chapter one

Ben Anderson paused to savour the sweet smell of alfalfa. He had no idea that his world was about to collide with a very different world. A world that would attack without provocation or warning. A world that for all eternity would feed off his soul like starving rats in a war zone. Ben was a farmer. He didn’t know this other world existed.

He tossed another bale onto the hay elevator and watched as the bale slowly ground its way to the top before tumbling into the loft above.

It was early afternoon and the sun was hot. The morning shower had done little to cool the air. The sun sucked the moisture out of the ground and the added humidity caused his shirt to cling to his back and chest. The smog from Vancouver, over an hour’s drive away, hung in the air. Ben chose not to notice the smog. The smell of cattle and alfalfa was much more rewarding.

He caught a glimpse of Maggie’s freckled face and her red hair done up in pigtails as she scrambled to keep up with the bales falling from the elevator and bouncing down onto the loft floor. For a ten-year-old, she was a hard worker.

At two years younger, her little brother was not a lot of help. But no one ever told Ben Junior that. His hair was blonde and his face was well tanned from working on their family farm. Unlike his sister’s pressed jeans, his were dirty and ragged over one knee.

Ben Junior looked serious as he swung a hay hook into another bale and dragged it with both hands across the wooden floor. The bale slid easily. The floor had become shiny and polished over the years from bales being dragged to the back of the loft.

Wizard drove the new silver Acura down the highway. He had already switched cars three times within the last two hours, but now that The Suit was with him, his paranoia intensified. He slowed down and watched his rear-view mirror. Cars passed him. A good sign.

At a glance, Wizard’s clothes gave him the appearance of a businessman who had taken the day off to go golfing. It was Wizard’s face that gave a clue as to what business he was in. His nose had been broken so often in his younger days that the swelling between his eyes had become permanent. Deep creases in his forehead gave the impression that he was much older than his forty-five years. His salt and pepper hair was trimmed short, and his moustache and greying goatee partially hid a scar that traversed his upper and lower lips.

It had taken him twenty years to become president of Vancouver’s west-side chapter of the Satans Wrath Motorcycle Club. It had been a long road, and he wasn’t finished yet. Satans Wrath had dozens of presidents in charge of chapters in eleven countries. Each country had one national president. Wizard would do whatever it took to replace Damien as the national president for Canada.

Wizard glanced at The Suit’s face. The Suit was about his age, but he was skinny and weak. He hated that he needed him. It was Rolly, another member of the club, who had first told him about The Suit.

Rolly had told Wizard that The Suit was a sick bastard. Someone to be shunned. Wizard was more of a businessman. He saw opportunity. It was his idea to recruit him. Not as a club member, of course, but strictly for business. Only Rolly and Damien knew about The Suit. His identity remained top secret. His real name was never spoken, and personal meetings were handled with extreme care.

Wizard played the game well, and Damien rewarded him by assigning him to oversee their most valued business ventures: drugs and prostitution. Many in the club thought Wizard was a genius when it came to business. Some said he had a psychic ability when it came to beating the competition or the police. It was what eventually earned him his nickname. Wizard wasn’t psychic. He didn’t have to be. He had The Suit.

Ben shut off the machinery and for a moment enjoyed the silence. He put his hands on his hips and slowly arched his back. He was a big man and the work came easy to him, but a heart attack he had suffered two years ago told him not to exert himself.

Maggie’s face immediately appeared up above.

“What’s the matter, Dad?”

“I think it’s time for some lemonade. I’ll come up and see how you two are making out.”

Seconds later, Ben Junior’s face appeared. “Did it break down again?”

“No, Ben Junior, it didn’t break down this time.”

“Are we finished then?” asked Maggie.

“No, not yet.”

“How come you turned it off?”

“Slow down, Ben Junior, I thought we could use a rest is all.”

“Yeah, Doodle looks tired. But not me! I’m used to man’s work.”

Maggie pretended not to care. Doodle wasn’t a nickname that she appreciated, but this time she wasn’t going to give her little brother a reaction.

Ben climbed the ladder into the loft. Without being asked, Maggie poured three glasses of lemonade from a plastic jug.

She gave her father a big smile as she sat down on a bale.

Ben grinned to himself when he saw her concentrating on holding the plastic glass while extending her little finger. That’s my girl, always trying to be a lady. His attention to Maggie didn’t go unnoticed.

Ben Junior retrieved a cardboard cutout that he had made that morning. It was in the shape of a shark and he had used silver foil to give it extra large teeth. Seconds later, the shark attacked the back of his sister’s head in a feeding frenzy.

Maggie swatted at the shark and the silver teeth fell off.

“Daddy! She broke it! I made this for Uncle Jack.” He started to wail.

“He started it! I was just —”

“That’s enough, you two! Keep that up and you’ll both spend your last few days of summer vacation weeding the garden.”

The children knew enough to keep quiet, at least for the moment. Maggie pretended to pick particles of hay from her glass. She then flicked her wet fingers in Ben Junior’s direction. Seconds later, the children made a face at each other, then giggled, forgetting their anger.

Ben Junior gulped down his lemonade and went to swing wildly on a rope hung from a rafter in the loft.

Maggie saw a yellow jacket walking around the rim of Ben Junior’s empty glass. Several other wasps, attracted to the sweet smell of the lemonade, hovered nearby.

She took a small sketchpad and stubby pencil from her hip pocket and drew a caricature of a wasp, sporting a happy face, climbing out of a glass.

Ben leaned over to take a look. “Pretty good, girl,” he said. “I think you’re going to make one heck of an artist some day.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Maggie flashed her newly grown adult teeth, which looked out of proportion in her face.

Ben looked at all the bales that had been dragged to the far end of the loft. The children’s muscles had not developed enough to stack them properly.

“Okay, I think you kids have earned your keep for today. Check with Mom first. I think she’s in the garden. If she doesn’t need you then you can go and play.”

“Whoopee!” Ben Junior yelled. “Come on, Doodle, let’s go!” he said, leaping from the rope and crashing in amongst some bales. Both children scrambled to be first to reach the ladder.

Moments later, Ben Junior raced down the gravel driveway on his bicycle. Muddy water sprayed out from the puddles in some of the deeper potholes. Ben Junior lifted his feet high off the pedals, but not high enough to avoid getting splashed by the mud. Maggie followed behind but kept her distance.

Elizabeth, watching from the garden, shook her head.

“You two be back in time for supper!” she shouted. Then as an afterthought she added, “Maggie! If you want to pick some berries, I’ll make your favourite pie for dessert!”

Wizard checked his rear-view mirror as he turned off onto a gravel road. He held his breath and let it out when he saw that the Acura was the only car on the road.

“Where the fuck are you taking me?” The Suit asked.

His German shepherd stuck its nose out of the back seat and licked his ear. He yanked the choke chain around the dog’s neck, jerking it back.

“Just a small detail to talk about with Rolly. Will only take a couple of minutes. I’ll get you to the motel on time.”

The Suit didn’t respond. Wizard’s business could not be discussed in phone calls. He took a gold cigar case out of his Armani suit and opened it.

A ring-necked pheasant flew up from the side of the road as the car swept by. The German shepherd lunged at the side window. Flashing fangs exploded with saliva as the beast turned its attention to the rear window.

Maggie hung on to her plastic pail of blackberries as she followed Ben Junior around to the front of the abandoned farmhouse. Her skinny, freckled arms hung from her T-shirt and bore scratches from the sharp thorns of the nearby blackberry bushes. Ben Junior’s mouth and cheeks bore deep purple traces from the juicy berries he’d already eaten.

The front door of the house, leading into the kitchen, had been kicked open. By the way the big splinters of wood hung from the lock, Maggie figured it had to have been done by a grown-up. Most of the windows were broken, and the kitchen cupboards were only a shell. The grey linoleum was buckled and cracked. It made her think of a giant web.

“Next time, I’m gonna bring my stuff and draw a picture of a big spider on this floor.”

“Why?” replied Ben Junior. “I’m sure there’s real ones in here.”

A pigeon burst from the top of a cupboard and flapped across the kitchen.

Ben Junior instinctively grabbed Maggie’s arm but let go as the pigeon escaped through a broken windowpane.

“Scared you, Doodle?” said Ben Junior.

“It scared you too! And if you don’t stop calling me Doodle, I’ll tell Mom you stole money from her purse.”

“It was only a quarter,” he said.

“You still stole.”

“I just borrowed it. I’m going to put it back.”

“Doesn’t matter. You never asked, so that means you stole. I should tell Uncle Jack.”

Ben Junior paused, then changed the topic. “Come on, let’s play grown-ups!”

They entered a room off the kitchen that had once been the main bedroom. Part of a broken mirror hung from the back of the door. Maggie placed her bucket on the floor. She found a rag to rub a circle of grime off the mirror and pretended to put on lipstick.

She did not see the freckle-faced kid with pigtails in the reflection. Instead, it was a pretty lady. Like the cover girls who advertise makeup. Except I’m not going to be a cover girl. I’ll be an artist. A really famous artist…

Ben Junior nudged in front of her. “I have to shave,” he said, sounding gruff.

“Well then hurry. You have to drive over and pick up the baby…”

A car’s arrival interrupted their game. They knew the old farmhouse was off limits. Maggie looked at Ben Junior and put her finger to her lips. Outside, a big dog barked.

Maggie peeked through the crack in the bedroom door. She saw two men walk into the kitchen. One carried a blue sports bag. He had a grey goatee on his chin. He also had a tattoo that looked like a couple of words over a picture on his arm.

The other man was dressed in a suit. He was slim, clean-shaven, and had dark, wavy hair neatly trimmed at the top of his collar.

Wizard tossed the sports bag on the kitchen counter, where it landed with a thud.

“I don’t have all fucking day. Where is he?” asked The Suit.

Maggie heard another car arrive.

“He’s here now,” said Wizard, peering out the window.

Maggie looked at her brother. His sparkling blue eyes stared back. He had a devilish grin on his face and tried to push her aside to peek out the door. She grabbed him by the shoulder. He caught the fear in her face and became more sober, stepping back from the door.

Maggie saw the other man walk into the kitchen. He wore a black leather vest and a black T-shirt that partially covered a round and hairy belly. A hunting knife hung from a scabbard on his belt. The end of the handle had a skull on it with ruby red eyes. His balding head and hairless, pie-shaped face and chubby chin reminded Maggie of a plate she had in her dollhouse. The plate had a man-in-the-moon face on it.

“Any trouble finding the place?” Rolly asked.

“Your directions were good,” said Wizard.

“So what do ya think?” asked Rolly. “Good place to rent for a grow op.”

“Later. What about today’s business? Ya get it all?”

“Fifty keys of quick, dead on. Got the French bitch laid down at the Black Water for tonight. She’ll be back on the train tomorrow. That the bread?”

“It ain’t my fuckin’ lunch.”

Maggie saw Rolly unzip the blue bag. She could see the crack at the top of his flat bum. He took out a couple of bundles of money, then crammed them back inside. He reached inside his vest pocket and took out a small plastic baggie of brownish powder. He held it out toward Wizard and said, “I brought it if you want to see it.”

The Suit yelled “You fucking idiot!” while slapping Rolly’s hand. The baggie flew out of his hand and spilled on the counter. “I told you never to bring that crap around me!”

“Relax,” said Wizard. “It’s only a sample.”

“Not this! What about the fifty kilos?”

“You think I’d be drivin’ around with that!” said Rolly indignantly. “It’s already stashed.”

Wizard picked up the baggie. Sunshine illuminated his arm and Maggie saw the tattoo. The words Dirty Dog were emblazoned over the head of a dog.

These are bad men, thought Maggie. Uncle Jack will know what to do with them! She took out her sketchpad and heard Wizard say, “Make sure the French bitch is on the train tomorrow. Don’t want any complaints from back east.”

Maggie wrote the word Dirty and heard the whine of a dog. She peeked through the crack of the door and saw a German shepherd pad into the kitchen. It sniffed the floor, slowly moving toward her. Its claws made a light clicking sound on the linoleum, zigzagging closer.

Maggie gently closed the door. It creaked slightly.

The men quit talking. Did they hear me? What if they find us? I bet they’d be mad! She looked at the broken windowpane in the bedroom and then at her brother. No way to escape.

Wizard reached into the sports bag, wrapping his hand around the shortened stock of a sawed-off shotgun.

“A hell of a hot day, isn’t it?” Maggie heard Rolly say. She could hear the dog panting.

“Yeah, you can really feel the heat,” replied Wizard.

Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. Good. Everything is okay.

The dog whined.

The mirror in front of Maggie’s face exploded into a multitude of broken shards that penetrated her face and neck like porcupine quills. The first blast caught her hand and the side of her ribcage, spinning her around and dumping her on the floor like a rag doll.

The deafening roar of three more blasts followed, but all missed their mark. Smoke and dust ebbed through the rays of sunshine. The sulfuric smell of gunpowder filled the air.

Ben Junior, unscathed, stood staring at his sister. He could see her eyes. Open, but without expression. She wasn’t moving. Ben Junior closed his eyes and hunched over.

“Fuck! It’s just kids!” said Wizard.

“Good thing. I thought it was the cops,” Rolly replied. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Not so fast, you morons!” said The Suit.

“Nobody has seen us,” said Wizard. “We’ll just fuck off and —”

“You might take chances; I don’t!”

Wizard shrugged his shoulders indifferently, then passed the shotgun to Rolly.

Rolly rested the muzzle of the shotgun on the bump at the top of the spine near the back of Ben Junior’s head. The little boy shook and squatted in a fetal position, squeezing his eyes tighter. His jeans turned a darker blue.

Rolly hesitated as the wet stain appeared around the little boy’s feet. He lowered the shotgun and looked at Wizard.

“Do it!” The Suit yelled.

“It’s time you earned your tattoo,” said Wizard.

Maggie’s body convulsed and thumped on the floor as she released a gurgling sound from her lungs. She was still alive.

chapter two

Jack Taggart’s apartment was on the eighteenth floor and it provided him with a good, if slightly distant, view of the heart of Vancouver. He gripped the railing on his balcony and stared blankly at the street below. Mozart’s The Marriage of Figaro played through the open door of his balcony. He thought the music would ease his depression. It didn’t.

He had joined the Royal Canadian Mounted Police when he was a fresh-faced kid of twenty-three. Fourteen years had passed, and he had long since lost the innocence of his youth. Six years of working undercover on the Drug Section had been followed by a transfer to the Intelligence Section, where he had spent the last five years working undercover on organized crime.

He was a survivor and was good at what he did. His work had not gone unnoticed by a superior officer. Taggart wasn’t only good at his job — he was too good. Too good to be playing by the book.

Jack exercised to stay fit, but his dark wavy hair was starting to recede, and plucking the occasional grey hair was becoming a daily ritual. Vanity was not something that he admired about himself, but neither was living alone.

He decided to strike at the root of his depression and strode back inside and reached for his stereo. The Marriage of Figaro faded as he dialled his boss.

“Louie, it’s Jack.”

“How did it go last night?”

“Another shipment arrived in a Winnebago at two-thirty this morning. I watched and met my informant after he helped unload. He confirmed that it’s coming from the same guy in El Paso.”

“That’s good. Put it in the report for Interpol.”

“Forget Interpol! I’m going to El Paso myself.”

“No. You’re not,” said Louie firmly. “Wigmore won’t approve it. Child porn is low on the list these days.”

“But my source says they’re linked to snuff films, for God’s sake! That’s murder.”

“I know.”

“Does Wigmore know that the El Paso connection distributes to most of Canada?”

“We’ve been over this. I told him.”

“Damn it, Louie! The guy in El Paso has a family and is a leader in his church! I could turn him in about ten seconds. We’d get his distribution list for Canada, not to mention his connection, who is either producing it or knows who is.”

“As Wigmore pointed out, the victims aren’t Canadian. Pass it over to Interpol.”

“The victims aren’t, but the goddamned perverts are! We’re talking about children being raped and murdered! Who cares what their nationality is?”

“I hear you, but Wigmore wants this handled through channels.”

“That could take forever, plus I promised my source I wouldn’t burn him. This needs to be handled right. The hell with Wigmore. I’ve decided to take leave and pay for it myself.”

“Forget it, Jack! You go flying off to Texas and he’ll have your ass for working in a foreign country without authorization. He’s been looking sideways at you ever since Levasseur’s body turned up last month. I’m sure he figures you were behind it.”

“Levasseur was murdered in Montreal. I haven’t been there in years.”

“I know. You also look better without a beard.” Louie paused a moment, and when Jack didn’t reply, he said, “Wigmore’s not in right now. Let’s meet for coffee tomorrow and talk about it. Maybe I can convince him to cut loose with the funding.”

“Appreciate it. Speaking of funding, when am I getting a new partner? It’s been three months since Paul was transferred.”

“You know Staffing as well as I do. Your guess is as good as mine.”

Jack hung up the phone and stared at the cardboard cutouts of fish dangling in his waterless aquarium. A breeze from his balcony made the fish start to spin. Some were sharks with silver teeth. The rest of the fish were bright, colourful, and looked real.

Great kids. Lucky to have been born in Canada. The telephone rang and he picked it up.

It was his sister. She said someone killed both her babies. Her voice was hollow and detached. Ben had gone to look….

Jack accelerated along the dusty road. Last Sunday he had been with Liz and Ben. They had gone on a picnic with the kids. He had played hide-and-seek with Maggie and Ben Junior. Later, they had roasted hot dogs over an open fire. Ben Junior had dripped mustard down his shirt.

Jack’s car bounced along the gravel driveway leading to the house. He had made the usual one-hour drive to the farm in less than forty minutes. Dust billowed behind, then overtook him as stepped out of the car. A police car, with lights flashing, sat empty outside the house.

Jack sprinted inside.

A uniformed officer appeared in the hall.

“I’m on the job too. This is my sister’s house,” said Jack, reaching for his badge.

“She told me you were coming. They just left. We’ve got a car taking them both to the hospital. She’s really out of it. I think she broke her nose.”

“What happened?”

“She found her kids in an old abandoned farmhouse down the road. She fainted and smacked her face.”

“Are you sure the kids are…?”

“I’m sorry. Both dead. That’s all I know. Homicide should be arriving any minute.”

A police car blocked the driveway leading to the abandoned farmhouse. He saw a uniformed officer talking with two paramedics leaning against an ambulance. Any hope he had was gone.

Moments later, Jack was careful not to disturb any evidence as he walked along the edge of the driveway leading to the house, but the driveway was mostly overgrown with grass and he didn’t see any identifiable tracks. He reached the small clearing where the house was located.

A young uniformed officer walked out from behind a mass of blackberry bushes. His white face and the smell from the bushes explained it all.

“Who are you?” the officer demanded.

Jack flashed his badge.

“Man, you wouldn’t believe it in there! With this heat and the greasy food I had for —”

“I don’t need to hear it.”

A voice behind Jack asked, “What are you doing here? Aren’t you still on Intelligence?”

Jack recognized Connie Crane. She was attached to the Homicide Unit on the General Investigation Section.

“Where is everybody?” he asked.

“On their way. I just got here myself. What are you doing here?”

“The parents … they’re my sister and brother-in-law.”

“Yeah? Oh … Jack, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“You know them well?”

“Very.”

“Any problems?”

“Forget that idea,” replied Jack. “They’re good people. Decent.”

“Just doing my job.”

“Well let’s go in there and do it.”

“You’re not goin’ in there!”

“I’m going in!”

“Like hell you are! You’re not on GIS, let alone Homicide, so get out of here and leave me to do my job.”

“Damn it, CC! These kids are family!”

“Forget it. Don’t blame me. It’s policy.”

They locked eyes and neither spoke.

Jack was the first to break the silence. “Have the bodies been formally identified yet?”

“Maybe they didn’t see the faces, I heard it’s pretty messy in there, but…”

“Policy wouldn’t consider that a proper ID. I can do that now. Or were you looking forward to watching their mom and dad do it?”

CC paused, then let out a sigh. “Okay. You win. ID the bodies and then go. Deal?”

Jack nodded, and CC rummaged inside her briefcase and handed him a pair of protectors to slip over his shoes.

CC gave Jack a hard look and said, “Remember, it’s not your investigation!”

“I hear you.”

CC flicked on a small tape recorder and cautiously entered. Jack stood at the entrance, looking in. He saw a kitchen, with a trail of blood across the floor to an open door on the far side. He resisted the urge to rush in. He watched CC practically hug the wall as she moved through the room, avoiding contact with anything someone else might have touched or walked upon. She talked as she went.

“Blood on the kitchen floor indicates two different sizes of footprints. Appear to be a man and a woman’s. Note, must seize the parents’ footwear.”

CC moved past the kitchen counter and studied the open door leading into the bedroom. “A door leading off the kitchen has numerous chunks and small round holes taken out of it. The pattern is similar to what a shotgun with heavy shot would do. Appears to be multiple blasts, maybe three or four. Entry point is on the kitchen side. No sign of shell casings.”

“CC!”

She clicked the recorder off. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your mouth shut! What is it?”

Jack indicated where some dust had been disturbed on the counter.

“So?” asked CC.

“Something slid across the counter. There are grains of powder in the dust! Brownish-grey. Bet it’s heroin or meth!”

CC bent over for a closer look, then said, “Maybe someone weighing drugs. I’ll have it looked at.” She then turned her recorder on and said, “Now, facing the entrance to the room off the kitchen. Inside is — Christ!”

CC shut off the recorder and stared into the room.

A voice in Jack’s head and an eruption of burning bile up his throat and into his mouth told him to get out of the building. But he didn’t listen. He swallowed, then slowly moved to the doorway and looked in.

Sunshine reflecting off splinters of mirror cast bright, rainbow-coloured images. Vibrations from their feet caused the images to dance and shimmer throughout the room. Shards of light flickered across red and pale-white flesh. It looked mystical. Surreal.

He felt the urge to run. To go back to his apartment and crawl into his closet and hide. Hide from Liz and Ben. Hide from this room. Hide from this world.

He paused in his thoughts and found himself staring at Ben Junior’s little hand. He thought back to a month previous. He had been roughhousing with Ben Junior out on the lawn. Ben Junior had pressed his tiny hand against Jack’s hand and said, “My hand will never be a big as yours, will it, Uncle Jack?” Jack had replied, “Someday. But mine is bigger now!” Then he’d grabbed Ben Junior, who had squealed with delight.

Jack forced himself back to the present. He felt numb as his brain tried to deal with what he saw. Please don’t be sick. Think meat. Maggie and Ben Junior are gone. This is just raw meat. Part of her rib … No! Part of the rib cage blown away … blood splatters … one of her fingers by my feet … but her body is halfway across the room. She was shot while standing behind the door. But her face! … Pieces of skull … she was shot in the face later. Ben Junior … executed from behind. Oh God! I can’t be sick. It’ll ruin evidence…. Maggie and Ben Junior … just meat.

He studied a bloody imprint of someone who had fallen in the bedroom, knocking over a pail of blackberries. A pattern of bloody hand marks with slender fingers extended across the floor from the imprint.

Blood tells a story. It was all too easy for Jack to read. Easy to read; impossible to erase. The tipped pail, the bloody imprint of an adult body with slender hands…

Liz fainted when she saw … and awoke next to the bodies of her children. Red streaks, like small railway tracks, snake their way between red palm prints. Liz was covered in blood. The fingers point into the room. Speckles of blood are partially obliterated by sliding palm prints. She broke her nose when she fainted and was dripping some of her own blood as she got to her knees, before crawling backwards out of the room. The railway streaks from her knees disappear, but red palm prints pepper the floor, along with red scuff marks made by her shoes. She tries to stand … feet slip on the linoleum … falls … gets to her feet.

Jack’s senses become alive. He is conscious that the hot summer sun has turned up the humidity. A musty odour … stifling hot. Rotten wood in the air … my tongue feels thick. Sound of flies. They’re buzzing everywhere. Evil sound.

Tracks from a workboot cover part of Liz’s footprints. Ben’s tracks. First Liz finds the bodies, and then Ben comes to check. Small red globules of blood are embossed between the thick tread marks left by his boots. The boot prints become farther apart. Ben is running, frantic to protect her from what he saw. He is too late. Too late to protect her — or himself.

Long red narrow streaks against the white enamel paint of the doorframe. Liz claws at the doorway as she tries to escape from the house.

A bluebottle fly with a fat hairy body crawled along the sticky blood on the doorjamb.

Jack stepped outside and the fly buzzed around his head, angry at being disturbed. It landed on his lip. He spit and mauled his lips with his fingers. The fly returned to the doorjamb.

I feel like I’ve tasted death. Is that possible? He spit again. The taste remained. It would remain in the fibres of his brain forever.

Jack handed his shoe protectors to CC. Neither spoke while she placed them in a plastic bag and filled out a label.

She looked at Jack. “Formal identification of…?”

“Margaret Anderson and her brother, Ben Anderson Jr. Yes, it’s them.”

CC glanced at her watch and made a notation in her notebook. “How they were shot will be hold-back information.”

Jack nodded silently, then walked back to the main road as an unmarked police car arrived with two more investigators, followed by a van belonging to the dog master. A wild-eyed German shepherd barked furiously from inside the van.

Jack knew that the bodies of Maggie and Ben Junior would haunt him for the rest of his life. It didn’t scare him as much as what he had to do next.

chapter three

Danny O’Reilly looked like he had stepped out of a recruiting poster for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police as he stood outside the main entrance to the hotel in downtown Winnipeg. His red tunic was tailored to fit perfectly, and his deep brown leather riding boots equipped with silver spurs gleamed in the afternoon sun. He was shorter than most police officers, but it wasn’t too noticeable when he wore his riding boots.

Danny was looking forward to his transfer to the West Coast. It was no secret that he hated Public Relations. Today he was to open the door of a limousine when it arrived and salute the prime minister as he stepped out. A mannequin could have performed the same function. Any real threat or danger was to be handled by the plainclothes officers. Not that any serious threats had been identified.

He stared at the media and leaned slightly forward on his toes to relieve the pressure points on his heels, then used his brown leather gloves to dab at the perspiration that escaped from under his stetson.

He caught the hand signal of one of the plainclothes members of the VIP Security Detail. Estimated time of arrival for the prime minister was three minutes. About bloody time. He glanced at his watch. The PM’s flight had been delayed, and it was two hours past the time that he had promised Susan he would be home.

Danny thought back four months to when Tiffany was born. He recently bought Susan a gift certificate for a massage and manicure. As a new mom, she really appreciated the idea. She had booked the appointment for this afternoon. She wouldn’t be happy about missing it.

The spurs on Danny’s boots jingled when he snapped to attention as the lead cars in the procession of limousines arrived in front of the hotel.

Danny was unaware that fate would alter his life within seconds, plunging him into a world of rules he didn’t know existed. A world where the strong murdered the weak. A world where he would have to find out which category he was in.

Jack’s footsteps echoed down an empty, antiseptic-smelling hallway as he walked away from the nursing station. Ben and Liz would want answers. He could tell them why. No doubt a drug deal. Whoever did it likely heard a noise and thought it was a ripoff, or maybe the cops.

Jack vowed that one day he would be able to tell Ben and Liz who did it.

But there was something he was afraid to tell them. If it was a dope deal, more than one person was involved. Defense lawyers would insinuate that the other lawyer’s client did it, making any conviction tenuous. They would argue the murders weren’t preplanned so any conviction would probably be the result of a plea bargain with the condition of an early release.

He wouldn’t tell Ben and Liz that today. Let them go through their disbelief and shock. For them, anger would come later.

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled as he stepped into the room. Promise not to cry. They will need me. Must stay strong.

Ben’s and Liz’s eyes were windows to their terror. Jack saw their pain. Pain that gripped their throats and made talking or breathing difficult. Pain that no words could cure.

Jack broke his promise to stay strong.

It was a day that would be locked forever in their souls.

Damien squinted at one of the closed-circuit television monitors and saw Wizard looking up at the camera from his car.

Damien’s voice was curt and to the point. “I’m out back, at the pool.” He released the electronic gate, then walked outside to turn the heat down on his barbecue.

He looked at Vicki’s bikini-clad body as she tossed a beach ball back to their three children in the pool. Buck was twelve years old and his two sisters, Sarah and Kate, were ten and seven. She still had a fantastic figure. So what’s wrong with me?

Vicki returned his gaze and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close.

“Company?” she asked.

“Business. Won’t take long,” he answered, gently pushing her away.

“What’s the matter, Papa Bear?”

“You know what the matter is.”

“You’re still brooding about last night? Don’t worry. It really doesn’t bother me.”

“It bothers me! How could it not bother you? I’m fifty-two, but you, you’re only thirty-four. You’re in your prime.”

“Hey, you’re still in your prime too. Bet you were just tired. Next time take a Viagra.”

Damien sighed, then said, “I did. It didn’t work.”

Wizard drove up the circular driveway to Damien’s estate and parked in front of the four-car garage. Communication antennas and satellite dishes bristled from the roof of the mansion.

One garage door was open, and Wizard caught a glimpse of a new red Jaguar parked inside. The Satans Wrath’s emblem of a skull with horns grinned from the gas tank of a Harley Davidson motorcycle next to the Jag.

Wizard smirked to himself as he opened the gate to the back of the mansion. Damien didn’t like being bothered at home. What he had to tell him would piss him off even more.

The cobblestone path led to the sound of children’s laughter. He spotted Vicki and felt the blood go to his loins. Yes, Damien has it all. For a moment he allowed himself to fantasize that Damien was dead. Vicki was lonely and horny. She wanted him to…

The barbecue lid closed with a bang. Damien glared at him and abruptly flicked off one burner. He was wearing only trunks. His arms and legs were exceptionally hairy, and his physique caused Wizard to think that he looked like a paunchy old bear. His short hair had noticeably thinned. Does he think he can hold on as national pres? He’s becoming old and weak. The election is only a couple of months away.

They walked along a manicured garden path while Wizard gave his version of what had happened that afternoon.

Dark lines formed in the furrows on Damien’s forehead and shadows appeared under his eyes. His response was venomous. “You whacked two kids!” Spittle from his mouth landed on Wizard’s face.

“Well, actually, Rolly whacked the boy. The Suit told us to do it and —”

“Since when does the fucking Suit give us orders? You were in charge!”

“I was in charge, but —”

“Fucking millions to be made and you pull this stunt!”

“Damien, you weren’t there. We had no choice. They were mouthy little brats. Knew what was goin’ on and threatened to tell the cops. We had to do ’em. Especially seein’ as they saw The Suit. Besides, nobody knows about it or can connect it with us.”

“Why the fuck did you have The Suit with you way out there?”

“He was already up the Valley at a meeting all morning. Rolly was looking for spots for grow operations. It just worked out that way.”

“Next time, he takes his own wheels to the motel! You do the delivery after he’s there.”

Wizard nodded that he understood.

“Where is he now?”

“Gettin’ his treat at a motel. Rolly will clean that up after. I thought I should come and let you know right away.”

“Getting his fucking treat? Killing two kids didn’t bother him?”

“Actually, I think he liked it.”

“Nobody is to know about this!”

“Rolly earned his Dirty Dog. I sanctioned it.”

Damien thought for a moment, then said, “Okay, he gets it, but not a fuckin’ hint to anyone about how he got it!”

Damien monitored Wizard on camera as he left. His instinct told him that Wizard hadn’t been totally honest. He had to trust his instinct. It got him to where he was. People who lie to me are my enemy.

“You little shit!” Buck’s voice drifted in through the open patio door.

“Buck! Don’t speak that way to your sister!”

“Sorry, Dad.”

“Don’t ‘sorry’ me. Apologize to her.”

“Danny!” said Susan, flicking the brim of his stetson with her finger.

Danny remained at attention but saw Susan as she held Tiffany, bundled up in a cotton blanket, in her other arm.

“What are you doing here?” asked Danny, as his eyes darted toward the arriving limousines.

Susan ignored the question and thrust Tiffany into his arms. She awakened and started to bawl loudly.

“I can’t —”

“Be careful, she’s still colicky.” Susan handed Danny a baby bottle and walked away as the prime minister’s limousine rolled to a stop.

The media came alive. The PM stepped out of the limo and smiled broadly at the zeal and laughter of the media, then saw that the cameras were pointed at a policeman who was saluting him with one hand, while holding a baby in his other arm.

The PM knew a photo opportunity when he saw one. Kissing babies was a classic. He gently took the infant from the policeman’s grasp. The baby immediately quit crying. He smiled with delight and lifted the infant above his head. Picture perfect! The noise from the media drowned out a concerned comment that the policeman made. He brought the baby closer to his face and pursed his lips. It was then that Tiffany chose to vomit.

chapter four

It was the first day after the September Labour Day weekend and Danny O’Reilly’s first day as a policeman in Vancouver. He was dressed in a suit and tie. The last-minute decision to have him transferred to Intelligence instead of GIS puzzled him. The reason would soon be clear.

After a forty-minute wait, he was summoned inside the office of Superintendent Wigmore, who was in command of all the Intelligence units in British Columbia.

Danny stood at attention for two minutes while Wigmore sat behind his desk in an overstuffed leather chair, flipping through Danny’s file. He wore a tailor-made suit that gave the impression that his shoulders could have belonged to someone who played pro football. His black hair was closely cropped and his moustache was trimmed top and bottom.

Wigmore eventually looked up and said, “Sit down.”

Danny sat in a wooden chair across from the desk.

“It’s too bad,” said Wigmore, shaking his head. “Up until this incident with the PM, you had a good career. A few years in uniform, followed by four years on Drug Section, two years on GIS, and lastly, five months on PR duties. I understand you were transferred from Winnipeg GIS to PR because you blew the whistle. Is that right?”

Danny sighed. “Yes, sir. Two of my colleagues embellished evidence to try and convict a bank robber. They said he spent more time casing a bank than he really did. I told, and Internal interviewed them. They admitted that they may have exaggerated, and the trial was dismissed. It felt pretty uncomfortable working in the Section after that.”

“Your actions were admirable. I would expect nothing less from anyone who works for me. But now…” Wigmore made a clucking noise with his tongue before continuing, “After this stunt with the PM, your career is in the toilet. In case you didn’t know it, Internal Affairs is contemplating having you charged with neglect of duty.”

Danny felt his stomach knot. “I didn’t know that, sir.”

“Fortunately for you, I have a good relationship with Internal.” Wigmore clasped his hands on the desk and leaned forward, staring intently at Danny’s face. “You’re going to be working with Jack Taggart. Have you ever heard of him?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. What I am about to tell you will not leave this room, understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s quite simple. I don’t trust Taggart, and you are going to provide me with every detail of what he is doing.”

“Sir?”

“Everyone Taggart works on, criminal organizations that have survived for years, seems bent on self-destruction once he starts to investigate. Ever hear of Project Stop-Watch?”

“The French gang that robs banks across the country? They’re notorious!”

“They were.”

“They keep crooks outside disguised as shoppers to shoot any officer in the back who might arrive early. A young officer was shot in the neck in Montreal. I think she lived but was paralyzed from the neck. The mastermind was Levasseur. He never entered the banks himself but would pick up his men a few blocks from the heist where they switched cars. It was like he was made of Teflon. Nothing ever stuck to him in court. What does this have to do with Jack Taggart?”

“Two months ago, Taggart somehow got lucky and turned an informant in the gang. Last month Levasseur was murdered.”

“I heard that most of the gang was arrested.”

“One day Levasseur’s men did a job and drove to ditch their car. Levasseur wasn’t there. Vancouver City Police were waiting instead. Taggart tipped them off moments before. Word is, when the gang caught up with Levasseur back in Montreal, he said that some guy with a beard car-jacked him at gunpoint as the heist was going down. He said he was let go afterwards.”

“Obviously a lie. So he set up his own guys?”

“That’s what they thought. His mutilated body was recovered later.”

“So Levasseur was Taggart’s informant?”

“No. Taggart’s informant was some low-level hood. Levasseur wasn’t anyone’s informant. What I do know is that Taggart had a beard then but shaved it off the day after.”

The suggestion made Danny catch his breath. “It might be a coincidence,” he offered.

“Coincidence, my ass! He might fool others, but he doesn’t fool me! Up until now, I’ve never been able to prove anything. This time will be different. A perfect opportunity has arisen.”

“Sir?”

“Something unexpected that I can use to my advantage. The only family Taggart had was his sister, her husband, and their two kids who lived on some farm up the Valley. Recently the two kids were murdered. Taggart’s at the funeral right now.”

“That was his niece and nephew? It’s in the news…”

“This is the time to get hard evidence on this hotshot. Someone messed with the only family he had. He won’t be thinking all that clear. Gain his confidence, if you can, but be careful. Don’t get sucked into his world. I want you to stick to him like shit to a sheep’s ass. If he so much as jaywalks, I want it documented. You see anything, you sense anything, report it to me.”

“Shouldn’t Internal Affairs be handling this?”

“They looked into Taggart and got zip. I need someone close to him. Someone he trusts.”

“Sir, I don’t relish having —”

“You don’t relish it?” said Wigmore, pounding his fist on the desk. His chair bashed against the wall as he stood and jabbed his finger into Danny’s chest and said, “I bet you relish having a job to support your wife and baby girl, don’t you, O’Reilly?”

Danny cringed back in his chair and said, “Yes, sir.”

Wigmore slowly sat down and said, “Good.” His voice softened and he said, “As policemen, we all have to do things we don’t like sometimes. It’s part of the job. Just make sure you do your job and I’ll see to it that you’re looked after.”

“Yes, sir.”

“In the future, don’t go through my receptionist. I don’t want any leaks on this matter or anyone to suspect you’re talking to me. You’re to report to me at home,” he said, handing Danny a slip of paper with his telephone number. “I expect a report, say, every Monday night around eight. Call me more often if you think you should. If we need to meet in person, there’s a place near my apartment called the Oceanside Lounge. The address is in the phone book.”

Wigmore glanced at his door. Danny caught the cue and started to leave.

“Oh, O’Reilly! One more thing.” Wigmore waited until Danny turned to face him. “Welcome to Vancouver.” Wigmore gave him what he thought was a reassuring smile.

Wigmore’s smile became genuine after Danny left. Child pornography. It’s time for Taggart to go. He’s too dangerous. A loose cannon.

Jack stared down at the two small caskets holding Maggie and Ben Junior. Mourners dropped handfuls of earth onto the caskets. He took two envelopes from his suit jacket.

Inside a nearby van, CC watched with binoculars. “What’s Taggart up to?”

Her partner, Charlie Wells, grabbed his own binoculars. “He’s taking something out of an envelope … looks like paper fish. He’s dropping one in each grave.”

Jack dropped the cutout of a paper shark. It fell quickly to the earth in Ben Junior’s grave. The cutout of a sunfish that he dropped on Maggie’s casket made a slight thud. The bullet folded in the fish bounced off the side of the coffin.

chapter five

Jack booked the rest of the week off, but the day after the funeral he called CC.

“Anything?”

“Jack, if we make an arrest, I’ll give you a call. Until then, let me do my job.”

“Any leads?”

CC sighed. “Not much. But who knows. It’s too soon yet.”

“What about the powder on the counter?”

“You were right on that. It analyzed as methamphetamine.”

“That’s good! Every chemist who makes meth leaves what amounts to their own chemical signature in it. The lab can cross-match different samples and you might get a match to identify where it originated from.”

“Damn it, Jack. Butt out! Lucy at the lab just explained all that to me.”

“So you’ve put word out to turn in meth samples so the lab can cross-match with —”

“I was going to do that, but instead I’m talking to you! Get the picture?”

Jack allowed himself a glimmer of hope as he hung up. He had his own plan. He called the toxicology department in the crime lab. Lucy was one of the good guys. She would help.

Luigi Grazia was in charge of the Intelligence Section that Danny was assigned to. He was fifty-four years old, and with his greased-back hair, swarthy complexion, and pinstriped suit, he could have passed for a gangster in a B movie. Before he became a desk jockey, he’d had a reputation for solving difficult problems. Some said he was lucky. The fact was, he was cunning.

“Welcome to the section,” said Grazia in a gruff voice. “Everyone calls me Louie.”

Danny was conscious of Louie’s penetrating eyes as they shook hands.

Louie told him he would be sharing an office with Jack Taggart, who would be his immediate supervisor. Danny was glad Jack was off for a week. He wasn’t looking forward to shaking hands with his new partner. He discovered, however, that waiting was worse.

Danny reviewed the reports that Jack had recently submitted on an international child pornography ring. When he finished those, he spent the rest of the week reading reports on past investigations about organizations involved in extortion, stolen-auto rings, prostitution, contract murders, drug trafficking, armored car holdups, and more. Louie told him to think of it as a history lesson.

The weekend would have been a good chance for Danny to unpack the many moving boxes that were still piled in his living room, but he felt listless and tired.

“Monday tomorrow,” Susan commented over their morning coffee.

Danny’s blank expression told her that he wasn’t listening.

“What’s wrong, honey? You acted thrilled when you first told me you were being transferred to Intelligence. But ever since you started you’ve been really quiet. You act like the cat that swallowed the mouse. What gives?”

“I’m just tired. I’ve done a lot of reading this week.”

“Tired? I can’t remember the last time you worked a week of straight day shifts. I think your new job seems great!”

“Maybe I’m not used to it.” He forced a smile.

“Maybe things will be different tomorrow when you meet your new partner.”

Danny chose to bite a piece of toast.

“Hope he’s someone you like. It’s too bad about his niece and nephew.”

Danny took another bite.

“You said he was single; maybe you should invite him over for dinner sometime.”

Danny was grateful that at that moment Tiffany started to cry from her crib. He left to pick her up.

It was noon when Jack woke up. He was still groggy when he answered his telephone.

“Hi, handsome.”

Jack was instantly awake. He recognized Lucy’s voice. He held his breath.

“You sound like you were sleeping,” Lucy said. “I worked all weekend.”

“Not as late as I did. Come on, Lucy! You wouldn’t call me at home unless you had something.”

“I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“One of the samples I brought in matched?”

“No. None of those three matched. You know, I only had about one-tenth of a gram to work with from the murder scene. But it’s close enough that I’ll call these a match. I sent a request to all the labs across the country. We got lucky. Four matches. Three out of Quebec and one from Vancouver.”

“All made by the same cook?” asked Jack.

“The same chemist brewed all four, or, with what was recovered at the murder scene, I should say all five.”

Jack wondered if his heartbeat could be heard over the phone. “Were any of the seizures high-level busts?”

“Two of the Quebec seizures were at the pound level. Both apparently seized from dealers who are known associates of Satans Wrath.”

“Satans Wrath! What about the Vancouver seizure?”

“That’s the bad news. It was less than a gram. Turned in by a Vancouver beat cop. I talked to the guy. It was night and he took a stroll with his partner down some alley on East Hastings. A woman panicked when she saw them coming and chucked it. Probably a hooker. They never did catch her. The only reason he sent it in was because Homicide put out a bulletin saying they were interested.”

“What night did this happen?”

“Same date as the murders.”

“Told Homicide yet?”

“Spoke with CC. She said there’s not much you can do with it under the circumstances. Guess she’s right, but I still thought I should tell you.”

Less than an hour later, Jack burst into Louie’s office.

“I’m going to do an intelligence probe on Satans Wrath, starting tonight.”

“They’re involved in your porn file?”

“No. I’m putting that on the shelf for a moment. This is more important.”

Louie studied Jack’s face, then said, “This is connected with the murders, isn’t it?”

“It could turn out that way if —”

“Come on, Jack. I know this means a lot to you, but give Homicide a chance. We work on organized crime. The brass won’t put up with —”

“Satans Wrath is the number one organized crime group in this country.”

“I know, but what does that have to do with the murders?”

“Our lab cross-matched speed found at the murder scene with speed seized in Quebec connected to Satans Wrath. Now they matched a gram of speed found in an alley off East Hastings as coming from the same chemist!”

“East Hastings? Even Satans Wrath wouldn’t hang out in that scuzzball part of town. Does Homicide know?”

“They’re who the lab did it for.”

“Jack, I understand that this is personal for you, but it’s still up to Homicide.”

“Come on, Louie! Identical speed connected to Satans Wrath in Quebec is turning up here! There are more members of that gang in this city than there are in any other province. And they’re big enough and cautious enough to find an abandoned farmhouse to conduct business.”

“They’re also one of the most dangerous! Damn it, Jack! This isn’t the way we’re supposed to do things! What am I going to have to do to educate you?”

“This isn’t coincidence! If they’re not involved with killing Liz’s kids you can bet they’ll know who did do it!”

“You’re not listening! This is a Homicide investigation. It’s up to them to —”

“GIS wouldn’t make any progress in that part of the city! They’d stand out like nuns in a brothel. Homicide told the lab that it’s not enough of a lead to do anything about it. They’re a reactive section, not proactive.”

“What makes you think you would succeed? Every operation mounted against them has soured. Years of wasted surveillance, dead informants, wiretaps that turned up nothing.”

“I’ve had a good teacher.”

Grazia sat back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the desk. “Some lowly speed dealer from East Hastings wouldn’t travel all the way out the Valley to do a deal.”

“I know, but someone higher up the ladder might.”

“But East Hastings?”

“I’ve got to start somewhere. I’ll come up with bigger connections sooner or later.”

Louie paused, then said, “Okay. Check it out. But be careful! The brass wouldn’t approve of you sticking your nose into the murder investigation. Wigmore is acting a little kinky these days. He would never authorize funding for us to do street-level drug buys. For now, keep it strictly to surveillance and see what you learn. Forget trying to claim any expenses.”

“I know. I haven’t claimed any expenses yet.”

Louie gave him a hard look. “I didn’t really think you took last week off. You’ve already been buying dope, haven’t you?”

Jack shrugged and said, “I wasted my time — and money. Three scores and no matches.”

“Jesus, Jack! I don’t want you taking risks like that! Policy says you need authorization and a proper cover team if you plan on buying dope. If Wigmore found out, you’d be toast.”

“Wigmore won’t find out.”

“He didn’t get to where he is by being stupid. I’ve got some news for you. Your new partner has arrived. He’s been here all week. Seems anxious to meet you.”

“Who?”

“His name is Danny O’Reilly. Came from back east. Was in Public Relations but —”

Jack groaned. “Just what I need, my own PR person. I bet he’s a pansy.”

“He has Drug experience and GIS. I’m told that PR was just temporary while he was waiting to sell his house and transfer out. It was his baby who puked on the prime minister.”

“That guy? What a hoot! The way I feel about politicians, I’d rather work with his baby.”

“He’s a few years younger than you. Acted a little nervous, but after what he went through with the PM, who wouldn’t be? Take him with you on surveillance. Nothing else until we get grounds to ask for authorization.”

“You got it.”

“Better come up with a project name.”

“How about Project 13?”

“Perfect. One more thing. I have no idea what your new partner is like, so be careful. I mean it when I say I don’t want you taking risks. Especially with Satans Wrath. If something doesn’t feel right, phone me and I’ll back you up. Day or night.”

“Thanks, Louie.”

“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Later that afternoon, Danny found a private moment to call Susan.

“What’s your new partner like?” she asked. “Or can’t you talk now?”

“I can talk. He looks like a hood, but actually seems quite nice.”

“You sound surprised.”

Danny paused, then said, “Sorry, I don’t have much time to talk. I wanted to let you know that I won’t be home for dinner. Sounds like I might be working late.”

“You’ve already worked all day! I thought we were going to unpack tonight. Speaking of which, the movers found the headboard and frame for our bed. It arrived today.”

“Sorry, honey, I have to work.”

“Is he making you work?”

“Jack? No. He told me to go home and work with him tomorrow night, but…”

“But what?”

“I need to stick close to him.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do. I’ll dig into those boxes tomorrow.”

“Okay. Maybe I’ll put the bed frame and headboard together myself.”

“Who needs a headboard? It’ll just bang on the wall and wake up Tiffany.”

Susan giggled. “You’re awful. Love ya.”

It was getting dark as Danny drove the two-door compact sports car, following Jack’s directions. He stopped for an early amber light and heard a slight grunt of disapproval.

“I heard about your niece and nephew. Just wanted to say I’m sorry. Susan and I have a baby girl. It would be hard to imagine anything more terrible.”

“Thanks,” Jack replied.

“I hope Homicide solves it soon. I wonder if they have any leads?”

“They don’t think they do.”

Neither spoke for several minutes. Danny then flipped on the windshield wipers and asked, “Where we going?”

“East Hastings.”

“Being as we’re partners, maybe you could tell me why?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny could see Jack sizing him up. He seemed to be weighing his response carefully.

“We’re starting what’s called an intelligence probe. Project 13. It’s —”

“About speed,” said Danny.

Jack looked surprised, so Danny continued. “The thirteenth letter of the alphabet. Letter M. Stands for methamphetamine. Bikers sometimes tattoo the number on —”

“So you know a little bit about drugs and bikers.”

“A little. Spent four years on Winnipeg Drugs. Also saw you at the office going through pictures of bikers.”

“Satans Wrath. Ever work on them back east?”

“Not really.”

“They have at least eighty-five members out here on the West Coast. In our area they’ve got four chapters with between eighteen to twenty-five guys in each chapter. Every chapter in the country has a local president and they all report to the national president. He’s a guy by the name of Damien who also lives here. They’ve also got about a dozen strikers.”

“Strikers?”

“Probationary members who do a lot of the dirty work for the club and take the risks.”

“Sounds like a big group to be taking on.”

“It’s worse than that. The rule of thumb is that for every regular member of the club, there are about ten hard-core criminals who work for them. Overall, in our area alone, we’re dealing with an army of about nine hundred professional criminals.”

Danny let out a low whistle, then said, “So what are we up to?”

“I think someone in Satans Wrath is either directly or indirectly supplying speed to the area we’re going to. I’m going to find out who. Are you a trained operator?”

“UC? No.”

“Didn’t think so.”

“Why not?” Danny tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“You look too straight for undercover.” Jack paused for a moment, then looked at Danny and said, “Actually, that’s not altogether true. There is a certain aura about you. You remind me a little of a used car salesman who’s trying to sell me a lemon.”

Danny chose not to respond. He stared out at the part of the city they had entered. On the steps of a men’s hostel, a small knot of men huddled in the doorway. Farther down the block was a small park. A syringe stuck out of the trunk of a dogwood tree.

He drove past several pawnshops. Heavy steel reinforcement bars guarded the windows and doors. One building had been bulldozed, leaving a cesspool of rubble and garbage.

“Turn left and drive slow down the next alley.”

Danny did as directed. Partway down the alley, he noticed that Jack paid particular attention to a grey steel door behind one building. A light above the door had been smashed out, but the words Black Water Hotel could still be seen in black on the door.

Moments later, Danny parked on the second level of a parking garage that overlooked the front of the hotel. The hotel was in dire need of paint. A sign in red neon lights hung from the front of the building. The letter T was burned out so it appeared from a distance as “HO EL.”

“Pop the trunk.”

Danny watched as Jack took off an ankle holster holding his Smith & Wesson semi-automatic 9-mm calibre pistol and, along with his badge, stashed them both in the trunk. He handed Danny a pair of binoculars.

“Why are you stashing your piece?”

“I find it uncomfortable to wear.”

“Really?”

Jack stared at Danny briefly, then said, “Your job, O’Really, is to stay here and watch.”

Danny wasn’t amused. “You’re not going down there alone. Policy says that —”

“Policy can get you killed. You’re not ready for the Black Water yet. Wait here.”

Danny waited until Jack walked away from the car before making an entry in his notebook. No doubt Superintendent Wigmore would be interested. He checked his watch. Less than an hour before he was to call him and report in.

Danny used the binoculars and saw Jack approach the front of the hotel. The red neon lights flared off the hookers’ faces as he spoke with them at the entrance. Then he ducked inside.

It occurred to Danny why Jack had left his gun in the car. That son of a bitch!

chapter six

Jack discreetly studied the patrons in the bar. A short, squat-looking man sat at a table with a hooker. A steady stream of people came and went. The money exchanging hands under the table made it pretty clear that he was a low-level dealer. Jack heard one of the customers refer to him as “Spider.”

Jack knew that trying to order an ounce of speed right away would generate some interest — and suspicion. But the higher he could start up the ladder, the sooner he could reach the bigger dealers. The type who preferred remote locations. He approached Spider’s table.

“I’m lookin’ to score,” he whispered in Spider’s ear.

“Who sent you to me?”

“Nobody, man. I’m in the business too. Not hard to spot,” said Jack, taking a seat.

“How do I know you’re not a narc?”

“If I was a fuckin’ narc, I’d have already busted ya for the flaps you got on ya.”

Spider stared at him for a moment, then said, “What do ya want? I got everything.”

“Speed.”

Spider held his hand under the table to show Jack a small piece of paper folded in a flap.

Danny threw his tie in the trunk and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, then slid his holster off his belt and strapped on Jack’s ankle holster. Minutes later, the door banged shut behind him as he entered the Black Water.

The smell of smoke and stale beer turned his stomach. It was noisy and crowded. He let his eyes adjust to the darkness. There were no windows in the long room, and the cardboard-tiled ceiling, like the walls, had been painted a flat black. A stage in the centre was brightly lit.

In the dim glow at the back of the bar, he saw some pool tables and the silhouettes of several men with cues stalking the tables before executing their shots. At a right angle to the entrance another door opened and he caught a glimpse of the lobby. The rest of the illumination consisted of a few lights recessed in the ceiling, which filtered a yellowish glow through grime.

He saw Jack slouched at a table, talking with a hooker and a short man who was built like a fire hydrant. Beer bottles and cigarette burns decorated the green elastic tablecloth in front of them. Danny strode over to an empty table where he could watch. What scum.

A waitress came by and Danny ordered a bottle of beer.

She stepped back and looked at his shoes, and then slowly worked her eyes up the rest of his body until she stared into his eyes. “You a cop?”

Danny felt the lump in his throat. “No,” he said, flashing open his sports jacket to show it wasn’t concealing a gun.

“This doesn’t look like your kind of place.”

“Yeah? Got nowhere else to go. Just lost my job. An hour ago I could’ve got you a good deal on a ’94 Buick. But not now.”

“I can’t afford a car.”

He felt more comfortable when the waitress returned with his drink and gave him a friendly smile. He opened his wallet and gave her a generous tip. More generous, he thought, than someone like her deserved.

He didn’t see the waitress eyeball the money in his wallet — or the subtle nod she gave to some junkies at the next table.

Jack looked at the dope in Spider’s hand and shook his head. “Not worth my while. As I said, I’m in the business too. I’m lookin’ for an ounce. If it’s good, I’ll be lookin’ for a lot more.”

“You want a fuckin’ ounce just like that! I said I got everything man, but I’m not a fuckin’ warehouse!” Spider gave Jack a hard look and said, “I smell a cop!”

“What do ya mean, ya smell a cop?” asked Jack.

Spider looked past Jack and said, “Sittin’ by himself over there.”

Jack turned slightly in his chair and saw Danny sitting at a nearby table. Damn it! If he blows this… He looked at Spider and said, “That guy looks too straight to be a cop.”

“Maybe.”

“Listen, I’m here to do business.” As Jack spoke, he slowly pulled a wad of cash partway out of his front pocket and then shoved it back in.

Spider sat back in his chair. Jack could see him trying to make a decision. Having seen the money, greed would take over. The waitress came and Jack held up one finger.

Danny toyed with his drink and checked his watch. About time to call Wigmore. He saw Jack order another beer and knew that he had time to slip into the lobby and make a call.

Spider saw Danny walk to the lobby, then asked Jack, “So, you want an ounce?”

“Yeah, for now.”

“What makes you think I want the competition?”

“Relax. I’m puttin’ out far away from here.”

Spider mulled it over, then said, “Okay. Wait here.”

Jack watched Spider slink over to the next table and talk with a woman. She was big and solid-looking but had no fat. She wore a man’s singlet white under-shirt that looked grey. It was stretched tightly over her bare chest. Her black jeans and knee-high leather boots gave her a certain air of hostility. She had long red hair, but judging by the black roots, Jack knew it had been a long time since she had last bothered to dye it. She had “HD” tattooed on one arm and “Live to Ride” tattooed on the other. A tattoo of a rose was visible on the top of her breast.

She gave Jack a long cold stare, then whispered to Spider.

“Fuck, Red, I talked to ’im. He’s all right, I tell ya!” Jack heard Spider reply.

Moments later, Spider returned. “Go to the can and wait!”

Jack entered the men’s room and stood by the sink. He glanced at the graffiti covering the wall. Much of it was obliterated with grime. Seconds later, Spider and two junkies entered, and Jack barely had time to look up before the junkies grabbed him by the arms, smashing him back against the wall.

“Hey! What the fuck are —”

Spider clamped his hand over Jack’s mouth and said, “Shut your fuckin’ trap! This ain’t a rip. We’re goin’ to have a little look-see is all.”

His hand tasted and smelled of smoke and stale beer. He took his hand away and ripped Jack’s shirtsleeve back as one of the junkies pinned his wrist to the wall. Spider took a syringe out of his jacket pocket. The syringe was filled to capacity, and Spider hovered the silver tip of the needle over a vein in Jack’s elbow. A drop of murky liquid dangled from the tip.

“Don’t fuckin’ move, man!” hissed Spider. “Don’t even try an’ breathe! ’Cause if you do, we’ll spike you right now. And there’s enough in this rig to kill an elephant, let alone a pig!”

Danny checked to make sure the lobby was empty, then he called Wigmore.

“You think he’s trying to buy dope where?” Wigmore asked.

Danny repeated the name. “The Black Water Hotel. On a street called East Hastings.”

“Bingo! I spoke with GIS today. They said that some drug found in an alley off East Hastings matched the same drug found at the murder scene. I knew Taggart would get involved. I might recommend he be charged with obstruction!”

“Sir? What should I do?”

“Continue to play along. Give him some more time, or I should say rope, to hang himself. Make sure you make notes that he went in there alone and left his gun in the car.”

“Already done, sir.” Danny hung up the phone and let out a deep breath. He realized that he had a headache. He made another call.

“Hi, honey! You on your way home?” Susan held the telephone with the crook of her neck as she placed some family pictures on the dresser in her bedroom. A portrait of Danny in his red tunic looked particularly handsome.

“Sorry, babe, not yet. I’m stuck in some fleabag of a bar watching my new partner drink beer and chat with some hooker.”

“What are you doing in a place like that?”

“Good question. Everyone in here is a degenerate. My so-called partner seems to be having fun. How’s Tiffany?”

“She’s asleep. Listen, I got the bed put together, but can’t find the nuts to the bolts.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve got my own nuts.”

Susan snickered and then said, “But what about me? I don’t have any.”

“You can use mine whenever you want. Don’t wait up. Love ya!”

Spider didn’t take his eyes off Jack as he put the syringe down on the edge of the sink before searching him. He started at Jack’s neck and worked his way down to his feet. He took his time and wasn’t bashful. He found a hunting knife tucked in the top of Jack’s boot.

Spider pulled out the knife. “What’s this?”

“I ain’t in the business of lettin’ people rip me off!”

Spider smiled, then looked at his two companions and said, “Okay, let ’im go.”

“So what the hell was that all about?” said Jack in a voice he hoped sounded convincing.

“Just makin’ sure you’re not the heat.”

“This is fuckin’ bullshit, man! I’m no more the heat than you are!”

“Yeah, well, it pays to be careful. Don’t take it personal. Go wait by the pool tables. Should be along in about half an hour.”

“Give me my blade back!”

Spider pointed the knife at Jack’s eye and used the tip of the blade to flick his eyelashes. Jack slowly reached for the knife. Spider relinquished his grip and Jack shoved the knife back in his boot. He slammed the door as he left, then walked to the rear of the tavern.

Spider left the men’s room and went directly to Red. He whispered to her and then returned to his table. The two junkies came out a minute later and left the bar. They had just been given their fix for the night. He noticed Danny return to his seat.

Jack chalked his name on a board to play pool. His legs felt weak and he stood with his hands in his pockets, hoping nobody would notice him shaking. Red went to the lobby but returned a few minutes later.

Ten minutes later, Jack saw Danny get up and go to the men’s room. A scrawny junkie at a nearby table gave Danny a long, hard look, and then followed him. Jack hoped his frustration didn’t show. Now what? Blow my cover for some jerk I told to stay in the car? Goddamn him!

Danny stood at the urinal. He heard someone come in behind him but didn’t look up. The junkie took a buck knife out of his pocket and opened the blade. He partially hid the knife beside his leg as he crept up behind Danny.

The pain was instant. Danny briefly lost consciousness when the butt end of the knife slammed hard into the side of his skull. He crashed into the wall and his knees buckled as he slid face-first down the urinal. The junkie grabbed his hair and smashed his face into the drain.

Danny’s teeth cut his tongue and he could taste the blood as it ran down the back of his throat. The deodorizer cake in the bottom of the urinal stung his eyes and lips. His left hand was partially pinned under his face, and the junkie held his other wrist high up his back. He felt the sharp edge of the knife on his throat and froze.

“You so much as whisper or blink a fuckin’ eyeball and I’ll slash yer fuckin’ throat!”

For a strange moment, Danny didn’t feel fear or panic. A sorrowful calm seeped across his brain. There is nothing I can do. I am not in control of my life — he is. In a moment he’ll find my badge and then I’ll die. I’ll never see Susan or Tiffany again. It’s so sad….

The door to the men’s room opened and he cocked his head and saw Jack. Both Danny and the junkie stared at Jack, who sauntered up to the urinal next to them. Danny heard him unzip and then softly whistle.

The junkie kneed Danny between the shoulder blades, pinning his face harder into the bottom of the urinal. He felt the junkie’s hand slide his wallet from his pocket. Son of a bitch! He’s not going to help me! I’m going to die in here like this! Panic replaced sorrow.

Jack eyed the situation. How do I help without blowing my cover? Then he spotted Danny’s ring. If the junkie wanted it, he’d have to release Danny’s arm.

“Missed his wedding ring,” Jack said, trying to sound casual.

Danny saw the blood and water trickling across his gold wedding ring.

“Yeah. Gimme yer fuckin’ ring!”

Danny raised his left hand above his head. The junkie released his grip on his wrist and reached for the ring. It was the chance Danny needed. He uttered a panicked squeal while grabbing the knife by the blade. The sharp steel cut through his flesh while he started bashing the junkie’s wrist against the ceramic side of the urinal. He drove a sharp elbow into the junkie’s ribs and the knife clattered into the bottom of the urinal.

Both men were in a frenzied struggle for the knife. Danny’s brain didn’t register Jack yell, “Hey! You made me piss on my leg!” Nor was he aware that Jack then kicked the junkie in the head, knocking him off balance. Danny grabbed the knife as the junkie turned to scramble away. Within a heartbeat, Danny buried the knife into the junkie’s back — and then recoiled in horror.

A different panic swept over him when he realized what he had done. The junkie staggered to his feet and tried to reach the knife protruding from under his shoulder blade.

“Here, let me help you with that,” said Jack, while zipping up his pants. He pulled the knife out and added, “You better split, man, before this guy finishes you off!”

The junkie flopped against the door, opened it, and hurried out.

Danny sat on the floor, gawking at his bleeding hand while Jack rinsed the knife in the sink. Neither spoke as Jack cut off half of Danny’s shirtsleeve and tied the cloth around his hand. Jack handed him the knife.

“Stabbing someone in the back. Is that what they’re teaching at the academy these days?”

Danny’s mouth hung open as he stared at Jack in both shock and disbelief. “We’ve got to report this. That guy could die! We can’t just —”

“Forget that! You’re a cop. You’d end up in jail. Only citizens are allowed to panic.”

“But what if he dies? You can’t —”

“He won’t die. A shoulder isn’t what you would call a vital organ. If you wanted to kill him, you should have gone for his carotid artery.”

Danny looked down at the blood seeping through the cloth on his hand. “I need stitches.”

“You’ll need a few. There’s a clinic about five blocks away. But not now.”

“What do you mean, not now?” said Danny, as a combination of fear and anger crept back into his voice. “I’m bleeding.”

“I need fifteen or twenty minutes. You can hold off that long. I obviously didn’t make myself clear when I told you to wait in the car, so let me explain it to you in your language.”

“Huh?”

“The gentleman I was sitting with is lining me up with an ounce of speed. He goes by the name of Spider. A tattooed lady of questionable character is involved. She has long red hair and goes by the name of Red. I want you to watch and see if you can figure out the action.”

“Walk out like nothing happened?”

“Yes. This place is not all that genteel. An extra set of eyes might help.”

“So now you decide to follow policy?” said Danny harshly.

“Forget about policy. You need to learn the rules … to be educated.”

“What rules? What are you talking about? Educated about what?”

“For tonight, two simple things. Lesson one, leave your attitude behind. You look like you think you’re better than everybody else.”

“I am better than anyone in this dump!”

“That attitude will get you killed. Besides, you’ve never walked in their shoes.”

“This is nothing but a den of snakes! Scum! I can see that much!”

“That’s the second lesson. If they don’t respect you, you’ll become a victim.”

“I just did!”

“I mean a dead victim. Everybody will know what happened. They’ll have a lot more respect for you if you stay and don’t act like a pansy. Wash up, then go out there and order a beer and drink it slow. Hold the beer in your cut hand. The cold will slow the bleeding. When I leave, don’t walk out with me. I’ll go out the back. Wait at least ten minutes then go out the front.”

“Anything else?” asked Danny, sullenly.

“Yes. Zip up!”

Jack returned to the pool tables. The wounded junkie was gone. A few minutes later, Danny stumbled out of the men’s room. The noise level dropped as patrons saw his bandaged hand and the open knife held forth in his other hand. His anger and paranoia was evident as his eyes darted about. Everyone waited and stared. Danny then used his good hand to press the release button and his forearm to close the blade. He dropped the knife in his pocket and then growled at the waitress to bring him a beer. The noise level returned to normal.

A few minutes later, Jack noticed a slim man with a shaved head and moustache walk casually through the bar. He was wearing a black leather vest that had silver medallions for buttons. He gave Red a subtle nod and walked back out the main entrance.

Red went to the rear of the bar and stood by the fire escape door. The door could be opened only from inside the bar. She waited until she heard a rap on the door and then opened it. She was passed something and then pulled the door shut.

Several men, all holding cues, slowly encircled Jack. Some held the cues by the wrong end, gripping them like a baseball bat. They stared into his eyes, defying him to make a move.

The circle parted slightly as Red walked up to Jack. Without saying a word, she handed him a plastic baggie of brown powder. Seconds later, the transaction was completed. Jack pushed open the fire escape door and disappeared down the darkened alley.

Danny showed up at the parking garage on schedule.

Jack held up the plastic baggie of powder. “See anything after I left?”

“Yeah. Red went to where Spider was sitting and gave him a couple of bills. Then she met a guy who just arrived. A minute later they both split for the lobby.”

“Bald? Leather vest?”

“You saw him?”

“He cruised through the bar right before the deal went down. I’m sure Baldy is her connection. Bet he stashed the dope in the alley until he checked things out, then went and handed it to her through the back door.”

“Recognize him from the photos?”

“No. A club member would never deliver it.” Jack saw Danny grimace as he adjusted the piece of shirtsleeve wrapped around his hand and said, “I’m sorry if I was a little snarky in there. I respect how you handled yourself after. You don’t listen very well, but you’ve got guts. If you don’t want to be my partner I’ll understand.”

Danny thought about Wigmore. Do I have any choice? He looked at Jack and replied, “I’ll still be your partner — for now.”

“Good. Then I’ll clue you in as to what my plans really are. This is just the beginning.”

I’m sure Wigmore will be very interested to hear your plans. Danny stared down at his hand and said, “This is just the beginning?”

Jack playfully punched him on the shoulder and said, “What a pansy. Okay, I’ll drive you to the clinic. We’ll talk after.”

chapter seven

Jack and Danny entered the medical clinic and approached the receptionist, an older, heavy-set woman with short grey hair. Behind her, a younger woman wearing a white lab coat stood bent over with her back to them as she rifled through some papers.

“What can I do for you two gentlemen?” the receptionist asked.

“My friend fell on some glass and cut his hand.”

Jack picked up a magazine and sat in the reception area. He heard the receptionist ask Danny for his provincial health card. Jack winced when Danny didn’t lower his voice to explain that as a federal police officer, he was on a different health plan. He was glad there were no other people in the office. A moment later the receptionist said, “Doctor?”

The doctor turned around. Jack noticed that she was a petite woman, with a slim figure and long black hair.

“Hello! I’m Dr. Trovinski,” she said to Danny in a cheery voice. “Come with me, officer, and we’ll take a look.”

Jack joined them as they entered a small examination room and stood beside Danny as he sat on the edge of the examination bed.

“And why did you come along?” the doctor asked.

Jack smiled and stuck out his hand as he introduced himself. She reluctantly accepted his handshake but remained silent, awaiting his reply.

“My partner suffers from a phobia about seeing doctors. On the way over he made me promise to stay with him.”

“Really?” She looked at Danny, who looked perplexed. “You suffer from iatrophobia?”

“Probably got smacked on the bum too hard by a doctor when he was born,” Jack offered.

The doctor gave Jack a furtive look and smiled. Her bright white teeth shone, as did her eyes. She turned her attention to Danny’s hand and slowly unwrapped the shirtsleeve that was being used as a dressing. Classical music softly played from a nearby office and she hummed quietly as she worked.

“Fantasy. D-Minor by Mozart,” said Jack.

“You know your music,” she replied without looking up.

“My favourite is The Marriage of Figaro.”

“Mine, too, but that CD is scratched.” She finished unwrapping Danny’s hand and started to wash off the blood.

“Would you like to eat pickled herring in chocolate sauce?” Jack asked.

“Would I what?”

“Would you like to eat pickled herring in chocolate sauce?”

“Certainly not. Sounds gross!”

“Sounds gross to me too. Looks like we have at least two things in common. Are you a vegetarian?”

“No, but I see where you’re going with this, and —”

“That makes three things we have in common.”

“I’m married.”

I’m such an idiot! He looked at the doctor and said, “Sorry.” He found the silence that followed more embarrassing, so he asked, “Do you have children?”

“Uh, yes. Three of them.”

“You’re not wearing a ring, so I thought…”

“Sanitary reasons.”

She examined Danny’s hand carefully, then looked at Jack. “You told my receptionist that he cut his hand when he fell on some glass.”

Jack nodded.

Dr. Trovinski’s face hardened. “I don’t appreciate being lied to. Do you really think I don’t know what a defensive knife wound looks like? Especially working in this neighbourhood? Give me a break! I treated a fellow not even half an hour ago with a stab wound to his shoulder. Believe me, I know knife wounds when I see them!”

“Is he going to be okay?” asked Danny.

“Who?”

“This other guy, who was stabbed in the back.”

“How did you know that it was the back of his shoulder?”

There was an uncomfortable silence, then she said, “Yes, he’ll be fine. I don’t know what happened between the two of you and I really don’t care. My job is to patch people up. Most of my customers wouldn’t come in for treatment if they thought I would tell anyone.”

“Thank you, doctor,” said Jack.

She nodded curtly and then turned back to Danny. “I smell alcohol on your breath. I suspect you’ve had enough to drink that I won’t need to waste time administering freezing.”

Danny sat upright. “No! I didn’t drink that much!”

The doctor pursed her lips into a slight grin as she walked over to a cabinet.

“Pansy,” whispered Jack.

It was well past midnight when Jack drove Danny away from the clinic.

“How’s your hand?”

“Sore. So’s my tongue. I bit it when he whacked me.”

“What were you prescribed?”

Danny handed him the small bottle of pills.

Jack examined the label. “T-threes.” He tossed the pill bottle into the back seat. “I have better medicine.”

At 5:15 in the morning, Danny found himself sitting cross-legged on a seawall in Stanley Park, overlooking the ocean. Jack’s medicine was a bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold tequila that they passed back and forth between them.

Jack explained the real reason that he was interested in Satans Wrath and admitted that he didn’t have proper authorization or Louie’s approval to buy drugs.

Danny felt tense. Will Wigmore forgive me for stabbing that guy if I come clean with Taggart? He looked at the half-empty bottle of tequila. What the hell, at least my hand doesn’t hurt. Come to think of it, I can’t feel my legs, either. He rolled over on his side and kicked to untangle his legs. He then snickered when he thought of Jack’s awkward pass at the doctor.

“She was pretty, wasn’t she?”

“Who?” Jack asked.

“The doc.”

“Yes, I noticed.”

“You noticed! No shit! I would never have guessed. Too bad she’s married.”

“She’s not married.”

“Yeah, she is. Don’t you remember? She can’t wear her ring ’cause —”

“She lied.” Jack paused, then took his first real swig on the bottle. “Not that it matters. She obviously didn’t want to go out with me.” He passed the bottle back to Danny and added, “I can’t believe I acted that way around her. I was a fool. No wonder she wasn’t interested.”

“What makes ya say she lied?”

“Her demeanour and her eyes.”

“Her eyes?”

“Most people’s eyes look slightly in one direction when they recall something that is true. Her eyes did, when we talked about music and food. The eyes usually look in the opposite direction when they use the more creative side of their brain to formulate a lie. Her eyes were no different. She doesn’t have a husband or children.”

“Son of a bitch! What are ya? A two-legged lie detector?” Danny chortled but abruptly stopped. Hope the son of a bitch doesn’t ever ask me about Wigface … no, Wig…

“Come on,” said Jack. “Time to take you home.”

It was 6:25 when Susan awakened to the sound of the key turning at the front door. She saw Danny’s figure as he entered the darkened room.

“You’re home late. How was your first shift with your new partner?” Susan asked, leaning out of bed and turning on a bedside light.

It took Susan a moment to grasp the situation. Danny was covered in sand and there was blood on his face, shirt, and bandaged hand. He carried his sports jacket over one shoulder. His other arm was half bare with the jagged remains of his shirtsleeve hanging above.

“My God! What happened? Are you all right?”

“Am I all right? Look at me! I bit my tongue. Some son of a bitch tried to rob me! I got whacked on the skull and had my eyeballs jammed into a urinal with a knife at my throat! Meantime Jack comes in and pisses in the urinal beside us…. Yeah, I’m all right.”

“Didn’t he help you?”

“Help me? Help me! Oh yeah, he helped me all right. Told the guy to steal my wedding ring while he was at it! Did I tell ya I bit my tongue? That’s why I sound funny.”

“Didn’t you call the police?”

Danny stood on one leg as he tried to take off his pants. “Christ! I am the police! Besides, if I had called, I’d be arrested for what I did to the guy.”

“What happened? What did you do to the guy?”

Danny hopped sideways three times across the floor on one leg, before losing his balance and falling facedown on the bed.

“I gotta make notes on this,” mumbled Danny. “Think I’ll be in shit tomorrow … or today … or whatever.” Seconds later he started to snore.

Susan looked at the picture on the dresser of the man she had married and then at the man beside her. Is this the same guy?

Danny snorted as the bed collapsed, then continued to snore. The noise did awaken Tiffany, who cried from the other room.

chapter eight

An hour and a half after Danny’s bed collapsed, Jack met Lucy when she arrived in the parking lot of the crime laboratory.

“Another sample?”

Jack handed her the baggie of powder that he had bought from Red.

Lucy looked closely at the powder. “Looks like meth. Good amount this time. We’re pretty busy at the moment. Probably take me a week or ten days to compare.”

Jack’s shoulders slumped. His voice was monotone. “I got it in a bar that backs out onto the same alley as the one that you cross-matched from the beat cop. Tough bar. If this matches, I could be on to something.”

“Buy this yourself?”

“Don’t ask. Appreciate it if you keep this between the two of us.”

“If it does match … what about Homicide?”

“If it matches, I’ll let them know in due time.”

“Fine by me. It’s your neck. I’m just the analyst. I don’t know who is running what.”

“Thanks, Luce.”

“You don’t look so good. You better get some sleep.”

“I’m heading home now.”

Lucy waved to a colleague as her husband dropped her off while two little kids waved goodbye from the back seat. Lucy thought they looked sweet. She saw Jack blink a couple of times, then wipe his eyes with the back of his hand as he turned and walked toward his car.

“Jack!” She waited until he turned around. “Make it three days. I’ll have the results then.”

Jack picked up Danny and they arrived at the office late in the afternoon. They checked hundreds of pictures of members of Satans Wrath and known associates. Baldy was not one of them. Moments later, Louie summoned Danny into his office.

“What the hell happened to your hand?”

“I fell. It’s just a couple of stitches.”

“Yeah? Well, your eyes look like two eagles’ assholes in a power dive! What were you up to last night?”

“I’m not feeling well. Maybe a touch of the flu.”

“You smell more like Jose Cuervo beat the crap out of you.”

Danny heard Jack chuckle and realized that he had come in behind him.

“So? What happened last night?” Louie demanded.

“There’s a bar that backs into the alley where the gram was recovered from. The Black Water Hotel. Saw a redheaded woman inside with a Harley Davidson tattoo. She looked like she was dealing. Going to see if we can properly identify her.” Jack then looked at Danny and added, “At least we’ll take another stab at it.”

Louie thought Danny’s face looked even more ashen.

The next shift was uneventful. Jack watched from the parking garage while Danny slowly sipped on a beer inside the Black Water. Jack wanted to give the impression that he was busy selling drugs elsewhere. Spider and Red were in the bar, but there was no sign of Baldy.

Danny made his beer last a long time. The smell of it didn’t help his hangover. He looked at the white band of skin around his finger. Susan didn’t mind that he left his ring at home.

She was also a little happier when a sober Danny arrived home before midnight and told her that he had the next day off. Jack had some personal business to take care of, and his next shift wouldn’t start until the day after.

Ben quietly walked up to Elizabeth in the kitchen. Neither one mentioned it was Maggie’s birthday. There was no need. They also never discussed what to do with the wrapped birthday present hidden under their bed. The easel was too big to hide anywhere else. Ben placed his hands on her shoulders and looked intently at her face.

Elizabeth spoke first. “Jack phoned a few minutes ago. He was going to come out but called to check in case we wanted to be alone. I told him not to be silly.”

Ben grimaced. “He shouldn’t worry. I’m glad he’s coming. It’s good to have someone to take your mind off it.”

“But if we want to talk about Maggie and Ben Junior, he doesn’t clam up or change the subject, either.”

Ben swallowed as he stared down at his wife.

“You know,” she continued, “I feel sorry for him. He feels guilty that they haven’t made an arrest. He needs someone to talk to as well. I invited him for dinner…” Elizabeth’s words trailed off when she looked into Ben’s eyes. He wasn’t really listening.

Ben opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it and started again. “That’s good. What time did you tell him to come?”

“This afternoon sometime. Dinner will be around six.”

Ben continued to stare at her.

“What is it, Ben? What are you thinking? Is it just … because it’s today?”

Ben took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ve been wonderin’. Maybe we should sell and move away. This place has got so many … memories.” His eyes were watery and his voice cracked as he spoke. Words didn’t come easy.

Elizabeth shook her head as tears flooded her eyes. “Memories are all we have. I don’t want to lose those, too.”

Ben squeezed her shoulders with his big hands. He looked relieved. “I feel that way, too. Today, I see a lot of … memories. I wonder if we shouldn’t do something.”

“Like what?”

Ben opened his mouth, but then closed it again and shook his head.

“Tell me, Ben! What are you thinking? I know you’ve been raised that men aren’t supposed to show emotion. But you can’t keep everything bottled up inside you. It’s not good! Your body is like a dam. It breaks if you don’t let go sometimes.”

Ben paused, then said, “I was wonderin’ if we shouldn’t do somethin’ as a tribute.”

Elizabeth nodded encouragement.

“I picked … I picked a pail full of blackberries.”

Elizabeth was momentarily stunned and her eyes brimmed with tears. “Oh, Ben! I’m sorry. I can’t. I’ll put them in the freezer. But not now. I just can’t. I’ll make another pie, but not that one, not yet.”

“I’m sorry. It was a dumb idea.”

“No, it’s not dumb. It’s just me,” she sobbed.

Ben pulled her close to his chest. She continued to sob as she choked out what she wanted to say. “It’s strange, there are times when I look at the pictures Maggie drew, or hold the teddy bear that Ben Junior used to drag around with him all the time. Sometimes I feel the need to cry. I think it helps. But I can’t make a blackberry pie, not yet. It was Maggie’s favourite.”

“I know it was,” whispered Ben. “I know,” he repeated, patting her on the back.

Then she looked Ben straight in the eye and added, “But we sure as hell aren’t going to move, either.”

They hugged each other tight, and then they both cried.

Jack climbed into the loft and saw Ben sitting on a bale, staring at a rope hanging from the rafters. Jack self-consciously cleared his throat before sitting on another bale.

“Glad you could make it,” said Ben. “You’re early.”

“Thought you could use an extra hand with the hay.”

“Rained last night. I’m givin’ it another day to dry.” Ben was silent for a moment, then said, “Nothing new?”

“Might be connected to drug dealers out of Quebec. I’m working on it.”

“Think the murderer is from Quebec?”

“I think whoever did it is from the West Coast. Only a high-level dealer familiar with the area would go to the bother of using a place like that.”

“Yeah, it was a real bother, wasn’t it?”

Jack choked on his own breath, then stammered, “I’m sorry Ben. I didn’t mean…”

“Naw, forget it. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You’ve been a real friend, Jack. Probably the best damn friend I’ve ever had. It’s just that today is, well…”

Ben’s voice trailed off and both men sat in silence. Eventually Ben gestured at the rope hanging from the rafter and said, “It was only two weeks ago that Ben Junior was pretending to be a pirate and swingin’ out on that rope. Maggie was sitting here drinking lemonade.”

Jack didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say. He felt the gnawing in his stomach. He clenched his teeth to control his tear ducts, then took a deep breath and relaxed his jaw.

“You know, Jack, I’m not a violent man. But if you ever find out who did it … I’d like to see this rope used for a different purpose. I know it won’t bring Maggie or Ben Junior back. Nothing could. I just figure somebody should pay for what happened.”

“Somebody will pay for this,” said Jack tersely.

“I can still see Maggie sitting on the bale drinking lemonade … trying to act like a grown-up lady. Sometimes I walk in the kitchen and expect to see her sitting at the table drawing pictures. Then I remember. I’ll never see her again. It makes me embarrassed I could forget, even for a moment, what happened.”

“Maybe it’s good to remember the good times.”

“Maybe. Liz still sees the blood. She woke up again last night, screaming and pushing my head away from her pillow, thinking it was Ben Junior’s at … at that place.”

Jack saw the tears in Ben’s eyes and wondered if Ben was talking to him or to himself.

“I’m sorry, Jack. Shouldn’t be talking to you this way. I know you’re doing everything possible. There is something I was going to ask you to do for me, if you can.”

“Anything, Ben.”

“Maggie’s little sketchbook. You know the one. She carried it in her back pocket all the time. Just before it happened she was sitting where you are and drew a picture of a wasp on a glass. We want to get it back.”

“I’ll check with CC. I’m sure it’s not a problem.”

Natasha Trovinski looked up from her desk as her receptionist walked in and handed her a compact disc with an envelope attached to it.

“What’s this?”

“Some cute guy said to give it to you, then he left.”

“Who?”

“One of the two Mounties who were in the other night. Not the one you treated.”

Natasha examined the disc. The Marriage of Figaro. She opened the envelope and read the note:

Please accept my apology for lying to you the other night. I also want to thank you for your discretion. If you ever do get married, I hope your husband enjoys this music too.

Sincerely, Jack

P.S. I also don’t appreciate being lied to. Looks like we have another thing in common.

“Did he ask you out on a date?” the receptionist asked. “Better be careful you don’t catch scarlet fever!”

“No, he didn’t ask me. Besides, you know I don’t date patients.”

Jack paid Homicide a visit and spoke with CC.

“Ben asked me for it yesterday. He watched her draw her last picture in it of a wasp on a glass, maybe less than an hour before she was killed. She kept it in her back pocket. Should be in her personal effects.”

“I have it. Actually, it was on the floor at the scene. Behind the door. I looked through it. That kid could really draw! One picture looks like you.”

“It was me.” Jack smiled as he recalled the event. “She made me sit on a log holding a hotdog near my mouth for half an hour for that one.”

“Wait here, I’ll go to the exhibit locker and get it for you.”

A moment later CC returned. “The wasp wasn’t the last thing she put in it. She printed the word Dirty on the next page. Sign for it and you can take it.”

Jack signed the release form and looked at Maggie’s last entry. “This doesn’t fit. She was really talented. Why would she put that word in there?”

CC shrugged. “Who knows? Kids…. It doesn’t matter. Just take it.”

“Was her pencil in her pocket?”

“No. It was on the floor. Covered in blood. The parents won’t want that.”

Later that afternoon, Jack and Danny arrived at their office. The telephone was ringing as they walked in and Jack grabbed it. Lucy didn’t waste time.

“It matched! The ounce you gave me to test came from the same chemist!”

“Thank God. Oh, Luce, are you sure?”

“Yup!”

Jack rushed into Louie’s office where Danny caught up to him.

“I need to get authorization to make a UC purchase,” Jack said.

“From who?”

“From this Red that I was telling you about!”

“Some low-level dealer that you think might be selling speed? Forget it! Wigmore would wipe his ass with that request.”

“Lou, she is selling ounce level for sure. She supplies all the speed dealers in the bar.”

“And how do you know that?”

Danny looked at Jack. This should be interesting.

“Managed to turn an informant. He gave me the lowdown on the place.”

“Really?” Louie spoke to Jack but stared at Danny. “You came up with an informant pretty quick. Is this person reliable?”

Danny felt uneasy. Christ, is he like Jack? What way are my eyes supposed to look?

Jack answered for him. “We got lucky. Did surveillance like you told us. Caught a guy with an ounce of speed and managed to flip him. I haven’t told you the best part yet. It’s a match. The lab matched the ounce with the meth at the murder scene and the meth associated to Satans Wrath back east. They’ve obviously started a new connection with the club out here!”

“Sounds like a reasonable theory.”

“This is a good opportunity to take a swipe at Satans Wrath. Give Wigmore the details; he’s bound to approve it!”

“I’ll speak with Wigmore, but first, I want you to talk with Homicide.”

“I’ve been doing inside surveillance. This isn’t the place for people in suits.”

“I’ll vouch for that,” said Danny, glancing at his hand.

“They don’t have to go inside and hold your hand. I’ll call them myself.”

Jack and Danny took a seat and waited while Louie called CC. He relayed the information and listened, then hung up.

“Well?” Jack asked. “Are they coming to babysit?”

“They’re not interested yet. CC has worked on Satans Wrath before. She said they never talk on their phones and never rat each other out.”

“So they don’t want to be involved?” Jack’s voice sounded upbeat.

“She appreciates what you are doing but says she’s not interested unless you have something more substantial.”

“She’s got a point,” Danny said. “How do we take on an army like that? They must have hundreds of dealers, maybe thousands.”

“Have to work our way up to the multi-kilo level,” said Jack. “Catch a club member who has the inside track. Someone willing to talk.”

“But these guys have a reputation for never talking,” replied Danny.

“We’ll see about that,” replied Jack. His voice sounded cold.

“Maybe get an undercover operator inside the club?” suggested Danny.

Jack shook his head. “Won’t work.”

Danny looked at Louie, who explained. “They test their strikers for at least two years. Make them do all sorts of things. Robberies, drug trafficking, maybe murder. Things that UC operators can’t do. Jack is right. You need to turn someone on the inside.”

“With proper funding,” said Jack, “we’ll get our informant to make bigger and bigger buys. Maybe even introduce me. Once we get high enough, the bigger fish will surface.”

Louie nodded in agreement. “I’ll talk with Wigmore. I’m sure he’ll be interested.” He dialled Superintendent Wigmore, who gave him an immediate audience.

“Turned an informant, did they? Both Taggart and that new guy? What’s his name again?”

“Danny O’Reilly.”

“Right … O’Reilly. Did they both turn this informant, or just Taggart?”

“I don’t know the specific details about that. Jack isn’t one to take credit. It might have only been him who grabbed the guy.”

“Well, it doesn’t really matter. I was simply curious.” Wigmore took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I don’t mind Taggart placing that porn investigation aside. Taxpayers have more important issues. But as far as funding goes, I’m sorry to say that we’re way over budget and there won’t be any money available until next spring. I feel awful about it, but that’s the way it is. Tell your men they can continue with surveillance, but they’re not to do anything else. Even if Homicide isn’t interested now, I still don’t want your men trampling on something that could later turn out to be important.”

Wigmore watched as Louie left his office. Informant, my ass!

Louie motioned for Jack and Danny to follow him to his office where he told them what Wigmore had said. It bothered him that Jack didn’t protest or utter a word. He just turned and walked out of the office. That meant that he already had an alternate plan.

It also bothered him that Wigmore said he didn’t remember Danny’s name. Wigmore had a reputation for remembering detail. He had welcomed Danny to the office less than two weeks before. Why does he want me to think that Danny isn’t important to him?

“So now what?” asked Danny, when they returned to their office. “Without funding we’re screwed.”

“I’m not going to let someone like Wigmore stop me! There are always people like him around. It’s a fact of life. You have to learn to deal with it.”

“You won’t have enough money to keep doing this on your own.”

“You’re right about that. Maybe enough for a couple of ounces. I’ll have to come up with more.”

“How? We’re talking tens of thousands.”

Jack gave Danny a hard look and chose not to answer. “Let’s see if we can identify Baldy. Find out who he is before scoring from Red again.”

“Back to the Black Water?”

“You got it.”

“Even if we do catch a member of the club with a couple kilos of speed, do you really think he would rat out?”

“How does that old movie go? I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.”

Jack’s voice was light and lively. Danny was learning. Jack’s cold, dark eyes said that he was anything but light and lively. Wigmore is right….

chapter nine

It was ten-thirty that night when Jack approached the entrance to the Black Water. His timing was lucky. Baldy came out of the bar in front of him and walked away in the opposite direction. Jack heard a short squeal of tires from the parking lot and knew that Danny had seen him too.

Moments later, Danny quickly pulled up beside Jack and passed him a portable radio through the window.

“Tell me you’ve had the surveillance course?” said Jack.

“That, I’ve had,” replied Danny.

Jack stayed behind Baldy on foot. Baldy was the cautious type and paused frequently to look around, but Jack remained elusive. Four blocks later, Baldy entered a dilapidated apartment building. Jack crept up the stairwell behind him and watched him unlock a door to a suite and step inside. He waited a moment, then got the apartment number and matched it with the name on the mailbox at the entrance to the building. Seconds later, he joined Danny.

“You get it?” asked Danny.

“Apartment 206. Mailbox says ‘L. Waschuk.’”

At the office, Jack studied a mug shot of Leonard Waschuk. Baldy now had a name. He also had a lengthy record for drug trafficking and was currently on probation.

Jack then discovered something on the police computer that made his adrenaline pump. Leonard’s last drug conviction was for a pound of cocaine. That investigation indicated that the cocaine originated from someone connected to Satans Wrath, but it wasn’t known who.

“So we’re two steps away from the club then?” said Danny.

Jack could feel the excitement in his body. “If I order enough to bypass Red and get to Leonard, we’ll only be one step removed. It worked with Spider. Tomorrow I’ll see if I can do the same with Red. I’ll pick you up after lunch. This time you’ll hide in the back alley to watch. If Leonard is stashing it there, I want to know where.”

The next morning, Jack lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. He had been awake for over an hour, but it was too soon to go to work. It was the time of day he hated. Being alone gave him too much opportunity to reflect upon events of the past. His telephone rang.

“Susan would like you to come over for lunch,” said Danny. “She wants to meet you. I understand if you don’t have time. We are pretty busy.”

Jack felt a sense of relief. He enjoyed being around families — especially complete families. “I’d be glad to come. I’ve been looking forward to meeting your family, as long as your kid doesn’t barf on me.”

A few hours later, Jack couldn’t help but laugh out loud as Tiffany squealed and laughed when he made blowing sounds into her neck. When he pulled his head back, her eyes flashed and she smiled and giggled in anticipation of more. He caught the sparkle in Susan’s eyes as she watched. This is a great family … lots of love.

Jack invited them out for dinner on Sunday night. It would be his treat. They were to include Tiffany as well. He was pleased when Susan eagerly accepted but said that she would prefer to get a babysitter.

Danny seemed less pleased with the invitation. He looked at his watch and said, “Shouldn’t we be going to work?”

Jack waited until they were in the car, then said, “What’s the matter? I sense there’s something you’re holding back. Are you upset with me?”

“No.”

Jack reflected for a moment, then said, “You’re worried about me buying dope without permission, aren’t you?”

Danny didn’t respond.

“I’m certain that nobody will find out, but if they do, I’ll swear that you had nothing to do with it. If you’re that stressed, then wait in the car and I’ll do it myself.”

“You would protect me, wouldn’t you?”

Jack was taken back. “Of course. We’re partners!”

Danny was quiet for a few minutes, then asked, “How much can you afford to buy?”

“Is that what’s bothering you? Don’t worry, I’m not that broke. I can afford dinner … plus an ounce and a half.”

“Think it will be enough to bring out Leonard?”

“Let’s find out. I have to stop at my bank on the way.”

“We’ll stop at my bank, too. Two ounces would improve the odds.”

Jack looked at Danny. “Thanks, but no thanks. You’ve got Susan and Tiffany to support. This is my fight.”

“Look at my damned hand! I’m in this fight, too.”

Jack felt good. It wasn’t the money. It was having a partner he could count on and trust.

On the way to the Black Water, Danny stopped at his bank and gave Jack the money. Jack was grateful but caught the guilty look on Danny’s face.

“Hey, have you talked about this with Susan? I don’t feel right taking —”

“Take it!” Danny snapped.

Jack accepted it but could tell that Danny was still troubled as they drove. He looked at Danny’s bandaged hand and said, “I really don’t mind you waiting in the car. This den of snakes, as you call it, there’s no real need for you to be there.”

“Yeah, except to cover your ass. Like you said, we’re partners. If you’re going to wallow in that filth, then I should be there alongside you.”

Jack smiled, then reached into the back seat and handed Danny a bag.

“Glad you feel that way. I got you a present.”

“A present?” Danny looked in the bag. “Coveralls and a box of latex gloves?”

Taggart stood in the alley behind the Black Water and studied the pile of garbage that overflowed the Dumpster. He adjusted a green garbage bag strategically on the pile. The bag was ripped and coffee grounds spilled out. The afternoon sun didn’t improve the stench.

Danny’s muffled voice came from within. “That’s enough! I can barely see!”

“Welcome to Intelligence work,” said Jack, as he walked away.

Red sat at a table in the back of the bar with a hooker as Jack approached. An untouched hamburger and fries sat on a paper plate in front of them. He heard them talk as he got close.

“Damn it, Crystal! I’m sick of waitin’ around all the time for those fuckin’ whores. I want the money on time. If they can’t make it, tell ’em I said to give you the hundred bucks and you can bring it to me.”

“Some of the girls said that it’s a lot of money to be payin’ you every day.”

“Tough titty. Besides, you know it ain’t goin’ in my pocket.”

Both women quit talking when Jack sat down.

“You lookin’?” asked Red.

Jack nodded.

Crystal knew that privacy was needed and she immediately left the table.

Jack told Red what he was looking for.

“Two ounces? No problem. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Red disappeared into the lobby for a minute and then returned.

“You’re gonna have to wait. Can’t get hold of someone. Maybe try again in an hour.”

“No problem. Let me buy ya a drink.” Jack wondered how difficult it would be to convince her to introduce him to Leonard. She didn’t bat an eye at selling two ounces. His chances didn’t look good.

Danny watched a hooker with a customer in the back alley. The customer stood with his back to the brick wall of the hotel. The hooker undid his zipper and got to her knees. Two minutes later the alley was empty again.

It was dusk when a young girl came down the alley. Danny figured she was between ten and twelve years old. She cautiously looked around as she walked. She approached the steel door at the back of the hotel, hesitated, then rapped lightly on the door. A moment later she rapped louder.

Red opened the door.

“Hey, Marcie! You’re here!” Red used a chair to block open the door, then stepped outside. She handed a hamburger and fries to Marcie and sat beside her on the step.

“Sorry it’s cold. Was expectin’ ya sooner.”

Marcie had already started cramming the food in her mouth. “No. Thanks! It’s great!” Between mouthfuls of food, Marcie said, “And thanks for lettin’ me crash at your place last night. Some guy was hasslin’ me in the park and I didn’t want to stay there, so…”

“Don’t worry about it, kid. Come on. Give me a big smile, that’s all I ask.”

Marcie turned her head and looked at Red. Danny couldn’t see if she smiled or not, but he heard Red.

“Ya call that a smile? I’ve seen dogs eatin’ shit smile better than that!”

Red pulled a syringe out of her purse. “Tell ya what. I’ll give you a little treat. Guaranteed to make ya happy. I hate bein’ around people who aren’t happy.”

“No, I mean I used to smoke sometimes, but…”

“Hey. Okay by me,” said Red, cramming the syringe back in her purse. “Just tryin’ to help. Speakin’ of which, remember I told you about the guy who pays big bucks for young models? I checked and he thinks he could squeeze you in for an appointment this evening.”

