the the power shut off. I wasn't sure what other surprises he left in store for us there."

Trent was appalled. "I can't believe a man of Pollock's stature would be so direct in making a threat. What could he hope to accomplish?"

"To scare the hell out of us and force our silence," Mer replied, "but I don't back down that easily."

"Maybe not," Trent conceded, "but you guys need police protection. You don't know what spyware might have been placed in your homes and vehicles and what other nasty tricks he might have in mind."

Mer's bravado began to weaken. "You're probably right―I think I got too far out over my skis and put Logan and I in jeopardy."

"I've got a friend who works for CSIS, the Canadian spy agency―he deals with international espionage and domestic terrorism. He can help you and get you police protection."

"That sounds like a plan, Trent," I interjected, "this situation has gotten too dangerous for us to handle alone."

Mer agreed. "How soon can you get in touch with your friend?" she asked.

"I'll call him right now. At least you're safe here for the night."

Trent was right, we were safe for the night but who knew what tomorrow might bring?

We needed help and I didn't mind Trent helping one bit. I began to relax realizing we weren't alone in this fight and we'd have powerful allies.

To be continued...

© 2025, John J Geddes. All rights reserved

Photo