The black Dodge Ram literally rammed its way through the rolling door of the warehouse. It sustained significant damage to its front bumper and hood, but the aluminum door was no match for the weight and momentum of the large pickup truck. The slats flew apart and into the air as if they were popsicle sticks.

The driver of the truck wasn't even injured from the crash, cocooned as he was in the marshmallow world of the airbags.

Sunny and the three cops weren't injured either, because they were behind the tailgate, running after the truck as it crashed through the door, and immediately crouched low and spread out around the truck, guns raised, looking for any threat.

Sunny's role was to look for Birinder, and he stayed low while he followed behind Tracey and Goncalves, as they'd prearranged with Naira, since he had no gun and needed more protection.

It was dark. The warehouse was large, its open interior too spacious to be lit fully by the work lamps, which acted like a beacon to the activity being performed there. It was tempting to focus on the beacon, but that was dangerous because he didn't know what lurked beyond its boundaries. The only noise, other than that of the idling truck, was the low drone of the generator powering the work lamps.

The three cops, no fools, immediately opened the doors of the truck and took cover behind them, motioning Sunny back inside, in the back seat. By this time, the airbags had deflated, and Joe tried to stay as low as he could behind the windshield with his bulk.

Their caution was unnecessary, at least at the moment. No shots rang out. It was quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Where was everybody? The only evidence anyone had been here were those work lamps over on their right.

"They could be bluffing," Tracey said sotto voce, as if he'd read Sunny's mind. "They might be taking cover in the dark somewhere, checking how many we are before they decide to either run or shoot."

"We need more light," Naira said.

"If we use flashlights, they'll be like a bullseye in this darkness," Goncalves said.

"I'll use the truck headlights and coast over to the work lamps," Joe said. "Birinder has to be over there."

"Good idea," Tracey said. "We'll stay behind the open doors and cover you."

They made an odd procession, each of them crouched behind a truck door, shuffling awkwardly forward on the poured concrete floor. Joe was smart enough to turn off the dome light that turned on automatically with the open door, so they didn't make themselves visible to any potential assailants; as it was, the headlights made them a good enough target.

"Okay, I think that's far enough!" Naira nee Bains called out, just as they made out her form in the light of the work lamps. "Any further and Birinder drops from a high height. You can't see him because he's hanging above me; we had him tethered to a cable while we were working on him." She pointed at something in her hand. "I press this button, the tether releases."

"Naira Sandhu?" Tracey called out. "I'm Detective Ian Tracey with the New Westminster Police Major Crimes Unit."

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you talking to me?" she called out. "There are too many Nairas here, I didn't want you to get confused."

"Fuck off, Naira, or whatever your real name is!" Naira shouted back. "I'm getting really tired of you! Where are your pals? Did they abandon you?"

"They have their guns trained on you right now, bitch!"

"They shoot at me, I'm putting one right in your centre of gravity, button or no button!"

"Not helpful, buddy," Goncalves hissed at her.

"Naira Sandhu, I'm here to arrest you as a suspect in the murder of one Jordan Trevelyan," Tracey continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Since he was found to have electrical burns on his body and injuries consistent with a fall, we have reason to believe you did that to him here, and that you're planning to do the same to your husband."

Naira nee Bains was silent for a moment. Then she said, "I wasn't actually there when they did it. All I did was bring him to that bitch's house! They did the rest!"

"Who do you mean by they, Mrs. Sandhu?" Goncalves called out. "I don't see anyone here but you!"

"Don't call me Mrs. Sandhu!" Naira nee Bains said. "That's Birinder's mother!"

"They haven't said a word since we came in here!" Naira said. "I have a feeling, now that other police are here, they might be changing their minds about this whole business and letting discretion be the better part of valour. They could have killed me when it was just me, and even me with a couple of civilians who were too smart for their own good, but not police from another jurisdiction. That's just a bridge too far, I think!"

"I wouldn't be too confident about that! If you live, they still go down for the other stuff."

"Really? I might be able to point to a couple of people I reported to who wanted to use my technology, and neither of them are in this warehouse, I bet! And whoever's here is probably wearing balaclavas so Birinder won't be able to identify them either! It would be really easy for them to slip out a back door and tear out of here before more police come and sweep the place! The only person we can identify for this crime is you, so far, and I think you were too stupid to figure out they were intending on leaving you out to dry all along!"

"Say that again! I dare you! I fucking dare you!" Naira nee Bains shouted, shaking the controller in her hand, making the threat clear.