“Yeah, sure! That’s exciting!”

“Wait here. I’ll go check.” Red kicked the chair out of the doorway and the steel door banged shut behind her. Danny watched as Marcie looked nervously up and down the alley. He felt sick, and it wasn’t the smell of the garbage.

A few minutes later, the door opened and closed again as someone stepped outside. He recognized a hooker who frequented the hotel.

“Hey, kid, what are you doing?” he heard her say.

“I’m waiting for someone. Red. Do you know her?”

The hooker nodded, then sat beside Marcie and asked, “Is she family to you?”

“No, don’t have any family. Except for my dad. Red’s my friend.”

“You shouldn’t be down here. This isn’t the place for you. Where’s your dad? Bet he would be glad to come and get you and —”

“Forget that! He ain’t … touchin’ me no more!”

The hooker patted her on the back and said, “Sorry, kid. Been there. Know where you’re comin’ from. Tell you what, after the bars close, me and some other girls meet for pizza. My name’s Crystal. If you’re hungry or need a place to sleep, I’ll help you out.”

“Thanks, Crystal. My name is Marcie, but I already met a friend who —”

The rear door opened again and Red stepped out and stared down at Crystal.

“Fuck off!”

“Hey, I’m just tryin’ to look out for this —”

“I said, fuck off!”

Crystal stood up and headed down the alley. Danny heard Red tell Marcie, “You stay away from her. She’s bad news!”

A silver Acura slowly drove down the alley and stopped. It was too dark for Danny to see the driver or make out the licence plate.

“Get in the car, Marcie. This guy will take ya to your appointment. When you’re done, he’ll bring ya back. Knock on the door again and I’ll meet you.”

Marcie’s voice quavered slightly. “Can’t you come?”

“Sorry, kid. I got business to take care of. This guy is all right. He’ll take good care of you. No need to be afraid.”

Red rejoined Jack at the table. “Sorry, I don’t know where the fuck he is. Too bad you didn’t want a quarter-pound, instead of two.”

“Two is all I can afford.”

“That’s good. At least I know you ain’t a cop. They always have enough money.”

“So what difference would the extra two ounces make?”

“I know the people my friend gets it from. I’m allowed to go to them if my friend isn’t around, but not for less than a quarter. You sure you can’t spring for more bread?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Jack let out a sigh. He then thought about Danny hiding in the garbage. “Listen, Red, maybe I better split. I might come back tomorrow.”

“Let me try my friend one more time,” she said and went to the lobby.

She smiled when she returned. “You’re in luck, I connected. It’ll be here in an hour.”

Danny heard footsteps coming down the alley. They stopped beside him.

“It’s going down,” Jack whispered. “Supposed to arrive within the hour. Make damn certain nobody sees you or it will blow everything.”

“Christ! It’s about time! What the hell you been doing in there?”

“Just having a few drinks … a few laughs.”

“What!”

“Take it easy. Red couldn’t connect until now. Keep your eyes peeled for Leonard.”

“Take it easy? You sit on your ass in this filth and see how easy it —”

“Keep it down. Someone might hear.”

Danny listened as Jack’s footsteps faded away. A moment later, another steel door opened close to the Dumpster. Danny heard the sound of a busy kitchen. Moments later, two more bags of garbage were added to the pile. The person went back inside the restaurant and the alley was silent again.

chapter ten

Wizard eyed the girl casually. She probably hadn’t reached puberty yet. She had barely spoken a word in the twenty-five minutes he had been driving. Not unusual. Grown men were usually afraid to speak or make eye contact with him. He spotted The Suit’s car parked two blocks away from the motel. Always cautious, The Suit. Always cautious.

Wizard pulled into the motel unit. It was composed of individual cabins. It was remote, which was why Wizard had chosen it. He had given The Suit the key to the room earlier.

The kid became agitated in her seat. Soon she found the courage to speak.

“What are we doing?” She said it as a question, but Wizard knew that her brain had already told her what she was afraid was going to happen. Her brain was not that experienced. Nothing in her imagination could prepare her for The Suit.

“This isn’t for modelling, is it? There aren’t going to be any pictures taken for —”

Wizard parked in front of one of the cabins and said, “Listen, kid. The guy in there, well he only likes to look. He won’t touch ya. There could be a lot of money in it for you. He does take pictures but keeps ’em for himself. You got nothin’ to worry about.”

“I’ve heard of guys like that. He’ll put them out on the Internet or something!”

Wizard chuckled. “Not this guy. He’s so afraid that someone will find out about his hobby that you won’t even see him.”

“I won’t see him?”

“He wears a mask. He’s probably more afraid of you than you will be of him.”

“No! I think you better drive me —”

“I didn’t bring you here for nothing! Pay me fifty bucks, then I’ll drive you back!”

“I don’t have any money,” she whimpered.

“Then you either get inside that room and have your picture taken, or you can stay in the car with me and I’ll take it out on trade!”

Wizard started to undo his belt but stopped as Marcie quickly reached for the door.

“I’ll wait and give you a ride back after. Don’t try and fuck with me! I’ll be watching! Oh, and give him this,” he said, handing her a small flap of folded paper.

Marcie walked up to the cabin but glanced back at the man in the car. A street light cast shadows on his face, but she could see his goatee and knew he was watching. She knocked on the door.

She noticed the curtains move, and a man’s voice said, “Come in.”

Marcie opened the door and stepped in. The only light in the room was dim and came from a table lamp. She saw the man standing at the back of the room beside the bedroom door. He was wearing a mask of President Bush and had on a jogging suit.

“Lock the door!”

Marcie fumbled with the latch and locked the door.

“You’re late!”

“Sorry, it wasn’t my —”

“Shut up! No talking! I don’t want you to talk at all!”

Marcie swallowed but didn’t speak. From the sound of his voice, she guessed he was slightly older than her own dad.

“Take off all your clothes and sit on the sofa and wait.”

Marcie could feel her body shaking. She glanced toward the locked door but then thought of the man in the car.

“Hurry up! Are you trying to make me angry?” the man yelled.

“No, mister,” Marcie replied.

“I said no talking! Now take ’em off!”

Marcie thought about what the man with the goatee had said. He was the type who only looks. It made sense. He didn’t want her to undress in the bedroom. She placed the paper packet on the coffee table and started to take off her clothes. Her hands were shaking and she had trouble with the buttons on her shirt.

“You are a young one, that’s real gooood.”

She finished undressing and looked back at the man.

“Turn the light off and sit down!”

Marcie flicked off the light, plunging the room into darkness, then sat on the sofa and drew her knees up to her chest. The man grunted something and went into the bedroom.

She could hear him muttering. A few minutes later she heard the bedroom door open and close, then he walked in and turned on a lamp. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as she gawked up at him.

He was wearing only socks, shoes, and his plastic mask. He was a thin man with wavy black hair. There was no hair on his chest and his skin was creamy white. When she saw what he was carrying in his other hand, she bit her lip and began to tremble.

It was a leather leash attached to a choke-chain collar — the kind used to control large dogs.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to touch you,” he said in a quiet, soothing voice. “Let me move the hair back from your pretty face a bit.” He gently stroked her hair with his fingers.

Marcie quivered and drew her knees tighter to her chest.

“There, that’s a good little bitch. Sit still … that’s a girl.”

Without warning, he slipped the chain over her head.

“Mister? What —”

Her words were choked off as he savagely jerked the end of the leash and wrapped a loop of it around his fist. The chain bit deep into her neck as he dragged her onto the floor.

“Bad bitch! I told you to keep quiet!”

He squeezed the collar tight while whipping the end of the leather leash across her body with his other hand. She twisted and turned, her legs writhing as she clawed at the chain. Her fingernails broke and the jagged remains gouged her throat as she frantically fought for air.

The pain started to go away. She realized she was still lying on the floor and the collar had loosened. Her lungs sucked in air and she gulped it down like water. She began to sob, but the air exploded from her lungs as the toe of his shoe struck deep into her stomach.

“You’re not at all trained, are you? You need lessons!”

He jerked on the leash and began to walk and drag her behind him. She started to get to her feet but he yanked down on the leash, bringing her to her hands and knees.

Her scream was cut short by a kick to the side of her rib cage. The pain tore through her chest. Each breath she took caused more pain. She stayed on her hands and knees, looking down at the floor. She opened and closed her eyes, trying to see through her tears.

This isn’t happening! It’s my body, but it isn’t me! It’s only a dream! It has to be! He’s moving again … I have to keep up. It hurts so much to breathe … this isn’t a dream!

“That’s right, bitch! Walk on all fours!”

He started walking her back and forth and around the coffee table, then stopped.

“Heel!” he said, barking out the command.

Marcie stayed quivering on her hands and knees. He slapped her thighs with the leash and said, “On the floor!”

Marcie sat back on her heels.

“Keep your hands on the floor,” he snarled.

Seconds later, he started walking again, leading her on her hands and knees.

Marcie was breathing deeply. She could taste the dust rising from the carpet as it found its way into her eyes and down her nose and throat. Her arms and knees burned from being dragged across the rug. Then he patted the floor beside the sofa and said, “Lie down!”

He sat on the sofa for a few minutes, only to get up and jerk her around the room on the leash again and again.

Eventually he seemed to tire of the ritual and turned on the television. He sat on the sofa to watch. Marcie stared blankly out into the room. Her brain seemed to be turning off and on. This is all a nightmare. Wake up!

She watched him open the paper packet on the coffee table and tap out two lines of sparkling white powder. He got down on his knees beside her and turned his back to her and slid his mask up on his head. She could hear the sound, like a pig, as he placed a finger alongside his nose and snorted the cocaine. She turned her head as his bare ass touched her face. He then pulled the mask down and turned and patted her on the head before settling back on the sofa. She sensed that he was smiling at her from behind the mask.

She could feel the swelling in her throat and the burning sensation where the sweat running down from her head found its way into the open wounds around her neck.

He stood up and lightly tugged on the leash. Without thinking, she got up on her hands and knees.

“That’s a good bitch! You’re young enough to teach!”

He walked around the room once more, then led her into the washroom. He stopped in front of the sink and poured himself a glass of water. She stared down at the tiled floor. It felt cool and soothed her bloody fingertips and the burning sensation on her knees. She could hear him swallow slowly and smack his lips.

“You’ve been a good bitch,” he said quietly.

His voice sounded gentle. Her mind started to come back to reality as she grasped at the hope it would soon be over. At least he hasn’t touched me…

“Do you want a drink of water? Well, do you?”

She sensed that to say no would make him angry. She looked up and nodded her head.

“Okay, drink then!” He flung open the toilet lid and pointed inside.

“No!” she replied, shaking her head.

“You don’t tell me no! You stupid bitch!”

The chain tightened around her neck; her fingers instinctively clawed at her throat. She kicked out with her feet as he dragged her across the floor. He didn’t loosen his grip on the collar while grabbing her hair with his other hand and shoving her head inside the toilet bowl. Down into the water … out … down again.

Briefly, she thought the water was full of small black bugs, but realized it was only her vision clouding over. Seconds later, darkness engulfed her.

He loosened his grip and she became conscious and blinked her eyes as water dripped from her face into the toilet bowl.

“Drink, you bitch! I said drink!”

She felt him grab her hair as he dunked her head into the toilet again, before letting go. She lowered her face and touched the water with her lips.

“Lap! I want to hear you lap!” he shouted.

She made a lapping noise with her tongue. She felt his legs on each side of her rib cage as he stood straddling her. Pain shot through her side where he had kicked her. Automatically she squeezed closer to his opposite leg.

“Lap, you bitch!”

A condom wrapper fell in the toilet beside her face. “No DNA for you, bitch,” he muttered. She glanced back and saw him masturbating.

“Lap, I said!”

She turned her head back into the bowl and felt his legs grip her body while his hand twisted and pulled on her hair. Moments later he relaxed. She could hear the sound of her own breathing in the bowl.

Without warning he yanked on the leash, pulling her backward onto the floor.

She scrambled on her hands and knees to keep from being choked as he half-dragged her across the hall and opened the bedroom door, hauling her inside. Then she heard him say, “Okay, Cutesy! Come here, boy, it’s your turn. Now … be a good little bitch and lick him off. Go on! Blow him!”

For a second Marcie didn’t understand. Then she felt something cold and wet touch the back of her leg. She turned around and looked directly into the eyes of a German shepherd.

“No! Oh, God…”

The collar tightened, choking off her screams. She fell on her back and started kicking. The dog lunged at her, biting her fingers and then knocking her skinny arms aside to sink its teeth into her chest.

Moments later she could breathe again and started to sob. He ignored her as he led the dog up to straddle her face.

“Mister … please … don’t, please … I’m bleeding…”

He picked up a camera and there was a blinding white flash of light.

His words started to fade. “Okay, okay. That’s enough. He’s ready! Get on your hands and knees. Now! You don’t think I’m going to fuck you, do you?”

Wizard sat in the car and watched the flash of the camera on the cabin’s curtain. He thought about Damien and chuckled out loud. Damien despised The Suit and had no stomach for this. Being a family man with two young daughters has made him weak. The Suit is the key to success. Big mistake for Damien to let me control that key.

Wizard watched as The Suit eventually left the cabin. The Suit avoided eye contact with him and hustled down the street with his dog.

Wizard took a syringe out from under the dash of the Acura and walked toward the cabin.

chapter eleven

Danny saw a figure moving down the darkened alley toward him. Light from a dirty bulb farther down the alley briefly identified the bald head. Leonard Waschuk!

Leonard paused near the rear of the Black Water and looked around. Danny held his breath and watched. Leonard bent over and Danny heard the sound of a brick scrape as it was moved out of place. Moments later, Leonard hurried off down the alley.

Jack saw Red glance behind him toward the front entrance of the bar. She put her beer down and casually made a thumbs-up sign with her fist, while pretending to scratch her chin with her thumb. Jack pretended not to notice Leonard as he walked by. Leonard made a circle around the pool tables, then walked out the front of the bar.

Red looked at Jack and said, “Okay, sit tight and get your bread ready. It’s time.”

Jack nodded to the group of men playing pool and said, “Do you want me over there?”

Red grinned. “Naw, sorry about that. First-time customers. You know how it is.”

Red went to the rear door and pushed it open. Seconds later, she was back. Jack passed her the money under the table. She discreetly counted it, then passed him two baggies of powder. As Jack took it, Red said, “Shit!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Bart and Rex.”

Jack turned around and saw two large men slowly moving through the bar. They were scruffy-looking and wore jeans. Even the bouncer, who himself was a giant of a man, quickly stepped aside as they approached. One man was casually tossing a ring of keys into the air with his hand. They made a jingling sound each time he caught them. The noise in the bar died off to a few whispers and the sound of jingling keys.

“Who are Bart and Rex?”

“City narcs,” she whispered. “Bart’s the one with the keys.”

With his back to the two men, Jack slowly tucked the two baggies of powder in the elastic tablecloth under the table, then glanced behind him. He saw looks of fear and hatred on the patrons’ faces as Bart and Rex walked past them.

Jack heard the jangling of keys come closer, then stop behind him. He stared at Red, trying to read her eyes, then slowly took a sip of beer. He could see Spider sitting at another table with a junkie. The junkie let out a dry cough and put his hand to his mouth.

The jangle of keys started again, but on the second toss, Bart missed them and they fell beside Spider’s table. Bart stooped down to pick up the keys, but as he did, he grabbed the junkie by the throat with his other hand and hurled him backward off his chair onto the floor.

Rex immediately pulled out his gun while Bart sat on the junkie’s chest and choked him.

“Open your yap!” Bart yelled. “Spit it out!”

The junkie shook his head and gritted his teeth.

Without letting go, Bart used his other hand to take out the handcuffs hanging from the back of his belt. He flipped one cuff open to expose the serrated clasp, then jammed it into the junkie’s mouth. A small bundle of dope, wrapped in a condom, spit out from between the junkie’s bloody lips. Bart then dragged him out the front of the bar while Rex tagged along, his gun still drawn.

“Christ, I hate those fuckin’ guys,” muttered Red.

“Too damn close, if you ask me,” said Jack, retrieving the two baggies from under the table. “Think I’ll sit and have another beer and make sure those two gorillas are gone before I leave.”

“Yeah. Good idea.”

Danny had seen Leonard return to his stash and then hand the drug to Red. He waited for Jack to exit. What the hell is taking him so long?

A car came down the alley and stopped. Someone opened the trunk, and Danny cursed silently as he felt the weight of more garbage being thrown on the pile.

The waitress came over to Red and said, “Someone called and said to tell ya your package is here.”

“Yeah? Thanks. Send a cab around back for me, will ya?”

Red sipped her beer. A moment later she stood up and said, “Gotta go. See ya around.” She walked out the back door into the alley.

Jack wanted to leave as well. Danny would be fuming, in more ways than one. He decided to give Red a few minutes to clear the alley. She was paranoid enough without him walking out right behind her.

Danny watched Red enter the alley. She looked around, then strolled over to where he was hiding as a taxi rolled to a stop behind her. Has she seen me? She reached her hand toward the garbage. Should I pretend I’m drunk?

She shook the garbage and said, “Hey! What’re ya doin’ in there?”

What the hell should I say?

A girl moaned loudly. Someone is lying on top of me! Red shook her again and she started to wake up. Red stood back and said, “Oh my God, Marcie, it’s you!”

She half-lifted and half-dragged Marcie out of the Dumpster and into the alley.

“It’s a good thing I came along! Come on, get in the cab. What happened?”

Red got in the taxi with Marcie and the car disappeared down the alley. Danny was able to get the taxi’s number.

The door opened again. It was Jack.

“It’s about bloody time!”

Jack helped Danny stagger out of the garbage. He had sat for so long that his legs had gone numb. “Did you see Leonard?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, I saw him. But that’s not all that happened. Red set up some young girl by the name of Marcie. Only about ten or twelve years old. She’s really hurt. They just left in a cab. I got the number.”

“So did he stash it?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Leonard. Did you see where he stashed it?”

“Yeah, there’s a loose brick over on the wall, but this kid —”

“Where? Show me!”

Danny found the loose brick and pulled it out. There was a small empty cavity in the wall behind the brick.

Jack was pleased. “This is great! I’ve got an idea. With the amount I scored tonight, we better stay away from here for about a week. After that —”

“Forget the fuckin’ stash for a moment, will you!”

“What’s wrong?” “This kid! I got the number of the cab that took her away. I think we —”

“You’re worried about someone in this ‘den of snakes’?”

“This is different! This is just a kid!”

Jack gestured toward the bar with his thumb and said, “Everyone in there was a kid once. We can’t let ourselves get sidetracked over —”

“Damn it, Jack! Aren’t kids what this is all about? The girl that Red set up tonight … she’s about the same age that Maggie was.”

Natasha Trovinski treated her last patient of the night. She saw the child to the door and watched her leave in a taxi. Her patient left against her advice, but she was used to people ignoring her advice in this clinic. She returned to her office, straightened up the papers on her desk, and shut off her stereo. She was looking forward to going home and having a long hot bath. Considering this last patient, I’ll probably have a long cry at the same time. She took her coat off the rack as her receptionist walked in.

“They’re back. The two Mounties who were here earlier in the week.”

“He’s too early to have his stitches out.”

“It’s not about that. They want to talk to you about the girl who just left.”

She put her coat back on the rack. “Send them in.”

Dr. Trovinski quickly located The Marriage of Figaro and turned the stereo back on.

“Gentlemen! Come in and have a seat.” She looked at Danny and said, “How is your hand, officer? I hope you haven’t been … falling on any more glass?”

Danny grinned, then said, “No. My hand is fine, thanks.”

“Jack, I want to thank you for the CD. I also want to apologize for lying to you about being married.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“How did you know I wasn’t?”

Jack smiled, then said, “Trade secret.”

“What CD?” Danny asked.

“The one she put on as we were walking down the hall,” said Jack. He caught her blush and added, “We want to ask you about a young girl who just left here.”

“Her name is Marcie,” said Danny.

“I told you gentlemen before, I don’t talk about my patients. I extended that courtesy to you. The same goes for my other patients.”

“But we’re police officers…,” protested Danny.

“Most of my patients are not on very good terms with the police. If I talk, especially to the police, some of them would risk dying rather than come in for treatment.”

“I’m sorry,” said Danny, letting out a sigh. “I guess you’re right. Besides, she saw you, so I’m sure she’s okay now.”

Okay? That damned kid is far from okay! She watched Danny get to his feet. Jack remained seated, staring at her.

“She’s not okay, is she, doctor?” he finally said.

She stared back. She didn’t need to speak. The tears that flooded her eyes said it all.

“I deal with victims in my work,” Jack said. “You and I, our objectives are not all that different. You treat the victims. I try to eliminate those who turn people into victims. We just go about it from different angles. You have my word. Nobody outside of this office will ever know that we have talked to you. I really would like to know what happened to her. Maybe I can do something to help or to prevent someone else from getting hurt.”

Danny looked at Jack. What did he really mean when he said eliminate?

The doctor stared at Jack for a moment, then quietly said to Danny, “You better sit down. This will take a few minutes.

She waited until Danny sat down and then looked at Jack. “Marcie has recently become a street kid. Except for a grandmother in a nursing home, the only relative she has is her father. Although she wouldn’t come right out and say it, I strongly suspect that her father carried on an incestuous relationship with her. Tonight she told me that she went to sleep under someone’s porch when she was attacked by a dog and repeatedly bitten. She said that the dog’s chain got wrapped around her neck and she almost strangled. She said she got her hands on her first fix of heroin tonight, to ease the pain.”

“So that’s what happened,” said Danny. “And someone dropped her off in an alley after she fixed.”

Her reply was laced with anger. “That is not what happened! There was a woman with her. Long dyed red hair and tattoos. I wanted to speak to Marcie alone, but she insisted that her friend had to be with her.”

“I’m acquainted with her … companion,” said Jack.

“Marcie was coached. She looked at her so-called friend for every response.”

“Did you treat her for animal bites?” asked Jack.

“It was evident from the eye teeth that they were animal bites. I treated her for bite marks on her fingers, breast, and thigh, but her clothes weren’t punctured or torn.”

“Sexual perversion with a dog,” said Jack quietly.

“That’s my guess. And you can bet she didn’t inject herself, either. The injection site was on her right arm. She’s right-handed, so the likely location should have been on her left arm.”

Danny felt nauseous. He thought of Tiffany. If someone did that to her… He waited until they left the clinic before turning to Jack and asking, “What can we do about this?”

“There is nothing we can do right now.”

“She’s just a kid, for Christ’s sake. We’ve got —”

“There’s lots of kids like Marcie. Social workers are always on the street trying to convince them to accept help. It’s not easy. Even if we take Red out of the picture, there will always be someone else to take her place. All we can do is wait for an opportunity.”

“What kind of opportunity?”

“I don’t know yet, but as far as Red goes, she told me that she can deal with Leonard’s connection if he isn’t around. Providing the quantity is a quarter-pound or more.”

“So?”

“So for now it would be better if we dispose of Leonard.”

“Dispose of Leonard? What do you…?”

Danny was interrupted when Dr. Trovinski caught up to them and said, “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I’m off shift now. Would you mind walking me to my car?”

They walked in silence to her car. She unlocked her door and then looked at Jack and blurted, “Would you like to have dinner with me? I’m off on Sunday. I know it’s short notice, but that’s the only day off I have for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” said Jack. “I already have a commitment for Sunday.”

“Bring her along!” said Danny. “Make it a foursome.”

“I was taking Danny and his wife, Susan, to a little Italian restaurant. A family-run place. The food is excellent. If you would like to join us…”

“You don’t mind?” she asked.

“Doctor, I don’t mind at all!”

“My name is Natasha. Please, no more ‘doctor’ bullshit.”

Danny noticed that their eyes came more alive as they looked at each other. Jack is right. If you pay attention, you can tell a lot from people’s eyes. Wished I paid more attention to Jack’s eyes when he talked about disposing of Leonard….

chapter twelve

Marcie locked the bathroom door and eased herself into the bathtub. Steam rose from the water. She closed her eyes for a moment and gritted her teeth. In the other room, Red turned on the stereo, and it blasted out heavy metal. Marcie could feel the vibrations of the music when she laid her head back on the ceramic tiles.

She sat up and with a facecloth gently scrubbed her body with soap and rinsed in the hot water. Then she scrubbed herself again, rubbing harder.

Then she felt it. Slowly at first. Like lice, crawling over her body. She examined her skin. There was nothing there.

She started over, using a hand brush, feverishly washing herself. Her skin became raw and red. The bandages on her fingers became soggy and fell off. Blood seeped through the dressing on her chest. She stopped washing. She didn’t feel any cleaner. She sat for a moment with her arms at her side, and then she cried.

She stayed in the bathtub until the coldness of the water brought her back to reality. Then she wrapped the damp bandages back over her fingers and went to her room and put on jeans and a loose-fitting shirt. She eased herself down on a mattress on the floor. There were no sheets and the mattress was dirty and badly stained. She started to shake and curled up in the fetal position.

Moments later, Red walked into the room. She sat down on the edge of the mattress and gently brushed the hair back from Marcie’s eyes.

“I’m so, so sorry, baby. I had no idea this guy would hurt you. You’ve got to believe me.”

Marcie didn’t respond.

“I’ll tell you what, you won’t have to do this kinda stuff ever again. You just stay here and rest for as long as ya want. I’ll take good care of ya! You’ll see!”

She closed her eyes and drifted in and out of sleep. Suddenly, he was back! Wearing the same mask and holding the leash in one hand. He was naked, except for his shoes. He walked toward her, rattling the silver chain on the end of the leash. “Okay, Cutesy…” His dog was at his side.

She tried to yell, but no sound would come out. The dog’s lips pulled back over its gums as it snarled, its hot breath on her face. Then it shook its head, flinging saliva across her cheek and mouth. Claws scratched her skin. She screamed and sat up.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” said Red, sitting on the edge of the mattress, hugging her tight. “You’re just havin’ a bad dream. It’s okay.”

She opened her eyes. There was daylight in the room. She looked at the bandages around her fingers. “It’s not a dream!” she cried.

“Just lie here, baby, everything will be okay,” said Red, easing her down on the mattress. “I’ll get ya somethin’ that’ll make ya forget. You’ll feel better,” she added, as she left the room.

Seconds later, Red was back. She smiled as she kneeled down beside her. A small piece of surgical hose dangled from her hand, along with a syringe. Red put them both on the floor.

“Just lie still,” she said softly. “Close your eyes. Soon you’ll feel real good.”

Red tied the hose tightly around her arm, slightly above her elbow. Marcie lay there, staring up at Red’s face. Red picked the syringe up off the floor, then smiled at her while gently brushing the hair back from her face. “This ain’t gonna hurt a bit, baby, you’ll see. It’ll help ya.”

Marcie watched Red put the needle over a vein in the crook of her elbow. Her skin resisted slightly before relenting. Marcie turned her head as the needle entered her body. Instantly she felt warm all over. Then she felt sick and scrambled to the washroom.

“It’s okay, baby!” yelled Red from the bedroom. “Lots of people puke the first time or two. Don’t worry, ya get use to it real quick. After that, it feels good, you’ll see.”

Marcie woke up in her bedroom. She felt so tired. She tried to get up off the mattress but couldn’t. She slept some more. Red came in and sat beside her, smiling, brushing the hair back from her eyes. She felt the hose around her arm again and shook her head.

“No, Red,” she murmured, “it makes me puke.”

Red smiled, shaking her head. “Not this time, baby, not this time.”

She felt the needle slip under her skin. It didn’t hurt this time, and she didn’t feel sick. Red was right. She felt like she was floating on air. Her whole body felt good, really good. For the first time in her life she was truly happy. No pain. No dog. No Daddy. No more anything. The restaurant was crowded, so Danny stood up and waved to Jack and Natasha when they arrived. They were both laughing and laughed louder when they looked at him.

Danny introduced Susan, and the two women greeted each other warmly.

“So what was that all about?” Danny asked. “When you came in, I had the feeling that the two of you were talking about me.”

“We were,” said Jack.

“Jack! That was supposed to be confidential!” said Natasha.

“Okay, out with it!” said Danny, flicking his fingers to emphasize his demand.

Jack grinned, then said, “Well, I’m sure that Natasha here, being a doctor, had the utmost professional concern when she asked me if I had ever spoken to you about your problem.”

“His problem?” Susan leaned forward. “You mean about his hand?”

“No, not that,” said Jack. “She asked me if I had ever spoken to him about his BO.”

“BO?” asked Susan.

“Body odour,” said Jack. “She’s only met your husband twice before tonight. The first time he smelled of urine. The second time he smelled like garbage!”

“Hey! That’s from working with you! I don’t smell….”

Danny’s protest was drowned out by the laughter of his three dinner companions.

“Think what I have to put up with,” said Susan. “I have to sleep with him!”

Jack ordered the cannelloni. Natasha and Danny did likewise. Susan ordered linguini of the sea. It came with scallops, prawns, and clams.

The food was delicious, and the evening went by quickly. Perhaps too quickly, thought Danny. Tomorrow I have to call Wigmore. He waited until Susan and Natasha went to the ladies’ room before talking work.

“So, what’s next? Are we going to the Black Water tomorrow?”

“No. Give it a few days. Make them think I’m busy selling the speed I bought.”

“What about Marcie? I think I should try to convince her to go to Social Services.”

“Do that and you’ll blow your cover. If what she has just been through doesn’t convince her to leave, nothing you say will.”

“Maybe I should call them myself. It bothers me thinking about her.”

“I feel the same way, but now is not the time. With what she has been through, she probably won’t be downtown for a week or so. She’ll be going through the honeymoon phase with Red, or someone else she thinks is her friend.”

“Honeymoon phase?”

“Someone will be extra nice to her and try to earn her trust, or at least get her to be dependent upon them. Once we dispose of Leonard I’ll figure out how to bypass Red. Then we won’t be at the bar and you can take your chances with Marcie.”

“How the hell do you expect to come up with the money to buy quantity? Not to mention disposing of Leonard?”

“I’ll figure something out,” said Jack. He then changed the subject as Susan and Natasha returned. Danny had the feeling that Jack had already figured something out.

A couple with two children sat at a nearby table. Natasha caught the silent reflection on Jack’s face.

“You come from a big family, Jack?”

“No. I just have a sister and brother-in-law who live on a farm outside the city.”

“Sounds nice. Do they have children?”

“No. Would you please pass the garlic toast?”

“You still have some on your plate. I take it you’re the private type and don’t like to talk about your family?”

“Not tonight.” Jack quickly looked around the room and said, “Excuse me, I have to go the men’s room.” The table shook, slopping wine from their glasses as he stood up. He didn’t stay to apologize.

Natasha looked at Danny and Susan’s faces. Danny was expressionless and stared down at his plate. Susan looked like she was about to burst into tears.

Natasha was shocked. “What did I say?”

Susan’s voice was a whisper. “Jack’s sister did have kids. A boy and a girl. They were murdered less than a month ago in an abandoned farmhouse up the Valley.”

“Those kids in the news? They were his niece and nephew?”

Jack washed his face with cold water. The solace he sought in the men’s room vanished as Natasha strode in.

A man at a urinal said, “Hey lady, this is —”

“I’m a doctor,” she snapped. “You look like you’re done.”

“I — I guess so.” He left without washing.

Natasha then approached Jack and put her arm across his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Susan just filled me in. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” He squeezed the rim of the sink with both hands, then splashed more water on his face. “It’s not your fault.”

She grabbed him by the shoulders and made him turn and look at her. His hair was askew and his face dripped water.

What happened next came without warning or reason … and shocked them both. Two people who had walked through that valley of death too often had, within themselves, suddenly unleashed a primal lust for life. They kissed each other hard and passionately on the lips. Passionately enough, for a moment, to block out the world around them. It was their first kiss.

chapter thirteen

Monday evening came, and Danny told Susan that he needed to go to the store. He used a payphone to call Wigmore.

“I made a mistake. Jack isn’t breaking the rules. I know I —”

“What the hell are you talking about! You told me last week that Taggart left his gun in the car and went in the bar to buy dope! Bullshit, O’Reilly! What are you trying to pull?”

“Nothing, sir. I saw him take off his holster, but I later discovered that he has two holsters. He switched his gun into an ankle holster. I just didn’t realize it at the time.”

“You also said he went in the bar alone. What have you got to say about that?”

“He had an informant in there and was just catching the person’s attention so they could meet outside. His informant is a little paranoid and Jack wanted to meet alone to start with.”

“The story I heard was that the so-called informant came about as a result of being caught with drugs — after you started working down there.”

“That’s someone else. That’s who Jack’s first informant tipped us off about.”

“Is that a fact?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I see. Well … all the more reason for you to keep me posted so that I fully understand what is going on. Dealing with informants is acceptable, but you are aware, aren’t you, that you and Taggart are not to do anything other than surveillance down there?”

“Yes, sir.”

Wigmore paused, then said, “Don’t wait until Monday night to call me anymore. It will be up to you to call me as soon as possible if Taggart is not obeying orders or following policy.”

“I’ll do that, sir.”

“Keep up the good work, Danny. I expect to hear from you soon.”

Danny felt a sense of relief flood over him when he hung up the telephone. No more weekly calls needed — as long as Wigmore didn’t find out what Jack was up to.

It was 8:15 Tuesday morning when Superintendent Wigmore called and spoke to the inspector in charge of Internal Affairs.

“Yes, we need to meet,” he said. “We now have two rogue officers to discuss.”

Mid-week, Jack and Danny started making periodic visits to the Black Water, but there was no sign of Red or Leonard. Marcie was not around either.

It was not until the following Saturday night that Red showed up.

“Where ya been?” asked Jack. “I’ve been lookin’.”

“I had other business to take care of. You want another two?”

“How long would it take to get me three? I don’t want to wait around all day like before.”

Red went to the lobby and then returned a few minutes later. “It’ll be here in about an hour, maybe an hour and a half.”

A few minutes later, Jack had a quick visit with Danny in the men’s room.

“Make your anonymous call,” said Jack. “I don’t have the money for this!”

Leonard cautiously made his way down the darkened alley. He took three ounces of speed out of his boot and carefully slid the brick out of position. Then he saw two shadows appear on the wall in front of him and he darted to the left.

Leonard had about as much chance as a baby lamb being jumped by a grizzly. Bart’s large, muscular hands compressed his throat while the force of his body simultaneously smashed him down into a puddle of water.

“Police! Open your mouth! Open your fuckin’ mouth or I’ll rip your throat out!”

Leonard automatically tried to pull at the hairy hands holding his throat. The grip tightened. He was stunned and blinked his eyes. A smear appeared on his lips. He had bitten the end of his tongue when the back of his skull bounced off the wall. His legs jerked a little as his brain told him to run before realizing it was impossible.

Bart sat on his chest, choking him. Water in the puddle slopped around his ears and up his back. His eyes bulged as his lungs fought for air. He blinked, then obediently opened his mouth.

“Move your tongue around so I can see if you’re hidin’ somethin’!”

Leonard moved his tongue.

“Never mind, Bart, it’s in the wall.”

Bart released his grip, and Leonard made a gasping, gurgling sound as air rushed back into his lungs.

Leonard was jerked to his feet and slammed back against the wall. He didn’t realize until later that the warmth he felt in the crotch of his jeans was from his own body.

Leonard was completely soaked, and a combination of fear and cold made him shake.

Bart barked, “Put your hands on your head and don’t fuckin’ move, asshole!”

Leonard watched silently as Rex removed three small plastic baggies from the hole in the brick wall. He squirmed a little when he heard Bart’s deep voice comment on the putrid odour.

“Oh, Christ, Rex! He shit himself! So help me, this job makes me wanna puke sometimes! An’ my jeans are wet from the knees down!”

Rex turned his head slightly away so Bart wouldn’t see him grinning.

“Next time, you do the honours. I’m gettin’ too old for this bullshit. What’ve we got?”

“I’d say about three ounces.” Rex waved the baggies in Lenny’s face and said, “Care to confirm this for us? We’re going to have it analyzed anyway.”

“I want my lawyer!”

Their moment of silence as they went through the papers in his wallet gave him a little more courage.

“Besides,” he added, “I don’t think you got reason’ble and proper beliefs to grab me in the first place! You’ll be lucky if my lawyer don’t sue you or somethin’.”

“Shut up, asshole, or I’ll make you eat your shorts,” growled Bart.

Leonard paled and stood quietly, looking down at his feet. Minutes later he was half-dragged down the alley and tossed unceremoniously into the back of an unmarked police car. His pale face became whiter yet when he was driven to an underground parking lot several blocks from the hotel.

“Where ya takin’ me? This ain’t no police station!”

“Relax, Lenny. We’re just going to have a little talk, is all,” said Bart. “But we’ll do it outside the car. You stink too much, even with the windows rolled down!”

The three men got out of the car before Bart continued. “You’re goin’ to tell us who you got this from.”

“Fuck you, I am.” Leonard looked around at the empty parking lot and said, “What are you going to do? Beat me? Go ahead!”

“Don’t be impolite,” said Rex. “I get real pissed off at people who are impolite!”

The conversation was interrupted when the police radio informed Bart and Rex that Leonard was still on probation for trafficking in drugs.

“How about that, Lenny!” said Bart. “Caught again while you’re still on probation. You’re lookin’ at doin’ some serious time!”

“Don’t care. I ain’t rattin’.”

Leonard leaned and stretched his head forward as Bart and Rex whispered to each other, then jumped nervously when Bart unexpectedly laughed.

“Okay, Lenny, you can go. We’ll keep the dope, but go ahead, fuck off!”

Leonard stood with his mouth gaping, looking back and forth at the two faces in front of him. “You’re gonna shoot me for escapin’!” he said, his eyes nervously darting back and forth.

“Naw, I ain’t gonna shoot you,” replied Bart.

“I can just walk away?” said Leonard in disbelief. “Just like that?”

“Sure, Lenny, just like that. I’d suggest you use what little time you have left to wash out your shorts so you won’t smell so bad at your funeral.”

“What do you mean?” asked Leonard suspiciously.

“Well, the way I got it figured is you’ve got three choices.”

Leonard stared at Bart without answering.

“Number one is you can tell everyone about the two nice narcs who relieved you of a few thousand dollars worth of dope but didn’t arrest or charge you.”

“I won’t do that! Everyone would think I was a rat! My life —”

“If we find the prints of your supplier on these baggies, we’ll tell ’im you ratted!”

Bart let this message sink in and then continued.

“Number two is you could just say you lost it or were ripped off. But I got a feeling that a low-life like you doesn’t have enough money to pay for this up front. So I think you still owe money … which means someone will be awful pissed off at you. In fact, they’ll probably think you ripped them off.”

Lenny’s head drooped down. “You guys have pretty well got it all figured out, don’t you?” he mumbled.

“It’s our business. Do you want us to spell out your third option?” asked Rex.

Lenny raised his head. “No, I know how the game is played. But if someone finds out I squealed … I’m dead!”

“We won’t tell if you don’t. But make up your mind fast because I don’t plan on hanging around here all night!” said Bart gruffly.

Leonard swallowed, and then said, “All right, I’ll talk. It’s speed. I get it from a biker by the name of Halibut. I don’t know his real name,” he said nervously, looking at Bart, “but he’s got a glass eye,” he added quickly.

chapter fourteen

“What’s the scoop, Red?” asked Jack as he sat down. “Last night was a waste of time.”

“My guy almost got busted last night.”

The word almost bothered Jack. “What are you talking about?”

“He said there were narcs all over. Bart and Rex in the alley and more of ’em out front. He saw them and split. We’re gonna lay low for a few days until the heat is off.”

“There’s always narcs. We just gotta be cautious or go somewhere else.”

“I don’t call the shots. Who knows? There could be some narcs in here right now watchin’ us. Best for everybody to tap it cool. Give it a week or so.”

“Maybe I’ll find somebody else. Maybe at a better price.”

Red laughed. “Don’t try and scam me. My stuff is the best there is, and I’m still sellin’ it to you the cheapest. If you have been lookin’ elsewhere, you know that I’m not shittin’ ya.”

Jack grinned and said, “Yeah, I know your stuff is the best.”

“I sometimes wonder why I’m lettin’ you have it so cheap. I think it’s only because of them big blue eyes of yours. Tell ya what. To make up for last night I’ll buy ya a beer. You can sit and chill with me for a bit.”

Marcie sat on her mattress and looked at a small swollen lump on her arm from the last needle taken an hour ago. With her fingernail, she scratched off a little piece of dried blood.

It had been two weeks since … the motel. If she could go thirty seconds without thinking about it, it would be a relief. She thought about her grandmother. She’s the only one who really loves me.

She heard the door open as Red arrived home. A moment later, she stuck her head into the room to check on Marcie.

“Red, I’ve been thinking,” Marcie said. “I’m gonna split out of here. Go live by my grandma in Regina.”

“What? What are you talkin’ about?”

“Well … I kind of miss her. I think I’ll go live there so I can visit her.”

“You ungrateful little slut! You think you can just walk out of here like that?”

“What do you mean? Why not?”

“What about all the money you owe for clothes an’ dope?”

“Money?”

“Yeah, money! You retard! Where is it? Go ahead; cough up with what you owe! Then I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do!”

“I thought, like, the speed was free?”

“Free? Like fuck it was free! Sure, I lent you some out of the goodness of my heart, but you damn well better pay me back! It cost me money! Besides, it’s not speed, you twerp. It was the big H. An’ that stuff is fuckin’ expensive!”

“Well, like, I thought I didn’t have to go to work, you know, since, because, you know…”

“You still mopin’ about that? It was only a dog! He couldn’t have had that big of a dink! You think you can just fuckin’ hang out here all day, while I pay the rent, buy your clothes, and put juice in your arm? Who the fuck do you think you are that you can just rip me off like that?”

Marcie looked up with her mouth gaping open.

“You want to leave? Fine!” said Red, shaking her fist. “Get up and get the fuck out there! Start earning me the money you owe! It’ll cost ya a hundred bucks a day for protection. What you owe me is above that.”

Marcie’s voice was barely audible. She started to get up and said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinkin’. I know I owe you, but…”

Red grabbed her by the front of her shirt and pulled her close enough for Marcie to feel the hot breath on her face.

“You’re damn right you owe me!” said Red, shoving her back down on the mattress. “And now is payback time!”

Marcie wiped some spit off her face with the back of her hand. She could feel Red’s burning glare as she slowly stood up and walked over to the closet. She trembled as she took off her jeans and put on the new clothes that Red had given her earlier. Mesh nylons, a miniskirt, and a tank top. The she slipped on a pair of high heels.

“Marcie! You better not be thinking of screwing off and rippin’ me for what you owe!”

“I won’t,” she squeaked, looking down as she spoke.

“Better not, because all you got for family is that grandmother of yours. Unless of course you want to go back to Daddy! What do you think dear old Grandma would say if she got all those cute little pictures of you and the doggie in the mail?”

Marcie’s face turned white. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t utter a sound.

Red’s voice softened. “Look, I’m not hard to get along with. I just don’t like the idea of anyone rippin’ me off. The guys I pay for protection? They’re all with Satans Wrath, and now you owe them, too. If you tried to fuck off on them, do you know what they’d do?”

Marcie shook her head, staring tearfully at Red.

“First they’d kill your grandma, ’cause she’d be easy to find. Then they’d track ya down and rip the guts right out of ya. There’s no place ya can hide. They got guys all over the world!”

Marcie didn’t answer. She stood, looking straight ahead, tears dripping from her cheeks.

It was late Friday afternoon, but Sid Bishop waited patiently and smiled warmly when Bart and Rex walked through the doors of the Department of Justice. Most people had gone home, but Sid was the group head of the department. He hated drug traffickers with a passion and was more than willing to wait and review the wiretap application.

Sid refused to admit it, but he actually feared drug traffickers. And the more he feared them, the harder he worked to deny that fear. It was a vicious circle. The harder he worked, the more he had to fear. He was also starting to drink more.

Bart tossed a large manila envelope on his desk. Sid waited until both men sat down before talking. “You said on the phone that this involves Satans Wrath.”

“It’s all in there,” said Bart. “Rex and I turned an informant. We’ve had him make a couple of buys while we watched to verify everything. He’s been buying quantities of speed from a guy who goes by the name of Halibut. Through our guy, Halibut has been supplying all the speed to the Black Water Hotel.”

“This Halibut is a member of Satans Wrath, is he?”

“He’s been striking for the club for two years. He’s still on probation, but I expect he’ll be getting his full colours soon.”

“Colours?”

“Yeah, his patch. The cutoff jackets they wear. Right now he only has British Columbia written on the bottom. It’s what they call the bottom rocker. Once he’s done strikin’, the full name of the club and their skull emblem gets sewn on, too.”

Without so much as a glance at Bart and Rex, Sid opened a large drawer on the side of his desk and removed three glasses and a bottle of Courvoisier. He told Bart to pour while he opened the envelope.

Eventually Sid looked up. “Nobody has caught any of these miscreants for a long time. If you’re successful, I’ll take you both out salmon fishing.”

Bart and Rex smiled and clinked glasses. It was no secret that Sid’s parents were extremely wealthy and had left him with a fortune when they died. Sid enjoyed life to the fullest. He lived on an acreage of oceanfront property northwest of the city and owned a cabin cruiser. Sid welcomed guests, and parties at his place were notoriously good. The haunt was secluded enough that police and prosecutors alike could unwind without facing the disapproval of a critical public. Bart was more than glad to be invited.

Last year Sid had contributed $20,000 to the Heart and Stroke Foundation. When asked why he still worked, Sid would say that it was for the sheer pleasure of putting bad guys in jail — a trait that Bart both respected and admired.

Sid told them that there would have to be some grammatical changes and rewriting of a few paragraphs concerning the reliability of the informant, but overall it looked good.

Sid was scheduled to start a trial on Monday but promised to burn the midnight oil and assured them that he would work on it over the weekend. If all went as planned, they should have it before a judge by Monday or Tuesday. Sid stared at the bottle of Courvoisier when they left. It occurred to him that he was beginning to despise alcohol as much as drug traffickers.

Damien sat at a table outside, overlooking the marina. He nodded for Wizard to sit down, and the waiter hurried over.

Wizard ordered a Grandview Island Stout. It was a local beer, one he preferred over the imports.

Damien waited until the waiter left before asking, “So what’s The Suit’s problem?”

Wizard shrugged indifferently. “Not a big problem. Just a rodent.”

“In-house or out?”

“Gnawing outside one of the striker’s houses. Halibut’s place.”

“Take care of it personally and be sure to advertise why.”

“Why me?”

“Involves The Suit. The fewer who know, the better. Use Rolly as well.”

“I want a driver.”

“That’s fine.”

“I’ll use Lance. He’s —”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t need to hear all the details.”

chapter fifteen

Danny walked toward the Black Water and saw Crystal talking to Marcie in an alcove. He stopped and pretended to tie his shoelace.

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” said Crystal, sounding angry.

“I had a burger last night at suppertime,” she whined.

“A burger! That’s no good for ya! Ya gotta start lookin’ after yourself better. Go an’ get yourself a decent meal, for fuck’s sake!”

“I can’t. I haven’t made any money yet. Red’s gonna be real pissed at me.”

“Fuck Red! She’s a bitch. You should move out and come live with me.”

“I can’t. Red won’t let me go until I pay up what I owe her. She would find me and —”

“Yeah, I know. I owe her too. But you’re only twelve years old, for fuck’s sake. You shouldn’t be out here.”

“I’m almost thirteen. My birthday is a week tomorrow.”

“Like that makes a big fuckin’ difference. They got ya hooked yet? Are ya usin’?”

Marcie looked down at her feet as she spoke. “I’ve tried it a few times, but I’m no junkie. I can handle it. I only use it, like, maybe two or three times a week.”

“Goddamn it! You can’t handle it. Believe me, I know! My little sister died with a spike in her arm. She told me she could handle it, too!”

Danny couldn’t hear Marcie’s reply, but he had no problem hearing Crystal.

“Bullshit! Soon it’ll be two or three times a day, then six times a day!”

Marcie didn’t respond. Crystal grabbed her by the arm and said, “Come on, I’m takin’ ya to buy you some dinner. You’re as small as a mouse. In fact, I think that’s what I’m gonna start callin’ ya. Mouse!”

As Crystal led Marcie away, she glared at Danny. He quickly stood up and entered the tavern. He saw Red sitting near the pool tables and took a seat where he could discreetly watch. He saw Leonard walk over and say something to her. She laughed and slapped him on the arm. Leonard then walked over to the rear door and disappeared outside.

Red stared after Leonard as he left. When the door banged shut, she held up her hand and cupped her fingers to her palm a couple of times as she waved goodbye. It was how a little girl would wave. It didn’t suit her.

Minutes later, Jack entered the bar as the sound of sirens came to a screaming halt in the rear alley. A crowd spilled out of the Black Water to see what the commotion was. Jack glanced at Danny, who gave him a subtle shrug. They joined the crowd in the alley. A police officer gestured for everyone to stand back while her partner radioed for assistance.

Leonard was sprawled on his back behind her. A profuse amount of blood had pooled by his mouth and the end of his tongue lay on his chest. More blood had run down from his forehead where the word RAT had been carved. Jack saw that the blood had stopped running. His heart isn’t pumping. He’s dead.

The crowd eventually started to disperse down the alley. Red caught up to Jack and tugged on his sleeve.

“Let’s take a walk,” she said. “Gotta talk to ya.”

“What was that all about?”

“Looks like he musta been a rat. Good thing someone offed him.”

“Right on. So what do ya want to talk to me about?”

“There’s gonna be some changes around here. Spider’s gonna be handlin’ most of the inside stuff from now on. He’ll be workin’ for me.”

“Spider? I won’t deal with him. Someone at his table got busted just the other night.”

“Relax. That’s why I’m talkin’ to ya. I’ll still come down here sometimes. With the amount you been scorin’, I’ll deal with you direct. I got a pager now. If I’m not around, you can give me a buzz. It’s the type that vibrates. Think I’ll keep it in my crotch, so call me often.”

They rounded the corner toward the hotel and saw Crystal and Marcie walking ahead of them. Red called Marcie over.

“What are you doin’ with Crystal?” she demanded. “You’re supposed to be workin’!”

“She just bought me some food. I was hungry.”

“Yeah? You got what ya owe me?”

“No. I just got here when she came along, so…”

“Next time work first and eat later.”

Marcie nodded her head, then looked nervously at Jack.

“Ain’t interested, girl,” he said, then looked at Red and added, “This kid looks pretty young. With what just happened out back, there’s gonna be a lot of heat around here.”

Red thought for a moment, then replied, “You’re right. You should be an investment consultant or some-thin’.” She turned to Marcie and said, “Someone carved up a rat out back. Fuck off home now. Give ya a few days off before comin’ down here again.”

Jack poured Danny another shot of Jose Cuervo and then leaned back on his sofa and put his feet up on the coffee table.

“So Bart and Rex must have rolled Leonard instead of busting him,” said Danny.

“I hadn’t counted on that, but it’s good police work. They were working their way up.”

“Yeah, but it was us who set him up. What we did got him killed.”

“That was a bonus. Except now we better give things a few days to cool off. His murder could attract some heat from the City.”

“Getting someone killed was a bonus?”

“Took out a rung in the ladder. Red is dealing direct with Wrath now. I’ll start buying more until I get to the kilo level. It’ll just be a matter of time before we find someone to roll over.”

“Yeah, like Leonard?”

“Somebody a lot smarter and somebody with more to lose. Someone on the inside. Leonard was small-time. He probably had a loose tongue.”

“Yeah, real loose. The end of it fell out on his chest. And where the hell do you plan on coming up with the money to buy quantity?”

“Thinking of Leonard gives me an idea. I still have those two ounces I bought from Red last time. I’ll use that to get money. All we have to do is —”

“You’re not! Tell me you don’t plan on selling that shit.”

“Christ, Danny!” Jack slammed his drink down on the end table. “You don’t know me at all, do you?”

No, I don’t. And that’s what scares the shit out of me!

chapter sixteen

Louie Grazia hung up the phone and pursed his lips while straightening his tie. Why did Assistant Commissioner Isaac want to see him? Isaac had a reputation for being both fair and firm. But he also had the power to make or break a person’s career at the snap of his fingers.

Maybe it wasn’t really serious. Had someone been in his office again? Isaac did have a quirk about his personal office. Louie recalled several months earlier when Isaac came in to work and found a small sticky mark on the glass top of his desk. No doubt someone drinking in the officer’s lounge the night before had gone in to use his phone and put a drink down. Isaac was furious and threatened harsh punishment if it ever happened again.

“Go on in, Louie, he’s waiting for you.”

Louie smiled cordially at the secretary, then walked across the plush carpet leading into Isaac’s spacious office. Isaac was seated behind a large oak desk.

Directly behind him was a stuffed buffalo head mounted high on the wall. The curved black horns and shaggy head gave it a majestic appearance as it stared out over the room. The men under his command had presented it to him years earlier as a gift when he was transferred out of the Yukon. Below it were two lances crisscrossed on the wall.

Isaac looked formidable. He was a big man who had a bushy grey handlebar moustache, thick grey eyebrows, and a horseshoe pattern of grey hair around a bald head. He liked to canoe, and his large, muscular arms handled this hobby with ease. His eyes were a deep brown that at times looked black. He was a no-nonsense type who expected nothing short of excellence from his subordinates. Those who didn’t measure up were transferred or forced to retire.

Beside a Bible on his desk was a picture of his wife. Several family pictures lay flat on the table under the glass. In front of his desk were several overstuffed brown leather chairs.

The curtains on the large windows were open, giving an unobstructed view of the mountains. The sun shining in cast a reverent glow over the room.

Louie recognized the long, serious face of Inspector Ted Nash. He was in charge of the Vancouver City Police Vice Section. Beside him sat Wigmore, whose much smaller office was across the hall.

“Good morning, Louie. Have a seat. I believe you and Ted know each other?”

“Yes, sir, we met once before, thank you.”

“Read this report Ted brought over and tell me what you think.”

Louie took the report. It outlined the murder of a Leonard Waschuk, who was found behind the Black Water Hotel three days ago. Damn it! What the hell has Jack been up to? Louie silently read on. Leonard was shot upwards through the lower jaw with a .22-calibre pistol. The end of his tongue had been cut off and placed on his chest. The word RAT had been carved on his forehead. Louie glanced at a colour photograph of the victim before reading further. A potato was visible beside Leonard’s head.

“A .22-calibre slug,” remarked Louie. “Professional hit. Very little noise and just enough power for the bullet to ricochet around inside the skull and turn the brain to mush. The potato was used as a silencer to make the weapon even quieter. With Ted being here, I presume the victim was a City informant?”

Isaac smiled briefly at Nash before answering, “You’ve hit the nail on the head! He was a methamphetamine dealer who purchased the drug from a probationary member of Satans Wrath Motorcycle Club. Someone who goes by the nickname of…?”

“Halibut,” said Nash.

“Ted tells me there were a few people in his office who knew he was an informant.”

“That’s right,” said Nash. “The two detectives who turned him in the first place, and maybe three or four others.”

“Why should this involve us?”

“Ted’s men had read a bulletin put out by our Homicide Section saying that they were interested in cross-matching methamphetamine. They called them to let them know what they had and that they were planning on running wire.”

“We’d just obtained a wiretap order on Halibut when it happened,” said Nash. “That was a couple of days ago. There’s been nothing on the lines to help us yet.”

Louie looked at Nash and said, “You think someone on Homicide let it leak? Would your men have given them Leonard’s name?”

“They didn’t give out his name to anyone, not that it would take a rocket scientist to figure it out. That’s not why I’m here, and I’m definitely not accusing anyone. This Leonard wasn’t the sharpest needle in the pile. My guess is he probably blabbed to his girlfriend or someone. I’m here because your Homicide Section said that your office is doing some work in the area. I was wondering if you had any sources that could give us a lead on the murder?”

“I would think Halibut would be a pretty good suspect.”

“He would,” replied Nash, “except he pissed on the side of one of our uniform cars that day at about noon.”

Louie caught the frown that Isaac gave Nash. He did not condone swearing, and there was little doubt that if Nash didn’t work for another agency, Isaac would have reprimanded him.

“The murder happened around suppertime,” continued Nash. “Halibut was locked up in the drunk tank then. He wasn’t released until the following morning.”

“How convenient,” replied Louie.

“This informant was involved in trafficking in methamphetamine,” said Isaac as he looked at Louie. “Your office does have some sort of … intelligence probe concerning methamphetamine in that vicinity. Correct?”

“Yes, sir. Project 13. Taggart and O’Reilly have been working on identifying the source of methamphetamine coming into Vancouver. We suspect that Satans Wrath is behind it.”

Wigmore smacked his hands together and sat forward in his chair. “Precisely,” he said, looking pleased. “And I understand that Taggart has an informant around the Black Water Hotel who recently supplied him with an ounce of speed. At least, I think that’s what his report said?”

“Yes, sir. That’s correct.”

“Taggart,” mused Isaac. “I’ve read several of his reports over the years. There’s something about him. He seems rather … intuitive.”

Grazia caught the eye contact between Isaac and Wigmore. There was little doubt as to who had sparked Isaac’s curiosity about Taggart.

Isaac sat back in his chair and smiled as he spoke. Grazia knew he was anything but relaxed. It was a simple ploy. To appear relaxed when you’re fishing for information. This makes other people relax, and sometimes things just slip out in casual conversation.

“Sir?” asked Grazia.

“I just can’t quite put my finger on it.” Isaac glanced at Nash and said, “It’s uncanny. He accurately predicts internal problems that criminal organizations will be having well in advance.” Isaac looked at Grazia, gave a small chuckle, and asked, “So what’s his little secret?”

“He is exceptionally astute, sir. Definitely the best man I have. He’s unique, innovative, a hard worker and —”

Isaac leaned forward, slapping his hands down on his desk. “Yes, yes, but there’s something else! Why is it that major criminal groups suddenly start killing themselves off once he starts to investigate?” His dark eyes studied Grazia’s face.

“Well, sir, it is easier to investigate a group that is suffering internal problems. Naturally a good investigator would strike while the iron is hot, so to speak.”

Isaac’s gaze remained riveted on Grazia for a moment, and then he leaned back in his chair and said, “Well, I’m sure you know your men. In any event, if this Project 13 uncovers any information that will assist Ted here, I expect you to cooperate fully.”

Wigmore smirked and said, “Well, considering that a homicide just took place, I think it would be prudent for Taggart to provide us with the full name and address of his informant. Perhaps the … informant is somehow involved.”

“Sir.” Louie looked directly at Isaac. “As a matter of policy, we don’t disclose the names of informants to anyone. It’s just not —”

“I really don’t need to know,” said Nash.

“Nonsense,” said Wigmore. “It would be good for at least you to know just in case the name surfaces in your investigation.”

“It is unusual,” said Isaac, “but under the circumstances, I fully agree. Who is the informant?”

“I’ll check with Taggart and get back to you on that, sir. I think he only used the source once because we couldn’t get funding.”

Wigmore coughed loudly, then said, “I just saw Taggart at his desk a few minutes ago. With your permission, sir, why not have Louie use your phone and call him now.”

Isaac gave a nod of approval and Louie called Jack and briefly explained where he was and what had transpired.

“No problem,” said Jack. “Hang on while I get the name from out of my desk.”

Jack ripped off an envelope taped to the back of his desk drawer and then held the telephone in the crook of his neck while sifting through multiple pieces of identification.

“We’re waiting,” said Grazia, with a noticeable edge to his voice.

“Sorry. Here’s a name. I mean here’s the name. Edward Trimble.”

Grazia relayed the information to Ted Nash, who assured everyone that he would never disclose it but would keep it in mind in case it surfaced in the murder investigation. Wigmore also wrote down the name and address in his own notebook.

Later that afternoon Bart and Rex spotted their target. It wasn’t difficult; he was wearing exactly what the tipster had told them. He also appeared to be watching everyone around him when he left the phone booth. Rex stuck the plastic radio receiver in his ear and followed on foot, while Bart remained nearby in the car.

Rex watched his quarry duck down an alley and retrieve something from an empty takeout coffee cup lying in a window well.

Bart’s radio crackled. “Bart, I think he just picked up. Ditch the car. Let’s grab this mother before we lose him.”

Moments later, Rex and Bart saw their target walk down another alley. Bart covered off one end of the alley while Rex hid and waited at the other end.

Rex crouched close to the wall. His muscles bulged under his shirt as he tensed in anticipation. All at once, his target loomed in front of him. Rex lunged for his throat. The victim’s eyes widened in panic and the mouth gaped open, but then he disappeared!

It was Rex’s turn to look surprised when the man ducked and left him grasping at air. He looked down as he sailed over the man and received a jab in both eyes with a pair of fingers.

Rex sprawled on the pavement, skinning both elbows. His target was doing an Olympic dash back down the alley. Rex clambered to his feet and stumbled after him, while wiping his eyes with his fingers.

Bart, peeking around the end of the alley, waited silently. There was no grab for the throat this time. Bart stepped quickly into the alley and buried one meaty, knuckle-bound fist deep into the man’s midriff. A belch of air escaped the man’s mouth and he collapsed to the ground as two baggies fell from his hand.

“Ya got ’im,” panted Rex, still wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. “Jesus, he’s fast!” he said, giving the man a solid kick to the ribs.

“He sure got you dancin’ in the alley like a wounded prairie chicken!” said Bart, picking up the baggies.

“The bastard poked me in the eyes! I couldn’t see!” he said, kicking once more.

Danny, parked down the next alley, held the binoculars to his eyes with one hand while eating an apple. He stopped chewing and chuckled when he saw Bart slam their quarry back against a wall.

Minutes later, Bart and Rex drove into an underground parking lot. Their quarry, whom they identified as Edward Trimble, lay slouched in the back seat. He was more than willing to cooperate in exchange for not going to jail. He admitted that he bought the speed from Red, who used to buy it from Lenny. He said Red now bought it from someone in Satans Wrath. Fast Eddy, as Bart called him, was willing to make more purchases from Red if they supplied the money. He thought he might soon be able to deal with Satans Wrath directly if Bart and Rex wanted him to. They did.

Danny leaned over and opened the car door and watched as Jack eased himself inside.

“You took a few good licks there,” Danny commented.

“Had to make it look real. They bought it. Money shouldn’t be a problem now.”

Danny started the car and said, “Where to?”

“My ribs are sore. Maybe stop by the clinic to check things out.”

“Check things out? What things?”

“Shut up and drive.”

“Oh, those things.”

chapter seventeen

During the next couple of days, Jack purchased another order of speed from Red. Bart and Rex were pleased. They were able to follow Red to a restaurant where they saw her meet with John Dragonovich, another striker for Satans Wrath, who went by the name Dragon.

Bart and Rex were delighted when Fast Eddy said that Red was becoming receptive to introducing him to her connection in the event she wasn’t available, providing that Fast Eddy was buying quarter-pounds or more. They told him they wanted two more small purchases from Red, then they would have him make larger purchases.

Marcie warily walked toward the car as it stopped by the curb and peered through the open passenger window at the man who was driving. The sun was low in the sky, and she squinted as she tried to make out his face while checking him out.

“Hey, mister! Looking to party?”

“Maybe.”

“Think maybe you’d like to party with me? I could show you a good time.” She tried to put some enthusiasm into her voice.

“Sure, little girl, you’ll do just fine.”

“You got your own place?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s okay. We can use my place.” Marcie held up a key to a room at the Black Water. A room Red told her to share with two older hookers.

“You look like you’re just a kid!”

Marcie shrugged, forcing a smile. “So? Do you want to party with me or not?”

“I don’t know. I guess you’ll do. But if I’m not getting a real woman, I’m not payin’ more than thirty.”

“Hey! Get real! The room cost me that much!”

“Take it or leave it. You look like you could use the money. Aren’t you hungry for a little food, or maybe somethin’ to get high?”

“Not that hungry!” Marcie turned on her heel and walked away.

“You’ll be sorry, girl! Next time my offer won’t be so good!” he yelled, speeding off.

She watched the car drive out of sight. Then she waited, pacing back and forth. She tried to make eye contact with the drivers of various cars as they drove by. Some would slow down to gawk. One car with three young men pulled over to the curb. They laughed and quickly drove off when she approached. She wondered what other girls were doing on their thirteenth birthday. Danny watched Jack say goodbye to Red and slip out the back door of the Black Water. He ordered another beer. Jack would be meeting with Rex and Bart so there was no hurry. An hour later, he went to the car on the second level of the parking garage. Jack was peering through the binoculars as he arrived.

“How did it go?” Danny asked.

Jack put the binoculars down and said, “Good. Scored from Red again. Bart asked me if I would be willing to testify. Explained the witness protection program to me.”

“They’ll be pissed if they ever find out who you really are.”

“I played along. Bart said just one more small score and they’ll start funding larger transactions.”

“Great. The sooner we’re out of here the better I’ll feel,” said Danny, while unconsciously massaging his jaw. It ached from grinding his teeth in his sleep.

“I know,” said Jack. “You don’t like working in this den of snakes.”

“Who are you watching?”

Jack passed the binoculars to Danny and he saw Marcie on the sidewalk a short distance from the hotel. He heard someone yell from directly below where they were parked.

“Hey, Mouse!”

“Cyrstal!” Marcie yelled back, then crossed the street.

Jack and Danny got out of their car and peeked over the edge at Marcie and Crystal.

Marcie was pleased that Crystal gave her a hug.

“So, Red has got ya back out on the street,” observed Crystal.

“Just started.”

“How much ya usin’ now?”

“I sort of did what you told me.”

“Sort of?”

“I only used twice this last week.”

“Twice is twice too much! Damn it, Mouse, if you can’t quit now, you won’t be able to by next week. Then you’ll be here until ya die! Which won’t take long.”

“Yeah. I gotta get to work. I need to make some money.” Marcie started to walk away.

“Hold it! Don’t go yet. I got somethin’ for ya!”

Danny watched Crystal reach in her purse as Marcie walked back to her. He couldn’t hide his sarcasm when he whispered, “Bet the bitch is giving her some dope just to help her out a bit!”

Marcie examined what Crystal gave her and said, “Oh, Crystal! It’s beautiful! A little glass mouse! Look! It’s got little beady eyes and black whiskers! It’s really cute!”

“Yeah, well, I wanted to give ya somethin’ for your birthday. It’s made out of crystal, just like my name, so you’ll think of me.”

Danny was shocked. “A birthday present?” he whispered.

“A real den of snakes,” commented Jack, as they quietly got back in the car.

Danny sat quietly.

“They should all be shot,” added Jack.

“Up yours. I get the point.”

“Good. We’ll soon be out of this neighbourhood. You can take a crack at her then. Doubt that she’ll listen to you, though.”

Wigmore received a call back from Vital Statistics. He wasn’t surprised. Yes, they had a record for Edward Trimble. He died of a drug overdose two years ago.

Wigmore reached for a file he had marked “Project Hotshot.”

It was Friday night when Jack paged Red and arranged to meet inside the Black Water within the hour. It was to be the last small purchase. Red said her connection didn’t trust her enough to handle large quantities yet. If Jack wanted a larger amount, she would have to bring in her connection. It was what he had hoped for. Bart and Rex assured him that they would have the authority next week to provide the money to make bigger purchases.

Jack and Danny parked in the parking garage and Jack went to the hotel. Danny waited a discreet amount of time before walking down the ramp toward the street. He had reached the ground level of the parking lot when a voice spoke behind him.

“Good evening, officer!”

Danny spun around as Crystal walked up to him.

“I’m not a cop!”

Crystal laughed and said, “Damn right, you are! I’ve been watching. The way you swing your arms says you’re a Mountie. City cops don’t take that much drill marching, or whatever it’s called. Not to mention,” she clicked her teeth before continuing, “you’re on a dental plan.”

“You’re mistaken. I used to sell cars.”

“Yeah, right! Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to tell. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Taking your yearly holiday to the Mediterranean?”

“Don’t I wish. Naw, I’m goin’ back east. I finally saved up enough to do it. I’m gonna go back to school. I want to be a social worker. Bet that surprises the shit out of ya, huh?”

Danny was momentarily stunned.

“Told ya it would shock the shit out of you!”

“Crystal, to tell you the truth, I think that’s great. I wish you all the best, I really mean it.”

“Thanks.”

“Why spend your last night down here?”

“Just hoping to convince someone to come with me.”

“Marcie?”

“Yeah.” Crystal looked at Danny and smiled before continuing. “I saw you spyin’ on us that day when you were pretendin’ to tie your shoelace. That was the same day that Lenny got whacked. You should have been in the alley catchin’ them instead of spyin’ on me and Marcie.”

Danny didn’t know how to respond and said nothing.

“It still pisses me off that you don’t arrest kids like her and get their sorry little asses off this street. Nobody seems to give a shit about kids.”

“I care, but —”

“Yeah, I know. Nothin’ you can do. It just pisses me off, is all.”

“You said it was ‘them’ who whacked Lenny. Who is ‘them’?”

Crystal thought for a moment, then glanced all around before saying, “I’ll tell ya what. I’ll give ya a tip, but promise you’ll wait until tomorrow before doin’ anything.”

“I’m really not a cop. I’m just curious. I won’t say anything to anyone.”

Crystal chuckled, then said, “God, you’re a horrible liar, but I’ll tell ya anyway. Red is the key. She knows who did it. She fuckin’ works for them.”

“Who is ‘them’?”

“I’m not that stupid. You’ll have to find that out through her somehow. Now, I gotta go. Nothin’ personal, but talkin’ to you makes me feel nervous.”

Crystal sauntered across the street. O’Reilly stared after her, then started to walk toward the hotel. After a few steps he realized he was swinging his arms. He shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced back at Crystal. She gave him the thumbs-up sign. Danny took one more look at Crystal when he reached the door. She was standing on the sidewalk looking around. Marcie was not in sight. Danny entered the bar and sat at his usual table.

A few minutes later, Crystal found Marcie working the street at the end of the alley that came out from behind the Black Water. Heat escaped from a large vent on a building and Marcie huddled close to it.

“Hey, Mouse! What ya doin’ workin’ back here?”

“It’s warmer.”

Crystal looked down the alley. “Yeah, also more dangerous. Come on. I got somethin’ to show ya!”

Marcie walked with Crystal over to the parking garage. Her wide eyes and open mouth revealed her astonishment when Crystal held up a set of keys.

“Crystal! Is it yours? You actually bought a car? Or is it…?”

“No. I bought it! Get in! It’s mine!”

Marcie quickly got in. “It looks great! I can’t believe it!” She giggled.

Crystal smiled while nodding her head. She started the car and backed out of the stall.

“Where we goin’?” asked Marcie, sounding excited.

“Just around the block.” Crystal drove down the street before glancing at Marcie and saying, “I want to talk to ya. I’m leavin’ tomorrow morning. Goin’ back to Ontario.”

“You’re leaving?” Marcie looked like she was going to cry.

“You can come with me! I’ll either drop you off with your grandma or you can come and stay with me.

We’ll get straight jobs.”

Marcie stared wide-eyed at Crystal and shook her head. “No, oh no, I can’t!”

“Why not? Because of Red?”

Marcie looked down and didn’t answer.

“That bitch! Fuck her! You don’t want to live with her! You can stay at my place tonight. I got a lot of stuff to pack but there’ll be room for you. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

“But what if they come after us? They know where you live!”

“Fuck them!”

Marcie thought briefly, then said, “No, Crystal, you go, but I better stay. Thanks anyway.”

“Why not? Look what they make you do! Those bastards! Get out now while you can!”

“Maybe in a few weeks I’ll leave. But right now … like, I still owe them money.”

“You owe them money? Bullshit! They say I owe them, too, but fuck ’em. Do you have any idea how much money I’ve paid them already? They always say you owe them!”

“But they’re everywhere! They’ll find you, and then somethin’ will happen to…”

Crystal arrived back at the parking garage and looked for a place to park.

“Come on, Marcie! Please come with me. Now! Before it’s too late. I’ll just find a place to park and we’ll talk about it. I don’t wanna be burnin’ up gas.”

“See? That’s just it. I don’t have enough money to pay you for taking me.”

“I’m not askin’ ya for any bread! I’ve got enough to get us there. It’ll be tight. We won’t exactly be eatin’ three meals a day, but we can still do it.”

“So, like, we could just go? Right now?”

“Right fuckin’ now!”

The car stalled and rolled to a stop. Crystal tried repeatedly to start it. Eventually the battery became weak and the engine wouldn’t turn over.

Marcie quietly got out of the car and walked away.

Danny caught a subtle nod from Jack. It was time to go. Jack had said they had the weekend off. He was looking forward to it.

Danny left the bar first. He heard Crystal crying when he walked into the lower level of the parking garage. She was trying to push her car into a parking stall. Danny helped her. She tried to start the car again. No luck. Danny checked the battery cables. They were well connected and the battery looked new.

“What happened? It sounds like it’s out of gas.”

“It’s got half a tank. It just fuckin’ quit,” she sobbed.

“Did you find Marcie?”

“Yeah. I think she was gonna come with me until this piece of shit…!” Crystal kicked the side of the car and then cried louder.

“Maybe it’s nothing serious,” said Danny.

“Yeah, nothin’ serious if ya got a regular fuckin’ paycheque,” she yelled.

“Give me your keys,” Danny demanded.

“Why? It won’t fuckin’ go! Marcie won’t fuckin’ go! I can’t fuckin’ go, either!”

“Give me your keys and I’ll give you my cell number. Call me tomorrow morning.”

Later, Jack listened closely as Danny told him what happened.

“Why not have her take the bus?”

“I suggested that. She says she has too much stuff that she wants to take with her.”

Jack sighed, then said, “Okay, I’ll pay half.”

“I wasn’t asking you for money.”

“If it gets her out of here, it’ll be worth it. The sooner the better. I’m meeting Natasha for lunch tomorrow. Call me later in the day and let me know if they can fix it and what it costs.”

“A second date with Natasha?”

Jack smiled, then said, “What? You keeping notes on me, Danny?”

It was dinnertime the next day when Crystal met Danny at a garage. Her car, equipped with a new fuel pump, was running smoothly.

She hugged him and gave him a kiss on his cheek and then said, “I hope your wife doesn’t mind.”

“My wife?” Danny asked.

“The lady watching us from that car over there. She is your wife, right?”

Danny chuckled, then waved at Susan. “Yes, she’s my wife.”

“She’s pretty.”

“Come on. It’s against policy, but I’ll introduce you to her and Tiffany.”

Susan gave Crystal a hug and wished her luck, then Danny walked her back to her car.

“What about Marcie?” he asked.

“I phoned her. She won’t go.”

“You phoned her? I thought you wanted to be a social worker! You’ve got to try harder than that! Go see her. Don’t take no for an answer!”

Marcie answered the knock on her apartment door. Her look of surprise at seeing Crystal was quickly overtaken by fear.

“What do you want?” she whispered. “Red’s just gettin’ out of the tub.”

“It’s fixed. It was just a gas thing. Runnin’ good now.”

“I told you on the phone that I’m not going.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Crystal, I can’t. You’re my best friend and everything, but I can’t.”

“Come on! It’s stupid to stay here!”

Marcie thought about Red and the big man with the goatee. She thought about her grandma and the pictures. No, she could never go back. She looked at her friend and slowly shook her head as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Crystal lowered her voice but the intensity of her words was clear. “Come on, Mouse! Walk out right now. Don’t worry about your things. Just leave. Come with me now.”

“I can’t. I’m afraid they’ll … I just can’t! You go.”

“I really want you to come with me!”

With a quivering smile she said, “Thanks, Crystal, but no. Except maybe for my grandma, you’re the only real friend I’ve ever had. Good luck.”

“You won’t change your mind?”

Marcie stared down at her feet, then shook her head. She felt Crystal’s hand on her shoulder and turned to look her in the face. Crystal was crying too.

“This is silly,” said Crystal. “Everything will work out, you’ll see! I’ll get hold of ya real soon! We’re friends for life, right?”

“I’ll always keep the mouse in my purse to remind me of you,” she replied.

Red, wearing only a towel wrapped around her, appeared behind Marcie. “What the fuck is goin’ on?” she asked.

Crystal was defiant. “I’m movin’ back east. Leavin’ tomorrow morning. Just seein’ if Marcie wants to join me.”

“Leavin’? Like fuck you are! You owe me money! So does this little bitch here! You’re not going anywhere until I tell ya you —”

Crystal’s punch caught Red high in the stomach. She buckled and gasped for air. Crystal shoved her back inside and slammed the door shut.

Red swore at Crystal from inside the apartment, but she didn’t open the door.

“See?” said Crystal. “She’s not so fuckin’ tough if she doesn’t have any of her goons around. Come on, let’s split. The both of us!”

“I can’t.”

“Marcie! Listen to me!” pleaded Crystal. “Ya stay here, and you’re gonna die! Believe me, I know what I’m sayin’.”

Red’s voice came through the door, “Marcie, you better get back in here, right now!” Seconds later, they heard the sound of cutlery as Red rummaged in a kitchen drawer.

Marcie looked at Crystal, then said, “I’m gonna go back inside now.”

Crystal grabbed her by the shoulder and said, “I’ll tell ya what, kid, in a month or so, when I get settled, I’ll phone ya. If you change your mind, I’ll send ya bus fare or whatever, okay?”

They wrapped their arms around each other and said a quick goodbye.

Marcie reached for the door, but Red yanked it open. She was naked and held a butcher knife in her hand. She pushed Marcie aside and stepped into the hallway. Crystal was gone.

chapter eighteen

The sun cast a crimson glow as it came up behind the Rocky Mountains. Crystal lugged her last garbage bag full of clothes out to her car. Her car was already packed, but she found room to wedge it behind her seat. She never looked back as she pulled out into the morning traffic.

She didn’t see the orange van that wheeled in behind her. Axle, a striker for Satans Wrath, drove the van, while his only passenger, Nails, sat beside him. Nails had been a member of the club for six years. He earned his nickname because nails were a tool of his trade.

Crystal pulled into a gas station and filled her car. She saw the orange van in the reflection of her car window as it slowly drove by behind her. Minutes later, she paid for her gas and was walking back toward her car when she saw the van drive by again. The two men inside stared back at her.

She fought to control her fear. Probably some past trick who recognizes me… She spotted a cellphone on the seat of another car. The driver was inside paying for gas.

Moments later, Crystal pulled back out into traffic. There was no sign of the orange van and she felt foolish for being afraid. By the time she eased her car off the on-ramp and onto the eastbound lane of the Trans-Canada Highway, the sun was glistening down the western side of the mountains, sparkling off the snow on the peaks.

The sun was directly in her eyes, but it was Sunday morning and the traffic was light. She accelerated and passed a semi-truck before switching back to the slow lane. Seconds later, she saw the orange van in her rear-view mirror.

“Thanks for dropping by.” Danny closed the door behind Jack and gestured to one of two sofas in his living room. “This is the new one. The other one needs to go upstairs. It’s a hideaway bed. Weighs a ton. Susan and I would never get the damned thing up there by ourselves. Have you had breakfast yet? We’ve still got the coffee on.”

“I’ve eaten. Let’s move this and then I’ll have a coffee before heading out to the farm. What about Crystal? What do I owe you?”

“The bill is in the kitchen. We can figure it out over coffee.”

Danny led the way up the stairs while Jack wrestled with the lower end of the sofa. Halfway up the stairs the sofa became wedged on a landing. Both men paused to rest.

“Did she leave yesterday?” Jack asked.

“No. She called me last night and said she was heading out this morning.” Danny’s voice sounded glum.

“You did a good thing by helping her. Why the long face?”

“I was hoping she would take Marcie with her.”

“You said she tried. What more did you expect her to do?”

“I told her to go over to Marcie’s and talk to her direct. She did, but Marcie wouldn’t go.”

“Doesn’t Marcie still live with Red?”

“Yeah.”

“Was Red home when she went over?” There was concern in Jack’s voice.

Danny chuckled. “That was the good part. I was going to tell you over coffee. Crystal gave her a knuckle sandwich and she backed right off. Too bad she didn’t do it a long time ago.” Danny saw the furrowed look on Jack’s forehead and said, “You don’t think that’s funny?”

The conversation was interrupted when Danny paused to answer his cellphone.

“Danny! I think I’m being followed!” The fear was evident in Crystal’s voice.

“Where are you?”

“Two guys in a van. They could be bikers. They watched me gas up and now they’re behind me on the freeway.”

“Where are you?” Danny yelled into the phone.

“I’m on a cellphone. Just coming up to the Willingdon exit. What should I do?”

“Keep driving. Don’t get out of your car and don’t hang up. I’m on my way. You’re less than ten minutes away from me!”

“Crystal’s in trouble!” Danny yelled to Jack, while jumping over the railing. The glassware in the dining room vibrated, knocking into each other.

Seconds later, the tires squealed as Jack drove through the quiet residential street. Danny sat beside him and tried to talk calmly with Crystal. She said that she was driving in the slow lane but explained that she had changed her speed a few times and each time, the van had matched her speed.

“Danny! They’re pulling alongside me now! What should I do?”

“Can you see them in your side mirror? Is the passenger window open? What about a sliding door?”

“Side mirror? The fucking passenger is practically beside me. His window is closed. The van doesn’t have a sliding door!”

“Then they’re probably not going to shoot at you. We’re only five minutes away. What does the van look like? Can you see the plate?”

“Oh, Danny.” Crystal started to giggle. “They drove right past! Didn’t even look at me.”

Danny heard Crystal laugh out loud, then she said, “I’m so stupid. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called. I was just scared after seeing Red yesterday. Christ! I even ripped off some guy’s cellphone…”

Nails turned in the passenger seat and looked out the rear window of the van. He held a small radio transmitter bought from a hobby shop. The kind intended for small remote-controlled airplanes. He nodded at Axle and then thumbed the control. Axle didn’t slow down as the explosion sounded behind them.

The bomb, wrapped in nails, had been placed to blow the gas tank up into the interior of the car. Normally death would have been instant. Nails hadn’t counted on the bags stuffed with clothes that Crystal had placed inside the car.

Danny heard the roar of the blast over his phone and the uninterrupted screaming that followed as Crystal’s car came to a stop in the ditch.

A fire truck, returning from a small garage fire, witnessed the explosion as it drove in the westbound lane of the freeway. The driver cut across the meridian, but the truck became stuck in the middle. It was close enough that the firemen were at Crystal’s car in less than a minute. The interior of the car was ablaze.

The firemen were using the jaws of life to cut open her door as Jack and Danny arrived. She gazed up at Danny for a few seconds, then died.

It wasn’t the smell of burnt hair and flesh that would forever haunt Danny. It was the look in her eyes. They didn’t express anger or fear. Only acceptance of death — and a look that asked him why he did this to her.

Jack put his hand on Danny’s shoulder and said, “Come on. Let’s get away from here before the media arrives.”

Danny felt numb as he threaded his way past onlookers who were getting out of their cars. The sound of sirens could be heard approaching in the distance. He waited until getting in the car before turning to Jack and asking, “Why?”

“If Satans Wrath let her go they would start losing control of the others. That’s why they didn’t kill her with an overdose or something. This is the same as Lenny. They wanted to advertise. Make sure everyone knows what happens if you cross them.”

“I killed her.”

“What?”

“I killed Crystal. I told her to go see Red. If she hadn’t, she would still be alive.”

“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”

“It is my fault … and you know it!” Danny’s voice cracked as he spoke.

Jack’s anger showed in his voice. “You didn’t know! If anything, it’s my fault.”

“Your fault?”

“I brought you into a world that you didn’t even know existed. The rules are completely different. Crystal knew the rules and took her chances when she went over to Red’s place.”

“But I sent her to Red’s! Looking back on it, I should have seen how scared she was.”

“You didn’t kill Crystal. She had her doctorate in street smarts! You’re still in kindergarten. She knew that. Ultimately, it was her decision to do what she did.”

“I feel sick, oh Jesus!” Danny said, while opening the car door and leaning out.

Jack put his hand on Danny’s shoulder, and when he finished vomiting, Jack gently pulled him back into the car.

Jack pointed out the window and said, “Uniform is arriving. Homicide will be here soon. You’ve got to make a choice.”

“About what?”

“You could tell them what you know about Red. Then they’ll interview her.”

“She’ll just tell them to fuck off.”

“I know. It would also heat her up. The narcs expect me to meet her and arrange a big score. They’ve probably got her phone and pager tapped.”

“What choice do I have?”

“Find out who did this ourselves.”

“What can we do that Homicide can’t?”

“Homicide plays by society’s rules. If you play by the rules of the world I work in, we might have a chance to get whoever did this.”

Jack noticed that Danny was starting to shake, so he started the car and turned on the heat. “I’m going to drive you home. You can call Homicide after.”

Danny didn’t respond as Jack pulled out into the line of traffic and slowly drove past Crystal’s body. It was on a stretcher and being covered with a yellow emergency blanket.

When Jack pulled into Danny’s driveway, Susan ran from the house. Jack saw Danny speak to her, and then they held each other. He thought about calling Natasha but knew he wouldn’t make very good company. Same goes for Liz and Ben. He would go back to his apartment and stare at the fish in his aquarium.

His thoughts were interrupted when Danny got back in the car.

“What are you doing?” Jack asked.

“I want you to teach me.”

“Teach you?”

“The rules. I want to know the rules.”

“Today’s not the day. You need time to clear your head. Go back to Susan. You’re lucky to have her.”

“She’ll be okay. Come on. Let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“I don’t know!” Danny yelled. “Just find out who did it! Go over and rip Red’s face off if we have to!”

“That wouldn’t work. You have to look at the big picture. Today’s not the day to —”

“What big picture?” Danny screamed at him.

Jack sighed, then said, “Sit here. I’m going to talk with Susan.”

Jack walked over to Susan and asked, “How are you doing?”

“I’ll be okay,” she replied. “Worried about Danny. He’s hurting.”

“I know.”

“He’s angry. I’m a little afraid he’ll do something stupid right now.”

“I’ll look after him. We won’t work. I’m going to take him back to my place for a talk.”

“You mean you’re going to get drunk.”

Jack grimaced. This woman has seen this picture before.“Possibly. He needs to vent. I’ve got a pullout bed in the living room if he needs to stay over.”

“He snores,” she said, then turned and walked back into her house.

Susan understood, sort of. She recalled the time Danny and a group of policemen had shown up at her house after the funeral of a murdered comrade. She had watched the alcohol slowly eat away at the tough facades on their faces. Everyone was polite, but the conversation was stilted, and she knew it was because she was there. She made an excuse to go to bed, and not long after she heard their emotions pouring out. Despite being a wife, she was still an outsider.

Right now, she felt angry and hurt. Why did he shut her out of his life at a time like this? She wanted to be with him, to make sure he was all right. This brotherhood of policemen that he belonged to … sometimes it seemed like others knew him better than she did. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him and listen to him say they’d always be together. She looked at Danny’s portrait and felt so alone.

The new bottle of Jose Cuervo was half empty. Danny knew it was the booze talking, but he said it anyway. “I want to kill whoever did this to her.”

Jack shook his head. “I know how you feel, but you’ve got to look at the big picture.”

“What the fuck is the big picture?”

“We’re not dealing with one rotten animal. This is organized crime. They’ve got about nine hundred professional criminals in our area alone. Do you think it would really make any difference to Satans Wrath if you killed a couple of them?”

“It would make a difference to me!”

“You’re damn right it would. You could end up in jail. Susan, Tiffany — gone! And for what? Satans Wrath will keep on going. There will still be other kids like Marcie and Crystal getting killed. You could lose everything and not change a thing.”

“So what are you saying? That we give up or put whoever did this in jail?”

“Putting one or two in jail doesn’t help either. In fact, it only helps them.”

“Helps them?”

“Jails are a great place for them to recruit more trusted comrades. Instead of getting weaker, the club becomes stronger.”

“Then what the hell can we do?”

“You either have to put dozens of the hierarchy in jail, which our laws aren’t geared for, or you need to gain control of the club. Crime will continue, but if you can control the higher echelon, you can make the club less effective.”

“And how do you expect to do that?”

“Turn someone on the inside. Once you have one informant, it’s easier to get more. Then you penetrate the higher echelon. The fact that they’re vicious killers is something we can use. That’s why we have to find someone in the club who is like you.”

“Like me?”

“Someone with a family who has too much to lose.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will when the time comes.”

“I can’t see any of them ratting out, unless maybe we put them in protective custody.”

“Their rules don’t usually allow that.”

“What are you talking about? Their rules? We use our rules, and that includes the Witness Protection Program.”

“For them, to break their rules is to lose respect. To lose respect means to lose one’s life. If that life is not available to take, then the rules allow for other lives to be taken. Every son, daughter, wife, uncle, aunt, cousin, and close friend would have to be protected.”

“That’s impossible!”

“I know.”

Danny thought for a moment, then said, “I’d kill them if they ever came near my family.”

“So would I. You have my word on that.”

Danny studied Jack’s face closely. “You mean it, don’t you?”

“Messing with a cop or his family is against the rules. I guarantee that the coroner would run out of body bags.”

“You’d do that for me?”

Jack became exasperated. “What the hell do you think? If you’re not prepared to do that, then the bad guys don’t respect you. You’re looked upon as being weak. It’s the law of nature. If you’re weak, then you die — or someone close to you does!”

“The bad guys know this?”

“The real professionals do. It’s not something that’s spoken about. If they respect you they should take that for granted.”

“Others feel this way?”

“Most long-time UC operators do. What we know, what we have been through, it’s like we’re all family. Organized crime can afford to lose a few soldiers on the bottom. The only thing keeping a lot of us alive is that they know we would seek revenge against the executive level for authorizing the hit. I don’t care if it’s some poor cop on the other side of the country that gets whacked; it’s a declaration of all-out war. Otherwise you won’t survive.”

“That’s one of them rules?”

“That’s one of them rules.”

Danny thought it over. What would Wigmore think if he heard this? He thought of Crystal’s eyes. He looked at Jack and said, “So this same rule doesn’t apply to someone like Crystal?”

“No. The rules allow them to get away with killing her.”

“Why?”

“She’s not family. Think what you said earlier, you would kill them if they ever came near your family.”

“What about your niece and nephew?”

Jack stared into his aquarium. He imagined that the eyes on the fish belonged to Maggie and Ben Junior. They were silently looking at him. They knew his promise. That was enough.

It was suppertime when Susan answered her door. She was surprised to see Natasha standing on her porch with a small bouquet of flowers and a bottle of Riesling wine.

“Jack called,” explained Natasha. “Said he thought you could use some company. I would have come sooner but I had to work. Thought we could order in dinner if it’s not too late.”

Susan hugged Natasha harder than she expected to. She felt like her body was about to overflow with emotion.

Jack crushed the empty pizza box and put it in the garbage, then cleaned up the coffee table and put the glasses in the sink.

Danny lurched back from the washroom. “I’m beat. Don’t feel so good,” he mumbled.

“I’m not tired, so sleep in my bed,” said Jack. “I put clean sheets on this morning and it’s closer to the bathroom. Think you might need it.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“The sofa pulls out if I need it. Get some sleep. I want to hit the street by noon.”

“Why so early?”

“I want you to borrow a car from GIS and talk to Marcie as soon as she hits the street.”

“After what happened to Crystal?”

“Especially after what happened to Crystal.”

“She didn’t listen to Crystal, she sure as hell won’t listen to me!”

“Use Crystal’s death to convince her. She’ll end up dead if we let her stay there.”

“She’s liable to tell everyone I’m a cop. I wouldn’t be able to cover you then.”

“I’ll only meet Red one or two more times. Then I’ll be doing business elsewhere.”

Danny mumbled in agreement and then wandered off to Jack’s bedroom. Moments later, Jack knew that Susan was right. Danny did snore.

He turned out the lights and turned the television on to the news channel. He watched as the news of Crystal’s death continued to recycle itself through the broadcast. He turned his attention to the paper fish. The light from the television cast an eerie glow on the aquarium. What if I never find out who killed you?

Perhaps it was the broadcast or the alcohol, or both, but he realized that his mind and body were spent. He could no longer focus and realized it was because of the tears filling his eyes and running down and dripping off his cheeks.

Eventually he drifted off to sleep.

chapter nineteen

It was dusk when Marcie arrived at the Black Water. She leaned against an air duct leading into the ally and watched indifferently as the four-door grey car with a microphone hanging from the dash pulled up to the curb.

Danny leaned over from behind the steering wheel and gestured with his finger for Marcie to approach the car. She sauntered over and opened up the passenger door.

“Good evening, officer, what can I do for you tonight?” she asked, giving a cocky smile.

“Get in the car, Marcie.”

She groaned audibly. “Vice? How do you know my name?”

“No, I’m not Vice. My name’s Danny O’Reilly. I just want to talk to you. Get in.”

“Are you arresting me?”

“No.”

Marcie glanced quickly up and down the street.

“Don’t worry if someone sees you. Cops talk to hookers all the time. Hurry up and get in. We’ll sit right here.”

“You got no proof I’m a hooker.”

“Get in!”

Marcie sat in the front seat and closed the door.

“So what’s this all about? How come you know my name? If you’re not Vice, what are ya, a narc?”

“No, I’m not a narc. I’m on an intelligence-gathering section with the RCMP. We’ve learned something that could save your life.”

The smile masking Marcie’s face was replaced by fear. She looked like the scared little girl she really was.

“Save my life? What are you talking about?”

Danny took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “We know a lot about you, Marcie. Who you’re involved with, what type of people they are.”

“I’m not involved with anyone.”

“What can you tell me about Crystal? Who killed her? Who was she involved with?”

Marcie gave a small, dry cough. “Crystal?” her voice cracked. “Is that the person who got killed on the freeway yesterday? I heard something about it on the news. I think she hung out down here sometimes, but I don’t really know for sure.”

“She was your friend, Marcie. Don’t you care about what happened to her?”

“I said I didn’t know her!”

“Three nights ago she met you here and wanted you to leave with her. Two nights ago she went to your apartment and asked you.”

Marcie’s face paled. “How do you know about that?”

“We know a lot of things. We also believe the same people who killed Crystal think you know too much. They’re going to kill you too.”

Marcie’s mouth twitched, then she shook her head and replied, “I don’t believe you! You’re just saying that!”

“Marcie! Please! Think about what I’ve said! Talk to me and I’ll make sure nobody hurts you. We’ll look after you. Think about what happened to Crystal!”

Marcie was silent for a brief moment, then slowly shook her head.

“If you won’t help me with who murdered your friend, then at least save your own life!”

“I can look after myself.” Her wide eyes and trembling lips revealed she knew she couldn’t.

“Come on, Marcie! Use your head!”

“I’m gettin’ out,” she said, opening the door.

“Marcie!” shouted Danny, grabbing her arm. “Believe me! I know what I’m saying!”

“Let go!” she wailed. “If I’m not under arrest, you can’t do this!”

“Look, think about what I’ve said. I want to help you, I really do. Take my card. It’s got my cell number. If you change your mind you’ll know how to reach me.”

Marcie reluctantly put the card in her purse and then got out of the car.

“Marcie,” said Danny, before she closed the door, “I hope you saved the little glass mouse Crystal gave you, ’cause there’s not much else left of her.”

Marcie’s eyes started to water, then she slammed the door and walked back to the mouth of the alley.

The hours slowly ticked by. Marcie stared at her watch to make sure it hadn’t quit. She kept thinking about Danny. Was he telling the truth? How did he know so much?

His face looked familiar. She was sure he had been coming and going from the BW. Should I tell Red? What if she thinks I squealed?

She took his card out of her purse and looked at it before stuffing it back inside. He said he’d look after me … but look what happened to the guy in the alley when he ratted out! She looked at the crystal mouse in her purse, then quickly closed it.

Almost midnight and still no customers. Typical Monday … when things are dead.

She saw headlights coming down the alley from behind the hotel. A dark-coloured pickup truck came to a stop. The headlights partially blinded her, but she could make out the silhouette of a figure gesturing to her from behind the steering wheel. She walked around to the passenger side, putting one foot on the running board as she stuck her face up to the open window.

“Hey, mister, looking to party?” she asked with a smile. Her smile vanished when she saw that the man was wearing a ski mask that hid all but his eyes and mouth.

She stood transfixed as the barrel of a shotgun rose toward her face. Abruptly, the shotgun jerked to a stop when it caught in the seatbelt harness.

The man pulled it free and Marcie screamed and turned her face as she started to tumble to the ground. The roar from the shotgun echoed up the alley as the truck careened wildly out into the street and disappeared.

Danny answered his cellphone. Two minutes after that, Jack and Danny pulled up to the curb a few blocks away from the Black Water. There was a telephone booth nearby, but it was empty. Seconds later, a figure crawled out from under a parked car and ran toward them.

Jack watched her yank open the back door of the car and clamber inside. She was saturated with urine, rain, and mud. Jack noted her face around her eyes. It was dry. The dirt and dust hadn’t been stained. As scared as she was, she hadn’t cried.

How hard has she become? Is she already like so many others down here whose brains protect them from their world by shutting out any emotion that causes pain? Completely incapable of any real feelings?

