Unredeemed Read online

  1Unredeemed

  By J M Dolan

  Amazon Print 978-0-2286-0308-5

  BWL Publishing Print 978-0-2286-0309-2

  Copyright 2018 by Dawn Flaata

  Cover Art Michelle Lee

  Photo Credit Jacki Flaata

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book

  Dedication

  To My Family and Friends

  For their support, love, and wealth of material

  Isaiah 43:1 “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you.

  I have called you by name, you are mine.”

  BWL Publishing Inc wishes to acknowledge the Province of Alberta for its financial support.

  Prologue

  Void of witness, the reverberation temporarily muted the wail of siren and interrupted the relentless hum of city traffic. The horrifying scream lasted a full five counts — then stopped — dead — on a slab of sidewalk.

  A lone man stood on the steps of the homeless shelter, hands in pockets, shoulders hunched. The nighttime temperature had dipped below freezing and an icy wind was blowing. It was going to be heartlessly cold. He was glad to have found a bed for the night. That wasn’t always the case.

  The illusive echo caught at his attention. More like something he thought he’d heard than a recognized sound. He waited to hear it again, but it was lost to him. Yet still he paused. There was something nagging about the displaced air. Probably late-night bar patrons making their way to their vehicles. He shivered in the relentless cold. Giving in to the demands of his body, he pulled a hand from his pocket and hit the buzzer. The familiar drone would signal someone to let him in. His only thought now to get inside.

  Chapter One

  The late-night traffic on the QE II was brutal, made worse by the icy downpour. Long lines of vehicles jockeyed for position intensifying the vicious pounding in Jamee’s head. Maybe it wasn’t pain, but pressure. Like her brain was caving in. Deflating; folding into itself like a cake taken from the oven prematurely. She considered the calming effects of yoga breathing, mantra chanting or simply bawling her eyes out. Downside was, she might feel marginally better, but her current problems weren’t likely to disappear. Buck up girl, she thought and pulled into airport parking. With the skill of long practice, she maneuvered the 66 silver Mustang with red interior into an empty space.

  She’d bought the car on the cheap, the year after graduating college. Then, with desperate determination hung onto it, despite ongoing mechanical issues. A number of times she could have sold it for a bundle, but driving it gave her a sense of freedom, and there was always the chance that someday she’d have serious money to go with the classic.

  Not today, though. Today, her mission was to collect the European caregiver who was enroute and deliver the woman to Jamee’s sister, Abi.

  Hiring a live-in care-giver was the brainchild of her low life brother-in-law, Jeff. Abi’s medical problems precluded the end of their marriage. The promise of in sickness and in health hadn’t meant a thing to him. The grand gesture of providing a caregiver presumably assuaged any guilt he might feel for abandoning Abi and his kids.

  Jeff was fond of saying his job as a driller in the patch meant he was never home anyway. Jamee suspected it was Jeff’s way of justifying his actions as the jerk had taken off, the minute plans were finalized.

  Even in parting Jeff made little effort to help the family; just used his money to hire a woman from some overseas agency. The jerk took off the minute the divorce finalized.

  With Jeff’s arse scarce, Jamee had scheduled a few days off to help get everyone settled. Sis and kids were moving in with her at the Blair family homestead.

  Her long stride ate up the distance to the Arrival and Departures board. A luggage carrousel was assigned to Ukrainian flight, Condor DE5094 and a second, stacked flight out of Toronto’s Pearson International.

  Comfortably seated next to the arrival’s door, Jamee passed the time answering emails, mostly business, plus one from Abi. A glance at the electronic board showed the flight coming from Ukraine to Calgary via Toronto looked to be a bit late. Family and friends waiting for news of the arrival had started to gather. It was a comfortable enough place to linger and presented a great people watching opportunity.

  The cadence of a smattering of Ukrainian words reached Jamee from the waiting crowd. She imagined herself in their place. Would she have what it took to succeed in a culture so different from her own? Jamee pondered the question of her resilience, grateful she didn’t have to test it.

  Iconic images of the Canadian west displayed throughout the terminal represented both the indigenous people and the first settlers. One of Jamee’s favourites was a striking statue of four wild horses. They reared and plunged in pewter coloured metal, hooves striking the air, manes and tails flying. Nearby, painted across the arch of a doorway, neon ponies ridden by First Nations warriors in war bonnets and cowboys with twirling lariats pranced through an iridescent blue river.

  Without warning, the dormant luggage carrousel abruptly came to life. The lumbering mechanical clamor and yellow strobe light beacon alerted the bystanders the long-anticipated flights had landed. An elevated chute disgorged contents unloaded from the belly of the plane. Bright and dull coloured baggage tumbled over itself and onto the moving platform. Without preamble, the rumble of the automatic door opening its maw tugged Jamee’s attention from the clutter of luggage. Long-awaited flyers surged into view welcomed by a burst of multi-lingual greetings.