The situation was perilously close to becoming a debacle. If just one person started shooting, or if Naira pressed that button, people would start dying, most likely the ones without Kevlar vests.

Sunny was out of the truck and walking before he knew his brain was sending signals to his feet to move. He left the protection of the truck, raised his hands and took slow steps forward. "Naira," he called, "I'm unarmed, and I'm making my way to you."

"I wouldn't do that if I were you!" Naira called, but her voice sounded uncertain now. "They'll shoot if you come any closer, and I still have the button!"

"If they shoot an unarmed man, and a municipal candidate at that, then they'll have abandoned all pretence that they're law officers and sunk completely into criminality." He said this as he inched forward. "You may have the button, but I don't think you're a killer, Naira. That calls for a special kind of evil, and I know you're basically a good person."

She barked a bitter laugh and said, "I'm sorry, Sunny, but you don't really know that much about me."

"I know you were kind to my son when we were at your place for dinner," he offered. "You expressed interest in his photos of the sand sculpture competition when you didn't have to show him any attention at all; he has a crush on you, by the way. I think he saw in you what I do now: a warm and considerate young woman."

By this time he was close enough to see her, in the harsh light of the work lamps, and he could see she was barely holding it together. Her body quivered with the effort of holding up the controller, and her eyes had dark circles under them. He probably looked just as tired from the long day, but she had the added strain of being in the company of armed men who might not have her best interests at heart, as well as being involved in the torture of her husband; as delighted as she'd sounded in taking retribution, physically hurting someone damaged you irrevocably, maybe not in body but in spirit. He believed what he said, that she was basically a good person driven to fury by the actions of a selfish man, and he hoped he could use that belief to prevent anyone from dying tonight.

"I did like his photos, you know," she said. "I didn't have to pretend interest. Those sculptures were phenomenal."

"They were," Sunny said. "You know, when we were seeing those sculptures, I had no idea that my friends were in the middle of their own crisis of infidelity at the time. It did a number on their marriage, but they didn't resort to violence to solve anything." Sunny hoped Joe didn't mind him using his dirty laundry to try to connect with the woman; at least he didn't use any names. He didn't take the risk of looking back at him, because eye contact with Naira was crucial to keeping everything peaceful, but if he did he would have seen the stunned expressions of his friend and the three police officers, the look of someone stuck on the tracks, watching an approaching train.

 "Look, Naira," he said, "I don't know what you did in your past life; maybe it was something criminal, and when you were arrested you found your way to being connected to these people, maybe to avoid jail time, but I know it probably wasn't what you would have done if you had a choice. I bet they had you doing things that put you in danger, just like now. I bet it was hardly any different than your life before; I don't think you hurt people in your past life, I think you were the one hurt. I bet when you met Birinder you could finally see your way to a normal, contented life, and his betrayal must have hurt you deeply; I can understand if you went to the people who used you and asked them to hurt him back, maybe as a favour, and they granted it because all along they knew you were married to the ex-husband of the woman who was causing them so much trouble."

All this time he was creeping forward, hands high in the air, no threat to anyone. He was well aware he was in the no man's land between the truck and the lit circle in which Naira stood. Every second he spent there, he could have been shot by whoever was lurking in the darkness. And yet, he felt strangely at peace with it. His life was in danger, and he knew very well he could be making Tej a widow and leave Harpreet and Ajit without a father, but this situation called for a peacemaker and, not being a man of violence, he thought he was best suited for the role. Plus, there was something about Naira that made him pity her; angry as she was, he could tell she was hurting, and he felt the need to help her, even if she didn't want his help. All he could count on was the esteem she expressed for him earlier in the night when he phoned her from the Sandhu house.

"My last name really was Bains," Naira said, to his surprise. "I didn't lie about that. I didn't change it later because it's common enough in our culture, as you know."

"May I know your given name?" Sunny asked. "Only if you want to tell me, though."

"It's Jasminder," she said. 

"Ah, meaning 'Lord's glory,'" he said, nodding. "Beautiful name."

"I went by Jas when I was a kid."

"Of course you did. Easy for white kids to say, am I right?"

She shrugged. "I liked it too. When I was an escort, I went by Jasmine; yeah, I know, not very creative, but the Johns loved it; they got the whole exotic, Kama Sutra vibe, you know?"