She looked out the back window of the car and then glanced out the side windows.

“You’re safe now, Marcie,” said Danny. “This is Jack Taggart, my partner.”

Marcie turned to stare out the back window. “Marcie! You’re safe! You really are,” said Jack. The gruff tone of his voice caught her attention. She looked at him for the first time, then said, “I know you! You were with Red a couple weeks ago! When that guy who ratted got killed in the back alley!”

“I was. Red doesn’t know who I really am.”

Marcie paused for a moment, then said, “You said somethin’ that made Red take me off the street for a while.”

“I tried to help. Sorry there wasn’t anything else I could do.”

Marcie stared briefly into his eyes, then her body relaxed and she held her head in her hands and wept.

Jack looked at Danny and said, “Let’s go to my apartment. She can have a shower and warm up while I wash her clothes. Then we’ll talk.”

“We could take her to my house. Susan wouldn’t mind.”

“No,” replied Jack quietly. “If things don’t work out, I don’t want anyone knowing where you live. It’s easier for me to change apartments than for you to sell your house.”

“Are we going to call Social Services?” asked Danny. “I’m not going with them!” wailed Marcie. “They got people in there who tell them stuff. I know, ’cause Red told me! You make me go there and I’ll just run away. I mean it!”

“Take it easy,” replied Jack. “Who do you mean when you say ‘they’? You said, ‘They got people in there.’”

“Bikers,” she sobbed, “Satans Wrath.”

He looked at Danny and whispered, “I believe her.”

It was two hours later when Marcie stepped out of a warm shower, wrapped a towel around herself, and peeked out the bathroom door.

“Your clothes are on my bed,” yelled Jack from the kitchen. “I didn’t iron them, but they’re clean. I just took them out of the dryer; they’re probably still warm. I also put one of my shirts on the bed. Put it on, too.”

Minutes later, Marcie walked into the kitchen. She looked flustered and gestured with her arms. She had rolled up the sleeves several times, but they still hung down to her wrists. The tail of Jack’s shirt hung to her knees.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Jack. “It looks better than the tank top.”

Marcie’s face flushed and she sat down at the table.

“How do you like your eggs?” asked Jack, opening the refrigerator.

“I — I’m not hungry,” she replied, sitting down at the kitchen table. “Thank you for washing my clothes. I was so scared I pissed … I mean wet myself.”

“So who tried to kill you, Marcie?” asked Jack, while dumping a package of bacon into a frying pan. “You said somebody took a shot at you. Do you know who it was? Did you see their faces or get a licence number of the car?”

“It wasn’t a car, it was a truck. It was just one guy. He was wearing a ski mask. I didn’t see any licence plate, but I think it was a black truck, or maybe blue.”

Marcie drew her feet up onto the chair and wrapped her arms around herself as she started to tremble. “I don’t know how he missed me. It was really close! It must have gone over the top of my head, just as I turned and fell.”

“Do you have any idea who it was?” asked Jack.

“No, but it was a biker.”

Jack and Danny exchanged a quick glance. Jack asked, “How do you know? You said you couldn’t see him too well.”

“Well, I just know. That’s who killed Crystal, ’cause she was runnin’ out on them. Red told me I was lucky I didn’t go with her or they’d have killed me, too.”

“Do you know who killed her?” asked Jack.

Marcie shook her head. “I don’t know. I hardly ever saw them. Just one guy. He’s really big and has a grey goatee. Red told me we all work for Satans Wrath. They charge all the girls a hundred bucks a day. She said they’d kill us if we try to leave owin’ them money.”

Marcie looked over at Danny and said, “Crystal did want me to go with her.”

“She liked you,” said Danny.

“She was my friend,” admitted Marcie, starting to weep.

“Try to relax,” said Jack. “I want you to tell us everything from the beginning. Why you left home. Who your relatives are. How you met Red. I want to know everything that’s ever happened to you, including things you’ve heard or saw. How much dope you’re using … everything. Understand?”

Marcie wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s gonna take a long time.”

“That’s okay,” said Jack. “We want all the details.” He looked at the frying pan and knew the smell of bacon wafting through the apartment would be hard to resist. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind on some breakfast? It’ll help warm you up.”

“Well, okay, thanks. Maybe a little,” replied Marcie, giving Jack a quick smile.

It was one o’clock in the afternoon before Marcie finished telling everything she could about herself, including what happened the night she was taken to a motel and what she knew about everyone else.

Danny went to the office and returned with two large photo albums.

“I want you to look through these pictures very carefully,” said Jack. “They’re photographs of every known member of Satans Wrath living in British Columbia. I want to see if you can recognize if it was one of them who drove you to the cabin.”

“If he’s in here, I’ll know him.”

Marcie turned just two pages before sitting up rigidly in the chair.

“That’s him!” She stabbed at the picture with her finger. “That’s the guy right there!”

“Are you sure?” asked Danny.

Marcie glared at Danny. “Of course I’m sure! I’ll never forget his face. Never!”

Jack took the book and looked at the picture. “Randy Bennett, alias Wizard. He’s the president of the west-side chapter.”

He thought about the significance of this. An executive member of Satans Wrath wouldn’t act as a pimp for some young girl or supply drugs to anyone who wasn’t a club member. Those jobs would be left for more expendable members. Whomever Wizard drove Marcie to meet in the cabin must be so important, or secret, that he wouldn’t delegate the job to someone else.

Jack looked at Marcie. How small and pathetic she looks. Life has dealt her a pretty dirty hand … yet there is still a spark of stubbornness in her. She’s not the type to give up easily.

“Good going, Marcie. I’m proud of you.”

“You’re proud of me?” She looked surprised.

“Yes, I am. You’re a fighter. You’ve been through a hell of a lot. Right now, though, I think you should go in there and get to bed. You’ve been through enough for one day!”

“What are you goin’ to do with me? Like, I can’t stay here. You’ve only got one bedroom. My grandma’s in a nursing home, so I can’t stay with her.”

“Trust me,” replied Jack, trying to give her a reassuring smile. “We won’t toss you out on the street. We are your friends. Real friends. I want you to remember that.”

Marcie smiled. “Thanks. For cops … I mean police, you guys are really nice.”

“Get some sleep; we’ll figure something out.”

An hour later Jack peeked in the bedroom and saw she was asleep. When he returned to the living room, Danny asked, “Do you think she’s honest about only using dope a few times?”

“I saw her arms when you went to the office. She pushed up her sleeves to wash the dishes. She didn’t have much in the way of needle marks. She told us about everything else, so I don’t think she would lie about that.”

“You made her wash the dishes after what she’s been through!”

“She insisted on washing while I dried. I think she wanted me to see her arms, to show she was telling the truth.”

“She’s a spunky kid. Most adults would be in a psych ward by now if they’d been through what she has.”

“She’s a tough little character. Pretty sharp, too. I also asked her if she told anyone about you being a cop. She said she didn’t. She was too scared.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe I can still give you inside cover.”

“I’ll meet Red tomorrow and try to arrange to meet her source later in the week.”

“So Eddy Trimble rides again.”

“A little longer, then he’ll disappear.”

Danny pointed toward the bedroom and said, “I still can’t help but wonder how she would have turned out if she had been raised by a real parent instead of a monster. I hope she’s not so screwed up now that it’s too late.”

Jack nodded in agreement.

“Too bad she doesn’t know who is supplying Red or who planted the bomb under Crystal’s car. Maybe it’s that Wizard guy.”

“I’m definitely going to take a personal interest in him,” said Jack. “But before justice is served on Wizard, I’m going find out who molested her in the cabin. From her description, it didn’t sound like a biker.”

Danny wondered what Jack’s definition of justice was. He cleared his throat and said, “She said something, that he called her cutesy, or something about, ‘Cutesy, it’s your turn now.’ Was he talking to her, or was he talking to the dog?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she knew. The guy was smart enough to avoid DNA.”

“Probably been busted before.”

“Maybe.” Jack leaned forward and whispered to Danny, “I don’t want to leave her here alone, so I’ll get you to return the truck. Don’t forget my ski mask. It’s under the seat.”

“Will do.”

Jack got to his feet. “Hand me that piece of paper with the name of her grandmother’s nursing home. I’m going to make a call.”

Moments later, Jack returned to the living room and looked at Danny without speaking.

“What is it? You look upset?”

“She no longer has a grandmother. She died in her sleep two weeks ago.”

Danny paused as the message sank in, then replied, “The poor kid. As if she hasn’t been through enough. We’ll have to call Social Services!”

Jack closed his eyes for a moment while massaging his temples with his hands, then he walked back to the telephone.

chapter twenty

Jack politely declined to join Ben and Liz for dinner but did accept a cup of tea while they ate. He knew that they could tell by his demeanour that he had something to say, so he said it.

The blood pressure immediately rose in Ben’s face. He shoved his plate back and stood up from the kitchen table. “You brought her here? Damn it, Jack! I told you on the phone that we couldn’t do this!”

He went to the kitchen window and looked out at Jack’s car, then turned to Liz. “She’s sitting in his car, right now.” He looked at Jack and said, “I want you to leave. You’ve got no right to be asking us to do this after what happened. Get her out of here!”

Jack stood up from the table and said, “I’m sorry. I thought maybe if you just met her…”

“What did you think you were doing?” asked Liz, wiping tears from her face. “Trying to replace Maggie?”

Jack sighed, then said, “This isn’t about you or Ben. It’s about Marcie. She’s been sexually abused most of her life by her father. She ran away from that only to be attacked by another pervert. She just turned thirteen and is living on the street and chipping heroin. If she doesn’t get a break now, she’s dead. It might already be too late.”

“Call Social Services,” said Liz.

“As I told you on the phone, it’s too risky. If you heard the news about the young woman blown up on the freeway two days ago, that was her friend.”

“The news said that was a prostitute,” said Ben. “You’re telling me that her friend was a prostitute?”

“Yes. Marcie has been working the street, too.”

“What? You expect us to take in a drug-addicted prostitute? You’re out of your mind!”

“I said she was chipping. It means she’s just starting — an occasional user. I don’t think she’s addicted … yet. That’s another reason why being way out here on a farm would be better for her. It won’t be so easy for her to get a fix.”

“But she’s a prostitute!” said Liz.

“She’s still a child. Since she was an infant, the only person she had to protect her was her father. All that bastard did was use her for his own sexual perversion. Now she’s on the street. Is it any wonder?”

Liz went to the kitchen window and peeked out at Marcie, who was getting out of the car. As Liz watched, Marcie approached a pair of geese. The gander felt protective of his mate and honked and flapped his wings as he charged toward her. Marcie ran back to the car.

“Doesn’t she have clothes?” asked Liz. “That looks like your shirt, Jack.”

“She’s wearing all her clothes underneath. Miniskirt and a tank top.”

“Has she eaten?”

“Not for a while, but…”

“You’re not bringing her in here,” said Ben.

“Ben! If she hasn’t eaten…”

“Liz! No!”

Liz thought for a moment, then said, “We’ll give her some of Maggie’s clothes. It’s the least we can do. She looks to be the same size.”

Minutes later, Ben and Jack each carried a box of clothes out to the car and put them in the trunk. Liz watched from the kitchen window.

Ben looked at Jack and said, “Sorry, it’s just…”

“It’s okay, Ben. You’re right. It is too much to ask. We’ll take our chances with Social Services.”

“Our emotions are really eaten up right now. She’s the same age and size as Maggie. It would be a constant reminder. Even their names are similar. We just can’t handle…”

“It’s okay, I understand. You’re right. I should have listened to you on the phone.”

Jack got in the car and slowly drove away.

Ben watched as Marcie absent-mindedly used her finger to draw a big unhappy face in the condensation on her window. He wondered if she liked to doodle. His eyes brimmed with tears. He turned and looked at Liz. She had seen it too. Their eyes met; Liz gave a slight nod.

It was late in the evening when Red walked into the Black Water. The music was vibrating from the stage, and she looked up at the young stripper.

Red yelled, “Hey, little girl! Why don’t you take off and come back when you can grow some tits!”

A few laughs from the crowd didn’t drown out the girl’s response. “Fuck you! I don’t see you standin’ up here!”

Red paused until she had the crowd’s attention before pulling her black singlet T-shirt up over her head to expose her bare chest to the crowd. “Because if I did get up there, cupcake, I’d put you out of a job!”

Red soaked up the applause for a moment, then replaced her T-shirt and strutted to the rear of the tavern. She casually looked around before sitting at a table with Jack.

“It took you long enough,” said Jack.

“Yeah. Sorry, Eddy. I got your page but had some business to take care of. Took me a little longer than I thought. So, are ya lookin’?”

“As a matter of fact, I am. Business has been going good. So good, I’m lookin’ for half a pound.”

Red let out a low whistle. “That’s a lot! When? Right now?”

“Not now. Tomorrow afternoon or the next day at the latest.”

“I don’t usually handle that much.”

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Too bad. I’m done fuckin’ around with this small shit. Maybe I’ll have to find someone else.”

“I can check with my man. Maybe he’ll front me four ounces at a time. Do it in a couple of deals.”

“Naw, as I said, I don’t want to be fuckin’ around. Two deals means twice the risk. Tell you what, put me in touch with your man and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“How much worth my while?”

“Enough. Depends how smooth things go and what I gotta pay for it.”

Red thought for a moment, then said, “Wait here, I’ll make a call.”

Red went to the lobby and then sprinted upstairs and knocked on a door.

“Who is it?” asked a gruff voice.

“Wizard! It’s me, Red,” she whispered.

Seconds later, Red was inside the room. Wizard, with his goatee and muscled arms covered in large tattoos, towered over her. Rolly was lying on the bed. In the corner of the room sat a third biker. A light behind him cast shadows down over his face. His forehead had a large circular scar from an incident years earlier when someone had caught his attention with the broken end of a wine bottle.

“Well?” asked Wizard.

“Yeah, he’s here right now,” said Red.

“Did he hit you up?”

“Oh yeah! Wants half a pound. I told him I’d make a call.” She looked at her watch. “And that was, like, not even five minutes ago.”

“Good,” replied Wizard.

“I think maybe I’ll cut his balls off instead of his tongue,” said Rolly. “We were too easy on Lenny!”

“Shut your trap!” hissed Wizard.

There was a brief silence in the room before Wizard continued, “So what’s he wearin’?”

“You can’t miss ’im,” replied Red. “Jeans and a red sweatshirt with a big white band around the chest and arms.”

“Okay, you know what to do,” said Wizard. “Give us twenty minutes to set up.” He flashed her a roll of money and said, “When you’re done, go home. I’ll drop over after.”

“Thanks, Wizard,” replied Red, casting one more quick glance at the man sitting in the corner. He hadn’t spoken a word the whole time. Then she turned toward the door.

“Red! One more thing. Make sure you keep your yap shut about this!”

“About what?” replied Red, smiling as she left the room.

When she was gone, Wizard turned to the biker in the corner and said, “Lance, you get the car and cruise the block until you see Red, then hit the alley.”

Minutes later, Red joined Jack back in the bar.

“You’re in luck,” she said. “My guy is a little nervous, but he said he’s willin’ to meet you, just to check you out.”

“Good. He’s got nothing to be nervous about. When can we meet?”

“In about twenty minutes. He wants to talk to me out front first. Give me about five minutes just to reassure him, then I’ll get him to drive me around back and you can meet us in the alley.”

A few minutes later, Jack gave Danny a subtle nod and they met in the men’s room. Jack explained what was happening, and Danny said, “Just in case they want to take you for a little drive, I’ll get the car and stand by.”

“Good idea.”

“Think it will be Halibut?”

“Maybe. Or some other striker. We’ll soon find out.” Jack returned to the table. Red left on time and headed out the front door. Jack looked at his watch and waited five minutes.

Danny sat in his car and watched from the parking garage. He eventually saw Red walk out the front door of the bar and approach a green Volvo parked nearby. The Volvo drove to the end of the block and turned into the alley. He caught the plate number and noticed Red walk back toward the bar.

Danny drove in the opposite direction and parked on the street at the end of the block to cover off the other end of the alley. If the Volvo did take Jack for a ride, this was the direction it would drive out. He radioed in the plate number. The name that came back wasn’t one he recognized.

An arc of light briefly cut into the back alley when Jack opened the rear door to the alley. He stood in the doorway for a moment before stepping out. His red sweatshirt blended into the darkness, but the white stripe stood out like a beacon. He saw a car drive slowly down the alley toward him, then stop a short distance away. He walked toward it, using his hand to shield his eyes from the headlights.

As Jack approached a Dumpster, Rolly silently moved in behind him, unsnapping a leather thong and removing his hunting knife from its scabbard while quickening his pace.

Rolly was in striking distance when Wizard stepped out from the Dumpster and said, “Hey! Eddy!”

Jack felt the adrenaline rush to his limbs as his brain told him to run. He tried to act calm and said, “Yeah? Do I know you?”

“Pest control!” Rolly snickered when Jack spun around to look.

Rolly brandished the knife at throat height and gave an evil grin when the lights from the car reflected off the knife and into Jack’s eyes. Wizard stepped forward and pointed a .22-calibre pistol at the back of Jack’s head. The headlights cast dark shadows on Wizard’s face as Jack turned and found the barrel of the pistol entering his nostril.

“Goodbye, rat!” hissed Wizard, as his finger slowly squeezed the trigger.

Jack chopped the inside of Wizard’s wrist with the edge of his hand, flinging the gun from Wizard’s grasp. It bounced off the side of the Dumpster with a loud clang. Rolly immediately plunged the knife toward the back of Jack’s neck, but Jack ducked while shoving two fingers into Wizard’s eye, and the knife glanced off his shoulder blade instead. Jack darted past Wizard toward the car.

“Get him!” yelled Wizard, scrambling to pick up his gun. Rolly ran after him while Wizard wiped his eye with one hand before raising his gun with the other hand. Then he hesitated, fearing he might hit Rolly.

Lance lurched the car forward, smashing the passenger side fender into the alley wall. The interior light went on as he stepped out of the car, blocking the alley. The snarl on his face further accented the scar on his forehead as he moved around in front of the driver’s door. His face didn’t look any prettier when his mouth gaped open as Jack ran up over the hood of the car.

A bullet ricocheted off the car’s windshield as Jack dove over the roof and continued running.

“Out of my fucking way!” yelled Wizard, running up to the car. He fired four more shots at the crouched figure zigzagging down the alley. His target ran faster.

Wizard held the gun with both hands and rested his arms on the roof of the car, aiming toward the end of the alley. Briefly, his target was silhouetted in the light at the end of the alley. Wizard fired one more shot and watched as the body crumpled and fell.

“Got ’im! Quick! Get in the car!” he ordered, grabbing Rolly by the arm and shoving him inside. He looked at Lance and said, “Back down the alley fast! Drive right over the rat-fucker! Make sure he’s dead!”

Lance stepped on the throttle, and the tires squealed as the car hurtled backwards down the alley. Sparks flew off the side of the car as it briefly scraped along the side of a brick building, knocking the mirror off the passenger side door.

Wizard and Rolly grabbed the dash as they tensed, waiting for the crunch of broken bones and the thump of a mangled body as the car bounced out of the alley.

As Danny waited, he saw Red walk across the intersection. Why isn’t she meeting with Jack?

His question was answered by the sound of gunshots from the alley. Adrenaline slammed through his body like a tidal wave. His car leaped out of his parking space, but the traffic was heavy and he had to slam on the brakes to avoid a collision. He fumbled under his seat to retrieve the red light to toss on the dash. He cursed as the cord for the light became entangled in the seat springs. Seconds later, he yanked it free and plugged it into the cigarette lighter. He reached for the hidden switch to turn on the siren.

Lance slammed on the brakes and brought the Volvo to a stop facing the sidewalk and entrance to the alley. The headlights picked up a puddle of blood and the smear of tire tracks where he had backed through it.

“I didn’t feel nothin’,” said Lance. “He ain’t hung up underneath.”

“You fuckin’ missed him!” yelled Rolly, clenching his knife.

“Out of the fucking car!” screamed Wizard, waving his gun in all directions.

The three men scrambled from the car and looked at the blood.

Wizard pointed to a trail of bloody marks along the sidewalk. “He’s gone this way, and you can bet he hasn’t gone far.” He stepped out on the street to look behind some parked cars.

“He’s got to be right here somewhere,” said Lance. “He hasn’t had time to make it to the end of the block,” he noted, while following splatters of blood to the edge of the curb.

The piercing scream of a police siren cut the night air, followed by screeching tires. The flash of a red light reflected off the wall as it approached the opposite end of the alley.

“Let’s get the fuck out o’ here!” yelled Wizard.

All three men scrambled back into the car and sped off in the opposite direction. Five minutes later, they pulled into another alley.

Lance retrieved a container of gasoline from the trunk and doused the car. He lit the rag on a beer bottle half-filled with a mixture of gas and oil and threw it on the car. Seconds later, the three men drove away from the blaze in another car.

“Get hold of the boys,” said Wizard. “I want someone at every hospital and clinic there is. If this rat-fucker doesn’t die first, I want him dead before some fucking doctor gets his hands on him!”

“Will do,” replied Rolly.

“You and Lance cover off the nearest hospital and clinic. Get reinforcements. Try and whack him before he enters. Be less witnesses to take care of.”

“Where ya goin’?” asked Rolly.

“Red. She’s a loose end. If the rat makes it to the cops, they’ll know she helped set ’im up. I’ll let The Suit know what happened, too. Just in case he hears anything.”

chapter twenty-one

The tires of Danny’s car screamed as he rounded the corner into the alley. There were no other cars in sight and he realized that the Volvo had backed out the other side.

He stopped briefly by the Dumpster and was relieved not to see Jack’s body. He jumped back in his car and continued on. At the end of the alley he saw a fresh patch of blood smeared by tire tracks. Fear ravaged his body as he slammed on the brakes and leapt from the car. His knuckles were white as he gripped his gun.

Seconds later, Jack crawled out from under a parked SUV. Danny helped him into the car, and Jack fell over on the seat and hit the switch under the dash. The siren stopped instantly. Jack yanked the light off the dash.

“What the fuck are you doing?” yelled Danny, scrambling into the driver’s seat. “You’re hurt! I’m taking you to the hospital!”

“No! I’m okay. They think I’m a rat! Let them keep thinking that.”

“You’re bleeding like a stuck pig! I’m taking you to the hospital.” Danny hit the gas and the car shot out of the alley and onto the street.

“It was Wizard and two others. I recognize their faces from the pictures but can’t remember their names. If you take me to a hospital or clinic they’re liable to finish the job. I don’t want them to know what happened to me.”

“Jesus Christ! I knew this would happen! You keep usin’ the fuckin’ alley — how am I supposed to protect you? Now you’re telling me not take you to the hospital! Goddamn it!” Danny hit the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road. “Turn around, I’m takin’ a look!”

Danny pulled up Jack’s sweatshirt and he yelped in pain.

“You’ve been stabbed in the back!”

“Did you teach them that?”

“Jesus Christ! Your arm! Looks like a bullet hole! You’ve been shot, too!”

“Went clean through. Lucky break.”

“Yeah, you’re real fuckin’ lucky,” said Danny sarcastically. “I’m taking you in. Then I’m calling in the troops and we’re going to find Wizard.”

“The hell you are! Putting him in jail won’t help!” Jack grabbed for the cellphone.

Natasha Trovinski looked in the mirror and quickly brushed her hair. She was pleased that Jack had finally called, asking if he could drop by.

She hurried into the living room, grabbed some books from the coffee table, and replaced them on the bookshelf. Would she have time to vacuum before he arrived?

The apartment security buzzer answered her question.

Moments later, she tried to hide her disappointment. Jack hadn’t mentioned that Danny would be with him.

“What a pleasant surprise! Come on in, you two. I’ll put some coffee on.”

Natasha looked again. They’re arm in arm. Jack is staggering…. Have they been drinking? Jack’s sweatshirt — it’s stained with blood!

“My God! What happened? Get him in here!”

“I just want to make it clear that I did not fall on broken glass,” said Jack.

“He’s been shot and knifed,” said Danny, as soon as she closed the door behind them.

“You fools!” said Natasha harshly. “I’m calling an ambulance. You should have gone to the hospital!” she added, rushing to the telephone.

“No! Don’t do that! It’s not that bad,” Jack insisted. “I don’t want anyone to know I’ve been shot. At least not now. I need time to figure this —”

“A hospital or clinic might not be safe!” interjected Danny. “It might be a policeman responsible for Jack getting shot! Please! You’ve got to help him!”

Natasha stared at the two men, then hung up the phone.

“Okay, let me take a look,” she said calmly. “Sit on the kitchen chair.”

Natasha quickly retrieved a first-aid kit from her bathroom vanity. She used scissors to cut off Jack’s sweatshirt, then she examined his wounds closely.

A purplish line bored its way from near the centre of Jack’s back up across his rib cage, where it disappeared. A small puncture hole in the back of his arm looked black, but the flesh had closed in around the wound and there was little bleeding. Natasha gently raised his arm to expose an exit hole on the opposite side that was still oozing blood.

“It looks like you were only shot once. I think the bullet reflected off the left side of your rib cage before travelling up through the biceps on your arm. I take it you were bent over at the time or in a prone position?”

“I tried to make as small a target as possible, while running like hell.”

“There’s another injury, exposing part of your left shoulder blade. You were slashed with a knife.”

“That happened first. I didn’t really feel it much then, but I do now.”

“So it’s not too serious? He’s going to be okay?” asked Danny, sounding hopeful.

“Have you been coughing up or spitting up blood?” she asked, ignoring Danny.

“No, but it hurts like hell to talk. Even breathing causes pain.”

“You should be x-rayed. I’m sure you’ve got some fractured ribs. The humerus, too, but it’s your ribs I’m concerned with. A fractured rib could puncture your lung. The slice across your shoulder blade is going to require quite a few stitches. How long has it been since it happened?”

“About half an hour,” replied Danny. “It was a policeman who did this?” asked Natasha, as she cleaned the wounds in preparation for the dressings.

“Not exactly,” replied Jack. “I set up a couple of City narcs to think I was an informant. Three bikers tried to kill me, thinking I was an informant. They don’t know I’m a cop. Someone is leaking information. Could be one of the narcs, or maybe a secretary in their office. They were also dealing with our Homicide Unit, so it could be someone out of our building.”

“You should be taken in and x-rayed.”

“No. The guys who did this belong to a big organization. They’ll have every hospital and clinic covered. Even if they don’t finish the job, we’d never find out who’s behind the leak. If you will just patch me up, I’ll be on my way.”

“I have to report all gunshot wounds to the police.”

“Now you decide to talk to the police!” said Danny angrily.

“You didn’t let me finish, Danny. You’re a policeman, so consider yourself informed. I won’t inform anyone else, providing Jack stays here where I can keep an eye on him for a few days. If his condition worsens, I will call an ambulance,” she said firmly.

“I can’t do that to you. I’m sure I’ll be fine once I —”

“You’re not going anywhere until I say so! I’ll sleep on the sofa and you’ll use my room. I’m going to start you on antibiotics. Have you had a tetanus shot within the last ten years?”

“Uh, no, I guess I haven’t.”

“I’ll go to the clinic and pick up what I need. Danny, I want you to hold this compress tight to his back until I return.”

“These people are really dangerous,” said Jack. “We can’t trust anyone. I probably shouldn’t even be here. I think I should leave as soon as —”

“You’ll leave when I tell you to! Tomorrow is my day off. We’ll see how you are then.”

“I think you should listen to her,” said Danny. “It’s not safe for you to go home like this.”

Jack moved slightly, and the pain caused him to clench his teeth. “Perhaps you’re right. I don’t feel like travelling very far tonight. Sorry, Natasha. I’m sure that being a doctor on your day off wasn’t what you had in mind. Be careful. We don’t know who we can trust.”

“You said they were bikers?”

“Satans Wrath.”

Natasha arrived at her clinic twenty minutes later. She walked past a car in the parking lot parked near the front entrance. Two men were inside. The driver was drumming the steering wheel with a nervous energy. Natasha noticed the numerous rings across their fingers. Oh, shit!

She found a plastic bag in her office left over from buying a new pair of shoes. She filled it with what she needed, but her mind was still on the two men outside. She took a scalpel and held it in her jacket pocket as she walked to the car. She needn’t have worried. The two men paid her little attention and continued to stare at the front door of the clinic. She drove away from the clinic and breathed a sigh of relief when the other car remained where it was.

It was three o’clock in the morning when Natasha ushered Danny out the door.

“Don’t worry about him. I’m sure he’ll be fine,” whispered Natasha. “I gave him some medication to ease the pain and help him sleep. Say hello to Susan.”

Danny nodded solemnly and said, “I’ll drop back around noon to see how he’s doing. And Natasha … thank you!”

It was noon when Jack woke up to the aroma of fresh coffee. He groaned as he eased over to the edge of the bed and put his feet on the floor.

“How’s my star patient this morning?”

Natasha stood in the doorway. She was backlit by a beam of sunlight.

“I hurt!”

“Pain is a common consequence of being shot and stabbed. Does this happen often?”

“No, I just thought it would make a good excuse to see you again.”

“Next time try phoning and inviting me out. It’s easier.”

“Thanks for the suggestion.” Jack saw a clock in the bedroom and said, “Hey, it’s late! I can’t believe I slept this long. Especially with this sling on my arm.”

“The medication helped you sleep. You needed to.”

“Well, at least I’m not spitting up blood, so my lungs must be okay. If I can borrow your phone, I’ll have Danny drop by and pick me up.”

“You’re not out of the woods yet, buster! Infection could still set in, or a fractured rib or bone fragments could still cause serious problems.”

“Well, I’ll take it easy and I’m sure I’ll be —”

“First thing I want you to do is get in the tub and I’ll give you a sponge bath. Then we’ll take a look and change those dressings again. Your sweatshirt has had it, but I’ll wash the rest of your clothes while you’re soaking in the bath.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll phone Danny and then —”

“Just do it and quit giving me a hard time!”

“Some bedside manner you have! Are you this rude with all your patients?”

“Only those patients who think they know more than the doctor.”

Jack eased the sling off his left arm but gripped his right shoulder with his fingers as he stepped into the warm bath. Moments later, Natasha entered and used a sponge to gently wash his back. Jack hunched forward in the water, hoping not to embarrass himself, or if he did, to make sure that Natasha didn’t notice.

“Sit up straight, I’ll wash your front,” she said.

“No! That part I can do myself!”

Natasha seemed amused. “An undercover cop who’s bashful. Interesting. Okay, soak in here for a while and I’ll wash your clothes.”

Jack relaxed when Natasha left the room. He had to admit the bath did feel good, and the warm water seemed to ease the pain. He heard Danny arrive so he got out of the tub and carefully patted himself dry and replaced the sling. When he was finished, he wrapped a towel around himself and walked into the kitchen where Danny and Natasha were having coffee.

“How do you feel?” asked Danny.

“A little like they succeeded in driving over me last night, but I’ll be okay.”

“They tried to drive over you, too?” Natasha asked.

“Yeah, don’t you hate nights like that?” replied Danny with a grin.

“Danny, I’m sorry. I never even thanked you last night. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be standing here. I owe you one, brother.”

Danny’s expression became sombre. “After hearing the shots and seeing the blood on the road, I figured they had taken you to either finish you off or dispose of your body. You don’t know how relieved I was to see you! I wasn’t thinking that you would use Marcie’s trick.”

“Marcie’s trick?” asked Natasha.

“He hid under a car.”

“I knew they would find me pretty fast,” said Jack. “I saw their feet as they followed the blood up to the curb. It wouldn’t have taken them long to find me.”

“You mentioned Marcie,” said Natasha. “Is this the same Marcie I treated earlier? You’ve seen her again?”

“Seen her!” said Danny. “Jack’s got her living with his sister and brother-in-law out in the Valley. We were concerned that Social Services might have a leak too.”

“She’s been there less than two days,” said Jack quietly. “I don’t know if it’ll work out.”

Natasha looked at Jack. This guy is pretty special.

Jack flinched as he eased himself into a chair.

“Pansy,” said Danny.

“I’m impressed you were able to convince her to leave her life on the street,” said Natasha. “Most street kids I’ve met are either too addicted or too caught up with the excitement of this whole new world to ever be convinced to leave.”

“Uh … well, actually, it was Danny who took a chance and talked to her. It was a shot in the dark, but it appears to have worked out well.” He turned to Danny to change the subject. “Did you talk to Louie this morning? Does he suspect anything?”

“I told him you decided to take a few days off and go fishing.”

“Fishing! God, you’re a lousy liar.”

“So I’ve been told, but he didn’t say anything.”

“I don’t think I could stand any of his lectures right now. I’ll wait a few days and then let him know we’ve got a new game plan.”

“A new game plan?” asked Danny.

“Time to take the gloves off,” said Jack. He gave Danny a hard look. Danny caught the message and didn’t pursue it.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Everyone took a sip of coffee, then Natasha got up and said, “Well, let’s take a look at you.”

Jack felt her fingers gently remove his dressings.

“The wound across your shoulder blade and the hole punched through your biceps look good, but infection could still set in. I’m still worried about damage to your rib cage. You’re definitely not going anywhere for a day or two.”

Jack waited until she finished placing clean dressings on him before standing up. He saw Danny give Natasha a knowing look.

“Well, thanks, Natasha,” said Jack. “I really appreciate what you’ve done for me, but I need to be going. Don’t worry, I’ll be careful!”

“I told you he would be like this,” said Danny.

“So, if I can just have my clothes back I’ll be out of your hair. I’m sorry for the inconvenience I’ve caused. I’d like to call you in a day or two. I owe you at least one dinner, not to mention new sheets. I bled on them during the night.”

Natasha scowled and didn’t respond for a moment. Then she said, “Your clothes are in the bedroom, but you’re a fool for not listening to me!”

“I probably am,” he admitted, slowly making his way to the bedroom.

Moments later, Jack returned to the kitchen where Natasha was sitting alone.

“Did you say my clothes were in the bedroom? I couldn’t find them.”

“Danny has them.”

“Where is he?” asked Jack, glancing around.

“He’s not here. He left.”

“He left! I’m supposed to go with him!”

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“What part of that statement don’t you understand?”

Jack looked down at the towel he was wearing, then back at Natasha.

“Now, I’m going to make you breakfast and then you’re going back to bed. You lost a lot of blood last night and I’m going to see to it that you get some rest.”

“But … what about my clothes?”

“If you behave yourself and do what I tell you, then I’ll let you keep the towel.”

Jack paused to think about the predicament he was in.

“Are you angry?” she asked, out of idle curiosity.

He paused, then said, “I’m being held hostage by a beautiful woman who’s stolen my clothes and is demanding I sleep in her bed. I think I can live with it for now.”

Later that afternoon, Jack wrapped a blanket around himself and plodded out to the kitchen. Natasha was preparing dinner, so he sat at the kitchen table.

Their conversation was light, which relieved him. She wasn’t the type to be nosy and ask many questions, although he knew she was probably curious as hell.

After supper they sat on the sofa and Jack talked about Marcie and how great Ben and Liz were to look after her. He said that the four of them had a long talk. Ben and Liz agreed to take her in on a trial basis. Marcie agreed to start seeing a psychologist and go to school.

He also told her about Maggie and Ben Junior. He confessed he was having nightmares where they were calling out to him for help and he all he could do was sit there, unable to move.

“Do you always have the same nightmare?”

“Lately, I do.”

“Often?”

“Quite often.”

“Does it bother you to talk about it?”

“Not with you, for some reason. Maybe because you’re a doctor. It feels good to be able to talk to someone about it.”

“You were talking in your sleep last night. You repeated the word dirty.”

“I said that?”

Natasha nodded. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be listening in on your private dreams, but I was concerned you might be getting an infection and I was checking to see if you had a fever.”

“No, it’s okay. I didn’t realize I talked in my sleep. Dirty was what Maggie printed in the last page of her sketchbook, just before she was murdered. It’s been bothering me ever since.”

“Maybe whoever killed her was dirty or perhaps was using foul language?”

“I don’t think so. She was really talented. You should see some of the drawings she did. They’re incredible. She could really draw what she saw.”

“Meaning?”

“She was too talented just to print the word dirty. I think it has more meaning.”

The security buzzer announced Danny’s arrival, and Natasha let him in.

“Well, big guy, are you going to tear a strip off me for leaving you here this morning?” asked Danny, while placing two photo albums on the coffee table.

“I don’t know whether to yell at you or thank you.” Jack stole a quick look at Natasha and added, “But I think maybe I’ll thank you.”

“I should be home by five tomorrow,” said Natasha. “I’ll check on you then. If you’re okay, you can go, provided you take some time off and don’t go back to work for a while.”

“Maybe by then I won’t want to go.” Jack caught the sparkle in her eye and thought how good she was for him — and not just as a doctor.

“So what’s this? Your family photo albums?” asked Natasha.

“Pictures of Satans Wrath,” replied Danny. “See if Jack can put names to who did this.”

Jack opened the binder to the picture of Wizard. He knew it well but wanted to look again. After turning a few pages, he recognized another picture.

“That’s the driver. His forehead looks like someone performed a frontal lobotomy.” Jack looked at Natasha. “Your work?” he asked.

Natasha snickered and lightly squeezed his leg.

Danny took a look. “Lance Morgan. Okay, that’s two out of three. See if you can recognize fat boy.”

Jack took a few more minutes to identify him. “His name is Roland Leitch.”

Natasha went to the kitchen and Danny whispered, “We got a computer kickback on Red this afternoon. She’s dead. The landlord found her body. Looks like an accidental overdose. The needle was still hanging off her arm and there was a deck of heroin nearby.”

“That was no accident. She was a connection to them. Dig up everything you can on my three friends from the alley.”

“Will do. Also got a response on the Volvo.”

“Stolen?”

“Yup. The owner was out of town. He reported it stolen last night when he returned.”

“Speaking of returning home. Come back in the morning and bring me some clothes! It’s time I got out of here. With this blanket I’m beginning to feel like a monk!”

“Don’t give me that!” replied Danny. “I saw how you two snuggled in with each other when you were looking at the pictures! Besides, you’ve been through those pictures a dozen times. It should only have taken you seconds to find them!”

“Well … I had to make sure I picked the right person.”

“Oh? Well, I hope she is the right person,” retorted Danny.

Jack didn’t respond, so Danny asked, “What did you mean when you said the gloves were coming off?”

Jack’s face hardened. “I’ve got a plan. Might get a little violent.”

Natasha saw Danny out the door and then returned to sit with Jack on the sofa. Earlier, she had studied his face as he spoke. He seemed intense, yet he was quick with a smile. She had watched his eyes as he related his past experiences. His long, dark eyelashes made his blue eyes take on a deeper shade, but at the same time he had a boyish, wide-eyed look of innocence. The type who had freckles as a kid, she decided.

Considering his experiences, she knew he was far from naive. Briefly she felt irritated to think other women had probably fallen for his boyish charm. Still, he was compassionate. He hadn’t become hardened and callous, like so many people who deal with life and death.

Maybe it was the intensity and openness of his conversation, or the realization that they both dealt with grief and sorrow, but it occurred to her that she felt closer to this man in the short time she had known him than any other man she had ever met.

Right now, with a blanket wrapped around him, he looked cute. But earlier today, when he was wearing only a towel, she had felt aroused. There was no denying that. She had only ever kissed him once. That was in a men’s room. There was no denying what she had wanted to do then, either.

Enough fantasizing! I’m a professional. I’ve got to behave like one.

“Okay, you’re still my patient. Turn around on the couch and lower the blanket so I can have a look under those dressings again.”

Jack did as he was told. She carefully removed the dressing covering the wound across his shoulder blade. She gently ran her hand over the smooth skin on his back, lightly probing with her fingers. She felt his muscles tense under her hand and noticed he held his breath.

“I’m sorry, does it hurt?”

“No,” he replied softly, “it feels good.”

Neither spoke as Natasha put on a fresh dressing.

“Turn around and let me take a look at your arm.”

His eyes were intensely fixed on her face. She pretended not to notice as she peeled off the dressing.

“This looks fine, too! You’re really doing well.” She picked up a fresh roll of gauze and wrapped the dressing around his arm. The closer she came to the end, the slower she wrapped.

When she finished she said, “There! All done,” in a voice she hoped would sound perky.

He stared at her eyes, their faces almost touching. He didn’t move or speak. She tried to smile but felt her lip tremble and quickly looked away.

She felt his other hand on her back, guiding her toward him. She closed her eyes and felt his warm lips on hers. It was much different than their first kiss. This was long and gentle. She felt herself drawn against his naked chest, where she remained a moment before pulling away.

She cleared her throat. “Get in there and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning before I go to work.”

“Are you going to sleep on the sofa?”

She stared at him for a moment without speaking, then answered, “Yes … but I want you to kiss me once more before you go.”

chapter twenty-two

It was mid-morning when Jack let Danny inside Natasha’s apartment.

“Louie wants to talk to you!” said Danny, handing Jack a bag containing his clothes.

“I’m not surprised. We’ll go back to my place and I’ll call him from there.”

“I was supposed to wait until Natasha looked at you. Maybe we should leave a note.”

“She’s working until four-thirty. I found a spare key on top of the fridge, so I’ll be able to lock up. I’ll talk to her later.”

Danny stared at Jack, then said, “She’s a smart girl — and damned attractive.”

Jack looked at Danny, then said, “I noticed. Now take me home. We’ve got work to do!”

Back in his own apartment, Jack looked at the information that Danny had found on Wizard, Rolly, and Lance. Wizard was forty-five years old and had four convictions for trafficking in drugs: fines on the first two, thirty days in jail for the third, and six months of house arrest for the last time. A month later he was charged with armed robbery, but it was dismissed. Jack pointed to the report and said, “Why?”

“Lack of evidence,” said Danny. “The only witness was killed in a hit-and-run accident. Wizard is also a suspect in three murders. Those victims were all drug dealers.”

“Probably a little tardy in their payments.”

“He changes addresses and girlfriends about as often as you’d change your shorts.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“He maintains a pretty high lifestyle,” continued Danny. “Most of his apartments have been penthouse suites. He also drives a Ferrari.”

“Does he work?”

“Fisherman. He owns a crab boat out in White Rock. It’s paid off, too.”

Jack looked at Rolly’s file. “Thirty-seven years old. Convicted for drug trafficking, break and enter, armed robbery, assault causing bodily harm, extortion … a regular pillar of society.”

“He owns an older-style house on a double lot in North Van.”

“Mortgage?”

“Nope. He paid it off one year after moving in. Lists his occupation as a mechanic. Spends two days a week at one of the bike shops owned by the club. He’s been living with some stripper for the last two years.”

“Another boy not smart enough to hide his money.”

Jack then picked up the file on Lance Morgan. “This is interesting: he’s thirty-nine years old and his record is mostly for auto theft, fraud, false pretences, impaired driving, and one charge of trafficking, which was dismissed.”

“He was caught with two kilos of cocaine in a rental vehicle,” Danny explained. “He took the stand and gave the usual story that someone who rented the car previously must have left it in there. The judge said it was enough for reasonable doubt and dismissed the case.”

“He only served a one-month sentence for auto theft, strictly provincial. He’s never seen the inside of a federal pen.”

“He’s still a badass,” said Danny.

“By the looks of his record he’s not as violent as his partners.”

“Or he’s just smarter and hasn’t been caught.”

“I’m looking for someone smarter. What else do you have on him?”

“He’s married to some waitress, and they’ve got four kids. He owns an arcade, and they’ve got a modest home just outside of Vancouver. I think it’s in…”

“Surrey,” said Jack, studying the report.

“Yeah, it’s just an average house with a big mortgage.”

Jack slowly sifted through the file again.

“So? What are you thinking?” asked Danny.

“I want to know more about Lance Morgan. See if he owns any companies or whatever. An arcade is a good business for laundering money. It would be tough to prove how many kids are dropping how many quarters into all those machines. Lance may be a lot smarter than his cohorts. He also has a family. This could be our chance.”

“Our chance to do what?”

The telephone interrupted Jack’s reply.

“All right, Jack! What the hell are you up to?”

“Oh … Louie! How are you?” replied Jack, catching the worried look on Danny’s face.

“Don’t give me that crap! What are you up to?”

“Didn’t Danny tell you? I took a few days off to go fishing.”

“Bullshit! I didn’t say anything to him in case he believed it. But I sure as hell don’t!”

“Well … I’m fishing for bad guys.”

“Jesus, you drive me nuts sometimes. I’ve been listening to the news, reading the papers — even the obituary columns — trying to figure out where you were or what you were up to. I’ve been phoning for two days. If you’ve been down to the States again, so help me I’ll —”

“No, no, Louie! Relax! There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve been spending a lot of time on the street. Only at home to sleep.”

“So everything is okay?” asked Grazia suspiciously.

“You bet.”

“Did you catch any?”

“Catch any?”

“Bad guys. You said you were fishing for bad guys.”

“Had a few nibbles. Nothing solid, but I’ve got a feeling in my bones that we’re on to something.”

Natasha was in a grim mood as she drove home from work that evening. Usually she enjoyed a warm autumn rain. It made her feel cozy when she sat beside her fireplace with a glass of wine. Today was different. The rain only served to accent her feelings of despair, along with a dyspeptic stomach that gnawed at her like a disease.

She had picked up sandwiches at the deli and rushed home at lunchtime, hoping to surprise him, only to find her apartment empty. The ungrateful swine could have at least written a note to say thank you!

She felt the tears well in her eyes as she tried to force her office key into her apartment door. She changed keys, unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

She looked on the counter as if by magic there might be a note, but there was nothing.

But something had changed. She looked again. Her kitchen felt warm, and her stereo was playing quietly in the living room.

“Hi,” Jack said softly, appearing from the living room.

He was clean-shaven and dressed in a navy blue suit accented by a burgundy tie and handkerchief. He held a solitary long-stemmed red rose in his hand.

He looked at her face and dropped the flower on the counter, stepping forward.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she said, then kissed him and let him hold her tight before pushing him away and picking up the long-stemmed rose. “Is this for me?”

“No, I thought it was Danny coming in.”

She saw the grin on Jack’s face and smiled back. “Where’s your sling?”

“I’m okay as long as I don’t jar it.”

“You can cook?” asked Natasha, while retrieving a vase from her china cabinet.

“I’ve taken a few courses. French, Italian, Thai, but being a one-armed gourmet is something new. My repertoire is small, but I like to think it’s good.”

Natasha noticed that the gas fireplace was on. Her table had already been set, with two new candles alongside her dishes. Romantic music drifted softly through the room. “Give me a minute to change,” she said.

Natasha liked the look on Jack’s face when she reappeared wearing a black chiffon dress, a pearl necklace accenting her long dark hair.

The candles had burned to the bottom by the time dinner was over. Crab-stuffed mushroom caps were followed by a beef roulade accompanied by mushroom gravy. The wine was a pinot noir. It was a good match for the food. The main course was followed by latticed chocolate rum pie. Natasha found the whole meal a sensual experience.

After dinner, Natasha sat on the sofa while Jack went to the kitchen. He appeared moments later carrying a silver tray, upon which were two glasses of flaming liqueur.

“Sambuca,” he said, putting the tray on the coffee table and sitting down.

She moved closer to him on the sofa and watched the rain running down the outside of her patio doors. The glass caught the flickering reflection from the fireplace. The rain seemed beautiful again and gave a feeling of intimacy.

She felt his arm wrap around her bare shoulder, coaxing her body closer. The musky, haunting smell of his cologne aroused her senses. She enjoyed the feel of his warm hand on her shoulder as she snuggled in.

She raised the sambuca to her lips and watched as the clear liquid picked up the light from the fire, shimmering like diamonds. Three coffee beans floating on top glistened below the blue flame dancing above. She marvelled at it for a moment, then caught the shine in Jack’s eyes as he held his glass up, giving a silent toast.

She gave a small breath to blow out the flame and let the licorice flavour of the liqueur explore her mouth before warming its way down her throat. She looked intently into his eyes, then put her glass down and took him by the hand and led him to her bedroom.

She felt his naked body next to hers as he lay on his side, softly touching her face before gently kissing her on the temple. She felt his hand gently glide up the inside of her thigh and then slowly trail up the rest of her body. The underside of his arm brushed her nipples and she felt them harden to his touch. His scent filled her lungs and she could almost taste him, wishing he were inside her.

Finally he kissed her again. She responded with a lustful hunger but felt him pull away.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I keep forgetting you’re injured. Did I…”

His placed his finger lightly on her lips, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t hurt me,” he said softly. “I just want to remember this moment forever.”

Their mouths found each other again and her passion grew with intensity until it exploded when she felt him inside her. When they were finished, she lay with her head on his chest, enjoying the feel of his hand as he continued to caress her body.

She was not totally unaccustomed to making love, but it had never felt so good and so right in all her life as it did tonight. Her body tingled again under his touch and soon she was aroused to a passion that, until now, was something she thought existed only in books and the fantasies of others.

chapter twenty-three

Lance Morgan locked the public door from inside his arcade and walked to his office in the rear. It was mid-week, and business had been slow. He flicked off the lights and opened the rear door leading into a small parking area behind the arcade.

The barrel of a shotgun rammed deep into his belly below the rib cage. He doubled over, his lungs paralyzed as his knees sunk to the floor. Danny stepped forward and with his free hand grabbed Lance’s hair and sent him sprawling backwards. Jack followed and flicked on the light to the office as the door swung shut behind him. He also carried a shotgun with a metal folded stock.

Lance looked up from the floor, still trying to catch his breath, and gasped, “Take it, guys, no need to hurt me. It’s only about four hundred bucks. Mostly coin. I’ll open it for ya,” he said, waving his arm toward a small safe in the office.

“You don’t remember me, do ya?” Jack barked out the words while stepping closer and sticking the barrel of the shotgun into Lance’s crotch.

Lance used his hands and feet to edge himself backwards on the floor. He stopped when Jack pushed the shotgun deeper into his crotch. His eyebrows furled as he stared up at Jack.

“One week ago, behind the Black Water,” Jack added.

The blood drained from Lance’s face. He whispered, “You’re Eddy!”

Jack smiled down at him. “So, how does it feel to be on the receiving end?”

“You ought to know,” said Lance bitterly. “Live by the gun, die by the gun. Just do what you came here to do, man. I had nothin’ against you personal, so just kill me an’ get it over with.”

“Tell you what,” snarled Jack. “Tell me why you tried to kill me and maybe I’ll consider letting you live!”

“Yeah, sure you will,” said Lance sarcastically. “Besides, you know the answer to that yourself!”

“I want you to tell me!”

“You’re a rat!”

“Who says so? Who told ya I was?” snapped Jack.

“I don’t know, I was just carrying out orders,” replied Lance defiantly.

“From who? Who were the two guys with ya? Fuckin’ talk, man, or I’ll blow ya away right now!”

“Fuck you. You’re gonna do me anyway. I’m not sayin’ nothin’, so you might as well get it over with!”

Jack raised the shotgun and pointed it directly at Lance’s face. Lance glared back. When he saw Jack’s finger slowly squeeze down on the trigger he closed his eyes. The seconds ticked by. When he opened his eyes he saw that Jack had lowered the shotgun.

“I got some news for you, Lance. I’m not going to kill you. But I might arrest you!”

“You what?” asked Lance, looking confused.

Jack and Danny produced their badges.

“You guys are cops!” A nervous laugh escaped his lips.

“Yes, I’m a police officer. My real name is Jack Taggart. For attempting to murder me, you could be looking at a long time in the crowbar hotel.”

“Oh, man,” said Lance, shaking his head, “I didn’t know you were a cop! I thought you were just a rat.”

“Well, this could be your lucky night, Lance, because if you become a rat, we’ll forget the whole thing!”

“What? You’d let me off tryin’ to kill ya? Just for me to rat out?”

Jack nodded. “Yeah, but you’d be working for us for the next ten years. I think that’s fair. You’d be ours, body and soul. You lie to us just once or try an’ hide something from us and we feed you to the wolves!”

Lance reflected on the proposition, then gestured to a picture on his desk of his wife and four children. “I can’t. Go ahead and bust me. I got them to think about.”

“You’ve got my word. I will never arrest anyone or do anything if I think it will jeopardize your position. Once we haul you out of here it’s too late to change your mind. You could be looking at life in prison. You won’t be any good to your family in there.”

“Thanks, man, I appreciate what you’re sayin’, but no, I’m still not turnin’ in my brothers.” He gave a weak smile, then added, “As they say, don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time!”

Jack picked up the picture of Lance’s wife and children. “I’m no psychic, but I have a feeling that if you don’t cooperate, you’ll be a widower soon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“If you don’t cooperate, I’ll arrest you now and charge you with stealing the car. Considering your record, you’ll probably get about six months in jail. I’ll put in a good word for you so you’ll be out as soon as you’re eligible.”

“You’re only going to charge me with stealing the clunker?” Lance gave Jack a puzzled look.

“Later tonight,” continued Jack, “we’ll pick up Wizard and Rolly and charge them with attempted murder. They’ll end up getting life. Especially with the parole reports I’ll do on them.”

Lance gawked up from where he sat on the floor. “What do ya mean? You already know who they are? I tried to kill ya just as much as…” He stopped talking when he saw the grim smile creep across Jack’s face.

“You can’t! They’ll think I cut a deal with ya! That I gave ’em up to save myself!”

Jack nodded. “Life’s a bitch, ain’t it! Your own brothers, as you call ’em, will do you just like Lenny. Except with you, they’ll probably take it a bit more personal. I doubt they’d kill you as quickly as Lenny.”

Lance sat in a stunned silence, slowly shaking his head. Jack knelt down so they could look at the picture together.

“Nice family. Tell me, I’m curious to see what will happen. You know your bros better than I do. If we see to it you serve your time in protective custody, where they can’t get at you … what do you think they’ll do?”

“You fucking bastard! You know what they’ll do!”

“Oh, well,” said Jack, standing up. “What did you say? Live by the gun, die by the gun? Well I have one you can tell your family: If you fly with the crows, expect to get shot at.”

Lance’s face turned pasty white, and for the first time his trembling body betrayed his fear. He looked up and his voice quavered. “Okay, you guys win, but I gotta tell ya, you got someone on your side who’s talkin’. Someone big.”

Jack and Danny looked silently at each other for a moment, then Jack turned back to Lance. “We know there’s someone. Who is it?”

“I don’t know, man. I really don’t know.”

“Don’t give us that shit!” said Danny. “If you cooperate, you go all the way!”

“I am fuckin’ cooperating! Do you think I’m gonna fuck with you two, with what you’ll do if I lie? I really don’t know! Look at me, I’m shakin’ I’m so fuckin’ scared. If I knew who it was, I’d tell ya, just to make sure I stay alive! I told you I’d cooperate, and I will. I’m just sayin’ you better fuckin’ watch who you tell, ’cause I’m puttin’ my life in your hands!”

“We’ll be very selective on who knows,” said Jack.

“If you’re not, I’m dead.” He nodded toward the desk and asked, “Can I get up now and sit down?”

“Got a piece in your desk?” asked Jack.

Lance smiled briefly. “No, it’s not in my desk. It’s fastened in a holster under the drawer. I wasn’t gonna do you guys. I bet someone knows you’re here?”

Jack ignored the question as he retrieved the pistol from underneath the desk drawer. “Not a bad piece of hardware: 9 mm,” he said casually, before returning the pistol to where he had found it.

“You’re not takin’ it from me?” asked Lance.

“No, it would only inconvenience you until you got another one. We don’t want to change how you operate. We just want to be informed. So have a seat. We have a few questions.”

Lance got up off the floor, and after a few nervous glances at Jack and Danny, he pulled out the chair from the desk. He was careful to place his hands flat on top of the desk as he sat down. Jack sat on the edge of the desk, looking down at him, while holding the shotgun in one hand with the barrel pointing toward the ceiling. Danny stood to the side and held his weapon with both hands.

“So why, Lance? Why’d they try to kill me?”

“It wasn’t you! We thought you were a rat!”

“Who told you?”

“Wizard an’ Rolly. They have someone on the inside who lets them know what’s goin’ on. They call ’im The Suit. I don’t know his real name and have never seen him. He likes young broads. I heard Wizard and Rolly laughing about him one day. Does sort of a power trip on ’em. I think he uses a dog, too. Rolly used to handle the whores. I think that’s how they met the guy.”

Jack thought about Marcie. He became conscious that the bullet wound in his upper arm hurt and realized that his fist was clenched. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

Lance continued, “This guy has been talkin’ for years, but except for maybe Damien, the rest of us don’t know who he is, just in case.”

“In case what?” asked Danny.

“In case you guys infiltrate the club somehow. Only a select few know what’s goin’ on.”

“Last week in the alley, how did Wizard and Rolly know what I looked like?” asked Jack.

“Wiz knew some bitch who knew you. Red’s her name. You must know her; she said you’d been buying from her.”

“I knew her.”

“She met us in a room at the BW about half an hour before we tried to do ya. She told us what you were wearing. Don’t think she could help ya now. Wiz had her pegged as a loose end. Said he was gonna take care of her.”

“She died of an overdose,” said Danny.

“I’m pretty sure Wizard gave it to her,” replied Lance.

“That’s what we figured,” said Jack. “How about Lenny? What happened with him?”

“It was the same way as you, except with Lenny, we didn’t have any problems. I drove. Wiz shot ’im with a .22. It was the middle of the day and people were around, so he used a potato for a silencer. Rolly carved him up after. If somehow he got past them and ran, then I was supposed to drive over him.” Lance looked at Jack. “Just like with you, except I didn’t expect ya to run toward me. I couldn’t drive over ya because that dumb, fat Rolly was right on your ass.”

“Does Wizard still have the gun?” asked Danny.

“Naw, he probably threw it in the ocean. He never keeps it once he’s done a job.”

“So tell me, Lance, who was it that blew up Crystal?” asked Jack.

“Crystal? Was that the whore on the freeway who tried to skip out?”

“Yes, that one,” said Jack, glancing at Danny. The knuckles on Danny’s hands turned white as he gripped the shotgun.

Lance took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Oh man, I just don’t know,” he mumbled, putting his elbows on the table and holding his head with his hands.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” yelled Danny.

“That’s not what I mean,” muttered Lance, shaking his head. “I just don’t know if I’m doin’ the right thing by talkin’. I didn’t mind about Lenny, ’cause I knew you had that one figured out, but…” His voice trailed off and there was silence as Lance grappled with his uncertainty.

Jack picked up the family picture. Lance eyed him nervously as he laid the picture down on the desk between Lance’s elbows. Lance looked down at his family. They disintegrated before his eyes as Jack smashed the butt of his shotgun into the glass. Splinters of glass sprayed out while other pieces tore into the faces on the portrait. Lance fell back in his chair. His eyes were wide and his mouth opened and closed. Fear and anger made him speechless.

Jack reached for the telephone and said to Danny, “I’m calling the office. We’ll have Wizard and Rolly arrested tonight.”

“It was Axle and Nails! Don’t call, man! I’m tellin’ ya, it was them!”

Jack was silent for a moment, then said, “There’s no going back now.”

Lance looked at the picture and sighed, then said, “Yeah, I know.”

Jack replaced the telephone receiver and asked, “What role did you play?”

“I had nothin’ to do with that one! Nails was in some special branch of the army. He knows all about makin’ bombs an’ booby traps.”

“Who besides Axle and Nails were involved?” asked Jack.

“The hit would have been sanctioned by Wizard or Damien, but I don’t think anyone else was involved. It’s not the sort of thing you normally talk about, but a few of the boys were called out to watch hospitals and clinics the night we tried to whack you. Axle was paired up with me. He’s still striking and he told me all about how Nails planted a bomb on her car. He wanted to know if I thought he would get his patch for what happened.”

“What role did Axle play?” asked Jack.

“He stood six while Nails planted the bomb.”

“That’s all? He was just a lookout?” asked Jack.

“He also drove and followed the whore until Nails detonated the bomb. Axle supplies us with hot cars when we need ’em. Whatever he was drivin’ when they followed the whore would have been stolen. It was Axle who got me the car we used on Lenny. The same goes for the Volvo I used for you.”

Jack leaned over, close to Lance’s face. Lance felt uncomfortable and started to roll his chair back, but Jack gripped the armrest. “What other murders do you know about?”

Lance swallowed, then said, “Well, two others for sure.”

“Start with the most recent one,” said Jack.

“They were both killed together, not too long ago.”

Jack found himself holding his breath, listening to every sound to come out of Lance’s mouth. This is it! His grip on the chair and shotgun became intense. His muscles rippled and the knife wound on his back oozed blood. He could see every blemish and pore on Lance’s face.

“It was a couple of Vietnamese guys,” continued Lance. “I don’t know their names, but they were brothers. They were startin’ to move a lot of speed on the west side. Real good stuff. Ice. We warned them to go someplace else, but they didn’t listen.”

“When was this?” Jack relaxed his grip and struggled to keep tears from appearing.

“It would be a year ago next week. I remember it because it was the Thursday before the May long weekend. Wizard has a boat out in White Rock. A big one, for fishin’ an’ crabbin’. My job was to bring a couple of oil drums an’ a wheelbarrow full of bricks out to his boat. We stuffed one guy in each drum, popped holes, weighed ’em down, and rolled ’em overboard.”

“You killed them on the boat?” asked Jack.

“Naw, actually I didn’t see who killed ’em and I didn’t ask. Wizard, Rolly, and I were already out on the boat. Wizard didn’t want to take a chance on haulin’ the bodies down the pier in White Rock. It’s too long and there’s lots of tourists. We left the dock an’ four of the guys delivered ’em to us in a speedboat. They were already dead. Shot once in the head. Wiz didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. There’s too many of them Asians, an’ they don’t give a fuck who they kill. Wizard decided it would be better if they disappeared, so we wouldn’t be startin’ any wars or anything.”

“Who were the four guys who delivered the bodies in the speed boat?”

“It was all guys from our chapter. Sparrow, Pan-Head, Halibut, an’ Rockin’ Ronnie. I think it was Rockin’ Ronnie who did ’em, but he’s dead now. Some old lady hung a left turn in front of ’im when he was ridin’ his bike this summer. He piled right into her.”

“What makes you think it was Rockin’ Ronnie who shot them?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, it’s kind of convenient,” said Danny, “the guy you say did it is now dead.”

“I didn’t say he fuckin’ done it, I said I think he fuckin’ done it!” replied Lance, glaring at Danny.

“Why?” asked Jack.

Lance looked back at Jack. “Well if Halibut had done it, he’d have probably gotten his patch soon after. But he’s still strikin’. That leaves Sparrow, Pan-Head, and Rockin’ Ronnie. I noticed that Rockin’ Ronnie had a fresh lookin’ DD tattoo about a week later. Sparrow and Pan-Head still don’t have one.”

“What tattoo?” asked Jack.

“The Dirty Dog. It first started about four or five years ago. You can earn it by doin’ a hit that’s sanctioned by the executive. It’s got to be verified, too.”

“The Dirty Dog,” Jack repeated. The words replayed through his brain.

“Yeah,” Lance replied. “I know he didn’t have it before, so I’m presumin’ that’s how he earned it.”

“How big is this tattoo?” asked Jack abruptly. “What does it look like? Could you see it, say, from across a room?”

“You could, if the lighting was good. I don’t have one, or I would show ya. It’s just the words Dirty Dog tattooed over the head of a pitbull. Most guys get it on their biceps, but if they already got a tattoo there, then they usually put it on their forearm.”

“Names!” Jack demanded harshly. “I want the names of everyone who has them!”

“I don’t know everyone for sure,” said Lance, nervously. “It’s not somethin’ most guys run around showin’ off right away, either. At least, not if they’re smart. Just off the top of my head, I’d say I know about six or seven guys who got it.”

“Write down their names!”

Lance slowly pulled open the desk drawer and retrieved a pen and a sheet of paper. A minute later, he pushed the list toward Jack. “There may be others, but these ones I know.”

Jack looked at the list: Wizard, Nails, Rockin’ Ronnie, Thumper, Whisky Jake, and Two-Forty Gordy.

“Who are Two-Forty Gordy, Whiskey Jake, and Thumper?”

“Just guys in the club. Different chapter than me. They’re from the east side. Two-Forty probably weighs three-forty now.”

“This is all of them?”

“All I can remember.”

“If you remember any more names, call me on my cell!” said Jack, ripping off a piece of paper and writing his number down. He stared intently at Lance’s face and asked, “The two Vietnamese brothers are the only other murders you know about?”

“Yeah. Them and Lenny and the whore on the freeway. I guess Red, too, if she was hit.”

“I don’t suppose the club, or the executive, keeps any list of who gets a Dirty Dog tattoo and when they get it?”

“Naw, are you kiddin’? Would be too risky in case it fell into the wrong hands.”

“Who does the tattooing?”

“A friend of the club owns a parlour down near the waterfront in Vancouver. He does all the club tattoos. It’s called Popeye’s. He’s had the place for years.”

Jack nodded, then asked nonchalantly, “By the way, who handles the speed coming in from Montreal?”

“Hey! I’m impressed! You know about that already? We only got that started a couple of months ago!”

“Tell us what you know about it. When’s the next shipment due?”

“Not much to tell. We either pay cash or swap blow for speed with our brothers in Montreal. Someday we’ll get our own labs out here, but for the moment, the French shit is excellent. Wizard went to Montreal and set up the original connection. I think we’ve only done one deal so far. Fifty keys is what Rolly told me.”

“Rolly is handling it?”

“He picked up the first shipment to make sure everything went smooth. It came by train. I think another shipment is due this Friday. They’ll probably get one of the strikers to handle it now. Likely either Halibut or Dragon.”

“No problems with the first shipment?” Jack studied Lance’s face carefully.

“Not as far as I know. That’s some of the same stuff you were buying from Red.”

“You guys got any heavy connections an hour or so drive out in the Valley? Someone that Rolly may have dealt with on that first shipment?”

“Nobody that I know of. I don’t think he would make a big delivery out there. Maybe some of the strikers got some people. I don’t know everyone.”

“Would it draw any heat on you if this next shipment gets taken down?” asked Jack.

“Don’t think so. Especially if it’s a striker. They might think the heat came from Montreal.”

Jack stood up and said, “Stay in touch. We’ll talk again in a couple of days.”

“I won’t be around if it’s this coming weekend.”

“Why not?”

“We’re taking our hawgs out for one last run before winter. Headin’ up to the interior for a big bash. Leavin’ Friday afternoon and comin’ back Sunday. Pretty well the whole club is going. Taking our ol’ ladies along too.”

“Then go. But if we find out you’re holding anything back on us, you’re dead meat.”

Lance didn’t respond, so Jack said, “Did you hear me?”

“I’ve got ears,” he replied sullenly.

When Jack and Danny were at the door, Lance asked, “So tell me, man, how close did we come to doin’ ya? I thought Wiz plugged ya.”

Jack yawned, then said, “Got me once, but it ricocheted off my back and through my arm. Rolly slashed my back with a knife. It did more damage than the bullet did.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, I guess a .22 is okay if you got it stuck in someone’s ear or the base of their neck, but I figure if they’d been usin’ a 9 mm, you wouldn’t have been so lucky.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. See you around.”

Lance sat and stared at the broken picture after Jack and Danny had left. He thought about Jack’s response to his last question. Tough motherfucker. Seems to tell it straight. For a moment it made him feel safer, then a wave of fear and shame overtook his brain.

Danny waited until they were in the car before turning to Jack. “You did it! Just like you said you would. You got somebody on the inside!”

“We did it. The two of us.”

“So, the guy they call The Suit has to be the one who molested Marcie.”

Jack nodded.

“And now we know who murdered Crystal! Let’s haul their asses in! Maybe Homicide can match something from the bomb on Crystal’s car to Nails’ and Axle’s houses.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I gave Lance my word. Arresting them would jeopardize his position.”

“Busting Axle and Nails is more important than worrying about that piece of shit!”

Jack looked sharply at Danny. “Always keep your word!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? They murdered Crystal! You were there! Did you see her eyes? She was —”

“I was there.”

Danny drove the car out of the lot before saying, “You’re waiting to get information about Maggie and Ben Junior, aren’t you? That makes sense, except Lance doesn’t know anything about that, so let’s arrest Axle and Nails. Maybe they do! One of them might talk!”

“I gave Lance my word.”

“This is bullshit! I don’t believe you!”

“You better believe me, because it’s true. It’s about respect.”

“You’re telling me that you respect that asshole sitting in there!”

“It’s about us having respect, not him. And actually, yes, I do respect him.”

Danny’s face reddened. His nostrils flared and his lips curled down, exposing his teeth. “He’s a sleaze-bag! Kept referring to Crystal a whore! How can you respect him?”

“In Lance’s world you use derogatory names. If you dehumanize them, it’s easier on your conscience. What was he supposed to refer to her as? The young woman who was being sexually victimized?”

“Crystal was a good person.”

“I know she was. I respect her for what she tried to do.”

“But Lance is nothing but scum!”

“How would you respond if someone shoved a shotgun into your nuts? Would you have the guts to stare them in the eye and refuse to talk? Think about it! He expected to die! No whimpering, no pleading. The only reason he did cooperate was to protect his family. Yes, I have some respect for him too.”

“He tried to kill you!”

“Hey! I respect that he’s dangerous! He could still flip back to the other side. Which is why I didn’t give him your name or cell number.”

“Why not?”

“You have a family to look after. As I said, I respect the fact that he’s dangerous.”

“That’s bullshit! I’m your partner. Susan knows the risks. She married me —”

“That doesn’t mean you have to take risks if you don’t need to.”

Danny shook his head. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. If you’re not going to do anything, then we’re no further ahead. Not when it comes to your sister’s kids.”

“We’re a lot further ahead. This is the first phase in gaining control.”

Danny drove another two blocks, then said, “So now what do you propose we do?”

“Keep quiet about Axle and Nails. Verify what we can about what Lance told us, then concentrate on Wizard and Rolly. They were involved in the original speed connection. Find out if they have contacts up the Valley and find out who the leak is.”

“How? Lance didn’t know of any —”

“They’re leaving on a ride this Friday. Search their places. Maybe turn up an address book or phone numbers.”

“You figure we have enough to get search warrants?”

“No. Even if we did, we don’t know who the leak is. I’m not jeopardizing Lance. Speaking of which, from now on, we don’t use his name. No slip-ups — anywhere!”

“What do you plan on calling him?”

“Just refer to him as our friend.”

“Your friend, maybe, not mine. And now you’re talking about doing illegal searches.”

“Damn it, Danny! Do I have to spell everything out? You sound like you’re wearing a wire and working for Internal, for God’s sake.”

Danny squirmed in his seat and glanced out his side window.

“I appreciate that you have a family,” continued Jack. “I’ll understand if you don’t want to take risks. If you want to work on something else, talk with Louie and get reassigned. But make a decision. I need someone I can trust and depend on.”

“With what we’ve been through, don’t you feel you can trust me yet?”

Jack looked at Danny and sighed. “I’m sorry. I owe you my life. I know I can trust you. But you do have Susan and Tiffany to think about. I’ve done enough searches in my life; I don’t really need you to come along.”

“Yeah, right. In the space of a month, my hand was slashed with a knife and I stabbed a junkie in the back. You’ve been shot and stabbed. Lenny, Crystal, and Red murdered…”

“It does sound like we could be on to something.”

“It’s not funny! I’m waking up at night seeing Crystal’s eyes, asking why I got her killed.”

“You see what you want. I see her eyes, too. I see her asking for justice.”

“Whatever! But that’s what I see and I’m not bailing out now! I may not agree with you, but I’m still your partner.”

“Glad you feel that way. There is something else.” Jack paused as the memories of an abandoned farmhouse interrupted his thoughts.

“Something else?”

Jack swallowed, then said, “The last thing Maggie did before she was murdered was print the word Dirty in her sketchbook. Tomorrow night I’m going to take a look at Popeye’s. See if there is any record of who has the Dirty Dog tattoo or when they got it.”

“You think she saw that word tattooed on someone?”

“It’s possible.”

Danny shook his head, then mumbled, “What the hell. After what’s happened so far, what are a few break-ins going to matter. Speaking of which, how do you plan on getting in?”

Jack took a leather case out of his jacket pocket and flashed Danny an array of lock picks.

“Where did you get those? Do you know how to use them?”

Jack smiled, then said, “Some locksmith must have dropped them. Yes, I know how to use them. Believe me, with my new friend helping, nothing will stop us. It’s just a matter of time. I’m also going to revive Eddy Trimble and give the City narcs a present.”

“Bart and Rex?”

“Can’t use our narcs. We’re only doing surveillance, remember?”

“What if one of them is the leak?”

“My friend didn’t think he would draw any heat if it was taken down. If it was one of the narcs, they wouldn’t have turned me into an informant in the first place. I trust them. Wish I could say the same for the rest of their office — or our own people.”

“Enough emphasis on my friend already! I’m your partner. He can be our friend.”

“Good. Welcome aboard. Hope you enjoy the ride!”

An hour later, Danny arrived home in time to pick up his telephone. He recognized the harsh voice immediately.

“This is Superintendent Wigmore. Meet me at the Oceanside Lounge. Immediately!”

chapter twenty-four

Danny spotted Wigmore sitting alone in the lounge. Wigmore scowled at him and nodded toward a chair. Danny sat down as the waiter approached the table.

“Bring me another Glennfiddich on the rocks,” commanded Wigmore. “This time, bring the Scotch on the side.” He gestured toward Danny and said, “Nothing for him; he won’t be staying.”

Wigmore waited until the waiter left, then said, “Tell me, O’Reilly, why do men pay prostitutes money?”

“Sir?”

“A simple question.” Wigmore’s voice became sarcastic. “Surely you’ve been a policeman long enough to have heard about prostitutes.”

“Men pay prostitutes money in exchange for sex,” said Danny.

“Any other reasons?”

“Not that I can think of.”

“Do you think it conceivable that a man who has engaged a prostitute would murder her if she was perhaps going to spill the beans on him, so to speak?”

“Yes, sir. I guess that is conceivable.”

Wigmore stared smugly at Danny while the waiter returned with his order.

“Ice in your glass, with the Scotch on the side,” said the waiter, somewhat contemptuously.

Wigmore waited until the waiter left before continuing. “So, O’Reilly, you’ve answered why you paid a prostitute — Miss Doyle — money.”

Danny was shocked. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know any Miss Doyle!”

“Come come now, O’Reilly. You paid Miss Christine Doyle’s bill for her at a garage. With the tow bill it came to over $800.”

“Crystal! I didn’t know her real —”

“Oh, of course. You would have known her by the name she uses for customers.”

“I wasn’t a customer!” The edge to Danny’s voice revealed his anger.

“We’ve got your credit card receipt! An auto mechanic identified your photo as being the man who paid her bill! He also saw you and a woman hugging her in the garage parking lot.”

“That woman was my wife.”

“I see. You and your wife are into … group activities, are you?”

Danny seethed with anger. He opened and closed his fists under the table to control his rage. “We were simply helping her out! Her car broke down. She needed help!”

“Forget the charade, O’Reilly! Homicide traced the cell number! You just told me you couldn’t think of any reason a man would pay a prostitute except for sex. She was talking to you on the phone the next day when she was murdered! What have you got to say about that? It appears to me that you may have been involved in her murder!”

Danny fought to keep his composure. This son of bitch wouldn’t have called me here if he really believed what he was saying. Danny glared at Wigmore and said, “Right! Let’s forget the charade! What do you really want?”

“Don’t get snarky with me, O’Reilly! I know Taggart is involved! I warned you before about him! People dying around him is nothing new. Think about it! Since you’ve been his partner, there was this Leonard character in the back alley. Now a hooker is murdered while talking to you, and you not only don’t inform me, you also don’t report it to Homicide!”

Danny started to protest, but Wigmore held up his hand to silence him, then continued, “Just for argument’s sake, even if you did help this hooker with her car and happened to introduce her to your wife, it’s against policy. However, as a police officer, not reporting what you know to Homicide is obstruction of justice! And that’s a criminal matter! You’re already in trouble for neglect of duty in regards to the PM. Now this!”

“I — I didn’t report it because I just thought the phone went dead. She just phoned to say goodbye. I thought she was moving back east.”

Wigmore shook his head. “Get it through your skull, O’Reilly. I warned you not to get sucked into Taggart’s world. I even understand that you’re scared and that’s why you just lied to me. It’s Taggart I want, but if you continue to act dumb and not cooperate, then you’ll both end up in the same cell.”

“It’s not that I’m not cooperating, it’s just that he isn’t doing anything wrong.”

Wigmore chuckled, shaking his head, then said, “So there would be no problem with me scheduling you to take the polygraph? Start off with about a dozen questions concerning policy matters, then look at criminal matters. Questions like: did you intentionally hinder the investigation into Christine Doyle’s murder?”

Wigmore picked up on the look of fear on Danny’s face. Or is it guilt? It triggered a response like a shark to blood. He leaned across the table until his breath was in Danny’s face. “Perhaps question if your actions contributed to her murder?”

Danny stared back at Wigmore. He didn’t know how to respond. He wondered what he would say to Susan.

Wigmore leaned back in his chair. He had made his point. “I’ll be out of town for the next two days. I expect to hear from you on Monday. With the weekend, that gives you four days to think about it. By then, if you decide not to spill the beans, I’ll demand a full Internal. Starting with slapping you on the polygraph!”

It was noon when Danny walked into the office. Jack was already there, and by the amount of paper piled up, he had been at work for a while. Danny plunked himself down.

Jack looked at him and asked, “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve been up all night.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“If you’re that upset about these searches, I told you, I’ll do them myself!”

“I’m just tired. A lot happened last night for me to think about.”

“It was a good night. I’ve got more good news. I found a report from Vancouver City on Asian gangs. Two Vietnamese brothers who were controlling speed distribution in Chinatown, as well the west side, disappeared last year around the May long weekend, leaving their cars, money, and homes untouched.”

“It looks like our friend is telling the truth.”

“I think we can chalk them up as crab bait. I also wandered into Popeye’s this morning. No sign of an alarm system. We’ll do it tonight and Rolly and Wizard’s places tomorrow night. Go in a couple hours after midnight. Shouldn’t be anyone around.”

Danny silently nodded his head. Three break-ins. Wigmore would be happy with that. Or would he still wait for Jack to get caught with the ultimate crime? As Jack said, it’s just a matter of time…. Wigmore’s words lit up the closets of his mind like neon lights. Don’t get sucked into his world! Breaking the law … murders … Jack’s world. He saw Jack studying his face and turned away. He had to make a decision.

“Jack, if we’re going to be that late, then I’ve got some personal business to take care of this afternoon. Do you mind?”

“No, go ahead. I’m going to meet Natasha for dinner. Let’s meet back here at midnight.”

“What is it, honey?” Susan asked. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“I have to talk to you.”

“Sounds serious.”

“It is.”

Danny sat at the kitchen table with Susan. The words suddenly spilled out of him. He confessed about his meetings with Wigmore and that he had been ordered to spy on Jack.

If Danny was looking for sympathy, he didn’t find it. “And you waited until now to tell me?” Susan shouted.

“I was following orders. I couldn’t tell anyone.”

“You’re my husband! You call this a marriage? We’re supposed to talk with each other!”

“I am! Telling you and defying orders!”

“So, why now?” she yelled. “Are you hoping to unload your bundle of guilt on me? Are you hoping I’ll say that you’re doing the right thing? What?”

“I’ll carry the guilt for this all my life. It’s my load to carry, but what I do now could affect our future. Not just mine. Yours, mine, and Tiffany’s.”

“And Jack’s.”

“And Jack’s.”

“So why now? What’s going on that you decided to tell me?”

“Jack and I have a new informant. We just found out who killed Crystal. It might not be long before we find out who killed Jack’s niece and nephew.”

Susan’s face brightened. “Well, that’s good!” She paused and added, “Isn’t it? This Wigmore fellow will be pleased with that!”

“I don’t think so. Jack’s not supposed to be involved with the investigation. Besides, as far as Crystal goes, we could never prove it legally.”

“So what will you do?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do. It’s just … I’m worried about what Jack might do. Especially if we find out who killed his niece and nephew.”

“What do you mean? You think he’ll…” Susan stared at Danny, waiting for an answer.

Danny didn’t reply.

“You better not do anything you shouldn’t!”

“That’s why I’m talking to you! I want to do what’s right, I just don’t know what that is.”

The concern in Susan’s voice was evident. “Danny, what has happened to you? This isn’t like you. We used to talk, remember? You’ve really changed since we moved here. I look into your eyes and you’re not the same person.”

Danny took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “You’re right about that. When I shave in the morning … I don’t see my own eyes looking back at me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I see Crystal’s eyes. I see them all the time. Now I’m being haunted by your eyes and Jack’s eyes as well.”

Susan sat quietly. Moments later, Danny caught the frightened look on her face as she stood up. “I’m going upstairs to vacuum. You do what you think is right.”

Her voice sounded tired and empty. Danny sighed. What is right?

Susan started to walk away, then stopped and asked, “Will you ever be haunted by Wigmore’s eyes?”

“No, not that asshole. Why?”

“You’re the policeman, you figure it out.”

Danny stared after Susan when she left. He realized he loved her very much.

Jack stood in the doorway, shivering in the darkness as a moist, cool breeze blew up from the ocean. His fingers worked the pick and he felt the lock start to turn as the tumblers slid into position. The building had been painted green, but most of the paint had peeled, exposing the wooden structure to the elements.

Above his head, a sign hanging from a wrought-iron pole squeaked as it waved slightly back and forth. The word POPEYE’S was hand-painted in red ink on the sign, over a faded emblem of a ship’s anchor.

Danny stood behind him, staring out at the empty street before risking a glance back at Jack. “Do you want me to hold a flashlight for you?”

“No, it’s okay,” whispered Jack. “I go more by feel than I do by sight.”

“You’re sure it’s not alarmed?”

“Not from what I could tell this morning. I wouldn’t think there’d be much for someone to steal, but we’re about to find out.”

Jack opened the door and they stepped inside.

The front office was small, and Jack quickly searched for business records but didn’t find any. He made his way to a room at the rear, which was only slightly larger. The beam from his flashlight revealed another open door leading into a washroom. He fanned the beam around the room. There wasn’t much to see. A table, couple of chairs, a barstool, a cot, and a shelf with tattooing supplies.

He pulled out a book from under the cot, along with two other dust-covered books he found further back. They contained pictures and sketches of various types of tattoos. The Dirty Dog tattoo was not among them, nor was it on any of the walls.

He shone his light across the calendars on the wall. “Danny! I found it.”

Danny came up beside him, and Jack turned and smiled with satisfaction. “Take a look,” he whispered. “These are his appointment books!”

Danny shone his light on the block numbers below the pictures. Names and times were lightly penciled in on a couple of the dates.

“Look!” said Jack excitedly, pointing to one entry. “Look at the date here, it’s got 1 p.m. and the names Sheila, Rose.”

“Two women getting tattoos!”

“Or someone by the name of Sheila was getting a tattoo of a rose,” whispered Jack. He flipped through the calendar to August. He could feel the tension grip his heart and lungs. His eyes met Danny’s and he slowly shook his head. He turned the page to September.

“It’s here!” shouted Jack, jabbing at an entry with his finger. “Only two weeks after Maggie and Ben Junior were murdered! Take a look!”

Danny looked down at the notation on the calendar. The words Rolly-DD were printed above a brief narrative in brackets, conf Wiz.

“This is it!” Jack said. “Dirty Dog, confirmed by Wizard!” He grabbed Danny by the shoulder. “Remember? Our friend said a hit had to be verified and sanctioned!”

The intensity of Jack’s voice made Danny feel uneasy. He cleared his throat. “The timing seems right, but with the number of murders these guys do, we can’t be positive.”

Jack’s voice was laced with anger. “It’s them, all right. Explains why Rolly isn’t bragging about it. Not much respect for killing children. I bet Wizard was with him.”

“So what do you plan to do? We can’t use any of this as evidence. We’ve got no grounds to get a search warrant.”

“It’s evidence for me!” Jack paused for a moment, then said, “But you’re right, we can’t be positive. We’ll keep digging until we are.”

“Then what?”

Jack let the pages fall back to their original position and walked out the door.

Once inside the car, Jack looked intensely into Danny’s eyes and said, “I know it’s Wizard and Rolly. The timing is right. Rolly got his tattoo … it all falls into place. Our friend said a murder had to be confirmed and sanctioned. Maggie was shot through the door. Until then, they wouldn’t have known that Maggie and Ben Junior were there. Rolly would have never risked phoning anyone to sanction the hit. Wizard had to have been with him.”

“Or someone else who was executive. That’s if it was Rolly who did it.”

“Wizard arranged the original shipment and Rolly handled the delivery. The two of them killed Lenny and tried to kill me. I know it’s them. We’ll do their places tomorrow night.”

Jack hadn’t raised his voice, but there was no mistaking the cold look in his eyes and the venom in his voice.

Danny wondered if Jack would wait until tomorrow night to look for more evidence. He cleared his throat and said, “If it was Wizard and Rolly who were there, it’s still possible that they were with another dope dealer. Someone else might have murdered them as well.”

“When I get my hands on them, I’ll find out!”

Danny knew that the time had come. “Jack, let’s go to the seawall. We need to talk.”

“I don’t feel like drinking right now.”

“You might when you hear what I have to say.”

Jack jumped down from where he was sitting on the seawall and took a couple of angry steps in the sand before turning to confront Danny. “I should have known from the first time I worked with you! You stabbed someone in the back that night! Now you’re stabbing me!”

“I’m not stabbing you in the back! I’ve never told Wigmore anything, except for that first night about you going in the Black Water, and I covered for that later.”

“Well you sure as hell didn’t tell me anything, either! I thought we were partners! You’re supposed to talk with your partner! Why the hell are you telling me now? Do you expect me to forgive you? Tell you I’ll understand? What?”

“Jesus. You sound like Susan,” muttered Danny. “That’s what she said.” He then looked up to the sky, holding his hands to the heavens, and yelled, “I’m not asking for forgiveness!”

“Then what are you asking for?”

“I’m just telling you so you know what’s going on. You do anything rash and Wigmore will be all over the both of us. I’m trying to protect your ass as much as mine! I told you because you are my partner and I’m not ratting you out!”

“When did you tell Susan?”

“This afternoon.”

“You waited until now to tell her?”

“Yes, and now she’s scared. I knew she would be.”

“Worried about her family,” said Jack, his voice calming down.

Danny nodded and said, “Yeah. That and she’s really pissed at me.”

“So am I. You should have told me sooner.”

Jack walked back to the car and got in as Danny reached for the passenger door. It was locked. Jack gestured at Danny with his middle finger and then drove away.

Danny waved his fist and shouted, “You son of a bitch!”

It took Danny an hour to walk out of the park and find a taxi to the office. It was another forty-five minutes before he arrived home.

He was shocked to see Jack’s car blocking his garage door. He parked on the street and got out of his car as the front door to his house opened. He saw Jack putting on his coat. Susan, holding a glass of wine, laughed at something he said. She gave him a hug and kissed him on the cheek. Jack walked toward his car.

Danny stood in the driveway with his mouth hanging open. Susan looked at Danny and yelled, “Hi, honey! Glad you finally made it home!”

Jack unlocked his car and glanced across the roof at Danny. “See you at the office at ten tomorrow night. Let me know if you’re bringing an arrest team so I can get a lawyer.” He then drove away.

Danny went inside his house. “What’s going on? Do you know that the son of a bitch dumped me in a park tonight? I had to take a cab…”

“I know,” snickered Susan. “Want some wine? Oops! Guess there’s none left.”

“What’s going on? Why are you so happy all of a sudden?”

Susan turned to face Danny. Her voice became serious and she said, “Jack told me that he would always protect you and our family — even if you are a bone-head. He said I had his word on that.”

Danny didn’t respond.

“Do you think Jack’s word is good?”

“Jack’s word is good.”

“I thought so. I respect him. Trust him, too, to do what he says.”

Danny sighed, then said, “It all sounds nice, but how do you protect yourself from someone like Wigmore?”

“That bastard! You hadn’t mentioned that he accused me and you of having a threesome with Crystal!”

“Jack shouldn’t have told you that part.”

“I’m glad he did. He has a plan. He said I could help. I’m looking forward to it.”

“What do you mean? He’s got a plan? You’re not getting involved with this shit.”

“Wigmore tried to fuck with my family! You’re damn right I’m getting involved!”

“What plan? What does he want you to do?”

“Talk, talk, talk. I’m horny. Let’s go to bed.”

“Tell me about the plan!”

“It starts off with the two of us having sex.”

“What?”

“That’s what Jack said I’m to do. Oh yeah, and tell you I love you because he says you really love me.”

“Jack said that?”

“Yup. Then we fuck Wigglemore after.”

“That’s Wigmore. And I don’t like it when you swear.”

“It’s your fault. I swear when I’m horny.”

chapter twenty-five

Jack listened to the news on Friday afternoon. “Vancouver City Police recorded the city’s largest ever seizure of methamphetamine around noon today. Fifty kilos of the drug were seized at the train station. Police attribute the seizure to an anonymous tip received by the police in Montreal. A juvenile from Montreal was arrested, along with a local man known in the underworld by the unusual name of Halibut. His real name…”

Jack’s telephone rang a minute later.

“You hear the news?” asked Danny.

“Sounds like the narcs will be happy with Eddy Trimble. Bet I could get them to buy me a beer.”

“No kidding! You were right about Bart and Rex. They’re trustworthy.”

“They even threw in the bit about the anonymous call in Montreal. They’re not only trustworthy, but they’re doing their best to protect me.”

“Or Eddy Trimble.”

“Whatever. It’s good news. This is just the beginning. I told you there would be no stopping us now. How’s Susan?”

“Her head hurts a little, no thanks to you, but she’s fine. We had a good talk last night. Thanks. I really owe you.”

“Talk? That’s not what I told her to do to you!”

Danny paused, then said, “Right. She fucked some sense into me, too.”

Jack chuckled and Danny continued, “Susan said you have a plan to get Wigmore off my back?”

“I haven’t worked out all the finer details. We’ll have to wait until Monday when he returns, but trust me, by then I’ll have it together. Need a woman to help us, though.”

“Susan’s primed. She wants to help.”

“Good. See you tonight at the office.”

“This time I’m driving!” yelled Danny. He was too late. Jack had hung up.

Danny checked his watch. The search of Wizard’s penthouse apartment hadn’t taken long. All they had found was a .357 magnum revolver stuck in a holster fixed to the back of a bedside table. None of the phone numbers they located had prefixes for outside the city.

“That was quick,” whispered Danny. “Took us less than fifteen minutes. Do you still plan on doing Rolly’s? His place is an old house; it’s going to take a lot longer.”

“Yes, I plan on doing Rolly’s! Just give me a minute.”

Jack took the .357 from its holster and stuck the barrel of the gun deep down into the dirt of a houseplant. He then tamped the dirt in the barrel with his pen, wiped off the outside of the gun, and replaced it in the holster.

“Maybe if we get lucky it’ll blow up in his face,” said Jack bitterly, ushering Danny out the door.

Danny’s silence as Jack drove to Rolly’s house betrayed his troubled thoughts.

“You’re quiet,” said Jack.

“Thinking about what you did with the piece back there.”

“Think it’s wrong? If he shoots at you it won’t seem wrong.”

“If we do find out Wizard and Rolly killed your sister’s kids, what do you plan to do?”

Jack parked a block down the street from Rolly’s house and they walked the remaining distance. It was in an older district that was heavily treed. A few street lights lit up the street, but the neighbourhood appeared to be asleep.

Only the top half of Rolly’s two-storey house was visible in the moonlight. It was completely surrounded by large cedar trees and was set back from the road. An eight-foot chain-link fence encircled the property at the edge of the treeline. Three strands of barbed wire stood out at an angle from the top of the fence, adding more height. A gate across the driveway was padlocked shut and bathed by floodlights.

Danny looked at the chain-link fence and then at Jack. “Well?”

“The gate’s out in the open.” Jack looked up at the fence and added, “My back and arm are still a little tender, but I can make it. It’ll be safer than picking the padlock. These trees should give us enough protection from the street.”

Minutes later, Danny was at the top of the fence. He flung his jacket over the strands of barbed wire before making his way down the other side. Jack eased himself over the top and climbed down to join him.

A low growl caused both men to leap for the fence. Danny reached the top as Jack yelled in pain. The German shepherd had its teeth clenched on a torn strip of his pants and he was slowly dragging the dog up the fence.

“He’s got me! Do something!” said Jack, gritting his teeth as the snarling dog shook its head in a frenzy while dangling from the torn cloth.

“I bet this is the dog the pervert used with Marcie! What do you think?”

“Christ! I don’t know! Do something!”

“Shake him off!”

“It’s all I can do to hang on! If I fall there won’t be enough of me left to make a stir-fry!”

“Want me to shoot ’im?”

“No. The noise will wake up the neighbours! If Rolly sees his dog dead…”

Danny watched as Jack tried to shake his leg. The cloth tore a little more, but then held fast at the seam at the bottom of his ankle. Danny eased back down the fence and kicked the dog squarely on top of the head. The dog didn’t let go, but Jack’s fingers slipped a notch.

“Don’t! Watch … Oh, great! Lights!”

Across the street a neighbour’s upstairs light had come on. Jack tossed his gun, keys, and one ankle boot over the fence as another interior light came on. Then he undid his belt. Seconds later, he clambered down the fence as the front porch light was turned on.

The door opened, and a man in a housecoat stepped out onto the porch and walked over to the railing and stood looking toward the fence.

Jack and Danny lay on the ground while Danny peered at the man from behind a tree.

On the other side of the fence, the dog took out its frustration by shredding Jack’s pants and grinding them into the dirt.

“What’s he doing? Did he see us?”

“I don’t think so. He’s just standing there,” whispered Danny, glancing back at his half-naked partner. “What should we do if he comes over?”

“Pretend we’re gay.”

Danny’s silent prayer was answered when the man went back inside.

“He’s gone. Now what?” asked Danny.

“Wait a few minutes to make sure he’s not still watching, then get the car and take me home. We’ve still got tomorrow night to come up with something.”

They watched as the dog quit growling, picked up Jack’s pants, and trotted back toward the house.

“Just like he’s bringing home a trophy,” said Danny.

Jack’s reply was inaudible as he limped over to pick up his gun, keys, and boot.

Jack glanced back inside the compound. The dog had returned, without the pants, and was standing over his other ankle boot, staring back, as if daring him to try to retrieve it.

A short time later, Danny eased the car over to the curb in front of Jack’s apartment, and Jack hobbled inside. With the interior light on, Danny saw the blood seeping through Jack’s fingers as he held his leg.

“You’re hurt!”

“He took a chunk out of my calf, but I don’t think it’s as bad as it looks,” said Jack, easing his hand off.

“You might need stitches.”

“Damn it!”

“Natasha?” asked Danny.

Jack groaned. “I guess I’d better. I’m not going to Emergency like this. She’s home now.”

“Great!” replied Danny enthusiastically.

“What do you mean, great?”

“I want to see how you explain losing your pants.”

Danny chuckled. “Almost makes up for dumping me in the park last night.”

“Slow down and make sure we don’t get stopped for speeding,” grumbled Jack.

Twenty-four hours later, Jack and Danny sat in a brown four-door sedan. It belonged to a Highway Patrol unit. There were no markings on the car, but with a thick Plexiglas shield between the front and back seat, most people could easily identify it as a police car. They slowly drove up the alley behind Rolly’s house.

They got out of the car and walked up to the fence. Jack picked up a handful of gravel from the lane and tossed it over the fence. The dog appeared instantly, pressing its jaws up against the fence to reveal a snarling, salivating mouth full of teeth.

“Good,” said Jack. “Keep him here for about ten minutes while I pick the lock, then bring him around front. Don’t stumble!”

“You don’t have to tell me,” responded Danny.

Ten minutes later, Danny made his way around to the gate while the dog, emitting a deep, low growl, stalked him on the other side of the fence.

Jack had positioned the car alongside the gate. Both back doors of the car were open and Jack waved to him from the front seat.

“God, I’m fucking crazy to be doing this!” Danny took off his jacket and swatted it against the fence. The dog snarled louder, leaping at the fence. Danny then raced over and crawled partway into the back of the police car.

“Okay, go for it!”

From the front seat, Jack leaned out the partially open window and shoved the gate slightly open. Danny, looking out the open car door across from him, shook his jacket once more as the dog lunged into the car after him. He immediately backed out, slamming the door. Jack slammed the door from the other side. Seconds later they drove off as the dog, realizing it was trapped, went into a frenzy and started shredding the upholstery with its teeth.

They parked the car a short distance from the house. As both men got out of the car, chunks of upholstery and stuffing rained down within.

“It looks like it’s snowing in there!” said Danny. “HP is going to be pissed!”

“Makes up for the ticket they gave me last year. Hope he doesn’t eat his way into the front before we get back.”

They crept up the steps leading into the back of Rolly’s house. A spiked dog collar tied to a heavy chain lay on the porch. The chain led down the steps and was wrapped around a tree in front of a large doghouse. Two empty aluminum dog dishes lay upside down in the dirt. Both had holes chewed through the rims. The remnants of Jack’s pants were hanging out of the doghouse.