  Now came the hard part. How to pick the care giver out from the crowd? On cue, makeshift signs clutched in eager hands rose like a beacon. Jamee opened the file Abi had provided and wished she’d thought to bring a sign with the woman’s name on it. Jamee studied the enclosed picture. Odessa Nadiya Koval was a woman in her late thirties with mousy brown hair arrowed straight back in a severe mannish style. Her high cheek bones and triangular shaped face sported a prominent nose. The sharp, tapered chin and saggy jaw line showed signs of a jowly future. Short-lashed and narrowly spaced deep-set eyes, peered out from below heavy brows. The picture was in odd contrast to the communications from the lady herself. Odessa’s letters were well written and humorous, the flow lilting and descriptive. From her voice on the phone, Jamee pictured Odessa as a much younger woman, no more than mid-twenties at the oldest. But despite her youth, Abi had been very impressed by Odessa’s résumé and their phone conversations.

  Movement of the crowd toward the carrousel pulled Jamee away from her thoughts. She chose a spot against a nearby pillar. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed she’d been joined by a man with the same intention. He studied each female passenger intensely then passed them over as they were either greeted by others or rushed forward on their way to retrieve their baggage.

  Eventually, there was a lengthy break in the departing, and with no new faces to study, Jamee was at a bit of a loss. Had everyone deplaned? Could she possibly have missed seeing Odessa? A slight movement caught her eye and she turned to the older man on the other side of the pillar. He scrutinized the picture in his hand.

  “Didn’t see her?” Jamee enquired in a helpful voice. He peered at her with a “mind your own business kind of look”, so she tried out a friendly smile to see if that might change his mind. She was rewarded as his surly look moved to hopeful and he turned the picture towards her.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t see her yet. Any chance you might have recognized her coming through? I sure hope she didn’t miss the flight
.”

  Jamee leaned in to take a better look. The woman in the picture was young, mid-twenties to his mid-plus sixties. A daughter perhaps? She was fairly attractive with a wide-eyed look that seemed appealing in an “I’m a little helpless” kind of way. It made her think of puppies and kitties.

  “I don’t think I saw her. Your daughter?” she asked, putting as much politeness in her voice as possible, a little afraid of the answer. She held out her hand for a closer look and he offered her the picture to study.

  “No, my wife,” he replied. “She was going to come as my live-in companion, but Sofiya’s the marrying kind of gal. I’ve waited two years for her to be allowed entry to Canada. It’s just insane. Immigration claimed it wasn’t a bona fide marriage. What do they know,” his voice rose with indignation, “do they need a camera in the bedroom?”

  Jamee tried to hide her revulsion. The guy was old enough to be the woman’s father, for heaven’s sake, she’d hoped she was a relative or friend of his daughter’s. At the same time, a sense of foreboding had warned her to expect the answer he’d given. He peered at her over his glasses. “I know her in the biblical sense. If you get my drift.” He raised one eyebrow. “Of course, it’s a real marriage,” He seemed to be speaking to some imaginary audience.

  Jamee swallowed and looked away from the intense gaze while she struggled for something polite to say. “I’m sure Immigration needs to be very careful in their decisions, the whole world looks on,” she said deliberately. “But I can understand how frustrating it must have been to both of you.”

  Losing some of the antagonism he sighed and glanced at the picture in her hand.

  “Who are you waiting for?”

  “My sister’s caregiver,” Jamee replied a bit warily. Some people had problems with the hiring of foreign workers, though she doubted it would be this guy.

  The Arrivals door opened once more, saving Jamee from further conversation. The woman he’d been waiting for stepped out.

  “Sofiya, Sofiya,” he called out and hurried towards her, arms outstretched. “I thought something had gone wrong. You worried me,” he admonished. “It doesn’t matter, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

  In the unbecoming glare of the florescent lighting his Sofiya looked worn and travel weary. The nineteen-hour flight out from Kiev was unflatteringly etched on her face. Jamee suspected the heavy makeup was an attempt to look older. It also helped to explain her conservative attire. Jamee looked her over skeptically. Is she even eighteen? Birth certificates could be forged, especially foreign ones.

  The older man pulled his mail-order wife into a tight embrace and planted a clumsy kiss on her mouth. The woman looked over his shoulder right at Jamee. Sofiya quickly averted her gaze but not before Jamee recognized the revulsion she struggled to hide.

  Why would a young woman like that want to be tied to a man who was nearly seventy? Jamee suppressed a shiver of distaste. How desperate did a person have to be, to peddle her body in the hope of a better life. It was tough for those that came and for those they’d left behind.

  Steering her towards Jamee, the man brought his new wife over.

  “Sofiya, have a look at this picture. Do you remember seeing this woman on your flight? This is her employer and she’s worried that she missed meeting her.”

  The young wife carefully studied the photo Jamee held out. A flash of something Jamee couldn’t quite identify crossed her face. Fear, recognition, near panic? Jamee wasn’t sure, and perhaps the woman was just nervous and tired.

  “I am sorry, husband.” She bit her lip. “I do not remember her.” Sofiya’s reply was carefully polite. She avoided looking at Jamee and her voice was shallow with an underlying tremour. The woman was obviously uncomfortable with the question. Odd.

