He fired off all rounds from the gun, pressed the release button with his right thumb, ejected the magazine, and inserted another one, securing it smoothly with the heel of his left hand before firing more rounds.

“Good.” Turl said then hit the button that retrieved the target, an A B-27 silhouette. A man’s upper torso. Turl assessed the scoring ring. “Nice clustering, Will,” Turl said, noting Fortin’s high score for the speed-loading segment.

“Let’s go to the last one we talked about.” Turl affixed the new, different-sized target, hit the button for the clothesline chain to set it in position at the required distance then instructed him to proceed.

Fortin repeated the shooting action with more targets of various sizes at varying distances until he’d completed the segment.

“So we’re done? How’d I do?”

“You’ve qualified, but they want me to test you on the simulator.”

Fortin froze for a moment.

“The simulator? So soon?”

“Afraid so.”

“But this is unusual. No one told me I’d have to do the simulator. Now?”

“Yes, now, Will. That’s how they want it.”

That’s how they want it? I guess they have every right to push me to the limit to ensure I don’t choke.

Fortin was uneasy.

This would be far more intense than shooting at paper silhouettes that didn’t move. The use-of-force simulator was a computerized laser-shooting, high-tech tool used to sharpen the stressful mental process any cop can face in a heartbeat. It confronted them with realistic shoot-don’t-shoot scenarios, interactive movies with real people, allowing a split second to make a life or death decision. Turl had advised Fortin that in this session, he’d face the most demanding scenarios.

“The worst of the worst that we have.”

Fortin looked at Turl.

“I’ve already faced the worst,” Fortin told him.

Turl led him to the marked position a few feet before the large dropdown screen, handed him the pistol, then left him and took his place at the table behind him to operate the program on a laptop.

“Ready, Will?”

Gooseflesh rose on Fortin’s skin, his scalp prickled and his chest tightened.

Life and death in a heartbeat. I can’t do this. Not again.

But he had to. All in a heartbeat. He steadied himself, slowly raised his gun to the blank screen, and nodded.

“Ready.”

-Chapter 16-

Calgary, Alberta

Fortin took a deep breath and braced himself.

The screen came to life with a full-sized, clear scenario unfolding before him. Deafening music pounded in the hallway of the rundown apartment building. Garbage was strewn on the floor, obscene graffiti violated the dirty walls, screaming along the crack that led to the shouting coming from unit 17B, where Fortin was responding to a call. He was about fifteen yards away when the door burst open, ejecting a woman in her twenties, torn dress, bloodied face, sobbing, running to him.

Fortin’s pulse soared.