“This is a good omen,” whispered Danny. “We’ve already found your pants.”

“Wonderful. Next week is Halloween. I’ll go dressed as dog food.”

Danny heard the door open and saw Jack step inside.

“Christ, you’re fast! You’re going to have to teach me someday,” said Danny in amazement.

“Thanks. But it wasn’t locked.”

Danny glanced at the dog collar. “I can see why.”

They started their search in the three bedrooms upstairs. The furnishings in two of the bedrooms consisted only of dirty mattresses lying on the floor. There was a dresser in the main bedroom, and Jack searched through the drawers. Danny spotted a shotgun leaning against the wall and carefully picked it up.

“Loaded?” asked Jack.

Danny nodded, putting the shotgun down.

It was an hour and a half later when they finished their search. They found a few telephone numbers in a kitchen drawer, but again, none were for outside the city.

“Well, at least we tried,” said Jack. “Let’s get out of here before the sun comes up. We’ve still got to return the dog.”

“Yeah. Hope he leaves on his own so I don’t have to coax ’im out,” replied Danny, feeling apprehensive.

Outside the house, Danny watched as Jack retrieved his pants from the doghouse, then got down on his knees and shone his flashlight inside.

“Do you see your shoe?”

“What’s left of it.” Jack reached inside and pulled out a badly mangled ankle boot.

Danny was about to go, but Jack stayed kneeling, staring at the doghouse.

“You coming?” whispered Danny.

“This floor is thick.”

Danny shrugged. “Just insulated to keep the poor little puppy off the ground.”

“They’d do that for the mutt but not bother to leave it any food or water while they go away for a couple of days?”

Jack moved his flashlight beam across the floor of the doghouse. It was covered with short, dark green outdoor carpeting, which was glued down, except along one wall where it had been cut slightly too large to fit the floor.

He pulled back the carpet to reveal a plywood floor. A small grubby knothole was visible in the plywood. He stuck his finger in the knothole and pulled. The floor of the doghouse lifted like a page in a book.

A compartment underneath held a brown leather case. He carefully lifted it out and undid the zipper, shining his light inside.

“Well?” asked Danny breathlessly.

“Take a look,” said Jack, holding the case open.

Danny looked in and saw some handguns, stacks of money held together by elastic bands, and a large brown envelope.

“Look at all the cash,” said Jack. “These are thousand-dollar bills!”

“Yet he still has dirty mattresses on the floor in two of the bedrooms?”

“Guess you can’t make a silk purse out of a pig’s ear. Come on, let’s go back inside and take a better look. There’s a downstairs washroom without any windows. We can close the door and turn on the light.”

Danny noticed the sky was beginning to lighten but didn’t say anything as he followed Jack into the house.

Jack carefully pulled the contents of the leather case out onto the floor. There were three .22-calibre handguns.

“Do you think these have been used?”

Jack shook his head as he picked up the brown envelope. “I doubt it. Our friend said they throw them away after each hit.”

“Pass me those bundles. I’ll start counting. Let’s see how much he’s got.”

Jack didn’t respond as he stared into the brown envelope. His face became mottled.

“Jack? … Jack? What is it?”

Jack silently passed Danny the envelope.

It was stuffed with newspaper clippings. For a moment, Danny didn’t understand, until he saw the bold lettering of one caption: GRISLY MURDER OF TWO CHILDREN — Discovered by mother…

Danny pulled the newspaper clippings from the envelope. Most of the clippings were about the children’s murder. One clipping was different. It was about another murder that had taken place three days ago. The article said: Bobby Singh, a 29-year-old man who police believe was involved in the drug trade, was found shot to death in his home Wednesday night by relatives who…”

Jack pointed his finger beside the man’s name. Someone had written “2” in ink.

“Look at Ben Junior’s name,” said Jack.

Danny flipped back the pages and looked. Beside Ben Junior’s name, someone had written “1” in ink.

“Rolly murdered Ben Junior,” said Jack. “He’s even keeping score! Bobby Singh was his second victim. He didn’t put a number beside Maggie’s name. Probably because Wizard killed her.”

“We can’t be sure,” replied Danny.

“Can’t we? Then you give me another explanation for it!” yelled Jack.

“How can you be sure it was Wizard?”

“He’s the one who vouched for Rolly’s tattoo! And he already has the Dirty Dog tattoo. That’s what Maggie was drawing when she was killed.”

“It still doesn’t confirm he killed her.”

“You’re saying you don’t think he did it?” asked Jack incredulously.

“I didn’t say that, but it would never stand up in court.”

“Court! What the hell does court have to do with anything? None of this will stand up! We can’t use this! We don’t even have grounds for a search warrant! Who’s talking about court?”

“So what do we do then?” asked Danny, his voice cracking. “Do you set yourself up as judge, jury, and executioner? What if it wasn’t Wizard? Okay, I’ll admit Rolly had a hand in it, but what if it wasn’t Wizard? It’s just … could you live with there being any doubt as to who did kill Maggie? Wondering if a third person was there, maybe another dealer, and Wizard only saw what happened.”

Jack didn’t respond for a moment. He sat on the floor, breathing like he had run a marathon. Eventually his breathing returned to normal. “Okay,” he said. “You want more proof? I’ll get it for you!”

The sound of birds chirping outside told Danny that now was not the time to ask how.

Jack picked up one of the handguns and walked out of the bathroom and over to a plant in the living room. He looked back at Danny. “Are you going to help?”

Danny looked down at the remaining two guns. This is wrong. Everything I’m doing is wrong.

“Forget it, I’ll do it myself,” said Jack, plunging the barrel of the gun into the dirt.

chapter twenty-six

It was daybreak when Jack pulled alongside Danny’s car in the office parking lot.

“So we take tonight off? That’s what you said.”

Jack nodded. His face looked grim.

“You’re not going to do anything…?”

Jack shook his head and said, “In my heart, I know you’re right about needing more proof. I’m convinced about Rolly, but Wizard, or whoever they were meeting, is another story. Our friend gets back from the ride today. We’ll meet him first thing tomorrow morning.”

“You’ve already got a game plan, don’t you?”

“I know what I’d like to do, but I don’t think you’d want to hear about it.”

Danny sucked in a deep breath. “Christ, Jack, we’re supposed to be cops, for God’s sake.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“We’ve got a good informant. Let’s get a wiretap for drug trafficking. It might lead to some dealer up the Valley that we don’t know about.”

“Then what? They’re not dumb enough to say anything over the phone. If we run wire we’ll have to bring more people into it, which means more risk for our friend.”

“What’s your plan, then?” asked Danny nervously.

“Turn up the pressure on our friend.”

“Too much pressure and he’s liable to do something stupid.”

“I’ve decided to chance it. I’ll call him tonight and set up an early morning meet. I’ll pick you up at five-thirty tomorrow morning. If he hasn’t received any heat over those fifty keys, then I’m going to put the screws to him.”

“Hope you know what you’re doing. This could get pretty hairy.”

“Hairy is okay. It’s bloody that you have to watch out for. But you’re right, so let’s take today off. Do something special with Susan. You owe it to her. She’s a great lady.”

“I know.”

“We’ve got almost twenty-four hours. I plan on spending it with Natasha.”

“That’s right! Today is the big day,” Danny said, lightly punching Jack on the arm.

“She’s just meeting Liz and Ben.”

“Don’t be nervous. They’ll like her. Susan and I do.”

“I’m not nervous. Good night!”

It was noon when Natasha walked into her bedroom and gently shook Jack’s shoulder. “Come on, sleepyhead, breakfast is ready.”

Jack groaned and looked at the clock on Natasha’s dresser. “Why so early?”

“It’s not early. Besides, I’m keyed up. Think I need to expend some energy,” she said, reaching under the sheets and running her hand up the inside of his thigh.

“It’s only my sister and her husband.”

“Oh? So it’s not a big deal?”

Jack reached for Natasha’s head and pulled her face close to his. He smiled and said, “Yeah, it’s a big deal. At least Liz thinks so. Speaking of which, you better have an appetite. Her Sunday dinners are always great.”

“Is that the way to your heart? Through your mouth?”

Jack grinned, then said, “Not necessarily. Your hand may have found another way.” He kissed her as her bathrobe fell to the floor.

As they finished breakfast and started clearing dishes, Jack thought about their visit to the farm … and about Marcie. What type of image did The Suit portray to others? What would his profile consist of? He decided to tell Natasha about The Suit. How he provided the bikers with secret police information and the ugly details of his attack on Marcie.

Natasha’s face expressed her horror. “Give me a minute to think about it.” She was quiet as she slowly collected her thoughts. She saw the grim look on Jack’s face as he stood drying the same dish over and over again. Finally she said, “He’s sick. Really sick.”

“All those years of medical school and you tell me he’s sick? Incorrect answer, doctor! I want something more professional. A psychiatric profile to help identify him.”

“I know. Just hang on.” She drained the kitchen sink before taking the towel from Jack’s grasp and tossing it on the counter. “Hold me a sec.” She wrapped her arms around his waist. He saw that she had tears in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about my work, let alone this.”

“No, it’s okay. I knew something appalling had happened to her. I just didn’t know how awful.” She wiped her eyes with her fingers, then continued, “Psychiatry is not my field of expertise, but considering what he did to Marcie, I would say you’re looking for someone in a position of power or authority.”

“Like a policeman?” Jack said it as a question but meant it more as a statement.

“Perhaps. It’s no coincidence that the mask he wore was of the president of the United States. This is a guy who wants absolute power. He likely portrays a perfect, strong image, yet deep down inside he is very insecure. He would detest feeling like anyone had any power over him. The type of person who would strongly object to something as benign as, say, a seat belt law, because he would feel that it implies that someone has power over him by telling him what to do.”

“So I’m looking for a guy who doesn’t wear a seat belt?”

“He might wear it, only to present a perfect image, but would despise the nuance of power that he believes it holds over him.”

“Ah, that makes it easier,” said Jack bitterly.

“I’m sorry. I’m just telling you what —”

“No. Don’t be sorry. I appreciate what you’re telling me, it just upsets me that I don’t know who he is. I wonder if he’s ever sought treatment?”

“He might have if he had been caught and thought it would keep him out of jail. In reality, I suspect that he is so twisted that he doesn’t see himself as the perverted, sick animal that he is. He has a psychopathic personality. Someone without a conscience. He would stridently defend his belief that it is okay to molest children, except he knows it would tarnish his image or perhaps get him caught.”

“So your final diagnosis is…?”

“He’s like a rabid dog. I don’t believe there is any cure for someone like that.”

“Maybe a bullet.”

Jack cringed as soon as he said it. She’s a doctor. She saves lives.

Natasha’s face was without expression. She chose her words carefully. “Killing him would be like eradicating an infectious disease. You would be doing society a favour. The risk is contamination — that you could become infected and be viewed as having rabies yourself.”

The meaning of her words was not lost on Jack, but a more important issue crowded his brain. He realized he was afraid of something that had never bothered him before. He thought about what he was going to do tomorrow — and became afraid of dying. The prospect of not being with Natasha… He felt a strong desire to tell her how much he loved and admired her, but the timing wasn’t right. Talking about murder and molestation … it wasn’t a topic for love.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“I’m thinking that my ethics could never become infected, as long as I have you as my guiding light. Having you makes me think that I would never want to face … quarantine.”

“Good. Promise me you’ll keep it that way.”

“I promise.”

Natasha hugged him. He felt her warm face on his neck and held her there for a long time.

Late that afternoon, Jack watched as Natasha, Liz, and Ben chattered like long-time friends. Marcie sat in the living room as well, but she was mostly silent, keeping her thoughts to herself. When Liz excused herself to check on dinner, Jack followed her into the kitchen.

“Need a hand with anything?” he asked.

“No, I was just checking. Everything is under control.”

Jack stayed and looked at his sister.

Liz smiled, then whispered, “I think she’s great. Intelligent, beautiful, charming. Witty with a good sense of humour. Yes, I like her. Is that what you came in to find out?”

Jack grinned.

“She also seems open and honest. I can tell that Ben likes her, too.”

“Thanks, sis, it means a lot to me that —”

“Anything I can do to help?” Natasha asked.

Jack spun around quickly. “Uh, no. Liz and I were just coming back to sit down.”

“Oh? Talking about me, were you?”

A laugh escaped from Elizabeth’s lips, then she said, “Add perceptive to the list!”

Liz and Natasha took delight in announcing that Jack was blushing when they returned to the living room to join Ben.

Jack changed the subject by asking, “Where’s Marcie?”

“She went to the barn to toss a couple of bales down for the animals,” Ben replied. “She shouldn’t be long.”

“How are you all doing? It’s been two weeks.”

Ben and Liz exchanged glances, then Ben said, “She’s a really good kid. A hard worker. Maybe working too hard. It’s like she’s always underfoot.”

“Sounds like she’s trying to please you.”

“She’s been volunteering for everything, from helping Liz in the house to wanting to help me on the farm. On top of that, she’s doing about three hours of homework every night.”

“She’s a bright kid,” said Liz. “I’ve been checking with the school. She’s missed the first six weeks, but they said that at the rate she’s going, they expect her to catch up soon.”

“What about the psychologist?”

“She’s had two meetings so far. Now she’s scheduled for one a week.” Liz looked at Natasha and said, “I talked to the psychologist; she said that Marcie has post stress disorder.”

“PTSD,” replied Natasha. “Post-traumatic stress disorder. Yes, I’m sure that diagnosis is correct. Considering her history, she may need a lot of counselling.”

“That’s what we were told.”

“So what’s the problem?” asked Jack. “I feel like you’re holding something back.”

Ben and Liz exchanged another glance, then Liz said, “Don’t get me wrong on this. We both think she’s a really great kid.”

“That’s what you’ve been telling me on the phone. What’s changed?”

Ben cleared his throat, then said, “Last Thursday … maybe I overreacted, but Liz was pretty upset.”

“It’s not Ben’s fault,” said Liz. “I was the one who overreacted. I went in her room and she was drawing pictures on sheets of paper. Not nice pictures. Pictures of people crying and sticking needles in their arms. Then I realized that the sheets of paper were ones that Maggie had drawn pictures on. On the other side. I started to cry and that’s when Ben came in.”

“I yelled at her. Told her to keep her damn hands off stuff that wasn’t hers. I apologized to her later, but she acts like she doesn’t hear. Not rude. More like her mind is elsewhere. She’s hardly spoken to us since. Not working much anymore, either. Stays in her room a lot.”

“She was expressing her feelings through the drawings,” said Natasha. “It’s actually a good sign. The therapeutic value of art is well recognized and respected.”

“Maybe, but not on Maggie’s pictures,” said Ben.

“I know she feels really bad,” said Liz. “This morning she gave me a little glass mouse. She used to have it in her room. I told her to keep it, but she just acted indifferent. It’s there … on the fireplace mantle.”

Natasha saw the cute crystal mouse peeking out from the mantle over the large stone fireplace. “Why don’t you buy a big scrapbook for her to use?” she suggested.

“I did,” said Ben. “I gave it to her yesterday, but I don’t think she’s used it.”

Jack looked at Natasha and she gave a slight nod of her head. “We’ll go talk with her.”

“We’re not upset with her now,” said Liz, “but she’s been real quiet ever since. I’d appreciate it if you would tell her that we’re not angry. She acts like she doesn’t believe us.”

A few minutes later, Jack and Natasha climbed a ladder inside the barn leading to an open trap door in the loft. Marcie was batting a rope back and forth that was hanging from the open doors at the end of the loft.

“Hey, Marcie! What ya doin’?” asked Jack.

Marcie looked startled. “Just playing,” she said.

“You looked like you were in pretty deep thought,” said Natasha. “Is there something bothering you?”

“No.”

“What were you playing?” asked Jack, as he gave the rope a slap and watched it swing out the open doors at the end of the loft.

“I don’t know. I was just thinking it would be fun to swing out in the yard … but if I fell and hurt myself, I guess it wouldn’t be good.”

“Jack could tie a big knot at the end of the rope. You could stand on it and it would be safer.”

Jack caught the rope in his hand and spoke to Marcie while tying a large knot. “It wouldn’t be good if you hurt yourself. I would be upset. So would Liz and Ben.”

“No, they wouldn’t. They’re mad at me. I did a stupid thing. But what else is new,” she mumbled.

“They told us about that, but they’re not angry with you at all,” said Natasha. “As a matter of fact, they were just bragging to us about how much help you’ve been and how hard you’ve been tackling your school work.”

“Listening to them,” said Jack, “makes me really proud of you. They’re really happy with you. They’re definitely not angry with you. In fact, I think the three of you help each other much more than you realize.”

“That’s nice they said that.” She looked at her watch. “I bet dinner is ready. We should go.”

Natasha found out that Jack had not exaggerated how great the meal would be. The simplicity of the roasted free-range chicken, scalloped potatoes, and broccoli with hollandaise sauce made for a homey, mouth-watering meal. She wasn’t surprised at the freshly baked apple pie with ice cream for dessert. The aroma of the pie had greeted her when she first arrived.

Supper conversation was easygoing, which she appreciated. The occasional friction of Jack’s knee rubbing against her leg brought on fantasies of a primal nature. More intellectual conversation would have been difficult.

After dinner, she insisted on helping Liz clean up in the kitchen, while Ben went to get wood for the fireplace. She saw Jack and Marcie escape the work detail as they headed outside to walk off dinner. She didn’t mind; it gave her time alone with Liz. Time to squeeze any stories out of her about Jack. Either as a child, or as a man.

Liz told her about Ben’s heart attack and how Jack spent every spare minute he had working on the farm until Ben slowly regained his strength. She said something else. Jack was really good with Maggie and Ben Junior. He’d been like a second dad to them.

“In case you wanted to know that,” said Liz, with a smirk on her face.

Natasha smiled. “It’s good to know,” she replied.

Later, they had coffee in the living room. Marcie seemed happier and joined in on the conversation. At nine o’clock, Marcie announced that it was her bedtime, and Natasha realized that it was time to go.

They said good night at the door. Jack gave Marcie a hug first, then Liz. Natasha saw Ben standing back. He looked shy. She smiled and gave him a hug. His arms were huge and strong. She felt like a child in his grasp.

Liz hugged her and whispered, “You take good care of my little brother.”

“I will,” she whispered back.

It was then she noticed Marcie in the living room, standing on her tiptoes at the fireplace. She picked up the glass mouse and took it with her as she headed down the hall to her bedroom.

Natasha glanced at Jack. He looked pleased. She felt good too. She liked Jack’s family, and she knew she loved Jack. Her only disappointment for the day was that Jack wouldn’t spend the night with her. He had an early morning engagement — one that was important enough that she could not convince him to stay.

chapter twenty-seven

It was six-thirty on Monday morning when Jack and Danny finished their coffee in a small restaurant adjacent to a large cemetery.

“Time?” asked Danny.

“It’s time,” replied Jack.

Danny punched the numbers into his cellphone. Superintendent Wigmore was getting dressed for work when he answered the call.

“Sir? It’s Danny O’Reilly.”

“O’Reilly! Well, well. Aren’t you the punctual one. What have you decided?”

“Sir, I’ve only got a few minutes. I’m at a coffee shop. Jack is here, too, but he just went to the washroom.”

“So you’ve decided to come clean? Tell me what Taggart is up to? Or, should I say, what the two of you have been up to?”

“Yes, sir, but a lot has happened this last week. Taggart thinks he knows who killed his niece and nephew. Two bikers from Satans Wrath.”

“How does he figure that?”

“We turned a good informant. Someone inside the club.”

“Turning an informant in Satans Wrath? Just like that? Come on, O’Reilly! What’s been going on?”

“Sir, it’s a long story, and I can’t talk right now. Basically, I’m afraid of what Jack will do to the men who did this. He trusts me completely and tells me everything. He said that he’s thinking of getting them. Wants to take a week or two and plan how to do it.”

“A week or two? This is good…. We have time. Meet me tonight at the Oceanside and we’ll go over everything. Then I’ll take it to Internal and we’ll come up with a plan.”

“Tonight isn’t good, sir. Jack wants me to work surveillance with him the next couple of nights. If I slip away, he might get suspicious. Wednesday night would be better.” Danny’s voice suddenly became more official and he said, “Sorry, no. You’ve got the wrong number.”

“Taggart is back, I take it?”

“Yes, that is this number,” said Danny.

“Okay, no problem. Call me at home Wednesday night to set up a time to meet.”

A few minutes later, Wigmore left his apartment and walked to his car. He was irritated when he saw that someone had left an empty liquor bottle standing on the roof of his car. He picked the bottle up and looked at the label. Glennfiddich … my brand. Too bad someone hadn’t left a full one! He set the bottle by the curb before driving off.

At the same time, Jack and Danny walked up a grassy knoll in a cemetery. The ground was soaked from an overnight rain and the air was crisp. Leaves had already fallen, exposing black branches to the grey sky. Some of the upright grave markers were silhouetted on the crest of the hill. The business towers and high-rise apartments on the horizon were still lit up.

“Whose idea was it to meet here?”

“Mine. If our friend doesn’t cooperate, I’m going to send you back to the car to get some stuff from the trunk.”

“What stuff?”

“A blanket and —”

“Over here!” Lance yelled.

Jack and Danny had reached the crest of the hill and saw Lance sitting on a marble tombstone.

“How’s it goin’?” asked Jack. “Are you taking any heat over Halibut getting busted?”

Lance shook his head. “Naw, they figure it was one of two things. Either the heat came from Montreal like they said on the news, or else the cops threw that out as a red herring and were really following Halibut all along. If they decide the heat was on Halibut, it will look bad for Rolly.”

“Why Rolly?” asked Jack. “Come on, we can walk as we talk,” he added.

Lance stood up and joined Jack and Danny as they slowly walked through the cemetery.

“Wizard gave Rolly shit this weekend,” continued Lance. “He told Rolly that he should have used Dragon because the heat had been on Halibut before, when we whacked Lenny. Not much else was said about it, but Damien is pissed off. It’s caused a bit of a stink in the club.”

“Why is that?” asked Danny.

“This was only the second shipment. Now the guys back east are pointing fingers at us, saying we screwed up, and we’re pointing fingers back at them.”

“Speaking of Damien,” said Jack, “how come you’re not an executive officer? Maybe not national pres, but you’ve got more brains than Wizard. You could be president or vice-president of your chapter. You’ve got a lot of years in.”

Lance shrugged. “Wizard is smarter than he looks. He’s got a good chance of beating Damien out for national pres. The election takes place in a couple of weeks. Presidents from all the chapters in the country will be flyin’ in to vote.”

“You think Wizard is in the running?”

“Definitely. He’s fluent in French and has a lot of support from the guys back east. He’s been down there schmoozing with them. It was him who set up the speed connection.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you haven’t made executive level.”

“It’s a lot less hassle just being one step removed from executive. Less work, but you’re still respected and not stuck with a lot of the shit jobs.”

“Start campaigning. We want you to be an executive officer.”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, I could see that comin’.”

“Anything else going on?” asked Jack.

“Don’t know if you’re interested, but I heard Damien telling Wizard that he was flying down to the Grand Caymans for a week. Damien said that if they couldn’t reach him for any reason when he was gone, then Wizard would act as national president. He left last night and is coming back next Sunday.”

Jack stopped walking and stood beside a fresh grave. He prodded the dirt lightly with the toe of his ankle boot and said, “Doing a little banking, is he?”

Lance chuckled, then said, “Yeah, probably. Doesn’t say and I don’t ask.”

“Speaking of asking,” Jack flashed a glance at Danny, then continued, “I’ve got something for you to ask Rolly.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Did you hear about those two little kids who were killed in a farmhouse up the Valley? Eight weeks ago?”

“Yeah. Is that when it was? I only know what I heard in the news.”

“Rolly killed the little boy.”

“What? You certain?”

“I’m positive. I think Wizard did the little girl. I want you to talk to them about it. Find out if they were with someone else.”

“You don’t ask questions like that! Forget it!”

“You will ask! I’m not giving you any choice in this!” yelled Jack.

“Fuck you! I’m not doin’ it!”

Jack flung his car keys at Danny, then tackled Lance by the throat.

Shortly after arriving at work, Wigmore received a call from a man with a nasal voice.

“Superintendent Wigmore speaking.”

“Yes, is this Superintendent Wigglemouth?” came a somewhat mumbled, nervous-sounding reply.

“It’s Superintendent Wigmore!”

“Yes, Superintendent Wigglemore?”

“Wigmore,” he replied, enunciating the name carefully.

“Wrigglemore,” the voice repeated carefully.

“For Christ’s sake! It’s Superintendent Wigmore! W-I-G-M-O-R-E!”

The caller hung up.

It was dusk when Lance walked along a path in Stanley Park. The street lights came on and he nervously looked behind him, didn’t see anyone, then walked up to Wizard and Rolly, who were sitting on a bench eating popcorn.

They stood up as he approached. Wizard jerked his head toward the path, indicating they should walk as they talked.

“So what’s the deal?” said Wizard gruffly. “How come ya want to meet us out here?”

“The deal is,” said Lance, his voice trembling, “I got a real nasty visit from two cops this morning.”

“What the fuck did they want?” said Rolly with a higher than normal laugh.

“They wanted me to become a rat is what they fuckin’ wanted!”

“What!” said Wizard incredulously. “What were they, two rookies tryin’ to give away a handful of cash?”

“These weren’t fuckin’ rookies,” said Lance. “One guy is fuckin’ crazy. Maybe both of them are, but one for sure. They took me to a graveyard and the crazy one jumps on me and starts chokin’ the shit out of me until I black out. When I come to, he’s still sittin’ on my chest!”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?” said Wizard.

“That ain’t all. Then I see that the other fucker has got a blanket spread out on the ground and is shovellin’ dirt onto it out of a new grave. Pretty fuckin’ obvious what they were plannin’ on doin’ with me!”

“You’re sweatin’ just talkin’ about it! You are fuckin’ serious, ain’t ya?”

“You’re fuckin’ right I’m serious!”

“Why? What the fuck did —”

“The crazy one said I tried to kill him two weeks ago.”

“What?”

“Remember Eddy? Behind the Black Water?”

“Yeah. Did he rat out on us?” asked Rolly.

“Whoever told you he was a rat fucked up real bad. Because Eddy was the crazy one who attacked me this morning! He’s an RCMP officer!”

“Fuckin’ Eddy is a cop?” Wizard looked astonished. “Can’t be!”

“I saw their badges. The crazy one said he’d let me live if I cooperated with them.”

“So what did you tell ’em?” growled Wizard. “How come he didn’t kill ya?”

“Fuck, I was in a bad situation! Then the crazy one says he wants me to testify about Lenny and also wants me to find out what Rolly did with the shotgun he used on some kid!”

“What?” yelled Rolly. “They know about me?”

“I told them I needed a couple days to think about it. I knew if you used a piece to whack someone that you would have tossed it, but I wasn’t gonna tell them that!”

“What made them think I whacked some kid?” spluttered Rolly.

“They know all about you two,” said Lance, while nervously looking around.

The three men stopped talking as a couple jogged towards them, then passed by.

“What do ya mean? What’d they say?” asked Wizard.

“They told me things I didn’t even know. Like they said that Rolly killed a little boy out in some abandoned farmhouse. They said you were with him when he killed the boy and popped the kid’s sister first.”

Wizard immediately grabbed Rolly with both hands around his throat and pinned him back against a tree. “You fuckin’ idiot! Who you been blabbin’ at?”

“Fuckin’ nobody, Wiz, fuckin’ nobody!”

“Then how could they have known?” yelled Wizard. “There was only the three of us there! The Suit wouldn’t have said anything! They even know which one of us did which kid!”

“No way! I haven’t said a fuckin’ word! I swear, not a word!”

Lance looked at Rolly and said, “They told me that you also whacked a guy last week. Someone by the name of Bobby Singh.”

“You stupid, stupid fuckin’ cocksucker!” screamed Wizard, pinning Rolly’s head against the tree and choking him with one hand while punching him in the face. Rolly’s nose crunched like a piece of celery and two teeth slid down the back of his throat like wayward Chiclets.

Rolly screamed out, more in fear than in pain. “Don’t, Wiz! Please! I haven’t said a word! I swear on my mother’s grave!”

“Well, how else could they have found out?” seethed Wizard, slowly releasing his grip. “How the fuck could they have known that unless you’ve been talking?”

Rolly shook his head, spraying blood across his shirt and Wizard’s face. “I haven’t been! No way! Maybe it was The Suit!” Rolly looked at Lance and said, “He’s the one who ordered us to kill the kids. ’Cause they saw him. They was loose ends!”

Wizard slapped Rolly across the face with the back of his hand and said, “The Suit didn’t know about Bobby Singh! How the fuck do you explain that!”

“I don’t know. I just don’t….” Rolly wiped his face with his hands and then wiped his bloody fingers on his pants.

Wizard spun around to face Lance. “So how come they haven’t arrested us yet?”

Before Lance could reply, Wizard continued. “I’ll tell you why! They don’t have enough evidence on anything, or else all three of us would be sittin’ in the slam. It was pretty dark the night we tried to do ’im in the alley. You’re probably the only one the pig can really identify. That fuckin’ scar of yours. Plus the interior light of the car came on when you got out. I bet he’s only guessing about Rolly and me.”

Lance shrugged and said, “I don’t know, but it sounds like they’re thinkin’ of doin’ somethin’ real quick.”

“So who are these two pigs? When did they say they’d get hold of you next?”

“They didn’t say, but the crazy one said he’d be in touch soon, and if I didn’t cooperate he’d either kill me or put me in jail.”

“Are these pigs the narcs from hell, or what?”

“No. They belong to some Intelligence thing, but I don’t know what it’s called.”

“What’s their names?”

“I only know the name of the crazy guy. The guy we thought was Eddy. His real name is Jack Taggart. Don’t know the other guy, but he does what Taggart tells him.”

“See if they’ll give ya their home numbers. Get licence plate numbers, anything to help us find out where they live.”

“I’ll work on it.”

“Yeah, do that. And hurry before they decide to scoop us!”

“Who’s this fuckin’ bozo who told you he was a rat in the first place? It seems to me he’s the one who set us up,” said Lance heatedly.

Wizard reflected for a moment, then said, “I don’t think so. He’s always been right on in the past. Besides, he’d have too much to lose, what with me lining him up with little girls. Not to mention free powder. Naw, our problem lies with these two fuckin’ pigs. I’ll get you to call them … tell ’em you got to meet them. If we whack them, our problems will be over. Especially this Eddy … or Jack, or whatever the fuck his name is.”

“Yeah, but they’re cops!” said Rolly.

“Fuck, what’s the difference? They’re just a couple of guys, same as everyone else.”

“Where and when?” asked Lance.

Wizard slowly looked around. “Why not right here? It would be nice if they’re both together. But if not, just make sure we get the pig from the back alley. He’s the only fucker who could point a finger at us!”

“Yeah, I agree with ya there,” replied Lance.

“One more thing,” said Wizard. “Who else have you told about this?”

“Nobody else knows.”

“Keep it that way. Keep your mouth shut about everything! That means the bros, too. No need for anyone to know about the kids — or the pigs — for now.”

“Fuck, I’m not stupid,” said Lance, looking at Rolly.

“Hey! Wait a minute —”

“Shut up, Rolly!” yelled Wizard, before looking back at Lance. “No, I know you’re not stupid. In fact, before today, I was gonna ask ya if you were interested in somethin’.”

“Interested in what?”

“If I make national pres, what say I back you to replace me as president?”

“You would do that?” Lance noticed the scowl that Rolly gave Wizard.

“Yeah, I’ll do that. We just gotta take care of a few loose ends first.”

“Let me shoot Taggart. He was gonna kill me, so let me return the favour! I wanna pop one in each eyeball. You owe me that!”

Wizard chuckled, then said, “Anxious to get your DD, are you? Yeah, no problem. You can kill ’em both if you want.”

“The fuckin’ heat’s gonna come down real bad,” said Rolly.

“I can handle the heat,” said Wizard. “Nobody should be runnin’ this club who can’t!”

Jack glanced impatiently at his watch. What was keeping Lance? The harsh cry of a seagull over the ocean caused him to look up, but too many trees blocked his view.

Danny sat on the park bench beside him, with his head back and his eyes closed. It looked like he was sleeping. Jack knew better. Stress had reduced both men to silence.

Two children zoomed by on skateboards, but Jack only caught a partial glimpse of them through the trees and shrubbery.

A rustling sound in the bushes behind him told him a squirrel was probably storing food for the winter. It would be peaceful here, he thought, if it weren’t for what they were doing. More comfortable than waiting in a cemetery and thinking about the dead.

Lance walked through the trees toward them. Jack nudged Danny, who sat forward in anticipation.

Lance stood an arm’s length away, staring down at them. For a moment, nobody spoke. The glow of a street light illuminated beads of sweat on Lance’s forehead.

“Well?” asked Jack.

“I’ve got something for ya!” replied Lance, reaching inside his black leather jacket and pulling out a tape recorder. He handed it to Jack and said, “You were right! Wizard wasted the little girl and Rolly did the boy. It’s all here for ya to listen to.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He gripped the recorder tightly to try to stop his hands from trembling.

chapter twenty-eight

Jack unlocked his car and Danny got in beside him while Lance sat in the back. He rewound the tape and pushed “play.” When it reached the place where Wizard admitted that he shot Maggie, he subconsciously ran his fingers across the grip of his pistol. This is it. Time for justice.

He stopped the recorder and looked at Danny. “You wanted proof. Well, we just got it!”

Danny silently nodded.

Jack started the recorder again. Seconds later, he knew he wasn’t done. The Suit! The goddamned Suit ordered them killed! “No! Jesus Christ!” he yelled, slamming his fist into the dash. His eyes brimmed with tears and he bit his lip. He looked in the rear-view mirror and briefly locked eyes with Lance before looking away.

Minutes later, the voices on the tape ended. Danny reached over and shut it off.

Jack sat in silence for a moment to regain his composure, then turned in his seat and spoke to Lance. “You did good. In fact, better than I expected.”

“I’ve never been so fuckin’ scared in all my life. Do you have any idea what they’d have done if they decided to search me and found the recorder?”

Jack nodded.

“So what are ya gonna do with the tape? Use it as evidence?”

“That’s not going to happen. I told you I would protect you and I will.”

“You call today protecting me? Man, this is gonna be a long ten years!”

“It worked out good. I told you that Rolly would get the heat.”

“Yeah, you’re right about that. Wiz smacked him a few good ones. The dumb bastard looks uglier than ever now!”

“I wish I had seen it,” said Jack, “but I didn’t want to take the chance of them spotting any surveillance.”

“So what do we do now?” asked Lance. “These guys are gonna ace ya, and I don’t want any of your buddies thinkin’ I had a part in it.”

“We can stall for the time being,” said Jack. “Tell them we called you and said we’re going out of town for a while. Keep them on the hook. We have to find out who The Suit is!”

“Then what?” asked Lance.

Danny looked at Jack for a reply. Their eyes met briefly, then Jack turned back to Lance. “That’s none of your concern. We’ll look after you. Just make certain you look after us!”

“I hear ya.”

Jack looked at Danny and said, “There’s something personal I need to talk to him about. Wait here.” He took off his gun, put it on the seat beside Danny, and got out of the car.

Moments later, Jack and Lance strolled into a heavily wooded area in the park.

“You got a problem with me from this morning?” asked Jack. “We can deal with it now.”

Lance looked around. There was nobody else in sight. He turned to face off with Jack and said, “I figure I got about three inches on ya, and maybe forty pounds. Plus I notice you still favour your left side. You really think you could take me?”

Jack shrugged and said, “Probably not. That’s why I jumped you by surprise this morning. But that’s not the point.”

“I saw you leave your piece behind.”

“Forget the badge. This time it’s just you and me. You can look at it as payback time.”

“That’s not the only thing I saw back there.”

“What do you mean?”

“This is personal for you, ain’t it? You knew those kids, didn’t you?”

Jack paused for a moment. His stomach muscles had been constricted, expecting to receive a boot or a fist from Lance. He slowly exhaled, then took another breath before replying. “They were my niece and nephew.”

“I figured it was something like that.” Lance was silent for a moment, then said, “If it was any of my kids that got whacked, I figure I would go crazy too. Naw, it’s okay. I don’t have a hard-on for what you did.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Both men continued to walk and Jack asked, “Why didn’t you just go along with them and have us killed?”

“I was wearin’ your recorder. Hard to deny what was said.”

“Yeah, but you could have made an excuse, said you forgot to turn it on or something.”

“I know, I thought about it, but…”

“But what?”

“It wasn’t that it would really bother me to kill you two. It’s just that I’m more upset with guys in the club like Wizard and Rolly.”

“What do you mean?”

“Things have changed. When I was a young fucker, without brains, I used to think it was exciting. Sometimes it was. But not now. Lookin’ back on it, I wish I’d quit years ago.”

“Why?”

“The club’s not what it used to be when I first joined. We used to have good times … go on rides … things were different. Sure, we were a bunch of badasses sometimes, but not like it is today. When I first joined, you’d have never gotten a tattoo for knockin’ off some kid! Fuck, we’d have knocked you off! Now, we hardly ever ride. It’s all about makin’ money. We’ve become a bunch of fuckin’ businessmen. The guys in power just use the club as an image, for protection to make more money.”

“A lot of people like making money.”

“Yeah, but they’re not real bikers, at least, not what we used to be. It just ain’t worth it now. It’ll only be a matter of time before the Vietnamese, the Russians, the Indos, or some other group takes over the business. Being a biker used to represent freedom to do whatever the hell you wanted. Where’s the fuckin’ freedom when you’re always lookin’ over your shoulder wonderin’ when the competition is going to put a slug into ya!”

Jack nodded that he understood.

Lance looked at Jack and said, “Then there’s the heat, but you guys are the least of our worries.” He smiled briefly and added, “Well, I used to think that until I met you.”

“I guess I have put a burr up your ass.”

“You’ve done that, all right.”

“You did good work today. I heard you on the tape, pumping Wizard for information about The Suit. Remember when I said you would be working for us for ten years?”

“How could I forget? Now it’s nine years, fifty-one weeks and two days.”

“Make it five years now.”

“No kiddin’?”

“No kiddin’. If you find out who The Suit is, I’ll say we’re even. If I find out first, then you’re still looking at serving your country for another five years.”

“Deal!” said Lance, sticking out his hand.

Jack felt his firm grasp.

As they shook hands, Lance said, “One more thing,” and buried his left fist deep into Jack’s midriff. Jack buckled over. His already battered ribs were racked with pain as his lungs gulped for air.

Lance said, “Guess I did have a bit of a hard-on for you over this morning. Now we’re square on that!” He released his handshake.

Jack managed to give a thumbs-up sign, and Lance smiled and walked away.

It was 2:10 a.m. when the telephone shattered the silence in Wigmore’s small apartment. It took four rings before his sleepy voice answered hello.

The voice on the other end was that of a man. Feminine, but definitely a man. A man with a slight lisp.

“Hi! I’m the one who’s been admiring you down at the Oceanside Lounge. You know who. I’m the one you winked at the other night, you cheeky devil.”

“I never winked at anyone! Who is this? How did you get my number?”

“You’re a policeman, aren’t you? I’d just love it if you would show me your gun. I’m home now, all alone, or would you like me to come —”

“Listen! Whoever you are, never phone me again!” Wigmore slammed the receiver down.

Seconds later the man called back.

“Hi, big boy! As you can see, I don’t take no for an answer. I live in the pink house across from the Oceanside. I think it would be just divine if —”

Wigmore roared into the phone, “You fucking fag! You don’t know who you’re messin’ with! Now I know where you live! You bother me anymore, and so help me, I’ll take my gun and ram it up your ass and pull the trigger! That’s after I rip your face off and shove it up your ass too!”

Louie Grazia sat at his desk and slurped his morning coffee as he listened to Wizard and Rolly talk on the tape. When it ended he sat with pursed lips, staring across his desk at Jack and Danny.

“What do you think?” asked Danny, feeling uneasy.

Louie stared hard at Jack. “I take it they tried to kill you behind the Black Water when Danny told me you had gone fishing?”

“It wasn’t all that serious. Danny was right there to cover my ass.”

“Yeah, right,” replied Louie sarcastically. “It wasn’t too serious. That’s when you didn’t come to the office for a few days. Which means you got hurt!”

Jack nodded.

“I knew it! Goddamn it, I knew it! You could have told me, instead of keeping me worried about what the hell you were both up to!”

“It was my idea not to tell,” said Jack. “If you know about it and I screw up, then you’re in trouble too.”

“You still should have told me,” he said, harshly. “So tell me,” he continued, his voice softening a little, “how close did they come?”

“It was close,” admitted Jack. “Got my arm drilled and needed a few stitches from a cut on my back, but —”

“Jesus Christ! You were shot?”

“As they say in the movies, it was just a flesh wound. Nothing serious. Finding out who pulled the trigger on Maggie and Ben Junior … it was worth it.” Jack paused and his face became angry and red. “Now we need to find out who ordered them to do it.”

“Have you told your sister and her husband?”

Jack shook his head. “I won’t until it’s over. When I find The Suit. Then it will be over.”

“You’ve done more than enough already. No evidence to arrest, but at least we can point Homicide in the right direction.”

“Homicide? Who’s talking Homicide? It’ll be over when Wizard, Rolly, and The Suit are buried! Not left to some —”

“Damn it, Jack! Cool it! I don’t want to hear that kind of talk. You’re on an Intelligence Unit. Try using some! You’ve gone way beyond what you were allowed. Back off. Give Homicide a chance!”

Jack locked eyes with Louie for a moment, then quietly said, “I apologize. You’re right. I was just letting off steam.”

Jack sounded calm. Too calm, thought Louie. It was the demeanour that a professional would use. A professional killer.

“The problem is,” Jack continued, “we don’t know who the leak is. It could be someone in Homicide. Letting others know means jeopardizing our source, and it could also tip off the leak so that we never find him.”

“Any ideas who that is?” Louie asked.

“I was inclined to think it came from one of the City narcs, but that was just my own bias. I didn’t want to think it was one of ours. The narcs talked to our Homicide Unit about Lenny and me, or Eddy Trimble, each time before things got hot.”

“You think the leak is from Homicide?” asked Louie.

“It’s the secret identity that makes me wonder. City narcs don’t usually wear suits. Homicide do.”

“It could be someone higher up in City. Their bosses wear suits, including Ted Nash.”

“So do our bosses. Finding out may not be easy, but I will,” said Jack with bitter determination.

“What did that kid … Marcie … say The Suit looked like?”

“She didn’t see his face, but described him as slim, with collar-length dark wavy hair.”

“Doesn’t help much. That fits you. What about CC? Do you trust her?”

“As far as I would trust most cops, why?”

“You know she’s not the leak. Tell her that a reliable source said that Wizard and Rolly murdered the kids on instruction from someone who is leaking information. Tell her that they also killed Lenny and tried to kill someone by the name of Eddy Trimble. If that isn’t enough to get a wiretap, mention that they’re also responsible for running a speed connection out of Montreal. Maybe it will lead to The Suit. If she needs a partner, tell her to make sure it’s someone chubby who she trusts completely.”

“These guys would never contact The Suit from their home phones.”

“I agree, but maybe Homicide could get a room bug in or something. Maybe bug their cars. It wouldn’t hurt.”

“These guys don’t talk inside and they change cars like you change shirts.”

“What have you got to lose? Wizard and Rolly already know that you’re on to them.”

“It wouldn’t hurt, except I’m not supposed to be involved in this.” Jack glanced at Danny before continuing. “Wigmore is acting kinky. If I start ducking questions from CC or anyone about who Eddy Trimble is, it won’t be good. Especially if CC does end up bringing the City narcs on board.”

Louie nodded that he understood, then said, “Danny, you pass on the information and take responsibility for any questions or meetings. No need for them to know who Trimble really is. This is only Tuesday. If CC hustles her ass, she could have wire on by early next week.”

Danny squirmed in his chair, then said, “I guess that’s not lying.”

“You’re not lying,” said Louie. “You’re just not disclosing everything.”

“What about Axle and Nails?” asked Danny. “They killed Crystal.”

“That’s a card we could use later. See how this plays out first. We don’t have the manpower to be everywhere at once. Concentrate on Wizard and Rolly. They’re the ones who want to kill Jack. If they make a move we need to know immediately!”

“Understood,” said Danny.

Louie pointed his finger at Jack and said, “You stay in the background! Especially where Wizard and Rolly are concerned! We’re going to have to figure out a way to cover your ass and make sure —”

“I’ve thought of that. I told our friend to tell them that we’ll be out of town for a while. That should give us breathing room enough for us to find out who The Suit is.”

“And how do you expect to do that?” asked Louie.

“You’re right about running wire. When it’s on, we’ll run surveillance on Wizard and Rolly. I’ll get our friend to meet them and say he just heard from me that I found out who The Suit is. With luck, they’ll either panic and say something, or they’ll go warn him and we’ll follow them and find out.”

“And if Wizard and Rolly decide to find you first?”

“We rattled their chains good last night. They’ll be so paranoid that they’ll be looking over their shoulders at everyone. We’ll lie low the rest of this week. Give them a little time to cool off and for CC to get the wire up and running. Then do it. Once we find out who The Suit is, I’ll arrange for Wizard and Rolly to find me. I’ll pick the time and place.”

Louie shook his head. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Don’t worry. When the time comes, I’ll make sure that both you and Danny get an invitation. It will be a formal affair. Dress in black and bring sniper rifles.”

“Damn it, Jack! That’s not —”

“Hey, Louie! Lighten up! I’m just joking.”

Louie looked at Jack’s eyes. Jack stared back and didn’t blink. He was supposed to think Jack was telling the truth. He knew better.

chapter twenty-nine

Later that afternoon, Wigmore was putting his work away when his telephone rang.

“Superintendent Wigmore,” the young woman said, “my name is Linda. Are you Jack Taggart’s boss?”

“Indirectly. What can I do for you?”

“I used to go out with Jack, but he doesn’t think I’m good enough for him now.”

“I’m sorry, miss, but I’m not responsible for personal issues that —”

“I understand that! But he shouldn’t be allowed to break the law, even if he is a cop.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, when we were going together, he once told me about something he did to some big-time bank robber. A Frenchman, I think.”

Wigmore gripped the receiver and reached for a pad of paper. “What did he say?”

The woman paused, then said, “I don’t like discussing this on the phone. Would it be okay if I met you? I could be there in two hours, say 6:15.”

“Please do! Just come to the front counter and ask for me. I’ll wait.”

“But what if Jack comes in? I don’t want him to know. Maybe this isn’t a good idea….”

“Do you want to meet someplace else?”

“I’d still feel safer at your office. Do I have to come to the main entrance?”

Wigmore paused, then said, “No, you don’t. Come to the fire escape door at the rear of the building. I’ll let you in and sneak you up the back stairs. Nobody will see you, I promise.”

“Well … that sounds okay. I’ll be there at 6:15 sharp.”

At six o’clock Wigmore called the Communications Office. He told them to ignore the alarm system at the back door at 6:15 while he let in a “special person.”

At 6:05 the woman called Wigmore again. She would be just a couple of minutes late and would call him from her cellphone when she reached the parking lot.

A young man in Communications watched the security camera as the woman approached the rear of the building. Her wide-brimmed hat hid her face, but her tight suit jacket and skirt revealed a good figure with long legs. Her blouse was pinned at her neck by a broach. He glanced at his watch. It was 6:15. She was right on time. The alarm buzzed briefly indicating that the fire escape door had been opened. He watched the camera as the woman stepped inside, and then he reset the alarm.

Wigmore received another call from the woman at 6:30. She sounded scared. She said that she was about to walk across the parking lot when she saw Jack Taggart drive away. She wanted to wait an hour to make sure that it was safe before coming in. Wigmore glanced at his watch and reluctantly agreed to await her next call.

At 7:25 the security alarm notified the Communications Office of another breach at the back door. The young man watched as the same woman left the building. She carried her suit jacket loosely over her shoulder, and her blouse was unbuttoned enough to show her cleavage. She did a little pirouette in the parking lot, swinging her purse in an arc around herself, then staggered before regaining her footing and walking away. Yes, she looked like a “special person.”

Moments later, Wigmore grabbed his telephone on the first ring. The woman said that she was tired and didn’t want to meet him tonight. Maybe some other time.

The security tape in the Communications Office recorded that Wigmore left through the front door of the building at 7:35 p.m.

Jack put his binoculars on the dashboard and smiled. Tiffany let out a squeal, so Jack picked her up. “It’s okay, sweet pea, Mommy will be here in a minute.”

It was not yet seven o’clock in the morning when Assistant Commissioner Isaac arrived at work. As usual, he was well ahead of the rest of his office staff. He didn’t need to pull back the drapes to know the sanctuary of his office had been violated. The smell of Scotch permeated every corner of the room. A large, wet stain spread out from an empty bottle of Glennfiddich that was lying on the carpet, along with the picture of his wife, his bible, his pen set, and his brass business card holder. His business cards lay scattered across the carpet.

Isaac also didn’t need to look at the brassiere hanging from the horn of the stuffed buffalo head to figure out what had taken place on his desk.

Isaac made two telephone calls. The first was to Internal Affairs. “You find them!” seethed Isaac. “I want to know who’s responsible for this! And I want to know now!”

His second call was to a carpet-cleaning company.

Two hours later, the Identification Section announced that they had found fingerprints on the empty bottle of Scotch.

Late that afternoon, Wigmore fidgeted with his hands as he entered Isaac’s office. He denied being responsible. He denied knowing the woman on the tape of the security camera. Yes, he had received a call from someone, and yes he had called Communications, telling them to ignore the alarm. Yes, he drank Scotch. No, he didn’t have a drinking problem. Yes, he could explain how the bottle with his prints got there. He was framed by Jack Taggart!

Isaac listened to Wigmore’s raspy voice plead his innocence and wondered if it was a set-up. After all, a commissioned officer … it just didn’t seem possible. And the brassiere hanging from the buffalo’s horn … it did seem like overkill. He told Wigmore, who was begging for a chance to take the polygraph, that he would accommodate his request before the week was over.

It was 10:30 p.m. when Danny called Wigmore at home. Wigmore was furious but listened to Danny’s plea that he didn’t know anything about Jack framing him. Wigmore said that he was looking forward to seeing Danny in person. The Oceanside, in one hour!

It was 11:45 when Jack and Danny parked with Susan and Tiffany at a payphone near the office, about a forty-minute drive from the Oceanside Lounge. Susan used the payphone to place her call.

“Oceanside Lounge,” said the bartender.

“Yes,” purred Susan. “Is Marvin Wigmore in there? Big guy, brush-cut, drinks Scotch.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Tell him I left my bra in his office and I want it back.”

The bartended suppressed a snicker and said, “I think you better tell him that yourself. Hang on.” Susan heard the bartender shout, “Mr. Wigmore! Telephone!”

Susan passed the receiver to Danny.

“Yeah, this is Wigmore. Is that you, O’Reilly?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Where are you? Why aren’t you here? I’ve been waiting!”

“You’re nothing but a jealous, pompous, vindictive little man with the brain a size of a rat’s and probably the balls to match!”

“What?” screamed Wigmore. “You think you can talk that way with me? You’re finished! Do you understand? Finished! When I see you I’ll rip your face off and —”

“Sir, sir, sir!” interjected Danny. “It’s not me that said that!”

“What? What are you talking about? You said I had the balls of —”

“Sir, no, you misunderstood. I was reading from my notes. That’s what Jack said about you tonight. I was just telling you.”

“Taggart? He said that?”

“Yes, sir. I made notes of it. Sorry, I should have explained that first.”

“Where are you? You could have told me that when you got here.”

“That’s why I’m calling. It’s Jack. He’s really freaked out tonight about you. I don’t know why. He’s been drinking and calling you all sorts of names. I think I should stick with him. He’s talking like he wants to shoot you.”

“Shoot me? That son of a bitch! Okay, listen O’Reilly! You stay close to him. Tomorrow morning we’ll meet at the office. I want you to tell Assistant Commissioner Isaac every detail.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll be there. Good night, sir.”

At 11:58 Wigmore walked out of the lounge and went home. One minute later, the bartender looked up at a new customer.

“Do you have a phone I can borrow for a local call?”

“At the end of the bar. Help yourself.”

It was exactly midnight when Assistant Commissioner Isaac mumbled an apology to his wife while leaning across to answer the telephone on the bedside table. He recognized Wigmore’s raspy, angry voice immediately.

“It’s Superintendent Wigmore! W-I-G-M-O-R-E! Listen, you fuckin’ faggot! You don’t know who you’re messin’ with! You bother me anymore and so help me, I’ll take my gun and ram it up your ass and pull the trigger! That’s after I rip your face off and shove it up your ass too!”

The line went dead. Isaac was shocked, but he still thought like a policeman. He checked his call display and then called the Communications Office. He demanded to know where Jack Taggart was at this exact moment.

One hour later, a policeman interviewed the bartender. Yes, Mr. Wigmore had been in. He was certain. Left around midnight, right after he used the phone. Some woman called him. Said she left her bra in his office. It’s not the sort of thing you would forget. Wigmore might have made another call after. He was really angry. Yelling at someone on the phone.

Wigmore left for work earlier than usual and cautiously looked around as he walked down his apartment hallway and pushed the elevator button. He was wearing a bulletproof vest under his shirt and carried a pistol — something he hadn’t done since being commissioned.

The elevator door opened and Wigmore did an imitation of a freshly caught bass, blinking his eyes while opening and closing his mouth. Three members of the Tactical Team leapt from the elevator and ordered him to the floor. Four more officers appeared on each side of him in the hall, also dressed in black and also carrying automatic weapons. They too screamed for him to hit the floor.

“Go on in.”

Louie Grazia nodded to the secretary, then walked across the fresh-smelling carpet and sat down in front of Isaac’s desk.

“Good work on Project 13 so far, Louie,” said Isaac. “This new informant your section has cultivated is proving very valuable. I gather there is still no indication who is supplying the bikers with information?”

“No, sir, not at this time. We’re working on it.”

“Well, if you hear anything, let me know immediately!”

“Yes, sir.”

Isaac glanced at the picture of his wife and looked back at Grazia.

“You heard about Wigmore this morning?”

Grazia nodded.

“It’s a shame. I just heard from the hospital. Preliminary examination indicates he may be suffering from paranoid schizophrenia. The doctor thinks he truly doesn’t know reality from fiction. He was wearing a bulletproof vest and carrying his sidearm when they took him down. He’s afraid that policemen are trying to kill him. Also said that Taggart and O’Reilly framed him and that O’Reilly called him last night at some lounge and set him up.”

“Oh?”

“It was actually a woman friend of his who called him there. She spoke to the bartender first. Somehow it triggered Wigmore. He went berserk and called and threatened me right after. I haven’t told you this, but Wigmore made accusations yesterday saying that Taggart framed him for the … indiscretion in my office. After Wigmore threatened me at home, I immediately called Communications.”

“Do you think Taggart was involved?”

“Taggart was with O’Reilly. Communications proved that the both of them entered our building only minutes before Wigmore called to threaten me.”

“I’m glad my men weren’t involved, sir.”

“I know. I think Wigmore snapped under the pressure of being commissioned. He’s looking to point his finger at anyone rather than take a good look at himself. The sad thing is, he really believes it.”

“It sounds pretty serious.”

“It’s serious, but they don’t think he’s actually dangerous. They expect to release him shortly and treat him as an outpatient.”

“Will he be coming back to the job?”

“No. I’ll see to it that he goes to pension as soon as he’s released.” Isaac leaned back in his chair and said, “Well, enough about that. Let the men know I’m pleased with how Project 13 is progressing and keep me abreast of any new developments.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Grazia.

It was eleven o’clock on Friday night when Jack and Danny stepped up on the darkened porch and Jack rapped on the door. A few minutes later, the porch light went on and the door opened a crack.

Jack stuck his foot in the doorway and said, “Police! We’ve got an arrest warrant for Jose Cuervo! Open up! We got a tip that he’s hiding in your kitchen!”

“Come on in,” said Louie. “I’ll lead you to him.”

Louie led Jack and Danny into the kitchen. Louie took his pistol from his housecoat pocket and placed it on the kitchen table, and then retrieved the bottle of tequila and three glasses.

The three men gave a silent toast and drank. When they were finished, Louie pointed a finger at Jack and said, “Pour another. I’ll be right back.”

Jack did as he was told, and Louie returned a moment later with a tape recorder. He spoke with a lisp and said, “Lithen to thith, big boys!”

Jack, Danny, and Louie howled with laughter when the tape of Wigmore’s voice was played. When it was finished, Louie became sombre and looked at Jack and said, “He might be vengeful. Keep your eyes open for a while.”

“We’ve talked about this before. As I said, the man’s a bully, which makes him a coward in my eyes. He wouldn’t have the guts to try anything.”

“I agree, but just be careful all the same. Now, time to burn this,” added Louie, reaching for the tape.

Danny pleaded with Louie to play it one more time while he refilled the glasses.

By 2:00 a.m., the tape had been played several times before being destroyed.

chapter thirty

CC sat in the passenger seat flipping through her wiretap application while her partner, Charlie Wells, drove the car. She looked up and said, “Take the next left.”

They parked in front of Bishop’s estate and had barely gotten out of the car when the sound of three rapid gunshots came from behind the home. CC and Charlie both reached for their pistols and ran to the back of the home.

A long pier led into the ocean. A large cabin cruiser was parked at the end of the dock, opposite a small boathouse. Sid Bishop stood near the boathouse and watched a clay pigeon fly into the air. Three more blasts followed, but he missed again and silently cursed the bottle.

A few minutes later, Bishop invited the police officers into his home. He poured them each a cup of tea while he sat and browsed through the wiretap application.

“This information came through a Daniel O’Reilly,” mused Bishop as he read the pages.

CC reached for a scone and said, “His informant.”

“I may need to talk to him later.”

“No problem, I’ll give you his cell number. O’Reilly works with Jack Taggart on the Intelligence Unit. They probably both run the informant. Taggart’s pretty experienced; I’m sure the informant is reliable.”

They were interrupted by the sound of the door chimes. Sid left momentarily, and CC saw that it was a catering company making a delivery.

Sid returned and said, “Sorry about that. Having a bit of a social here tonight. Now, back to this, why isn’t Taggart’s name on this application?”

“The two kids that were killed were his niece and nephew,” CC replied.

“His niece and nephew?”

“Yes.”

“It would be prudent for him to remain in the background. Less chance of defence claiming that the information is biased.”

“You’re right, but there’s more to it than that.”

“Oh?”

“The superintendent who was recently in charge of the Intelligence units told me that he considers Taggart dangerous — a loose cannon. He ordered him to stay clear of this investigation. I have the feeling that Taggart is really involved, maybe holding something back.”

“Holding something back? This application alludes to the fact that someone is divulging classified information. How classified? Would this person know where I live, for example? What about Taggart? Does he know who it is? Damn it! This shouldn’t be taken lightly!”

“There is no indication of anything to be concerned about in regard to anyone’s safety. As far as Taggart goes, I’m certain he doesn’t know anything in that regard.”

“What makes you certain of that?”

“Two things. One is they provided me with the grounds for this application.” CC paused, trying to formulate her words.

“And the second reason?” Bishop asked impatiently.

“From what I heard about Taggart, Wizard and Rolly wouldn’t still be alive.”

It was almost midnight when Nails spoke with Axle.

“Just heard from Wizard. We got a job to do tomorrow morning. Need to vaporize a couple of pigs.”

“Pigs!”

“You got it. I expect you’re about to earn your patch.”

It was Saturday evening, and Jack was helping Marcie clear the dishes from the table when Danny called. Elizabeth answered and passed the telephone to Jack.

“Just got a call from a prosecutor,” said Danny. “Some guy by the name of Sid Bishop. Must be dedicated. Wants to meet me at Willy’s Restaurant tomorrow morning at ten for coffee and go over Homicide’s wiretap application. Also wants you there.”

“CC must have put two and two together. Like I need that!” said Jack, sarcastically.

“I can try it alone. It’s at a mall, and Susan wanted to pick up some things. I don’t mind.”

“I’ll bring my own car and wait nearby. If you don’t think the prosecutor will push the application through without talking to me, then call and I’ll join you.”

“Will do.”

“Depending upon what happens, we should meet our friend right after and prepare him to do his bit.”

“No problem. We could meet him in your car and Susan can drive ours back home.”

chapter thirty-one

Rolly parked near the restaurant parking lot. He watched as Danny arrived. His wife was with him, pushing a baby stroller. She entered the mall while Danny headed for a restaurant.

He pulled up alongside Axle and Nails, who were parked in a van, and gave them a detailed description of O’Reilly’s car before calling Wizard on his cell.

Wizard waited impatiently at the airport. Damien’s flight was to arrive in ten minutes. It would be some time after that before customs was cleared.

Wizard answered Rolly’s call.

“Bad news,” said Rolly. “Just one pig. Not the main one.”

“One is better than none.”

“I guess. The pig also brought along a sow and a piglet. Your call. Now? Or some other time?”

“Do it now! It’s our asses on the line!”

“Understood.”

“Cover the delivery, then get the hell away from there.”

Rolly watched Nails carry his package in a paper shopping bag across the parking lot. He disappeared for a few seconds behind the pig’s car. Rolly felt a few tense seconds as a woman parked nearby. Nails stood up quickly and walked back toward the van. He was still carrying the shopping bag, but it was swinging freely and Rolly knew it was empty. He then drove and parked a block away.

Minutes later, Axle and Nails drove out the restaurant exit to park far enough away that they couldn’t be identified but would still be able to see when O’Reilly’s car approached the exit. Then they could easily detonate the bomb and leave unnoticed while everyone else was distracted by the explosion.

Neither Axle nor Nails knew what Taggart looked like, but their faces were ingrained into his memory. He arrived in the lot as they passed him in the opposite direction.

Danny knew by Sid Bishop’s abrupt tone that he was less than impressed that Jack wasn’t with him. He fired several questions about the reliability of the informant, but Danny was able to answer them all. Their informant was a member of Satans Wrath and had been proven reliable. There was no reason to call Jack. Sid spent more time discussing personal safety than he did the actual investigation. Danny also noted that Sid loved his coffee. Lots of it, black.

When the meeting was over, Danny shook hands with Sid and went into the mall to look for Susan and to call Jack. He didn’t need to call. Jack was inside the mall entrance.

“It went well,” said Danny. “All he had were the basic questions. I could handle it myself. He said we should have the authorization signed by tomorrow or Tuesday.”

“We need to talk,” said Jack.

“Are we meeting our friend?”

“Yes, in about an hour, but…”

Jack’s attention was diverted by a gentle poke in his ribs. “Hi, Jack!”

He smiled politely and then said, “Hi, Susan. Done your shopping already?”

“Afraid so. This cheapskate keeps us on a tight budget.”

Jack looked at Danny and said, “With all the overtime you make?”

“Yeah, right! And when do I get time to spend it? I’m always working!”

“A cheapskate and a complainer. I don’t know, Susan. It must be rough.”

“It is. I just live in quiet desperation and bear the pain.” She grinned and said, “He is pretty good in the sack, though.”

“Only pretty good?” said Danny, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close.

“Okay. You’re great!”

“That’s better!” He kissed her and Tiffany each on the cheek. “See ya, hon,” he said, passing her his car keys. “I should be home around twelve-thirty.”

Damien and his family cleared customs faster than Wizard had hoped. Buck entered the public part of the terminal first, followed by his two sisters. Wizard was just hanging up his cell as Vicki and Damien appeared.

“What’s going on?” asked Damien.

Wizard tried not to smile as he stuffed his cell back in his pocket. “Had some business to take care of. Tried to reach you but couldn’t.”

Damien checked his cell. “It’s been on.”

“Must not work down south or on the plane.”

Damien partially covered his mouth with his hand. He was always conscious of the possibility of someone pointing a directional microphone at him. His voice was quiet, but the tone was angry. “What is it? What have you done?”

Wizard partially covered his own mouth and gave Damien an update on what happened during the last week. He saved telling him about killing O’Reilly and his family until last. When he was finished, he added, “Just one pig to go. Jack Taggart. We’ll have his address today or tomorrow.”

Wizard expected Damien would be furious, but it wasn’t his ass on the line. Besides, the election for national president was only eight days away. Showing enough class to off a pig, or two pigs by then, would prove that he had the balls to do the job. He looked at Damien. You’ve only got a few days left. You know it and I know it! By the look on Damien’s face, he knew that Damien was thinking the same thing.

“This is my fault,” Damien said. He didn’t sound angry, but calculating and matter of fact.

“What? What do ya mean?”

“I should never have left you in charge. You don’t have the … capacity to handle the position. I see that now.”

“Bullshit! I did right! It’s easy for you to talk! The cops aren’t about to bust you for —”

Damien stabbed a finger into Wizard’s chest and said, “You have no idea what you’ve done! Do you really think there won’t be retribution over this?”

“They’ll never pin it on us!”

“You dumb fuck! I didn’t say that they’d be looking for evidence! I’m talking retribution!” He then turned and walked back to his family.

Wizard watched as Damien herded his family to an airline counter and bought them all tickets to Mexico. Yeah, well, if you’re worried about your family, you shouldn’t have one.

Danny rushed out of the mall as Susan was putting the stroller in the car. “There’s been a change of plans,” he said, glancing around the parking lot.

“Aren’t you going with Jack?”

“No, we’re going for a drive right now. Jack is going to follow us. Hurry up and get in.”

Susan could tell by the look on Danny’s face that he was either angry or scared. Or perhaps both. “Danny, what is it? What’s going on?”

Danny waited until he had backed out of the parking stall before saying, “Jack saw two bikers arrive shortly after we did. He’s been watching them. They’re parked in a van watching this parking lot.”

“You think they’re here because of you? That they followed you?”

“Looks like it.”

“Where are they? I don’t see anyone!”

The words were barely out of her mouth when there was a horrendous explosion in an adjacent parking lot. Susan saw the back of a van lift off the ground before bouncing back down. An orange fireball of flame filled the inside and she could see the silhouettes of two people in the front.

The passenger instinctively grabbed at his blown eardrums before slumping over. The driver clawed at his door, but the van had buckled from the explosion and the door wouldn’t open. His body writhed inside the van and then fell from sight.

“My God!” Susan screamed. “Danny!” she said, pointing to the van.

“That’s them!” he replied. “They blew themselves up!” He gazed at the van momentarily and then sped out of the mall lot. “They were planning on killing us! You, Tiffany, and me!”

“What are you saying? I don’t understand! What’s going on?”

“They’re the same two guys who murdered Crystal. One guy is a bomb expert.”

“A bomb expert? But why?”

Danny glanced in the rear-view mirror and said, “Guess he wasn’t an expert, but you can bet it was intended for us.”

“Why aren’t you waiting for the police? Why —”

“I’m getting you and Tiffany the hell away from here! There could be others! You’re going to pack, and I’m putting you on a plane. Call your brother in Calgary and stay with him.”

“But why? What are you going to do?”

“They probably know where we live! Jack told me to move in with him while we sort things out. He’s going to make a few calls.”

“To who? What for?” said Susan, starting to cry.

“This is against the rules. The bastards have just declared war and they’re going to get it.”

Wizard answered his cellphone.

“We’ve got a problem!” Rolly’s voice was high-pitched.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Find a television! It’s on right now!”

Wizard and Damien went into one of the airport’s lounges and saw live coverage of a breaking story on television. An explosion had ripped a van apart. Two bodies were recovered, but the broadcast said they were burned beyond recognition.

“I don’t get it,” said Wizard. “Rolly saw them put the package on the pig’s car!”

Damien looked at Wizard for a moment, then said, “This being the same Rolly who the cops know killed the little boy and later the Indo? Who else knew he whacked them two?”

“He said he hasn’t told anyone.”

“So only you know … and the police.”

Wizard didn’t respond.

The two men walked back to where Vicki and the children were waiting.

“You gonna cancel their flight now?” asked Wizard

Damien shook his head. “There could still be retribution. The fact that you failed won’t make a difference.”

“But…”

“Shut the fuck up and listen! We’ve got a rat in-house! It could be Rolly or someone else in your chapter.”

Wizard was about to defend Rolly, but Damien gave him a long, hard look, and he decided it was in his best interest to stay quiet on that subject. “What about the two pigs?” he asked.

“Unfortunately, because of your stupidity, now I have to deal with them immediately before any more shit hits the fan. Then we’ll find out who the rat is. In the meantime, nobody in your chapter is to go anywhere near them. It’ll strictly be the east-side boys. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“And that means you, too!”

chapter thirty-two

Jack and Danny made sure they were not being followed, then checked the area around Danny’s home. Nothing aroused their suspicions. Six hours later, Danny kissed Susan and Tiffany goodbye and watched them go through security at the airport to board their flight. Jack had taken another car and followed them to the airport.

Jack and Danny were walking back to their cars when Danny’s cellphone rang.

“Danny! It’s Sid Bishop. I just saw the news! Did you hear what happened?”

“About what?”

“Two bikers were blown up in a van this morning near Willy’s Restaurant! It had to have happened right after we left. That’s no coincidence!”

“Oh, that. Yes, I heard.” Danny covered the mouthpiece on the phone and whispered to Jack, “It’s Sid Bishop!” He then held the phone so they could both hear.

“What do you mean, oh, that? How did they know we were there? They tried to kill us! Christ, I don’t want to go home!”

“Sid, relax. If they wanted to kill you, they could have shot the both of us when we were leaving.”

“That’s not very comforting! I called Marvin at home and —”

“Marvin?” asked Danny.

“Sorry, Superintendent Wigmore. He gave me the home number for Assistant Commissioner Isaac. He’s not home yet; I keep calling. I want to hear what he says about this!”

Jack rolled his eyes, then took the phone from Danny and said, “Sid. This is Jack Taggart, Danny’s partner. I’m positive that your life is not in danger. If you think about it, the bikers would have nothing to gain by killing you. In fact, they would have a lot to lose. We don’t think this is connected to us. We have intelligence that a drug war is starting. Getting the wire hooked up is the best thing we can do right now.”

Sid sounded surprised. “You think it’s a drug war? That it was a coincidence?”

“I’m certain of it. We heard that Satans Wrath killed a speed dealer by the name of Bobby Singh. This is probably retaliation for that.”

Sid paused, then calmed down. “So you don’t think I’m in danger?”

“No.”

Jack heard Sid turn away from the phone and say, “Oh, God, thank heavens.” He then spoke to Jack: “I must admit, this incident has shaken my composure. I’m glad to hear you say that. It took me a long time to get through on Danny’s cell. He should get a new phone!”

“There’s no need to panic.”

“I don’t panic! I was just concerned.”

“I’ll give you my home and cell numbers. Danny will be staying with me for a couple of days, so if you need to, you can reach either of us there.”

“Why is he staying with you if there’s no need to panic?” said Sid, his voice rising.

“Just coincidence. His wife is out of town and we decided to bach together. By the way, how well do you know Superintendent Wigmore?”

“Not well. Just socially on occasion. He didn’t speak very highly of you.”

“Oh?” said Jack, feigning surprise. “He’s had some emotional problems lately. I won’t hold that against him. I’ll call you as soon as we know something further.”

“Now what?” asked Danny, after Jack hung up.

“If Isaac thinks our lives are in danger, he’ll transfer the both of us so far north we’ll need a dogsled team. If that happens, I’ll quit and stay here to finish this on my own.”

“After what happened, how can you convince him otherwise?”

“Play up that it’s a drug war. I’ll have a report on his desk first thing tomorrow morning saying our informant told us a drug war is starting. Convince him that today was a coincidence.”

“Isaac will want to know who is dumb enough to take on Satans Wrath.”

“I’ll say it’s conflict within Satans Wrath. That way when more of them start dying, it’ll make sense.”

“You think he’ll swallow that?”

“I hope so. Otherwise you and Susan better develop a taste for whale blubber.”

“Speaking of our friend?”

Jack glanced at his watch. “This should be interesting. When I cancelled the meet with him at noon, he sounded like he didn’t know anything yet. Since then he’s left half a dozen urgent messages for me to call him.”

“Why not call him?”

“I will, but I want to see his face when we talk.” Jack called Lance’s number. His message was brief. “Cemetery! Two hours!”

Jack then said to Danny, “Tell me you’ve got your vest on?”

“It’s on.”

Two hours later, Lance made sure that his jacket covered the handle of the 9 mm tucked in the front of his jeans before quietly making his way into the cemetery. He didn’t approach from the normal direction, but circled around and came in from behind instead.

Minutes later, he heard whispering and saw Jack and Danny standing near a grave marker. Their backs were toward him and they continued to whisper as he approached. Lance stopped behind them and said, “Glad to see you guys didn’t bring a shovel with ya!”

Jack and Danny turned to face him. “It’s not that far away,” said Jack.

“How come ya didn’t get back to me? I’ve been phonin’ and leavin’ messages all day!”

“Why didn’t you call before it happened?”

“I swear to fuckin’ God I didn’t know about it! The first I heard was when Wiz called a meetin’ around noon. That’s when he let everyone in the chapter know that Nails an’ Axle got blown up. He said that they were takin’ care of business when somethin’ happened. It was after the meetin’ that Wiz and Rolly let me know that it was supposed to be for you guys.”

“What did they say?”

“Wiz apologized for not lettin’ me in on it but said that there wasn’t time. I asked him what happened.” Lance looked at Danny and said, “Rolly was there. He thought he saw Nails put the bomb on your car and then drove about a block away and waited. He mentioned that some broad had driven in when Nails was doin’ it. At the time, he thought it had been planted but realizes now that it wasn’t.”

“Who else was there besides Rolly? Wasn’t Wizard around?” asked Jack.

“It was just the three of them. Wiz was at the airport meeting Damien. He was just getting’ back from the Grand Caymans.”

“Did Damien sanction this?”

“Don’t know. But they do know that someone in the club is rattin’. The heat is really on.”

“They had to figure that out once you let them know that we knew who Rolly and Wizard murdered. This doesn’t really change anything as far as you go.”

“Yeah, I guess not, but it’s getting’ pretty damn uncomfortable.”

“We’ll look after you.”

“So now what?” asked Danny. “What are they going to do next?”

“I asked. Wizard said we’re not to do anything right now. He promised to let me know if that was going to change.”

“You’re sure about that?” asked Jack.

“That’s what he said. We got orders to sit tight. Wiz did say that things will change after the election. He’s confident that he’ll beat out Damien.” Lance looked at Jack and asked, “There was somethin’ you were going to get me to do?”

“I was going to get you to put more pressure on Wizard and Rolly this week, but things are too hot right now. We better wait a week or so and see what happens.”

“You’re fuckin’ right things are hot! Waitin’ is fine by me.”

Lance agreed to stay in touch and was walking away when Jack said, “One more thing!”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Just out of curiosity, are you packin’?”

Lance lifted his jacket slightly to expose the handle of the 9 mm. “You’re fuckin’ right I’m packin’! If I’d seen another shovel I would’ve used it to bury you both!”

Jack smiled, then said, “Take care of yourself, Lance.”

Jack and Danny stood in the cemetery and watched Lance drive away. Moments later they heard the metallic sound of a bolt sliding in a rifle.

Jack turned and said, “Louie, you look like a bloody ninja. Except for the white socks!”

Louie looked quickly at his feet. “You asshole! They’re black!”

“You weren’t sure, though, were you? I don’t know, Louie. I think you’re getting old.”

“Not so old that I couldn’t kick your ass!”

Danny interjected. “Listen guys, if it’s okay with you, I want to get going. I told Susan I’d call her and Calgary’s an hour ahead of us.”

Jack gave Danny an extra key to his apartment and told him to go ahead. He said he wanted to make sure that Louie didn’t get lost in the graveyard and then stop at the office to put in a quick report for Isaac to read in the morning.

Danny let himself in through the main entrance of the apartment building and walked across the lighted lobby to the elevators.

From across the street, Damien and The Suit sat in a car looking out through the tinted windows. The Suit lowered his binoculars and said, “That’s O’Reilly!” Damien took a quick glimpse through the binoculars, then picked up a portable radio.

“Pork chop number two just entered through the main entrance.”

Whiskey Jake, who was the president of the east-side chapter, sat in a van parked in the underground parking lot of the building. With him were Sparks, Thumper, and Two-Forty Gordy.

Whiskey Jake thumbed the radio and said, “Copy that.”

A couple of minutes later, Damien gave another message: “Lights just went on. He’s in the apartment. It’s up to you guys now.”

“No problem,” replied Whiskey Jake.

Damien glanced at Bishop and said, “I’m taking you to your car.”

“No, I want to see it,” said The Suit. “I want to see them beg for their lives!”

Damien grabbed The Suit by the front of his jacket, jerking him halfway across the seat. “You put my family and everyone in the club at risk today! I’m not selling ringside seats here! This isn’t a fucking game you’re watching!”

Twenty minutes later, Damien stopped a block from where The Suit’s car was parked. Neither man had spoken a word. The Suit got out and slammed the door as he left.

Two hours later, Jack drove into the underground parking lot and parked in his stall. A minute later, he opened the metal door leading to the alcove where the elevators were. He stepped inside and saw that he wasn’t alone. The man facing him was wearing a ski mask.

Jack’s adrenal glands instantly electrified his body, but it was too late to prevent the solid kick he received to his groin. His knees wobbled as two more men grabbed each of his arms from behind. The pain made him want to vomit.

He was slammed face down on the concrete floor. He could see the square-toed boots of the man who had kicked him. A small piece of leather was curled back off the end of one of the boots. He wondered, briefly, if it was the result of someone being kicked in the teeth, then thought it ironic that he would think of that when he was about to die. A hand jerked his pistol out of his holster, and he braced himself for the shot.

Seconds later, his eyes and mouth were plastered with duct tape. He hands were bound behind his back and his ankles were also wrapped. They found the knife he carried for undercover duties and slid it out of its scabbard. He was then lifted off the ground by his arms and dragged out the door. He heard the sound of a sliding door and was tossed inside a van. Perhaps he had been optimistic, thinking that his life would end so quickly. They want to know who the informant is first, he realized.

He felt someone remove his keys from his pocket. Nobody had spoken a word. He heard the sliding door again as some of the men left the van. He had a sickening feeling that he knew why they had taken his keys.

His body rolled against a metal bar under a seat as the van sped away.

Danny was sitting on the sofa watching television when he heard the sound of the key in the apartment door. “Good, you’re back!” he hollered. “I feel like a drink.” He heard the footsteps behind him and said, “I talked with Susan. She’s scared but she’s okay.”

Danny felt the cold barrel of a pistol in his ear. He snapped his head around, and the barrel of the pistol obscured the vision of one eye. The man holding the pistol was wearing a ski mask. He looked past him and saw two other men. They were also wearing ski masks — and they were also pointing pistols at him.

chapter thirty-three

Jack estimated an hour had passed before the van came to a stop. During the trip, he vowed that he would never release Lance’s name. He would quickly give them a few names, then hold out for as long as possible — and finally give them Rolly.

He thought of other things. He wished that he had a chance to tell Natasha that he loved her one more time. He wished that he could apologize to Susan for failing to protect her husband, and somehow to Tiffany, for giving her a life without a father.

The sliding door of the van opened and he was hauled out by the arms and dragged across rough ground before being placed in a kneeling position.

The minutes ticked by and all he heard was the engine noise from a couple of vehicles. He started to lose his balance and felt himself falling forward, but a hand grabbed him by the hair and jerked him back into position. The duct tape was unwrapped from around his eyes.

Jack blinked and strained his eyes to see. Headlights behind him cast light and shadows across a construction site. He stared down at a hollow wall of rough planks interwoven with metal bars. He was kneeling in front of a large pit that had been dug out of the ground to build a basement. The construction was at the stage where the forms had been prepared for the pouring of the cement floor.

Jack looked behind him but was blinded by the high-beam headlights of a van and a car. He glanced down at the feet of a man standing beside him. He could make out the same square-toed boots and realized that his groin still ached. The man was no longer wearing a ski mask and sneered down at him. He recognized him from photographs of the east-side chapter as someone who went by the nickname of Thumper. Two more men approached from out of the headlights, and one of them used Jack’s knife to cut the tape wrapped around the back of his neck before peeling it off his mouth. Jack recognized him as a striker from the same chapter. The striker handed the knife to the third man, who commanded, “Leave us!”

Thumper and the striker walked back and disappeared behind the headlights. Jack recognized Damien’s face as he stepped closer.

“Do you know who I am, Officer Taggart?”

Jack looked up at his face. “Sure I do, Damien. Please, call me Jack. I hate formalities. Excuse me for not shaking hands.”

Damien did not appear to be amused. “Let’s get to the point. What do you think the point is, Jack?”

“The point is, you fucked up this morning by trying to kill my partner and his wife and baby. Now you’re fucking up again!”

“I can understand why you would think that. Tell me, why do you think you ended up out here?”

“You want me to give you the name of someone. Good luck. Let the games begin! What will you start with? Water and a cattle prod?”

“Interesting tip. Tell me, Jack, just out of curiosity, what name would you yell out first?”

“Yours!”

A wry smile flashed across Damien’s face, and then he said, “That’s what I thought. I know we’ve got a rat in our club. I accept that. It happens, and it is something that will be dealt with. Unfortunately for you, others don’t accept it quite as easily as I do, which brings us to the point of our meeting here.”

“The point being?”

“The point being that sometimes large organizations have internal problems that need to be dealt with. You referred to an incident this morning. I had no knowledge about that incident until after it happened. I admit that someone in my organization may have been impetuous. I have since rectified the situation.”

“Impetuous! Is that what you call committing murder? I don’t care if you sanctioned it or not. You’re in charge, and that makes you responsible!”

“I agree. I must, and do, accept responsibility for what happened. However, it would hardly be fair for other … innocent people to get hurt simply because someone acted foolishly.”

“What are you implying?”

“You’re hardly the person to ask what I’m implying! You know full well what I’m saying! You and I are in different clubs, but we’re very much alike.”

“Alike? That’s bullshit! I don’t kidnap and murder people!”

“Kidnap? Murder? I brought you here to save lives! That’s the whole point! You need to know that if I wanted you dead, you would be.”

Damien then took the knife and slashed the tape from Jack’s ankles and wrists.

Jack got to his feet and asked, “What about my partner?”

“He’s okay. Probably relaxing in a tub right now.”

“So you don’t plan on committing any murders today?”

Damien leaned close and hissed, “Don’t you, of all people, stand there and accuse me of murder! You’re only alive because the others didn’t figure it out!”

“Figure what out?”

“The switch! When you get home, wash your jacket. You’ve got an oil stain on the back from crawling under vehicles!”

Jack found himself at a loss for words.

Damien scowled and said, “I bet you and your partner had a good laugh over that one.”

“He doesn’t know. He thinks it was an accident.”

“Loose lips?”

“I prefer to call it a need-to-know basis. He didn’t need to know.”

“Just as well. Do you give me your word that we’re even for what happened this morning?”

Jack thought for a moment, then quietly said, “Yes.”

Damien handed him his knife and pistol. Jack checked the pistol and saw that it was fully loaded.

Damien then yelled, “Thumper! Take him home!”

Jack glanced down at Thumper’s square-toed boots as he approached. The man was slightly shorter than Jack and sneered up at him as he got close. Without warning, Jack kicked him hard in the groin and watched as he buckled over and staggered back.

Jack then turned to face Damien and said, “Now we’re even for tonight, too.”

Jack felt a tap on his shoulder and was surprised to see that it was Thumper.

“Ya want a piece of me, pork chop?” Thumper asked.

Jack had two months of rage burning inside him. He was eager to release some of it. He handed his gun and knife back to Damien and said, “You’re damn right I do!”

Damien and the third man both laughed. Damien whispered something to Thumper, who nodded, then looked at Jack and said, “Okay, pig, let’s see how tough ya are!”

Thumper opened with a side kick to Jack’s ribs. Jack blocked the kick with his forearm and landed a fist on the end of Thumper’s nose. Thumper stepped back, his eyes watering and blood gushing down across his lips. Jack stepped in close to deliver a karate punch to the solar plexus, followed by another punch to the throat. He didn’t connect with either. He found himself sailing though the air, and then he landed in the pit dug for the basement.

He scrambled to his feet as Thumper jumped in beside him and planted a boot squarely across his chest. He staggered back, then lunged forward with another punch. Thumper grabbed his wrist and spun him sideways while delivering another kick to Jack’s armpit.

Jack felt his arm go numb, and for a moment, so many fists and feet were slamming his body that he believed he was fighting all three men. He realized he wasn’t when he was lying barely conscious, face down in the dirt, and heard Damien from above ordering the striker to go down in the hole and help Thumper carry him back to the van.

Jack was still winded and dazed as he was tossed onto the floor of the van.

Damien dropped Jack’s gun and knife on the floor beside him and said, “I think I figured out who the rat is, so we really don’t have a problem.”

Jack didn’t respond.

Damien then said, “Also, for your information, Thumper teaches kick-boxing, karate, and tae kwon do. You should sign up for lessons.”

“Too late. My body just declared bankruptcy.”

Damien chuckled, then softly closed the sliding door and walked away.

The striker hopped in the van and drove, while Thumper sat in the passenger seat. During the trip, Jack heard the striker say, “This has got to be a first, Thumper. Never seen anyone smack ya in the face before, let alone a pig.”

Thumper replied, “Damien said he didn’t want any other pigs getting excited. Told me I couldn’t hit him in the face and to try not to break any bones. It’s hard to fight when you’re only playin’ with someone like that.”

Jack groaned.

When they pulled up to his apartment, Two-Forty Gordy came to the van with Jack’s apartment keys and Thumper tossed them back to Jack. A few minutes later, Jack entered his apartment.

He found Danny wrapped in duct tape and lying face down in the bathtub. It took him a few minutes to take the tape off.

“Christ! Am I glad to see you,” said Danny, blinking and wiping his eyes as he stepped out of the bathtub.

“Likewise,” said Jack.

“What took you so long? I’ve been lying in this tub for hours!”

“I was detained.”

“Detained? You’re filthy! You look like you crawled out of a grave!”

“Close guess. I had the crap beat out of me by a guy who could have won with both hands tied behind his back.”

“What happened? How come we’re alive?”

“Grab the medicine. I’m too sore to reach the cupboard. I’ll have mine on ice. We’ll talk in the living room.”

Danny poured drinks while telling Jack how he was grabbed and tied up like a Christmas turkey.

“Why did they dump you in the tub? Why not leave you on the rug?”

“Maybe they wanted me to think that they were going to drown me. When they dumped me in the tub, that’s what I was afraid was going to happen.”

“Did they run any water, just to scare you?”

“They didn’t need to. I was already scared shitless. How did they grab you?”

Jack explained how he was kidnapped and brought to see Damien. He explained that Damien was making the point that he wasn’t involved in the bomb incident and that he could have killed them tonight had he wished.

Then he said, “After I had the crap beat out of me, Damien told me that he thinks he knows who the rat is in their club.”

Whiskey Jake and Sparks sat in the back of a van parked a block from Jack’s apartment. Sparks turned the volume up on the speaker and said, “Here it is!”

They listened as Danny’s voice came over the speaker.

“Damien knows who our friend is?” he said.

“I’m not so sure,” said Jack. “If he really knew who it was, why let me know?”

“I don’t know, but maybe we should warn him.”

Sparks swore and said, “Come on, pigs! Give us a name!”

Whiskey Jake put his finger to his lips and Sparks became silent.

“He doesn’t need warning,” said Jack. “He knows the heat is on.”

“So what do we do now?”

“At least we know that The Suit isn’t with the City narcs,” said Jack.

“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. CC said she would keep this on a need-to-know basis. She couldn’t have told too many people.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing. We shouldn’t forget Department of Justice, either.”

Danny thought for a moment, then said, “There can’t be that many guys who knew. If we get pictures of all the possibilities, maybe Marcie could point him out to us.”

“Possibly. Either way, I figure we’ll find out who this bastard is before the week is over!”

Sparks turned and looked at Whiskey Jake. “Who is this Marcie? Think we should let Damien know?”

“Fuckin’ right!”

chapter thirty-four

Assistant Commissioner Isaac accepted the call from Wigmore, who had heard the news about two members of Satans Wrath being blown up. He sounded more deranged than before when Isaac mentioned that Taggart had submitted a report saying that an informant indicated that it was the result of internal strife within the club.

Wigmore said he had been building a file on Taggart and asked Isaac to look in his desk drawer. He said the documentation would prove that another one of Taggart’s so-called informants, Edward Trimble, had been dead for years.

Isaac felt that Wigmore was psychotic, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any fibres of truth to his allegations. He spoke with Inspector Burg, who was filling in as a temporary replacement for Wigmore. Inspector Burg rifled through the desk and found a folder marked “Project Hotshot” and handed it to Isaac. Edward Trimble had been dead for over two years.

Late that afternoon, Inspector Burg examined the contents of a computer disc that he found in Wigmore’s desk. He called Isaac, who took one glimpse, then called GIS. A search warrant would be obtained immediately.

Early in the afternoon of the next day, Jack called Natasha to make arrangements to pick her up. Liz was holding a surprise dinner party for Marcie for receiving an excellent report card. As he hung up, his cellphone rang.

Sparks, sitting near the apartment in his van, nudged Whiskey Jake and said, “Piggy’s got another call. It’s on his fuckin’ cell so we’ll only get his half of the conversation.”

Louie was quick and to the point. “I’ve got some news. Are you and Danny sitting down?”

“Danny went home to pick up his mail,” replied Jack. “He’ll be back in an hour.”

“You missed an interesting event last night. I just found out myself.”

“I’m so damn sore I just about need a wheelchair to move around in. Mental note: never fight with a guy named Thumper.”

Sparks smiled and gave Whiskey Jake the thumbs-up sign.

“I had planned on coming in tomorrow,” continued Jack. “What’s up?”

“I just talked with Isaac. We may have found the leak!”

“You think you know who The Suit is? Fantastic! Who?”

“Wigmore!”

“What?” Jack felt dumfounded. “Why? Why would he do that?”

“They found something in his desk. He’s a goddamned pervert. Into kiddie porn. They seized a computer out of his apartment last night. It was loaded with the shit. Explains why he wanted your ass so bad.”

“Explains the bomb at the mall. He talked the bikers into doing his dirty work for him!”

“You working on that porn file scared him.”

“Find anything with bestiality?”

“I don’t know yet. They’re still downloading his computer.”

“It makes sense,” said Jack. “He was certainly in a position to know everything.”

“They didn’t find a George Bush mask in his apartment and he doesn’t own a shepherd, but the bikers could be holding that for him.”

“Is he in jail?”

“Not yet. They’re assigning a special prosecutor to review everything. You know the system. It’ll take months.”

“Damn it! What if he skips out? Satans Wrath could send him anywhere in the world!”

“Why would they bother? Child pornography is all we can prove. We’ll be lucky if he gets a hefty fine.”

“I don’t care about proof! As long as there’s enough proof for me!”

Louie didn’t respond. His silence was more powerful.

Jack felt like a fool. Unprofessional. “I was about to pick up Natasha and go to the farm,” he said, changing the subject. “I want a photo of him to show Marcie. See what she says.”

“She didn’t see his face,” Louie said thoughtfully, “but Wigmore has a mole on his neck.”

“Exactly. She was still terrified when she described him to us. Easy to forget stuff. It wouldn’t hurt for her to take a look. Might twig a memory. Even to see if it’s his build or hairstyle.”

“I’ll get you one from Staffing. We should talk about all this. Let’s meet for a quick coffee and I’ll give you a picture.”

“I need to be positive. If she can’t identify the picture, how the hell do we find out?”

“They’re still downloading his computer.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t expect they’ll find evidence, unless he ordered the mask online. Meet you at Starbucks?”

“Be there in forty minutes.”

Jack met Louie, then picked up Natasha later. He glanced in his rear-view mirror. He’d had a feeling that a green van and maybe a car had been following him when they left her apartment, but he hadn’t seen them in the last hour.

He drove down the side road toward the farm and crested a small hill and stopped. Anyone following wouldn’t know he had stopped until they were practically upon him.

“Mind if I ask what you’re doing?”

Jack glanced at Natasha and said, “I’m probably a little paranoid. Just making sure that I’m not being followed.”

“You told me that you thought it was coincidence that those bikers blew themselves up. A drug war. With the way you’re behaving, I get the feeling that there’s more to it than that.”

“There probably isn’t. I’m just the cautious type.”

“Is that why Danny sent Susan and Tiffany to Calgary?”

“As I said, it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”

“Is that why you didn’t come over and see me last night?”

“I felt that I should stay with Danny. We needed to talk.”

“And today?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I was feeling … amorous when you picked me up. You treated me like I had leprosy. You really hurt my feelings, until I realized that you’re moving like someone who is hurt. I take it you don’t want me to see any bruises?”

Jack sighed. “Okay. You’re right. I was in a scrap late Sunday night. Work related. I came in second. Yes, I am feeling a little sore.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m feeling a little tense, okay? I’m really close to knowing who was responsible for killing Maggie and Ben Junior. Sometimes my work is secret. I try to keep things on a need-to-know basis. It’s as simple as that.”

Natasha didn’t respond, but Jack could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t happy.

He put the car in gear, and they remained silent for the rest of the drive.

Marcie was delighted that everyone congratulated her on her good grades. Later, Jack found a moment to take her aside and show her Wigmore’s picture. Marcie didn’t think it was him. Jack told her not to worry about it. He would soon find out for sure.

Jack thought that Natasha had warmed up to him by the time they were leaving. Ben, Liz, and Marcie came out on the back porch to say goodbye.

Marcie gave Jack a hug, then said, “I’m sorry that I couldn’t say the picture you showed me tonight was the guy who hurt me in the cabin.”

“It’s okay. I’ll find out.”

Natasha gave Jack a hard look but kept silent until they were driving home. “Marcie is linked to the guy who ordered the bikers to kill Maggie and Ben Junior, isn’t she?” she asked.

Jack nodded.

“So you’re using her to find out who it is.”

“Sort of, but —”

“She’s just a kid! How could you do that to her? Hasn’t she been through enough?”

Jack sighed, then said, “I know she’s just a kid. But I still have to identify the guy.”

Natasha made no attempt to keep the anger out of her voice. “So you’re keeping her on ice at your sister’s until you need her to help you!”

“No! That’s not why! But if she can help, then I’m still going —”

“You think she might be in danger now! That’s why you were checking to see if we were being followed tonight!”

“I’m only being cautious. I told you….”

“Drive me home, Jack. I really don’t want to talk with you. Ever.”

It was midnight when Jack arrived back at his apartment. He told Danny that Natasha had broken up with him. Danny was sympathetic.

Two hours later, the bottle of Jose Cuervo was three-quarters empty. Jack told Danny to pull out the sofa and go to bed. Whiskey Jake and Sparks heard a bedroom door close, and a few minutes later Sparks turned the speaker down to cut out the sound of Danny’s snoring.

Jack lay in bed as he thought about Natasha. Love, anger, sorrow, and self-doubt ravaged his brain until the pain became physical and gripped his stomach and chest like a vise.

An hour later his thoughts were interrupted when he heard a bottle fall and roll across his coffee table. He got to his feet and padded barefoot into the living room. Danny was snoring on the sofa with one foot dangling beside the coffee table. The bottle of tequila was emptying the last of its contents on his rug. He picked up the bottle and was about to return to his bedroom when he stepped on something. He checked the bottom of his foot and found a small shiny screw. It looked like it came from his stereo.

chapter thirty-five

Lance hung up the phone and went back to eating his breakfast. He tried to figure out what Jack was up to. Who in the club was Rolly’s favourite friend, besides Wizard? That was easy. Stallion and Rolly were like brothers. Real brothers. Where could you find Stallion alone without any club members being around? That was easy, too. Stallion fit his ethnic roots and, being single, dined at his favourite restaurant most nights after work.

Lance mulled it over in his brain. Jack had told him they would meet in person soon. Maybe Jack would explain then.

Whiskey Jake and Thumper watched as Damien reviewed the pictures. They were using a computer monitor at the apartment of one of Thumper’s girlfriends. She had been sent shopping. Damien zoomed in on the digital imaging of Marcie saying goodbye to Jack on the porch.

Whiskey Jake said, “So what do ya think? I don’t know who this little bitch is, but from what we heard, it sounds like she can identify The Suit. Too bad we didn’t see the picture that the pig showed her.”

Damien zoomed in on Jack’s face and watched quietly for about a minute, then said, “The copper doesn’t look too happy. My guess is that he either isn’t sure or doesn’t know at all.”

“Should we get Wizard over for a look?” asked Whiskey Jake.

“No. Even if this girl can’t point a finger at The Suit, it won’t make much difference. With what’s happened, the coppers will soon piece it together, if they haven’t already. I’ll tell Wizard that The Suit is hot and to never deal with him again. If the cops roll him, they’ll try to use him to get at us. Wizard’s judgement has been clouded lately. I don’t want him knowing about this kid and making another mistake. Once we find out who the rat is, make sure you clean the pig’s apartment. It wouldn’t be good if they found the bug.”