  With a nod to Jamee the couple turned toward the luggage carrousel, his grasp still firm on the young woman’s arm. “Good luck,” Jamee called after them. Her sentiment aimed more at the woman than the man clutching her arm.

  The planes seemed to be out of passengers and the grinding luggage carousel was now deserted and empty of bags. As though to make that point it lurched to a complete stop and the little amber light winked out.

  Odessa hadn’t shown.

  Chapter Two

  Jamee needed to think about her next move and wondered what the chances were she could speak with someone from the Canada Border Services Agency — CBSA. Probably slight. She had her doubts about how much help she would get from that department — arrogance and platitudes and little else, she suspected.

  The immediate difficulty was that the central office was not available to the public until morning. Contact info said it was open to public enquiries for five hours starting at eight a.m., although that was seven days a week. Jamee had to admit one missed flight did not an emergency make.

  For the moment Canadian Air Transport Security Authority — CATSA — might be a better bet. Perhaps they could be persuaded that a little help was required, more user-friendly so to speak.

  Jamee, in her role as a multi-career specialist, fancy title for — lots of jobs — lots of experience, was currently working freelance as an Analyst and Solution Operations expert. Through government contract work she’d become aware CATSA operated screening services to private security companies as well as government. Maybe they would have some insights or suggestions.

  Jamee checked her watch. It was late, more morning than night now, but she hated to leave until she made sure she had explored all the options. She wouldn’t want some kind of mishap on her conscious such as a tragic ending to a missed pick up.

  Using directional signage, Jamee made her way to Security on the off chance they could determine where Odessa Koval actually entered the country. Maybe she’d missed recognizing her, or maybe the woman came in on an earlier flight. She should have held up a sign to make sure all the bases were covered but that sign thing made her feel foolish. Hindsight was 20-20 — foolish — would have been better than panicked.

  The airport was quiet now. Few flights arrived during the graveyard shift. Only a skeleton staff remained and the result, after the earlier pace of hurry up activity, was eerie.

  Jamee’s scouting brought her to Security Screening Point One where two uniformed officers, a man and a woman, lounged behind the desk of a utilitarian styled office space. Lots of white walls and phony wood trim. The taxpayer’s money was not being splurged here, that’s for sure.

  The uniform was semi-formal. Equally the male officer and his female counterpart were wearing white shirts with epaulets. The CATSA logo evident on the shoulder and above the left breast pocket.

  Jamee looked over her two choices. It was difficult to determine who would be more sympathetic to the situation, a woman asked to help out another woman, or a man looking at a pretty face. Supposedly, a Security officer shouldn’t have prejudice one way or another. Jamee decided to take her chances with whoever looked up first.

  Pulling out Odessa’s file to review the details from the live-in caregiver’s application, she stepped up to the desk. “Hi, sorry to bother you, but I’m hoping you can help me locate someone”. They both looked up, giving her the once over.

  “What you got there?” the male officer enquired.

  “I’m looking for a female passenger, Ms. Odessa Koval. This is her information. She was supposed to be on the Condor DE5094 from Toronto to Calgary, originating in Kiev, Ukraine. The flight was scheduled to land at twenty-three fifty-one in Calgary but was about forty minutes late.” His expression indicated that, so far, he didn’t understand the problem. She prepared to elaborate.

  “I was at Arrivals and the designated luggage carrousel when the passengers started coming through. All passengers have disembarked, including the crew. I hung around for a while until the luggage was all claimed, but I couldn’t find her.

  “It’s quiet there now, not a creature stirring, it would seem. I was hoping you might be able to confirm if she was on the flight or not.” Jamee set
the file on the counter and flipped open the cover. The top sheet was a copy of the confirmation of Odessa’s ticket and itinerary.

  Officer Helpful, scanned through the information, picked up the sheet and shifted over to the nearby computer. He gave the mouse a wake up wiggle.

  “What’s your connection to the passenger?” he enquired, his tone polite, his eyes on the screen.

  “Odessa Koval is arriving to take a position as live-in caregiver to my sister and her children.” Jamee kept her voice level and light. “I received a call from Odessa yesterday and confirmed the flight plans. That was the last I heard from her, but tonight she didn’t show. I don’t think I missed her.”

  Moving over to study the paperwork the woman officer suddenly decided to take an interest. “You need to check with CBSA, not here.” She put some emphasis on the negative. “They’re the ones responsible for Temporary Foreign Workers,” her tone was a disdainful dismissal. She gave her colleague a pointed look that said he shouldn’t be bothering with her. He shrugged his shoulders, but he handed the page back to Jamee with an apologetic murmur. She took it easily and flashed him another quick smile that said no injury, no foul.

  In a move that surprised them both, the woman reached forward and pushed the file towards Jamee. The decisive manner said the discussion was over. Jamee looked at her directly, her expression calm and still.

  “I thought probably, there’d be little that could be done tonight,” she paused, “but I didn’t want to simply leave and end up with some kind of security incident.” Jamee, found herself trying hard to offer up Rule Number One as she looked at the woman. Show a nice plain side so people don’t get annoyed She’d try once more.