Coupal - Blindshot

BLINDSHOT

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BLINDSHOT

A THRILLER

DENIS COUPAL

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Copyright 2019, Denis Coupal

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, for any reason or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher.

The following is a work of fiction. Many of the locations are real, although not necessarily as portrayed, but all characters and events are fictional and any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover design: Debbie Geltner
Book design: Tika eBooks
Printed and bound in Canada.

Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Coupal, Denis, author
Blindshot : a thriller / Denis Coupal.

Issued in print and electronic formats.
ISBN 978-1-77390-016-2 (softcover) ISBN 978-1-77390-017-9 (HTML).-
ISBN 978-1-77390-018-6 (Kindle).--ISBN 978-1-77390-019-3 (PDF)

I. Title.

PS8605.O8964B55 2019 C813.6 C2018-905132-9
C2018-905133-7

The publisher gratefully acknowledges the support of the Government of Canada through the Canada Council for the Arts, the Canada Book Fund, and Livres Canada Books.

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Linda Leith Publishing
Montreal
www.lindaleith.com

To be truthfulfew can do it! And those who can, will not!

Least of all, however, can the good be truthful.

Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

The greater part of what my neighbours call good I believe in my soul to be bad,

and if I repent of anything,
it is very likely to be my good behaviour.

Henry David Thoreau, Walden

List, list, O, list!

If thou didst ever thy dear father love

Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder.

William Shakespeare, Hamlet

PROLOGUE

BLOOD

The night air was fresh, filled with the rich scents of the forest that wrapped the Carignan family property, Valhalla, in the Eastern Townships of Quebec.

Paul Carignan, family man, father of two, successful corporate financier, walked to the woodpile near the west wall of his cherished Valhalla, went down on one knee and sorted through logs to find just the right ones for this evenings fire.

A rifle shot sounded from far off in the woods. A flock of crows scattered up and away.

Pauls vision blurred. He tried to shake it off, dropping the logs. The biggest one fell hard on his ankle but a sudden sensation in his abdomen preoccupied him more, burning to his lower back, intensifying. He lost his breath as he looked down at himself. He slid his hands into his clothes to his mid-section, pain spreading, throbbing through his veins like a freight train. He felt the warm wetness creeping to his legs, confirming the incredible.

He had been shot.

He fell over. With a gasp, he could feel his spirit struggling to leave him, wanting to fly up, chase the frightened crows and disappear beyond the valley and over the dark woods.

The wound burned like nothing ever had.

Thoughts assailed him. What if he were to die right now, on this evening, by this bullet? What would his boys, Jack and Noah, do? They were still so young, with much to learn. What would Catherine do? She was barely getting through their pending divorce. Deep down, he still loved her. They had lost their way, their passion fading, as with so many couples they knew who had children and demanding careers. He had sought passion from another woman and had surprised even himself with his unfaithfulness. He would never have the chance to redeem himself now, not to Catherine, not to himself. All seemed to be over, here and now, by this bullet that had pierced him in the dark.

Maybe he was getting what he deserved? But who had shot him? Why? The possibilities swirled in his panicked, weakening mind. He had been a tough business adversary to many over the years. His penchant for taking over flailing manufacturing companies, restructuring and reselling them, or sometimes liquidating their parts, had pushed many good people aside, destroyed careers of veteran entrepreneurs, broken partnerships, and set industry veterans adrift. He had taken no prisoners. That was just his way and he had made it work for his benefit. It was easy for Paul to imagine a great number of enemies who might want him gone.

Blood poured from his gut.

Catherine! he shouted, but it came out a whisper. She was nowhere near, and no matter how much he yearned for her to be right there, ready to help, from however deep in him this came, it wouldnt matter. Catherine wasnt there, and she would never know how often he thought of her. She would never know and might scarcely believe that he had always thought of her and not his girlfriend, Anne, as his soulmate. Anne was young and striking, but hadnt Catherine been his muse, his guide, with him through the lean years and the greater part of his life? Together, Paul and Catherine had overcome myriad obstacles and produced, in their view, two of the greatest people on the planet. Jack and Noah were amazing boys. He wondered now, as he bled, if he had done all he could for them. Had he even told them often enough how much he cared? His mind raced to remember precisely, but his energy dropped.

Paul tried to rise, but instead spun weakly sideways and crashed into the grassy slope, sliding downward. Once still, he couldnt stop his eyes from closing. He reached out, or at least tried to tell his arm to reach out, for anything, for anyone, for the darkness above to lower and provide a soft blanket to comfort him, to warm him. He was so cold.

Footsteps. He heard something like footsteps. He wasnt sure. Was it only the mad beating of his heart? His imagination was on overdrive. Was someone coming to save him? Or was it his killer, closing in to finish him off, getting closer and closer?

Silence. Nothing stirred. Paul heard only his own wheezing. Had his killer turned away, convinced Paul was taken care of, bleeding to his inevitable death?

Or was his killer standing over him, quietly watching?

Was this all there would ever be?

Pauls world went dark.

Jack, the older boy, came out of the dark woods like a firefly, agile and fast, lighting his way with his flashlight. He snapped it shut when close to the Carignan house, which was illuminated by a series of programmable floodlights. He moved to the back door, usually left unlocked for him and his younger brother, but halted when he saw Noah walking around to the other side of the building.

Dad? called Noah.

Noah? Jack called back, giving chase.

He caught up to him around the other side of the enormous glass faade, which glimmered with the reflection of stars from the night sky.

What are you doing out here?

I cant find dad! Hes not anywhere!

Are you sure? Jack read Noahs concern. Well, hes somewhere!

I looked everywhere inside. Hes not at the car, not at the shed, not at the clearing! I walked over to check!

Okay, calm down, Noah. How long have you been out here?

Crap, I dont know. I looked all over the house, so maybe twenty minutes? I dont get where he could be?

He must be taking a walk on Van Kleet road! Relax. Lets just wait.

Somethings not right.

Jack trusted his brothers instincts. As much as he loved to tease Noah, like any older brother, there was an old and wise soul in Noah that Jack deeply respected. He knew when to listen to him.

Ill go around this way, you go that way. Well meet up on the other side, okay?

Noah nodded. Like in Expedition X, level nine!

Right. And take this.

Jack tossed Noah his flashlight. Noah caught it and took off, snapping it on as he moved. Jack watched him go, took a quick look around, saw nothing out of the ordinary, and took off in the opposite direction, parallel to the long glass wall.