“Not a problem. We cut a spare key and he hasn’t changed the locks yet.”

“I’m sure the rat is in the west-side chapter. I’ll get Wizard to call a chapter meeting and pass on something juicy. Something that will make the rat want to meet with the coppers.”

“It’s church night tomorrow for them. He could do it then.”

Damien nodded in agreement. “I’ll meet with Wizard today and tell ’im what I want, so keep your ears tuned to that bug.”

“Sparks is doin’ that as we speak.”

Damien gestured to the monitor and said, “Good job with this.”

Whiskey Jake appreciated the compliment and said, “Yeah, turned out pretty good. Didn’t want to get much closer. On a farm like that, they could have a dog.”

“Stash it someplace safe.”

Whiskey Jake nodded to Thumper, who disconnected the camera from the monitor.

Thumper waited until Whiskey Jake and Damien left the apartment before making a telephone call to his friend in Montreal. The election was only five days away. Did his friend think that Wizard would become the new national pres? Oui!

Thumper smiled to himself as he dialled another number. He was about to become a close friend of the future boss.

It was late afternoon and Sparks sat in the van reading a magazine while the sounds over the speaker told him that the pigs were putting groceries away. He sat bolt upright when he heard Danny yell from the kitchen, “Hey! Aren’t we supposed to pay our friend tonight?”

Jack was in the living room, and his reply was easily heard. “Yeah, I’ll slip out in an hour and do it. I have to go to the bank first. It won’t take long. Why don’t you stay and cook dinner?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Sparks was already using the portable radio. The timing was perfect. Within an hour they would have a complement of eleven vehicles. More than enough to follow this porker!

An hour later, Jack drove out of his underground parking stall and onto the street. The traffic was heavy, forcing him to drive slowly. The bikers followed him from a distance and watched him take money out of a cash machine.

Jack signalled a left turn but quickly changed lanes and turned right. Sparks squeezed the button on the microphone and said, “Did ya see that? Piggy is paranoid!”

Whiskey Jake’s voice replied, “Everybody stay cool. We’ve got lots of wheels.”

The bikers watched as Jack made a variety of moves, including parking for a few minutes and watching traffic pass him before pulling back out onto the street.

After about twenty minutes, Jack’s driving returned to normal and they followed him and watched him park.

“You got an eye?” asked Whiskey Jake.

“No problem,” said Sparks. “He’s out and going into a restaurant called Giuseppe’s. There’s a place right out front where I can park.”

Seconds later, Sparks swore under his breath and kept his binoculars to his eyes as he radioed again. “I can see who he’s meeting — but I don’t believe it!”

Jack entered the restaurant and saw Stallion sitting by himself at a table. Jack walked over and sat down with him.

“Who the fuck are you?” said Stallion. “Get your own fuckin’ table!”

Jack bent down and pretended to scoop something up off the floor and said, “Hey, buddy, I think this is your lucky day!”

“What the fuck you talkin’ about?”

Jack held a rolled wad of money in his hand and said, “I saw this on the floor under your table. I presumed you dropped it.”

“What? Oh! Yeah! That’s mine! Must’ve fallen out of my pocket when I sat down.” Stallion grabbed the money and said, “Thanks, man!”

“At least you could buy me a beer! Looks like quite a bit of cash there.”

Stallion thumbed through the money. What a chump! He chuckled and said, “Yeah, no problem. I’ll have one too.”

Later that night, Lance anxiously hurried up to Jack and Danny in a small park near the pier where Wizard kept his boat.

“What’s up?” Jack asked casually.

“I was hoping you would tell me! I’m supposed to meet Wizard on the dock in thirty minutes and bring a barrel. I’ve seen this picture before! Either I’m getting whacked or else they’re gonna whack somebody else.”

“Trust me. You’re not getting whacked,” replied Jack.

“And if they want me to kill someone? What should I do?”

“Do what you must to survive. We won’t bust you for anything you need to do, but you also have to understand that you don’t have immunity from any other cops.”

“Puts me in a fuck of a spot.”

“It’s better than being in the spot of whoever’s getting whacked.”

“You’re sure it’s not me?”

“It’s not you. Meet us at the cemetery as soon as you’re done.”

Danny passed the binoculars over to Jack and said, “I can make out Wizard and Rolly. Our friend is still sitting on the barrel by the gate to the marina. Looks like they’re just talking.”

Jack peered through the binoculars for a moment, then said, “Here comes someone else pushin’ a wheelbarrow. Looks heavy. It’s … Stallion who’s pushing it.”

Moments later, the four men boarded the boat and it slowly chugged out of sight. It was two hours later when the boat returned and three men got off.

Jack and Danny met Lance at the cemetery. His pale face shone in the moonlight as he leaned against a tombstone and folded his arms across his chest to try to stop the trembling.

“Was it quick?” Jack asked.

Lance slowly shook his head, then paused and said, “I guess it was quicker than it was supposed to be. Stallion didn’t have a clue. He figured we were makin’ a meet to whack someone else. When we were about forty-five minutes out, Wizard came up behind him and busted out half his ribs with a bat. I then hog-tied him. It was bloody awful. Rolly started blubbering like a baby and kept sayin’ that he hadn’t told him anything. Wizard didn’t believe him. As punishment, he told Rolly that he would have to finish him off after.”

“After?” Jack asked.

“Wizard sat on his legs. He had a drill and started to work on his kneecap. I had to gag him after a few seconds because Wiz was worried about noise travelling over water, especially at night. Wiz barely got started again when Rolly lost it and put a slug through his forehead. Wizard was pissed off at him for killing him so soon.”

Jack caught the solemn stare that Danny gave him but looked at Lance instead and asked, “How are you doing?”

“I’m not exactly thrilled about it, but at least it takes the heat off me. Might do the same for you. With what happened, I think Wiz won’t be so tight with Rolly. I could see it in Wiz’s eyes tonight. Rolly’s got no respect now. He’s lucky that Wiz didn’t waste him too. I’m sure I’ll be able to slide in there and find out who The Suit is. Maybe not before the election, but soon.”

Jack and Danny were silent until they got back to the apartment. Danny flipped open the sofa and then said he was going to call Susan tomorrow and move back to his own house.

“Do you want a drink?” Jack asked.

“No. I’m sick enough.”

Three hours later, Jack got out of bed and went to the bathroom to get a glass of water. He turned on the light and looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t like what he saw.

chapter thirty-six

Natasha was more than a little surprised at the message she got from her receptionist. A moment later she stood to give Marcie a hug as she walked into her office. Marcie stiffened and turned away, taking refuge in a chair.

Natasha sat back down and asked, “What are you doing here? How did you get here?”

“I hitched.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

Marcie nodded her head.

“I bet the school has already called Liz.”

“I phoned the school and pretended I was Liz. Told them I was sick and she was keeping me home.”

“Why are you here?”

“Don’t tell anyone. Especially Jack! He’d kick my ass. I mean, my butt.”

“No problem there. Jack and I are no longer seeing each other.”

“Yeah, I know. I heard Liz talking to him. That’s why I came to see ya. I wanted to tell you that Jack’s a really neat guy.”

“I guess I see him a little differently than you.”

“I don’t understand why … and I got the feeling that it’s got something to do with me.”

Natasha stared at Marcie for a moment, then said, “It’s personal.”

“I want you to know that Jack is the only guy I’ve ever trusted. He cares for me. Even though he wants real bad to catch the guy who murdered Ben and Liz’s kids, he’s told me that I would never have to get involved. Like testifying or anything. He said that he would look after it himself. The same goes for the freak who hurt me in the cabin.”

“Interesting.”

“You don’t believe me, do ya?”

“It’s sweet of you to try to do this, but I think it’s best that I put you on a bus and —”

“Sweet of me! Fuck you! Don’t treat me like a little kid! I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for Jack! And you’re the one who is supposed to be a doctor!”

Natasha paused for a moment, then said, “I apologize. I didn’t mean to imply that you were a little child. What do you mean that I am supposed to be a doctor?”

“Jack sees things. Things that you probably should, but don’t.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the night you met me out on the farm. I was going to commit suicide.”

“Suicide! What on earth for? You —”

“As soon as you and Jack came into the loft, he knew it right away. In fact, I think he already knew.”

“I didn’t see that. I thought you were just playing. What —”

“Yeah, I know you didn’t see it. Maybe you should get your eyes tested. But Jack did. He’s talked to me lots since then. I feel better about myself now. I would never think of doing something stupid like that again.”

“That’s good. You know if you ever feel —”

“If you and Jack don’t click, then so be it. But if it’s got somethin’ to do with me, then I’m really pissed off, because I think he’s a really good guy. He really cares about people. I think you’re pretty stupid if you don’t know that.”

Thumper watched as Wizard let The Suit into the motel room.

The Suit gestured to Thumper and said, “I take it this is Lance?”

“No. I changed my mind on that. This is Thumper. He’s … better positioned than Lance. Wait till you see what he has to show ya and you’ll know why.”

“So now who do I contact if need be?”

“If you can’t reach me, contact Thumper. Use Rolly only as a last resort. Forget Damien altogether.”

“This gentleman now makes four who know me. I don’t —”

“I know how ya feel. There’s no need for anyone else to meet ya. Thumper is from a different chapter. Gives us more knowledge about what’s going on. At least until the election. Then everyone will report to me.”

“Provided you win.”

“I’ll win.”

Moments later, Thumper hooked up the camera to the laptop computer. Wizard glanced at The Suit and said, “Take a look at who Taggart is meeting!”

The Suit’s response was exactly what Wizard had expected.

“That little cunt! What’s she doing with him?”

“I know. I fuckin’ near had a heart attack when I saw it too. He’s got her stashed out at his sister’s farm. His sister is the ol’ lady of the kids we —”

“I know who his sister is! What is this little cunt doing there?”

Thumper cleared his throat and said, “We think that maybe she can identify you. Taggart has got her stashed there for safekeeping.”

“Jesus Christ!”

“It’s good that Thumper let us know. That fuckin’ Damien wasn’t gonna tell us!”

“Jesus Christ!” The Suit repeated.

“Now that the pigs don’t have a rat anymore, she’s the only other loose end,” said Wizard.

“Her and that fucking Taggart! He needs to be dealt with as well!”

“Exactly. I’ll do ’em both, but we should wait until after the election on Monday.”

“Forget that! We could be in jail by then! Or from what I know about Taggart, we could be dead.”

“If we whack them, Damien will be pissed. If I don’t win the election, he’ll have me whacked for doin’ it.”

“And me too,” added Thumper, looking at Wizard. “So you better fucking win.”

“You’ll win — especially if you do exactly as I tell you,” said The Suit. “I’ve got a plan that will earn you enough — what do you call it? — class to become national president for as long as you want.”

“How?”

“Simple. Grab the little bitch when she’s alone someplace. As soon as you do, I’ll set up Taggart and O’Reilly so they’re easy to kill. If Taggart’s body is never found, and O’Reilly and the little bitch are killed with Taggart’s gun, it’ll make it look like Taggart flipped out and shot them. Especially if there are no ligature marks.”

Thumper leaned forward in his chair and said, “I can handle six guys and not leave a visible mark on ’em. Ten, if I was in a locked room with ’em.”

“But how?” asked Wizard. “This will never work! They…”

The Suit raised his hand and gestured for Wizard to stop. “I have a plan. Don’t you think I know how cops think? All you need is the proper evidence. This will work. If we have to, kill his sister and her hubby, too. Won’t really matter. Use a shotgun on them, just like their kids. Leave it in Taggart’s trunk and the police will conclude he was also responsible for murdering their children. Arrange for the appropriate evidence in his apartment.” He paused, then said, “It would be prudent to have one or two others to assist. How about this Lance fellow?”

“Lance’s loyalty might be with Damien. I think it would be better to keep him out of this. I’ll get a couple of strikers. T-Bone and Booger. Neither one would question whatever I tell them to do. But you still haven’t explained how or when.”

“Tomorrow is Friday. We do it this weekend. And I’ll tell you exactly how.”

Late Friday night Jack lay in bed gently running his fingers through Natasha’s hair. Her head lay on his chest, and Jack knew by her breathing that she was asleep.

He reflected on their evening. Natasha was a great cook. She was also coy about why she called to apologize for having doubted his sincerity. She said a good friend had opened her eyes but wouldn’t say who. He had the feeling that she enjoyed keeping a secret from him.

He watched the luminous numbers of the digital clock in the bedroom as the minutes slowly flipped by into hours. He tried to sleep but his brain wouldn’t shut off. He took slow, deep breaths to calm himself but had to repeat the process often. He couldn’t stop thinking about two small coffins and the promise he had made to Maggie and Ben Junior.

He waited until early morning, then left a note and slipped quietly away. Leaving a note was easier than answering questions. Besides, if things went as planned, he could explain it to her over dinner tonight.

chapter thirty-seven

Jack’s first stop was his own apartment. He immediately checked a voice-activated tape recorder that he had hidden under the sofa. The footage indicator was unchanged. He looked at his stereo. Do they plan on leaving the bug in there forever?

He showered, changed his clothes, and headed out the door.

It was just before noon on Saturday when CC and Charlie Wells entered the motel lot. The units were individual cabins well spaced from each other, but as Charlie had commented upon their arrival, they were not the type to be recommended by the travel bureau.

They entered the office and CC asked the proprietor if he was Mr. Burnside. When he said he was, she showed him her badge and introduced her partner.

“You called our office and said that you had some information concerning the murder of those two children?” she asked.

Burnside looked nervously past them. “I don’t want anyone to see me talking to you.”

“What are you afraid of?” asked CC.

“Bikers,” replied Burnside. “Let’s go in back.”

Moments later, Burnside explained. “Bikers started bringing this creep to my motel,” he said, nervously glancing out the door. “Then they bring him young girls. Real young. A biker would always sit outside in a car and wait. It’s none of my business. I just rent the rooms.”

“What does this have to do with the murder?” asked CC.

“I was warned last night by one of the bikers that I should get out of the city for a couple of weeks. Can’t do that. Lose too much business.”

“Why? What biker?”

“Dunno. I think he’s with Satans Wrath. He told me this guy who likes little girls has flipped out. He says the guy is gonna start killin’ anyone who can identify him.”

“You still haven’t said what this has to do with —”

“The biker says to me, you heard about those two kids in the farmhouse? I says, yeah. He says that this weirdo was gonna do somethin’ to the girl but her little brother came in and he ended up killing ’em both. Guess he told the kids to stand on one side of a door ’cause he didn’t want to look at their faces when he did it. Then he blasted away with a shotgun from the other side. Apparently he missed the little boy and had to do him later. Don’t know if this is all bullshit or not, but thought I should tell ya.”

CC exchanged a glance with her partner. The information on how the kids were killed had never been released to the public. This was the lead they had been waiting for.

“Who is this guy? Can you identify him?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Only saw him for a second. Like I said, he’s weird. I went past this cabin one night. I could tell he was takin’ pictures because of the flash. The curtain wasn’t completely closed and I saw him stark naked except for wearing a mask of George Bush.”

“You sure it was a George Bush mask?” asked CC.

“Yup. And it wasn’t Halloween. But this other night was different. I think that the girl he was with slashed his back with a knife. The biker wanted me to bring a first-aid kit. I only saw his face for a second when I brought the kit. I think the guy was angry that I saw him.”

“How often does he come here?”

“Maybe once a month. The biker rents the room and pays cash. Another one of the Smith family. I did write the weirdo’s licence plate number down once.”

“You’ve got his licence plate number?” CC could barely conceal her excitement.

“Yeah, but it was a couple of weeks ago and now I can’t find it. It might still be around someplace. I was lookin’ before ya came over.”

“I’ll give you my card,” said CC. “I want you to keep looking and call me immediately if you find it or if this guy shows up!”

Wizard waited until Burnside was alone before walking out of a nearby unit.

“They believe ya?” he asked.

“Hook, line, and sinker!”

At noon, Jack called Natasha. She was perturbed that he had slipped away without waking her. He apologized and said that there was some work he had to take care of but hoped the restaurant he had made dinner reservations at would make up for it.

“I know the place,” said Natasha. “Was there once, years ago. Right on top of Burnaby Mountain. It’s beautiful. Has a panoramic view of Vancouver. You’re forgiven!”

Thumper crept through the bushes and then dropped to the ground. He adjusted his binoculars and saw Ben walking to the barn. An hour ticked by before he saw Elizabeth come to the door and holler that lunch was ready. Moments later, Ben and Marcie walked from the barn to the house.

Thumper went back to a small dirt road where a van was parked amongst the trees. Rolly, T-Bone, and Booger were waiting inside. All three had sawed-off shotguns on their laps.

“Well?” asked Rolly.

“All three of ’em are in the house havin’ lunch right now. Give Wiz a call and tell him we’re ready to rock an’ roll.”

Jack glanced at Natasha as he took the exit off the main highway and onto Capilano Road. She was wearing a new dress and looked particularly ravishing. “Have you ever been here before?” he asked.

“The Capilano Suspension Bridge? No, but I looked it up on the Net once. The view looked beautiful.”

“You’re right about that. Stretches out over 450 feet and hangs 230 feet above the river. Hope you’re not afraid of heights.”

“No, it sounds like a fun place for a walk. Just make sure we don’t miss our dinner reservation. I’ve been looking forward to that all afternoon.”

“The park closes at five. That gives us lots of time to get to the restaurant.”

“Only gives us half an hour here, though,” said Natasha, looking at her watch.

Jack didn’t respond. With what he had to say, she might decide never to see him again. He parked the car and adjusted his tie and straightened his suit jacket as he walked around to open her door.

After passing a cluster of totem poles, they made their way onto the suspension bridge. There were few tourists this time of year. Jack noticed one solitary figure carrying a cooler in one hand and a large bag in the other hand as he trudged across the bridge far ahead of them.

“My God, it’s high!” said Natasha, putting one hand on the railing.

“Are you scared?”

“No … not with you here. Just excited! This is absolutely breathtaking!”

Jack held her hand as they walked toward the centre. He found himself unable to appreciate or study his surroundings. He looked at Natasha and knew that her excitement was waning as she glanced periodically at his face. They stopped to admire the view from the centre of the bridge, and Jack stood with his arm around her.

“Look! Someone left a cooler,” observed Natasha.

“I saw someone ahead of us leave it there a moment ago,” replied Jack. “Probably heavy. Bet he plans on picking it up on the way back.”

Jack glanced around. They were alone on the bridge. He didn’t see the figure hidden amongst the trees at the far end of the bridge. The man used binoculars to spot his cohort hiding on the opposite side. A portable radio hanging from his belt crackled. “Got your charges set?”

“All set,” he replied.

Out in the middle of the bridge, Natasha turned to Jack and abruptly said, “Okay, what is it? You’re not looking at the view and when you look at me it’s like you’re someplace else. What happened? Something this afternoon? What’s going on?”

Jack’s mind went numb. His carefully planned words escaped him. He felt like someone had ripped his tongue out.

“Jack! What is it?”

He reached in his suit pocket and handed Natasha the small velvet box.

“Oh … Jack,” whispered Natasha.

She carefully opened the box and looked at the engagement and wedding rings. The engagement ring was made of yellow gold with three small diamonds imbedded in a V at the top. The V fit into the wedding ring, which had a large diamond in the centre with three smaller diamonds in an opposite V behind the centre diamond.

“I take it you’re asking me to marry you?”

Jack nodded his head. He knew he had a goofy grin on his face, but he was so consumed by anticipating what Natasha’s response would be that he was at a loss for words.

Tears welled up in Natasha’s eyes, but she chose her words carefully and spoke firmly. “Jack, you know I love you, but I want more out of life than that. Someday I want to have children.”

“I want children, too. That’s why —”

“Let me finish. I want someone who will be around to be a husband and father forever.”

“You’re doubting my loyalty? I can’t believe that you would think —”

“I’m not doubting your loyalty! I believe you keep your promises. Which is what I’m afraid of. I’ve seen your eyes when you talk about Maggie and Ben Junior. It’s that loyalty that scares me! I can accept that your job is dangerous. What I can’t accept is you committing … some act that would see you taken away from me. I’d make a lousy pen pal!”

Jack felt his eyes water. “Give me a minute, please.” He turned and walked to the opposite side of the bridge and stared out over the abyss. He wondered if he would ever be able to sort out his thoughts. After a couple of seconds, he realized that the answer was really very simple. The most important thing in my life is standing right behind me.

He turned to face Natasha. “I promise you that from this moment forward, I will not do anything that … that would jeopardize my future with you.”

Natasha was silent for only a moment, and then she started to cry. “In that case, I would be very pleased to marry you.”

They kissed and hugged for several moments before Jack remembered to take the champagne from the cooler.

“What? This is yours?” Natasha asked, as Jack popped the cork and filled two glasses.

Neither one had time to say a toast. Explosions at both ends of the bridge lit up the evening sky over their heads with fireworks.

“Jack!”

“Danny is at one end. A good friend by the name of Louie is at the other.”

Natasha looked in awe at the fireworks and said, “This is so beautiful.” She raised her glass and said, “To spending the rest of our lives together.”

“As long as we both shall live.”

chapter thirty-eight

On Sunday morning, Jack felt the warmth from the sun shining through Natasha’s patio doors as he ate his breakfast.

Natasha smiled at him and said, “You’re a man full of surprises, Jack.”

Jack swallowed the last of his toast and said, “You didn’t see it coming?”

“No. I didn’t see any of it coming. Yesterday was like a dream.”

“I’m glad it was a dream and not a nightmare. I was pretty nervous.”

“You also must have been pretty busy! We barely stepped inside the restaurant last night before they played The Marriage of Figaro. For the maître d’ to be that attentive, I suspect you must have been more than generous.”

“Yesterday was a little hectic, but you know something?”

“What?”

“You’re worth it.”

“You’re damn right, I am!” Natasha laughed.

Jack checked his watch and said, “If you’re going to take Marcie out for lunch, you better get going.”

“You’re sure she doesn’t know?”

Jack shook his head. “Marcie was in the barn when I called. Liz is really excited but she won’t say anything to her until you break the news.”

“Good.”

“I’m really pleased that you want to do this for Marcie.”

“You don’t feel left out?”

“Not a bit. Especially shopping for clothes. The two of you will have a lot more fun without me tagging along. Besides, I need to get back to my own apartment and change.”

From his hiding place, Thumper watched as Ben towed the fertilizer spreader around the field on his tractor. Thumper unzipped a sleeping bag as the late-morning sun sucked the dew from the ground. Then he saw Elizabeth and Marcie come out of the house and start hanging clothes from a clothesline that ran from the back porch of the house.

Thumper glanced behind him as Rolly crept through the bush to take his turn at watching.

“They movin’ around?” asked Rolly.

“Doesn’t look like they’re goin’ anywhere. Couldn’t be a better time to pop ’em. The guy is out in the field on a tractor and the bitches are doin’ laundry. If we whack the bitches first, farmboy shouldn’t hear the noise.”

“Haven’t heard from Wiz.”

“Give him a call. Tell ’em the three fish are in the barrel. I think it’s time.”

Jack was excited when he arrived back at his own apartment. Too excited to remember to check his voice-activated tape recorder. It was a mistake he would soon regret.

After taking a shower and changing his clothes, he reached for his telephone. There were a lot of people to call and share the news with. Danny would stand beside him as best man, along with Louie and Paul, his previous partner. He would need six more to form the honour guard.

Marcie was ready on time and got in the car as soon as Natasha arrived. They went to a mall and shopped for about an hour before having lunch. Marcie was polite and seemed appreciative that Natasha bought her some clothes, but she was not overly friendly.

Natasha took a second bite out of her shrimp croissant before realizing that Marcie was staring at her without eating. “Something wrong with your lunch?” she asked.

“What’s going on?”

“Can’t I buy you lunch?”

“I feel like somethin’ is going on. Like you’re not telling me something.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I know you’re back with Jack. Where is he? You’re not breakin’ up with him again, are you? Is that it? Is that why you brought me here? To tell me that?”

Natasha put down her fork, smiled, and said, “Quite the contrary. You’re right, something is going on. I invited you here to ask you something that’s really important and very special to me.”

“What is it?” asked Marcie seriously.

“I wanted to ask you if you would be my bridesmaid.”

It took Marcie a couple of seconds to grasp the situation, then she squealed and said, “You’re getting married!”

“Jack proposed to me yesterday … well, sort of proposed.”

Marcie bounced around in her seat as she said, “And, and … you want me to be your bridesmaid?”

“It was you who brought Jack and I together. After playing such an important role in my life — our lives — of course I would like you to be my bridesmaid. If you don’t mind?”

“Don’t mind! You bet I will! Oh, Natasha, this is great!”

An hour later, Natasha and Marcie were loading parcels into the trunk of Natasha’s car when Natasha heard the door of a van parked next to her slide open. She glanced up as three men moved in behind them and stuck guns in their backs.

A voice hissed, “If either one of you talks, screams, or tries to run, we’ll kill the other one.”

Seconds later, Natasha and Marcie lay face down on the floor of a van as it silently drove out of the parking lot.

Natasha felt the tears roll down her face. She had never been so afraid in her life. She stared into Marcie’s face. She had a look of resignation about her. It was as if she had already resigned herself to her fate.

Jack was making a list of the people who would be in the honour guard at his wedding when his cellphone rang.

“Taggart! This is Sid Bishop! I need to see you and O’Reilly now!”

“What is it, Sid? If you’re still concerned about bikers, I’m sure you’re not in any danger.”

“It’s about the wiretap application for Homicide. I just received an interesting phone call from someone about the real identity of a person identified in the application as an Edward Trimble!”

Jack felt his heart sink. “I don’t understand. Who called you? What does —”

“I believe you understand fully! I haven’t mentioned this to anyone else yet, but I will not allow justice to be put into disrepute! I suggest that you and Mister O’Reilly come to my house immediately and start telling me what is going on!”

“I’ll pick up Danny and we’ll be there as soon as we can,” said Jack quietly. “It will probably take about an hour and a half.”

Moments later, Jack called Danny and then left his apartment. He was barely a block away when Wizard and Booger entered his suite.

Forty-five minutes passed before the van came to a stop and the side door slid open. Natasha heard the roar of the ocean. She looked up and saw three bikers standing at the door, looking down at her. Then another face appeared, someone who didn’t look like a biker but was definitely in charge.

“Taggart and O’Reilly took the bait. Should happen within the hour,” he said.

Natasha’s panic increased. None of the men had bothered to hide their faces. She also saw that at the sound of the man’s voice Marcie squeezed her eyes shut and began to shake.

“Put them in the boat,” he ordered. “Thumper, you stay with them, then the rest of you set up around the house.” He looked at Thumper and added, “Remember the plan. Don’t leave any marks on them. With the sound of the waves, even if they yell they won’t be heard, but if they do try to cause any problems, snap their necks, or, if need be, slash their throats immediately. We’re not taking any chances!”

“Not a problem,” said Thumper, stepping from the van.

Moments later, Natasha and Marcie found themselves face down on the bunk of a cabin cruiser. The bunk was covered in plastic sheeting.

Natasha heard the men leave, except for one. She could hear his breathing and knew that he was standing close, watching over her.

CC and Charlie Wells were in the Homicide office when CC received a call. It took her a few minutes to calm Mr. Burnside down.

“I got another warning from the bikers! Told me to get out of the city now! This time I’m doin’ it!”

“Why? What did they say? Did this guy meet you in person?”

“Yeah. Same guy as before. Big guy with a goatee. He said that the pervert has really gone berserk. Thinks he’s murderin’ people right now!”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. The biker just told me that after this guy molested one of the girls, he buddied up to her later without her knowin’ it was him. You know, like I told ya, he wore a mask.”

“You told me.”

“Yeah, well anyway, I guess he gave this girl a place to live with his sister someplace.”

“Why did he do that?”

“I don’t know, but now he’s going to kill ’em.”

“He’s going to murder this girl and his sister?”

“Not quite. I guess the girl is meetin’ with the pervert’s lady friend. Got him paranoid that the girl has clued in and is talkin’.”

“You don’t have any idea who? Anything at all to help?”

“Remember I told ya I once got this creep’s licence plate number?”

“Yes.”

Well, I found it.”

She motioned for Charlie Wells to come over to her desk. “Quick, run this! It’s the pervert’s plate from the motel.”

Moments later, Charlie walked back into the office as CC hung up the telephone. She noticed he looked ill and appeared to be at a loss for words. “What is it?” she asked.

Charlie shook his head and waved a printout of the registration in front of him. “You’re not going to believe it. The plate. You’re not going to believe it.”

“Damn it, Charlie! Out with it!”

“It’s registered to Jack Taggart!”

“Bullshit!” CC looked at the registration, then quickly looked through her notebook.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll tell you in a sec. I’m calling the Anderson parents.”

CC’s worst fears were realized moments later, when she spoke with Elizabeth and learned that they were looking after a girl by the name of Marcie. A girl who was having lunch with Jack’s girlfriend, Dr. Natasha Trovinski. Elizabeth didn’t know the name of the restaurant, but she did know the name of the mall. CC told her that she had some routine questions. Nothing urgent. No need to bother Jack on his cellphone.

CC hung up the phone and leaned back in her chair. “Oh, God! No!”

“What is it?”

“The sick bastard felt guilty for killing his sister’s kids so he found some street kid to live with them. Now he’s going to kill her and some doctor that the kid’s talking to!”

“So we come clean with him?” asked Danny.

“Wait to see what Sid has to say,” replied Jack. “One guess as to who called him!”

“Turn right,” said Danny, as he studied the map.

“Depending on what he says, I might admit that I was Trimble. He told me that he hadn’t told anyone, so that’s a good sign.”

“You feel you can trust him?”

“I don’t know,” said Jack, “but how much could Wigmore really tell him without divulging stuff about himself?”

Jack parked the car in front of a triple-car garage that protruded from one end of Bishop’s estate, and then he followed Danny on the slate-stone path that meandered alongside the garage and up to the main entrance. Plastic sheeting was draped over the porch and onto the steps leading up. Bishop stepped out the front door carrying a can of paint and set it down. He looked startled when he saw them approach and said, “I didn’t expect you this soon. Come on in!”

Natasha turned on her side and looked at Thumper when he sat on the edge of the bunk. He leered down at her and said, “I have to admit, your pig boyfriend has good taste in women.”

“You won’t get away with this,” replied Natasha. “Jack will find you. You hurt either one of us and I can guarantee that it will be nothing compared to what he will do to you,” she said, matter-of-factly.

Thumper chuckled, then said, “I hate to break it to you, lady, but your pig boyfriend is a pussy. I kicked the shit out of him last Sunday. Took me all of about twenty seconds, and that was without really trying.”

“You’re the one who did that?”

“The pussy told ya? Of course! He’d go crying to you to fix him up.”

“You know something? As a doctor, I’ve discovered that men like you, who like to fight, are really compensating for the fact that they have a penis about the size of a peanut. Jack is much more of a man than you could ever dream of being.”

Thumper stood up, and his voice was menacing. “Talk like that, bitch, and you’ll find out how big my peanut is!”

“Really? You think you could get it up enough for me to quit laughing!”

Thumper stared down at her for a moment, then sneered and said, “Naw, I know your little game. You figure if I drop my strides and fuck you, it will give you a chance to escape.”

Natasha stared sullenly back, shrugged, and said, “Something like that.”

Thumper chuckled, then considered her for a moment and said, “Maybe you’re in luck. I like games.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a hunting knife. “There is a little thing that The Suit has about DNA … but you know something?”

Natasha stared back without responding.

Thumper reached into a pocket and held out a condom. “I’m not too worried about DNA!”

Natasha edged farther back on the bunk, pulling her knees close to her chest.

“No, don’t, mister,” said Marcie. “Leave us alone.”

Thumper looked at Marcie and said, “I’m not talking to you, you little whore.” He opened the bathroom door beside the bunk and said, “Get in there and wait. If you speak again or try to open this door, I’ll kill the doc immediately and you right after!”

“Do it, Marcie. Do what he says,” said Natasha quietly.

Natasha saw the tears running down Marcie’s face. She slowly eased herself down off the bunk and went inside the bathroom.

“I’ve already searched in there, so you might as well sit quietly until I tell you to come out,” said Thumper, closing the door.

Natasha sized up the situation. Even if Marcie did decide to run, she couldn’t open the door without it banging into Thumper … unless she got him completely up on the bunk with her.

Thumper looked at the bathroom door and then back at Natasha. He smiled and said, “I’ll tell you how this little game will be played. I’ll give ya a chance to escape. A real good chance. But if you take that chance and lose, then you fuck me and you fuck me hard. Understood?”

“You’ve got the knife,” Natasha said. “Is that what you call giving me a chance?”

“I said I’ll give ya a good chance. Here it is!” said Thumper, tossing the knife down beside Natasha’s hand and stepping back.

Natasha grabbed the knife and pushed herself back on the bunk, expecting him to attack. He stood where he was, then faked a yawn and turned his back toward her and gazed toward the exit.

Natasha leapt from the bunk in a flash, lunging toward his kidneys. Thumper sidestepped with ease and grabbed Natasha. Her scream was muffled as her face hit the floor and the sudden pain in her bent wrist caused the knife to clatter onto the floor.

Thumper kicked the knife away, then picked her up and tossed her back onto the bunk. “Guess you just lost your chance, bitch. Time to see if your peanut theory is all that funny!”

Natasha got her breathing under control, then begged, “Please … don’t hurt us.”

“You don’t wanna get hurt? Then fulfill your end of the bargain. Or should I take it out on her?” said Thumper, gesturing toward the bathroom door.

“No … not her. I’ll … I’ll do it.”

Natasha sat on the bunk, took off her jacket, and laid it beside her. Then she slowly unbuttoned her blouse and slipped it off. Thumper ogled her breasts, which were only partially concealed by her lacy black bra. Natasha used her hands to push herself slightly back on the bunk before undoing the top of her slacks. She stared at Thumper as she slowly pulled the zipper partway down, then stopped and gestured for him to come up on the bunk with her.

Thumper smiled and gave a nod toward the bathroom while taking hold of Natasha’s ankles. “Not up there, sweetheart.” He pulled her legs down off the bunk so that she was straddling his waist, then he undid his jeans and let them drop to the floor.

“I’ll be good,” whispered Natasha. “Just let us go after.”

“Yeah … sure. If you’re real good, maybe I will.”

Natasha sat up and slowly undid the buttons on Thumper’s shirt. When he tossed his jacket and shirt on the floor, she placed her hand on the back of his head and guided his face into her cleavage as she fell back down onto the bed. Thumper felt her clutching his hair while slowly pushing his head toward her stomach.

He watched her face as he kissed and licked her navel, while pulling down the rest of her zipper before sliding off her slacks and panties. He continued to lick and taste the salt from her body, slowly working his way down to her thighs. He felt her fingers massage and scratch his head and shoulders. She took her hands off him briefly as her body twisted and she moaned. He glimpsed her fingers as she clawed and raked the bunk beside herself like a cat in heat.

“Time to put this on,” he said heavily, reaching for the condom.

“Not yet,” whispered Natasha. “You said to be good. Make it last. Do what you’re doing a little more.” She massaged his back with increasing intensity then grasped his head, urging him upwards. He licked and kissed his way back up her stomach while arching her back with one hand and pulling her bra aside as his lips searched for her nipples. He felt her fingernails rake his upper back and neck as she pulled his face deep into the side of her breast while wrapping her legs around his.

“Back off with the scratching, bitch! That…” Thumper didn’t finish the sentence. He suddenly realized that he was lying in a warm sticky pool. He pushed himself upright as a torrent of blood flowed from the carotid artery in his neck like a severed garden hose. He grasped at the thin cut running lengthways up his throat and stared in horror at Natasha. She sat looking up at him, a bloodied scalpel in her hand.

“Consider yourself fucked,” she said. “Fucked hard.”

Spots of blackness swept over him as his brain starved for blood. He staggered back a step, then lost consciousness and fell backwards onto the floor. His heart continued to beat momentarily before it, too, accepted death.

Natasha dragged his body aside and opened the bathroom door.

Marcie saw Natasha’s body awash in blood and opened her mouth to scream. Natasha clamped her hand over her mouth.

“I’m okay. This isn’t my blood. The guy’s dead. I killed him. We’ve got to be quiet,” Natasha said, taking her hand away.

“What happened?” whispered Marcie. “What’s going on? How did you kill him?”

“I had a scalpel in my jacket pocket,” said Natasha, while putting her clothes back on. “Put it there one night when I went to the clinic to help Jack. Save the talk for later. We’ve got to get out of here.”

“That man. The one who told them to put us on this boat. I recognize his voice. He’s the one … the one who…”

“The one who molested you in the cabin?”

Marcie nodded, then said, “Why would they take us?

“I’m not sure, but they didn’t hide their faces, so that’s not a good sign. I’m guessing it must be a trap for Jack and maybe Danny. Come on!”

Natasha crept forward and peered out the exit. She saw two bikers standing at the back of the house. They were both carrying rifles and talking to someone through a window.

“Two of them are in the backyard with rifles. They’ve got their backs to us, but I can’t tell if someone in the house is looking this way or not. Are you a swimmer?”

“No,” said Marcie.

“See if we can find any keys to this thing.”

Both Natasha and Marcie searched for keys. There weren’t any.

“I’ve got to chance it,” said Natasha. “They could come back any second. You wait at the top of the stairs while I slip across to the boathouse on the other side. Maybe I’ll find something.”

Natasha peeked out the exit and saw the bikers disappear, one around each side of the house. She scrambled off the cabin cruiser and scooted across the dock to a small boathouse. She cautiously opened the door and saw a high-powered speedboat parked inside. She climbed in and frantically searched for keys.

She abruptly froze when the door to the boathouse opened, then realized it was Marcie.

“You should have waited!”

“I was afraid. Did you find any keys?”

“No.”

“Maybe we should make a run for it down the dock!”

“It’s too long in the open. We’d never make it. I think —”

Natasha was interrupted by the sound of gunfire.

chapter thirty-nine

Sid moved the paint and stepladder to one side, then opened his front door again and gestured for Jack and Danny to come up the steps and follow him inside. They stopped when a German shepherd came out onto the porch and started barking.

“QC! Quit barking!” Sid commanded, then said to Jack and Danny, “It’s okay, he won’t bite. Come on in.”

“You named your dog Cutesy?” asked Jack, glancing at Danny.

“Cutesy?” Sid chuckled. “No. It’s QC! Short for Queen’s Counsel. Cute, don’t you think?”

Jack exchanged another glance with Danny. They looked at the plastic sheeting in front of them and both went for their guns.

“Do it now!” screamed Sid toward his foyer. “They know!”

Jack pumped two shots through the door. The dog lunged at him, knocking him down as a rifle shot sent a bullet zinging past him into the side of the garage. In front of him, he caught a glimpse of Rolly clutching his throat and staggering back as the door swung open. He was only partly conscious that Danny was taking aim at whoever had the rifle. His attention was focused on Booger, who appeared in the foyer carrying a MAC-10 submachine gun.

Danny saw T-Bone standing at the end of the house as he took aim to fire another shot at Jack. Danny fired three shots. Only one counted, but it was enough. T-Bone fell to the ground as the bullet tore through the centre of his chest.

A barrage of shots rang out from the foyer, along with another shot from near the garage behind them. Danny crouched beside the steps and turned to see who was by the garage.

Jack lay on his back on the path and tried to protect his face from the dog’s savage attacks with one hand while firing more rounds at Booger, who let loose with a short burst of fire before leaping back out of sight. More bullets whizzed over Jack’s head from behind him, and the dog yelped and fell to the ground when a rifle bullet severed its spine.

“Take cover!” Danny yelled. “Wizard’s behind you!”

Jack’s only place for cover was in the house, and he bolted through the door while firing rapidly. He caught a glimpse of Sid running up a spiral staircase but directed his shots toward Booger, who stood in the living room and fired another spray of bullets toward Jack.

Jack dived into a shallow pond inlaid in the floor near the bottom of the staircase. He squeezed off another shot at Booger, who darted back behind the wall. Jack barely had enough room to keep his face out of the water without exposing his head above the edge of the pond. Looking up, he could see only the lower half of the spiral staircase. Rolly’s head and one arm lay in the pond. Blood from his throat spilled into the water. His other hand lay limp at his side.

Jack raised his head slightly to look toward the living room, but a rifle bullet delivered from outside by Wizard ricocheted off the ceramic tile floor and zinged past. Wizard was rewarded for his effort by two shots from Danny, who was still crouched behind the steps. Wizard quickly retreated back behind the garage.

For a few seconds, everything was quiet except for the sound of a koi gasping for life as it flopped around on the floor.

Sid then screamed from above. “Get in there! Finish them off!”

Booger yelled back, “We’re at a bit of a Mexican stand-off here. I’ve got him pinned down. Go to a window and tell Wizard and the others to finish the pig at the door first, then we can do this one from both sides.”

Danny peeked over the edge of the top step while punching the numbers into his cellphone. When he connected, he screamed the address first, then said, “It’s O’Reilly and Taggart! We’re at Sid Bishop’s house!” A rifle bullet slammed into the cement in front of his face. Fragments of lead and cement shot into his face and eyes. His cellphone flew from his hand as he fell back. Pain shot through his head and blood gushed out of his forehead and into his eyes.

Jack heard Danny’s body slam into the side of the house. He yelled out from the pond, “Danny! Are you all right? Danny!” There was no reply. He grabbed Rolly’s body and slid him into a position to partially block Wizard’s view, while trying to keep watch on the corner of the living room wall. He yelled for Danny again. No response. His mind felt numb.

Wizard shouted, “Booger! What’s happening in there?”

“Rolly took a hit! He’s bought it, but I’ve got the pig pinned down in the fucking fish pond. What’s taking you and T-Bone so long?”

“T-Bone is down, but I shot this fucking pig in the face as he was usin’ his cell. I think he’s dead.”

Sid hollered, “Did he get through? Do you know if he got through?”

“I heard him give your address,” Wizard yelled, “but don’t think he said much else before I nailed him.”

Sid screamed an angry, jumbled list of obscenities while kicking a wall.

“We still got time to think of somethin’,” Wizard shouted. “Booger! You sure you got that pig in there pinned down?”

Jack saw that Booger had taken a mirror off the wall and propped it out from the corner of the living room to see him. The two men stared at each other’s reflection. It was easier for both of them knowing where the other one was and what they were doing.

Booger yelled back to Wizard, “No problem! This pig ain’t goin’ nowhere for now!”

“Okay!” Wizard responded. “Sid! I’m goin’ down to the boat and get Thumper. We’ll kill the bitches and use oil and gas from your boat to throw in the pond and flush out Taggart. Torch the pigs and nobody will figure out what really happened.”

“You’re going to burn my fucking house?”

“It was your idea to do it here! So now what? You got a better idea?”

There was a short pause, then Sid said, “Do it!”

CC and Charlie Wells left a team of investigators to finish searching Taggart’s apartment. They were only partway back to the office when they heard the broadcast from Communications that O’Reilly had called for help from the Bishop home but was cut off by the sound of gunfire.

CC grabbed the radio and said, “Was Taggart with him?”

“Ten-four!”

“We want Taggart for at least two murders! If O’Reilly is dead, Taggart likely killed him. Make sure everyone knows! I’m on my way!”

Jack tried his own waterlogged cellphone. No surprise that it didn’t work. Danny’s dead…. What did Wizard mean, kill the bitches? A few moments later he heard Sid speaking to him from near the top of the staircase.

“Taggart! You hear me? Taggart!”

Jack didn’t respond, so Sid continued, “We’ve got your doctor lady friend and that little bitch you had stashed at your sister’s! I want you to know that they’re dying at this very moment!”

The numbness in Jack’s brain was replaced with terror.

“How do you feel, Taggart? You’ll be joining them in a couple of minutes. Better think of something to say to them!”

Before Jack could reply, the sound of gunfire came from behind the house.

“Did you hear that, Taggart?” said Sid, letting out a high-pitched laugh. “Did you hear that?”

Jack’s mind burned with rage. He glanced up the stairs, then back at Booger, watching him through the mirror.

Natasha peeked out the boathouse door and saw Wizard running down the dock toward her. She quickly closed the door and turned to Marcie and said, “We have to go in the water.”

“I can’t swim!”

“It’s our only —”

“Thumper!” yelled Wizard from beside the boathouse. “Thumper!” Wizard climbed into the cabin cruiser and screamed, “Jesus Christ! You fucking bitches!”

Wizard saw bloody footprints leading to the boathouse. With his rifle ready, he kicked open the door and stepped inside. It took him only a moment to spot the blood and wet hand marks on the walkway. He knew that Natasha and Marcie were hiding under the dock.

Marcie clung to Natasha’s neck. Only their heads were above water as Natasha slowly moved along under the dock. Wizard’s feet sounded above their heads, and Natasha caught a glimpse of his face as he stared down through the cracks in the boards searching for them.

Wizard pumped two shots into the dock by his feet, then stepped out of the boathouse and moved slowly along the dock, firing several more shots through the boards as he went. Bullets swooshed through the water around Natasha and Marcie, but none found their mark.

“I know you bitches can hear me,” said Wizard. “Want you to know that I just shot O’Reilly in the face. I’m not lettin’ your boyfriend off so easy, though. Got him tied down. I’m gonna soak his fuckin’ face in gas and oil and have myself a little pig barbecue!”

Wizard stopped and listened. Natasha was crying but didn’t make a noise. She heard the noise of a pail followed by a glugging sound. Drops of oil and gas dripped into the water near her face. Marcie’s wide eyes stared back at her.

“You girls sit tight, I’ll be back for you in a minute!” said Wizard, picking up the pail and walking away.

Wizard hurried across a patio at the rear of the house, slopping gas and oil as he went. He grabbed a lighter from beside a barbecue and cursed when he heard the distant sound of sirens. He took another step but came to an abrupt stop when the bushes parted in front of him.

Danny’s face was a mass of blood. One eye was shut and he used his hand to try to keep the blood out of his other eye. His gun was pointed directly at Wizard’s head.

“Thought you were dead,” said Wizard.

“Put the gun down,” said Danny. He spoke quietly, but there was no mistaking the deadly tone of his voice.

Wizard tossed the rifle onto the ground away from his body.

“Put the pail and lighter down and lie on your belly with your hands stretched out over your head. Turn your face away from me!”

Wizard slowly did as instructed.

“You fucked up,” said Danny. “You haven’t been playing by the rules.”

“What fucking rules?”

“Rules that say you don’t involve my wife and daughter.”

“Maybe you better think about them when you decide what you’re gonna say in court!”

“Maybe I better explain the rules to you.”

“I know my rights. Fuck off, pig.”

“You lost your rights when you tried to kill my family. You need to be educated.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Let me demonstrate,” said Danny, kicking over the pail onto Wizard.

“What the fuck! You can’t…” Wizard’s last words were drowned out by the whoosh of flame when Danny clicked the lighter.

Jack heard the sound of Wizard’s screams from the backyard. It wasn’t long after the screams stopped that he heard the back door being kicked in.

“Jack! You still alive?” yelled Danny.

“Where the hell were you? I thought you were dead!”

“So did Wizard! For him it was fatal. What’s the situation?”

“Sid is upstairs. Don’t know if he’s armed or not. Got a bad guy in the living room who’s got me pinned down. Thumper’s got Natasha and Marcie on some boat out back. That’s where Wizard was going. Was that you shooting at him?”

“No, I met him when he came back from the boat.”

Jack closed his eyes for a second to clear the tears. He opened them in time to see Booger start to move, then settle down again as they continued to watch each other’s reflection.

Jack heard the sound of the sirens coming closer. He glanced upstairs. I’m not letting you surrender, you bastard! He started to climb out of the pond and saw Booger crouch in anticipation.

“Jack!” Danny yelled. “They might be okay!”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw Wizard taking potshots into the dock. There was no sign of Thumper!”

Jack fired two shots through the wall and Booger fell back from sight. Machine gun fire erupted toward the ceiling as Jack dived back into the pond.

“Jack! Where are you? What’s happening?”

“I’m okay. I’m lying in a fish pond in the foyer! I might have hit the guy in the living room but he’s still firing back.”

“That the one with the machine gun?”

“Sure as hell isn’t what I have.” Jack checked his weapon and saw that he was out of bullets. He could no longer see Booger’s reflection in the mirror. He glanced back at a shotgun that Rolly had dropped near the front door but knew he couldn’t reach it without exposing himself to Booger. The sounds of sirens were now augmented by the sound of screeching tires. He heard Sid moving around upstairs.

“Danny! There’s two exits to the living room. I got this one covered, you —”

“Got it,” grunted Danny, waving to Jack from where he was kneeling. Jack saw Danny crouched behind a corner in the kitchen, past the second exit to the living room. Jack’s expression when he saw Danny’s face revealed his shock.

“I’ll make it,” said Danny. “Sounds like the cavalry is about to arrive.”

Seconds later, they heard police cars screeching to a halt in the driveway.

“You hear that, Booger?” yelled Jack.

“I hear it.”

“Throw out your gun and give yourself up!”

“Walk away from my bros?” gasped Booger. “Don’t think so. Why don’t you come in and take it from me?”

Jack heard the car doors opening out front. He thought about Natasha. If she’s dead… He looked down the hall at Danny peeking around the corner.

“I don’t have much time,” yelled Jack.

Danny pointed up to the ceiling and Jack nodded. Danny dropped to his stomach and started to crawl down the hall toward the far exit of the living room.

Jack opened his mouth to scream for Danny to go back, but it would have been too late. He was already completely exposed.

“Booger!” yelled Jack. “You want me to take it from you? Here I come!” He splashed water as he half-climbed from the pond, then sunk close to the floor, waiting for a spray of bullets. None came. Then he heard a thump from the other room.

“Jack!” Danny spoke from the far exit. “You got him. He’s slumped in a chair with blood all over his chest. His gun fell on the floor. Don’t know if he’s dead or not.”

“You cover him,” yelled Jack, while scrambling across the floor and grabbing Rolly’s shotgun. He ran up the spiral staircase two steps at a time.

Once upstairs, Jack found himself in a hallway with closed doors leading to two bedrooms, followed by a double set of doors at the end of the hall that led to the master bedroom. He kicked open the first two doors and barged in. Nobody there. He then fired a blast through the door to the master bedroom before bursting through and diving in on his stomach.

Jack held the shotgun close to his body as he rolled on the carpet, searching for his target. Sid was not in sight. He leapt to his feet and burst into a bathroom and then a walk-in closet. A safe in the closet had its door wide open. He stepped through French glass doors leading to a balcony. Sid was on the ground below, clutching a briefcase as he ran toward the dock.

Jack fired a blast from the shotgun, but he was out of range and Sid only ran faster. He looked at a drain spout that ran from the roof and down past the balcony to the ground. Sid had left several dents in the drain spout, but it was still attached to the wall. Jack saw Wizard’s rifle lying on the ground below him.

Within seconds, he half-slid and then fell the remaining distance when the drain spout broke loose from the house. He landed on his feet and grabbed Wizard’s rifle. Sid had not yet reached the end of the dock. It would be an easy shot.

“Drop it!” a voice commanded.

Jack looked over and saw a uniformed policeman crouching behind the corner of the house and aiming a pistol at him.

“I’m Jack Taggart! I’m a police officer!”

“I said drop it, asshole! I know who you are! You’re under arrest for murder! One more word out of you and you’re dead! I mean it! Now drop it!”

Jack reluctantly tossed the rifle aside. He was then instructed to lie face down on the ground. Soon, two more officers joined the first one. Taggart was handcuffed and brought to his feet in time to see Sid roar out of the boathouse in a speedboat. “You’re making a big mistake!” he said tersely. “Check with O’Reilly inside!”

“We found O’Reilly lying unconscious in the living room. He’s on his way to the hospital. He’s still alive, by the way, so we will be talking to him. Did you shoot him? Or was it one of your biker buddies? Maybe the one he nailed in the living room!”

“What the hell are you thinking? It wasn’t me! Get down to the dock! My fiancée and a girl by the name of Marcie are there! They could be hurt.”

“Yeah, we heard. Don’t know what you did to them, but we will find out!”

Jack was brought around to the front of the house and placed in the back seat of a police car. He saw the hatred in several officers’ faces when they looked at him. What the hell is going on? He then heard an officer radio CC. Her reply wasn’t comforting. “Good! Keep the piece of shit cuffed. I’ll be there in a few minutes!”

CC and Charlie Wells arrived and sat in the front seat of the police car to talk to him.

“It’s over, Jack. We know,” CC said.

“What the hell are you talking about? Get down to the dock! I think my fiancée and a girl by the name of Marcie are there!”

“I know about Natasha and Marcie,” said CC.

“Then see if they’re alive! What the hell is going on?”

“We’ll find them. I would like to hear what you have to say.”

“Those morons out there let Sid escape! He’s the leak! The one they call The Suit!”

CC turned to Charlie and said, “Get the exhibits from the car while I read him his rights.”

Charlie left and CC began to read Jack his legal rights.

“CC, I know my rights, for God’s sake,” replied Jack. “The only lawyer I want is Sid Bishop!”

“Did you kill him, too?” asked CC, glancing at Charlie as he returned with several exhibit bags.

“He took off from here about ten minutes ago in a speedboat.”

“Really? Care to explain this?” said CC, holding up a plastic bag containing a rubber mask of George Bush.

“You found the mask! Where? What…”

“Same place we found these,” said CC, as she picked up another plastic bag containing dozens of sexually explicit photographs of young girls. “In your apartment!”

“My apartment!” Jack looked out at the police officers. He was no longer confused. “You get a tip this afternoon that they were there?” he asked.

“Our investigation led us there this afternoon.”

Jack thought for a moment, then asked, “You also find my tape recorder under the sofa?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact we did,” said Charlie, holding up another exhibit bag.

“So you admit that this stuff is yours?” CC asked.

“The recorder is mine, CC, not the rest of it. Did you rewind the tape and listen?”

“Haven’t had time yet. We will.”

“Do it now … please.”

CC rewound the tape and pushed “play.” Soon the tape played the sound of someone knocking on Jack’s apartment door, followed by a key in the lock. The sound of footsteps in the kitchen was heard, followed by a voice saying, “We’re alone.”

The sound of furniture being moved was interrupted by a voice saying, “Do you see what this pig listens to? What a fuckin’ pussy!”

Another voice said, “Shut up and pass me the screwdriver.” Moments later, the sound of furniture being moved again was followed by receding footsteps and the opening and closing of the apartment door.

“So?” said CC, flicking off the recorder. “What’s that all about?”

Jack looked at CC and said, “Keep playing.”

The next noise was Jack coming home, taking a shower, and then phoning several people to tell them he was getting married. CC could only hear Jack’s side of the conversation. The second-to-last call caught her interest. It was an incoming call, and she heard Jack say, “What is it, Sid?” Jack later repeated Sid Bishop’s address out loud. The last call was Jack calling Danny to say that Sid wanted to meet them both.

“If it actually was Sid who called you,” said CC, “what did he want to meet you about?”

“Some questions about the wiretap application. It was a ruse to kill us. Keep listening.”

The noise of Jack leaving his apartment was followed by his door being opened again.

Wizard’s voice commanded, “I’ll stand six. Put them in his bedroom someplace. Under the mattress will do.”

Booger’s voice was heard saying, “Have you seen these pictures, man? This guy you call The Suit is one sick fuckin’ dude!”

“I’ve seen ’em. Hurry up! The pigs could be here to look for ’em soon!”

CC clicked the tape recorder off and said, “Oh, my God, Jack, I’m so sorry.”

Jack didn’t hear her. He put his hands to his face and sobbed when he saw Natasha and Marcie running toward the car.

CC stood beside the car and watched as the three of them hugged, kissed, cried, and slowly regained their composure. The police officer who brought them up from the dock gave CC a quick summary of what had happened to them. Another officer called her on the radio, and she reached in through the open window and retrieved the microphone.

“Crane, here. Go ahead.”

“I’m at Emergency with O’Reilly. He regained consciousness and is being really difficult. Wants to know about Natasha and Marcie.”

“Tell him they’re both okay. So is Taggart.”

“Who cares about Taggart?”

“We were set up. Taggart is still one of the good guys. I’ll explain later. What is O’Reilly’s status?”

“Don’t know yet. He’s going in for x-rays and a CAT-scan. Looks like he’ll lose an eye.”

“Stay with him. Charlie will coordinate security.”

CC passed the microphone to Charlie and said, “Take care of it. The hospital and the Anderson farm until we straighten this mess out!”

Jack said, “CC, please lend me your cell. I’m going to call Susan and pick her up.”

“O’Reilly’s wife?”

Jack nodded.

“I need a statement from you. From what I hear, there are bodies strewn all over.”

“I’ll give you a statement tomorrow! I’m taking Natasha and Marcie with me right now! We’re going to get Susan!”

“Sorry, Jack. You know this can’t wait. I’ll wait until tomorrow for formal statements from Natasha and Marcie, but I need one from you now.”

“I think I’m in too much shock to remember. Give me a night to recover.”

“Come on, Jack! If you’re going to play that game, then you’re also in too much shock to be driving! I’ll put you in a hospital room under security until you’re out of shock!”

Natasha put her hand around Jack’s arm and said, “Jack, I need to take Marcie to the hospital. She is going into shock.”

Jack looked at Marcie and saw that she was shaking uncontrollably.

“Tell you what,” said CC. “I’ll have someone drive Natasha and Marcie to the hospital. Give me a few minutes, then I’ll go with you to pick up Susan. We can talk on the way.”

Jack looked at Natasha, who nodded her head in agreement. He kissed them both goodbye and stared after them as they drove out of sight.

“Here’s my cell,” said CC. “Call Susan. I’m going to take a quick look around and then we can pick her up.”

A few minutes later CC returned. Jack passed her phone back and said, “Susan insisted on driving herself. She’s on her way to the hospital. I want to be there, too.”

He could tell by the look on her face that something was troubling her. “Damn it, CC! Look what we’ve been through! Come with me to the hospital. I’ll give you a statement there!”

“Tell me what happened. Nutshell version.”

Jack quickly told her, then said, “Satisfied? Now let me get to the hospital. Someone can take formal statements from me there!”

“I will,” said CC, taking Jack by the arm and leading him slightly away from everyone else. “You might want to talk to O’Reilly. You know, to see how he’s doing.”

“What are you saying? Of course I want to see how he’s doing!”

“Listen to me. I’ve seen the bodies. Everything appears to make sense except for one.”

“Which one? I don’t understand.”

“A crispy critter behind the house. Looks like he tossed his weapon and lay down on the ground. Then he was soaked in petroleum and torched. O’Reilly might want a lawyer. Especially if it’s his bloody fingerprints all over the lighter we found.”

chapter forty

It was after midnight when Jack used a payphone at the hospital to call Lance.

“Where the fuck you been?” asked Lance. “Don’t you ever turn your cell on?”

“It got wet this afternoon. Doesn’t work. I’ll have a replacement tomorrow. Anything going on?”

“Anything going on! Christ! You call me at this time of night to ask me if anything is going on? You know fuckin’ well there is! Have you seen the news?”

“You mean the part where it said that five members of Satans Wrath were killed in a shootout when police raided a home in search of an abducted woman and a young girl?”

“Yeah, that part of it. I take it you were involved?”

“The news doesn’t quite have it correct at this point. The woman is my fiancée and the girl is a friend of mine. It was only Danny and I involved in the shootout.”

“Oh, fuck! Wiz and Rolly! They ambush ya?”

“At The Suit’s house. It was a crown prosecutor by the name of Sid Bishop.”

“Damn it! I’m sorry….”

“Glad you’re sorry.”

“Not for you, for me. It means I still owe ya five years.”

“Maybe not. He escaped. You find him before I do and the deal is still on.”

“All right! I hear ya! So you and Danny are okay? What about your woman and the girl?”

“Danny is in the hospital. He might lose an eye. The rest of us are okay.”

“Lose an eye? Well, I guess shit happens. He’ll be a twin for Halibut. Who else was killed? I figured it was Wiz and Rolly. They take two strikers with ’em? T-Bone and Booger?”

“They did. How do you know? The names haven’t been released yet.”

“We’ve been trying to do a head count and figure out who’s missing. It’s tough. Damien is going nuts. We got guys runnin’ around all over because of the election tomorrow. Over a dozen chapter presidents have already flown in. The rest are arriving in the morning.” Lance paused, then asked, “Who was the fifth?”

“Thumper.”

“Thumper! He’s not even with our chapter. He’s with the east side. You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“That dirty fucker! I bet he stuck his nose up Wiz’s ass because he thought Wiz was gonna win the election.”

“You can strike Wizard’s name off the ballot.”

“Then this happens in the middle of everything! It’s like someone drove a car into a yard full of hornets’ nests. Guys are talking revenge. Wait until they find out it was you and Danny! I bet Damien knows already.”

“What’s he saying?”

“Not much. Makes him look bad that he didn’t know what was going on and didn’t have control over his guys. I bet he loses the election now.”

“Who do you think will win?”

“Probably someone from back east. Damien wants me at his house at eight in the morning. I’ve never been invited there before.”

“Why does he want to see you?”

“Don’t know. All the presidents will be meeting him there at 2:15 tomorrow afternoon. The vote will be decided shortly after.”

“I’ll have a working cell by noon tomorrow. Call me when you can.”

“Yeah, I will if I’m alive.”

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

“If Damien figures I knew about the ambush, he won’t be pleased.”

“Want me to vouch for you?”

“Fuck you!” Lance chuckled.

“Call me tomorrow.”

Jack returned to the hospital room where Danny was sleeping. Susan was standing beside the bed while Natasha held Tiffany and sat in a chair beside Marcie. Jack put his arm around Susan’s shoulder and said, “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Susan nodded. “The nurse said she’d put a cot in the room. I want to make sure I’m here when he wakes up and before they operate again. Appreciate you looking after Tif for me.”

Jack looked over at Natasha and Tiffany. “She’s in good hands. Don’t worry about her. I’ve taken the booster seat out of your car.”

“I’m not worried about her,” replied Susan. She then glanced at a heavily armed member of the Emergency Response Team who was standing outside the room. “I understand why that guy is here, but what about the one hanging around from Homicide? Why is it so important for him to be here?”

“People died today. They need to talk to Danny and make sure he didn’t break any rules.”

“And did he?” Susan studied his face for the truth.

Jack paused, then said, “No. I talked to him earlier. He obeyed them completely.”

Susan stared a moment longer, then walked across the room and gave Tiffany a kiss on her forehead before saying goodnight to Natasha and Marcie.

“Susan … I’m sorry,” said Jack.

“Yeah. I know. You better get going. Your sister will be waiting.”

Jack saw that the city lights were behind them and glanced in the rear-view mirror. Marcie was leaning against the booster seat. Both she and Tiffany appeared to be sleeping.

“There’s something I need to know,” he whispered to Natasha. “I’ll understand if you need time, but…”

“You mean, do I still want to marry you?”

“Yes. After today, I…” Jack let the words trail off. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Natasha’s eyes brimmed with tears. “I was petrified. It was all because of you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I would never have put you in that position if I’d known.”

“I’m not talking about that! I’m talking about us! I was petrified that I might never see you again! Today made me realize how fragile life is and how much the future means to me. You are my future. I’m going to cherish every day of it.”

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. I felt exactly the same way.”

“Speakin’ of that,” said Marcie, leaning forward from the back seat, “bein’ as I’m the bridesmaid, when are you getting married?”

“After today … soon!” said Jack and Natasha in unison.

Natasha leaned over in the seat, wrapping her hands around Jack’s arm, and said, “Besides, I think I need to keep you around for protection.”

“You need protection?” said Jack, rather incredulously. “I heard you took out Thumper with only a scalpel. How did you manage that? I couldn’t have beaten him if he was handcuffed and I had a gun!”

Natasha paused, then said, “Oh, I just waited until the right moment when he wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah,” said Marcie. “She sort of caught him with his pants down.”

Jack stopped the car at a checkpoint set up at the entrance to Ben and Liz’s driveway. The officer radioed others outside the house and they were allowed to proceed. The light bulb over the porch had already been unscrewed to prevent anyone from accidentally turning it on. Light escaped from the edges of the shades and drapes that were drawn and Jack glimpsed Ben unlock the door as they made their way across the porch. Seconds later they were inside.

The only one who wasn’t hugged and kissed and didn’t cry was Tiffany. When they finished their greetings they sat in the living room.

“Any change with Danny?” asked Liz.

The sound of geese honking outside brought their conversation to a stop. Ben looked at Natasha and said, “That’s Andrew and Martha, our two geese.” He looked at Jack and said, “They’ll honk all night if those officers keep moving around. I better put them in the barn.”

“I’ll help you,” said Jack.

Several minutes later, Jack watched as Ben herded Andrew and Martha into a pen in the barn. Ben latched the door and asked, “How long do we have to put up with this? I have a business to run. We can’t leave but we sure as hell can’t live with these guys hanging around outside. Now I know how the prime minister must feel.”

“Sorry, Ben. I’ll straighten that out tomorrow. I promise.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Why then?”

“I’m going to a meeting. Don’t worry. You, Liz, Marcie … everyone will be okay.”

“This meeting will straighten things out?”

“I expect so.”

“That’s a relief. Don’t get me wrong. We’re grateful. It’s just … we want it to be over. When you told us the two guys who murdered Maggie and Ben Junior were dead … Liz and I felt like our life was going to … well, it will never be normal, but at least it gave us some satisfaction. Then you said the main guy escaped … now we don’t know what to feel.”

“I will catch him, Ben. I promise you that!”

“Yeah, I know. That’s what I told Liz. You live up to your promises. Damn it, I haven’t even congratulated you and Natasha for getting engaged.”

“Thanks.”

Ben stared at Jack for a moment, then hugged him and said, “Thanks. Thanks for killing those bastards. I know you’ll get this other guy, too.”

Jack thought about his promise to Natasha, and then he thought about tomorrow. Damien was in for a surprise.

chapter forty-one

“Your men had quite a day, yesterday,” said Isaac, once Louie Grazia sat down.

“It would appear so.”

“I read a statement that Homicide took this morning from O’Reilly. Take a look. Tell me what you think.”

Louie read the statement, then said, “I think he should receive a medal. Both of them should.”

“You read the part about how he killed the one they called Wizard?”

“Yes. After being seriously injured and barely able to see, he captured him in the backyard. Made him toss the weapon and lay in the prone position. He was so weak he had to sit down to cover him. Said he started to lose consciousness and woke up in time to see Wizard with a lighter in his hand about to shove a pail of gas on him.”

“That’s the part that really got to me. As injured as he was, he still chased this guy down and tried to arrest him. If he hadn’t had the quick reflexes to kick the pail over, it would have been him that burned to death. Says he even caught the lighter that Wizard threw. Lucky for him the gas went in the other direction. I agree, commendations are in order.”

“Good. They’ll be pleased to hear it.”

“There is one other matter, however, that I wish to discuss with you.”

“Sir?”

“It’s about Taggart. The informant he had by the name of Edward Trimble died of a drug overdose over two years ago. How do you suppose that could be?”

“Typical of drug addicts. One of them dies in some flophouse and someone else who is probably wanted snatches his identification. I’ll speak to Taggart and tell him to smarten up. He should know better than to be fooled like that.”

“I see. Well, considering what he’s been through, I don’t think you should be too hard on him. Maybe give him a break on that one.”

“Yes, sir. If you think so.”

Isaac leaned back in his chair and gazed out the window but watched Louie out of the corner of his eye. “In some ways, Wigmore was right about Taggart.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, people he works on end up dead, including the two who murdered his niece and nephew.”

Louie shrugged his shoulders but didn’t speak.

“Have you had a chance to debrief Taggart? How does he feel about Sid Bishop?”

“He’s upset that he escaped. That he wasn’t able to arrest him.”

“Arrest him?”

Louie pretended that the connotation eluded him and said, “U.S. Customs found his boat on Orcas Island in the San Juans this morning, but there was no sign of him. From there, he could have easily flown to the mainland and then anywhere.”

“Do you think Taggart has any idea where he is?”

“Not a clue. He asked me if we’ve checked Bishop’s bank accounts yet.”

“And have you?”

“Preliminary inquiries look like there were some off-shore transfers to the Grand Caymans. He’ll know how to cover his tracks. Bet he is living under a new identity in some foreign country. Satans Wrath could help him in that regard. It wouldn’t look good for them if he was arrested. They’re in dozens of countries. I’m not optimistic that he’ll ever be caught.”

Jack’s meeting with CC was brief. He had already prepared a statement and slid it across the desk to her.

CC scanned the statement quickly, then leaned across the desk and said, “I want you and O’Reilly to know something. Strictly for professional reasons. I want you to have at least a little respect for me.”

“CC, don’t worry. Sid set me up beautifully. I have no grudge against you at all.”

“This isn’t about that. It’s what O’Reilly did! Tell him he owes me a hell of a favour.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Bullshit! I’ve taken enough statements to know when someone’s been coached! Not to mention that the burn marks on Wizard did not start under his arm and on his face, where they would have if he was throwing gas at Danny. They started on the back of his arm and head. He wasn’t looking when he got doused.”

“Danny was badly injured, barely conscious. Maybe he was a little off on —”

“Cut the crap! This is only between the three of us. I just want you to know that I do know how to do my job.”

Jack stared at CC for a moment, then said, “I’ll tell Danny. He’ll probably want to buy you a drink.”

“Tell him that, but if it arrives with a flame on top, I’ll shoot him!”

Jack returned CC’s smile, then said, “I need a favour as well.”

“What kind of favour?”

“It’s about the exhibits from yesterday.”

“Your recorder?”

“No. Something else. Something that might keep some people from dying.”

Jack lay in the bushes, resting his arms and chest on a sports bag as he watched several limousines pass through the electronic gate into Damien’s estate. He caught a glimpse of bikers roaming around inside. Some were there to provide security and showed their respect for the bosses by keeping their distance.

At two o’clock, Jack used his new cellphone to call Natasha.

“I want you to know that I really love you,” he said.

“That’s nice. I love you, too,” replied Natasha. “Good news about Danny.”

“Yes. Good news. I have to go, but…”

“But what?”

“Just wanted you to know how much I really love you.”

“Jack? What is it? Something is going on…. You’re not doing anything that could put you … away, are you?”

“Don’t talk that way on the phone. I would die before I ever broke that promise.”

“Okay, sorry. I love you, too.”

Jack picked up the sports bag and crept to the rear of Damien’s home. He scaled the stone wall surrounding the back of Damien’s property and dropped down into the grounds.

A biker who had been monitoring security cameras inside the home ran into the backyard. Damien was speaking intensely to a group of over twenty men. Anger and talk of revenge was rampant. Silence descended when the biker told Damien that there was an intruder.

Jack strode toward the group. He saw two laser beams dancing over his heart and idly wondered how many more were on the back of his head. The group parted slightly as Damien walked up to him. The rest of the men exchanged glances. They sensed that Jack was an outsider and circled him like wolves around a farm dog.

“You got your fuckin’ balls walkin’ in here!” screamed Damien.

Jack looked at the group and said, “My name is Jack Taggart. I’m a cop. The cop who was responsible for killing five of your brothers yesterday.”

He took their moment of disbelief and shock to look Damien in the eye and say, “Out of respect for you, I brought you this.” He handed him the sports bag.

The wolves recovered from their shock and moved in for the kill. They stopped when Damien put up his hand before unzipping the sports bag and looking inside. Seconds later, he pulled out five sets of colours. The jackets belonging to T-Bone and Booger only had the bottom rocker. Wizard’s colours were badly burned but were still recognizable.

“You pick today to commit suicide?” asked Damien.

Jack looked at the angry faces and said, “Wizard, Rolly, and Thumper tried to kill my family, my partner’s family … and then tried to kill my partner and me. Maybe the rules have changed, but I think —”

A biker grabbed Jack by the throat and said, “Guess I’ll finish what Wiz started!”

“Let him finish!” Damien demanded.

Jack was released. He continued. “I think that T-Bone and Booger were following orders from Wizard. I also believe that Wizard was following orders from someone outside the club.” He saw several of the men look at Damien, who continued to stare at Jack.

“I believe that because I know Damien,” said Jack. “If he wanted us dead, we would be. He’s proved that to me already, which is why I respect him enough to return the colours and take whatever you dish out. I know if Damien wants me killed, I will be. I don’t want to try and lead a life and start a family, wondering every day if there’s a bomb in my car. If you intend to kill me, then do it now.”

Everyone stood in silence, looking back and forth from Damien to Jack. Damien nodded his head, and one of the bikers providing security approached and used an electronic wand to search Jack.

“Clean, except for this,” said the biker, taking the cellphone out of Jack’s pocket and handing it to Damien.

“Check the perimeter for a five-block radius and let me know,” said Damien, before dropping the cellphone in the pool. “Oops,” he said.

Minutes later, Jack was roughly brought into the house and hauled down into the basement, where he was placed on a stool beside a workbench. Five strikers stayed to ensure that he didn’t move. Jack spotted the electric drill on the workbench and thought about Stallion. What goes around, comes around. He checked his watch. It was 2:30.

At 4:25, Damien came downstairs, along with two other bikers. He gave a nod of his head and the five guards backed away.

“So you did come alone,” commented Damien.

Jack nodded.

“Yesterday … tell us how they died.”

Jack related what happened at the front of Sid’s home and in the foyer.

“How did dat Wizard die?” asked one of the bikers with a thick French accent.

Jack looked him in the eye and said, “The official version is that he caught fire on his way back to torch me.”

The two bikers looked at Damien. He gestured with his head and the three of them walked away a short distance to talk privately. Moments later, they returned.

“What about Thumper?” asked Damien.

“My girlfriend slashed his throat with a scalpel.”

“No shit?” said Damien, sounding surprised.

Jack said, “Yes, she’s quite a woman.” For a second, he almost forgot where he was as he thought about Natasha.

“If Booger had given himself up, would you have let him live?” asked Frenchie.

“I knew he was a striker who probably didn’t know the rules, but at the same time I didn’t know if my fiancée and the girl had been hurt. Either way, he messed with them. If given the opportunity, I would have finished him off.”

The two bikers glared at him, then looked at Damien, who said, “Yeah, that’s pretty well how Sid Bishop told it.”

The comment was not lost on Jack. He knows where Bishop is!

Damien looked down at Jack and said, “Okay, sit here. It’s not us three who decide if you live. We’re all taking a vote on it. Get you a beer while you’re waiting?”

“No, thanks.”

As they were leaving, Frenchie asked Damien, “You offer dat pig a beer?”

“This is strictly business. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be hospitable.”

Jack remained on the stool as the strikers moved back into position.

It was three hours later when Damien returned, this time by himself. “Leave us!” he barked. The five strikers promptly went upstairs.

“Looks like it’s your lucky day,” said Damien. “You’re going to live.”

“It took long enough to decide.”

Damien shrugged his shoulders and said, “We had an election to do as well. What saved you was that Wizard took orders from someone outside the club.”

“I thought returning the colours was a nice touch.”

“That showed class, but it will only be T-Bone and Booger’s colours that will be kept and held in respect.”

“Are you still national president?”

Damien smiled and said, “Yeah, I got it. I think you turned the tide on that one. They figure that if you acted that way out of respect for me, then maybe I was doing a good job.”

“Sounds like you owe me one.”

“I don’t owe you fuck all! I reiterated what you said, that Wizard and Rolly took their orders from someone outside the club. Thumper was a weasel. It gave everyone something to think about. If anything, my two cents’ worth may have saved your life.”

“How close a vote was it? On letting me live?”

“It was unanimous. Everybody out there is clear on the rules. Wizard, Rolly, Thumper … they broke the rules.”

“That’s good they respect the rules. Too bad Sid Bishop doesn’t.”

“The trouble with guys like him is they’ve never been educated on the street. They don’t know how to survive.”

“So where is he?”

“Fuck, you think I’m going to tell you? Give your head a shake!”

“You were the boss when all this took place, and you are still the boss. That makes you accountable. He messed with the people I love. You can’t ride the fence on this.”

“You don’t fucking tell me what I can do or what I can’t!”

“Then as far as I’m concerned, if you don’t tell me, you are breaking the rules, and I’ll hold you responsible.”

Damien stabbed his finger into Jack’s chest and roared, “You have the gall to threaten me? Right here in my own house?”

Strikers immediately appeared on the stairs and Damien yelled, “I didn’t call you guys! Fuck off!”

Jack waited until they were alone and said, “I’m not threatening you. Just reminding you about the rules.”

Damien studied Jack closely, then shook his head and said, “Our rules say that we never help the police. You arrest him and I’d lose respect. Think you know what that means. Unlike you, I don’t believe in putting myself or my family in jeopardy.”

“My family is top priority to me, too.”

“Then get your priorities straight! Walking in here this afternoon … you let your emotions rule you instead of your brain. Leave now and count yourself very lucky!”

“I want to know where Sid Bishop is!”

“You don’t listen, do you? I will never help the police!”

“Who said anything about helping the police? I’m talking about me.”

Damien looked exasperated. “You are the police.”

“Do you remember the night you met me in that construction site, when you said that you and I were in different clubs, but in some ways we were very much alike?”

“I remember.”

“I was wrong to think we weren’t. You’ve opened my eyes. Neither of us would be alive if we went by the rules that govern the rest of society.”

“What are you getting at?”

“It makes me sick, but I’m admitting that you probably know me better than anyone else. You know I don’t plan on arresting him!”

Damien looked at Jack for a moment, then said, “Still no reason to help you.”

“I’m in a good position to return you a favour someday.”

Damien paused, then said, “So you’ll be Sid’s replacement?”

“Not exactly. Call it rules of honour and respect. If we play by our rules, both you and I, and our families, should be around for a long time. It’s wise to invest in the future.”

Damien stared at Jack long and hard, then said, “You would owe me. Owe me big!”

chapter forty-two

“Buenas noches!” said Natasha, unconsciously feeling her wedding ring as she walked out on the balcony. The Mexican sun was touching the top of the Pacific Ocean, and the afternoon breeze was starting its daily venture from the water to the mountains behind them.

Jack was peering through binoculars but put them down before kissing Natasha warmly on her neck. “Thought you were going to take a shower,” he murmured, before kissing her again.

“Came out to see if you would be kind enough to soap my back.”

Jack chuckled, then said, “With pure, unadulterated pleasure.”

Natasha gestured to the binoculars and said, “When you said you were bringing the binos to look for whales, I had no idea that you would abandon me to do it. You need to get your priorities straight!”

“Priorities? Who … where did you get that from?”

“What do you mean?”

Jack paused, then said, “Nothing, just sounded like something someone else said to me.”

“A woman?”

Jack chuckled. “No. Definitely not. After being your love slave all week, I needed a few moments to regain my strength.”

Natasha smiled and said, “You are so bad.” She looked down the mountain toward the ocean. Below the mountain in front of her were several homes with swimming pools. The homes were built in traditional Spanish style, with red tile roofs and surrounded by white plaster walls that cut through groves of palm trees. Beyond that, she could see the brilliant white crests of the ocean waves breaking out from the deep blue waters.

“It is so beautiful,” she said. She waved to a Mexican family who were heading down to the ocean with small circular fishing nets to throw in the waves. They waved back.

Jack had said that the area was virtually untouched by tourists. He was right. The local populace had not become contaminated by outside influences. Everyone was friendly, but at the same time, privacy was respected. She could not have wished for a better place for the first week of their honeymoon.

Tomorrow they were to continue the second leg of their honeymoon to a more popular and festive resort in Costa Rica. She wished their honeymoon could go on forever.

“I’m glad we came here first,” said Natasha, wrapping her arms around Jack. “It’s so quiet and peaceful. Have you enjoyed it? Do you feel relaxed yet?” she asked, looking deep into his eyes.

“What makes you think I haven’t been relaxed? Being with you makes me the happiest guy in the world!”

“You’ve seemed a little distant all week. Like something is bothering you.”

Jack pulled her close and said, “Someone once told me I let my emotions rule me instead of my brain. Maybe he was right. All week my emotions have been telling me that I could face anything this world could throw at me — as long as we’re together. I don’t think emotions are such a bad thing.”

“Good. I feel the same way.” She kissed Jack warmly on the lips, then giggled and said, “Okay, love slave, your work is not done! Get back inside!”

The morning sun had barely started to lighten the eastern edge of the mountains when Jack quietly slipped out of the villa and made his way down the mountain. At 6:05 he waited outside the rear wall surrounding one of the homes. He stood behind some trees and listened intently, waiting for a sound from within. His concentration precluded him from noticing the light reflect off a pair of binoculars focusing in on him.

People are creatures of habit. Sid Bishop was no different. At six-thirty Jack heard the splash as Sid jumped in his pool to start his morning laps.

He crept over the wall and crouched behind some bird of paradise bushes that obscured the area near the shallow end of the pool. He watched as Sid swam toward him before stepping out to the edge of the pool.

Sid came to an abrupt stop, standing with his head and shoulders out of the water. He wiped his eyes with his fingers and said, “Who are…” He didn’t finish the sentence when he recognized Jack glaring down at him.

“Taggart!” Sid blurted. His eyes and mouth opened wide as he looked around in fright. He tried to yell but his words became bubbles in the water as Jack tackled him.

Sid kicked with his feet and jerked his knees while trying to pull at the hands around his throat. He gulped in water but managed to twist out of Jack’s grasp and grabbed the side of the pool to climb out.

Jack lunged on him again, grabbing the back of his head and smashing his face in a frenzy against the concrete edge of the pool. Sid’s nose broke and he gurgled and tried to scream as broken teeth cut his lips and tongue. His scream was cut short when his head was submerged once more. He tasted blood and felt splinters of teeth in his mouth as his lungs craved for air before giving in and gulping down more water.

Jack stared down at Sid’s eyes in the water. He tried to think of Maggie and Ben Junior as he watched Sid struggle in a futile attempt to reach the surface. The image of the children’s faces was hard to hold on to. A memory of Natasha kept appearing … facing him on the suspension bridge while he gave his promise…

Sid started to vomit as Jack brought his head to the surface.

Jack wanted to scream out at the world in rage. Rage over the grief that this man had caused … and frustration that even with his death, this man could affect his future with Natasha. He eased his grip and saw the colour return to Sid’s face.

Sid read the hesitation in Jack’s face and became emboldened. “You will die for this,” he spluttered. “I will see to that!”

“Wrong thing to say,” said Jack, jerking him by the throat back into the pool. Sid grabbed at his arms and twisted his body like an eel, but Jack held on firm. He stared into Sid’s wide eyes and watched as frothy red bubbles parted his lips. He waited until Sid went limp before pulling him out of the water and laying his body along the edge of the pool.

A shadow appeared over Sid’s body and Jack spun around.

“Natasha! How…?”

She bent down to check Sid’s pulse and said, “I don’t know much about whales, but I do know you don’t spy in people’s swimming pools for them.” She looked up at Jack and said, “He’s still got a pulse. What had you planned on doing with him?”

“I was going to kill him, but then I started thinking…”

“About what?”

“Priorities … my promise to you … letting emotion rule my brain…”

“You’ll never … correction, we’ll never be happy as long as this bastard is alive. Besides, the promise was not to do anything that would land you in jail. This won’t.” Natasha then rolled Sid face down into the pool.

Jack was dumbfounded. “What?” was all he said.

“As a medical practitioner, I would surmise that this man slipped on the edge of the pool, hit his face, then fell unconscious into the water and drowned. As a policeman, what would you say?”

Jack blinked, then looked at Natasha and replied, “I would say that I love you more than life itself.”

“Correct answer, officer.”

chapter one

Holly saw the flash of headlights in the carport and knew that Jack had arrived home. She checked the pot of simmering tomato sauce and turned up the heat. Their daughter, Jenny, at four years of age, was snuggled deep into a corner of the sofa watching television. Charlie, who’d recently had his first birthday, sat on the kitchen floor entertaining himself with an empty pasta box. Spaghetti was what Holly thought her family was going to eat tonight.

“Jenny! Go wash your hands for dinner, sweetie. Daddy is home.”

Jenny was too absorbed in The Simpsons to pay attention.

Holly turned back to the stove, where the pasta sauce was beginning to boil. She felt Charlie’s hug on her leg as she stirred. “Charlie! Daddy’s home! Go see Daddy! Go on!”

Charlie knew the routine, and Holly smiled as he squealed with delight and hurried, taking a few awkward steps before landing on his diapered backside, then scrambling to his feet and disappearing around the corner and down the hall to the door.

Holly caught a glimpse of the cracked window over her kitchen sink. Not much longer. They had lived in the modest rented home for the last four years while her husband went to the University of British Columbia to earn his degree in computer science. Only one more month to graduation! No longer a dim light at the end of a tunnel — it’s a shining star!

The dark green van with tinted rear windows did not draw any attention where it was parked on the street. Apartment buildings and low-rental housing made it a neighbourhood where unfamiliar vehicles were the norm.

Ray sat alone in the back of the van and waited. This was not the type of work he felt he should be doing. He had received his masters in business administration at Cambridge, but right now their resources in Canada were limited. Only twenty-one people, counting himself, for the entire lower mainland. Not much of an army ... but that would change.

Ray knew that The Boss was right about one thing. Corporate takeovers are easier when they are unexpected. First they must ensure that their own position is fortified before domination can begin. He was also confident in his research. British Columbia was the best place in the world for his type of corporation. The judiciary was so lenient that, for the most part, judges wouldn’t even need to be bought. The power and wealth they had elsewhere made local crime groups look like petty thieves. It was time to quietly establish a new power in Canada.

Ray watched as a car slowed, then stopped at a driveway. He squeezed the transmit button on his portable radio and quietly gave the orders. Ray saw his target get out of the car and move the garbage can that had been placed to block his driveway. The target then returned to his car and slowly drove into the carport.

Ray saw the two Suzuki motorcycles zoom past him before braking hard and parking near the garbage can. One passenger got off each motorcycle and headed toward the carport while the drivers stayed and revved their engines.

“Jolly good,” said Ray aloud, as he made his way back to the driver’s seat.

“Where’s my boy? Where’s that Charlie?”

Charlie let out a long, high-pitched yell as he hurried toward his dad, then gasped when he was swept off the ground. Charlie giggled when he felt his dad nestle into his neck and pretend to blow bubbles.

Charlie was too young to grasp the danger when two men appeared in the open door behind his dad wearing motorcycle helmets with dark shields covering their faces. His father also did not understand when he turned around, still holding Charlie in his arms. But he saw the gun in each man’s hand and started to close the door. He was too late.

One assassin calmly fired a shot that passed through Charlie and into his dad’s heart. Jack’s brain was momentarily still alive and he spun around to try to protect Charlie. He took one step before collapsing on the floor with Charlie under him.

The noise of the gun, equipped with a silencer, was drowned out by the television. The television did not, however, drown out a piercing cry from Charlie.

Both Holly and Jenny arrived on the run from different directions. Holly looked in horror, and upon seeing the two men she instinctively grabbed Jenny. One of the assassins stepped forward and fired another shot into the back of Jack’s head before taking the time to stare at Holly and Jenny from behind his visor. The assassins did not know that their intended victim was already in a graveyard.

Constable Danny O’Reilly hurried to keep up with Corporal Jack Taggart. Being tall and lean, Jack tended to take larger strides. His metabolism was also high, and the strides were not only longer but also faster. Danny found himself in a position where jogging was too fast and walking fast was too slow.

“Damn it, slow down, will you?”

“We’re late,” replied Jack, quickening his pace.

“Only a few minutes. Lance has kept us waiting before.”

“Our friend has kept us waiting before.”

Danny sighed, then said, “Yeah, sorry. Our friend.”

As they continued, Danny noticed the inscriptions on the tombstones they passed and the ages of some of the people. He thought of his own life, the past eleven years of which he had been a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Last year he had been transferred from Manitoba to work on the Intelligence Unit in Vancouver.

That was when he had met Jack Taggart, a man who was both his partner and his boss. He was also his best friend. Working with Jack was not easy. During his first shift with Jack, Danny had been attacked from behind by a junkie with a knife. Later, both he and his family had been targeted for assassination by a splinter group of bikers from Satans Wrath. This group had been led by a corrupt Crown prosecutor by the name of Sidney Bishop.

When the first assassination attempt had failed, Bishop had ordered the bikers to set up an ambush. The bikers were subsequently killed in a shootout, but Bishop fled the country. Danny ended up with a 40 percent loss of vision in one eye as a result of bullet fragments from the skirmish. He looked at one tombstone and did a double take before realizing the name he saw was O’Brien. He gave a wry smile. Not even close to O’Reilly!

His thoughts brought him back to his family. His daughter, Tiffany, was now fourteen months old. The latest arrival to their family, James Patrick O’Reilly, was two months old. Susan was a great mom. An even greater wife. Working with Jack does make you appreciate life ... as long as you’re still alive to appreciate it.

Danny glanced at Jack. He’s been with me through a lot of scrapes. Then again, he’s also the asshole who got me into them!

Jack was a specialist as an undercover operator and had received special police schooling for the task. At the moment, Jack was clean-shaven. Although Danny was now sporting a goatee, he was not a trained operator. His job was usually to remain in the background and try to keep Jack alive when things went wrong — or to identify the right culprits if Jack was killed. Not an easy task.

Satans Wrath was one of the top organized crime families in the world. Things had changed since the seventies. Long past were the days when they were just a bunch of thugs on wheels. Control of the drug industry brought immense wealth and sophistication to the bikers. The club expanded into twenty-one different countries. Now it was one of the most dangerous and insulated organized crime families in the world. Partly, Satans Wrath could thank the police. Years of police work and international cooperation had decimated much of the mafia, and Satans Wrath had been more than willing to step in and take over.

In Vancouver, police intelligence units estimated that Satans Wrath had ninety-two members split between the east-side and west-side chapters. There was a president in charge of each chapter. The national president of the club, Damien, also lived in Vancouver.

With approximately ten hard-core criminal associates connected with each member, in Vancouver alone Damien was in control of an army of approximately one thousand. Across Canada, there were twenty-one other chapters, all with their own armies — and no shortage of recruits.

Satan’s Wrath was actively seeking recruits at the moment. Competition was deadly. The Indos were of particular concern to Satans Wrath, followed by Asian gangs. At the moment, the Indos were still fighting amongst themselves to gain a share of the drug market, but it would be only a matter of time before the pecking order was established and the Indos turned their attention to Satans Wrath.

It was Satans Wrath that Jack and Danny focused their attention on, and Lance was the key to their success. Satans Wrath was importing tonnes of cocaine from a vicious drug lord in Columbia by the name of Carlos. Lance had let Jack and Danny know about the intended arrival of the last ship, with a cargo that included one metric tonne of cocaine. To divert suspicion from Lance, Jack had tipped off a friend in the American Drug Enforcement Agency, who had then seized the ship before it ever reached Canada.

Lance, along with two others, had tried to kill Jack once, believing that he was a police informant. Jack had escaped with Danny’s help. Danny grimaced when he thought of how close Jack had come to dying. That was one of the first lessons he had learned from Jack about seeing the big picture.

Danny would have arrested those involved. Jack had another idea. He knew that Lance was a family man with four children and a lot to lose. He used this as leverage to convince Lance to become their informant. Having an informant in Satans Wrath was almost unheard of.

Unfortunately, the same was not true in reverse. Satans Wrath routinely developed informants of their own. In short, Lance was in an extremely precarious situation and Jack insisted that Lance’s real name never be used. He was simply referred to as our friend. It also left Jack and Danny in a position where morality had to be carefully weighed and sorted out. It was a task that Danny found difficult. How much evil do you allow on the prospect of stopping a larger evil? There was something else that had bothered Danny since he had begun to work with Jack. The law and morality may not coincide when your own family is threatened.

Danny thought back to the ambush attempt on their lives and the biker who had threatened his family. It was someone he could have arrested ... but didn’t. Danny was lucky. Lucky to have survived the ambush and lucky that Connie Crane in the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team purposely ignored evidence indicating exactly how the biker had died.

Danny had become a changed man since working with Jack. His understanding of right and wrong was now a tangled mess. Jack had brought him into a world where the rules were different and the laws of society were held in contempt. A world where the strong murder the weak. To survive, you have to be strong. If you’re not strong, you die ... or someone you love dies. Jack had survived for a long time. Danny hoped he would too.

Lance nodded as they approached, then said, “Got some news for ya that ought to make ya happy. Our chapter had our elections. I made it. You’re now lookin’ at the new president of the west-side chapter.”

“Excellent,” said Jack, giving him a thumbs-up. “Way to go. Next thing you know you’ll be national president.”

“Not a chance,” chuckled Lance. “I know my limitations. Damien is a lot smarter than I am. I don’t know anybody that could replace him and do as good a job, including the guys back east.”

“How did it go with us taking down the labs today? Any heat?”

“No heat, but you screwed up. You missed two of ’em.”

“We tried. I think they were tipped.”

“Warned ya. Told ya you had a narc talkin’ to the club.”

“Would be nice if you found out who. We had over sixty cops involved.”

“You two go to all seven places yourselves?”

“No, Danny and I just coordinated and sat back. My name is on all the search warrants for providing the information, but we try to keep out of court as much as possible.”

“Heard on the news you arrested thirteen. Word is you got Petro.”

“He received the money. Case on him is weak but we charged him anyway.”

“Serves him right. He should have stuck to arson. That’s his specialty.”

“Explains the nickname. We also nailed a striker. He collected the coin from the labs and gave it to Petro.”

“Silent Sam?”

“Yes. Charges on him should stick.”

Lance nodded.

“You’ve been doing well,” continued Jack. “Still no problems with that ship being taken down in San Diego?”

“Not a bit. Your buddy in the DEA did it right. What with all the security for terrorism these days, everybody figures the cops in the U.S. just got lucky.”

“I told you he would protect you. I wouldn’t have used him if I didn’t trust him.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you were right.”

“You told us that Damien fronted half the money for that shipment — $3 million U.S. He must be a little agitated.”

“He did get a lot of heat from the club until Carlos said he would eat the loss. Carlos says the money has been applied to the second shipment. Everyone is okay with Damien now.”

“A metric tonne of cocaine is a lot to eat,” added Jack.

Lance shrugged. “Not for Carlos. He runs one of the biggest cartels Colombia has. He’s sending two more ships our way. Our deposit was just applied to the second ship. We pay the other half when it gets here. Then we get a couple of weeks to pay another $3 mil for the third ship and the rest on delivery. This time the ships are coming direct to Vancouver. A place where we got some control of the docks. Might be a bit dicier for me then, as I’ll be in charge of the initial warehousing.”

“We’ll look after you. I’d let the coke go rather than burn you.”

“Yeah, I know that. I trust ya.”

“I want to nail Damien, though.”

“Forget it. He won’t be anywhere near the action.”

“I don’t care!” said Jack, trying to control his anger. “He’s still pulling the strings.”

The tone of Jack’s voice did not go unnoticed by either Lance or Danny.

Lance frowned and said, “A lot is happening in the club now. Damien seems more obsessed with what the Indos are up to. Now that I’m prez, I’ll be in the know a lot more.”

“It’s great what took place today,” said Danny. “You did good!”

“That you did,” added Jack. “I’m pleased. A tonne of coke three weeks ago and five labs today. We make one hell of a good team.”

“Don’t know if being drafted makes me a good team member or not. I’ll just be glad when I’ve paid my dues and am finished with all this.”

“You figure out a way for us to take down these other two ships and I’ll say we’re even. Might even buy you a gold watch as a retirement gift.”

“Forget it! Not if it’s got ‘For loyal service to the RCMP’ stamped on the back of it! Besides, as I said, I’ll be in the middle of things. I’d rather follow through on our agreement and work for you for another four and a half years.” Lance gestured to the tombstones and added, “That would be better than retiring early and ending up in here.”

Jack’s cellphone vibrated and he answered it. It was Connie Crane. Connie had once worked for the Homicide Section in the Major Crimes Unit. Now the homicide sections from the B.C. lower mainland, with the exception of Vancouver and Delta, had combined into what was known as the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team, or I-HIT, as it was commonly called.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of a call from IHIT?” asked Jack. He heard Connie’s sigh.

“Just called to let you know that I think there was a consequence to you taking down all those biker labs today,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“You were just murdered!”

“What are you talking about?” Jack let out a chuckle and added, “I might have one foot on a grave right now, but I assure you, any rumours of my death are premature.”

“I’m at a homicide in Surrey. Looks like two professional hitters. Silencers used along with motorcycles for their escape. Shot a guy through the heart and then through the head. Also wounded his infant son, who is in critical condition at B.C. Children’s right now.”

“What’s it got to do with me?”

“The victim’s name was Jack Taggart.”

Jack gave Lance a hard stare as he continued to talk. “Maybe it’s a coincidence. Surrey, the guy is probably a —”

“He looks as pure as bottled water. No record. Not even a speeding ticket. Was about to graduate from UBC. Left a wife and two kids. If the little one survives, that is.”