"I get it," Sunny said, thinking about how Birinder preferred his ex-wife in the sex department; either Jasminder (the name suited her better than Naira) hadn't been a very talented escort, or she'd decided when she met Birinder that she didn't need to put in the same effort, that sex wasn't a transaction anymore but just one building block in a relationship. "I could tell from our recent phone conversation that your faith means a lot to you, your identity as a Sikh. I imagine you didn't choose your profession as an escort."

"Yeah, well," Jasminder said, shrugging. "It certainly wasn't my parents' choice. After I became a drug dealer's girlfriend in Surrey, drawn in by the glamour of fast cars and Hermes bags, they disowned me, and honestly I can't blame them, so when my boyfriend was killed in a gang war, I had no supports to draw on, and eventually I found myself living in Vancouver, selling my body to make ends meet. Your friend, Lauren? Her partner had a sharp eye, recognizing me after so many years, and I panicked, coming here when I should have just gone home, which is right when you called me, oddly enough; I should have just let them do to Birinder what they wanted, and left me out of it."

"I don't think you really want Birinder to die," Sunny said, shaking his head. "I think you came here instead of going home because, subconsciously, you wanted to be with him; as angry as you rightly are, he is still your husband, still a source of stability. He's your home, and his parents are your support, your family after your own parents disowned you."

He was close enough now to see her lip quiver, her eyes become glassy with tears. "I know what you're trying to do," she said. 

"I'm just talking with you," Sunny said.

"You're hoping to get this out of my hand." She gestured to the controller.

"Why don't you lower him to the ground," he said. "He must be struggling up there, is he hanging upside down?"

"Yeah, he is, but here's the problem with that plan: do you see the cable tied around my own foot?"

Sunny looked, and, sure enough, there was something tied around her stockinged foot. "Let me guess," he said. "You're both strapped to a pulley system up there. If we lower him, you go up." Suddenly he was furious, and he yelled into the darkness, "Nice friends you have there! They were making sure all along that you couldn't escape, that you'd be left holding the bag for their crimes!"

Tears were running down her cheeks. "That's why it's over for me," she blubbered. "That's why I it can't go any other way."

"Fuck that," he said. Then he announced, for everyone to hear, "Jasminder, I'm going to get you out of here. My friends and I. Naira, Detectives Tracey and Goncalves. We're going to free you and Birinder from this accursed device, and you're going to turn yourself in and testify against these cowards who see no problem with you paying the price for their misdeeds. You're going to get a lighter sentence because you're going to help expose this conspiracy. You'll be a whistle blower. You'll be... a hero!" 

He said all this while erasing the last distance between them, and when he said the word "hero," some inner voice guiding his actions, maybe Waheguru, the voice of creation itself, told him to dive for cover, and he dove, crashing into Jasminder, just as he felt something slam into his right shoulder, punching him the rest of the way down. The sound of the gunshot quickly followed it, and then the whole warehouse erupted with the sound of gunfire, just as sirens sounded outside the warehouse, and then more voices arrived, shouting commands, and everything was darkness and confusion. 

He rolled with her until the slack on the cord around her leg tightened, and ended up on top of her, covering her, knowing he was shot, only just getting over the shock of it, just feeling the pain in his shoulder, not knowing how bad it was, knowing only that he had to continue protecting her from any further bullets.

"Are you hurt?!" he asked her.

She shook her head, looking shell shocked. "They were shooting at me, weren't they? They were going to kill me, and you took the bullet."

"I don't know about that," he lied. "Maybe they were just tired of hearing me talk."

"No. You were right. They fucked me over. Everybody fucked me over. Everybody but you." Her eyes brimmed with new tears. "You were the only one who actually cared about me this whole time."

"I would have done it for anyone in your position," he said, not knowing if it was true or not.

She shook her head. "You saved me. You're my hero."

"I haven't saved you yet," he said. "We could still die tonight--"

She didn't let him finish. She kissed him, hard, on the mouth. 

He should have pulled away quicker than he did. Maybe it was the stress of the night, maybe it was the thrill of doing something out of his comfort zone, or maybe it was the exhilaration of taking a bullet and not dying, not yet, anyway, that kept him lip-locked, but when she called him a hero, he was suddenly eleven again, watching Luke Skywalker swing across that chasm with Princess Leia, and fantasizing about soap suds running down Rachel's leg, and he allowed himself to just enjoy the moment for what it was, the applause-worthy climax of a good movie, and wait to think about how to confess this to his wife until later.

He only came back to reality when her arms wrapped around his neck, and the hand not holding the controller groped at his shoulder, right where the wound was, and he grunted in pain.

