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training room. The cement floor was covered with dirt and leaves that had blown in beneath the door. They groped their way to the inner door, still propped open by Wood’s knapsack. Before entering the training room with his accomplices, Wood took the small silver handgun out of the pouch around his waist. Muise pulled a rubber Hallowe’en mask over his head and took two knives from a sheath on his ankle. The mask was in the likeness of a ghoulish, white-haired old man with horribly distorted features. Freeman MacNeil held a shovel handle, in case he had to knock anyone out, and there were ropes in his pockets to tie them up afterwards. All three wore dark clothing. They crept into the crew room, allowing the door to swing shut behind them but failing to notice that the door did not close fully. Instead, it came to rest again on the beige knapsack Wood had placed in the threshold. The pack had a label sewn into its seam: ESCAPE .
    Donna and Arlene were on their way out when they stopped suddenly at the sight of the three men creeping towards them. The men, too, came to a standstill as they realized they were not alone. Donna’s heart pounded when she saw the Hallowe’en mask; she was prepared to open and empty the safe if they asked. Long ago, she had promised her mother that if anyone tried to rob the restaurant while she was on shift, she would gladly cooperate in order to avoid any trouble. She used to joke that she’d even carry the safe out to the car for them. Donna knew that resisting a robber could cause problems, not only for her, but also for Arlene and Neil, and as the manager, she felt responsible. But her fear turned to confusion when she recognized the small, sullen-faced blond man. Derek Wood was making no attempt to hide himself; he just stood there, looking first at her and then at the two men he was with.
    Arlene, like Donna, quickly ruled out robbery when she realized the man was Derek Wood. As for the idiot in the Hallowe’en mask, he was obviously someone who thought scaring people was a funny thing to do. Arlene was angry at having been frightened, but she didn’t want to show these three jerks that they’d succeeded in making her heart pop out of her chest. Donna would have to do something, she thought; the restaurant was closed, and Derek had no right bringing people inside, joke or no joke. She decided to lighten the moment.
    â€œIs this a joke or What?” And she laughed.
    It was the last time Arlene MacNeil’s agile young mind would so quickly assess a situation and draw a reasonable conclusion—a conclusion that in this case could not have been further from the terrifying reality of what was about to happen. This was no joke.
    â€œWhat’s going on?” Donna demanded.
    Derek Wood exchanged a long look with his partners. During the countless hours of discussing their options, a certain amount of macho bravado had emerged: Darren Muise claimed he would use his share of the haul to fly to Vancouver, where he had lined up a job running drugs for the Hell’s Angels motorcycle gang; Freeman MacNeil showed his seriousness about the plan by obtaining the gun. Although their talk may have been nothing more than bravado—three young men trying to outdo each other as they dug themselves deeper and deeper into a plot they were, in fact, ill-equipped to carry out—at the moment when Derek Wood looked at his partners, he decided he was involved in a big-time score with big-time criminals. And he would not be the weak link.

    Donna and Arlene came through the open door to face the killers. The colourful sticks Arlene had been counting were still in her hand when she fell, face forward. [RCMP crime scene photo.]
    As his partners looked down, Wood turned to the young women and raised his arm. Arlene saw the arm come up and saw the bright flash, but she did not feel or hear anything. She knew Donna was still beside her; she could see her friend’s