“He was just a student?”

“Older than most. He held a management position with a company five years ago but it dissolved with the economic times. He then went to university to better himself. They were struggling but they both held down part-time jobs and saw it through.”

“What are the mom’s and kids’ names?”

“Holly is the mom. She has a toddler by the name of Jennifer and the baby is named Charlie.”

“Not related to me.”

“Holly said she hadn’t intended to get pregnant with Charlie, as it added to their money worries, but from what I can tell they were still thrilled with Charlie’s arrival.”

Jack didn’t respond as he stared at Lance’s face, waiting for any sign that he knew about the hit.

“Jack? You still there?”

“I’m here, CC.”

“Taking down five labs today — can’t see that being a coincidence. Your name was on all the search warrants.”

Jack watched Lance closely as he spoke into the phone and said, “If Satans Wrath tried to kill me today...” He saw the surprised look on Lance’s face and added, “Hold on.” He walked away so that he could talk in private. “I can’t see Satans Wrath screwing up like this,” he continued. “They know what I look like! It’s either amateurs or just a coincidence.”

“These weren’t amateurs. They were too calm. They’ve done this before. Two guys, each with small-calibre pistols equipped with silencers. Both wearing motorcycle helmets with face visors. Two accomplices were waiting on motorcycles out front. The dad was holding his toddler. They shot through him to get the dad, then took their time and put one in his skull right in front of his wife and four-year-old daughter.”

“But the bikers know me,” was all Jack could think to say, as he looked over at Lance, our supposed inside man at Satans Wrath!

“If it’s not Satans Wrath, it has to be somebody you know! Who is it, Jack?”

“I don’t know.”

“Bullshit! I know you. What have you done?”

chapter two

What have I done! The words echoed in Jack’s head as he walked back to where Danny and Lance were standing. He told Danny what CC had told him, while staring at Lance for his reaction. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Jesus Christ! It wasn’t us! I’d have known!”

Neither Jack nor Danny replied.

“Maybe some stupid fuckers connected to the lower end of the labs. We’ll whack ’em ourselves if it was.”

“I believe you,” said Jack. “Do some digging. If it was meant for me, find out who is behind it!”

“Maybe Bishop is behind it,” offered Lance. “I know he left the country, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t come back or isn’t pulling the strings from someplace else.”

“It’s not Bishop,” said Jack.

“You can’t be sure. Just because —”

“I’m sure,” said Jack firmly. He gave Lance a look that meant there was no doubt about the words he spoke.

Lance had seen that look a few times before. It had been given by men he knew in Satans Wrath. It conveyed a message that could not be said aloud.

Jack and Danny watched Lance leave before heading back to their car. “What do you think?” asked Danny. “You sure it’s not Bishop?”

“Satans Wrath wouldn’t make a mistake like that. I bet when CC digs a little deeper she’ll find out the guy owed money for drugs or gambling or something.”

“We going to call it a night?”

“I was going to drop in on Lucy at the lab. Tell her I appreciate all the extra hours she’s putting in. I heard she already found speed residue on the money that was seized from Silent Sam’s pockets.”

“Let me do that. With what just happened, maybe you should get home to Natasha.”

Jack hurried inside the office as soon as Danny dropped him off and placed a quick call to Natasha. She was concerned but accepted his explanation that he thought it was a coincidence.

“I’ve only been married to you for five months,” she said. “You better not be coming home with any bullet holes in you!”

“Hey, you’re a doctor. You could patch me up.” Her silence told Jack that levity was not an option. “If, by some remote chance, it wasn’t a coincidence, it had to be a moron to make a mistake like this. We’ll find out who did it. In the meantime, make sure nobody pulls into the underground parking behind you. Check the camera before buzzing anybody in.”

“You on your way home?”

“I’m going to drop by B.C. Children’s. Meet the victim’s wife. See if I can get a feel for all this. If her husband is dirty, she’ll know.”

“Jack...”

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Jack made his inquiries at the hospital. Charlie Taggart, barely a year old, was in critical condition in the operating room. His mom and sister were both in a private room talking with a hospital counsellor.

The room was not difficult to locate. Jack could hear the crying and sobbing from within. He stood outside and waited. Even if the guy was dirty, listening to this is bloody awful. He decided to stroll down the hallway.

Eventually, Holly, with Jenny wrapped under one arm, left the room. She anxiously glanced at a doctor who approached, but he continued past. She could have stayed in the room with the counsellor but thought it would delay news of her son. Jack watched as she nervously stood in the corridor. When she noticed Jack approaching, she pulled Jenny closer.

Her face ... she hasn’t a clue what is going on. Her eyes are as innocent as her little girl’s. This is somehow a terrible mistake. Her husband shouldn’t be in the morgue ... or Charlie on the operating table.

Jack’s brain screamed at him like two separate entities. They were ripped apart because of me! It’s me who should be in the morgue!

No! It can’t be. This is all a coincidence ... nothing to do with me.

Jack didn’t give his name to Holly but showed her his badge while introducing himself as a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. He ushered Holly and Jenny to a waiting area and gently asked for the details of what happened.

Holly’s response was in a monotone as she stared past Jack down the hall. She had told the other officer everything, she said. She opened her purse and handed Jack a business card. Integrated Homicide Investigation Team — Cpl. Connie Crane. Jack gave her the card back.

“I’ll talk with Connie,” said Jack.

“Are you a policeman?” asked Jenny.

“Yes,” replied Jack. He tried to smile at the child but felt awkward to be smiling in front of Holly.

“My name’s Jenny. What’s your name?”

“I should be going,” said Jack, looking at Holly. He stood up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” said Holly.

Jack took a deep breath and then let it out as he sat down again. “My name is Jack Taggart.”

Holly shook her head and said, “No, I asked you what your name is.”

Jack swallowed, and then explained that Jack Taggart was his name, too.

“That’s my daddy’s name,” said Jenny. “That’s funny!” She laughed and then said, “Isn’t that funny, Mommy?”

Jack looked at Holly and said, “I don’t work on Homicide. I work on an intelligence section dealing with organized crime. Corporal Crane called me to tell me about your husband. She thinks he may have been murdered as a result of mistaken identity.”

“Oh,” Holly said, and then stared past him down the hall. Jack wrote his own phone numbers down for her, including his cell, his office, and his home phones.

“If there is anything, anything at all, that I can do for you. Please ... please call me.”

Holly nodded and gave a perfunctory smile before slipping the information into her purse.

Jack saw the counsellor watching from across the hall and spoke with her as he was leaving.

“I’m a policeman,” he said. “Where’s her family? Why isn’t someone here?”

“Jenny and Charlie are her only family now. Neither she nor her husband had siblings. Her husband’s parents are in a nursing home and her own parents died several years ago.”

“Neighbours? Someone?”

“I asked. She said she didn’t live in the sort of neighbourhood that was conducive to making friends. Sounds like she didn’t have the time or the money to go out. She was either waitressing in a coffee shop or looking after her children while her husband went to school.”

“There has to be somebody!”

“Apparently not. I’ll watch her. She won’t be going anywhere as long as her son is in OR.”

“And if he doesn’t make it?”

The counsellor bit her bottom lip and didn’t reply.

Jack reached for his wallet and said, “If that happens, please call me. I’ll help.” He gave her his business card and included all his numbers.

Jack was just leaving the hospital when he met Connie Crane coming in.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Jack looked at her and said, “That sounds familiar. Think you’ve asked me that before.”

“I did on another investigation, and you didn’t mind your own business then, either.”

“I just wanted to see her. See what she looked like.” “Did you?”

Jack nodded.

“No tattoos,” said Connie. “No weathered face. If her makeup wasn’t smeared all over she would look like what I think she is.”

“How’s that?”

“Innocent!”

Jack sighed. “That’s my read too.”

“So I’m just having a hard time believing your crap that it’s all a coincidence. I want names. Who do you suspect?”

“That’s just it, I don’t suspect anyone.”

“You take down a bunch of Satans Wrath labs today and think it’s all a coincidence?”

“They know me. They also know Natasha and they know we don’t have any children. It’s not them. I have a good source. If it turns out to be some low-level punks working the bottom end of the labs, I’ll find out.”

“These guys were professional. Cold and calculating. They shot him in the heart first. Didn’t care that he was holding his baby. That’s when his wife and daughter showed up. Then they stepped forward and shot him in the back of the head. After that, they just turned and walked away. These were no punks. These bastards have killed before.”

“It still could be a coincidence. Completely unrelated to me.”

“Could be, but I want you to think about it. Tomorrow morning I want a list of possibilities. After that, keep your head low and butt out this time!”

“If this isn’t personal, that is exactly what I intend to do.”

“And if it is?”

Jack turned on his heel and walked away.

chapter three

It was nine o’clock in the morning when Staff Sergeant Luigi “Louie” Grazia strode across the carpeted floor in Assistant Commissioner Isaac’s office and then stopped in front of his desk, waiting for him to look up.

For management purposes, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was broken down into four regions Canada-wide: Atlantic, Central, North West, and Pacific. Assistant Commissioner Isaac was the criminal operations officer who oversaw all the operational investigations in the Pacific Region.

Louie knew that Isaac deserved the respect that went with his position. He was a shrewd and tireless worker. He could quote policy and legal matters to the point that Louie wondered if it was true that he had a photographic memory. Isaac was also unbending when it came to policy — something that made Louie uncomfortable. His section tended to have many grey areas when it came to what was right or wrong. Well, actually some things are clearly wrong...

Eventually Isaac glanced up and said, “How long have you been in charge of Intelligence, Louie?”

There were three leather upholstered chairs facing Isaac’s desk, but he did not gesture for Louie to sit so he remained standing. “Coming up ten years, sir,” replied Louie casually, trying to get a read on Isaac’s disposition. As usual, Isaac’s face revealed nothing.

“Still plan on retiring this coming summer?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll have my thirty-five years in this July.”

Isaac nodded before continuing. “What can you tell me about this Taggart matter? Is the Jack Taggart who works for you the target of someone who wants to kill him?”

“Not that I know of, sir. I-HIT is investigating. I spoke with Jack and he thinks it might all be a coincidence.”

“I want I-HIT, you, and Taggart in my office in one hour for a meeting.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll arrange it.”

Damien, at fifty-three years of age, had done well for someone who had started out with nothing. His home, protected from view by a stone wall, was situated on an estate in one of the most prestigious areas of Vancouver. From the street, one could see only the roof, which was peppered with satellite dishes and antennas. Closed-circuit television cameras mounted in strategic locations outside led to a fortified panic room inside the mansion. A large cast iron gate, electronically controlled, blocked the entrance to the driveway. Damien did not become national president of Satans Wrath Motorcycle Club by being careless ... or weak.

Damien sat at his kitchen table and read the newspaper. It was a quiet time of the day that he enjoyed. His wife, Vicki, who was thirty-five, had borne him three children. Buck was thirteen, and his two sisters, Sarah and Kate, were eleven and eight years old. Damien enjoyed bantering with his children at the breakfast table, but now that they were heading out the door to school, he also enjoyed sitting quietly and catching up on the news.

Vicki had already skimmed the paper today and she watched with interest as her husband flipped to the local news.

Damien let out a snort when he read about the speed labs being connected with Satans Wrath and how the arrests and seizures would have a big impact on the crystal meth supply in the city. Good excuse to raise the price.

Vicki gestured to the article and asked, “Is it a problem?”

Damien shook his head. “They’re always trying to pin crap on us. Actually it’s funny. They think it’s a big deal ... shows how small their cerebral cavities are. I might have to do the usual PR routine to the media. No big deal.”

“The paper said that two members were taken down. Silent Sam and Petro.”

“Silent Sam doesn’t even have his full patch yet. No worries. Leisure Suit Larry will have them out today.”

Vicki suppressed a smile. Leisure Suit Larry was Damien’s pet name for Lawrence Leitch, a lawyer that Satans Wrath kept on retainer.

Vicki noticed Damien turn another page and scan the paper for something else to read. His eyes settled on an article. Seconds later, he slammed the paper down on the table. She saw the pulse beat on the side of his temple and his fist close momentarily. He abruptly stood up and headed for his communications centre in the den. She knew from experience that this was not the time to ask why.

Vicki reached for the paper. The article was about the murder of a man called Jack Taggart. He was gunned down, leaving behind a wife and two children. One child, an infant, was wounded and still undergoing surgery. His condition was listed as critical. Jack Taggart ... I’ve heard that name before. Isn’t he one of the cops who was in a shootout with the club last year?

In his control centre, Damien rapidly sent a BlackBerry message. Pussy Paul received the message immediately and understood its importance. Pussy Paul controlled the strip clubs for Satans Wrath, but more importantly, he was also responsible for recruiting people who worked in a variety of positions that could benefit Satans Wrath.

Damien’s anger was evident. The message noted that an RCMP Intelligence officer was named Jack Taggart. Not just any officer, but one that had considerable past conflict with the club. Damien capitalized his point: SOMEONE DOES THIS THE SAME DAY AS THE LABS ARE TAKEN DOWN! We don’t need the attention — not now of all times! Contact the mole and find out what Taggart thinks. Are they blaming us? I want the info included with the other delivery. Arrange for me to meet LSL personally.

Pussy Paul knew that the “other delivery” was a copy of an RCMP intelligence report that they were expecting to receive by Thursday. That only gave him two days to find out about this other matter.

Lawrence Leitch checked his watch as the judge released two of his more important clients. They were to return in a week to enter a plea. Leitch was pleased. They had been in jail less than a day. Silent Sam and Petro smirked at each other before giving a curt nod to Leitch. In a week they would enter a not guilty plea and a trial date would be set. With delay tactics, such as having his clients fire him just before the trial, Leitch was confident that he could drag the situation on for at least two years. They would then hire another lawyer from his firm and the games would continue. Who knew what could happen to witnesses during that time?

The court recessed for morning coffee. Leitch used the break to browse through the information he had on the other eleven clients arrested in connection with the speed labs.

Jack shifted in his seat and glanced at Assistant Commissioner Isaac. Operational meetings in his office were rare. The murder of his namesake was drawing more attention than he wished. Also present were Louie, Danny, Connie Crane, and Randy Otto, who was Connie’s boss in I-HIT.

After a nod from Randy, Connie took a report from her briefcase and quickly read the details of the murder and the inquiries being conducted. She noted that the victim had never been in trouble with the police. He did not carry life insurance, and his wife was definitely not a suspect.

Jack fielded the questions as best he could. He was adamant that it was not in retaliation for yesterday’s raids on the speed labs. He reiterated that he and Danny had a reliable source who would have known if that was the case, not to mention that Satans Wrath knew what he looked like and where he lived.

Isaac studied him closely and then said, “You were also responsible for the DEA seizing a metric tonne of cocaine in San Diego three weeks ago. Perhaps Satans Wrath found out that you were involved? Your name was on the warrants for the speed labs here. Did the Americans use it on their warrant for the cocaine in the ship?”

“No sir. It was left out intentionally to protect my informant. Lots of people knew about the speed labs, but not too many new the details about the ship. I called the DEA agent I dealt with over that matter. I’ve known JimBo for years. I both trust and respect him. He assured me that he never divulged my name and simply identified me in a search warrant as a confidential informant. He didn’t even indicate that I was Canadian.”

“That much cocaine, it must have made someone angry,” said Isaac.

“Sir,” said Jack, “after 9-11, everyone knows that there is more security at the ports. I think the cartels expect to take a few hits once in a while. Even if Satans Wrath did find out, it still leaves us with the fact that they know what I look like. They also know what my wife looks like and that she’s a doctor. The victim in this matter lived in low-rental housing and was obviously poor. Satans Wrath wouldn’t make a blunder like that.”

Isaac leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table with his hands up by his lips, almost like he was praying. The room became quiet as everyone waited for him to speak.

Isaac stared at Jack, and then he concluded the meeting by saying that it was possible it was a coincidence but that he wanted to be apprised of any new developments.

As Jack headed back to his office, Connie came up from behind.

“Jack! Hold on a minute. I want to talk to you about a few things. I need some names.”

A few minutes later they entered Jack’s office, which consisted of his desk butting up to Danny’s desk. Danny offered Connie the use of his desk and left. Connie put her briefcase down on Danny’s desk and took out a pad of paper.

“I’ve thought of a few names,” said Jack, “but more to appease you than anything. None that I really think would do this.”

“I have to go to the lady’s room,” said Connie. “Think hard. Try and come up with a few more while I’m gone.”

As soon as she left, Jack slid her briefcase across to his desk and took out her file. He found a manila folder and dumped out numerous glossy photos of the crime scene. The horror shocked him. Blood on Holly’s face and hands from having dropped to her knees to hold her dead husband. Her eyes look blank — like they’re dead. More blood on Jenny. Something a four-year-old should not have to experience. Something nobody should have to experience. He was spared the pictures of Charlie, who had already been rushed to hospital when the photos were taken.

His phone rang and he was glad for the opportunity to look away.

“Jack? It’s Laura Secord. Just got back from Bangkok last night and didn’t hear the news until this morning. What’s going on? Was it meant for you?”

“Don’t know,” replied Jack. “Maybe just a coincidence. What were you doing in Bangkok?”

“Playing the role of a dumb bimbo being used to body-pack a couple kilos of heroin. Why do I always have to play the dumb bimbo? Drug dealers are so damned sexist. They all have over-bloated egos. Wish I could play the parts you get just for once.”

Jack knew that Laura was anything but dumb. He had teamed up with her on the occasional assignment and found her to be one of the best operatives he had ever worked with. She had long chestnut-coloured hair, an attractive figure, and a face that was as sweet as her name. It fooled a lot of people. Underneath her pretty face was a mind that was extremely sharp. She was also pragmatic, and it served her specialty well. Bad guys often didn’t discover her real abilities until much too late. Her reputation was top-notch and her talents were in high demand.

“You didn’t play a bimbo when we did that operation in Edmonton a few years ago.”

“No, but that was unusual. Normally I’m there to show a little T and A and pretend to be someone’s girlfriend.”

“Look at it this way, you shock the bad guys a lot more when they find out what you’re really all about. That has to give you some satisfaction.”

“True. I do enjoy that part. Enough about me. What is going on with this other Jack Taggart being murdered? Any leads? Is it connected with you? I’ll be glad to help.”

“Doesn’t your husband still work in Internal Affairs?”

“Sort of. Elvis is on the Anti-Corruption side of it. What’s that got to do with anything? He’s a good guy! Oh man, not you too. Just because —”

“No, I’m just teasing. I know he’s a good guy. He’s got a good rep. He turned out pretty good for coming from such cruel parents.”

“His parents aren’t cruel! Where did you hear that? They’re nice people.”

“Naming your child Elvis is not cruel? Come on! He had to be either a fighter or a runner.”

Laura laughed and said, “He’s never been a runner.”

“That’s good. Listen, I really appreciate your call. Right now we don’t know what is going on. If I need...” Jack’s voice choked when he flipped over a photo and saw a close-up of Holly. Her anguish and helplessness was vivid on her bloody face. Am I responsible for this? Was this family ripped apart ... because of something I did?

“Jack? What is it? Jack?”

Jack shook his head to clear his mind and then said, “Sorry, Laura. Just looking at some crime scene photos from last night. It’s pretty bad. I should go.”

Jack hung up the phone just as Connie returned. She saw the photos on Jack’s desk.

“What the hell you doing? I can’t even go to the can for a minute without you snooping in my briefcase! I told you last night to stay out of this...” She caught the stricken look on his face and stopped.

Jack stared up at her. His eyes were watery and he said, “If this was meant for me ... I thought there might be some clue only I would recognize. There wasn’t. I really don’t have any names for you right now. Let me think about it. Maybe later. If I have any ideas, no matter how remote, I promise I’ll let you know.”

Connie nodded and said, “Good enough. In the meantime, keep a low profile.”

“I hear you. I will.”

“Got your word on that?”

“Yes.”

Danny entered as soon as she left. He took one look at Jack and said, “What is it? What did she say to you?”

Jack shook his head. “It’s not her. It’s me. I’m afraid ... that it’s all about me.” He stood and said, “I need some fresh air. Think I’ll go for a walk.”

“I’ll come too. Could use the exercise.”

“No. Thanks anyway. I’m okay. Just give me a few minutes.”

Jack breathed deeply as he walked outside the building. I just need a little time to...

His cellphone vibrated and he answered. It was Holly calling from the hospital. Her voice was a monotone. She had some news about Charlie. Wanted to tell him in person.

chapter four

Jack saw Holly talking with a doctor in the hallway near the nurse’s station. Jenny clung to her mother’s leg. Jack’s heart sent a silent message to his brain. He knew then that the murder had been intended for him. His brain had rationalized and tried to deny it, but in his heart he knew.

Jack waited until the doctor left before approaching. An orderly pushed a cart of lunch trays past and he tried to read Holly’s face as she looked at him from over the cart.

Jack was good at reading people’s faces and body language — his life had often depended upon it. With Holly he drew a blank. Is Charlie alive or dead? Her eyes looked dark from the puffy lids and bags in the skin. There were no tears. Perhaps, for the moment, she was cried out.

“I came as fast as I could,” he said.

“I want you to have this,” she said, taking a photograph out of her purse. “It was taken two weeks ago when Charlie took his first steps.”

Jack swallowed and took the picture from her hand. Charlie’s joy was evident as he beamed up at the camera, proud and delighted with his accomplishment. “Did ... did he survive the surgery?”

“Oh ... yes, he did.”

Jack realized that he had been holding his breath and let out a sigh of relief.

“But he was left paraplegic,” continued Holly. “He won’t ever walk again.”

Jack felt like a wrecking ball had just taken out his guts. For a moment, he felt his legs buckle and looked for a chair.

“I’m afraid to go see him alone ... with Jenny. You said you would help me. Please come with me.”

Jack went with Holly as if he was in a trance. He saw Charlie, his body being kept alive by tubes and machines.

Jack didn’t remember returning to his car or driving back to his office. Danny had not returned from lunch yet and he sat alone at his desk. His mind felt numb and he looked at Charlie’s picture again. He opened and closed his eyes a few times to try to regain control.

“Hi, Jack! How’s it going?”

Jack looked up as Dick Molen entered his office.

Molen worked as an analyst, more commonly known as the circle and squares job. He would take lengthy intelligence reports and bring clarity to them by encompassing names of people and organizations in various circles or squares. Adding connecting lines made it easier to analyze and understand at a glance how everyone was connected.

“I heard what happened,” continued Molen. “Sure glad it wasn’t you that was killed. Lucky mistake, eh?”

Jack looked down at Charlie’s picture. He felt both anger and tears swell from within. “Lucky!” he yelled. “Look at this picture and tell me you think it was lucky!”

Dick stepped back, shocked by the outburst.

Jack closed his eyes momentarily, then said, “I’m sorry, Dick. It’s not your fault. You just caught me at a bad time.”

Dick coughed, then nodded and said, “That’s okay. Guess I’d be a little upset too if someone tried to kill me. Who’s the kid?”

Jack explained the situation to him and Molen said, “I can’t see it being a coincidence after you took down all those speed labs. How did you get on to them? Maybe that’s where this came from.”

Jack grimaced and said, “You’re not alone in your thinking. Everyone else is pointing a finger at the bikers too, but I don’t think it’s them. They know what I look like. They wouldn’t make a mistake like that.”

“How did you find out about the labs? Wiretap? Maybe there is something there that you missed?”

Jack shook his head and said, “Not wiretap. Just surveillance.”

“Well, if you want me to take a look at the work you’ve been doing, I’ll be glad to analyze it for you. Maybe something will jump out. Lately all I’ve been doing is analyzing reports on the Indos. They’ve got so many common names that it’s a nightmare trying to sort everyone out. Would be nice to get back to good ol’ names like Smith and Johnson.”

Louie wondered why he had been summoned back to Isaac’s office. Isaac was alone and motioned for Louie to sit down. Isaac held a report in his hand and said, “I have some information concerning someone your office was working on last year in regards to Satans Wrath.”

“Yes, sir?”

“This just arrived from Ottawa a few minutes ago. We need to discuss...”

Isaac’s secretary then came to the door and said, “Your one-thirty appointment is here, sir.”

“Tell him to wait,” replied Isaac. “I don’t want to be disturbed now. Or better yet,” he said, putting the report down on his desk, “let’s set another appointment.”

Louie risked a glance at the report while Isaac spoke with his secretary. Reading upside down was not easy, but some words caught his eye. “A small unnamed settlement near Barra de Navidad, Mexico” ... “Sidney Bishop” ... “deceased, November” ... Damn it! Taggart got him!

Louie saw Isaac turn his attention back to him, so he smiled politely and said, “You said you received some information, sir?”

“Yes. But first, how long has Corporal Taggart been working for you?”

Louie thought for a moment and then replied, “About six years. He worked undercover on Drug Section for about six years prior to that. Is there a problem?”

“Wasn’t it last November when he married?”

“Yes, sir. Is there a —”

“And they went to Mexico on their honeymoon.”

“I believe so. Costa Rica too, I think.”

“It’s been almost a year since Taggart’s niece and nephew were murdered when they happened upon those bikers meeting with that corrupt prosecutor, Sidney Bishop. Three or four months after that when the culprits were identified.”

“Yes, sir. Sidney Bishop is still at large for that.”

“I’m sure Bishop’s escape must be constantly on Taggart’s mind. How has he been handling it? Is he spending a lot of time trying to find him?”

“I don’t think he has any leads to go on at the moment. He won’t give up, though. Last week I saw him pound his desk in frustration, muttering that someday he would bring Bishop to justice.”

“He did?” said Isaac, sounding surprised.

“But you know Satans Wrath,” said Louie. “Chapters all over the world. I’m sure Bishop is living under an assumed name someplace. The prospects of finding him don’t look good.”

“Taggart has an informant in Satans Wrath. Surely by now he could have found out something.”

“Taggart’s informant wasn’t high enough up the ladder to be privy to the information. It isn’t the type of organization where you can ask questions. If you do, you’re liable to receive a bullet as an answer. Taggart’s rather protective of his informants, and quite frankly, when it comes to Satans Wrath, I don’t blame him.”

Isaac slowly nodded in agreement, then said, “Well, Louie, I’ve got some good news on that issue. I’ve just received a report that Bishop was located in Mexico.”

“That’s great! Taggart will be elated to hear this! We’ll get an extradition order and —”

“Hold on,” said Isaac, gesturing with his hands for Louie to stop. “Bishop is dead.”

“Dead?”

“It happened last November. The Mexican police say he tripped and fell beside his swimming pool, knocking himself out and falling into the water and drowning. He was living under an assumed identity from the U.S. Things didn’t match up there and it took until now for a fingerprint search to reach Ottawa, where he was properly identified.”

Louie let out a deep breath and said, “I see. Well at least that wraps things up. Connie Crane from I-HIT was handling the case, but with your permission I would like to tell Taggart. He’ll want to inform his sister and brother-in-law.”

“Not a problem. I’ve discussed this with Staff Sergeant Randy Otto.”

“I-HIT doesn’t mind if Jack breaks the news?” Isaac shook his head and said, “Staff Otto said he had no objections.”

Louie stood to leave, and Isaac said, “By the way, just out of curiosity, do you happen to know where in Mexico it was that Taggart spent his honeymoon?”

“I believe it was around Mexico City. I’m not sure.”

“Bishop was living on the Pacific side. Some little settlement that doesn’t even have a name. Near a village called Barra de Navidad. Quite a coincidence that Bishop died during the same week that Taggart was in the country.”

Louie briefly allowed his mouth to droop open in surprise and then said, “Good God! You’re not thinking that Taggart had anything to do with...?”

“It certainly crossed my mind, but I feel reassured that you said he is still upset about not finding him. Go and tell him now. Maybe it will help provide him some closure to all this.”

Isaac waited until Louie left his office before dialling Staff Sergeant Harry Legg, who was in charge of the Anti-Corruption Unit and was waiting for his call.

“Louie just left,” said Isaac.

“Taggart is still in his office,” replied Legg. “How did it go with Louie?”

“Not good. He scanned the report when I gave him the opportunity. Later he feigned surprise when I told him that Bishop was dead.”

“Louie is in charge of Intelligence. It’s his nature to be nosy. He might have been covering up that fact.”

“I considered that, but I still don’t like it. I asked Louie where Taggart went in Mexico. His reply was, I believe it was around Mexico City. I’m not sure.”

“That’s the opposite side from where Bishop was.”

“It’s also a vague response. Hard to pin down. Just like Taggart not using any credit cards in Mexico, yet you say he did in Costa Rica.”

“Could be he started with cash, then used his Visa when the money ran out.”

“Or he didn’t want to leave a paper trail. You sound like you support his innocence?”

“Sir, I’m not saying that. I’m just considering other possibilities, or what Taggart could say if he was interviewed.”

“You said that Louie’s nature is to be nosy. Yours is to be suspicious. I want to know for sure. If Taggart is responsible, find out how he knew where Bishop was. Was it his informant in Satans Wrath? Louie said the informant wasn’t in a high enough position to know at that time. From what I know of Satans Wrath, I believe that to be true. But if Taggart is responsible, how did he find out where Bishop was? If only the top dogs in Satans Wrath knew the location ... Taggart might have not only committed murder but could now be working for them.”

“All this is purely speculation, sir. We don’t have grounds for a wiretap, and surveillance, except for today, isn’t likely to shed much light and could jeopardize Taggart and his investigations if he is innocent.”

“I know, but see if you can find out exactly where he went in Mexico. Also give the Combined Forces Special Enforcement Unit a call. I know they’re also monitoring Satans Wrath.”

“CFSEU? They’re independent. Do you really think we should be passing on our suspicions about Taggart this soon? He could be entirely innocent, and even if he isn’t, it might jeopardize our —”

“No need to point fingers. Just say that we’re investigating potential leaks and would like to be kept apprised should they become aware of any involvement between any of our members and Satans Wrath.”

“Yes, sir. One moment, please.... I just got word that Taggart is leaving the office,” added Legg.

“See if the news was a surprise.”

“We’re on him. Will let you know.”

Jack was glad that he had the rest of the afternoon off as he crossed the Port Mann Bridge and headed east on the Trans-Canada Highway. He replayed the scenario in his head from when Louie had broken the news. Danny had been excited and anxious to call his wife, Susan, and let her know. She too had almost become a victim of Bishop’s assassination plot.

Louie had then taken Jack into his own office and told him about Isaac’s concern. Louie’s advice was welcome but something Jack would have done regardless. Naturally he would want to tell his sister and brother-in-law that the man responsible for their children’s murders was dead.

At first, Jack was careful not to move his head while scanning his rear-view mirror. Advertising paranoia could be construed as evidence of a guilty mind. Then again, if someone is trying to kill me — who wouldn’t be paranoid!

He decided to make no pretence of hiding his actions and carefully studied all the vehicles around him. Nothing aroused his attention.

It was almost three-thirty when he arrived at the farm. He gave his sister a big hug and a kiss as she came to the door.

“What a pleasant surprise! Come on in. Where’s Natasha?”

“Still at work.”

Elizabeth hollered to Ben and he appeared from out of the barn and came over.

“You have time for tea?”

Jack nodded, then asked, “Is Marcie home yet?”

“Her school bus should be along any minute. Why?”

“Nothing. Just haven’t seen you for a while. How’s she doing?”

“Doing great. I was worried when she turned thirteen that her hormones would kick in and maybe give us a challenge. Just the opposite. She’s now top in her class. Not bad for a kid who was on the street last year and ... you know, getting into that sort of life. The adoption is coming along great. She’ll soon be officially ours.”

“That’s fantastic, Liz. I needed to hear some good news for a change.”

Once Liz had plugged in the kettle, the three of them sat at the kitchen table.

“When you called this morning,” said Ben, “you said a guy with your name was murdered. You here because of that?”

“Are you in danger?” asked Liz.

Jack shrugged. “Nothing new on that. The infant who was shot is going to live, but...” Jack stopped. He knew he couldn’t finish without losing control of his emotions.

“But what?” asked Liz.

“But ... that’s not why I’m here. The brass received a report today that the Mexican police found Bishop’s body. They suspect accidental drowning.”

“Good,” said Ben.

“Glad, that’s over,” added Liz. “Do you want a cookie?”

Marcie burst through the kitchen door. “Hi, Jack!”

He stood as she came, and she gave him a strong hug and a kiss on his cheek. “You here for dinner?” she asked, taking a seat.

“No, I can’t stay long. Natasha will be off work at five. I want to be home.”

“Those your friends out on the road?” asked Marcie.

“What friends?”

“Two cops driving by in an unmarked car. Really eyeballed our mailbox. Either cops or Jehovah’s Witnesses, but this is only Tuesday, not the weekend, so they gotta be cops.”

Everyone exchanged glances and nobody spoke for several seconds. Then Jack said, “Heard it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.”

chapter five

Jack awakened feeling groggy. The memories of Bishop had been reawakened and it had been a long, restless night. He knew today wouldn’t go any better when Natasha looked across her breakfast and said, “I hadn’t told you before ... but I bumped into a Mexican policeman less than a kilometre from Bishop’s home the day before he died. I used the opportunity to practise my Spanish.”

Jack felt a piece of egg rise from his stomach and swallowed again before asking, “Why?”

“I didn’t know at the time what you were up to. I thought we were just on our honeymoon.”

“No. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? After ... it happened?”

“I didn’t want you to worry. Now that they’ve said it’s an accident, it’s no big deal, right?”

Wrong! It is a big deal! Jack looked at Natasha and thought, Why let her worry? “You’re right. I think it was just routine to follow me out to the farm. Tying up loose ends.”

“Do you think they will continue to follow you?”

“No. It wouldn’t gain them anything. As far as Ben and Liz go, that makes sense.”

“I just thought ... what about the phones? Would they —”

“They would never get grounds for a wiretap. It’s hard enough to get grounds on people with criminal histories, let alone us.”

Natasha let out a deep breath and then smiled. “It’s finally over,” she murmured.

Jack nodded, but his stomach continued to churn. The black coffee and eggs seemed more infused with grease.

“You still look like something is troubling you,” said Natasha.

“I just have a lot on the go. I’m okay.” “You don’t look it. This thing with Bishop — it could exacerbate the stress from last year. Now this thing with Holly’s husband.... I’m worried about you.”

“I can handle it.”

“I’ve heard that before. Usually from people who are on their way to a nervous breakdown. You should take some time off.”

Boatloads of cocaine due to arrive any day. Lance now president of the west-side chapter. A debt to be repaid to Damien. A family destroyed who shared my name. Take a holiday! Don’t I wish!

“I’m fine! If you want to worry about someone, worry about Charlie. That’s the little guy who needs help.”

“No need to snap at me.”

Jack stared at her and then said, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. But it proves my point. You are under a lot of stress.”

Jack sighed. “I know you’re right. I’ll watch myself, but there is too much happening right now for me to take a break. There is nothing going on that I can’t handle. I still have control. You’ve taught me that.”

Natasha smiled and said, “The advice I once gave you about post-traumatic stress was simplified. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Duly noted,” said Jack. “I’d love to stay and talk, but I have to pick up Danny. We’re meeting a source this morning. See if he can help shed some light on things.”

Natasha followed him to the door, where she gave him a passionate kiss and said, “Just remember. I love you. I also know you’re not made out of iron. I wouldn’t love you if you were. I love you because you are human, and all humans have a breaking point. Just look after yourself, if not for you, then for my sake, will you?”

Jack kissed her again and then left.

Staff Sergeant Legg walked into Isaac’s office and got right to the point. “He went straight to his sister’s place. Everything seems legit.”

“He may have suspected that he was being followed,” said Isaac.

“Always possible. Do you want us to bring him in for interrogation and see if we can wrap it up, one way or the other? Shouldn’t take long to corroborate when and where he went in Mexico.”

“Not yet. Get your ducks in line first. Obtain photos of him and his wife and send them to the Mexican authorities. They can check with the local police where Bishop was staying. The place is so small that any grin-gos are bound to stand out.”

“I doubt that there are more than a couple of policemen there to show pictures to,” said Legg.

“Then there’s also not much of a population base. Shouldn’t take them long. If Taggart was there, we’ll find out soon enough.”

Jack and Danny crossed a small knoll in the cemetery and saw Lance waiting at the usual location.

“Any heat over the labs?” asked Jack.

“Not a bit. Too Mickey Mouse to worry about. Besides, we still have two labs going full tilt and it’s a good excuse to jack the price way up.”

“Anything on the Taggart murder?” asked Jack.

Lance shook his head. “Don’t think it was connected. The dumb schmucks running the labs are too stupid to keep something like that quiet. We would have heard.”

“What about the cargo ship taken down in San Diego?” asked Danny.

“Not a peep about it. Everyone thinks it was just a casualty from the war on terrorism. Our money is riding on the next ship, which should arrive soon. I’ll get a couple of days’ notice to find a stash site and make sure the deliveries are lined up.”

“Anything else?” asked Jack.

“Whiskey Jake and I are to meet with Damien tomorrow. Said something about having to see Leitch in the morning and then he wants to meet us right after.”

“Bet Leitch wants to talk to him about the labs,” said Danny.

“Naw, I don’t think so. Damien is worried about the anti-gang legislation but nobody was charged with that. The labs will probably come up, but Damien wouldn’t concern himself with something as trivial as that.”

“What do you think it’s about?” asked Jack. “Money laundering?”

“Leitch could be his Maytag agent, but these days Damien seems to be fixated on the Indos and what they’re up to. He told Sparks to take whatever funding he needs for bugging and put him in charge of selecting surveillance teams. I think we might be going to war.”

“With the police?” asked Danny.

Lance frowned at Danny, then said, “No, of course not. With the Indos. I got no idea where that thing came from about someone killing the other Jack.”

“I want you to try and identify the dirty narc for us,” said Jack.

“Yeah, I know, but it isn’t the sort of thing I can ask about. Maybe now with my new promotion, things will come a little easier. Damien mentioned there will be some restructuring taking place. Maybe that’s what he wants to talk to Whiskey Jake and me about tomorrow.”

It was later that afternoon when Ray parked his green van with the tinted rear windows and went for a stroll in Stanley Park. It didn’t take him long to find Leitch, who handed him a manila envelope. Ray opened it and withdrew a report.

“It’s yours to keep,” said Leitch. “I made a copy.”

Ray was pleased as he glanced at the report. It gave him names, addresses, criminal histories, and a complete picture of the hierarchy of organized crime as it related to the Indo community in Western Canada. It also listed their affiliations with other groups worldwide. He was particularly pleased to see that The Boss was not included. Canada’s federal police force was sadly lacking in its assessment!

Ray read in the report that there was speculation about a war in British Columbia between the Indos and Satans Wrath. Interesting. Who will win? The bikers are much more organized yet seem to lack the propensity to remove obstacles related to the judiciary — something I just can’t comprehend. On the other hand, the Indos use violence without hesitation but are not as well organized. If there is a war, which side will win and work for us?

Ray looked at Leitch and asked, “Has Damien received this yet?”

Leitch shook his head and said, “The copy for Damien has been locked away as usual. I’m supposed to give it to him tomorrow morning.”

Ray snickered to himself. The report was from a police officer that Satans Wrath had cultivated, yet it was he who saw it first. Leitch knew his place. The amount of money he had been paid was minuscule in the overall scheme of things. Of course, a bloody fool like Leitch thinks the amount I gave him makes him wealthy. Small men ... small dreams.

Ray saw another sheet of paper in the envelope and pulled it out. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Some Mountie that Damien wanted checked out. An officer by the name of Taggart. Someone by that same name was murdered. The note says the police officer with the same name is almost in tears over it.”

“Really!” Ray paused for a moment, lost in thought, then asked, “Tell me, is Jack Taggart a common name in Canada?”

Leitch shrugged and said, “Not really.”

“I have never heard of such a name. It didn’t occur to me that there would be two in one city. Perhaps it is fortunate for the policeman that his name was not in the telephone directory.”

Leitch smirked when the meaning of Ray’s words became clear. “I suspect The Boss will not be happy,” he suggested.

“I’m hardly concerned. I will let him know. This is nothing that can’t be fixed.”

chapter six

On Thursday morning, Jack felt more agitated as he thought about the funeral he would be attending tomorrow.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go,” suggested Natasha. “Why put yourself through that?”

“Holly thinks it has something to do with me. It would be cowardly not to show up.”

“But at the funeral, it —”

“I think of them all the time. Holly ... Jenny ... Charlie. I need to go.”

“You’re tormenting yourself by being involved in something that may have nothing to do with you.”

“How could I not be involved? Do you really think I could just forget about it, not knowing if it was because of me? Every time I see a little kid running or playing, I’ll think of Charlie. There’s no way I’ll ever not be involved.”

“Fine, then I’m going with you.”

“Thought you had to work.”

“You’re more important. I figured I wouldn’t be able to talk you out of it. I already booked the morning off. I also talked with Susan. She and Danny are going as well.”

“She doesn’t need to do that. Tiffany is barely a year old. Jimmy is less than two months. She should stay home. Danny and I will go, but it’s not necessary for —”

“It is necessary! For all of us! Don’t shut out the people who love you when you need them.” Natasha then softened her voice and said, “We’re all worried about you. Quit trying to shoulder everything yourself. You’re not alone in this. It’s imperative that you remember that.”

The banks had just opened when Damien met with Leitch outside. Leitch watched his secretary go in, then turned to Damien and said, “The Crown’s case against those arrested inside the labs is strong. Same goes for Silent Sam for picking up the money. Petro is in a better position. They saw Silent Sam hand him the money but can’t prove that Petro knew it was the proceeds of a criminal venture.”

“Just do your job,” said Damien. “That’s what we pay you for.”

“The Crown does have a weak link. One person in toxicology examined all the exhibits. A Lucy somebody ... I’ve got her name at the office. If something were to happen to her at the opportune time, everything might get tossed out of court. She would be easier to get to. She doesn’t carry a gun.”

“Forget it!” said Damien. “There’s no need to whack anyone. This is B.C. What are my guys going to get? Probation? Maybe a couple of months?”

Leitch first shrugged that he didn’t know but then admitted, “Probably.”

“You read in the paper about someone by the name of Jack Taggart being murdered?” asked Damien.

“Yes. Unfortunately it wasn’t the same Jack Taggart who provided the grounds for the search warrants.”

“I think someone thought they were killing him. Whoever it was made a huge mistake. I’ve met Taggart. Had a chat with him last year in my basement after a couple of my men stepped out of bounds. Those men are now dead. Taggart saw to that. You can bet some sorry bastard will pay for trying to kill him.”

“Too bad whoever tried didn’t succeed.”

Damien shook his head. “Killing cops makes martyrs — and more cops with a vengeful attitude to replace them.”

Their conversation came to a stop when the secretary returned and handed her boss a brown manila envelope. She then continued down the street to her office.

Damien accepted the envelope and opened it. He caught a glimpse of the RCMP crime report. It was dated yesterday. Hot off the presses. He then read the note about Jack Taggart. Upset about the murder ... but doesn’t suspect Satans Wrath.

Moments after Leitch left, Damien sent a BlackBerry message to Lance and Whiskey Jake. Two hours later, when he finished meeting with them, he sent another message: Mister Taggart, we need to meet!

The reply was fast. Excellent idea! How about now? This time, not in your basement!

Damien sent his response. Montrose Park — by Second Narrows Bridge — 30 minutes.

Danny looked across the desk as Jack deleted a message on his BlackBerry and asked, “A message from our friend?”

“Different friend. I want you to drop me off and wait in the car. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“Holding out on me?” said Danny light-heartedly, trying to be funny.

“It’s Damien,” whispered Jack.

“Christ! How did he get your number?” “I gave it to him.”

Danny was taken aback. “You’re not meeting him alone. It could be a trap.”

“It’s not a trap. But you’ll keep your trap shut and do as I say.”

Danny’s heart quickened and the blood vessels in his face revealed his anger. “We’re partners. You think you’re being macho meeting him alone? Think he’ll respect you more? That’s not the way to —”

“It has nothing to do with that. It’s a personal matter. One I hope to resolve soon. Maybe you should just stay in the office.”

Danny paused and then said, “Personal matter?”

Jack didn’t respond.

“Damn it, okay. I’ll wait in the car. At least I’ll be closer if you need help.”

It was late in the afternoon when Jack met Damien and they went for a stroll around the small park that faced the Burrard Inlet.

Jack was blunt and to the point. “What the fuck is going on? I knock off a few of your labs and someone tries to kill me!”

Damien let out a snort and said, “Why do so many of you cops feel you have to lard on the tough talk?”

Jack pointed an accusing finger at Damien and said, “I know who was getting rich from those labs!”

Damien smiled briefly and then said, “I understand your thought process. It’s logical. There may even be a certain degree of verisimilitude to what you say, but I assure you that I had nothing to do with trying to kill you and don’t know who did. You owe me a favour, remember?”

Jack eyed him suspiciously and said, “I haven’t forgotten. I’ve still got your get-out-of-jail-free card tucked in my wallet.”

“Good. Then think about it. I can’t collect if you’re dead.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. I just wanted to hear it from you.”

“Now you have,” replied Damien.

“Speaking of favours, Bishop’s body was identified.”

“Really? I hear that swimming pools can be dangerous. Are you warm?”

“A little heat. Probably just routine. I think I’m okay now. Made sure I was clean before meeting you.”

Damien snorted, then said, “Good. Glad you got a taste of it. I deal with that all the time. Bugging too.”

“Don’t think I have to worry about that. They would need grounds. But contacting you is a concern.”

“The BlackBerry I’m using now is safe,” replied Damien. “Doesn’t hurt to be cautious, though.”

“If you know nothing about whoever tried to kill me, I guess there is no reason for me to contact you.” Jack eyed Damien carefully and said, “Unless I catch you doing something illegal and can rid my wallet of your card.”

Damien smiled and said, “Good luck. Nailing me isn’t going to happen. As far as some of the bros go, think about this. Speed labs are easy to replace — that’s if we were in that business. Whacking you isn’t a consideration.”

Jack received another message on his BlackBerry. It was the code name for Lance, followed by 911. Lance had never used the code before. Someone’s life is in danger! Someone worth saving...

chapter seven

Jack and Danny drove into an underground parking garage and Lance scrambled into the back seat.

“You got a high-level rat!” said Lance, panting as he spoke.

“Tell us something we don’t know,” replied Danny. “Someone tipped off a couple of those speed labs.”

“Not the narc! High level. This one has access to your intelligence reports.”

Jack felt the back of his neck tingle. “Details,” he asked. “Who? How did you find out?”

“Remember I told you that Whiskey Jake and I had to meet Damien this morning after he met with Leitch?”

Jack nodded.

“Damien showed us a secret RCMP Intelligence report. It was dated yesterday! It was all about the Indos. Laid everything out.”

“The Indos?” said Danny.

“What if it had been about the club? I’d be dead right now!”

“Lance, you’re forgetting something,” said Jack quietly.

“What’s that?”

“I said I would always protect you. Bishop wasn’t the first guy your club corrupted. He won’t be the last. Any reports I write are designed to protect you. I write them as if Damien is already reading them. I don’t trust our judicial system not to order them released to some defence lawyer. Trust me on this. Besides, the team working on the Indos has nothing to do with us. At least, not at the moment.”

Lance let out a deep breath and sat quietly.

“You okay now?” asked Jack.

“Yeah ... I’m okay.”

“What can you tell us about the report?”

“Lots of names, addresses, and stuff. Some in boxes with lines going to circles. Damien refers to the leak as The Mole. I think it came via Leitch because he just got it. I read it a couple of hours ago but was with Whiskey Jake and I couldn’t call you until now.”

“Where is the report now?” asked Jack.

“Damien kept it, but I think he might hand it off to Pussy Paul for safekeeping. That’s not all the meeting was about. Damien is setting up our corporate guidelines. He laid it all out. I suggest you make notes or you won’t remember.”

Jack glanced at Danny and gave a slight nod of his head. Danny removed his notebook and pen.

1) Lance and Whiskey Jake to be project leaders responsible for overall day-to-day operations.

2) Union control, especially at the ports and airport, to be handled by Brutus.

3) Elite mobile hit squad for Western Canada to be formed and run by Rellik, who also has president status. They will be their own chapter unto themselves with no official clubhouse.

“Rellik?” asked Jack.

“Yeah,” replied Lance. “Got that nickname because he’s dyslexic.”

Lance continued and Danny kept writing.

4) Surveillance and wiretap to be done/overseen by Sparks. Top priority is the Vietnamese.

“The Vietnamese,” said Danny. “I thought Damien was interested in the Indos!”

“You guys are doing a pretty good job on the Indos for us. If we go to war and the Indos form an alliance with the Vietnamese, then Damien wants to be prepared.”

5) Strikers to recruit mules in southern Alberta and Saskatchewan — U.S. border may be easier for smuggling there.

6) Pussy Paul to continue handling strip clubs and prostitution and is in charge of intelligence. Actively recruits people with no records to get jobs with the police, judiciary, Motor Vehicle Branch, telephone companies, etc. Handling of police and judiciary sources will be decided on a case-by-case basis. Important ones will always have a go-between so they won’t be caught dealing with any club members.

“How are they recruited?” asked Danny.

“The usual. Sex, money, blackmail, gambling debts, intimidation — whatever works.”

“Intimidation?” commented Danny.

“Yeah. Some coppers are intimidated so they kind of suck up to us. We start them off by being friendly and maybe getting them to do small favours. You know, dropping some chicken-shit ticket or something. Takes time, but then we work our way up to more serious matters. Pussy Paul recruited The Mole, but I don’t know what was used as incentive.”

Danny put the cap on his pen, but Lance said, “Don’t put your pen away yet. I got some more leaks to warn you about, but I don’t know their names. All being handled through Pussy Paul somehow.”

7) One Supreme Court judge — financial incentive.

8) One RCMP narc — unknown recruitment method.

9) A secretary with VPD — thinks she’s in love.

10) Close to turning a VPD detective working Vice — sexual inducement.

“That pretty well wraps it up for now,” said Lance.

“What about drugs? Who looks after that?” asked Danny.

“We try to keep that down to individual cells as much as possible. That way if a couple are busted they won’t be able to link it to the rest of the club. There is some overlapping. Big projects like the ships coming in ... well, that’s treated a little different.”

“How so?” asked Jack.

“All the chapters in Canada are invested in those, but smaller amounts are divided into smaller groups. Naturally, we are all brothers and stand behind each other. If someone is having a problem with distribution or competition, the club name in itself is usually enough to see that we get our way. If our name is not enough, then anyone who is needed will step in to do whatever needs to be done.”

“Like Rellik,” said Jack.

“Exactly. So what do ya think? Enough to keep ya busy for a while?”

“Not enough to keep us busy. Just food for thought,” replied Jack.

“This won’t keep you busy?”

“We’ll try to identify them, but I don’t see a lot that we can do without risking you getting burned.”

Lance nodded and said, “Appreciate that. I would-n’t have known this stuff if I hadn’t just made president. You start a witch hunt and Damien would put it together in two seconds.”

“You think you’ll be going to war with the Indos soon?” asked Jack.

“Damien says it’s inevitable, but with two more ships arriving in the next couple of weeks, he doesn’t want the war to start any time soon.”

Danny gestured to the last four entries in his notebook and asked, “Does Pussy Paul handle these sources direct?”

Lance glanced at the notes and said, “Naw, he would stay insulated. Most of the communication would go through someone else. Usually someone of the opposite sex, but these days, who knows.”

After some further discussion about union affiliation for targeted interests and overseas expansion, Lance opened the door to get out but stopped and said, “Oh yeah, almost forgot to tell ya. There’s something else.” He waited until Danny retrieved his notebook again.

11) Damien to handle public relations in the event of any bad press on the club. Might also arrange some charity drive as a result of the bad press from the labs being taken down.

Jack and Danny arrived back at the office and Jack said, “Take out your notebook, I want you to make another entry.”

“Sure,” said Danny, pulling out his notebook. “Okay, what?”

“Source advises he might be able to set up Lance and Damien but is concerned about being identified.”

Danny grinned when he understood Jack’s comment. If his notebook ever fell into the wrong hands or was ordered revealed by some judge, then the bad guys would think Whiskey Jake was the informant.

Moments later, Jack and Danny told Louie what they had learned.

“I think the report on the Indos came from Dick Molen,” said Jack. “The Mole ... Molen. Think about it. The report is fresh, and two days ago Molen asked me how I knew about the speed labs.”

“What did you say?” asked Danny.

“I told him it was through surveillance. He volunteered to assist. I thought it strange then because I hardly know the guy, but I passed it off as someone else wanting to help.”

“What can we do about him?” asked Danny. “If we do anything, we risk burning our friend.”

“First let’s confirm it’s Molen,” said Louie. “If it is, he will slowly have to be neutralized. All reports to him will have to be sanitized. I’ll speak to Isaac. If it’s him, then down the road we could have him transferred someplace — like Highway Patrol on Baffin Island.”

“This will have to be handled with extreme care,” said Jack. “Our friend’s life depends upon it.”

“I fully understand. We could start by submitting a false report and see where it ends up. Something juicy to demand immediate action.”

“I like that idea,” said Jack. “Maybe indicate the Indos are about to do a hit next week. Speculate that it might be on the bikers. A day or so later, follow it up with another report to indicate that the hit is on some low-level trafficker behind on his debts.”

“Good,” said Louie. “I don’t want to scare anyone into starting a war.”

“That would get messy,” said Jack. “Satans Wrath has generally learned to be precise, but the Indos have a flair for drive-by shootings. Innocent people could get killed.”

Louie reached for his phone and said, “I’ll try and meet with Isaac now. Tomorrow is Friday. If Isaac agrees, we could provide Molen with the fake report first thing Monday morning.”

“Good enough,” said Jack, “except I have a funeral to go to tomorrow.”

Louie understood. “No worries. I’ll look after it.”

“There’s always worries,” replied Jack. “Our friend is in a hell of a position.”

“Yeah, a great position for us,” said Danny.

“See if you feel that way when he starts fulfilling the responsibilities associated with his position,” replied Jack.

Louie gestured for them to be quiet as he spoke with Isaac. He hung up and said, “All of us have an immediate audience. Wants to hear a shortened version now, with a written report to follow.”

Jack sat forward in the stuffed leather chair and quickly provided Isaac with the organizational structure and history of Satans Wrath.

Isaac listened carefully to Jack’s words. “They have their own hit squad, surveillance teams, and intelligence unit ... which is highly funded,” Jack added.

A flicker of Isaac’s eyes told Jack that his point had been heard. He then continued, “For their intelligence unit, corruption and knowledge of the enemy is the name of the game. They are actively targeting transportation systems. Currently, they have some influence over the unions, particularly at the docks, and are working on the airports, railways, and trucking firms. They’re also expanding elsewhere.”

“Such as?” asked Isaac.

“Anything to do with import and export. Downtown Vancouver is the western terminus for CN and CP Rail. We have Canada’s largest deep-sea ports and are the gateway to the Orient. Deep-sea freighters exchange products from all over the world here. With Seattle just spitting distance away, large amounts of goods are shipped back and forth by truck and rail.”

“These fellows certainly aren’t sluggish when it comes to expansion,” commented Isaac.

“There’s more,” said Jack. “The Trans-Canada Highway and U.S. Interstate Highway system are also vital links. Vancouver airport is continually expanding to provide international air cargo and passenger transportation across the Pacific and to Europe. Feelers have already been put out with the Russian mafia for potential partnerships. On the home front, they’ve set their sights on politicians. Control of the unions helps with that, since politicians don’t like strikes.”

Leitch sipped on his Starbucks cappuccino and listened carefully as Ray passed on the instructions from The Boss. The anonymous note to RCMP Homicide would be sent immediately. Leitch was all too familiar with police investigative techniques. No prints. Leave no DNA under the seal. Use common bond paper.

“So you see,” said Ray, “the mistaken hit is no longer a mistake. It has worked in our favour. Who would have guessed that such a minor error would cause a policeman to grieve? You would think he would have been pleased that it was not him. It’s really quite extraordinary how the police react in this country.”

Leitch politely nodded his head in agreement, but his thoughts were still on delivering the message.

“I must admit, The Boss has come up with an excellent idea. We will make it look intentional. Murdered simply because he had the same name. Ensure that the police realize that no harm will befall Officer Taggart. Soon, it will be someone he works with or perhaps a friend or loved one. He will become a pariah. Let it be warning to any other officer who is energetic regarding organized crime that they may expect the same.”

“Organized crime is so general,” said Leitch, “that they won’t —”

“Precisely! They won’t know who to blame. Is it Satans Wrath? The Indos, Russians, Vietnamese — who? I think it is quite entertaining, really. Who cares if they do blame any of those groups? It won’t really affect us. The Boss is right. Why turn Taggart into a hero?”

“This will cause quite a stir,” said Leitch.

“Fear: it is the first step in making the law ineffective. The judiciary already appears indifferent. Why, as a policeman, would you want to risk your life or that of your loved ones? They will be both afraid and demoralized.”

Leitch thought about it. The police will concentrate on criminals at the bottom end, who will flourish as a consequence. Legal aid will pay well!

“Are you listening?” asked Ray.

Leitch put his dream on hold and quickly looked up and nodded.

“Naturally,” continued Ray, “we will follow up quickly by disposing of someone connected with Taggart. With his feelings of sympathy for the widow, I bet the chap shows up at the funeral tomorrow.”

chapter eight

There were only a few days left in April. The leaves had been out on most of the trees for a month and the Japanese plum trees were in full bloom. Despite an unusual surge of cold weather, it was a beautiful, sunny morning. Too nice, thought Jack, to be put in a coffin at the age of thirty-two and lowered into the ground. He felt Natasha put her arm around him and he did the same with her.

The church had been crowded, mostly with people who had read about the incident and felt a need to show compassion.

The news media made up the rest of the crowd. He saw Holly clutching Jenny to her side. They look so all alone...

He thought of Charlie in intensive care. Maybe just as well. To see him sitting here ... in a wheelchair at his father’s grave ... I couldn’t handle it.

As the casket was lowered deeper into the earth, he heard Susan sob and instinctively put his other arm around her shoulders, but felt Danny’s arm and withdrew his own. He glanced down at Tiffany, who was clinging to her mother’s leg. Susan was holding Jimmy close to her breast and Jack knew Tiffany felt left out. He nudged her and held out two fingers. It made him feel better when she latched on.

At the conclusion to the service, Jack, Natasha, and the O’Reillys walked down the street toward their cars. Jack’s cellphone vibrated and he answered.

“Oh, I say, ol’ chap, who have I reached here?”

“Jack Taggart.”

“Dreadfully sorry, I think I have the wrong number.”

Jack hung up and saw Holly approaching. She was pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair and Jenny was walking beside her. She gestured for Jack to wait.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I appreciated seeing at least one face in the crowd that I recognized.”

Jack introduced Holly and Jenny to Natasha, Danny, and Susan.

Holly looked at the elderly woman and said, “This is Jack’s mom. Mom, this is...” She stopped, not knowing what to say.

Jack was taken aback for a moment as the realization sunk in, then he stuck out his hand and said, “You’re Jack Taggart’s mother...”

She politely took his hand and tearfully said, “George couldn’t be here today. He’s too sick, you know. I must get back to him.”

“I understand,” said Jack.

“I think we should go,” said Holly. “Thanks again for coming. Thanks to all of you.”

As Holly wheeled Mrs. Taggart away, Jack heard her ask, “Who was that, dearie? You didn’t tell me his name.”

Jack felt a flood of emotion at Holly’s response. It made him feel better but also caused him to bite the end of his tongue to keep from crying.

“A friend of the family, Mom. Just a friend.” Natasha kissed him on the cheek and whispered, “Guess you were right, coming here.”

Jack’s cellphone vibrated again.

“Sorry, have I dialled the same wrong number again?”

“You have,” replied Jack, and hung up. He then walked Natasha over to her car so that she could drive to work.

“Jack!” Susan yelled. “Why don’t you come to our place now? I’ll make sandwiches for lunch and you can stay for dinner. We’re having a roast with Yorkshire pudding. There will be lots.”

Jack’s reply was interrupted by a car horn. He saw that the driver had protested his annoyance at being cut off when a green van with tinted windows pulled out from the curb in front of him. A fist, with the middle finger pointing upward, briefly extended out the van window.

Jack accepted Susan’s invitation before kissing Natasha goodbye and walking back to his own car.

Albert Dawson stood beside the bed and brushed the hair back from his wife’s face. At eighty-six years of age, Esther was two years younger than her husband. She couldn’t ignore the pain in her hip any longer and reluctantly decided to follow the doctor’s advice and stay off it for a few days. It was almost noon and the warm sun coming through the window added to her dismay.

Albert saw the frustration in her face. “Won’t be long, Essie, and you’ll be up and about. I’ll make you some soup and tea when I come back. Then I’ll read to you.”

“Take your time. I’ll entertain the mailman while you’re gone,” she replied, sounding gruff.

Albert gave his wife a look of loving devotion brought on by sixty-seven years of marriage.

Esther stared back. She was legally blind and could not see his face, but she remembered the look well and sensed it. She imagined it more as his warm hand squeezed her shoulder and in the gentle kiss that followed. Albert then stood upright, using his cane to steady his balance.

In 1944, Albert had been a rear gunner in a Lancaster flying over Germany. He was smaller and thinner than most men, which suited his cramped quarters in the Lancaster just fine. Unfortunately his position also caused him to receive a fist-sized piece of shrapnel to his knee. Pain was something he had long learned to live with.

“Mailman, aye! If he’s here when I get back I’ll kick his ass.”

Essie chuckled as Albert left the room.

Moments later, Albert carefully locked the door to the house and headed down the street.

The mall was only two blocks from their house, but Albert was the sociable type. What would have been a quick stop at an ATM and a drug store for most people took him considerably longer. It was an hour before he returned home and stepped inside.

“Essie! What’s this mail bag doing in the living room?” he yelled.

“Quick, my husband’s home! Hide under the bed!” came her staged whisper from the bedroom.

Albert’s eyes twinkled as he was about to reply, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was a man with a knife.

chapter nine

Jack was glad that Natasha was off for the weekend. They spent it together, trying out a few new recipes that they paired with an appropriate wine. It gave them a chance to talk and unwind a little. For a brief period of time, Jack’s brain overruled his heart and told him that the funeral was linked to him in name only.

By Monday morning, Jack was feeling somewhat refreshed and was waiting when Louie arrived at work.

“You’re early,” commented Louie, hanging up his jacket on a hook behind the door. “How did the funeral go on Friday?”

“It went,” Jack replied, then paused and asked, “Molen ... is it set?”

“Told you I would look after it. I did. He’ll get the fake report this morning. Anti-Corruption is handling the investigation. How do you feel about the meeting with Isaac last Thursday?”

“It was okay. I agree with the game plan for Molen, but we need to tread carefully.”

Louie looked at Jack and quietly replied, “I think you need to tread very carefully.”

Connie Crane didn’t arrive at work until almost noon. She had worked all weekend. The murder of an elderly war veteran had enraged her. She knew she might as well work because she was too angry to sleep.

The media clamoured for every ugly detail they could learn. Connie was generous with what she gave them. The details would sicken the public. Anyone with a shred of humanity who knew anything should call. She was right. One tipster was not satisfied to talk to someone handling the tip line. She wanted to talk to the investigator in charge.

Connie took the call and listened to the woman. She sounded like she smoked six packs a day.

“Listen, I’m just an addict,” she said. “I know nobody will believe me, but...”

Connie rolled her eyes. Crack whore! You’re right. I’m busy; let’s get to the point. She interrupted and said, “How much money are you looking to be paid? I don’t work drugs. Not sure what a rock sells for these days.”

“Listen, bitch! I don’t want no money for this! Just because I’m a fuckin’ addict don’t mean I don’t have a conscience! I’m also dying of fucking throat cancer so I really don’t need this extra crap. If you ain’t interested in me telling you who did it, then I’ll hang up!”

“Don’t do that,” said Connie. “Please. I’m sorry. You’re right. I haven’t slept all weekend and I’m feeling grumpy. What do you have to tell me?”

Connie hastily scribbled notes as the tipster talked. Is this some hooker with a grudge against her pimp — or someone else? She took the details and handed them to a colleague to check out. Wasn’t much to go on. Just a nickname: Spider. The tipster said he hung out at a skid-row bar on East Hastings called the Black Water. A long way from where Essie fell out of bed, crawled over to her husband, and felt his gurgling windpipe. Then heard a man laugh and felt him rip the pendant off her neck...

Connie saw a sealed envelope addressed to her at the office. She opened it and read the typed letter. It was about another murder. Details of how Holly’s husband was murdered, including hold-back information that had never been revealed to the media. It talked about Jack Taggart and how people associated with him would soon be dying, along with acquaintances of other organized crime investigators. She carefully placed the letter down on her desk and reached for her phone.

The meeting was held in the boardroom and included Isaac, Louie, Jack, Danny, Connie, and several I-HIT investigators, including Randy Otto.

Jack heard what Connie had to say and briefly closed his eyes as a corner of his brain said I told you so! Holly’s husband ... Charlie ... because of you.

“Sir,” said Louie. “If Jack is transferred, this threat will only perpetuate. We’re dealing with a terrorist. It will only get worse if we capitulate.”

Isaac didn’t respond.

“The note warns anyone working in Intelligence,” said Jack. He paused to take a deep breath, then continued, “With the number of people in our office, there’s no way we could protect everyone, let alone their families and friends. Even if we did, it would effectively shut down our office. We have to continue working the way we are.”

“I agree,” said Isaac, “but I want you in particular to keep an extremely low profile until we solve this matter.”

Jack knew he would not be able to convince Isaac otherwise so said, “Yes, sir. I agree that would be prudent. The note indicates that the victim was killed simply for having my name. That doesn’t make sense. We’re dealing with someone whose ego is so big that they simply won’t admit it was a mistake.”

“I agree,” said Isaac, “and someone with an ego like that will likely try to carry through with his threat in order to authenticate this letter.”

“Sir, it goes without saying,” said Randy, “that I have every person in my office working on this.”

“Good. Don’t worry about the overtime. Consider it approved.”

Jack thought for a moment and then glanced at Danny and said, “Maybe I should go solo for a while.”

Danny shook his head and said, “I don’t scare that easy. Besides, as you said, the note threatens our whole office. We would have to either shut the whole office down or stay inside and play solitaire — exactly what this person wants.”

“Who do you suspect is behind this?” asked Isaac.

“Not Satans Wrath,” said Jack, wondering if he had blurted that out too soon.

“What other crime families have you been actively pursuing?” asked Randy.

“I’ve been working entirely on Satans Wrath.”

“If you believe they are not involved with this ... threat,” said Isaac, “who do you propose as an alternate suspect, then?”

Jack grimaced. His answer was not something that Isaac would like to hear. “I don’t know, sir.”

When the meeting was over, Jack and Danny returned to their office.

“Forget the low profile,” said Jack. “Holly’s husband was definitely murdered because of me. This just made it personal! Not to mention, we’ve got two shiploads of cocaine due any day. This isn’t the time for low profile!” Jack grabbed his jacket.

“Where we going?” asked Danny.

Jack shook his head. “I’m going alone to see Holly. Let her know that I am to blame. I’ll be back after lunch.”

Staff Sergeant Legg called Isaac’s secretary, who transferred his call.

“Hello, Harry. What’s up?”

“Just heard from my people, sir. Constable Molen is in a coffee shop right now with Lawrence Leitch’s secretary. He just handed her an envelope.”

“It would appear that Corporal Taggart was correct in his assumption,” replied Isaac. “Frankly, I’m a little surprised.”

“Why is that, sir?”

“I was in a meeting with him this morning. He was almost protective of Satans Wrath. Tried to assure me they had nothing to do with a threat the office has received. I really would like to find out what Taggart is all about.”

“The photos have been passed on to our liaison officer in Mexico City, sir. We should have an answer fairly soon.”

“Excellent. Let me know as soon as you hear from the LO.”

“Yes, sir. As for now, I’ll have my people follow the envelope that Molen handed over. I’ll notify you as soon as anything develops in that area as well.”

“Holly doesn’t live here anymore,” said the landlord. “Who are you?”

Jack showed the man his police identification and was relieved that he didn’t notice his name.

“She couldn’t hack staying here after what happened. Can’t say I blame her. Didn’t mind that she didn’t give me thirty days’ notice. Feel bad about keeping her damage deposit, but the damage to the carpet wasn’t my fault.”

Jack obtained Holly’s new address and then asked, “How much was her deposit?”

“Half a month’s rent. Four-seventy-five.”

After stopping at a bank, Jack met with Holly, who was living in a one-bedroom apartment just two blocks from her previous address.

Jack was invited inside. He saw Jenny sitting on the sofa watching television with her thumb in her mouth. Holly pulled it out as she walked past and then sat at the kitchen table with Jack. Jenny immediately put her thumb back in.

“She quit doing that two years ago,” said Holly. “Just started again after...” Her voice trailed off and she looked around the apartment and said, “I know it’s not much, but it’s close to Jenny’s daycare and I can still walk to work.”

Jack leaned across the table and squeezed the top of her hand and said, “It’s only been a week. Don’t you think you should take some more time off?”

Holly pulled her hand away. “I can’t afford to. Sitting around doesn’t help. Keeping busy seems to. Between driving back and forth to visit Charlie, looking after Jenny, and going to work, I don’t have time to feel sorry for myself.”

Jack swallowed, and then said, “Our office received an anonymous letter this morning. It looks like your husband was murdered by mistake. It should have been me.” Jack knew his voice sounded shaky. He put his palms down on the kitchen table in an effort to stop himself from trembling.

Holly just looked at him and didn’t speak.

“Did you hear me?” asked Jack.

“Yes,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. “It wasn’t something I didn’t know. My husband was a good man. It wasn’t a robbery. It had to be you. I’m glad that you know it too. Maybe now you’ll find out who did it.”

Jack paused and glanced at Jenny for a moment before turning his attention back to Holly. “I think I knew it the first night I met you. I could see you were decent people, but it ... it was ... I didn’t want to admit that I was responsible.”

Holly stared at him as she asked, “What did the letter say? Why would someone commit murder and then write to the police? Are they thinking of confessing?”

“No. They indicated that if our office keeps doing our job, then other police officers or people they love or know will be murdered. I work on an intelligence unit for organized crime. There are lots of potential groups of suspects.”

“You mean to say that the people who murdered my husband are also threatening the police?”

“Exactly.”

“They must be insane! How do they expect to get away with that?”

“If I have anything to do with it, they won’t.”

“Quite a few people in your office?”

“Quite a few.”

“All with different names, I suppose. Like Smith, Adams, Jones, or whatever.”

“Not exactly but ... what are you getting at?”

“That enough people in Vancouver share names with people you work with that it would be ludicrous to try and protect them all. You’re not to blame for what happened to my family. Do you know that there are at least a half-dozen J. Taggarts listed in the phone book in the lower mainland? Except for you, mine might have been the only Jack.”

“I’m not listed in the phone book.”

Holly paused and then said, “That figures. But you see what I mean. Taggart isn’t even that common of a name.”

“Maybe that was the problem.”

“Maybe.” Holly reached across the table and patted Jack’s hand. “I admit that a few days ago I felt like smashing you in the face. Especially when I found out about Charlie. I know it was really mean of me to call you to the hospital that day.”

“It’s okay. I wanted to know.”

“But the way I told you ... that must have been awful.”

“Don’t worry about me. I understand your anger.”

“It wasn’t just you. I have moments where I feel angry at the whole world. That day you just happened to be a convenient target to lash out at. In my heart I know it’s not your fault.”

Funny, in my heart I think it is my fault...

“What I guess I’m trying to say is that I’m not blaming you. I just want you to catch them.”

Jack felt like some of his sorrow had been lifted, but it didn’t ease his stress — nor his own anger. He put his other hand on top of hers and said, “Thank you. I promise ... I will get them.”

Jack left the apartment after promising Holly he would keep her informed as best he could. She assured him that she would call if she needed help and thanked him for delivering the envelope from her previous landlord.

“Something to do with it being covered by insurance,” said Jack.

“Hey, Connie, that name you asked me to check — Spider — got something on him.”

Connie took the report and saw that it was an Intelligence report submitted last year by Jack Taggart. It described an individual he identified only as Spider who was a low-level speed dealer in the Black Water Hotel. Jesus Christ! Did Taggart know the war vet?

Jack had just arrived back at his office when Connie entered.

“You hear the news about the war vet murdered on Friday?” asked Connie.

“Heard about it on the news.”

“Albert Dawson. His wife’s name is Essie. Do you know them?”

“No. Why?”

“I’ll tell you why. We’re approaching close to a hundred murders a year in the lower mainland. Do you know how many murders last year took place at the front door when the victim had just arrived home?”

“No.”

“None. Last week, in a period of five days, we’ve had two.”

“What’s it got to do with me?”

“You’re connected to both murders!”

Jack felt stunned. “I’ve never met this Dawson fellow! I’m sure of it. If he was murdered because someone thought he was my friend, then they’re completely wrong!”

Connie gave Jack a copy of the report he submitted last year about Spider.

“Sure, I know him,” admitted Jack. “We met last year when I worked undercover in the Black Water. Doing an Intelligence probe. Bought an ounce of speed off him. Never did find out who he really was. I was after someone else. Spider was just a stepping stone.”

Connie told him about her phone call from some raspy sounding hooker who swore Spider killed the vet.

“Spider doesn’t even know I’m a cop. I’m sure he didn’t do both murders,” said Jack. “Besides, he should remember what I look like.”

“Holly’s husband didn’t look that much different than you. He was holding his baby in front of him. The killers were wearing visors. They might not have been able to see all that clearly.”

“Spider is no professional. He could donate his brains to the field of scatology.”

“So he could be dumb enough to kill the wrong guy? Like Holly’s husband?”

“Dumb, yes. But not sophisticated enough to pack a piece with a silencer. Didn’t I hear on the news that the vet was stabbed?”

“He was. Small amount of money and a piece of jewellery taken.”

“That’s something Spider would do, but Holly’s husband was a professional hit. Robbery wasn’t the motive there. This bit about being killed at the front door is a coincidence.”

“And you said that it was a coincidence that your name matched Holly’s husband’s.”

Jack sighed but didn’t respond. “When you were working in the Black Water, wasn’t that to work your way up to someone connected with Satans Wrath?”

“Yes. It worked, but that was several steps above Spider.”

“Maybe some of those steps have since disappeared. Spider could be more connected than you realize.”

Jack shook his head and said, “I don’t think so, but I’ll go down to the Black Water right now and find out.”

“This is what you meant when you told Isaac you would keep a low profile?”

“I said it would be prudent to keep a low profile. I didn’t say that I was prudent!”

Connie smiled, then said, “Guess it’s your neck. I’d appreciate you coming with me to identify him.”

“You’d be made in there. Let me go in alone. Pair up with Danny and wait in a parkade across the street. If Spider’s not there, I could wait or ask around without drawing heat.”

“That is one sleazy hotel, but if you’re okay with that, then so am I. When you find him, let us know and we’ll come in and grab him.”

“Do you have any evidence on this case?”

“Not really. He did take some cash and a gold pendant in the shape of a heart. It was engraved on the back from when Albert and Essie got married. He ripped it off her neck. Being blind probably saved her life.”

“If Spider did it, I doubt that he’ll be carrying it around with him. With all the heat he might even be afraid to pawn it right now.”

“If he is as dumb as you say, maybe I can get him to confess.”

“Right. You know how that goes these days. He’ll be sitting on the lap of some legal aid lawyer. How about DNA or prints?”

“No prints. Recovered a single hair that we can’t identify. Could be from the perp, but it could also be from someone else. Grab Spider and hope we get a match.”

Jack smiled politely, then turned and grabbed his jacket.

Connie stared after him. The son of a bitch has no intention of grabbing Spider!

chapter ten

Jack, Danny, and Connie were leaving the office when Danny saw Elvis Secord approaching and whispered, “Uh-oh. ACU.”

“You got a moment, Jack?” asked Elvis. “You too, Danny? It would be better if we talked in Louie’s office.”

Connie smiled and said, “Take your time, Jack. A moment with Internal Affairs usually means an hour. I’ll just sit at your desk and browse through your briefcase while I’m waiting.”

“It’s Anti-Corruption,” muttered Elvis under his breath as he turned and headed for Louie’s office. When Louie, Jack, and Danny were listening, Elvis told them about Molen.

“We did surveillance. Had people from our unit and I-HIT. Molen met Leitch’s secretary in a coffee shop at noon. He gave her a large envelope and left.”

“You follow the envelope?” asked Louie.

“Both. We split up the surveillance teams. Some went with Molen and the rest stayed with the envelope. Molen returned to the office and the secretary went to a park and handed the envelope to Leitch.”

“Which park?” asked Jack.

“Nelson Park. Corner of Nelson and Thurlow. She then waited while Leitch took a walk in the park. He showed the envelope to an unidentified man, then returned and gave it back to his secretary. She then took it to her bank and put it in her safety deposit box.”

“The guy in the park didn’t get a copy of the report?” asked Jack.

“No, but it was pretty short. Juicy enough, but short. Might have been able to remember what was in it.”

Jack nodded and said, “Well I’m sure that the guy in the park was either Damien or another Satans Wrath member who goes by the name of Pussy Paul.”

“One of them a dark guy with a British accent?” asked Elvis.

“No.”

“I walked past when they were meeting. I’m sure I heard him say ‘jolly good.’ Then they looked at me real hard and I just kept going. I’m hoping I didn’t get burned.”

“I hope not too,” said Jack. “Let me show you some pictures.”

Elvis spent the next half-hour looking through pictures of Satans Wrath. “Sorry,” he said, “don’t believe it’s any of these. The fellow was quite dark. Maybe Indo. We’ll do another report for Molen tomorrow. See what happens then.”

“Good luck,” replied Jack. “Is Laura still around? Or is she off to Bangkok or someplace again?”

“She’s home. Why?”

“Nothing. Just tell her I said hello.”

East Hastings was swarming with a variety of the drug addicts, low-level dealers, pimps, muggers, and prostitutes who laid claim to the area. Drug overdoses, murders, and AIDS took a severe toll, but the population continued to grow.

Jack felt dirty just walking into the Black Water Hotel. Even the regulars considered it a dirty, dangerous place. I’ll be showering tonight as soon as I get home. Maybe after the first shower, Natasha will join me for the second...

The place had not changed any since last year. Pot lights marked a stage in the centre of the bar where a stripper was performing. She wore only a variety of tattoos and stood gyrating her crotch against a pole that ran up to the black ceiling before disappearing amongst the broken cardboard tiles. She didn’t have much of an audience.

Jack sauntered to the rear of the bar where the pool tables were located. He didn’t see Spider but did recognize the face of someone he had continually lost money to when he played pool last year. The man recognized him and was eager to continue making money.

The waitress came along a few minutes later. She also recognized him but didn’t know his name. “Hey! Mister Kokanee, right?” she said.

Jack smiled. Like most waitresses, she knew her clients by what they drank.

“Haven’t seen ya around for a while.” she said.

“Ya, you know. Been travelling around the world. Staying in my penthouse suites as I go.”

The waitress laughed, then said, “Good one. You’ll be able to drop me a tip then.”

Halfway through losing at pool, Jack casually asked if Spider had been around.

“Was here about an hour ago, don’t know where he went.”

Jack continued to sip beer and continued to lose at pool. Numerous hookers made eye contact with him but a subtle shake of his head indicated he wasn’t interested. His mind drifted to what Elvis had told him about Leitch’s contact in the park. Is Leitch playing both sides? Wanting to represent the Indos and the bikers? Dangerous territory for a lawyer to be in.

Spider did not return and it was long past midnight when Jack arrived home. Natasha was sleeping so he quietly slipped into the shower. When he stepped out to reach for a towel, she was standing in the doorway wearing a fluffy white bathrobe. “Remember me?” she asked.

“You sort of look familiar. Did you follow me home from the Black Water?”

“Noooo. Guess again.”

“Your face is familiar, but I’m not sure. Maybe if I was to see a little more of you.”

“Like this?” said Natasha, slipping the robe off her shoulders and letting it droop to reveal the tops of her breasts.

“Exactly ... but I still can’t quite put my finger on it.”

The bathrobe fell around her feet and Jack took a moment to reflect upon how beautiful she was ... and how lucky I am that she loves me.

“Perhaps you can’t put your finger on it,” said Natasha, “but it would appear that another part of your body is rising to the challenge.”

Their bed was only a few steps away, but it was a few steps too far. They made love on Natasha’s bathrobe. When they were finished, Natasha snuggled in with her head on Jack’s chest. He covered her with part of her robe, and then they both fell asleep.

In the morning Natasha put on a pot of coffee. She did not have to be at work until after lunch. She was pleased that she had convinced Jack to spend the morning with her.

Jack walked into the kitchen and used the phone to call Danny. Susan answered and said that Danny was in the shower.

“Tell him that we’re not starting work until one-thirty today,” said Jack.

“Great. I’ve got shopping to do and he can look after Tiff and Jimmy for me.”

“You say he’s in the shower?” said Jack, loud enough for Natasha to notice. “Hang on, I should let you speak with Natasha. She’ll tell you what you should do when he gets out.”

“Jack! Damn it!” said Natasha, as Jack tried to pass her the phone. “No! You are such a turkey!”

“A turkey?” Jack started to laugh, then said, “If I’m a turkey, then so are you for marrying me!”

It had been too long, decided Natasha, since she had seen him laugh. She laughed as well. Not so much over what Jack said, but simply because their life seemed normal again ... at least for now.

They had a leisurely breakfast and Jack told Natasha about his visit with Holly yesterday and her response to what he had told her.

“Now you know it’s not your fault,” commented Natasha.

“Part of my brain tells me that. Sometimes another part makes me question the consequences of what I do.”

“You do what you think is right. You weren’t born with crystal balls ... thank heavens.”

Jack smiled and said, “I know. Things just don’t turn out as I plan sometimes. I need to think more about potential consequences.”

“How about the potential consequences of another shower?”

It was mid-afternoon when Elvis arrived and motioned for Jack and Danny to follow him to Louie’s office.

Elvis ignored Louie’s greeting and said, “Things didn’t go well. This morning Molen received the second report and delivered it to the secretary. Then he started to act real kinky. Maybe burned the surveillance. Later when the secretary showed the report to Leitch he sent a note on his BlackBerry and then burnt the report in a garbage can.”

“Son of a bitch!” said Danny. “Leitch and Satans Wrath are on to us! They’ll change how they get the info.”

“This could draw some heat on our source,” added Jack.

“Listen, fellows,” said Elvis, “I’m really sorry if these guys burned our surveillance. I feel pretty bad about it.”

“I’ve been burned on surveillances too,” said Jack. “It happens. It was a chance we took when we decided to try this route. I’m not blaming you.”

“Appreciate that.”

“What are your plans now?” asked Louie.

“I’m going to talk with Legg and recommend that we back off him for a little while. I’ve checked his file. He has a history of alcohol-related incidents. Maybe people won’t put a lot of faith in his paranoia.”

“Is he married?” asked Jack.

“Was. Divorced four years ago. No children. What about the other leaks? Anything more on the narc who was recruited?” asked Elvis.

Jack shook his head and then said, “Did you ask Laura for suggestions?”

“We usually agree not to discuss work at home, but this time I made an exception. She said she doesn’t know.”

It was early evening when Jack walked back into the Black Water. He felt a surge of adrenalin when he saw Spider sitting with a hooker near the pool tables. He walked directly up to him and sat down.

“Remember me?” asked Jack, leaning across the table.

Spider looked a little surprised but sat back in his chair and said, “Yeah, I remember you. Where ya been? You lookin’ to score?” he added, before Jack could respond.

Surprised by my abruptness, but not scared. Just as I thought. He’s not involved with anything to do with Holly’s husband.

“Hey, Mister Kokanee! Another?”

Jack nodded to the waitress and tried to turn his attention back to Spider but was interrupted once more by the tap of a pool cue on his shoulder.

“Hey, good buddy! Want a chance to win your money back?”

“Maybe later,” said Jack. When the man left, he looked back at Spider and said, “I’m lookin’ for some-thin’, but...” He stopped and gave a subtle nod toward the hooker sitting beside Spider.

Spider waved a hand for Jack to relax and said, “Don’t worry about Ophelia here. She’s solid. What do you want? Crystal meth?”

“Not now,” replied Jack. “Do need to talk to you in private.”

“It’s okay, guys,” said Ophelia, her voice sounding hoarse. “I’m gonna hit the street for a while. Can’t even afford a smoke right now,” she added, harshly.

Her raspy voice was not lost on Jack. She’s the tipster who called Connie!

“So what ya after?” Spider asked before looking past Jack and yelling, “Hey! Freddy! Hang on!”

Jack turned and saw a man on the other side of the bar yell, “I’m leavin’.”

Spider looked at Jack and said, “Hang on. Be right back.” He then walked out of the bar with Freddy.

Jack stayed where he was and the hours slowly went by without Spider returning. Jack decided not to play pool tonight and sat waiting. He watched three men, all wearing cheap sports jackets, stagger inside and take a seat closest to the stage. Two had their ties loosened around their necks while the third man had his tie half hanging out the side pocket of his sports jacket. As the night wore on, their catcalls became louder. Occasionally, one or the other would throw loose change at the strippers.

“How ya doin’?” croaked Ophelia, taking a chair beside him.

“Doin’ fine. Waiting for Spider. Know where he went?”

Ophelia shrugged and said, “Nope.” She pointed to one of the three men hassling the stripper and said, “See the fat guy there?”

“Yeah.”

“Flashed his wallet when he bought the last round of beer. Figure he’s got at least forty bucks in it. Seein’ as you’re a friend of Spider’s, thought I might let you in on it. We’re gonna jump him in the alley. Could maybe use a man. Want in? We’ll split it three ways.”

Jack shook his head and said, “Thanks. Appreciate the offer but I don’t need any cash at the moment.”

“Suit yourself,” said Ophelia.

Jack watched her speak with others in the bar. Eventually she ended up at a table talking to a skinny junkie. Fellow looks like he’s about to die at the ripe old age of twenty-two. Then both of them got up and walked past Jack a few steps to the fire escape door at the rear. They stepped outside, letting a girl into the bar as they did.

It didn’t appear to bother any of the clientele that the girl was about twelve years old, but it bothered Jack. He had seen child prostitutes before, but that didn’t make it any easier. He watched her head straight to the fat man and bend over and whisper in his ear. Then she knelt beside him and ran her hand slowly up the inside of his thigh. Moments later, the girl walked out the back door.

The fat man leaned forward and said something to his two friends. They all laughed, and then the fat man stood up and made his way toward the back door.

Should I bump into him and pick a fight? Deck him and save him from being another victim in the alley? Jack felt his frustration grow. Who is the real victim here? Him ... or the girl?

“To hell with you, asshole,” said Jack under his breath as the man staggered past him. Jack watched as he opened the rear door, blinking his eyes and staring into the darkness.

Immediately a tire iron smashed his face. The sound of his skull crunching above his eye and upper cheekbone was slightly audible. Before he could collapse, a hand appeared out of the darkness, grabbing his collar and jerking him off the back step. The door swung shut.

God! They didn’t even wait for him to step outside! He didn’t even get a chance to yell!

Jack was no stranger to violence, but the sudden brutality in this instance caught him by surprise. Must not show my feelings... He looked around the bar. Some of the junkies were looking to see if anyone would react. Several glanced in his direction. He smiled and held his beer up in a silent toast before taking a sip.

Minutes later, Ophelia and the skinny junkie walked in through the front of the hotel and went straight to a table where a dealer had been busy all night. The skinny junkie hadn’t bothered to wipe the spray of blood off his face. Jack watched them make an exchange under the table.

He could feel the knot in his stomach tighten as the crunch of the man’s skull continued to echo in his own head. The only ones who hadn’t noticed the attack were the two drunk friends up near the stage. One jostled his buddy with his elbow as he stood up and put some money between his teeth. The stripper squeezed her breasts with her hands to grip the money and take it from his mouth.

“Hey! You’re still here,” said Spider, sitting back down in his chair. “What’s up?”

Jack’s thoughts returned to the reason he was there. “I’m lookin’ for a piece. Have to have it by the day after tomorrow at the latest.”

“Don’t have a gun.” Spider paused as the waitress yelled that it was last call, and then he asked, “What’s the rush? Maybe I could help ya if I thought it was worthwhile.”

“I’ve been bangin’ this chick for about four months now. She’s kinda high class. Got lots of money and a rich husband.”

“I’m listenin’.”

“She wants him dead. Said there’s ten Gs in it for me.”

“Ten grand!”

“Keep your voice down,” said Jack, looking suspiciously around.

“Why in two days?”

“It’s her birthday. She’s gonna take the ferry over to Victoria in the morning to visit her mom. Her husband works at home by himself. Does some sort of bookkeeping thing. I’ve sort of been jerking her around for a couple of months. Now she says if it’s not done, she’ll find someone else. I swore I would do it.”

“What’s been takin’ ya so long? Tryin’ to work up the courage to do it?”

Jack looked down at the table as he toyed with his beer and said, “Yeah, I guess. Figure if I get a piece I could just pop him through the window and run. You come up with a piece and I’ll pay ya a grand for it.”

“Oh, man! That ain’t the way to do it! You gotta get up close and personal. Popping him through a window ... you could miss or maybe just wing ’im. Look him right in the eye and take him out. That way ya know ya got him.”

“I don’t know if I could ... I mean, I think my way is better.”

“Forget the piece! You should use a blade. Knock on his fuckin’ door, an’ when he opens it, thrust deep into his lungs, just under his rib cage. Twist hard a couple of times and pull out. It’ll knock the air out of his lungs and he won’t be able to yell. He’ll grab his gut and bend over. Then bring it up and do his throat. No fuckin’ noise. No gun goin’ off to freak out the neigh-bours. I tell ya, that’s the way it should be done.”

Jack put his hand up to partially cover his eyes and said, “Oh, man. I don’t think I could do that. I need a piece.”

Spider smiled and said, “Just wait here. I’ll do some checkin’. I know everyone in here. If there’s one around, I’ll find out.”

Jack watched as Spider quickly moved amongst a few tables, occasionally glancing back at Jack. Two people at different tables glanced at their watches. Spider is just asking them the time, pretending to look. It was what Jack had hoped he would do. He really didn’t want him coming back with a gun. The hook is set.

Jack went into the men’s room and used his cell-phone to make a call.

A groggy Elvis answered. “Yeah, she’s here. Just a minute.” In the background Jack could hear Elvis say, “Hon, wake up, it’s Jack Taggart.” A moment later, Laura was on the line.

“You offered to help,” said Jack.

“What’s up?” asked Laura, checking the time. It was after one.

“Need a quick undercover tomorrow.”

“I’ve got court in the afternoon. This the guy who killed your namesake?”

“No, I’m fairly certain it’s the guy who did the war vet.”

“Oh, man! Glad to be a part of that! What do you need?”

“A girlfriend at about ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Won’t take long.”

Laura sighed and then asked, “A bimbo?”

“No, a couple levels above. Play the bitch. I want him controlled.”

“Waking me up this time of night ... that should come easy tomorrow.”

Jack returned to his seat as Spider came up to him. Spider said he couldn’t find a gun, but he was able to convince Jack to let him meet Jack’s girlfriend tomorrow morning at ten.

Jack checked his watch as he left the bar. It had been twenty minutes since the sound of a crunching skull had started echoing in his head. He crossed the street to the parking garage and jogged up to the second level. He told Connie and Danny about his meeting with Spider and described Spider’s recommendation on how to murder someone.

“It’s him,” said Connie. “That is exactly how Albert Dawson was killed. We’ve never released that information. Nobody knows that except the killer.”

“Good,” said Jack, still distracted by what he knew was in the alley behind the hotel.

“Jack!” continued Connie. “This is great! You’ve got the son of a bitch! I had a feeling that you had something up your sleeve.”

“Laura will do a number on him tomorrow morning,” replied Jack. “Then he will be...” The sounds of sirens and a police car racing past, accompanied by squealing tires as it turned at the corner and then again into the alley behind the bar, interrupted Jack’s conversation.

“Wonder what’s going on?” said Danny, as both he and Connie looked at Jack.

Jack shrugged to indicate that he didn’t know.

chapter eleven

It was nine-thirty in the morning when Jack and Laura walked into the coffee shop and took a seat. Jack ordered a coffee, black. Laura ordered tea.

“So tell me,” said Jack. “What’s it like, you being a narc while being married to someone in Internal?”

“Elvis is on the Anti-Corruption Unit.”

“Right. ACU ... the serious stuff members are investigated for. IA’s big brother.”

“You got it.”

“Do you walk around the house constantly checking to see if he is watching you? Come on, a narc and ACU ... that’s like trying to mix oil and vinegar.”

Laura chuckled and said, “Actually, that makes a good salad dressing. I think the expression is oil and water.” Laura took a sip of tea and said, “You’re right, our marriage is a little like an oxymoron. I’m not sure about ACU, but I’m sure half of the files IA has come from Drug Section.”

“Pretty wild bunch sometimes. Work hard, play harder.”

“You ought to know. As I recall, you were one of the wildest when you were on the section. I was a little freaked out the first time I met you.”

“Come on, I wasn’t that wild.”

“You were! Tell me, are you still drinking tequila?”

“No,” replied Jack. “Decided it was too hard on my stomach. I’ve switched to olive soup.”

“Olive soup?” Laura paused, then smiled and said, “More commonly known as martinis.”

Jack nodded.

“Sounds like that new wife of yours has brought a little culture into your life.”

Jack smiled but didn’t reply.

“You’re right about Drugs,” said Laura. “It hasn’t changed much. Sometimes I think IA is needed to tone things down a bit. Unfortunately, ACU is also needed on occasion.”

“Hope you know I was just kidding about Elvis. Believe me, I know they’re needed. I gave Elvis a little work just the other day.”

Jack saw Laura look at him sharply and quickly added, “Not me! I mean I gave him a good target. Someone leaking information to a biker lawyer.”

“Leitch?”

“That’s the one. I hope Elvis nails him.” “If someone is dirty, Elvis will get him. He’s good at what he does.”

“Your husband seems like a good guy ... just don’t tell anyone I said that. Ruin my rep.”

Laura snickered and then said, “He’s a great guy.” She stirred her tea and said, “I have to admit that the work has affected our relationship a little. We always used to talk and made a rule not to go to bed with any unresolved issues. Now, with the differences in our work, minor stunts that some of the narcs pull, we try not to discuss our jobs. I like to think I’m a good operator, but I can’t fool Elvis. He’s pretty observant. He picks up on things. Seems to know whether I’m upset with work or with life.”

“With life?”

“I was upset the other night and tried to hide it. Know that old expression ‘a penny for your thoughts’?”

Jack nodded.

“We use it sometimes. When I went to go to bed the other night I found a penny on my pillow. Elvis just looked at me ... then I lost it and cried. I hadn’t wanted to talk about it, but it was good that I did. I was upset that I had started my period. It was late and this time I thought I was pregnant for sure. He just held me and we talked. Think we’ll go the adoption route.”

Laura stared into the bottom of her teacup and added, “I really love the guy.” She was quiet for a moment before asking, “So how’s it been going with you? Your face looks a little gaunt. Actually you look awful. Everything okay at home?”

“Natasha and I are getting along great. I love her so much. Still feel like we’re on our honeymoon ... even better. More relaxing than the honeymoon was.”

“The job, then?”

Jack nodded. “It bothers me that a family was destroyed because some psycho thought it was me. They were a great family. Now Holly’s on her own, barely scraping by and trying to raise a four-year-old. Both of them are suffering from post-traumatic stress. Meanwhile, her other baby is in intensive care and will end up in a wheelchair when he’s big enough to handle one.”

Laura’s face showed her sorrow. “Jack, I don’t know what to say to —”

“Hang on, here he comes,” said Jack.

Laura took a deep breath and assumed her new role. “He does have an attitude, doesn’t he?” she whispered, as Spider swaggered over.

Jack smiled and gestured for Spider to sit down.

“So this is him!” said Laura sarcastically. “Doesn’t look like you described!”

Spider looked a little taken aback, but before he could respond, Laura said, “So you two have known each other for over ten years, is that right?”

Jack quickly interjected, “He’s okay, sweetie. Honest, we go way back!”

“Really? Tell you what, babe, I’ll talk to him alone for a few minutes. Go sit on the other side for a bit.”

Jack hesitated, and then Spider leaned over and whispered in Jack’s ear, “It’s okay, man. It’ll be better this way.”

“You sure?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, I can handle her. I trust my instincts.”

Jack took his coffee and moved to another table. He watched as Spider talked earnestly with Laura. Less than two minutes later, Spider reached into his pocket and handed Laura a gold chain and heart-shaped pendant.

Laura motioned with her finger for Spider to lean forward so she could whisper something to him. When he did, she grabbed him by the hair and smashed his face into the table while sticking the barrel of her 9mm in his ear.

Jack was on his feet, as were Connie and three of her colleagues who had been sitting at a couple of other tables.