"Oh, sorry, you're hurt," she said, looking at the blood on her hand. "We need to staunch this wound."

To his utter surprise, she tugged at his turban, and the fabric came loose as she unwound it. She balled it and pressed it against the wound. It hurt a little, and the positioning was awkward because he was still atop her, and she wasn't pushing him off, even as the sounds of gunfire dwindled to nothing, even as that wild moment of abandon had passed and he felt properly ashamed of himself for letting it happen.

"Sunny?"

He'd never been more grateful for the timely intervention of Joe. He unlocked from Jasminder's embrace and said, "Are we safe?"

"Yeah, uh, the New West cops came, a few cars full, it seems. They haven't found the others; they might have gotten away just like you said. What you did, Sunny, that was crazy, but I think it helped--"

"Are the others okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, better than you, actually. You were the only one to get hit. My truck's a write off, though; bullet holes all over the place, blown tires, shattered windshield."

"Jesus." The full weight of what he'd done finally settled on his shoulders. "I guess I should be happy I only got hit once."

"Yeah, we should get you to a hospital, buddy. We don't know how bad that wound is, yet."

"We need to get Birinder down," he said, suddenly remembering why he had gone to Jasminder in the first place. "He's attached to her here, they're counterweighted." He gestured to her foot.

"Okay, Sunny. Let's get you off her first, and then see what we can do about getting him down." Thankfully, he didn't mention anything about what he might have seen him doing with her. Already that seemed a long time ago.

Joe took his good arm, and held it while Sunny pulled himself up. "I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair down, buddy," Joe said as he took over staunching the wound from Jasminder. "Not since we reunited, anyway."

"You're getting a rare glimpse of me in the wild, my man," Sunny said as Joe offered a hand to Jasminder, who took it wordlessly and pulled herself up, but not before grabbing the controller and handing it to him. Her earlier mania had dissipated completely, taking her energy with it. She seemed smaller, somehow, than she did a few minutes ago.

Suddenly there appeared to be a lot of cops in Sunny's field of vision. Naira, Tracey, Goncalves, and ten or so uniformed New West Police officers. A sergeant was saying to Tracey, "We put APBs out for them, but we really don't have much to go on, aside from a few glimpses of running men without uniforms on, and one or two speeding cars. I can't believe we were told to ignore that nine-one-one call."

"That's because this goes deeper than a simple hostage situation," Goncalves said, patting Naira on the back. "Naira here is an RCMP officer working for Cybercrimes, and she's going to expose the whole works."

The uniforms looked questioningly at Naira, and Naira said, "It's best you don't know the details. When the shit hits the fan, you want to be far away from the spray."

"Have you called for an ambulance?" Tracey asked. "We have one gunshot wound, it seems, and we don't know how Birinder's doing, we need to get him down and look him over."

"They're on their way," the sergeant said. "Did you say he was counterweighted with this woman here?"

"I'm Naira Sandhu," Jasminder said. "My name was legally changed when I became an informant for the VPD, and then the RCMP. I'm turning myself in, and I'll tell you everything I know to corroborate with Naira Sandhu's statement."

The sergeant looked over at the other Naira and said, "You're both named Naira Sandhu?"

"Try to keep up," Goncalves said. "Let's get Mr. Sandhu down from there. He must be unconscious from the flow of blood to his brain."

It took some trial and error, but they eventually determined the best way of releasing both of them was by using the controller Jasminder had, lowering Birinder all the way, and then lowering Jasminder back to the ground. It wasn't necessarily a counterweight situation, because the pulley was on an electrical gear, powered by the very generator powering the work lamps and whatever instrument they'd used to electrocute Birinder, but she couldn't have done it herself because the controller wouldn't have gone up with her. By then the ambulance had arrived, and Birinder, looking the worse for wear but breathing, was loaded into the back, and because Sunny was ambulatory, they took him as well, since it was only a short ride to Royal Columbian.

"Will you call Tej and let her know where I am?" Sunny asked Joe before he was taken away. "And let her know I'm fine. If she knew I let myself get shot, she'd kill me."

Joe laughed as the doors of the ambulance closed on him.

Thanks for reading this far! Phew! That was quite the stand-off. Now that the main threat is neutralized, we can get back to the other friends and see how they're doing. If you liked what you just read, hit "Vote" to send this title up the ranks. If anything didn't ring true, leave a comment and let me know what you think; I strive for authenticity.

To get back to Lauren, and a revelation she didn't see coming, click on "Continue reading."