They need not have rushed. Spider was too shocked to move. He would never trust his instincts again.

Late that afternoon, back at the office, Connie called Jack to thank him.

“The dumb shit gave Laura the pendant he stole. Told her it was a birthday present for her. Tried to file off the numbers on the back but the lab will pull them up. He’s confessing to everything he’s done, hoping to get concurrent time.”

“That’s good. Obviously he doesn’t have legal aid yet.”

“He waived it. The judge will probably be pissed off that we didn’t force him to get one. Makes it easy for his lawyer to say he was intimidated and rule it inadmissible. Hope the DNA pans out. I know his lawyer will tell him to say he bought the pendant from someone else.”

“You’ve still got Laura and me to give evidence.”

“Yeah, but you know how that goes. They’ll say he made up the story, either to impress you or because he was scared of you.”

“The normal defence to an undercover operation on a murderer. If the jury believes it, they deserve to live with spiders.”

“I know. Still, I prefer to see justice.”

“Me too. Sounds like you’ve done everything you can. Let’s hope the DNA is a match.”

“That would be nice. Unfortunately your good friend Spidey had nothing to do with killing Holly’s husband.”

“I figured that.”

“He said he hopped the commuter train to go to the suburbs and do some break-ins. He saw Albert go to an ATM and picked him because he was old. Said he needed the money because the price of speed went up after all those labs got taken down last week.”

Jack briefly closed his eyes and massaged his temple with one hand. So if I hadn’t taken the labs down, Albert Dawson would still be alive...

“Anyway, I have one other thing to ask,” continued Connie. “Don’t know if you heard the news this morning on the radio, but there was a murder outside the Black Water last night. I called City. That was what the sirens were about when we were leaving. It had to have happened when you were there. Do you know anything that would help?”

Jack let out a long sigh, then said, “I might have a possible lead. Let me check it out. I’ll pop down there tomorrow. There might be someone I could chat with.”

chapter twelve

The next afternoon, Jack told Danny he had some personal business to take care of and left the office. He stopped at a red light and thought about why Albert Dawson had died.

A blast from a horn behind him caused him to jerk, and the tires squealed as he drove through the intersection. When he arrived at the Black Water, he parked in the rear alley. If Ophelia isn’t here, I’m not waiting around!

Jack strolled through the bar. He saw Ophelia and motioned her to come and sit with him at table near the rear exit.

“Yeah, what do ya want?” she asked.

“Have you heard from Spider?”

“Naw. Haven’t seen ’im yet today.”

“You’re not going to,” said Jack, showing her his identification.

“Oh, fuck,” said Ophelia, her voice sounding like the blade of a snow truck on a bare street.

“You know why I’m here?”

“Can’t believe I was that stupid to ask you to pipe that guy with me. That’s my fuckin’ luck!” she added.

“The young girl with you. What’s her —”

“Aw, man, leave her be. She had nothing to do with it. Didn’t know what was going on.”

“Yeah, right. Do you think I’m blind?”

“Come on, man. Give her a break. She’s just a kid. Here, take me,” she said, holding her wrists out over the table to be handcuffed. “I won’t cause a fuss.”

“I know you’re the one who dropped a quarter on Spider.”

Ophelia’s eyes widened. “Fuck! Don’t say that too loud,” she said, glancing around. Then she admitted, “Yeah. Glad you got him.” She slowly put her hands down and then asked, “You did get him, right?”

“We did. So tell me, why did you turn him in ... for free?”

“He’s scum. What the news said he did to that old guy.... Just because I’m an addict doesn’t mean I don’t give a shit about people.”

“Where was your compassion when you killed an innocent man two nights ago?”

“Innocent! That fucker wasn’t innocent! You see the age of the girl he wanted to fuck?”

Jack nodded.

“And she was older than some of the ones he’s had. Do you know what that’s like for a kid to go through?”

“I can only imagine.”

“Yeah? Well you’re lucky, cuz I do know what it’s like to turn tricks at that age!”

“That’s what I figured,” said Jack.

“Yeah, well ... life sucks.” She held out her wrists again and said, “Go ahead. For the time I have left, maybe three meals a day won’t hurt.”

Jack shook his head and said, “Child molesters aren’t high up on my Christmas list. As far as I’m concerned, justice has been served. See you around.”

Jack stood up to go, and Ophelia said, “You mean you’re not going to arrest me?”

“No, but keep this conversation between the two of us. Have a nice day.”

“I owe ya one,” she said.

“Yeah, I’ll hold my breath waiting for the phone to ring,” said Jack. He pushed open the rear door to step outside.

A woman with two preschool children stood in the back alley. She was weeping while placing a bouquet of flowers on the ground.

“Ophelia, come here.” Jack motioned her over.

Ophelia came to the door and looked out.

They listened as the woman explained to the children that Daddy was in heaven now.

“Fuck,” whispered Ophelia. “Her ol’ man paid extra to ride bareback. That’s why he liked them young. Thought he wouldn’t get AIDS. What a chump. I know the kid has it. Maybe you should tell his ol’ lady there to get checked.”

Jack watched as Ophelia turned and walked back to her table.

He was just stepping out the door when he received a call on his cellphone.

“Hi ... uh, it’s Holly,” she said, not wanting to say his name. “You said you would help me, so...”

“What is it, Holly?”

“I’m sorry. I’m at the hospital but my car won’t start. Then I went and locked my keys inside. Jenny needs to be picked up from daycare. They won’t wait. Can you ... I don’t know what to do.”

“Stay at the hospital. Call the daycare and tell them I’ll pick up Jenny. We’ll meet you at the hospital. If we can’t get it started, I’ll give you a ride home.”

“You sure? If you’re busy...”

“A taxi would cost a fortune and buses would take longer. I’m not busy. I’m really glad you called. I need a break from work.”

“Thanks.” She gave Jack directions to the day-care. When she was finished, she said, “There’s one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Is it okay if I don’t call you Jack? Like ... do you have a nickname that you wouldn’t mind being called?”

“My middle name is Bruce. Sometimes my friends call me J.B.”

“Like the scotch?”

“Yes, like the scotch,” said Jack, watching as the woman led the children down the alley.

“Well, guess I’m your friend ... so that’s what I’ll call you.”

Jack paused for a moment, then said, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“I think you know.”

Jack’s thoughts were on Ophelia and the woman in the alley as he drove to the daycare. He grabbed his cell-phone and called Connie Crane.

“I checked out the Black Water regarding the guy found in the alley,” said Jack.

“Any luck?”

“Dead end.”

“Well, thanks for trying.”

“Victim Services involved with the wife?”

“I presume so. It’s a City case. He was married?”

“Yes. His wife and two kids were laying flowers where his body was found.”

“Too bad. Hope they solve it.”

“Pass on to City to have Victim Services contact the wife’s doctor. She should be checked for AIDS.”

“I know the bar is sleazy, but just for having a beer?”

“It was more than beer,” Jack said, then hung up.

Connie stared at the telephone still in her hand. Tell me again it was a dead end ... lying son of a bitch.

Jack picked Jenny up on schedule and explained that they were going to meet her mommy at the hospital.

The trip was uneventful as Jenny tried to impress Jack with everything she knew, including her ability to count and to sing nursery rhymes.

They were just pulling into the hospital lot when Jenny asked, “Are you going to be my new daddy, now?”

Jack felt a pang of guilt, then said, “No, I’m married to another lady. But if your mom says it’s okay, I could sort of be like an uncle to you.”

“What’s a dunkle?”

“Not ... never mind, there’s your mom now.”

Locked cars were something that Jack was experienced with. It took him only a few seconds to gain entry.

“Why do I even bother to lock it?” asked Holly.

“Keeps the honest people out,” replied Jack.

“Not that. I mean it’s just a piece of junk. No decent car thief would want to be seen in it.”

Jack made a quick examination under the hood and discovered that the battery was as old as the car. He told her that she would just need a boost and that he would call a tow truck. He suggested that Holly and Jenny wait in the hospital. It was rush hour and the tow truck might be a while.

Jack sat briefly in his own car to use his cellphone. A tow truck would be along in an hour, as soon as the new battery was charged. He gave them his cell number and told them to call when they arrived.

Jack met Holly in the reception area and they went to see Charlie. Jenny clung to her mother’s leg, sucking her thumb as they walked.

Jack heard Charlie before he saw him. He was under enough medication to stop him from crying, but not from whimpering.

Tears filled Holly’s eyes. She desperately wanted to pick him up and hold him, but he was still too fragile. Instead, she held his hand in hers and tried to soothe him. It was the longest hour Jack ever endured. He felt ashamed at his relief when the tow truck arrived and he hurried out ahead of Holly to look after the matter.

He was embarrassed further when Holly demanded that she pay for the boost. Jack accepted the fifteen dollars that he told her it cost.

When Jack arrived back in his own apartment parking garage, he shut off the car and sat for a moment, then reached for the sun visor. He removed the picture that Holly had given him at the hospital when she told him about Charlie’s paralysis. It was Charlie taking his first steps. Will you ever walk again? He placed the photo back in the sun visor and went to his apartment.

Natasha wasn’t about to let him retreat into his own thoughts. Dinner had barely started when she looked at him and said, “Okay, what the hell is going on? Are you upset with something I said or did? Talk to me!”

Jack looked at her and said, “It’s not you.”

“Then what is it?”

Jack’s anger flooded his brain. Doesn’t she appreciate what I’ve been going through? He put his fork down on the table and said, “Let me tell you about what has happened in the last week and a half! A husband is murdered because he had my name. I take down a bunch of speed labs and an old man is murdered because the price of speed went up! I help catch the guy who did that but let another fellow get his skull bashed in the process!”

Jack paused and returned Natasha’s stare. He felt the anger drain. “It seems that the harder I work, the more grief I bring on everybody,” he added, quietly.

Natasha was accustomed to grief and sorrow. Anger too. It didn’t matter that Jack was her husband, the man she loved. She was a professional, as was her response: “Consequences are not always easy to predict. Could you ever have predicted that Holly’s husband would be murdered?”

“No, but...”

“But shut up and listen!”

Jack opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. “So that was not your fault. Do you think whoever did that should get away with it?”

“No.”

“Good, because that person is a psychopath. Hope you stop him before it happens again.”

Me too. Stop him dead.

“As far as the labs go, how many kids might be dissuaded from taking the drug because the price has gone up? Can you tell me those consequences of your actions?”

“Of course not.”

“Now, letting a man get his skull cracked open is a little different. You told me before that you might have been able to stop it — so why didn’t you?”

“I was angry. Angry that people like him sexually exploit young girls.”

“Makes me angry as well.”

“Still don’t know if what I did was right.”

“Do you want to take a poll? Maybe half the world would say you were wrong. Maybe they all would. That doesn’t really matter. It’s what you think that counts. It is what you have to live with that is important.”

Jack thought about it for a moment, then said, “That’s not true. Your opinion counts a great deal.”

Natasha smiled slightly and said, “And it damn well should. I know you see the world in all its ugliness. Violent, unpredictable, unfair, and often unjust. You’re a really compassionate guy. You base your actions on your own experiences ... through your own eyes. I have faith that you will continue to do what is morally right. You’re a turkey, but you haven’t let me down yet.”

Jack looked down at his plate and reflected upon her words, conscious that she was still staring at him. He looked up, gave a grim smile, and said, “Thanks.”

Natasha smiled back and then said, “Now, want to ask me about my day? Being a doctor in a clinic on the east end ... a pansy like you wouldn’t last ten minutes!”

It was early Friday morning and not yet light when Jack and Danny met Lance in the cemetery.

“The next ship arrives Tuesday,” said Lance. “One metric tonne. I’m in charge of stashing it.”

“Details,” said Jack. “Precise.”

“Well, as I told ya before. We already paid $3 mil U.S. up front. That was on the first boat. Carlos put that toward this shipment when they lost the other one in San Diego. When this one arrives, Brutus and a couple of strikers will make the second half of the payment.”

“Where?” asked Jack.

“He hasn’t picked a spot yet and I might never know where. My job is to see that the dope is stashed. Tomorrow I’m gonna talk with one of my guys and tell him to rent a storage locker. On Tuesday, we’ll have an Econoline van at the dock. Once it’s loaded, I’ll have three guys take it to the storage locker and stay with it overnight. Next day it’ll be split up and sent out on deliveries.”

“Who will you order to get the locker?” asked Jack.

“One of the strikers. Maybe Silent Sam or Dragon.”

“John Dragonovich?” asked Danny. “I thought he had his full patch.”

“Not yet,” replied Lance. “He’s only been striking for a year and a half. He’s got at least another six months to go, and that’s if he’s lucky.”

“Use Silent Sam,” said Jack. “He’s the one who was busted with the labs. If there is any heat, they’ll be looking at him.”

Lance winced and said, “Ouch! I was afraid you would say that. If you take down the stash site, I’ll be burned for sure. Only me and Silent Sam will know where the locker is until it is stashed. Then nobody calls or leaves the place until the next day when the deliveries go out.”

“Thought you said there would be three guys with it?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, to ride shotgun and sit in the locker overnight. But two of ’em won’t know the location until they get there.”

“What about Damien?” asked Jack. “When will he pop his face in for a look?”

Lance shook his head and said, “Not a chance. He’s paid his dues. He won’t be anywhere near the money or the coke. When it’s done, I’m supposed to drop by his house and let him know.”

“This much coke and he doesn’t even want to see it!” said Jack. “He has to! The club will clear about $15 mil on this! You telling me he doesn’t even want to see it?”

“That’s what I’m tellin’ ya. There is no way he’ll be around any part of the action.”

“Then see to it somehow! I want him nailed!”

Lance’s voice revealed his exasperation. “You tell me, then. How do I do it? You want me to hog-tie him and throw him in the van with the dope?”

Jack’s silence told Lance that he knew involving Damien wasn’t possible.

Danny was feeling slightly euphoric as he and Jack walked back to their car. “This is great,” he said. “Don’t think we’ve ever taken down this much blow before. At least not in B.C. Wait til the narcs hear about this! We just have to figure out a way to protect our friend. Maybe do the ship as soon as it docks.”

“We’re not telling the narcs,” said Jack.

“Christ, you’re right. There’s a leak...”

“Not the leak. Damien.”

“Damien?”

“I want him.”

“Can’t be done. You heard what our friend said.”

“We have to!” yelled Jack. “I can’t go on with this hanging over my —” Jack caught himself and didn’t finish.

Danny looked silently at Jack, then said, “Go on. What is hanging over your head?”

Jack stopped walking. He stood with his head hanging down for a moment, then whispered, “I owe Damien a favour. One get-out-of-jail-free card.”

Danny’s face slowly grew redder as he realized what the favour was.

“God damn you! You found Bishop! Damien told you ... then you...” Danny didn’t finish the statement. He didn’t want to hear an admission of murder.

Jack stared at Danny for a moment and then said, “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I just wasn’t thinking about the consequences. Damien did me a favour and I promised I would do one for him someday. I’m keeping my word.”

“How? By tipping him off to something?” yelled Danny. “That won’t solve anything!”

“No. I’m going to catch him and then let him go. It’s what the courts do anyway.”

“Well, la-de-da! That’s just great, isn’t it?”

Jack didn’t respond.

Danny’s frustration was still evident in his voice. “Tell me how you plan on getting evidence on Damien, seizing a tonne of coke, and then letting him go without the brass freaking out? If you did pull it off, the brass sure as hell wouldn’t let you drop any of the charges!”

“It’s simple. Only you and I take the dope. We get the evidence to connect Damien, then I let Damien off and say we’re even.”

Danny wondered if he was supposed to laugh, but the look on Jack’s face said he wasn’t joking. “You’re bloody insane! Damn it, Jack! I can’t sleep at night as it is. I’m still having nightmares about bikers trying to ambush us ... people dying! There’s no way. You’ll get us both killed!”

“There’s a way,” said Jack. “A way to protect our friend, too.”

Danny knew that he would be sorry if he asked how. Jack will only sucker me in to helping. He turned his back and walked toward the car.

Jack trudged silently behind.

After several steps, Danny spun around and said, “So what do you have in mind?”

chapter thirteen

On Saturday at noon, Jack and Danny followed Silent Sam and watched him rent a large storage unit that was three-quarters of the way down a row of similar units. When he left, Jack rented the unit next to it. Moments later, Jack and Danny went inside their unit to look at it more thoroughly.

The storage unit was made to accommodate a truck and had a garage door at the entrance, along with a normal-sized door beside it. The inside walls were constructed of cement blocks that went from the floor to the ceiling. There were no windows but there was an overhead light.

“Perfect,” said Jack. “They have an electrical outlet.”

“Now what?” grumbled Danny.

“To the Spy Store. Now you get a lesson on video and audio installation and recording. We’ll also need bolt-cutters, a couple of short-range walkie-talkies, a drill, and a masonry bit.”

“And balaclavas,” said Danny.

“Right.”

“Shotguns too.”

“Of course. I’ll also pick up a couple of industrialsize plastic pails, some springs, and duct tape. That should be it.”

“One more thing you forgot.”

“What’s that?” asked Jack.

“Extra life insurance.”

It was nine o’clock on Tuesday night when Silent Sam opened the overhead door to the storage locker. Jack and Danny watched and recorded the event through their camera set up in the adjacent unit. Silent Sam held something inside his jacket. When he stepped inside, they saw that it was a Mac-10 machine pistol.

Dragon then backed an Econoline van into the unit. Silent Sam closed the overhead door before Dragon stepped out, along with another biker nicknamed Pan-Head. All three men carried Mac-10s. They walked to the back of the truck and opened the door, out of sight of the surveillance camera.

Jack and Danny looked at each other.

“This won’t work if they stay in the truck,” whispered Danny.

Danny was right. They needed the element of surprise. The Brushmaster shotguns with the folding stocks that they carried were deadly weapons in a close situation, but the spray of bullets from three Mac-10s would easily outgun the pump-action of the shotguns.

They both breathed a sigh of relief when the bikers brought out a folding card table with chairs and set them up in front of the truck. Luck was on their side.

Jack waited until after the storage locker was closed for the night, then crept out and used bolt-cutters to take the padlock off the front gate to the facility. Minutes later, he rejoined Danny and quietly said, “It’s time. Grab the balaclavas.”

Jack and Danny crept up to the door leading into the biker’s unit. They held their shotguns at the ready.

“On the count of three,” whispered Jack.

The noise and sight of two masked men bursting through the door with shotguns panicked everyone.

“Move and you’re dead!” yelled Jack.

Silent Sam lurched backwards, toppling his chair over as he crashed to the floor, while Dragon remained where he was, with his mouth and eyes opened wide. Pan-Head paused, then scooped his weapon from beside the table and tried to bring the barrel around to fire.

He was too late. Jack leaped forward and with a quick reverse thrust of the shotgun slammed the stock against the side of Pan-Head’s face, breaking his jaw and cheekbone while sending him crashing to the floor. He then stepped on the Mac-10, pinning it to the floor. He needn’t have bothered. It was almost a minute before Pan-Head regained consciousness. When he did, his two friends were lying sprawled face-down on the floor beside him.

While Danny provided cover, Jack plastered strips of duct tape tightly across Dragon’s and Pan-Head’s noses and the tender skin around their eyes. He then bound their hands behind their backs.

Jack pointed at Silent Sam and said in a loud voice, “Okay, I’m gonna tape you up real good, and then you’re gonna be goin’ for a ride.”

Jack peeled off a strip of pre-cut tape from the roll. All but the ends of the strip had been taped face to face with another strip of tape. The end result was a cover over Silent Sam’s eyes that was twice as thick but not sticky. He then bound Silent Sam’s arms behind his back, wrapping the tape around the shirtsleeves covering his wrists.

With the three bikers trundled up on the floor, Jack turned to Danny and said, “Okay, check out the truck.”

Danny did so, noting that the keys were still in the ignition. He went to the rear of the truck and returned with two kilos of cocaine and set them down at Jack’s feet.

“Good,” said Jack. “Now go get the device. Be fuckin’ careful you don’t drop it!”

“You’re tellin’ me!” replied Danny, disappearing out the door.

Moments later Danny returned and set two plastic pails upside down a short distance from each other on the floor. On the outside bottom of each plastic pail was a bed spring. A short section of the spring protruded inside the pail through a small hole that had been drilled in the bottom. Holes cut in the sides of the pails allowed a short stick to be used as a cross-bar to provide a base for the springs to maintain pressure.

Danny then placed a kilo of cocaine under each pail.

Jack set a walkie-talkie on the floor halfway between the two pails, then carefully helped Pan-Head to his feet and guided him over to a pail. He taped his ankles together and then sat him down on the spring.

Pan-Head tried to speak but his broken jaw told him that wasn’t such a good idea. His question was answered seconds later, when Dragon’s ankles were bound and he was placed sitting on the other pail.

“What the fuck is that under my ass?” asked Dragon. “What are you guys doin’ to us? What am I sittin’ on?”

Both Pan-Head and Dragon quit squirming when they heard Jack’s voice from the other side of the room.

“I suggest you sit still. The bombs have been activated. They have both a spring and mercury switch. I strongly suggest that neither of you move — in fact, I wouldn’t even fart.”

Pan-Head was the first to break out into a sweat. Then again, he was in a lot of pain.

Jack trundled Silent Sam into the front of the truck and made him squat on the floor under the dash before taking off his balaclava.

Danny closed the door after Jack pulled out and then crept back into their own unit to monitor Pan-Head and Dragon.

“They’re fuckin’ gone,” said Dragon. “They took Silent Sam with ’em. Jesus fuck, man! What the fuck should we do?”

Pan-Head’s panicked response was unintelligible to Danny, but apparently Dragon understood, as he said, “For sure I won’t fuckin’ move! You quit yappin’ too!”

Jack pulled over and parked the van a short distance away from the gate to Damien’s house. He put his balaclava back on and removed the tape from Silent Sam.

“I left a walkie-talkie with your two buddies back at the locker. It’s short range so the cops can’t pick it up. Tell Damien to go and get the walkie-talkie. When he does, he’ll receive a personal message. He’ll also be told how to defuse the bombs. If he doesn’t show up in exactly ninety minutes, your two friends become hamburger.”

Silent Sam hurried toward Damien’s house as Jack drove away.

Danny’s earphone crackled a few minutes later and he whispered a reply. “Yeah, Curly and Moe are still sweating it out. Both look like they took a dip in my pool. You deliver Larry?”

“It’s done. Wish I was a fly on a wall when he explains this.”

Jack parked the van in a prearranged spot and quickly got in his own car, drove back, and parked a few blocks away from the storage lockers. He walked the remaining distance.

Danny smiled and gave Jack the thumbs-up sign when he quietly entered their unit.

Damien used the full ninety-minute allotment before he showed. When he did, he had Lance, Rellik, and Silent Sam with him.

“Damn it, our friend is with them,” whispered Danny.

“I was afraid he might show up,” replied Jack. “Try and disguise your voice, but if it doesn’t work, we’ll have to come clean with him later.”

Rellik was first to gingerly open the side door and peek inside. “Jesus fuck! I don’t believe it!” He pushed the door all the way open and gestured to the rest of the group that it was okay to enter.

Jack suppressed a snicker when he saw Damien look at the tire tracks leading to the empty place the van had been parked, then at his two men sitting on plastic pails.

Damien shook his head in disgust as he walked over to Dragon’s pail. The holes holding the sticks were large enough that Damien was able to peer inside and see that the springs were tied to the sticks with pieces of wire.

“Who’s there?” Dragon nervously asked.

“I’ll tell you who’s here!” roared Damien, grabbing Dragon by the front of his shirt and jerking him off the pail.

Jack looked at Danny and whispered, “Get ready.”

Danny quietly got in the car and picked up the walkie-talkie while a din could still be heard coming from the unit next door.

Jack watched as Lance peeled the tape off Pan-Head, who held his jaw and moaned. Dragon was freed next as Damien picked up the walkie-talkie, then paced back and forth, angrily stating that he could not believe this.

Danny waited for Jack’s signal. He wished Jack would use the walkie-talkie but agreed that Damien might recognize his voice. He saw Jack wave to him and squeezed the transmit button and said, “Damien, are you there? Anyone copy?”

“Yeah, this is Damien! Who am I talking to?”

“One of the people who relieved you of something heavy.”

“You think you can get away with this?”

“Please don’t interrupt. It’s not as bad as you think. We’re willing to sell it back to you if you are interested.”

Damien lowered the walkie-talkie and looked at his men. “Whoever ripped us wants to sell it back to us! Our own fucking coke!”

His walkie-talkie spoke again: “As a gesture of good faith, I’ve left a kilo under each pail. You can check to see that I am sincere and honest.”

“Honest!” yelled Damien, gripping the transmit button. He took a couple of deep breaths, then said, “Just a minute,” and released the button. Seconds later, Damien picked up one of the kilos of cocaine.

“So,” crackled the voice that Damien so badly wanted to identify, “I’ll give you a sale price — $10 million. I’ll be in touch soon.”

“How? When will you contact me?” asked Damien. There was no response.

Damien’s face was menacing as he gripped the kilo in one hand and looked at Rellik and said, “Whoever did this is dead! These fucking guys think they can rip us off and then sell it back to us! They are fucking dead!”

He looked at Lance and said, “Who fucked us? Who knew about the stash?”

Lance swallowed, then said, “Just me and Silent Sam. Dragon and Pan-Head weren’t supposed to know until tonight.”

Silence descended as Damien looked around the room — as did everyone else.

“Who fucked us?” said Damien. “Who is responsible?”

“They wore masks,” said Dragon. “We couldn’t see who it was. Then they duct-taped us all.”

“That’s right,” said Silent Sam. “We didn’t have time to grab our pieces. Once we were taped we were screwed.”

Damien stared back at his men. One face revealed the guilty party. He turned to Rellik and gave a subtle nod of his head to indicate who was responsible.

Rellik looked at Silent Sam. At first he was confused by what Damien meant. Then he glanced at Pan-Head’s and Dragon’s red-speckled faces. The answer to who was behind this was as plain as the nose on Silent Sam’s face.

Silent Sam subconsciously put his hand up to his face. It dawned on him why his tape had not felt sticky.

Danny stepped up to the viewer with Jack just in time to see Silent Sam make a dash for the door.

The blast from Rellik’s pistol echoed like a cannon inside the room.

Silent Sam would remain forever silent. “Damn it, Rellik!” said Damien. “You shouldn’t have killed him until we found out who he was working for. Couldn’t you have just capped one in his ass?”

“Sorry, boss. Thought that’s what you meant,” replied Rellik, looking embarrassed.

“Clean it up!” Damien looked at Lance and said, “Come on. We’re out of here.”

Jack heard Danny’s breath coming in pants and saw that his mouth was opened wide, while his eyes stared at the cement wall in front of him.

“What is it?” whispered Jack. “You okay?”

Danny blinked his eyes a couple of times, then said, “We committed murder.”

“What did you think was going to happen? That he’d be asked to leave the club?”

“Jack ... his brains are oozing out onto the floor.” He gave Jack a glazed look and added, “Doesn’t this bother you?”

“Not really. I’m glad this worked. Don’t look at it as killing him. Look at it as saving our friend.”

Danny shook his head and said, “I don’t think I can handle any more of this shit.”

“You’ve handled it before.”

“As I said, I’m still having nightmares. This won’t help.”

“Danny, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this would bother you that much.”

“Well it sure as hell does!”

“Keep your voice down,” said Jack, glancing quickly at the monitor. He looked at Danny and said, “I couldn’t figure out any other way to pull this off, but I’m done now. Tomorrow I’ll look after the dope. On Thursday I’ll show Damien the evidence. If I hadn’t owed him, he’d be looking at spending the rest of his life in jail for this. The deal between him and me is over.”

“You think Damien will see it that way after what we did?”

“Why not? We seized the dope and have proof of his involvement. It might be considered a little dirty, but...”

“A little dirty?”

“This business is. If I hadn’t owed him, I would have done the same thing, except he would be in cuffs right now.”

“And Silent Sam? How would that have looked in court?”

“If you fly with the crows, expect to get shot at.”

“That’s what you would tell a judge — or a homicide investigator?”

“Guess it would be better if I said ‘Gosh, I just thought they would ask him to resign.’”

chapter fourteen

It was five in the morning when Jack stopped watching the monitor and went to nudge Danny, who was sitting in the car.

“Wake up,” he whispered.

“I was never asleep,” replied Danny.

“That’s right. You weren’t snoring. The janitorial service is packing up next door. We’ll give them a few minutes’ head start, then skedaddle before the owner arrives and sees his busted padlock and comes snooping.”

“The sooner the better.” Danny saw Jack check his BlackBerry and added, “Now what?”

“It’s from our friend. Wants to meet us. Says it’s urgent.”

“Gee, I wonder what he has to tell us,” said Danny sarcastically.

“We better meet him. Could be interesting to hear what Damien had to say.”

“You still want me to follow you out to the farm and give you a ride back after you drop the van off?”

“You bet. It won’t take long. Ben took his loader out yesterday and dug a pit. He already had some brush to burn so it won’t take long to layer it in. Speaking of which, I wonder what I owe him for a barrel of gas?”

“You could just give him a kilo or two as payment.”

Jack ignored the comment and added, “I don’t want to arrive until after Marcie has gone to school. Ben doesn’t want Liz to know either. We may as well meet our friend while we’re waiting.”

“I suppose the notion of having any sleep just never occurs to you.”

“You’re the one complaining about nightmares. Don’t sleep and you won’t have them.”

“I have them when I’m awake too,” replied Danny somewhat sullenly.

Minutes later, Jack had only driven a few blocks away from the storage locker when his BlackBerry alerted him to another message. Jack continued driving but handed his BlackBerry to Danny and said, “That’ll be our friend. Bet he wants to change the meet.”

Danny read the message and smirked.

“What is it?” asked Jack.

“If it’s from our friend, he has pretty strong feelings for you ... but he sure has you pegged right!”

Jack grabbed his BlackBerry back and read the message: Love you, Turkey!

Lance took one look at Jack and Danny and said, “Holy fuck! I can’t believe you did that!”

“Did what?” asked Jack.

“Don’t hand me the bull! I was close enough to Damien to recognize Danny’s voice. I couldn’t believe it!

I was afraid you’d reneged on our deal and were gonna come bustin’ in and arrest us when Damien picked up that key.”

“I don’t renege. Hadn’t expected you to be there. Otherwise we would have had Damien.”

“Fuck, if I’d known what was goin’ on, maybe I wouldn’t have. I was at Damien’s tellin’ him that the deal was done and went without a hitch. All of a sudden we hear Silent Sam screamin’ into the intercom.”

“Any heat in your direction?” asked Danny.

Lance gave Jack a glance and said, “No, you took care of that with Silent Sam. Rellik put one through his head-bone.”

“Yeah, we saw,” said Jack.

“You had it videoed?”

“Of course.”

“Fuckin’ Damien and a murder on film and you let ’im off all because of me! I never would have believed it!”

Danny gave Jack a sideways glance as Jack looked at Lance and said, “A deal is a deal. I was just fulfilling what I promised.”

“Man! If I ever had a doubt about trustin’ ya, it’s gone now.” Lance paused for a moment, then added, “Just remind me to never get on your bad side. I don’t want to end up like Silent Sam.”

“We just have to catch Damien again. Next time without you being so close to the action.”

“I’d tell ya that it’s impossible to nail him, but I said that before and was wrong.”

“What did Damien have to say about it later?” asked Danny.

“He’s hot. I’ve never seen his face that red. The pulse in his temple was just a-jumpin’. I only got about three blocks away from the locker when he told me to pull over so we could go for a walk and talk. He was really pissed at me for havin’ a striker that screwed us.”

“How pissed?” asked Jack.

“Well ... not bad, cuz it wasn’t me who sponsored him into the club. It was Petro. As far as the stash being ripped, Damien is more pissed off at himself. It was his idea to have things go the way they did.” Lance looked at Jack and added, “Well, not the way they did, but the way they were supposed to. You know, with puttin’ the stash in a locker and then splittin’ it an’ sendin’ it out the next day.”

“So now what?” asked Jack. “What about the next ship?”

“That’s already left Colombia and should arrive in about ten days. I expect things will be done a little different then.”

“Damien won’t be stashing it all in the same spot,” suggested Danny.

“I’m not so sure Damien will even be involved. He’s worried. He knows he fucked up bad.”

“How so?” asked Jack.

“This was the biggest single deal the club has ever done. Usually we try and keep stuff like this separated, you know, so not everyone can be connected. But this was so fuckin’ big that every chapter in Canada had to chip in. There are gonna be a lot of pissed off people. Damien figures he might lose his position over this. Maybe even get the boot altogether.”

“Who do you think would replace him?” asked Jack.

“A guy from Quebec we call The Toad. He’s been here often in the last few weeks meeting with Damien.”

“Ugly?” asked Danny.

Lance chuckled, then said, “That too, but the name came from his younger days, before he joined the club. From his not-so-secret ingredient in makin’ the special brand of acid that he was selling.”

“You figure he could replace Damien?” asked Jack.

“He was runner-up last year.”

“I think I saw him that day,” said Jack. “Ugly, with a heavy French accent. Short and scrawny. Not what you expect for a biker.”

“That’s him. But he has other assets. He’s intellectual, sneaky, vicious, not much of a conscience. Sometimes makes for a wicked combination.”

When the meeting was over, Danny waited until Lance had left before turning to Jack and saying, “Looks like you just replaced Damien with a sociopath to run the biggest organized crime family in Canada. Is this what you call progress?”

Jack sighed and said, “Consequences are not always so easy to predict.” It was what Natasha had said to him. At the time he’d thought it had made him feel better. Now it just feels lame.

“Yeah, I guess,” replied Danny. “Sorry, didn’t mean to sound like I was upset. I’m just really tired.”

Me too. Tired of screwing up.

Damien sat at his kitchen table and closed his eyes as Vicki massaged the back of his neck and shoulders.

“What is it, Papa Bear?” she asked.

Damien gently reached for her hand and guided her around to sit on his lap. He glanced at the kitchen clock.

“You want to go out for dinner? Just the two of us?” suggested Vicki.

Damien shook his head. It had been forty-two hours since he had walked into the storage locker and discovered they had a traitor. A lot had happened. A lot that Vicki did not know about. He heard the muffled sound of the entertainment centre coming from another room. Briefly, he wondered what Buck, Sarah, and Kate would think of their dad when they found out. Would it change their image of him?

He whispered in Vicki’s ear, “I’m finished. Out. Maybe a couple of months ... but then I’ll be gone.”

“What are you talking about?”

Damien put his finger to his lips to tell Vicki to lower her voice, and then whispered, “I screwed up. Cost the club millions. We’re going to have to sell off some of our assets to pay back what I lost.”

Vicki’s eyes revealed her concern. “How? What happened?” she whispered back.

“Business. We had a traitor. Got ripped. My fault.”

“Everybody makes mistakes. Don’t —”

“Not like this. I’ve already been replaced. In the next couple of weeks The Toad will oversee ... will get a good opportunity to enhance his status. After that, a new election.”

“You can beat that guy! You have before.”

Damien shook his head. “Not this time. I won’t even bother to run. It’s time to retire. This is a sign. I’ve been a target too long. Up until now we’ve been lucky.”

“Oh, Papa Bear,” said Vicki, giving him a hug. “You’re tired. I know you haven’t slept in two or three days. Maybe if you rest...”

“Yeah, maybe,” replied Damien, while checking an incoming message on his BlackBerry. He expected it to be Rellik, who had also gone without sleep in the last forty-two hours. It wasn’t. He recognized the sender and knew it was urgent. He was directed to take a short walk away from his house.

Cecil Hinds knew his work well. He was a member of the Combined Forces Special Enforcement Unit of British Columbia. CFSEU was an independent police agency set up by the government to fight organized crime. It was composed of police officers from various agencies. In the last two days there had been a flurry of activity through coded messages being transmitted in and out of Damien’s estate.

Hinds decided to cruise through the neighbour-hood and record various licence plates parked within a few blocks of the estate. The more cautious criminals would sometimes park and walk the remainder in an effort to avoid identification. This evening, he was rewarded for his efforts when he saw Damien walking away from his house.

Hinds manoeuvred his car a block behind Damien and watched through binoculars. He knew that it wasn’t a casual after-dinner stroll. Damien walked fast and his physique implied that he was not on a fitness program. Damien was also being extra observant. Something is definitely up.

Hinds reached for his radio to call for support. He knew that Damien’s experience eliminated the chance of being able to follow him with only one car without being detected.

The response Hinds received indicated help would arrive in twenty-five minutes. Not soon enough, thought Hinds, as an SUV pulled alongside Damien and he quickly got in.

Hinds watched as the SUV drove past him. He knew he had been lucky. The driver hadn’t seen him, which was good, because Hinds recognized him. It was Jack Taggart. What the hell is he doing with Damien?

Hinds recalled reading a memo a couple of weeks earlier from the RCMP Anti-Corruption Unit requesting notification of police contact with Satans Wrath. Jack, you son of a bitch, what are you up to? Following you by myself is out of the question.

chapter fifteen

“What’s up?” growled Damien, as soon as Jack picked him up.

“Got something to show you. I’ve rented a motel room,” replied Jack.

“What is it?”

“Has to wait until we get there. You’ll see. Trust me.”

“Trust you? That’s a good one.”

The rest of the drive was made in silence, with the exception of Damien’s grumblings that Jack could have rented a room a little closer to Vancouver, rather than halfway to Chilliwack.

When they entered the motel room, Jack tossed an attaché case onto a small table near the window. Damien quickly walked through the unit to ensure they were alone and then took a seat at the table.

Jack pulled the other chair out and spun it around backwards before sitting down with his arms resting on the back of the chair as he faced Damien.

“Well? Get on with it,” said Damien. “I’m a busy guy. What’s this about?”

Jack stared briefly at Damien and then said, “It’s about how I no longer owe you a favour.”

Damien leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m listening. How did you reach that conclusion?”

“I’ve just saved you from going to jail. Even here in B.C., I figure you still would have received a long enough sentence that Buck, Sarah, and Kate would all have graduated before you got out.”

Damien let out a grunt, then sneered and said, “Bullshit. I haven’t done anything to go to jail for.”

“I’m not bullshitting you, so please do me a favour and don’t bullshit me. I find it insulting.”

Damien paused and the sneer disappeared from his face. “Okay. What evidence do you think you have?”

Jack stared intently at Damien. He felt his body tense, ready to fight. “I have a lot of evidence,” he said tersely. “In fact, if I was to weigh it, I would say it was about two kilos short of a metric tonne!”

Damien stared back in disbelief. “It was you?” he uttered.

Jack nodded and pointed to his attaché case and said, “Go ahead, open it. You can watch it on video — including the murder of Silent Sam.”

“So this is how you pay back a favour?” said Damien, rising to his feet and shoving the attaché case off the table like it was poisonous. “You cost me my position in the club!” he roared.

Jack remained seated. Keeping his voice even he said, “I would have done the same thing if I hadn’t owed you a favour. The difference is that someday you won’t be looking at pictures of your grandchildren from a jail cell.”

Damien stared down at Jack. His breath came in pants and it took him a moment to regain his composure. He then bent down to pick up the case and Jack quickly stood and backed away.

“I’m not going to hit you with the fucking thing,” said Damien, sitting back down in the chair.

Damien was quiet for a moment and Jack readied himself for a fight. He discovered that Damien was more cerebral. A wry smile appeared on his face and he said, “You’ve got me. Checkmate. I concede your ... point.”

Jack slid his chair a little farther back and then sat down.

Damien stared at him and said, “I never thought it would end like this. A bullet in the back from an Indo maybe, but not from your side. I underestimated you. Wish I had Bishop’s murder on film.”

“I only have one copy of Silent Sam’s,” replied Jack, gesturing to the attaché case. “After we watch it, you can destroy it. Then we’re going for a ride where you can see that something else is destroyed.”

The drive to the farm was made in silence. Jack parked on an access road and used his flashlight to navigate through a short stretch of bush and into a field that was being cleared to make pasture.

Damien looked down into the pit, where 998 kilos of cocaine had already been slashed open and mixed into a pile of brush. The smell of gas permeated the air as the last of it glubbed out of a barrel that Jack rolled along the top of the pit.

The men watched in silence as the flames crackled and roared to a great height. Then Jack handed Damien a set of keys and said, “These belong to you. An Econoline van that I’ve got parked nearby in the driveway of an abandoned farmhouse. You can drive yourself back to the city.”

Damien accepted the keys and said, “I guess one good thing came out of all this.”

“What’s that?”

“Not being top dog. I’m no longer a target. Who knows, maybe I’ll even be able to take my wife to bed without wondering who is listening.”

“Unless, of course, you continue your criminal career.”

Damien let out a snort and said, “I’m talking about other people. People with ambition. You got lucky. It won’t happen again. You mean nothing to me.”

“So you agree that I no longer owe you a favour?”

Damien didn’t answer for a moment, and Jack caught the look in his eyes as the flames flickered, casting shadows of light and darkness across his face. He really does look like the devil.

Damien glared at him and said, “Yeah, but don’t ever ask me for another one. If you do, I’m liable to kill you myself.”

Cecil Hinds had his surveillance team hiding near Damien’s estate waiting to video Jack and Damien together when they returned. He sat in his car with his hands in his jacket pockets. The weather had turned unseasonably cold for May, forcing him to shut the car off. Any exhaust coming from a parked car would quickly gather attention from those who were wary.

There was one obvious conclusion that Hinds drew from the covert method the two men used to meet. Hinds was a good cop. Like all good cops, he hated criminals ... but like all good cops, he hated dirty cops more.

Hinds was slightly disappointed when Damien reappeared four hours later driving a rented Econoline van and alone. Interesting. Why the van, and what part did Taggart play?

It was nine o’clock the next morning when Hinds found out what the van had been used for. A striker for Satans Wrath had returned the van to the rental agency. Minutes later, Hinds field-tested the powdery residue found inside. Positive for cocaine!

The chief officer in charge of CFSEU met with Assistant Commissioner Isaac within the hour. Moments later, Legg was also summoned to the meeting. Taggart had just become the Anti-Corruption Unit’s top priority.

“Where are we with the pictures you sent to Mexico, Harry?”

Legg squirmed slightly in his chair and replied, “We passed them on to the LO in Mexico City a week ago Monday. We haven’t heard back yet.”

“Today is Friday. That makes it eleven days. Why the delay?”

“The liaison officer indicated that the Mexican authorities won’t be eager to admit if they made a mistake. If Bishop’s death was not accidental, it would cause them embarrassment. It’s a delicate matter. The LO is trying to be discreet and go through the back door on this.”

Isaac pointed his finger at Legg and said, “You tell the LO to forget about being delicate! I don’t care who is embarrassed! Tell him to send it through channels immediately. If there are any problems, I’ll be talking with the Mexican ambassador myself!”

Danny checked his watch as he walked with Jack through the cemetery. It was early afternoon but some people were getting a jump on the weekend. Rush hour had already started. “You figure we’ll be working late?” he asked.

Jack glanced at him and said, “Guess it depends on what our friend has to say. Hoping to make it home for dinner?”

Danny nodded. “I need a break. I’ve been on edge all week over ... the storage locker thing. I’m glad things worked out for you with Damien last night, though.”

“Me too. Now if we could just find out who sent Connie that note I’d be happy.”

“Wish she had a lead,” said Danny. “Everyone in the office is jittery. Hell, even the building, for that matter.”

“It’s starting to get on my nerves, too,” replied Jack. “Let’s make this quick with our friend, then pop back to the office and head home. Natasha should get home around five-thirty. I want to be waiting for her with a bottle of wine when she does.”

“Sounds good to me,” replied Danny, reaching for his cellphone to call Susan.

“Hey, babe!” said Danny when she answered. “I’ll be home for dinner. Jack and I are taking the weekend off. How about taking a couple of steaks out of the freezer and not eating until after we put Tiff and Jimmy to bed?”

Susan felt relief and joy flutter through her body. This was the Danny she had married. Not the bone-weary, stressed-out, and depressed man she had been putting up with for the last couple of weeks. “I’ll be glad to,” she replied, “except it’s cold and windy. You’ll freeze your butt off if you barbecue.”

“Do we have any wine in the house?”

“A bottle of Pinot Noir.”

“Perfect. Then between you and the wine, I don’t expect to notice the cold. See you around five-thirty.”

Jack saw Lance pacing back and forth as they approached. Not a good sign. He’s not the type to be easily upset.

“What’s up?” asked Jack as they met.

“You guys have really done it this time,” replied Lance. “Damien is really in shit. Basically a vote of non-confidence. The club is out $6 million U.S. Damien has to cough up $1.5 million of his own bread as a penalty.”

“Where will he get the money?” asked Danny.

“Don’t know. Probably from the Caymans, but he could just slap a mortgage on his house.”

“Is he still boss?” asked Jack.

“In name only. The Toad is taking over in the interim until we do a proper election. He’s going to handle things personally for the next shipment. This time the dope will be split up before it ever leaves the port.”

“Which will be when?” asked Jack.

“The Toad arranged for the $3 mil down payment to be made a couple of days ago. The ship is due to arrive in about a week. The Toad is arriving here again tomorrow, along with a couple of his own guys. We pay the other half as the ship is unloaded.”

“Where does The Toad stay when he’s here?” asked Jack.

Lance shrugged. “Different hotels and motels. No place for long.”

“Anything else?” asked Danny.

“Think that’s about it,” replied Lance. “You guys screwed Damien good. I expect things might be a little different around here with The Toad.”

Danny checked his watch again and thought about Susan. To hell with Damien! Let’s go! He looked at Lance and said, “Stay in touch. We want to know every move The Toad makes.”

“You got it,” replied Lance, turning to walk away.

“Not so fast,” said Jack. “What else is going on?”

“About what?” asked Lance, turning to look at Jack.

Jack stared back but didn’t speak.

Lance returned his stare, then swallowed and said, “Oh, yeah. Guess I should have mentioned it. Noon yesterday, Damien called a meeting with Whiskey Jake, Rellik, and me.”

“What about?” asked Danny.

“About who ripped off our dope. Damien is pissed. Anyone we know dealing pounds or kilos who didn’t get it from us is getting whacked. Damien wants names. I gave him two guys and Whiskey Jake knew four. Rellik’s crew has already taken care of three of them. The other three will be next. I think Rellik has a few names of his own as well.”

“You what!” shouted Danny. “Jesus Christ! You can’t be working for us and tossing out names of guys to be murdered!”

“Thought you might be pissed,” said Lance, “but what was I supposed to do? You guys put me in this position. You wanted me to become prez? Well, now I am. With power comes responsibility.”

“Yeah, but...” Danny stopped as Jack held up his hand.

“I understand,” said Jack. “Don’t worry about it,” he added, while placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it!” said Danny, as his face took on a mottled effect.

“I appreciate that you’re in a tough spot,” continued Jack, speaking quietly to Lance. “Know that we won’t do anything to jeopardize you, but at the same time you don’t have immunity from any other cops. All I can promise is that we won’t help them.”

Lance nodded that he understood.

“Now,” added Jack, “give us whatever details you have. Who, when, where.”

Susan prepared a baby bottle for Jimmy. If I want him to go quietly to bed tonight I better wake him soon. She glanced at Tiffany, who had been on her riding toy for an hour. Her feet sounded like a galloping centipede as she raced around the table on the linoleum floor while working her arms to steer. She’ll sleep tonight!

Jimmy let out a high-pitched scream and Susan abruptly stopped what she was doing. It was a sound that all mothers instinctively knew. It wasn’t a cranky cry. He was in pain, and she ran to his crib.

Jimmy was lying in his crib on his back, his face red and contorted in pain. Susan reached for him as she noticed a bloody pinch mark on his cheek. At less than three months old, Jimmy wasn’t even able to roll over.

“Jimmy! What...”

Susan pulled the blanket back but never succeeded in picking up her baby. She felt a man’s hand choke off her windpipe and heard him say, “Now be quiet, my little bird. I don’t want to hurt your baby again.”

Ten minutes later, Susan found herself duct-taped to a kitchen chair. Her mouth had been taped but not her eyes. She believed there were at least four men, maybe five. They all wore ski masks and latex gloves. Two of them had their jackets undone and she saw pistols stuck in their belts.

Tiffany started to cry behind her and she twisted in her chair but was bound too tight to see. Moments later her crying stopped; Jimmy still sobbed from his crib. What have they done! What have they done to my Tiffany!

As if reading her thoughts, one man partially spun her chair so she could see that Tiffany was being held by a man who had his hand over her mouth.

None of the men had spoken a word except the one who grabbed her. His eyes were dark brown, maybe black, and he spoke with a British accent. She saw him nod at a man behind her, who then dragged her chair over and sat her facing her patio door.

Susan looked past their barbecue and at a metre-high above-ground pool that Danny had set up in the yard. The yard was well treed but Danny had built their fence extra high for even more privacy.

What do they want? Is it Danny? Are they waiting for him? She glanced at the clock on her oven. It was 3:ffl. An hour and forty-five minutes before Danny...

“Now then,” said the man with the British accent, bending over her. “I suppose you are wondering why we are doing this. The reason is rather simple, really. You have befriended a particular policeman who has taken it upon himself to bring an overzealous approach to his work. A chap by the name of Jack Taggart.”

He stared into her eyes. Susan stared back, too afraid to move.

“There is no use denying your friendship to this man. As I recall, you had him over for dinner not long ago. I believe you served him Yorkshire pudding. An excellent dish. Something I rather fancy myself.”

He motioned with his head and another man carried Tiffany into view. Her mouth was now taped, as were her hands behind her back. Her ankles were also bound. Susan wriggled and tried to shout through her own tape. The only sound she made was a murmur.

“Now, as punishment for your friendship with Officer Taggart, I have decided to kill one of your babies. You can decide which one!”

Danny kept his thoughts to himself until they returned to the office. Once they parked and got out of the car he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“Damn it, Jack! He’s a party to murder! We can’t let him be doing this! Throwing out names for people to be murdered! This isn’t right!”

Jack leaned back against the car and folded his arms across his chest. “So what do you expect him to do? If he doesn’t act like one of the pack, it won’t take them long to figure out what’s going on. Then he’s dead.”

“Then maybe we should drop him as an informant!”

“What? You’ve got to be kidding! After all the work we went through just to turn him ... forget it! It’s our job to find out what is going on. You can’t send a poodle into a wolf pack. We need him. Next to Damien, he’s the most valuable source we could ever get.”

“And what’s it gotten us? You’ve seen The Toad’s file. He makes Damien look like a choir boy! We haven’t accomplished squat! All we’ve done is made things worse.”

“How is taking down boatloads of coke and costing the club $6 million making it worse?”

Danny didn’t reply, so Jack added, “This is still the beginning. We’re barely started. With our friend in the position he is in, we can really do some damage to these guys.”

“I don’t know,” said Danny. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” The anger had gone from his voice. He sounded tired and beaten.

“Things don’t always turn out the way you figure,” said Jack. “When you first start this job you envision yourself wearing a white Stetson and riding in to catch bad guys. You tend to think things are either black or white. That’s a fantasy. In real life, if you’re effective in this job and expect to survive, then your Stetson tends to get a little grey after awhile.”

“Yeah? Well I think your fucking cowboy hat has turned black!”

Jack was quiet for a moment, then said, “You’re tired ... I’m tired. It’s almost four. It’ll take you half an hour to get home. Go now and I’ll tidy up in the office. Spend some time with your family and get some rest. Let’s both just calm down and we can talk about it on Monday.”

Susan gasped and her eyes widened with terror when she saw a third man appear, holding Jimmy in his arms. She tried to scream but sucked saliva into her lungs and gagged and coughed as the tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I’m thinking that your little one would fit in your outside grill ... then again, I don’t know if I have a match. Hmm, let me think. Perhaps the pool? Yes! Perfect! Which baby do you choose? Tell me now ... or I will presume that you want them both killed.”

Susan continued to cry and shake her head.

“Oh, how silly of me. You can’t talk.” He took Tiffany from the other man’s arms and held her up and said, “Shall I drown this one? Or ... oh, I see by the way you are shaking your head that you’ve obviously chosen the little one.”

It was almost four o’clock when Susan watched the man carry Jimmy out into the backyard. He flipped up a corner of the pool’s blue plastic cover and turned and looked at her. Seconds later, she watched as he dropped Jimmy into the water. Briefly she saw the shape of his body wriggling at the bottom of the pool before disappearing from view. The man waved at her and then they all left.

chapter sixteen

“Hey, babe! I’m home.” Danny didn’t get a response but he heard a thumping sound coming from his kitchen. He entered and saw Susan, taped to a chair that was lying on its side. She was banging her head against the floor. Tiffany was taped to the pedestal of the kitchen table.

He drew his 9mm and rushed over to kneel by Susan. She stared up at him. He expected her eyes to look frantic. They didn’t. They looked glassy ... lifeless. He grabbed the telephone on the kitchen counter and dialled 911 while covering off the entrance to the kitchen with his pistol. He was conscious of Susan’s methodical banging of her head on the floor. Sorry, babe. Just a few more seconds ...Tiffany crying and squirming ... everything is going to be okay.

Danny gave quick instructions into the telephone, and then left it off the hook as he knelt beside Susan and peeled back the tape from her mouth.

“Jimmy!” she choked. “They killed our Jimmy!”

Caution disappeared in a flash as panic sent Danny racing across the kitchen toward Jimmy’s room.

“No!” cried Susan. “Outside,” she added softly. “They drowned him half an hour ago.”

Danny turned abruptly. He saw the blue cover on the pool flipped back and drooping over the edge.

Assistant Commissioner Isaac thought about the meeting he’d had a few minutes earlier. Inspector Crana was sharp. His position on the Vancouver RCMP Drug Section demanded it. Isaac brooded over what he had been told. No, the narcs hadn’t heard of any large influx of cocaine hitting the streets this week. It was the opposite. Many major players were pulling a disappearing act.

Inspector Crana had assured Isaac that he would tell his people to canvas all informants and sources to find out what was going on. He would also check with VPD to see if they had heard anything unusual.

Isaac was just putting on his raincoat to head home when Inspector Crana called.

“Sir, I checked with VPD. Their Vice Unit doesn’t have anything, but their Homicide does. Three high-level cocaine dealers have been murdered within the last two days. A couple more are missing. The dealers don’t appear to be connected with each other.”

“Are they affiliated with any groups? Satans Wrath, Indos, Russians...”

“No, sir. Not that anyone knows of. It might be coincidental.”

“I don’t think it’s coincidental,” replied Isaac, with a noticeable edge to his voice. “You said earlier that many major players were pulling a disappearing act. What do they know that we don’t? Get on this!”

Isaac thought about it as he drove home. Taggart has a secret meeting with Damien, who then returns in a van that had been used to transport cocaine. Now dealers are being murdered? Isaac shook his head in frustration. There always seemed to be one common denominator when people were murdered. Taggart!

Jack was also on his way home when he received a call on his cell.

“Jack! What’s going on?”

He recognized Connie Crane’s voice. “Hey, CC. I was just thinking about you. Anything new on whoever sent the note? I’ve been in contact with Holly and —”

“Forget Holly! What the hell is going on with you and Danny?”

“What are you talking about? I’m just on my way home. Danny left over half an hour ago.”

“You haven’t heard? He didn’t call you?”

“Who?”

“Danny! Damn it! There was a home invasion at his house this afternoon. Bunch of guys. Tied up his wife and toddler, then decided to kill their baby and dropped him into the swimming pool. He didn’t call you?”

“No.” Jack heard his own voice but for a moment it sounded mechanical, like someone else was speaking. “Where are they?” he heard himself ask.

“BCCH. I’m on my way there now. I want to talk to you.”

Jack hung up and quickly dialled Danny’s cell.

Eventually Danny answered, “Yes.”

“Danny? Is that you? It’s Jack. I don’t recognize your voice. What —” The line went dead. Jack redialled but found that Danny’s phone was shut off. He called Natasha and was relieved to hear her answer.

“You okay?” asked Jack. “Where are you?”

“Sure, I’m okay. Just about home.”

“Danny and Susan had a home invasion this afternoon. Someone —”

“A what? Are they okay?”

“I don’t know. They’re at BCCH. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. I’ll call you, but watch yourself. I don’t know what is going on.”

Jack parked at the emergency entrance and ran inside. Moments later, he located Danny and Susan at the intensive care unit talking to an I-HIT investigator. Danny and Susan numbly stared at him as he rushed up.

“I just heard. Got here as fast as I could,” stammered Jack. “What —”

“Get away from us,” said Susan, her voice sounding raspy and bitter.

Jack felt stunned. His mouth opened to speak but no words came out.

“You heard her, Jack! Get the fuck away from us!” screamed Danny.

“Danny ... I don’t understand. Why...” Jack stopped and stepped back when he saw Danny clench his fist and pull his arm back.

Both men stared at each other for a moment, then Jack turned and walked away. He was conscious of walking past Holly, who had stepped out from Charlie’s room to see what the commotion was about.

The I-HIT investigator caught up to him and said, “Maybe you should hang around in the waiting room near the front doors. Connie should arrive soon. She’ll want to talk with you.”

“What happened? I heard they drowned Jimmy.”

“Not pronounced yet, but he was in a backyard pool for about thirty-five minutes. Doesn’t look good. All I know is that it had something to do with you. The guy who did it told Susan it was because she was your friend.”

“What about Tiffany?”

“That the other one? She’s being examined by a doctor. Don’t think she has any ... physical injuries. Victim Services have been notified.”

“I’m going home to my wife. Tell CC she can call me there.”

It was five-thirty when Jack got back in his car. He called home and Natasha answered.

“I’ll be home in forty minutes. Don’t let anyone in until I’m there.”

“Jack? What happened? Are they okay?”

“I’ll talk to you when I get home. I ... can’t talk right now.”

“Jack? What —”

Jack hung up and tossed the cell down on the seat as his body shook with each sob. He leaned forward and crossed his arms over the steering wheel to make a pillow for his head. Minutes later, he sat up and reached for the ignition. The keys slipped from his fingers onto the floor. He slumped over to pick them up, then clenched them in his fist and sat back in his seat breathing heavily.

Time passed and Jack realized he was staring at the edge of Charlie’s picture protruding from underneath the sun visor. It reminded him of another picture. A picture of Jimmy that Danny and Susan had given him when he was first born.

The tears dripped off his cheeks as the images of both infants vied for his attention.

It was forty-five minutes later when he found the energy to answer his cellphone.

“Jack! You son of a bitch!”

Jack recognized his sister’s voice and panic set in. Not her too! Not again! “Liz! What is it? What’s happened?”

“You know perfectly well what happened! It’s all because of you!”

“Marcie ... Ben ... are they okay? Tell me!” “Marcie doesn’t know. But how could you do that to us? Ben’s been freaking out. He wouldn’t tell me until just now. How could you? What if the dope dealers come back here looking for the stuff?”

Jack breathed a sigh of relief, then said, “They won’t. It’s all been burned. You’re completely safe.”

“Don’t you think having both my children murdered last year was enough?”

Jack swallowed, not knowing what to say.

“You tell us this Bishop fellow is dead, and we think, gee, maybe now we can get on with our lives. But no! You have to involve us in something like this!”

“Liz, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. The person who I did this favour for ... helped me find...” Jack paused, then said, “I promise, I’ll never do anything like that again.”

“That’s why you and Danny came out to visit the other morning! I thought it was strange. Tell him that I’m not impressed with him either.”

“Liz, something has happened to...” Jack coughed and tried to regain his composure. “I do need a favour. I hate to ask you now, but...”

“Haven’t you been listening to what I just said?”

“It’s Natasha. I ... never mind. I’m sorry.”

Elizabeth paused and then said, “A woman problem maybe I can handle. What is it? Are you okay? Jesus, I didn’t mean to come down so hard on you. Your voice...”

“I’m worried that Natasha is in danger.”

“Your job?”

“Yes.”

It was seven o’clock when Jack arrived home.

Natasha met him at the front door and said, “What the hell is going on? Why did you hang up on me?”

“I was at the hospital. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t ... oh, Jesus, it’s my fault,” replied Jack.

Natasha was startled by the tone of his voice but more shocked when she looked at him. Grief and anguish carved deep etches into his face. It was obvious he had been crying. She forgot her anger and hugged him, then held his hand as she led him to the living room and sat him down on the sofa to face her.

“Talk to me,” she said softly.

The words poured out. Everything that had happened within the last three hours. When he was finished, Natasha placed one hand on his shoulder and said, “You mean you still don’t know that Jimmy is going to be okay?”

“No. I’m sure he’s not. Even if they manage —”

“Nobody has told you!”

“Told me what? What are you talking about?”

“Jimmy is going to be okay. I was going frantic. Had to find out what was going on so I called the hospital and spoke with someone I knew. Danny and Susan are in shock, but Jimmy seems fine.”

“No, he can’t be. It’s not possible. He was underwater over half an hour. His brain will be ... if he lives ... he’ll be...”

“No, we don’t think so. He is alive and not showing any signs of neurological damage.”

“It can’t be. I was told he —”

“Let me speak. Normally, drowning suffocation causes a lack of oxygen resulting in death in only a few minutes. An exception to this rule appears in victims who have been suddenly submerged into ice-cold water, resulting in the slowing of body functions while diverting blood only to the heart, lungs, and brain. Some of these people have survived without any physical damage for up to an hour underwater. It’s known as the mammalian dive reflex. If someone gradually becomes hypothermic then this reflex does not apply.”

“But Jimmy is just a baby!”

“Babies are born with the mammalian dive reflex. They naturally hold their breath when submerged. Also, being less than three months old means his blood is still oxygen enriched from being in the womb.”

Natasha embraced her husband. She felt the moisture on her neck from his eyes. The telephone rang and he tried to move to answer it. She held him a moment longer before relenting.

“Jack. CC here. Just to let you know that it sounds like O’Reilly’s baby is going to be okay.”

“I know.”

“How did ... oh yeah, your wife.”

“How are they doing?”

“Pretty shook up. Got two guys providing security for them at the hospital. We’ll stash them at a motel later. Everyone else in your section is being warned to be cautious. In the meantime, who do you know with a British accent that is psycho enough to do this?”

“A British accent? Nobody. I can’t think of anyone.”

“Susan said that one of the guys spoke with a British accent. He also knew she had you over for dinner last week.”

“He what?”

“Yeah, commented to her that he was going to kill her baby because she fed you Yorkshire pudding.”

“How did he know that?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. Who knew what you had for dinner that night?”

“Nobody. She invited me when I was leaving the funeral and I went straight...” Jack paused. The funeral! The annoying wrong number calls ... the green van with the open window ... I never saw anyone enter it after the funeral ... sitting inside ... waiting...

“Jack?” asked Connie.

“Someone with a British accent called me a couple of times at the funeral for Holly’s husband. Said it was a wrong number. That was when Susan invited me. I think she said then what we were having!”

“You sure?”

“Positive. Tell me you were there doing your thing?”

“I was. Videoed everyone I could see who attended. Meet me at my office.”

Jack hung up, then looked at Natasha and said, “I want you out of here. Go out to the farm. Take next week off work. These people are murdering people I’m connected —”

“Jack, I can’t. I’ve got patients to look after next week.”

“Aren’t you paying attention? Everywhere I look or go people are getting murdered! Three nights ago I saw a guy get his brains blown out! Today someone tried to kill Susan’s baby because she fed me dinner! Can you believe it? Dinner! I can’t take this anymore! I’m not losing you, too!”

Natasha looked at him calmly, then said, “I didn’t hear about someone losing the contents of his cerebellum.”

Jack sighed, then said, “Okay, that one doesn’t count. Just bad guys killing bad guys. But this other stuff ... Danny and Susan. Someone did that because they’re ... they were my friends. I want you someplace safe until this is over.”

Natasha shook her head and said, “Jack, you should have looked in a mirror when you came home tonight. You need me. We’re a team. I’m not leaving you alone while —”

“If I need help, I’ll get someone. I’m sorry, but that doesn’t include you. You don’t invite me in to assist with your patients. I need to have a clear head. If I’m worried about you then I might make a mistake.”

Natasha thought for a moment, then in a whisper said, “You’ve made your point. Call your sister, I’ll pack.”

“She’s expecting you. I’ll stay and then follow you until I know you’re not being followed. I’ll call you as often as I can.”

Twenty minutes later, Jack and Natasha embraced and kissed each other in the underground parking lot beside their respective cars.

Natasha looked at Jack and said, “I know you desperately want to catch who did this, but ... I’ve got a bad feeling. I want you to promise me that you’ll take care of yourself.”

“I promise. I’ll take care of myself — and I will take care of whoever is behind this,” he said bitterly.

chapter seventeen

Jack met CC in the I-HIT office and said, “Check this number out. I got it off my phone bill. It’s the number the Brit called me from when I was at the funeral.”

“Good work!” replied CC. Her enthusiasm was cut short moments later when she discovered that the number belonged to a cellphone that had been reported lost or stolen. The owner was elderly and had no criminal history.

“Too much to ask for, I guess,” replied Jack. “Show me the video.”

Jack and CC then watched the video of the funeral. He saw himself walking away from the service and then answering his phone. They both studied the crowd but there was no indication of anyone calling him.

“I received two calls,” said Jack. “Keep watching.”

The video remained focused on those who were leaving and it became evident that the second call Jack received was not on film.

“Damn it,” said CC.

“I remember a green van pulling out from the curb and cutting off someone in traffic about the time Susan invited me. The driver’s window was open. You must have recorded plates.”

“We did. Nothing really stood out. Nobody with a record for violence, but a green van sounds familiar. Hang on.”

A moment later, Jack saw where a pan of the camera had captured the back of the green van parked on the road outside the cemetery. The driver had his head out the window and was looking toward the service. He looked dark, perhaps Indonesian.

“The plates ... did you run them?”

CC froze the frame and zoomed in for a close up. “No, I’ll show you. Too muddy. The last two numbers, one might be a three, maybe an eight, but we couldn’t make it out.”

“The rest of the van isn’t muddy,” muttered Jack. “That was done on purpose. Run it under all combinations. See if one of them matches.”

Several minutes later, Jack and CC received the information. None of the numbers matched a green van, but one of the numbers did match a stolen plate.

“That’s him!” said Jack. “He was there when Susan invited me!”

“Lousy picture,” commented CC. “Just his profile. Pretty grainy when I zoom in any further.”

“There’s something about this guy...”

“He look familiar?”

“No, but let me think. There’s something else ... Elvis!”

“What?”

“Elvis, from Anti-Corruption! He was doing some work for me recently. Said he heard a guy with a British accent speaking to a lawyer who works on retainer for Satans Wrath. Described him as maybe being Indo.”

“That’s incredible!” CC’s mouth dropped open as she stared at Jack.

Jack frowned and said, “Not that incredible. Elvis saw the guy but didn’t identify him.”

“I don’t mean that! I mean the part you said about ACU working for you!”

Jack surprised himself by laughing. Too much stress, not enough sleep. Still, it felt good. He dialled his cell and felt relieved when his call was answered.

“Laura, it’s Jack. I need —”

“Forget it, Jack! Not tonight. Operators are not standing by. Stall it or get someone else. Elvis and I are celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary.”

“Not you, Laura. Elvis. I need to speak to him. It’s about what happened to Danny and his family this afternoon.”

“Your partner? O’Reilly? What happened?”

“Put Elvis on. He can tell you later.”

Less than an hour later, Elvis confirmed that the man in the green van was the same man who had met Lawrence Leitch in the park and had been shown the bogus report given to Molen.

“What bogus report?” demanded CC.

Jack explained how Molen was supplying information to Satans Wrath through Leitch’s secretary.

“So she gave it to Leitch, who then showed it to this guy in the park?” asked CC.

“Exactly,” said Jack.

“Maybe we should bring Molen in and grill him,” Elvis suggested.

Jack shook his head. “I don’t think Molen knows him. I’m not sure Satans Wrath even knows who it is. My guess is that Leitch is playing both sides of the fence. Working for the Indos and the bikers. You bring Molen in and that might just spook everybody.”

“Another fake report then?” suggested CC.

Jack and Elvis exchanged glances, and then Elvis said, “We already did that, but I think Molen burned us. I’m not sure another one would work.”

“Sounds like you don’t have anything to lose by trying,” said CC. “I want this guy bad. What he did to...” She stopped as she thought of Susan’s horror. She felt her body begin to tremble and knew she couldn’t articulate that subject without losing control. If I’m going to cry, it won’t be in front of these two guys!

CC gave Jack what she hoped was a tough and angry look. He looked back and slowly squeezed his eyes shut and opened them. He’s telling me he feels like crying too. CC felt slightly embarrassed. He’s a man and not afraid to reveal his emotions in front of me, and here I am a woman and trying to act tough. What the hell has happened to this world?

“Guess you’re right,” said Elvis, staring at the video. “This is Friday, so we’ve got the weekend to come up with another report. If Molen has burned us, it won’t take long to find out.”

“The one who knows is Leitch,” said CC. “How about doing surveillance on him and hope he leads us to the Brit?”

“That’s part of the problem,” explained Elvis. “Last time when we gave Molen the dummy report, he acted kinky. Later we saw Leitch just BlackBerry a message and then burn the report. I don’t think these two will get together any time soon. Also, Leitch is a lawyer, so good luck on trying to get a wiretap.”

“CC is right,” said Jack. “Leitch is the key.”

“He’s one key,” said Elvis. “How about Satans Wrath? What’s the head honcho’s name?”

“Damien,” replied Jack.

“Do you seriously believe, with all the lawyers in this city, that it is just a coincidence that Satans Wrath and the Brit use the same lawyer?” asked Elvis. “Come on! That’s who ultimately got the report from Leitch. He has to know what is going on.”

“I agree there’s some connection,” said Jack, “but I’m certain Damien doesn’t know about it. He would never authorize someone to mess with a cop’s family like that. Not to mention this same person killed someone else thinking it was me. Damien wouldn’t make that mistake.”

“Sounds like you think you know him pretty well,” said Elvis.

Jack noticed Elvis studying his face closely as he responded. “We met last year when his guys screwed up. I think I know him well enough.”

“You haven’t talked to him since?” asked Elvis.

“Haven’t needed to, but what I’m saying is that Damien knows what I look like and who I’m married to. They wouldn’t kill Holly’s husband by mistake.”

“I tend to agree with Jack,” added CC.

Elvis looked at them both, then sighed and said, “Leaves us with trying another scam on Molen come Monday.” Then he looked at Jack and said, “Unless you have any other ideas?”

“Try your idea. It could work.”

“But if it doesn’t?” said Elvis. “What then?”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose CC will just have to keep doing surveillance on Leitch and hope she gets lucky.”

CC didn’t respond. She didn’t believe he meant that any more than he did.

chapter eighteen

It was eleven o’clock Sunday night when Jack parked beside the cemetery and waited for Lance, who arrived twenty minutes late and got in Jack’s car.

“Sorry, I’m late,” said Lance. “Was with The Toad. Couldn’t get away.”

“Not a problem.”

“Where’s Danny?”

Jack turned on the interior light and told Lance what had happened. Jack could tell that Lance was uncomfortable, but it was because of the light and not because he knew anything about the Brit.

Jack turned the light off with a promise that if Lance could identify the Brit before he did, then his debt would be considered repaid.

Lance was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’m not so sure I like that deal.”

Jack was surprised. “You would prefer to go with our earlier agreement and work for Club Fed for another four and a half years?”

“I was just thinkin’. Anyone who did what that guy did ... I’d like to give him to you for free.” He pointed his finger at Jack and added, “And it’s four years and five months. I know my math.”

“Hey, I’ll be glad to get a free one from you.”

“You think I’m fuckin’ nuts? I’d like to give him to you for free, but I sure as hell won’t! I hate being a rat! The faster I pay you back the better I’ll feel.”

Jack reflected upon his past debt with Damien. I know exactly how you feel.

“I’ll keep my ears and eyes open,” continued Lance. “If I get a whiff of anyone matching that description, you’ll be the first to know. Kinda agree with you, though. I think that fuckin’ Leitch is working both sides. If Damien finds out he’s doin’ that, there’ll be one less lawyer in the city.” Lance chuckled and said, “Bet that doesn’t exactly worry you much.”

“It would if we didn’t find out who the Brit is first.”

Lance nodded and said, “Gotcha. But in the meantime, we got a shipload of coke comin’ in and I’ve been assigned to oversee the unloading. The Toad wants at least four vehicles to haul it away. Two hundred and fifty keys each. None of it will be going to the same place so there’s no way of rippin’ it all off. If you try to take it down at the dock, then I’ll get busted.”

“What about the cash?”

“The Toad is looking after that personally. He doesn’t want it and the dope in the same place at the same time. He’s going to hand it off to the Colombians at some motel. The Colombians will confirm they got the money and use a cellphone to tell someone on the ship to unload.”

“Why is The Toad so paranoid about bringing the money to the dock?”

“Doesn’t want to have all the eggs in one basket. He said the Colombians don’t want the money near the dock either.”

“What motel?”

“Hasn’t been picked yet. It’ll be my job to take The Toad and find a suitable motel. A few hours before the deal, he’ll take a few of his guys and the money and go to the motel. Nobody but him and me will know which motel until he gets there with his guys and calls the Colombians.”

“So where does Damien sit on this?”

“On his ass at home. This is all The Toad’s plannin’.”

“Who handles Leitch ... or the Brit if it does turn out to be someone working for Damien?”

Lance shrugged and said, “The way Damien feels, that end may fall by the wayside. I know this isn’t the news you want to hear, but once The Toad takes over, you may never find out.”

“Then The Toad can’t take over,” said Jack.

“Hey, man! If you bust The Toad at the motel then I’ll be burned to a crisp — probably literally.”

“I won’t burn you.”

“So what are ya gonna’ do? Nothin’?”

Jack looked at Lance and said, “I’ll play it by ear.” He thought to himself, I’m going to squash a toad!

On Monday morning, Jack was a little curious when his boss was twenty minutes late for work. Louie was usually half an hour early.

Jack’s curiosity was answered when Louie showed up on a pair of crutches with a cast on one leg. Before Jack could ask, Louie gruffly said, “Saturday. Ladder slipped cleaning my gutters. Broke in three places. Enough said. What’s new with you?”

“Not much since I called you Friday night.”

“Molen getting another report?”

“Yes. I-HIT is helping with surveillance too, but we’re not optimistic.”

“Your friend doesn’t know who the Brit is?”

Jack shook his head. “Met him last night. He does-n’t know.” Jack waited until Louie nodded in response, then asked, “Have you heard from Danny? How are they doing?”

“We talked briefly. He’s taking stress leave. I think they’re planning on going someplace for a while. He’s talking about quitting. I suggested he take time off and think about it. No need to rush into a decision right away.”

“Where are they staying?”

“He had the option of staying at a motel but elected to return home. He’s adamant about not returning to work. As he said, he’s complying with the note so he doesn’t think he’s a target now.”

“What about Jimmy?”

“Apparently seems okay. Lucky little bugger. What do you think about Danny quitting?”

Jack sighed and said, “Can’t say I blame him. I was wrong to be around him after CC got that note. I should have stayed away from everyone.”

“The note targeted everyone in the office. We have no choice but to continue working. Danny’s pretty upset. Not thinking too clear. Who would? He mumbled something about your cowboy hat turning black. What was that all about?”

Jack tipped his head back, took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled. “Guess he has me pegged as one of the bad guys.”

Louie studied him closely for a few seconds and then said, “Like I said. He’s upset. I’m going to talk with Isaac. Hate to lose a good man. Maybe I can arrange to get him transferred into some admin position for a while.”

It was after lunch when Isaac reviewed the report submitted by the Anti-Corruption Unit noting that Jack had lied about not having met Damien since last year. Not a big issue in itself, but... The name of the ACU investigator caught his eye and he summoned Staff Sergeant Legg.

“This report you submitted this morning,” said Isaac, gesturing to the paper on his desk.

“Yes, sir. Just a short memo. Perhaps nothing, but after the report from CFSEU about Taggart and then him telling Elvis that he hadn’t met with Damien since last year ... I just thought I should keep you informed. It will be more ammunition to use after we hear back from the LO in Mexico.”

Isaac nodded and said, “It was Elvis he said this to?”

“Yes, sir. Connie Crane from I-HIT was present as well.”

“Isn’t Elvis married to Laura Secord from Drug Section?”

“Yes, sir.”

“She was the female operator who worked with Taggart on that homicide involving the war veteran.”

Legg shrugged his shoulders and replied, “I don’t know.”

“Well I do know.” Isaac leaned forward, clasping his hands on his desk. He then said, “For your information, O’Reilly is being transferred forthwith to an administrative position. It would not be ... unusual ... for him to be replaced. Intelligence is extremely busy right now. Under the circumstances, I would endorse an immediate transfer. It would appear that Taggart has a good working relationship with Laura Secord, don’t you agree?”

Elvis was not pleased with Molen’s response, or actually his lack of response, to the new report. He didn’t make any calls and didn’t leave during the lunch break. Surveillance teams monitoring Leitch and his secretary had nothing to report. It was almost four o’clock when Elvis was summoned into his boss’s office.

“Did you happen to mention to your wife that Taggart could be dirty?” asked Legg.

“No,” replied Elvis. “We try not to discuss work at home. I did ask her if she suspected any of the narcs of being dirty and she said no. Why do you ask?”

“O’Reilly is being transferred immediately to an administrative position. I heard through the grapevine that Laura may replace him.”

Elvis sat quietly.

“How do you feel about that, should it happen? What with Taggart being under investigation by our office?”

Elvis shrugged.

“Do you feel apprehensive about the prospect?”

“That would indicate that I doubt Laura’s integrity, which I don’t. So, no. I’m not apprehensive.”

“Would Laura confide in you if she discovered something that wasn’t kosher?”

“You mean if Jack is dirty, would she burn him?”

Legg nodded.

“Without a doubt ... but I’m sure she won’t take the job if you’re asking her to spy.”

Legg smiled, shaking his head. “For goodness’ sake, I’m not suggesting that! I just want to make sure that this doesn’t cause any undue stress on your marriage. Also to ensure that if Laura did discover something she would confide in you so as to alleviate any accusations of her covering something up down the road.”

“If it was anything serious that our section should know about, she would most certainly talk to me about it. She’s my wife. I would do the same if the situation were reversed.”

“Exactly. At which time you would follow through with your responsibilities and discuss it with me. Then we could ensure that she would be protected against any undesirable accusations concerning her own conduct.”

“That goes without saying. I know Laura. If Jack is dirty, she will be the first to nail him to the wall.”

“Good. That is all I expect. We have no proof that he is dirty. This Mexican thing could be a coincidence.”

“It’s been two weeks since we sent the photos,” noted Elvis. “We should know soon enough.”

Legg nodded, then said, “At this point, I would suggest you don’t say anything to Laura. Taggart is clearly astute when it comes to reading people. Obviously, he has to be; I’m sure his very survival has depended upon it. With that in mind, we couldn’t expect Laura to successfully hide that knowledge. Some inadvertent sideways glance or perhaps a hesitation in her voice might be all it would take to tip Taggart off.”

“I understand,” replied Elvis. “Not to mention, we don’t know if Taggart is dirty. False allegations and rumours harm innocent people.”

“Exactly. This conversation is just between the two of us. I’m telling you this as a friend, which is why you need to ensure that you discreetly report anything of consequence to me. It is imperative that Laura doesn’t become implicated in anything untoward. She has an excellent reputation for being professional. I’m certain, once this is over, she would understand completely should you decide to tell her then. That would be your decision, of course.”

“Of course.”

Legg waited until Elvis left his office before calling Isaac.

“Everything is in order, sir. I feel confident that Elvis will cooperate fully.”

Elvis rejoined the surveillance team just as Molen left the office. They followed him to a liquor store and watched as he bought a bottle of Canadian Club. Then he drove straight home.

At nine-thirty, Elvis received a call on his radio.

“Just got a good look at him through the binos from the back alley. He’s sitting by himself at the kitchen table. Looks like the whiskey is three-quarters gone.”

“Copy,” replied Elvis. “Let’s shut it down. Nothing is going to happen tonight.”

“Going to haul his...” The officer paused, conscious of radio procedure, then continued, “... haul his butt in tomorrow?”

“Ten-four. Be a good time to try. He’ll be tired and hungover.”

chapter nineteen

It was eight o’clock the following morning when Elvis consulted with Jack about his belief that Molen knew the game was up.

“So you want to grab him?” asked Jack. “If he doesn’t roll, it could still heat up my source and we wouldn’t be any further ahead.”

“That’s why I’m talking to you. I won’t do it without your okay.”

“You said he has a problem with the booze?”

Elvis nodded and said, “Sat by himself last night and drank most of a bottle of whiskey. I’d say he was an alcoholic. Divorced years ago and his boss said he doesn’t appear to have any friends.”

“How nervous do you think he is?”

“Very. I don’t think he could handle the pressure of an interrogation. We’ve already got him dead to rights on the first delivery.”

“Then do it. It’s worth the risk if by some chance he knows something about the Brit.”

“Your person can take the heat?”

“With the way Molen is, Satans Wrath wouldn’t expect him to last long. They may think he was drunk and blabbed something.”

“Good enough,” replied Elvis. “I’ll grab him as soon as he comes in.”

Elvis was just walking away when Jack said, “Elvis, if he resists, put one through his skull for me!”

Elvis thought about Jack’s comment as he waited in his office for word of Molen’s arrival. Jack’s response was like most cops’ when it came to one of their own being dirty. He seems genuine, but then again, he is an operator...

Two hours later, Elvis found out why Dick Molen had not arrived at work. A postal worker had become suspicious at the sound of a car running inside a garage with the door closed.

Jack went down to the cafeteria to have a morning coffee and sat with a few acquaintances who had been in the lineup ahead of him. A few glanced around nervously. Soon they all made feeble excuses and departed, leaving Jack sitting alone.

Gee, guys. My wife is out of town. How about inviting me home for Yorkshire pudding? Jack left his coffee unfinished. Can I blame them? The Brit is laughing at all of us.

Jack returned to his desk just as Elvis arrived.

Elvis told him about Molen and then commented, “Carbon monoxide. I’m surprised he didn’t eat his gun.”

“Maybe was too hungover and afraid the noise would kill him,” replied Jack. “Did he leave a note?”

Elvis shook his head.

“You sure it was suicide?”

“Doors were all locked from the inside. No sign of forced entry anywhere. His right hand has bloodied knuckles and splinters of glass. It matches a smashed picture on his wall.”

“Picture of what?”

“Himself. When he graduated from Regina.”

Jack thought for a moment, then said, “Other than saying he hated himself, it would have been nice if he told us what he had passed on.”

“You’ll have to presume it was everything he ever knew,” said Elvis.

“I wonder if Satans Wrath will show up at his funeral to pay their respects.”

Elvis rolled his eyes in response and then said, “It’s too bad, though. Waste of a —”

“Yes!” interrupted Jack. “Too bad we don’t know who the Brit is ... and too bad the dirty narc wasn’t sitting beside Molen.”

Jack met with Lance and told him about the self-destruction of The Mole.

“Thanks for the heads up,” said Lance. “Normally I would be a little concerned, but right now, with Damien getting the boot, I think it will hardly be noticed. Especially with the action that The Toad has on the go.”

“I need to find out who the Brit is,” said Jack. “When Damien finds out that The Mole is dead, ask him if there could be a leak.”

“Me ask him if there is a leak?”

“Question him about who else has contact with Leitch. Ask him if he ever used a go-between.”

“Fuck! I am the leak! I don’t want him to even start thinking about that.”

“Do it. If he’s going to suspect anything, he will regardless of what you say. It’s better if you’re on the inside pointing a finger rather than being quiet and being pointed at.”

Lance took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, then said, “Okay. I’m meeting him tomorrow night, along with The Toad. I think I’ll be told exactly when the ship arrives. If Damien knows about The Mole by then, I’ll do it.”

“Good. I’ll see if I can get it in the news. Meet me here at five-thirty Thursday morning to let me know what is happening.”

“How about four-thirty? If the ship is arriving in the next couple of days I’m liable to be busy.”

“Make it five. The cemetery has a security guard check it three times a night. He does his last drive-through around four-thirty.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve seen him. Know his schedule pretty well.”

Lance studied Jack’s face for a moment, then asked, “Is this where your niece and nephew are buried? You come out here at night?”

Jack hesitated and glanced at another part of the cemetery, then replied, “My work is often nocturnal. Other nights I just have trouble sleeping.”

Jack returned to his office. One didn’t have to be overly observant to notice that various colleagues avoided eye contact with him as he made his way to his desk. A couple of standard greetings that Jack gave were answered either with a grunt or a turn of the head and pretense of a cough. It’s like I’m walking around with a chicken under each arm and a sign that says I’ve got the avian flu...

That night Jack called Natasha from his apartment. He was tired and intended to speak for only a few minutes, but it was over an hour before he hung up. He realized how much he missed her. His bed seemed very empty that night.

The following day was no different at his office, except this time he packed a sandwich and ate lunch at his desk. It was better than sitting alone in the cafeteria.

He was more than a little surprised to see Laura enter the room with a smug look on her face and sit in Danny’s chair.

“What gives?” Jack asked. He then said, “You might want to close the door. Being seen with me isn’t too popular these days.”

Laura glanced at the open door and her smile vanished. “Elvis told me. I know about Danny. I want to get whoever is responsible.”

“Me too. Real bad.”

“How could someone do that to a baby?” she said, her voice wavering.

Jack saw some tears well up in her eyes, but then she regained her composure and said, “Staffing called me in this morning. Said they were looking for someone to replace Danny and asked if I was interested.”

Jack waited, but when Laura didn’t continue, he asked, “What did you tell them?”

“I said, ‘Not a chance! Do you think I’m a lunatic!’”

Jack looked at her for a moment, then said, “Oh.”

Laura looked surprised and said, “Oh, man ... you really think I said that? Jack ... I was joking! I’m sorry. Are you okay? This has really gotten to you, hasn’t it?”

Jack paused, then said, “Yes. It has.”

“Guess I can understand that.”

“So did you accept?”

“I stalled them for an hour. I wanted to speak to you first. If I can help nail this crud, I’ll feel like my life as a cop is complete. I figure working with you is the best option.”

“Working with me maybe isn’t ... look what happened to Danny. Are you —”

“Hey! I’m hoping he will come after me. I’ll be bait if you want me to.” When Jack didn’t respond right away, she added, “Besides, you look like you could use a friend. Come on. I’ll make a good partner. Just tell me what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want right now.”

“Yeah? Well stand up, I know the first thing you need,” she said, while coming around from behind the desk.

Jack slowly stood up and Laura said, “If there was anyone I’ve ever seen who needs a hug, it’s you.” She hugged Jack and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Jack closed his eyes for a moment. Her embrace felt good. It made him feel less alone.

Laura stepped back and said, “Well? Do you want me as a partner or not?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I can start next Tuesday after the May long weekend. Gotta run. Have to let Elvis know I spoke with you and that you agreed ... after I performed a sexual favour.”

Jack smiled, then replied, “I don’t need any heat from Elvis. I can get into trouble easy enough without that.”

Laura was almost out the doorway when Jack said, “Laura!” He waited until she turned around and then said, “Thank you.”

She smiled and replied, “We’ll get him, Jack.”

Jack thought about her after she left. She offered to be a friend ... but would she ever be a good friend? Danny’s a good friend ... or was.

Moments later, Louie hobbled in on his crutches and asked, “Wasn’t that Laura Secord who just left? What did she want?”

“Staffing offered her Danny’s position. She asked what I thought.”

“What did you say?”

“I’m pleased. She starts six days from now.”

Louie frowned and said, “How do you know she’s not the dirty narc?”

“The day we took down those labs she was on a plane coming back from Bangkok. It’s not her.”

“I see.” Louie paused for a moment and then said, “You know her hubby works for Internal.”

“I know. Anti-Corruption.”

“Doesn’t concern you?”

“She’s okay.”

“I retire in two months. You know that.”

“I know, in July. Looking at those crutches, maybe you should retire now, but what’s that got to do with Laura?”

“It means I won’t be around to cover your ass!”

Jack smiled and said, “I appreciate that.”

Louie gave him a hard look, then said, “Hope you’ve learned a few things over the last couple of years.”

“Louie, you’ve been the best teacher I could have had. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m sorry to see you go.”

“Don’t get fuckin’ mushy on me. Your assessment isn’t due until after I leave. Won’t do you any good to suck up to me. Just hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I trust my instincts,” replied Jack. He thought about his comment as Louie left. Funny ... “I trust my instincts” ... that was what Spider said just before Laura slammed his face into a table and arrested him.

chapter twenty

It was five-fifteen in the morning when Jack heard his name whispered and saw Lance stand up from behind a tombstone.

“What’s up?” asked Jack. “Any news on the Brit?”

Lance shook his head. “The news about The Mole came up. Damien said there was heat on ’im. I asked about a leak. Damien said it was only Leitch, his secretary, Pussy Paul, Whiskey Jake, and me that knew. He said the leak probably came from The Mole when he was pissed. If Damien had someone else dealing with Leitch, he would have told me.”

Jack hadn’t expected Damien to know, but felt disappointed just the same. “You’re sure everything was okay? Maybe Damien is just playing you.”

“Don’t think so. I was given my assignment for the ship. It arrives tomorrow night. It’s a good time for us. Friday of a long weekend. Cops and port authorities won’t want to take time to nose around. If anyone suspected me of being a leak, I wouldn’t have been told.”

“What is your job when it arrives?”

“The Toad is gonna have me at the dock to oversee things there. Will happen in the early evening. The Toad will hand the money off at a motel called the Spotted Owl.”

“Never heard of it.” “It’s by an industrial area out in Burnaby. Not far from the Labatt Brewery. Only The Toad and I know the location right now. Even Damien doesn’t know the name of the motel. The Toad is running things really tight. The strikers won’t even know until they’re with him and arrive at the motel.”

Jack nodded.

Lance stared at him briefly, then said, “So, like, you can’t do anything or I’ll get —”

“Trust me. Where’s the money now?”

“Don’t know. The Toad has it stashed with a couple of his guys. Around nine o’clock tomorrow night The Toad will BlackBerry the name of the motel to the Colombians. They will arrive and weigh the money to make sure it’s all there.”

“Can’t these guys afford money counters?”

“Too slow. Should be about thirty-five kilos worth of Canadian hundreds. A little more or less doesn’t really matter. Then the Colombians send a message to the ship and we unload.”

“Canadian? What’s with that? Thought they would demand American?”

“Yeah, The Toad said he was surprised when he found out too, but that’s what the Colombians wanted. It works out to about $3.5 million Canadian. It’s a hell of a lot easier for us. The Toad said they plan on buying some business up here to make things easier to connect with us. Probably have a mom and pop and couple of kids operation someplace.”

“That’s a lot of money for a mom and pop operation.”

Lance shrugged and said, “That’s just The Toad’s guess. Maybe it’ll be a few more than that. I don’t know.”

“So the Colombians are coming off the ship and going to the motel?”

“No. I guess some of them are already here. I don’t know how many for sure, but I think only a handful. Probably looking to scout out the business front. A couple will be at the dock and two are supposed to wait and go to the motel when The Toad calls ’em.”

“You haven’t met any of them?”

“Nope. From what The Toad says, they barely speak English. All this was arranged by The Toad previously so we don’t expect any problems.”

“Just two Colombians for all that money?”

Lance chuckled and said, “That’s what I asked. The Toad said that these Colombians treat that like you and I would a hundred bucks. We’re paranoid as shit about it and they just laugh. I think the fucking cartel deals in truckloads of cash. This is just peanuts to them.”

“A lot of peanuts.”

“No shit. But I guess if you try an’ rip ’em for fifty bucks they’ll slash your throat.”

“A matter of honour.”

“Yeah, I guess. I can only wonder at how much their organization is rolling in.”

“How many of your guys will be protecting the money?”

“The Colombians agreed that they won’t be packin’ when they come to the room.”

“You can bet they’ll have weapons close by.”

“Yeah, for sure. But not with them. They go to the room and consent to a search. Then The Toad makes a call and the money is brought in. We’re not worried about a rip. It went smooth with them last time.” Lance paused, then added, “Not counting what happened at the storage locker after.”

“Right,” replied Jack. “We won’t count that. How far away do you think the money will be?”

“Last time we brought it in a van. This time we rented adjoining rooms. Once the Colombians are frisked, The Toad will just rap on the door. Things should go smooth. We’ve already established a trust with each other. Unless, of course, you do something...”

Jack arrived back at his office. Louie arrived for work an hour later and motioned for him to come in.

“Anything going on?” asked Louie.

“No,” said Jack. “I just talked with my friend but he doesn’t know who the Brit is. Doesn’t think Damien knows either.”

Louie nodded and said, “Too bad. Nothing else happening?”

“No. That was it.”

Louie looked at Jack closely, then said, “Maybe just as well. You need a rest. I want you to take some time off. We’ll find out who the Brit is sooner or later.”

“I’d rather it be sooner.”

“All of us would. The thing is, he obviously knows what you look like. It would be better for everyone concerned right now if you weren’t around. Maybe take a week or two off. You should be with Natasha.”

“I’m okay ... and there’s no way this guy is going to start dictating who works in this office and who doesn’t.”

“Have you thought about Natasha? Cooped up at the farm? She must be worried sick about you. I’m not telling you to run away and hide. Just take a holiday. Maybe I-HIT will nail him in the meantime.”

Jack sighed and said, “I’ll think about it over the weekend. Monday is a holiday so I should be rested by then.”

“Why not take tomorrow off too? In fact, you should take off now.”

“It’s only eight-thirty in the morning.”

“Yeah, and you’ve already put in ... what? Four hours? How many more hours in the last couple of weeks? You’re a newlywed for God’s sake. Start acting like one and go see your bride.”

Jack thought for a moment, then said, “Thanks, Louie. I appreciate what you’re saying. I’ve got some paper work to do. I’ll leave at noon.”

“Good.”

“Anything further from Danny?”

Louie frowned and said, “I spoke with him briefly, tried to be supportive. Don’t think he wants to talk to any of us right now. They’re all getting counselling. I think we should just butt out for now.”

Jack called Natasha and told her that he would be out to the farm shortly after lunch. She said she was pleased, but he heard the irritation in her voice. He knew he couldn’t hold her off much longer from getting back to the clinic.

At noon, Jack stopped at a café for lunch before driving out to the farm. The café did have one thing going for it, thought Jack, as he dabbed a greasy french fry into some ketchup. It was clean and the service was friendly. Unfortunately, it was just a little too busy for Holly to be able to take the time to visit with him.

He watched as she greeted the customers and gave them all big smiles. Sometimes her lips trembled slightly, revealing her real thoughts. It had been less than a month since her husband had been gunned down. Pretending to be happy ... trying to get that extra quarter or loonie for a tip. Welcome to hell.

Jack left a twenty on the table and nodded politely to Holly as he left. He was barely out the door when she came running after him.

“You forgot your change,” she said.

“No, that’s for you. It’s your tip.”

Holly shook her head. “You don’t drop a twenty on someone for a seven-dollar burger. I don’t take charity,” she said, thrusting the twenty toward him.

“It’s not charity. It’s just a tip.”

Tears filled to the brim of her eyelids and she said, “You think you can buy off your guilt for twenty bucks? Forget it! What you ate is on me!”

Jack didn’t know what to say. It occurred to him that she might be right.

“Get the two men who killed my husband and shot Charlie,” she said, “then you can leave me a tip.”

Jack nodded, then reached over and slowly took the twenty from her hand. “You’ll be getting this back soon,” he said. “That’s a promise.”

Natasha waited until she climbed into bed beside Jack, and then whispered, “How much longer?”

Jack pulled her close and she lay with her head on his chest. “I may get a break tomorrow night,” he replied.

“I don’t like the sounds of that,” said Natasha. “You going to be wearing your black turtleneck?”

Jack paused. Natasha was catching on. The black turtleneck was what he often wore at night — usually when he was doing something he shouldn’t be doing. He chose to ignore her question and said, “If all goes well, I may find out who the Brit is in the next few days. Getting tired of being a farmhand?” he added, hoping to change the conversation.

“Incorrect answer, officer. Your failure to respond would indicate a yes to the turtleneck question. As far as changing the subject goes, Liz and Ben have been great. I enjoy being around Marcie, too, but I miss you and I also need to get back to the clinic.”

“It’s just not safe. Not after what happened.” “What is going on tomorrow night? Can you talk about it?”

“Basically, the Brit knows a lawyer by the name of Leitch who works on retainer for Satans Wrath. The bikers don’t know about the Brit, but I know Damien could find out who it is if he wanted to.”

“How? You’re not planning on owing him another favour?”

“Shhh. Ben and Liz are in the next room.”

“You’re not...” whispered Liz.

“No. I’ve used up any favours with him.”

“Why would he find out, then?”

“A character nicknamed The Toad is taking over the club. I want Damien to distrust The Toad. Then I want him to think that The Toad, Leitch, and the Brit are working together. It won’t take him long to find out who the Brit is, providing I can get him back into power. When he does, my friend will know and then so will I.”

“How will you do all this?”

“I’m working on that.”

“What if you do and Leitch refuses to tell Damien?”

Jack chuckled, then said, “Damien isn’t a cop.”

“Meaning?”

“He can be more persuasive.”

Natasha looked up at Jack’s face, then replied, “Oh ... I see.”

chapter twenty-one

It was seven-thirty on Friday night before The Toad and two underlings showed up at the Spotted Owl. Jack was parked in a lot across the street and watched the motel through binoculars. He had seen The Toad last year when he interrupted an executive meeting at Damien’s house, but he glanced at a photo just to be sure.

Jack smiled as he recalled the event. He had intentionally interrupted the meeting on the pretext of returning some colours that had belonged to some bikers who had been killed. Damien was cordial and offered him a beer. The Toad was not pleased and voiced his objection in a thick French accent. An accent that Jack soon hoped to mimic.

Jack now saw that the two underlings each carried a sports bag.

Jack smiled. Very expensive sports bags.

The Toad entered one room while his two cohorts entered the room beside it. Moments later, The Toad opened his door and Jack saw one of the other two bikers behind him. It was obvious that their rooms had an inside adjoining door.

Two hours later, Jack saw an old beat-up white van with tinted rear windows slowly drive through the motel parking lot. The curtains moved slightly in The Toad’s room as someone peeked out.

The two men inside the van paid close attention to all the other parked cars. Eventually the van parked. Jack steadied the binoculars on the top of his steering wheel and watched. The two men talked with each other for a moment, then the passenger bent over out of sight. Seconds later, both men got out of the van. Their complexions told Jack that they were the Colombians. The driver then opened the rear door to the van and removed an object wrapped in a garbage bag.

Scales! Lance was right. This is going to be fast.

Both men then walked over to The Toad’s room and knocked on the door. Seconds later, they disappeared inside. Jack threw the binoculars down and grabbed a roll of duct tape and his balaclava.

Moments later, Jack was inside the van. A quick search under the dash located two handguns. Each with a silencer. Jack put them back, then squatted on the floor in front of the passenger seat and peeked past the seat to the rear. It gave him a view of the motel through the back windows of the van. He gripped his 9mm and waited as the seconds slowly ticked by. He was conscious of a strong odour of coffee in the van. As if my nerves aren’t frayed enough!

Jack hadn’t needed to hurry. Almost forty-five minutes passed before the door to The Toad’s room opened again. One Colombian carried the scales and a sports bag, while his friend carried the other sports bag. They paused at the door and the driver shook hands with The Toad.

Sweat dripping from Jack’s face made a wet spot on the vinyl cover of the seat and he wiped it off with his sleeve as the two Colombians approached the van and opened the rear door. Jack ducked down and heard the sports bags and scales slide across the van floor. He waited until the door slammed shut before quickly making his way into the back of the van and hiding behind the passenger seat.

The passenger door then opened, but the man didn’t get in. Jack heard the sound of numbers being pushed on the man’s cellphone. The driver’s door then opened and the driver stood looking across the seats at his partner.

Panic gripped Jack’s brain. He had hoped the two would quickly enter the van and drive away. His hiding spot behind the passenger’s seat was not large enough to conceal him completely. He had purposely picked the passenger’s seat believing that the driver would be focused on his keys and the ignition upon entering the van. Not standing there with the door open staring in!

Jack held his breath but was conscious of the noise his heart made. It seemed loud inside the metal walls of the van. He stared at the driver’s face, waiting for his eyes to wander to his location. It was dark, but not so dark that he couldn’t be noticed. Outside, he heard the passenger talking in Spanish.

The passenger then yelled, “Okay, amigo! I see you!”

Jack sucked in a mouthful of air and his grip tightened on his gun before he realized that the man, in his broken English, was saying good bye to The Toad.

Seconds later, both men got inside and the driver quickly drove out of the lot. They were barely out on the street when Jack saw the passenger bend over to reach under the dash.

“Okay shit-heads! Don’t move!” screamed Jack, while leaping forward and sticking the barrel of his pistol into the passenger’s ear.

The driver panicked, hitting his brakes and causing his passenger to slam face first into the dash. The movement threw Jack off balance and he waved his pistol back and forth at both their faces while regaining his footing.

The driver started yelling at his passenger in Spanish but stopped when Jack yelled, “Shut up or die! Keep both your hands on the steering wheel!”

Jack grabbed the passenger by the back of his collar and jerked him back into his seat. “Hands behind your head! Now!”

“Señor! No understand!”

Jack made a motion with his own hand behind his head and the passenger clued in.

Jack pointed to a side street and said, “Drive!” The driver made the turn and then pulled over to the curb as directed. Jack held the roll of duct tape between his knees and peeled off a pre-cut strip and handed it to the passenger with his free hand.

“Do it yourself! Over your eyes! Now!”

Moments later, Jack ensured that both Colombians were securely blindfolded. He then took out his cell and punched several numbers, pretending to make a call.

“Hey, Toad! Worked just like you said! We’re just down the street. Hurry up.”

The driver muttered something under his breath. Jack didn’t know much Spanish, but he heard The Toad’s name being used. Questioning the legitimacy of The Toad’s parentage, no doubt.

“Shut the fuck up!” Jack ordered, before allowing himself a moment to take a few slow deep breaths.

Jack then guided the men to the rear compartment of the van and made them sit on the floor. He taped their hands behind their backs and their ankles together, before knocking on the rear window.

Jack opened the rear door of the van and said, “Hey, Toad. What took you so long? Look at this ... I did good, yes?”

Jack then stuck his head around the back of the van door and lowered his voice and put his hand over his mouth and gave a guttural, “Oui!” He then leaned back inside the van and said in his normal voice, “Here, I’ll pass you the money.”

Jack slid the sports bags across the floor of the van, then gently lowered them to the ground outside where they could not be seen from within. He then said, “Yeah, I’ll sit with ’em for ten minutes just in case they get a call. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they say the right thing! If they don’t, I’ll see it in their eyes. Besides, mia hablo Espanol!”

Jack then closed the rear door and ripped the tape off the men’s eyes and mouths. He took the cellphone out of the passenger’s pocket and held it close to the man’s face. “If this rings, amigo, you say everything is okay ... or else you die!”

The men stared back at him. The driver’s wide eyes and the sweat glistening on his forehead revealed his fear. The passenger was different. His eyes looked dark and angry.

Jack put their phone in his jacket pocket and sat on the floor of the van. He frequently looked at his watch while he waited, ignoring the stares from his captives. After ten minutes he used his own cell to place another fake call.

“Toad ... what’s taking you so long? Thought you would have called by now.”

Jack pretended to listen for a moment, then said, “The ship’s unloaded?” He glanced at his two captives and added, “You want me to kill ’em now?”

The passenger no longer looked angry. His eyes widened and he whispered to his friend.

“Hang on,” continued Jack, “why not do it in another hour? This street is basically deserted.” Jack paused, pretending to listen, then said, “No...” while reaching around to his hip and pulling a hunting knife out of the scabbard. “I’ll slash their throats like you said. No noise, but that’s not what I meant. This street is deserted so it’s not like any of their friends will find us. There’s no rush. Why not wait an hour just to make sure our guys are far away from the ship?” Jack paused again and saw both men with their mouths open, straining to hear every word. “I disagree! Toad, if we just ... Toad? Toad?”

Jack cursed and shoved his phone back in his pocket. He stared at the two men while slapping the blade of the knife against his open palm.

“Señor. Please. I have children to feed,” pleaded the driver.

“Shut the fuck up,” said Jack, getting to his feet. “Both of you, slide together back to back. I’m gonna tie ya together instead o’ killin’ ya.”

They did as directed and Jack wrapped several strands of duct tape around both men’s chests, tying them together. He then used his knife to cut the end of the tape. A flicker of the passenger’s eyes told him it was noticed that he had placed the knife on the floor of the van while pretending to ensure that his captives were bound properly.

“Señor ... thank you for letting us live,” said the driver.

“Fuck that,” said Jack, while taping their mouths again. “I’ll be back soon to finish the job.”

Jack went out through the rear door of the van and slammed the door behind him. He grabbed both sports bags and went back to his car and waited. It didn’t take long before he spied the two Colombians creeping through the parking lot toward The Toad’s room.

Jack adjusted the focus on his binoculars and saw that each held a pistol. He watched as one stepped back from the door, raising his foot to kick, when the door unexpectedly opened in front of him.

A biker stood for a moment, with an ice bucket in his hand and his mouth drooped open. Jack didn’t hear anything but saw the biker’s head jerk and knew where the first bullet struck him as his body crumpled to the floor. The Colombians ran inside. A few seconds later, Jack saw one Colombian casually look outside before closing the door. Several minutes passed, and then the Colombians left the room and went to the parking lot. They tried two different vehicles before finding the one that the keys matched.

Their search for the money was fruitless, and Jack chuckled out loud as he watched them gesture and point in anger before running back to where they had left their van.

Jack drove out of his parking spot and saw the van enter the main street and then drive off in the opposite direction. A minute later, Jack parked behind the motel and went to his trunk and put on some latex gloves and a toque. He walked around to the front of the unit and stepped inside. One biker was sprawled on his back on the floor. One eye was open, but the other eye had been replaced by a bullet hole. The second biker was sitting in a chair, slumped face-down on the table. Blood oozed out of his forehead.

The Toad was still lying on top of the bed, partially propped up with pillows. His chin was resting on his chest. Jack went over to check his pulse but realized that The Toad had taken two bullets to his heart.

I wish whoever taught the Colombians to shoot would teach me.

Jack went to the rear of the unit and opened up a bathroom window overlooking the back of the motel. Seconds later, his cell vibrated. He was expecting a call, but his nerves were taught and his body surged with more adrenalin.

“You told me to call when it was done,” said Lance. “Did I wake ya?”

“No,” replied Jack. “It’s only eleven. I was just getting ready for bed,” he said, glancing at The Toad. “How did it go?”

“Smooth as shit. Went down just like I told ya.”

“Good. Glad it went okay.”

“Man, I was a little nervous. Appreciate you sitting this one out.”

“Yeah, well ... maybe next time. What are you doing now?”

“Goin’ home and gettin’ some rest. Do you want the details?”

“Later. We’ll meet next week and you can tell me then.”

Jack shut off his phone and bent over the bed. Okay, Toad. Hibernation time.

chapter twenty-two

It was after midnight when Danny answered the phone on his bedside table. He saw Susan as she walked in and stood in the doorway. She had been sitting in a chair in the children’s room.

“Danny ... sorry to wake you, but I need help.”

Danny looked at Susan and said, “It’s Jack.”

Susan didn’t reply but stood and stared at her husband.

“What do you want?” asked Danny as he spoke to Jack but continued to look into Susan’s eyes.

“I need a friend right now. A good friend. Tonight, before the sun comes up.”

Danny paused as Jack’s cryptic message sunk in, then said, “Forget it! I don’t want you calling...”

“Please, Danny,” pleaded Jack. “Just listen. I’m really close to identifying the guy that did this to your family. He was at the funeral for Holly’s husband.

That’s how he ID’d us. Elvis identified him as the same guy who met Leitch in the park. Looks Indo and has a British accent. I’ve got a plan. I’m going to trick Damien into identifying him for us.”

“No,” said Danny quietly.

“You don’t get it! We can nail him within the week! He won’t be trying to kill any more babies!”

“Damn it, Jack! You don’t get it! I don’t care if you catch him! I’m done! I want out!”

“Danny ... you’re just ... probably PTSD,” said Jack, speaking rapidly. “Try to calm down and think about —”

“You’re fuckin’ right I’m stressed! So is my whole family! All I want is to get Susan, Tiff, and Jimmy the hell away from here — and from you!”

“Danny, I’m sorry. I —”

“Don’t ever call again!” Danny said, before slamming the receiver back down.

It was after one o’clock in the morning when Laura drove past a cemetery and then spotted Jack parked nearby on a quiet street as per his directions. She parked and then hurried over and joined him.

“What’s up?” she asked, glancing around. “You got the eye on someone?”

“No, it’s not surveillance,” replied Jack. “I lied.”

“You lied? Three or four days before I’m even supposed to start working with you and you’re already lying to me?”

“I just thought it would be easier to explain once you got here.”

Laura studied him briefly, then said, “Well, I’m here.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, then said, “The other day you offered to be my friend.”

Laura nodded.

“What I need right now is a good friend.”

Laura looked at Jack but didn’t reply.

“Do you understand the difference?” “Don’t know what you’re getting at. Sorry. Maybe I’m not awake yet.”

“A friend is someone who would help you move.”

Laura nodded. “A good friend is someone who would help you move a body.”

Laura snickered, then said, “Yeah, right. Good one. So what’s really going on?” She saw Jack’s face partially illuminated by a streetlight. It was a face that looked desperate. A sense of dread overtook her when she realized he was serious. “Does this have something to do with who tried to kill O’Reilly’s baby?” she asked.

“Basically,” Jack replied.

Laura didn’t speak for almost a minute.

Jack didn’t interrupt her thoughts. What he was asking her was to risk everything she had.

Finally she spoke. Her words were a whisper. “If this is about the guy who attacked the O’Reilly family, then I could be a good friend.”

“Are you sure?” Jack asked. “I know you. I remember when I worked an operation with you in Alberta. You made me stop the car to rescue a gopher that was snagged on something.”

“That’s cuz gophers don’t kill babies.”

Jack nodded, then said, “Okay. We don’t have much time.”

“Who, when, and where?”

“Right now ... and he’s in the trunk.”

“You’re not serious!”

Jack quietly handed her the keys and sat in the car while she went to look. She saw the man’s body wrapped in a yellow plastic police emergency blanket. A shovel was also in the trunk.

“Oh, man,” she mumbled, then got back in the car. “You killed the guy?” she asked.

Jack shook his head, then replied, “No. He was already dead when I found him.”

“And he’s the piece of shit who likes to kill babies?”

“No, but he is a piece of shit. He’s a — he was — a member of Satans Wrath. If he disappears, I expect we’ll find out real fast who tried to drown Jimmy and murdered the guy who had my name.”

“What is going on?” asked Laura. Her voice sounded quiet but firm.

Jack quickly explained what had happened, along with his plan. Laura glanced into the back seat at the two sports bags, then reached over and unzipped one of them. She dug her hand briefly through a few of the layers of bundles of money before zipping the bag closed.

“If The Toad and the money are missing,” continued Jack, “it will look like The Toad ripped everyone off. I’ve already found a fresh grave. We’ll just make it two for the price of one. It won’t take long, but I need you to distract the security guard when he comes by.”

“Are you on medication?” asked Laura, sounding serious.

Jack shook his head and said, “I’m not crazy. This will work. Once I spread the rumour that The Toad was working with the Brit, it won’t take Damien long to find out. When he does, my friend will also know. My friend thinks Leitch launders money so it would fit that he could be involved in the rip along with The Toad.”

“Have you tried following Leitch?”

“Ask Elvis about that. They did, along with I-HIT. They got burned. Leitch would have warned the Brit. Whoever this guy is, he has to have a lot of clout to get Leitch to show him secret police reports before the bikers even see them. You can bet he’ll be extremely cautious. I doubt that any future surveillance on Leitch would be successful.”

“But your friend could find out through Damien?”

“If Damien knows, then my friend will know. I want to put all the heat on The Toad and spread the rumour that The Toad, Leitch, and the Brit are in cahoots. With The Toad gone, Damien should step back into power. In the unlikely event my source isn’t made privy to the Brit’s identity, Damien might be willing to help me. He’ll think it’s in our common interests. He’ll want the money and revenge, and we want the Brit.”

“Really?” said Laura. “Damien might help you?” Jack caught her suspicious look and said, “He’s helped me before.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Don’t even go there.”

Laura studied Jack’s face for a moment, then said, “So how do you get Damien to think the heat was on The Toad? He’s not stupid.”

“I’ll put word out that we were working on The Toad when he led us to the Brit and Leitch. One of our narcs is supplying info to Satans Wrath.”

“I know. Elvis told me.”

“If the info comes to Damien through the dirty narc, he’ll be inclined to believe it’s true. Especially with The Toad and the money disappearing. To protect my friend, I’ll indicate my informant is a hooker who was servicing The Toad. I’ll say she saw The Toad meet with the Brit who then met with Leitch that day in the park. Damien won’t know what to think.”

“What about the Colombians?”

“They barely speak English. Everyone will be confused. It doesn’t really matter. What counts is that Damien will grab Leitch and find out who the Brit is. I know this isn’t exactly by the book, but...”

“By the book? Oh, man! It is in the book. The Criminal Code of Canada! We’ll both end up in the crow-bar hotel.”

“Not if we’re careful. But I understand. If you want to back out, go ahead. This is the only plan I could come up with to protect my source and find out who the Brit is.”

“So you plan to lie to everyone about this hooker and the park thing?”

“Satans Wrath have too many of their own sources and are always developing new ones. I don’t believe in telling our people anything that isn’t necessary for them to know.”

“Did it ever occur to you that you might have a trust issue?”

“I always have a trust issue.”

“Glad you recognize it. Maybe there’s a twelve-step program you could take.”

“There is. I can walk past a dozen tombstones of people who died because someone trusted the wrong person.”

Laura decided to ignore the remark and said, “So when you do find out who the Brit is ... what then? Turn him over to I-HIT?”

“Something like that.”

“What do you mean, ‘something like that’?”

“Put yourself in Susan’s position. Imagine being tied to a chair while you watch your baby being tossed in a swimming pool ... then being left there to watch for the next half-hour.”

“I’ve thought about that,” said Laura quietly. “Often.”

“If that doesn’t get you, then think about Holly’s dead husband and a toddler by the name of Charlie spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair.”

“So what are you getting at?”

“We have no solid evidence on the Brit to link him to anything. Just a picture of a guy in a van looking out while I’m getting a call on my cellphone. Even if he was convicted, do you really think that ten or fifteen years in jail is enough for what he did?”

“So what are you saying? That we should just shoot him?”

“Personally I think that is letting him off too easy.” Jack thought briefly about two other murders. His niece and nephew. They were killed by bikers, but someone else — Bishop — gave the orders. He looked at Laura and added, “We don’t even know if the Brit is responsible. He could be working for someone else.”

Laura stared back at him without speaking.

Jack waited for a moment, then said, “All I’m saying is we can cross that bridge together when we come to it. Who knows what opportunities will arise along the way.”

“Opportunities? Like what?”

“Take tonight. I didn’t expect to get this lucky, with the bad guys killing each other and me ending up with $3.5 million. Believe me, I understand your concern.”

“This wasn’t luck. You orchestrated what took place tonight.”

“I didn’t know for sure the bikers would get whacked. As long as I had the money, it would make The Toad look bad. My plan still would have worked as long as Damien was suspicious of The Toad.”

“That aside, when the time comes to cross that bridge you spoke of, what then?”

“If you are going to be my partner, we’ll discuss it then.”

Laura sat in silence.

Jack waited briefly and then said, “Today was a chance to give Satans Wrath a good kick in the balls. Besides losing the money, we’ve just cut off their Colombian connection.”

Laura gestured to the sports bags in the back seat and asked, “What do you plan on doing with that?”

Jack sighed, then admitted, “There was another reason I did this tonight.”

“You wanted to pay off your Visa?”

“I couldn’t stand the idea that the bad guys had this much money while Holly can’t even afford to buy a wheelchair. In a little while, when things cool down, $1 million goes anonymously to her. Later, in dribs and drabs over a year, the rest to spinal cord research.”

“That should make Holly happy.”

“It’s not that much when you consider the expenses she’s going to have. Even if she buys the most modest home, she’ll still be lucky if she has enough left over to cover expenses for the rest of Charlie’s life.”

Laura nodded, then said, “Considering what she lost — her family, her baby — nothing could compensate for that.”

“You got that right.”

“The Colombians will still want the rest of their money back.”

“Let Satans Wrath figure that out. They’ve still got the coke so it won’t take them long to repay. Maybe they won’t even bother. They’ll know the Colombians won’t deal with them again.”

Laura remained silent.

“So that’s the story. Do you want to help me ... or arrest me?”

Laura continued to remain silent.

Jack stared at her, then said, “I can’t take the stress any longer.” He withdrew his gun and dropped it in her lap and said, “I’m exhausted, burnt out ... and this conversation is killing me. If you want to call and have me busted, go ahead.”

Laura sighed, then said, “This is absolutely nuts. Maybe it’s not too late. Let’s haul the body back to the motel. We can’t be doing this. It’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong about it? The guy is even getting a proper burial — almost.”

Laura glanced at her watch and saw that they didn’t have much time. Even taking the body back could land us both in jail. She thought for a moment and then said, “Just a minute,” and went to the trunk and took another look.

“What were you doing?” Jack asked when she returned.

“Small calibre that plugged him. Hardly any blood,” she said, while handing Jack his gun back. “Obviously wasn’t your piece.”

“I told you I didn’t shoot him.”

“So you said, but you also lie to people. Let’s take him back. There’s still time.”

Jack tried to wipe the sleep and stress from his eyes, then turned on the interior light and said, “Take a look at the picture stuck in the sun visor.”

Laura removed the picture.

“That’s Charlie taking his first steps. I want you to imagine him in a wheelchair, maybe for the rest of his life. I want you to picture his mother. Stuck with raising a paraplegic baby and another child who is only four years old.”

Laura looked at Jack.

“Don’t look at me! Look at the picture! Right now there is no cure, but research indicates that spinal cord repair and regeneration is possible. A cure for paralysis could be as close as ten years away, but it takes money! Tell me again that what I am doing is wrong! You really think we should turn this money over to the politicians! Come with me now if you’re not convinced. We’ll go to BCCH and I’ll introduce you to Charlie face to face! After that you can drop in and have a tea with Susan O’Reilly.”

Laura was silent for a moment, but her hand shook as she held the photo. Then she put the photo back and said, “You know how to get to my under-belly, don’t you?”

“Yes ... because my feelings are the same as yours.”

“You’re lucky I was stationed in Alberta. I know the expression ‘shoot, shovel, and shut up.’ Looks like the shooting is done. Time now to shovel and shut up.”

“You’re sure?”

Laura ignored him and continued, “There is one condition. If we find the Brit, we turn him over to I-HIT.”

Jack took a deep breath and then let it out. “Thanks. I agree. From what Danny says, you’re probably right on that account.”

Moments later, Laura followed Jack’s car in her own through the cemetery gate and along a narrow path lined with tombstones. He parked over a small hill, near a grave laden with flowers. They both got out of their cars to talk.

“This one is fresh,” said Jack. “I’ll have to remember exactly how the flowers were laid, as well as how the sod was re-laid. It shouldn’t take me long to shovel and I’ve got spare blankets so the dirt won’t show.”

“Too bad you didn’t find a fresh hole. Bury him a little and have the coffin go on top.”

“I’ve checked. They have liners that go inside with a cover on top. Someone would know if it was tampered with.”

Laura glanced at Jack and said, “Out of curiosity, how long have you really been planning this?”

“As I said, I didn’t know what was going to happen until tonight.”

“Then ... do you have other people buried in here?” Jack nodded.

Oh, man...

“My niece and nephew.”

“Oh! Right,” she said, and then blurted, “I heard Bishop was killed in an accident in Mexico.”

“Yeah, I heard that too. Come on. Help me with the blankets and flowers. Maybe the sod, too. Then get down by the gate and park at the entrance. Security came through when you first arrived. We should have about three hours. I should be done by then, but if I’m not, you stop him.”

Laura nodded and said, “I’ll be the grieving lady in distress. I should be able to handle it.”

Jack opened the trunk and turned to Laura and said, “Welcome to your first shift on Intelligence. Looks like you and I are about to become good friends.”

Laura gave Jack a hard look and said, “Don’t make fun of this. Would your wife stick by you if she knew what you were doing?”

“She wouldn’t be happy, but I think she would agree with it.”

“Maybe that’s because she doesn’t work in Anti-Corruption.”

Her words were not lost on Jack. It’s easier to be brave when you don’t have so much to lose. It occurred to him that Laura might be one of the bravest people he ever met.

In Colombia, Carlos flung his telephone against the wall and swore. Because Damien lives in Canada, he thinks he can spit in my face! His orders were clear. Retaliation would be immediate!

Jack had made two serious miscalculations. First, he had presumed that Carlos was a businessman and relatively sane. Second, he knew Damien as a pragmatist and had expected him to react calmly and logically to a situation that would see his power restored.

chapter twenty-three

It was taking Jack much longer than he had expected. More than three hours passed before he lifted The Toad out of the trunk and placed him in the grave. He was exhausted. It would take at least another hour to finish.

He was just starting to shovel the dirt back in when an arc of headlights over the hill and the sound of a horn at the gate caused his body to tense.

Laura pretended she didn’t notice the small white car with SECURITY printed on the door as it slowed down on the street before turning in and parking behind her. She discreetly unbuttoned the top two buttons on her blouse, then held her face in her hands and started crying.

Moments later, the beam from the security guard’s flashlight hit her face. Her mouth and eyes opened wide with apparent shock. Her elbow hit the horn as she scrambled to roll the window down.

“Miss, what are you doing here? I’m going to ask you to move your car immediately. You’re blocking the entrance.”

“Oh, sir. I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Can’t you just drive around me?”

“It’s pretty tight,” he replied. “Still, would you mind explaining to me...” He stopped when his flashlight beam fell upon Laura’s sleeves.

Jack had provided her with surgical gloves to help roll back the sod, but they had not protected her arms. Now she saw dried mud on both sleeves.

“I want you to step out of the car, now!” he ordered.

Oh, man...

Laura stepped out and the security guard shone his flashlight over her body, then saw that her shoes were also muddy. He held the flashlight above his head and slowly shone a beam of light across the cemetery grounds. “What have you been doing in here?” he demanded.

“I’m sorry,” sobbed Laura. “I’m sure I killed it. I don’t know what to do,” she wailed.

“You what?”

“The cat,” said Laura, pointing down the street toward the corner of the cemetery grounds. “Down there, by the culvert. I was driving and it just ran out in front of me.” She put her hand on the guard’s arm and added, “I tried to stop! But I ... just couldn’t. I heard the noise of its little head under my car. My God, it was sickening. I can’t bear to think about it!”

“Oh!” said the guard as he shone his light toward the corner. “I didn’t ... I’m sorry. Take it easy. It’s not your fault if...”

“I, I pulled in here and ran back. I thought I heard it down in the culvert. I reached in, but I couldn’t find it. It’s so dark and dirty down there. I don’t know what to do. We can’t just leave it there!”

The security guard allowed his flashlight to pan Laura’s body one more time before saying, “Come on, hop in with me. Show me exactly where. We can use my flashlight to look.”

Laura rode with the security guard and directed him to park down the block.

“It’s almost four-thirty in the morning,” noted the security guard. “You always out this late?”

“Not usually. My girlfriend organized a singles party. By the time I helped her clean up, it was pretty late. She wanted me to sleep there. Wish I had.”

“Really?” The security guard’s tone revealed his interest as he adjusted his rear-view mirror lower than it should have been. “Meet anybody interesting?”

“No,” said Laura glumly. “Just the usual beaters, cheaters, and bottom feeders. Sprinkled with a few who were either emotionally or physically gimped. Then there were a couple of gays and lesbians. Wasn’t for me. The men I did talk to were wussies.” She then glanced at him and said, “Isn’t your job dangerous? Working out here all alone at night?”

The first rays of sunlight were visible on some scattered clouds to the east when Jack slowly drove past Laura and the security guard. They were still parked at the end of the block and Laura was drinking out of a Thermos cup.

Fifteen minutes later, Laura parked behind Jack and walked to his car. She turned her back briefly as she remembered to do up the buttons on her blouse, then got in.

“What took you so long?” she asked. “If I had to sit another minute with that wannabe cop I’d be digging him a hole in there!”

Jack allowed himself a grin, then said, “Sorry. It was a lot tougher to do than I thought it would be.”

“Oh? So this is the first time you’ve done this?”

Jack ignored the question and said, “Let’s find a washroom to clean up. Then go sit on the Spotted Owl.”

“Speaking of that, how come you’re not dirty?”

“Had an old pair of coveralls in the trunk. Bought them last year for Danny when he had to do surveil-lance from a pile of garbage.”

“Would have been nice if you had thought to provide me with a pair,” she said, gesturing to the dried mud on her sleeves. “Not to mention, my shoes are ruined.”

It was six-thirty when Laura used the binoculars to scan the motel from a lot across the street. “How long, you figure?” she asked.

“There’s a bloody smear on the sidewalk outside the door. Someone should notice.”

Damien thanked Vicki when she poured him another cup of coffee, then went back to reading the morning paper. It was nine o’clock in the morning. Buck and Sarah were still in bed, but Katie was up and chatting with excitement about going to an afternoon birthday party. Vicki had promised to take her shopping for new clothes for the event.

Damien leapt from his chair when Katie toppled her glass of orange juice, sending the liquid over the edge of the table.

“Sorry, Dad! It slipped!”

“It’s okay,” he grumbled. “Quit talking and get a cloth.”

Vicki smiled at her husband and said, “It’s a pretty big event. Not every day that your much older friend turns nine.”

Damien rolled his eyes, then said, “Right. Older by what? Five months?”

“We’ll leave in a few minutes, honest,” said Vicki, kissing Damien on his forehead as he sat back down.

Damien received a message on his BlackBerry. It was from Lance. The message was coded but told him that the shipments had gone as planned last night.

Is this good news or bad? Good news is I’ll be getting my money back. Bad news is there’s little doubt as to who will be the new national president.

“See ya in about two hours, Papa Bear,” said Vicki, giving him another kiss on the top of his head.

“Goodbye, Daddy.”

Damien wrapped one arm around Katie and gave her a hug and then a kiss. “Tell Mommy that she’s not to spend more than five dollars on you,” he said.

“Daddy!”

Damien chuckled, but his joy turned sour as soon as Vicki and Katie left. The Toad isn’t the type to want anyone with brains around who could question his actions once he takes over. Surprised he isn’t here gloating right now.... Hope his hangover kills him.

Vicki found a place to park, then opened her door to get out. She was thinking that her life had been blessed. Her family was happy and healthy, and her husband had climbed his way to the top of the ... corporate ladder. She smirked when she thought of it as a corporation. But that’s what it is, isn’t it? An international corporation continuing to expand around the world. This thing with the new mortgage and The Toad ... somehow it would work out. It always did.

She had turned in her seat and placed one foot out of the Hummer when a man’s fist buried deep into her midriff. The air exploded from her lungs and her body doubled over as the force of the punch rammed her backwards across the seat.

Vicki gasped for air as she tried to scream, but the man’s fingers and thumb formed a claw to dig deep into her throat and squeeze until she felt her windpipe begin to collapse. She lay still, hoping he would stop. He stopped squeezing but kept the pressure on her throat.

Vicki saw other men moving about. She saw a man gripping Katie by the throat. Katie’s bulging eyes briefly stared down at her as she was dragged out of sight to the rear of the Hummer.

“Think we’ve got action!” said Laura. “The maid stopped her cart outside the door.”

“Too bad,” replied Jack. “I was just starting to doze off.”

“She’s kneeling down and looking up ... now she’s standing ... knocking.” Laura passed the binoculars over to Jack.

“Using her pass key,” he said, then lowered the binoculars. “Guess you don’t need binos to see that!”

The maid ran across the parking lot to the office. Jack and Laura looked at each other and then slumped low in their seats.

Vicki and Katie were gagged, blindfolded, and bound, with their wrists taped together behind their backs. Vicki guessed that her Hummer had been driving for half an hour before it stopped. Then she heard the sound of a large overhead door close.

Moments later they were both hauled out and the tape was ripped from their eyes. Vicki saw that they were in a small warehouse. The strong smell of coffee was in the air and burlap sacks were piled on various pallets.

Two men held Vicki and Katie by the arms and roughly jerked them along to a pallet that contained only a few bags. Then they were shoved and fell beside each other onto the pallet. The two men stood over them, watching as Katie cried and choked through her gag.

Then two more men approached. One was carrying bolt cutters. The other rolled Vicki over onto her stomach and then grabbed her hands. She tried to scream but the gag prevented any real noise as she twisted and rolled her body. She managed to roll over, digging her fingers into the sack for support and kicking upwards with her feet.

The men stood up, then looked at each other and laughed. They spoke to each other in Spanish.

Vicki did not know these men. Perhaps it was better that she didn’t.

They were hand-picked from an army of desperate, violent men who wanted a share of the narco dollars. Carlos did not pick them because of their limited knowledge of English or even their willingness to do anything he asked. He picked them because they were likely insane. They inspired terror and would do anything asked of them. It was simply human nature to pick people who are like you — albeit not as intelligent.

Seconds later, both men were on her again. She fought and kicked hard. Katie got to her feet and kicked one of the men. He punched her hard in the mouth and she fell to the ground and didn’t move.

Vicki quit kicking. Tears blocked her vision and she allowed herself to be rolled back over onto her stomach. She was conscious of the taste of coffee beans on her lips from where a sack had been torn. She felt a man’s grip on her fingers and the cool metal of the bolt cutters as the pinchers tightened on her finger. For a brief instant, her brain refused to accept that the sound she heard, like celery being crunched, had come from her own body. For a moment it was as if her brain had detached itself from her body. She heard her own muffled cry as if it came from someone else, but then she felt incredible pain and knew the voice was hers. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying in vain to block it out.

chapter twenty-four

Connie Crane and her partner arrived at the motel and a uniformed officer waved to them from the doorway of one of the units.

“Call came in about forty minutes ago,” he said as they approached.

Connie glanced at her watch and replied, “About nine-thirty, then?”

He nodded and stepped aside to allow them to enter.

Connie did a brief examination of the room while her partner fished wallets from each of the two victims. One had a pistol in his belt, and Connie saw a Mac-10 pistol lying on the bed in the adjoining room.

The radio response to their inquiries came back within seconds. Both victims were listed as probation-ary member of Satans Wrath out of Montreal.

“Gee, that’s a big surprise,” said Connie sarcastically.

“What the hell are they doing out here?” her partner asked.

“Dope deal gone bad,” replied Connie.

“You find dope?”

“No, but this door is open to the adjoining room. There’s a blood smear in the bathroom and it looks like a third guy escaped out the back window. These two yo-yos were killed instantly so it wasn’t them moving around.”

“Could be dope. They have lots of firepower.”

Connie nodded and said, “That’s their number one money-maker. Three guys — bikers — in adjoining rooms with only a double bed in each. They weren’t here to sleep. Probably using the other room as either security or to stash the money or the dope. Being from Quebec even fits. Last year Intelligence discovered that assholes from Satans Wrath in Quebec were running speed out here.”

“Who would have the balls to waste a couple of these guys?”

Connie glanced around the room, then replied, “No sign of forced entry. I bet whoever did this was known to them. They didn’t even have their guns out. Alert the hospitals to be on the lookout for anyone coming in with potential GSWs. Let’s see if we can find who did this before the bikers do.”

Fifteen minutes later Jack walked into the motel room. “Hi, CC. Want some help?” he said.

Connie turned around in surprise. Jack was already in the room and she saw Laura looking in from the doorway. “Careful! We’re still waiting for Forensics to arrive.”

“Hi, Connie,” said Laura. “There’s a blood smear on the sidewalk.”

“We know.” Connie looked at Jack and asked, “How the hell did you hear about this and get here so fast? It’s Saturday morning of a long weekend,” she added.

“A source I’ve known for a long time told me that three Satans Wrath members from Montreal were in town to do a major dope deal this weekend. An executive of the club known as The Toad and two strikers. Apparently they were to hand off three or four million bucks to buy dope.”

“Three or four million!” said Connie’s partner. “I guess that could give someone the balls to do this!”

“Recently I turned another informant — a hooker — who knows The Toad. We were meeting her when we heard your radio transmission about the two strikers. She has been servicing The Toad since he arrived. She said that back on the second of May, she was with The Toad and saw him meet some dark-skinned guy on Robson Street. She says the dark-skinned guy then walked across the street to a park and met with Lawrence Leitch. He’s a lawyer that Satans Wrath uses.”

“I know about that!” said Connie. “We were working with...” She paused and looked at Jack and said, “Wait a minute, that was almost three weeks ago! You telling me that some hooker can remember an exact date that long ago?”

Laura leaned against the doorway and watched. This ought to be good.

“Definitely,” replied Jack, his face expressionless as he stared at CC. “She said she remembered it because of something she had said to The Toad the day before and he joked to her about it as they drove past the park.”

“Which was?” demanded CC.

“She had said, ‘Hooray, hooray, it’s the first of May — outdoor screwing starts today!’”

Laura snickered to herself, more at the sincere look on Jack’s face than his words.

“Oh,” replied CC, eyeing Jack warily. “I was there that day with” — she glanced at Laura — “your husband. That was over the Molen incident. This Toad is tied in with the guy we call the Brit? The same son of a bitch who attacked the O’Reillys and murdered Holly’s husband and shot their baby?”

“Has to be,” said Jack. “The Toad told my informant to wait for him in the car. She said he was acting really kinky and paranoid. She followed him and only caught a quick glimpse of the action.”

“Damn it! I was there that day. I didn’t notice any hooker or The Toad,” said Connie.

“How would you have known?” replied Jack. “It’s not your fault,” he added, while stepping over to look at the face of the biker lying on the floor. He looked closely at the biker who was sprawled face-down on the table.

“Be careful,” said Connie. “Forensics hasn’t —”

“Just making sure that either of these two isn’t The Toad. They switch identities like most people change underwear. They’re not. No money here, I take it?”

Connie shook her head.

“There’s a rental out front. Could be theirs.”

“It is. We already checked. No bags of money.”

“Sure, you say that now,” said Jack. “I’ll be watching. If you two retire next week I’m coming after you.”

Connie grinned and replied, “Don’t I wish.” Her face then became serious and she asked, “Any suggestions? Can your sources help us out? We think one guy was wounded and escaped out the bathroom window.”

Jack rubbed his chin and thought for a moment, then said, “Maybe The Toad decided to retire early. The bikers probably had security out front. Bet that’s why he slipped out the back.”

“But who would have shot him?” said Connie. “There’s some blood on the bedspread and a smear on the bathroom wall. Neither victim had a gun in his hand.”

“Who says he was shot?” said Jack. “This guy sprawled out on the floor ... maybe he saw it coming and got a punch in. The Toad might only have a broken nose.”

Connie considered this and then said, “Guess that’s possible.” She paused, then asked, “Your hooker friend have any leads as to where he might be?”

“I’ll check. You should call the narcs right away and tell them what I told you. This much action should have their sources talking. Tell them I have a hooker close to The Toad. Maybe something will click with them. If The Toad is running off with the club’s money, he won’t be sticking around long. Maybe one of the narcs will know something to identify the Brit. If we find him, I bet we find The Toad as well.”

Connie looked carefully at Jack as she digested what he said.

“We’ll head out now,” said Jack, moving toward the door. “Tell our source to get to work.”

“Not so fast, Jack!” said Connie.

Laura felt a lump in her throat. Oh man ... I knew we couldn’t pull this off!

“What’s the problem?” asked Jack.

“Your DNA,” said Laura. “It’ll be all over the room now. We’ll need a sample for elimination.”

Laura had wondered why Jack had moved around the room. Now she knew.

Jack and Laura were just returning to their car when Jack received a call on his cell.

“You said you wouldn’t bust our guys! I’m dead! I’m fucking dead!”

Jack recognized Lance’s voice and said, “Your guys weren’t busted.”

“Bullshit! I just left the motel. There are cops all over the place! The Toad’s not answering or returning calls!”

“I know. I’m at the motel now. I was notified about it through Homicide.”

“Homicide?”

“The maid checked the room this morning. Both strikers are dead and The Toad is missing. Looks like he took the money and split.”

“You’ve got to be fuckin’ kidding me!” “We should come and meet you and talk about it.” “Danny back in action?” “No,” said Jack, glancing over at Laura. “I’ve got a new partner. You can trust her.”

“It’s a her? Oh fuck!”

“She’s a ... good friend. Trust me.”

“Yeah, like I have a choice.”

On their way to meet Lance, Laura asked, “How long do you think it will be before Damien hears the whopper you just told Connie?”

“Wish we knew who the dirty narc is. Regardless, the club is out a few bucks. Not to mention two dead strikers and a missing toad. The heat will be on. I bet Damien hears the story by Monday or Tuesday. The friend I’m about to introduce to you will hear when Damien finds out.”

Jack introduced Laura to Lance. He was polite but mostly ignored her. Bikers tended to view women as property. Not as anyone you would listen to, let alone take orders from. At the moment he had too many other things on his mind to worry about Laura.

“What the hell happened? Who whacked ’em? Where’s The Toad?”

“We don’t know,” said Jack. “You called me last night to say everything was okay. That it was a done deal!”

“It was! I don’t know anything about this!”

“You said nobody knew about the motel except you and The Toad,” said Jack accusingly.

“And the Colombians,” said Lance. “But that don’t make sense. They were already paid before I...” Lance stopped and glanced at Laura.

“She knows,” said Jack. “I trust her. You’re going to have to do the same.”

“Yeah, well ... anyway. They were paid before the ship was unloaded. So why would someone kill ’em?”

“Have you talked with Damien? Maybe The Toad is with him.”

“Not yet. Guess I better send him a short message, then drive over to talk details.”

“Do it, but first call the motel office and see if they’ll tell you what happened.”

Lance understood, and a couple of minutes later a clerk at the motel admitted that two guests had been murdered.

“Good,” said Jack. “Now tell Damien you went to look for The Toad and saw cops all over and called the motel. Call me as soon as you’re done meeting with him.”

After Lance left, Laura suggested, “Home to bed?”

“Think you can sleep?”

“I might. When I get really stressed I feel like my whole system shuts down. All I want to do is close my eyes.”

Jack nodded, then gestured toward the back of the car and said, “Right after I stash what’s in the trunk.”

“Three-point-five. You’re going to have a lumpy mattress.”

“Actually ... I rented a storage locker the other day.”

“I knew it! How long have you been planning all this?” she said, letting her exasperation show.

“The storage locker was for something else a couple of weeks ago.”

“Something else?” She paused, then asked, “You have a freezer in there?”

Jack smiled, then replied, “You are tired. If I had a freezer in there I wouldn’t have had to call you out last night. Great idea, though. Maybe I should get one and extend the rental.”

“If you do, get a new partner while you’re at it. No wonder Danny is on stress leave.”

Laura had meant it as humour but saw the look on Jack’s face and was embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” she said, “that was a dumb thing to say.”

“Not your fault. I just feel bad about how things turned out between me and Danny.”

Jack noticed that Laura was silent as he drove her back to her car. Then he saw that she was shaking. “Cold?” he said, turning up the heat.

“It’s not the cold. I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“Of what I did! Helping you!”

“Now it hits you?”

Laura opened and closed her fists a few times to try to regain control.

“Afraid we’ll get caught?” asked Jack. “A little. More worried about whether or not I did the right thing.”

“When we catch the Brit you’ll feel like you did the right thing.”

Laura sighed and said, “I know. I’m not blaming you. I made my own decision.” She paused a moment and then added, “Although it bugs me that you made me look at Charlie’s picture. I feel manipulated.”

“Kind of late to change what we did now.”

“I’m not saying we should. I’m just not sure what we did was right.”

Jack felt the acid in his empty stomach as he worried about Laura having second doubts. He glanced at her and said, “What we did was right.” He then paused and said, “Sorry about the manipulation. Won’t let it happen again.”

“Yeah, right. As if I really believe that. You’re an operator.”

“You’re an operator too.”

“Exactly,” Laura said, and then smiled.

“Were you just jerking my chain?” “About having second doubts? Yes. You should have seen your face. But not about the manipulation part. I don’t like being manipulated. I was just getting even.”

Jack smiled. “Are we even?”

“Sure. Now how about we get some sleep.”

“Let’s have brunch first. It would be better if you relax a little before going home. I know this great little café. Excellent service as long as you don’t try to leave a tip.”

It was almost noon when Damien received a text message from Carlos. A cold phone is at your front house. I will talk at you in one hour!

Damien chuckled. Carlos’s attempt to use English slang sometimes sounded funny.

My front gate perhaps? Probably means a delivery service will bring me a cool phone. Damien went to his communications room and checked the television monitor near the front gate. Vicki’s Hummer was parked there, but she was not in the driver’s seat.

Maybe she’s picking a package up from the ground. I’ve warned her about packages! He zoomed the camera in on the Hummer. Where’s Katie?

He paused as he received a text message from Lance. Two bros from Q were murdered last night at the motel. Coming over.

Damien stared at the Hummer. It was still deserted. He ran from the house.

chapter twenty-five

Connie Crane called her boss and briefed him on the double homicide. She spoke of Taggart and Secord’s involvement and said that Drug Section was canvassing their members for any leads.

Randy hesitated when he hung up. Any reason for calling the assistant commissioner on a Saturday had to be extremely serious. He soon knew he had made the right decision.

Isaac listened to the details with a keen interest and thanked Randy for updating him. Isaac then called Staff Sergeant Legg and ordered him to contact Elvis immediately.

Elvis took the call and listened carefully as Legg explained the situation.

“I don’t really know anything,” said Elvis. “She’s not home yet.”

“It’s after twelve. You haven’t heard from her?”

“She called about an hour ago. Said she was going to have a bite to eat with Jack and would be home after. That’s all I know.”

“What time did she start working last night?”

“We were asleep. I didn’t really check the time. It was late, after midnight for sure.”

“She didn’t mention why she was called out?”

“I asked her if it was undercover. I thought she said surveillance, but I’m not sure. I was half asleep. Do you want me to ask her?”

“A little gentle prodding might not hurt.”

“She should be home any minute. I’ll ask.”

“Be discreet! As I said before, we’ll just keep this between the two of us. The road to hell is slippery and steep. Let’s make sure Laura doesn’t reach that part.”

Damien stopped when he reached Vicki’s Hummer and looked around. Nobody was in sight. Something was wrong. Really wrong.

It was with a sense of dread that he opened the driver’s door and looked inside. He felt relieved to see that it was empty, except for a plastic bag on the driver’s seat. He peeked inside the bag and saw that it was just a cellphone, partially wrapped in a rag. The keys hung from the ignition. He parked the Hummer in the garage and brought the plastic bag inside to the kitchen table.

What the hell is going on? He took the cellphone out and set it on the table. He picked up the rag and saw a small blue jeweller’s box in the bottom of the bag. He was about to set the rag aside but something caught his eye. The fabric had pictures of Disney characters on it. They were panties that Vicki had bought for Katie during the Easter break. They had been slashed off with a knife.

Damien felt the bile from his stomach burn his throat. He abruptly grabbed the jeweller’s box and opened it. He saw Vicki’s wedding ring. It was still attached to her finger.

Elvis greeted Laura as she came through the door, then gave her a warm kiss and a hug that lasted longer than normal.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Just missing you,” he said. “That was a long shift. I didn’t think you were supposed to start working with Jack until Tuesday.”

“He needed a hand.”

“Something couldn’t wait?”

“A lot of action right now. Some bikers just got wasted in a motel.”

“Some?”

“Two guys. Both with Satans Wrath. Drug deal went sideways. Jack has a good source. He introduced me. Pretty heavy stuff.” Laura turned away and headed for the bedroom. “I’m going to shower and go to bed.”

“You’re not on Homicide. How come you were called?”

“We found out about that later. It was Jack’s source we were meeting. We knew a major deal was going down. Just didn’t know where until we heard Homicide radio it in.”

When Laura finished her shower, she was about to get into bed when she saw a penny on her pillow. She paused, then slipped on her housecoat and walked into the kitchen where Elvis sat in a chair staring at her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she replied.

“You’re avoiding looking at me. Can you talk about it?” he said, then saw the tears in her eyes. He rose quickly and wrapped his arms around her. “What is it? What the hell happened?”

Laura wiped her eyes with her fingertips and then said, “Everything is okay.”

“Bullshit,” said Elvis quietly. “I’m your husband. Talk to me.”

Laura sighed, then said, “Jack has a picture ... he just got me to do something.”

“To do what? What is it?”

“To meet someone.”

“This informant?”

“Not about that. The mother. This baby’s mother! The ... oh, the picture was of a little guy taking his first steps. His name is Charlie. He was shot last month when his dad was killed.”

“The one in the news?”

Laura nodded. “Now Charlie is paraplegic. His mom is a waitress. Her name is Holly. Now she’s trying to raise a four-year-old and Charlie by herself.”

“Why the hell did Jack introduce you to her?”

“He’s become friends with her. She’s really a nice lady. I’m glad I got to meet her.”

“So she showed you the picture?”

“Actually Jack did, the first time. She gave it to him a while ago. He keeps it tucked in his sun visor.”

“The first time?”

“When we were working. I looked at it again just as Jack dropped me off. My choice.” Then she started to cry and added, “What kind of human being could do something like that!”

Elvis pulled her close so that Laura’s head was on his chest. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “I just don’t know.”

They stood for a moment, hugging each other, then Laura said, “We’re going to get the fucking asshole! That’s for sure!”

Her words shocked Elvis and he stepped back. It had been about four years since he last heard her swear. Then she had said shit.

“One shift with Jack and you’re learning a new vocabulary?” he asked.

Laura blushed and said, “Sorry. I didn’t hear that from Jack. His methods of investigation are ... rather unorthodox, but he acts like a gentleman.” She smiled and added, “I came up with them sweet little cuss words all on my own.”

“Think maybe I should wash your mouth out with soap,” Elvis chided.

“Not now, I’m too tired,” she said, kissing him quickly before heading back to the bedroom.

“Hon!” yelled Elvis. “What did you mean when you said that Jack’s methods were unorthodox?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replied. “He just thinks outside the box. I’m looking forward to working with him. I suspect we’ll become — actually, we already are — good friends.”

Jack flopped on his bed and called Natasha, who was still out on the farm.

“Sorry, sweetie,” he said. “It was a long night. I don’t have the energy to drive all the way out there. I need sleep.”

“Hey, turkey! How did it go?” she asked. “Have you identified this British person yet?”

“No,” Jack admitted. “But we’re a lot closer.”

“We?”

“I called Laura. She came out to help.”

“Good! So you’re not on your own, then?”

“No. She’s my new partner.”

“Think she will ever be as good as Danny?”

“I trust her. She’s not afraid to get her hands dirty.”

Lance saw the pain in Damien’s eyes. It had been less than fifteen minutes since Damien found the package, but the driveway was already filling up with vehicles. A state of war had been declared, and every available soldier and resource was being alerted. Damien’s house would be packed with loyal followers within the hour.

Buck and Sarah were inside battling each other over a computer game. The children ignored the two strikers who stood warily at the doorway. They had been taught since birth not to ask questions about Dad’s work, especially inside the house.

Damien and his upper echelon met in hushed tones outside by his pool. The word had gone out to every source who might know something.

Pussy Paul was the first to break the news when he hung up his cell and said, “Our rat-narc came through. Both strikers dead. Nobody knows where The Toad is and the pigs are looking for him. They think he skipped out with the money.”

“How did the feds know about the money?” Damien snarled.

“That fuckin’ Jack Taggart is involved. He was working on The Toad. Has some whore as a rat. Had info about him doin’ the deal. Also says The Toad has something to do with some dark guy with a British accent. They figure if they find that guy, they might find The Toad.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Don’t know. Taggart, or I guess it was the whore, said that The Toad met with this dark guy about three weeks ago. Said The Toad was with him in a park and that they met Leitch.”

“Leitch? That doesn’t make sense! He doesn’t know The Toad ... at least as far as I know.”

“Isn’t that around when you got the info on the Indos?” asked Pussy Paul.

Damien paused, then said, “Yeah, I think so. Leitch handed it off to me ... in a park.”

“Kind of fits,” said Pussy Paul. “I wouldn’t believe anything Taggart says,” replied Damien.

“Who the fuck would? Can’t see him lyin’ to the other cops, though. This came through one of them. Someone they trust.”

“What whores was The Toad hanging out with?” asked Damien.

“None that I know of,” said Lance. “Him and the boys from Quebec kind of kept to themselves in that department.”

“I can’t believe this!” roared Damien. “What the hell is going on?”

“Maybe you’ll find out more when Carlos calls,” suggested Lance.

“Yeah, maybe ... but something stinks.”

An uneasy silence descended over the group as everyone’s eyes focused on the cellphone that Damien had placed on the patio table.

The sudden flurry of activity at Damien’s had not gone unnoticed by the Combined Forces Special Enforcement Unit. A hidden camera recording licence plates and the coming and going of vehicles relayed the information directly back to the CFSEU office. It didn’t take long before Cecil Hinds arrived with a surveillance team to watch.

A young woman slowly sauntered past Damien’s gate but continued to stroll for several more minutes before speaking into the transmitter hidden inside her sleeve.

“Go ahead, Nicole,” said Hinds. “What ya see?”

“Counted four moving around just inside the gate. Two had their hands inside their jackets. Pretty sure they’re packin’ heat. They’re paranoid. Really eyeballed me good and weren’t giving wolf whistles.”

“Heads up, people,” said Hinds. “In case any of you haven’t heard, two of these guys were found shot in a motel this morning. Looks like we might have a war. If you don’t have your vests on, put ’em on now!”

chapter twenty-six

Damien tried to force himself to be calm. Think! Don’t say anything to get them hurt any more than they already are. Keep your cool. He knew he was too terrified at the moment to express anger. That would come later.

The cell rang and vibrated on the patio table. Damien stared at it as it rang again. Sound calm ... don’t reveal what you think! On the third ring, he snatched it up.

“Damien, here.”

“Are you laughing now, Damien?” said Carlos, sounding facetious.

“I’m not laughing, Carlos. Why —”

“You think you can rob me? To spit in my face and be safe? No place in the world is safe for you!”

“I did not rob you! Why have you done this?”

“My men were robbed! You are the hombre responsible! It was your men!”

“I wasn’t even involved in —”

“Do not talk! You will listen!”

“Carlos, you don’t understand! I —”

“Your puta — that whore you call a wife — every time you speak at me now, she will lose something ... what you say ...”

Damien listened as Carlos spoke briefly in Spanish to someone in the background before continuing.

“She will lose something ... like her tit! Now you understand, gringo? Si or no?”

“Yes. Si!” replied Damien.

“Bueno! You listen. Now, business! I have decided to charge you only $7 million Canada and $3 Americano. That is what you owe me and I am honourable man. If you do not think your wife and girl are worth that, then shut up the phone now!”

Damien held the phone. The seconds that went by seemed like an eternity. Panic flooded his brain out of fear that there would be an accidental disconnection. Finally Carlos spoke again.

“On Monday, I will call. You will bring $3.5 million Canada to where I say. Any policia or any of your hombres go with you ... then we will find out how many parts your wife and girl can lose before she both dies. We also find out if your girl is old enough to enjoy a man. Do you understand me, Damien? You say now. Yes or no!”

“Yes.”

“On Wednesday, you will pay another $3.5 Canada. After, I tell you how you make last payment!”

The line went dead, but Damien hung onto the phone, too stunned to be bothered by the dial tone. Then he turned to his men. His voice was barely audible when he said, “Carlos didn’t get his money last night. Vicki ... Katie ... he will kill them if we don’t pay.”

“That fuckin’ bastard is dead!” yelled Rellik.

“He says we still owe him $3.5?” asked Lance. “How much time do we have?”

“He wants $7 million Canadian first, then a final payment of $3 mil U.S.”

“What!” roared Whiskey Jake. “We only owed him $3.5! And that’s if he didn’t already rip us off! Maybe he’s got The Toad on ice too!”

“If he had The Toad and the money, I can’t see why he would do this,” offered Damien, lamely. “He wants me to deliver $3.5 on Monday, then again on Wednesday. After that he’ll tell me when he wants the rest.”

“The extra money,” said Lance. “He’s charging us for the first boatload! The one the fucking DEA took down in San Diego!”

Damien’s brain was racing ahead to Monday. He pointed his finger at Whiskey Jake and Lance and said, “The dope from last night! Sell it fast!”

“We’ll never get the cash in time,” said Whiskey Jake.

“Give it away at cost!” said Damien. He clenched his teeth, causing the tendons in his neck to stand out. Then he said, “Just get the cash we need by Monday!”

Whiskey Jake’s voice showed his concern. “The load is worth over $20 million. Stall for a couple of weeks and we’ll have it all.”

Damien grabbed him by the front of the shirt with both hands and shook him like a dog with a rat and yelled, “There is no fucking stalling!” He then used one hand to grab Whiskey Jake by the crotch and yelled, “If Vicki loses any more parts, so will you! Understand?”

The look on Whiskey Jake’s face indicated he understood. Damien released his grip and his voice returned to a normal level but did not hide his deadly intention. “Get to work. Four strikers with Buck and Sarah at all times. I’m leaving.”

“Where are you —” Lance started to ask.

“None of your business,” replied Damien, as he ran into the house.

Jack was almost asleep when he received the phone call from Damien. Moments later, he rushed to the parking garage where his car was parked. There was no missing the urgency in Damien’s voice when he said he wanted to meet immediately. Hope he used a cool phone...

Lance entered Damien’s house in time to see that he had just finished making a call on the cellphone that Carlos had provided. He spotted the 9mm tucked in Damien’s belt — something his boss had not carried in years.

“I’m coming with you,” said Lance. “It’s not safe.”

Damien shook his head and said, “This is something I need to do alone. Start selling the fucking...” Damien stopped when he realized he was inside the house, then said, “You do what you were told to do!” He rushed toward the door to the garage but stopped and ran back to the kitchen. He grabbed a small picnic cooler from the fridge and then ran to the garage.

On a normal day, Damien might have spotted the surveillance team and taken appropriate action. Today was not normal. His mind was on his family as he drove.

Cecil Hinds watched as Damien parked his car in Stanley Park. Part of the surveillance team remained with the car while others followed Damien on foot.

“T-1 is carrying a small cooler,” reported Nicole. “Maybe meeting someone for a picnic.”

“Who is the big question,” replied Hinds. “Stay with him, but give him lots of room.”

Damien didn’t mince words when he sat beside Jack on a park bench, placing the cooler between them. “I need a favour. Now!” he said.

Jack was surprised. “I don’t owe you any favours! We’re even! A tonne of coke and a murder makes us more than even!”

“This isn’t about that!” said Damien, harshly. Then his voice softened and he said, “I mean I would like a favour from you. I’d owe you this time.”

Jack was caught off guard. Why would he come to me, even if two of his guys were murdered? Is he hoping I can locate The Toad? He eyed Damien and the cooler curiously. He’s more agitated than I expected. Thought he would be happy that the heat’s on The Toad. And the cooler ... what’s that all about? Jack cleared his throat, then said, “Last time we met you said you would never give me another favour. Remember?”

“I remember.”

“So why should I believe you would ever pay me back?”

“Because I’m telling you I will! I gave you one on credit! I’m just asking for the same!”

Jack nodded, then said, “You can do me a favour first. An easy one. Your lawyer friend, Leitch, deals with a guy who has a British accent. Looks Indo. I want him.”

“I don’t know who that is,” said Damien, his face reddening.

“He’s connected with your club!”

“If he is, I’ll find out! I just don’t know right now!”

“He knows The Toad. He met with The Toad and then with Leitch three weeks ago. They were all paranoid, so something was going on!” Jack studied Damien’s face closely as he spoke. What I’m telling him ... his face ... he already knows! Thought it would take another few days. Jack stared at Damien and then said, “The Toad works for you. Call him and ask.”

“We tried! Nobody knows where the fuck he is! That’s what I want you to do! Find him!”

“You want me to find The Toad? He had something to do with a couple of your strikers getting shot in a motel last night, didn’t he?”

“Are you going to help me or not? First tell me that! You help me find The Toad and I swear I’ll find out who this British guy is!”

Jack leaned back and briefly massaged the back of his neck. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll take you at your word, but tell me what’s going on.”

Damien handed Jack the cooler and said, “Open it!”

Jack placed the cooler on his lap and heard the sound of ice moving around inside. He opened it and looked in. A plastic bag containing a girl’s panties lay on top of the ice.

“Under them,” said Damien. “Look under them.” Jack dug deeper into the ice and found another plastic bag. It contained a human finger.

“What’s this?” said Jack.

The words spilled out of Damien. He told of the ransom and his fear that he didn’t have time to raise the first payment by Monday.

Jack felt stunned as he stared at the finger. I did this. I may as well have chopped it off myself.

“Your wife is a doctor, right?” said Damien, pointing at the finger. “Can —”

“I don’t know. I’ll call her,” replied Jack, quickly punching the numbers on his cell.

The surveillance team from CFSEU scrambled to get into position to see what was in the cooler.

“Anybody see what was in it?” asked Hinds into the radio.

“No, the lid blocked my view,” came the reply. “By the look on their faces it must be something important.”

“Damn it,” mumbled Hinds, reaching for his cell.

Jack spoke with Natasha and quickly told her about a kidnapping. He said the husband did not want any official police involvement or any record of the incident. He then told her where they were.

“I’m coming in. I can be there in an hour,” she said.

“I don’t want you around until after I find the Brit,” said Jack. “It’s not safe.”

“I’m done living my life in fear out here.”

“Natasha! Listen to me! It’s obvious he’ll murder you the first chance he gets!”

“We’ll talk about it later. Stay there, I’m on my way.”

Jack put his phone away and said, “She’ll be here within the hour.”

Damien stared at Jack for a moment, then asked, “So what was that all about? Why do you want this Brit? You think he wants to murder your wife?”

Jack told Damien about the Brit but changed the story to say that a source of his identified the Brit in the park with The Toad and Leitch.

“And this guy tried to make your partner’s wife decide which one of her kids was going to die, just because she made you dinner?”

Jack nodded. “Who the hell would do that? You must know him.”

“I don’t! Maybe he was hired by someone I do know, but I can’t think of who that would be.”

“You doing anything with the Indos?”

“Not me. And he met with The Toad ... it doesn’t make sense. The Toad would never get involved in something like that! He was at the election last year when we were deciding whether or not to waste you. He voted against the idea. Same as everyone else.”

“Maybe The Toad doesn’t know about it. Could the Brit be someone Leitch is using to pass on messages to The Toad?”

“But if they were all in the park together, why didn’t Leitch just deal with The Toad personally?”

“Maybe The Toad wanted to keep his liaison with Leitch secret. Maybe he didn’t want to risk someone seeing them together.”

“Possible, I guess.”

Jack decided to change the subject and asked, “Why $7 million in Canadian and then $3 in American?”

Damien shrugged and said, “Doesn’t really matter. If we can’t find The Toad and get the money back by Monday, Vicki and Katie are...” He stopped, unable to say what he was thinking.

“You’re telling me that you have all that coke and can’t come up with $3.5?”

“In a week, easy. But not in two days. Maybe half, I don’t know. But look what Carlos has done. You really think he’ll accept half?”

Jack glanced down at the cooler. It made him feel ill. He said, “I’m not so sure it’s even about the money. He runs one of the biggest cartels in Colombia. This is chump change to him. What he’s doing ... he’s a psychopath. This is entertainment for him.”

“I figure the same. That’s why I want you to find The Toad for me. You said you have a source close to him. I don’t care who that is. I just want the money before Monday!”

“The Toad likes a little female companionship,” said Jack. “I know someone. I’ll see what I can come up with.”

Damien nodded and said, “Thanks, I appreciate it.” He then took the cooler and placed it between his feet. For a while, both men were silent, absorbed in their own thoughts. The cooler eventually became a magnet for their eyes.

“They’re in this because of me,” said Damien, fighting back tears. “I thought the club was everything. How could I have been so fucking stupid?”

Jack didn’t respond. His own emotions were boiling to the surface as he stared at the cooler.

“After all these years of being in charge of the club, this happens ... and who do I turn to for help? A fuckin’ cop.” Damien paused, trying to regain control of his emotions before saying, “How could this have happened to me?”

“It didn’t,” said Jack. “It happened to Vicki and Katie.”

Both men returned to their own thoughts. Jack thought about Damien. I always saw him as a monster. Now he looks like any worried dad or husband would. Scared because the people he loves are being violated. Angry at himself because it was his lifestyle that put them there.

Jack then thought about his own actions. Charlie paralyzed ... his dad murdered. A war vet murdered because I made the price of speed go up. The O’Reillys. Now this! Consequences of my actions. What have I done?

“What have I done?” said Damien.

Jack looked at Damien in shock. Was I thinking out loud? He saw the tears in Damien’s eyes as Damien leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees while covering his face with his hands. His body started to shake.

“I think they’ve raped Katie,” he said, choking out the words. “She’s only eight years old.”

Jack had forgotten about the panties. He picked up the cooler and examined them. “These have been sliced off,” he said.

“I know. Oh, God, please ... what have they done to her? I know I don’t deserve a break ... but if you really exist, why would you...”

“She may not have been raped,” said Jack. “They were probably cut off because her ankles were bound together. He sent them to terrorize you.”

Damien sat upright and looked at Jack. “You really think so?”

“Cop’s point of view.” Jack shrugged.

“You’ve dealt with this kind of thing before?” asked Damien.

“Not really. I’ve been thinking a lot about the psychopathic mind, though. Especially since my partner’s family was attacked. Picture a mother tied to a chair for half an hour staring at a swimming pool that her baby had been tossed in.”

“Christ,” came Damien’s mumbled reply.

“We’re dealing with” — Jack paused to look at Damien — “real monsters. You help me catch mine and I’ll help you with yours.”

Damien nodded and said, “If The Toad met this British or Indo, you can bet he was involved in ripping off the cash. I’m not sure where Leitch fits in. He once offered to ... help me with my finances. I don’t entirely trust him, so I said no. Maybe The Toad is using his services.”

“How long has The Toad been dealing with him?” asked Jack.

“That’s just it! I didn’t know the two even knew each other.”

“But you will find out who the Brit is? Maybe through Leitch?”

“I’ll deliver him to you like pâté on a plate!” Damien nodded toward the cooler and started to shake. “I just have to make sure they’re safe, first. That’s all that counts.”

Natasha hurried toward the park bench. She saw the tears in her husband’s eyes as he tried to console the large man sitting beside him. “Jack?” she asked hesitantly. Both men sat upright and then stood. Their faces became masks. Hiding any appearance of weakness. As a doctor, it was a sight that she had seen often, but it was not something she respected. Be who you are, not what you think others expect you to be.

“Natasha,” said Jack, “this is ... an associate of mine. He needs help. His wife and daughter have been kidnapped. They sent this back,” he added, gesturing toward the cooler.

“My name is Damien, Mrs. Taggart,” he said, handing her the cooler.

Natasha set the cooler on the park bench and looked inside. She examined the bag containing the finger quickly and then said, “Good, it’s not frozen. You did the right thing. Any amputated digit should be quickly cooled, but not frozen or placed directly in any solution. I’ll take it to my clinic. It should be wrapped in a saline-soaked swab, then sealed in a plastic bag and placed on ice.”

She glanced at Damien and saw the anguish on his face. “There have been recorded cases where digits have been successfully reattached up to twenty-four hours later if the amputated part was quickly cooled.”

Natasha knew by the looks on their faces that this did not appear likely. “Barring that, a prosthesis could be made from an impression cast of this finger, making an exact match...”

Damien stared down at his feet.

“I’ll get going now,” she said, then looked at Jack and asked, “See you at home after? It’s almost four o’clock. I’ll make dinner.”

“Wish you would reconsider. The Brit is —”

“And if you never catch him, do we spend the rest of our lives hiding? As I said, I’ll see you back at our apartment.”

Jack argued with Natasha a little more, but it was to no avail. Neither paid attention to Damien, who opened the cooler one more time.

Jack knew he had lost the argument and handed the cooler to Natasha. Both men watched as she returned to her car.

“She’s pretty headstrong,” said Damien, watching as Natasha placed the cooler in her car.

“Yes.”

“Why not stash her at your sister’s place out on that farm? At least until we get this Brit. Believe me, I’ll find out who he is.”

“She was at the farm. Now she wants to get back to work.”

“How come you don’t have cops protecting her?”

“She’s a doctor. She sees walk-in patients alone. If she was protected, that couldn’t be done. With our people, it would have to be all or nothing. Plus everyone in our office has been threatened. There’s no way everyone could be protected. If I complain about it, they just transfer us up to Baffin Island or someplace. We’d rather take our chances here.”

Damien paused, then nodded his head and said, “Okay. I see the problem. You guys play by the rules too much. I’ll have a couple of the boys watch over her. Once word goes out that she’s protected by the patch, nobody will try anything.”

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle at the prospect. “Hell no! All I need is for the brass to hear...” His thoughts were interrupted when he spotted a familiar car pull out into the traffic behind Natasha. He looked at Damien and said, “We’ve got heat.”

Jack noted that Damien held the urge to look. He was a professional. “You sure?” he asked, looking directly at Jack.

“I’m sure. Anti-Corruption. Someone must have spotted us together and called them. With Bishop’s body being found and now me meeting with you ... this isn’t good.”

Damien swore under his breath, then said, “I wasn’t thinking too clearly today when I drove to meet you. Bet it’s my fault.”

“Too late to worry about that now.”

Damien stared at Jack for a moment and then said, “Anti-Corruption?”

“Think of it as the heavies in Internal Affairs.”

Damien raised his eyebrows and said, “Bishop ... can they connect you?”

“Natasha talked to a Mexican cop just two blocks from where Bishop lived. I didn’t know until later. Now being seen here with you ... I’m going to be taken down!”

chapter twenty-seven

For Hinds, the minutes ticked by while urgent calls were exchanged between Isaac and the bosses at I-HIT, Anti-Corruption, and CFSEU.

Isaac then made a decision and called Staff Sergeant Legg back.

“This may be a long weekend here, but it’s not in Mexico!” said Isaac. “I want a response from Mexico no later than Tuesday. Tell the LO to do it in person! A dinky little village like that, Mexican time or not, it shouldn’t take long to find out. Tell the LO if I don’t have his report on my desk Tuesday morning, he’ll be protecting our sovereignty in the Arctic!”

“And in the meantime?” asked Legg.

“Tell CFSEU or whoever is watching Taggart they can do a loose surveillance today but then back off. I don’t want Taggart heated up until we hear back,” replied Isaac.

Surveillance teams split up into three groups. One watched Natasha carry the cooler into her clinic and then depart a short time later with the cooler and return to her apartment.

Damien, followed by a second team, went straight home.

Hinds elected to follow Jack and noted that when he returned to his car, he immediately used his cellphone.

Jack called the home number of his colleague who worked with the DEA in San Diego.

“Hello?” said a feminine voice.

“Sally! It’s Jack Taggart calling from Canada. Is Jim-Bo around?”

“Sorry, Jack. You got another ship for him?”

“No. Something else.”

“He’s out of the country. I expect him home Tuesday or Wednesday. Can it wait?”

“I suppose. I was just looking for some background info on someone. Have him call me when he gets in. He’s got my cell.”

Jack casually glanced in his mirrors before pulling out into traffic. He did not see anyone. Ten minutes of driving passed before his rear-view mirror reflected a car that had passed him earlier. These guys are pretty good...

The surveillance team followed Jack to the downtown core of Vancouver.

They soon found themselves driving along East Hastings, where Jack entered a parkade. Moments later, he was spotted entering the Black Water Hotel.

“Inside coverage,” ordered Hinds. “Who’s available that our target doesn’t know?”

Hinds found a volunteer and soon he had a whispered report from inside the bar.

“Target sitting by himself. Ordered a beer.”

A half-hour ticked by before Hinds received an update. “He’s just been joined by a woman. Looks like a hooker. He’s buying her a drink.”

“Are you close enough to hear?” asked Hinds.

“Negative. I’m getting enough heat as it is. Whatever they’re talking about, they don’t look happy.”

A short while later the volunteer reported, “Target getting up. Think he’s leaving. He tried to give the hooker a twenty. She shook her head and gave it back. Personally I think twenty was too much. She’s ugly. Okay, Target is heading for the front exit. I’ve lost the eye. He’s yours.”

Hinds saw Jack come out of the bar and the surveillance team was soon mobile again.

Jack arrived home at suppertime. His BlackBerry buzzed as he walked into their apartment. It was a message from Lance: Damien’s wife and daughter kidnapped by the Colombians over the rip. SW having a sale to raise money! No time to meet. Tomorrow?

Jack was too tired to respond to the message now and closed the door behind him.

Natasha immediately met him at the entrance, picking up the cooler off the kitchen counter as she passed it.

“This Damien is the monster you’ve been after?” asked Natasha. “The guy who has sanctioned what? Forty, fifty, sixty or more murders? Anyone from young prostitutes to suspected informants!”

“Yes, that’s him,” admitted Jack.

“Now you’re consoling him and had tears in your eyes! What’s that all about?”

“He’s a monster, but ... I found out there are bigger monsters.”

“Take a look in the cooler!”

“I did. I thought you were leaving that at the clinic. Didn’t you take the finger and —”

“I did leave the finger at the clinic. By the way, it smelled of coffee.”

“Coffee?”

“That’s not what I’m showing you. Take a look in the cooler!”

Jack looked inside. He saw a 9mm.

“Guess Damien figures you should protect yourself. Good idea.”

“Like hell it is! What is going on?”

Jack sighed and said, “I’m going to pour a martini. Then we’ll talk.”

Moments later, Jack and Natasha were sitting on their sofa and sipping on martinis as Jack told her everything leading up to her arrival at the park.

“So you’re upset because you feel responsible for them being kidnapped.”

“I am responsible. I feel horrible! Him trying to protect you makes me feel worse.”

“I can’t work with security hanging around. It will freak the patients out.”

“I know. Wish you would give it one more week at the farm.”

“Not an option. Can’t Damien tell you today who the Brit is?”

“That’s another problem. When I gave him the story about a connection between The Toad, the Brit, and his lawyer, I didn’t know his wife and daughter had been kidnapped. He might do a lot more than talk with Leitch.”

“Didn’t you think that to start with?”

“I expected Leitch might get slapped around a bit. Not now. This is different.”

“These are consequences you’ll have to live with. Damien too.”

“You’re comparing me with him? He’s the devil! Tell me you don’t think that?”

“I wasn’t saying that. Sounds to me like you were thinking that on your own.”

“Oh,” was all Jack said.

“But if he is pure evil, why were you so upset in the park?”

“I feel bad about his wife and daughter.”

“You had your arm around his shoulder. You feel bad for him too.”

Jack was exasperated. “I’m just not thinking clear,” he snapped. “This is Saturday night. I haven’t been to bed since Thursday. I’m just —”

“You’re just ... compassionate. You care about people. Don’t blame that on being tired.”

Jack looked at her for a moment, then sighed and said, “There’s more. Anti-Corruption were at the park. The Homicide Team too. They followed you and me after.”

Natasha was shocked. “Mexico? They know?” she whispered.

Jack grimaced and said, “It doesn’t look good. Me meeting with Damien ... they may have figured it out.”

Natasha grabbed Jack’s arm and said, “I won’t let that happen to you. I’ll say I —”

“You won’t say anything! Trust me! Tomorrow I’m going to start fixing things. This time without being watched.”

Sunday morning was quiet. There was little traffic when Jack pulled out onto the street. It didn’t take long to establish that he was alone. His meeting with Lance was brief.

“The club can only raise $1.5 million at the most,” Lance said. “We’re still $2 million short. Damien is screaming at everyone. Shit has really hit the fan.”

“Any sign of The Toad?” Jack asked.

“No, but Damien thinks Leitch might know where he is. He called him on his cell to meet him. Leitch is away until Tuesday. On some houseboat up in the Shuswap.”

“Damien going to wait until Tuesday?”

“Nope. He’s sending Rellik and his crew up there this afternoon.”

Damien received Jack’s urgent text message just before noon. He ensured he was alone before going to meet Jack outside the bus depot.

Jack came directly to the point. “My source saw The Toad take two sports bags into this place last night. He came out without them. Said he had to give them to a friend who was going on a trip.”

“Sounds like bullshit,” growled Damien.

“It is. My source rented a hotel room later with The Toad, just for an hour. She got a chance to look in his pocket. Found two locker keys and told me the numbers. I think I know where the money is!”

Damien was elated. “Thank you, thank you,” he kept repeating.

“The Toad said he wouldn’t see her for a week or two because he had to go out of town. Looks like she’s out of the loop. At least for now.”

“The fucker is leaving,” said Damien. “She’ll never see him again!”

“That’s what I figure. Once he comes back here for the money, I’ll bust him.”

“What!” Damien yelled. “You can’t do that! I need the money!”

“I know. I was going to give it to you. I just need The Toad to get the keys.”

“Fuck the keys! My guys can handle it. I’ll have someone check to make sure it’s there. Then I’ll have some guys wait and grab him when he shows.”

“Then you’ll politely ask him who the Brit is?”

Damien allowed himself a quick smile and then replied, “Yeah ... of course. But right now the important thing is my family. I need to make sure the money is there.” Damien then paused and said, “It’s been at least twenty-four hours since...” He held up his hand and wiggled his ring finger. “Guess you can tell Natasha to throw it out.”

Jack patted Damien on the shoulder and then replied, “She said that it could be used to make an impression. An exact match.”

“Yeah, right. Exact. You really believe that?”

“My wife doesn’t bullshit.”

Damien stared at Jack for a moment and then simply replied, “Good.”

“Which reminds me,” said Jack. “Open the glovebox. She really appreciated the 9mm but said to give it back.”

Damien retrieved the gun and said, “You sure?”

“Positive. I gave her a little .32 Beretta a few months ago. After that thing with Bishop last year.”

“I should have known. Makes sense. Smaller and easier for a woman to shoot.”

“Also registered to her. The problem is she usually refuses to carry it.”

“At least you had the foresight to try and protect her. Maybe if Vicki had one, she would still have her finger.”

“Or be dead.”

Damien slowly nodded. “Guess that’s a good possibility too.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, then said, “Okay. I agree with what you intend to do. Just two things. First, send me a message to confirm that the money is there. Second, I want you to meet me tomorrow after you do the drop. Agreed?”

“Not a problem,” replied Damien. “If we grab The Toad I’ll tell you who the Brit is immediately.” He pointed his finger at Jack and said, “Don’t try and follow me when I make the drop! I’m going to do whatever Carlos asks, and that includes going alone!”

Jack was on his way home when Lance sent him a message. Rellik’s crew on their way to the bus depot. Got a tip on The Toad.

Jack smiled. Two hours later he received another message. This time from Damien. Got the $. Thanks again. TTYL.

The LO was finally able to rouse his Mexican contact, who complained about being called on a Sunday. Promises of another lavish dinner and expensive hotel room with his mistress seemed to appease him. He didn’t understand the urgency. Then again, he had never seen snow.

Early Monday morning, the LO heard back. They were in luck. A report identified a policeman who is certain he saw Jack and Natasha on the day Bishop died. Yes, arrangements had been made. They could leave immediately and the LO could talk to the policeman in person and show him the photos.

chapter twenty-eight

Normally at eight in the morning on the Monday of a long weekend, Jack would be enjoying the comforts of his bed. Not today. He had already been up with Natasha for an hour and a half. Neither one spoke much as they went through the motions of drinking coffee.

Expecting to be arrested any moment tended to numb the brain as well as the taste buds.

Jack received a message from Damien. He was surprised that the call came so early but was glad to be doing something. Anything was better than waiting.

Damien met him in a parking lot at Burnaby Lake and they took a stroll along a path.

“Any heat?” asked Jack.

Damien shook his head and said, “None that I could see. Fucking Carlos called at four o’clock this morning.”

“Time zones,” said Jack. “They’re a couple of hours ahead of us.”

“I made the drop two hours later.”

“How and where?”

“I put the money in my trunk and drove to the industrial area near the harbour at the end of Clark Drive. I left my car unlocked and went for a walk as instructed. Came back an hour later and the trunk was empty.”

“Really wish I had been there,” said Jack. “Forget it! Nobody does anything until they’re safe!” “I know. I understand. I take it that The Toad still hasn’t shown up at the bus depot?” asked Jack, pretending to look suspiciously at Damien.

“No. Our guys are still there, but I don’t think it looks good.”

“Why not?”

“If he ripped us, I can’t see him hanging around. Leaving the money this long ... I got a feeling that he may have spotted us. I’ll keep the guys there for a while longer, but something doesn’t smell right.”

“Well, at least you got the money.”

“Not all of it. There was only $2.5 in the locker. One mil was missing.”

“I didn’t think that it might not all be there,” said Jack. “You obviously had enough, though?”

“Yeah ... just barely. Which leads me to think that The Toad had an accomplice. The extra million could have gone to the guy you call the Brit, or maybe Leitch, too.”

“Sounds logical. Looks like we both want to find him. Have you talked with Leitch?”

“He’s out of town until tonight. That can wait. I want to find my family first.”

“Was there anything else in the shipping container with the coke?”

“No. That was all we were getting.”

“I mean legit.”

“Legit? Yeah, there were sacks of coffee. Why?”

Jack thought of the van he had been in outside of the motel. It reeked of coffee. Natasha said Vicki’s finger also smelled of coffee.

“What are you thinking?” asked Damien.

“I don’t know, just trying to find something that might add up. How about Wednesday? Figure you can come up with another $3.5?”

“Someone says they got the cash to invest in a bargain. Looks like Wednesday won’t be a problem. The market is going to be flooded for a while ... bargain basement prices. Maybe a good thing. Put more of the competition out of business.”

Jack and Damien returned to the parking lot and stood for a moment, scanning the area.

“No heat,” said Damien.

“That we can see,” replied Jack.

“When do you think it will happen?”

Jack let out a deep breath and then said, “Let’s just say I’m not looking forward to tomorrow.”

“Can they make you for it?”

“I don’t know. Things could get pretty hot.”

Damien nodded, then asked, “You ever been to Merida, Mexico?”

“No. Why?”

“There’s a hotel there called the Angeles de Merida. Suggest you check it out on the web today. Don’t use your own computer. Do it at library or internet café. I gotta go. Talk with you later.”

It was just before noon when Jack called Laura’s number. Elvis answered.

“Hi, Elvis. It’s Jack. How are things?”

“What do you want?” Elvis obviously wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

“Is Laura there?”

Elvis paused and then replied, “I’ll get her.”

Jack thought about the sudden change in Elvis’s attitude toward him. Guess I would be upset too, if my spouse was working with someone about to be arrested.

“Hi, Jack! What’s up?”

Laura was friendly. Means Elvis hasn’t told her. “We need to talk. How about we meet and I buy you lunch?”

“Not with —”

“No, not with Holly. Just the two us. Stuff happening that you need to know about.”

“Where and when?” asked Laura.

“Know the Gillnetter Pub on the Mary Hill Bypass?”

“Good spot. One hour?”

Jack brought Laura up to date on the kidnapping and told her how he had returned all but $1 million to Damien.

“That’s awful.” She thought for a moment and then added, “You must feel awful.”

“I do.”

“Have you notified I-HIT yet?”

“Can’t. Damien would never cooperate. All he wants is to get his family back. No cops involved.”

“You trust him to tell you who the Brit is when he finds out?”

“He’ll tell me. It won’t be long. He’s already paid the first instalment on the ransom. Second instalment will be made on Wednesday.”

“Will he be short of cash then too?”

“No. The coke is practically being given away to raise the money in time.”

Laura nodded.

“You on board with this? With what I just did?”

Laura nodded.

“Good. I appreciate your view. Thanks.”

“After the other night, this seems like small potatoes. I was afraid you were going to tell me to buy rubber boots and a pickaxe.”

“At the moment I agree with Damien. What’s important now is to get his family back. I think we can help. I have a theory.”

“To find them ... if they’re still alive?”

Jack grimaced and then nodded.

“If they’re dead, it would explain why Carlos won’t let Damien talk,” said Laura. “So he can’t verify if they’re still alive.”

“I considered that, but I think they’re alive. He’ll want Vicki and Katie alive so he can use them to make Damien come crawling to him — literally.”

“For a guy like that, I would be willing to do the digging. What’s your theory?”

“The Colombians wanted the money in Canadian funds. I think they’re already established here. Likely in the coffee industry.”

Laura reflected on it briefly and then said, “Would look legit. Good for laundering. Who is going to count cups of coffee, let alone figure out how many sacks of coffee are sold versus the money collected. Even sending the money back to Colombia would look legit!”

“Natasha said Vicki’s finger smelled of coffee. I’m thinking she could be stashed in a warehouse where the coffee is stored.”

“We should check Customs and see who is picking up the shipments.”

“Exactly. I also want you to check out a company registered to the plate I scooped off the van at the motel. It smelled of coffee too. We might get lucky and find a match.”

“Today is a holiday so...”

“I know. I don’t think you’ll find much out before tomorrow, but get on it as soon as you can.”

Laura took a sip of Rickard’s Red and then a bite of calamari. “I bet you’re right about the coffee connection. It all ties in. Find the warehouse and we find his wife and daughter.”

Jack nodded.

“But then what? We can’t raid the place ourselves. We’ll need to call out the troops.”

“I know. We’ll do it anonymously. It might even be in VPD’s jurisdiction. I’ll talk to Damien about it then. All he wants is his family back. Our Emergency Response Teams are better trained than anyone he has.” Jack took a bite of a chicken wing and then added, “They haven’t killed as many, but they’re better trained.”

“Then we’re set.”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Laura put her fork down. “What else? You’re holding something back!”

Jack looked at her and said, “I know I’ve dumped a lot of crap on you in a hurry.”

“No kidding! Officially I don’t even start until tomorrow.”

“And I want to thank you for being the person you are. There are only a few people I trust in this world. I trust you.”

Laura nodded and said, “Thanks. Now quit avoiding the subject. What else should I know?”

Jack sighed and said, “Tomorrow things could go bad for me. Something unrelated to this.”

“Bad? In what way?”

“I’m under investigation. On Saturday, when I met Damien in the park and Natasha showed up ... I spotted ACU following Natasha when she left with the cooler.”

“They’re working on you?”

“I recognized the car ... didn’t see who was driving. When I left, others followed me. I’m sure I-HIT is involved as well.”

Laura became silent as she thought about her marriage.

“I don’t want you to panic,” said Jack. “Don’t worry about the shoot, shovel, and shut up incident. If worse comes to worse, I will always deny you were with me. If I get grabbed, I want to make sure that you follow through on this stuff. Do what you can to save Damien’s family.”

“Why, Jack? Why would they be working on you?” Jack returned her stare for a moment, then said, “They think I had something to do with Bishop’s death. The day I was told about it, someone followed me out to my sister’s place to see if I would tell her.”

“Wondering if she already knew?”

“Exactly.”

Laura looked at Jack but didn’t speak. She didn’t want to make him lie to her, or worse yet, hear something that she could be asked to divulge.

“Once Damien’s family is safe, I know he’ll identify the Brit,” said Jack.

“Sounds to me,” said Laura quietly, “that you have bigger problems to worry about than the Brit.”

“Other people have problems too. Charlie’s going through life in a wheelchair because his dad and I had the same name.”

“Not your fault.”

“Perhaps. Then there’s Danny and Susan. They’re so traumatized I don’t think they’ll ever get over it. I don’t blame them that they hate my guts.”

“They need time.”

“Something I may not have. This thing with Vicki and Katie ... I don’t have a bigger problem than them. Someone has to save them. I’m counting on you.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Don’t come in to the office tomorrow morning or answer any calls except from me. Go straight to the port and start looking at shipping invoices. If I get grabbed, I don’t want them grabbing you too. Vicki and Katie can’t afford any delays.”

“Sure, fine,” said Laura harshly.

“What’s wrong?”

Laura leaned back in her chair and said, “Men! What is it with you guys? I was hoping you were different!”

“How? What do you mean? We don’t have time to sit around the office. I’ll deal with it while you investigate.”

“Not that. What you did in the last two days without me! Partners should work together. I want to catch the Brit, too. Hope he resists ... that would make it easy. But the point is, you went off and did all this stuff on your own while keeping me in the dark. If you don’t want me as a partner, then keep doing what you’re doing!”

“It’s not that! It’s Elvis. I don’t want to jeopardize your marriage! How do you think he feels right now? Even if he wasn’t following me on Saturday, he —”

“He wasn’t. He was home with me.”

“Even so, ACU is a small office. He must know what’s going on.”

“I’m sure he does.” Laura studied Jack’s face closely and added, “I’m not going to interfere with his job.”

“Exactly. So now you know why I hesitate to put you in the middle.”

“Asking me to do my job is not putting me in the middle. I do what I think is right — just like Elvis does.”

“Would he think hiding The Toad’s body is right?”

“Of course not, but that is not your concern. Let me deal with that. I’m still not sure if that was right either, but I did see your point. If you arrested anyone, you would have burned Lance and that much cash would never remain a secret.”

“Please, never use his name.”

“Sorry ... your friend. Speaking of which, I hope he’s not a good friend of yours.”

Jack smiled and then replied, “He’s disposed of a few bodies, but I didn’t help.”

“What’s his motive? Staying out of jail?”

“He tried to murder me once ... thought I was a dope dealer ratting out to the cops.”

“And you let him off the hook for that?”

Jack nodded. “It was worth it. Now he’s president of the west-side chapter.”

“Meaning you ... we ... have to dance around a lot of grey areas with him. At least we do if we want to know what is going on.”

“Exactly.”

“Little things, like hiding corpses and that.”

Jack smiled. “Sounds like you’re a natural for this work.”

Laura massaged her forehead with her hand and then looked across the room at the waitress and yelled, “Leisa! Another round, please!”

It was late Monday night in Mexico when the RCMP liaison officer met with the police officer and showed him pictures of Jack and Natasha. Yes, he was positive it was them. There was absolutely no doubt.

Communications in Third World countries are not up to the standards of other places on the planet, but the LO’s report would still arrive on Isaac’s desk before noon tomorrow.

chapter twenty-nine

Early Tuesday morning, Jack embraced Natasha warmly before reluctantly pulling away.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “Everything will be okay.”

Natasha used the cuff of her sleeve to wipe away her tears. “I’m scared,” she said.

“I’ll call you as soon as I know anything. If you’re questioned, remember what happened.”

“But details,” she said, “what if I’m asked about little things?”

Jack faked a smile and said, “That’s where the tequila comes in. How can they expect you to remember anything about our honeymoon? Other than that I was the best lay you ever had!”

Natasha smiled in spite of her fears. “You’re such a turkey!”

Jack arrived at work and listened to his voice mail. Louie had a doctor’s appointment and would not be in until later. He had barely put the phone down when he was approached by Staff Sergeant Legg from the Anti-Corruption Unit.

“Come with me,” said Legg.

“Why?” asked Jack. “I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

“My instructions come from Isaac. Forget having coffee!”

Jack was taken to an interrogation room consisting of a small table pressed against a wall and three chairs seated in a semicircle around the front of the table. Randy Otto was already in the room.

“Bosses from I-HIT and Anti-Corruption,” said Jack. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Take a seat,” said Randy.

Jack grabbed a chair and swung it around, then sat facing over the back of the chair. Randy and Legg exchanged glances, then sat down facing him.

“I take it you want me to assist you with something important?”

“Drop the act,” said Legg. “You know why you’re here!”

“Actually, I don’t,” replied Jack. “I did, however, spot one of your cars following my wife Saturday afternoon. Would you care to explain? Is she a Russian agent?”

“Jack, this isn’t a game,” said Randy. “It’s serious. Isaac has taken a personal interest. Do yourself a favour — drop the comedy act.”

“Sorry, Randy. Bad habit. I use humour to alleviate stress.”

“Have you been meeting Damien?” asked Legg.

“You know I have. He was with me in the park on Saturday when you followed Natasha.”

Legg looked frustrated and said, “Just for the record. I wanted you to say it.”

“Sorry. Yes is the answer.”

“Why?” continued Legg.

“It’s highly confidential.”

“Believe me,” said Randy, “Isaac has given us full authority to hear about anything you’re involved in.”

Jack nodded, looking pensive as he reflected upon this information. Then he answered, “I’m trying to turn him into an informant.”

“Yeah, right,” said Legg sarcastically. “Why was your wife meeting him?”

“She was picking something up from him. In the cooler he handed her.”

“Which was?” asked Legg.

“He had been to her clinic a few days ago. He was told to come back and give her some sort of specimen. When he mentioned that he knew me, Natasha told me about it. I didn’t like the idea of him meeting my wife alone. I made him hand the specimen over to her when I was around.”

“What kind of specimen?”

“You would have to ask my wife about that. She wouldn’t tell me. Doctor-client privilege was all she would say.”

“You were seen looking in the cooler,” said Legg.

Jack sighed, then said, “You’re right. I did.” He paused and said, “I know I’m in trouble.”

Legg hid his satisfaction. He’s folding already.

“Please don’t tell my wife,” continued Jack. “I was just curious. I think it was a stool sample, but I’m not sure. She’ll be mad as hell if she thinks I was snooping into her business.”

Randy let out a soft chuckle, bringing him a glare from Legg.

“I used the park as an excuse to talk to him while waiting for Natasha. It was a good opportunity to build trust and get him to confide in me.”

“Bullshit!” said Legg. “You don’t turn the top guy of Satans Wrath! That’s who you want to nail! You turn informants to catch him!”

Jack looked surprised, then said, “Oh! Is that how it’s supposed to work?” He pointed his finger at Legg and said, “Perhaps you would think that. Not coming from an intelligent background ... oops, Freudian slip ... I mean from an Intelligence background.” Jack paused when Randy frowned, then said, “Sorry. I do understand how you might think that.”

“I think that because it’s true!” said Legg, harshly.

“If it’s true, then why was I meeting with him?”

“You’re working for him!”

“Working for him?” said Jack, as his eyes widened. “I’m shocked that you would jump to that conclusion. Absolutely aghast! Mortified to think that you would accuse me of that! There is no way that —”

Legg pounded his fist on the table and said, “Think I haven’t seen this routine before? Act surprised, show concern, deny, deny, deny!”

Jack leaned back and slowly shook his head while staring down at the floor.

“Think about it, Jack,” said Randy, “do you really expect us to believe that you could get the national president of Satans Wrath to turn on his own club?”

“His own club? Damien would never do that!” said Jack.

“Precisely!” said Legg.

“It’s the Indos he’s concerned about,” said Jack. “I was suggesting to him that it’s in our mutual interest for the police to arrest them.”

“That’s enough,” said Legg. “I tried to be good to you. Give you a chance to come clean. A chance to use your head and make yourself look a little better. Maybe even show some remorse. Hell, who knows? A murder beef could even be dropped down to manslaughter if you played your cards right.”

“Murder? What on earth are you talking about?”

“We’ve got a surprise for you,” retorted Legg. “Mexico! You’ve been identified! The LO left us a message. His report should be arriving any minute.”

“I don’t understand,” said Jack.

“Don’t you think we figured out that Damien told you where Bishop was hiding?” said Legg. “You killed Bishop while you were on your honeymoon. Now Damien owns you!”

“You’re wrong! It was just a coincidence that I was in the country at all!”

Legg ignored Jack’s denial as he continued, “And you show up at the motel on Saturday morning with a bullshit story that an informant told you about The Toad and a huge dope deal!”

“Well, that part is true. I did go to the motel. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing with you is true! Who’s your informant? I need a name and an address now!” said Legg, sliding a writing pad across the table.

“I don’t disclose the names of my informants!”

“You will if you don’t want me to read you your rights and put you in jail now!”

Jack glared at Legg for a moment, then grabbed the notepad and scribbled a name and address before tossing the pad into Legg’s lap.

Legg looked at the name. “This is it? A first name and an apartment address? What’s the phone number?”

“Doesn’t have one.” Jack looked at both men and said, “Check it out. Take CC from Homicide. She’ll verify it.”

“Yeah? Well you can sit here until I do!” said Legg. He left Randy in the room with Jack and went to another room and called Connie Crane.

“Don’t know anything about it,” said Connie. “If Jack thinks I’ll lie for him, he’s mistaken!”

“Could it be an alias? Maybe somebody you used to deal with?” asked Legg.

“Possible, but I’ve never handled a source with Jack. I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Isaac wants this done now. Are you going to tell him you’re too busy?”

Seconds later, Connie hurried from her office to meet Legg.

Pussy Paul and Rellik arrived at Damien’s estate as ordered. It was raining and both men soon wished they had brought umbrellas. Damien was the only one who had one as they strolled along the manicured path that led past the koi pond in his backyard.

“What did you find out?” Damien asked Pussy Paul.

“He should be in court all day. Up until about four.”

“Good,” replied Damien. “Meet him at the courthouse as soon as he’s finished. Tell him we have a new source in the prosecutor’s office. Tell him we know that the cops have a tap on him ... including payphones.”

“The fucking pigs are buggin’ our lawyer?” said Rellik.

“No,” replied Damien. “I think Leitch is two-timing us. He might be doing something with The Toad.”

“The fucking Toad!” said Rellik. “I’ve still got guys at the bus depot.”

“Cancel them, except for two. I doubt he’ll show, but if he does ... make sure he’s taken care of.”

Rellik nodded.

“It’s possible that Leitch is using a go-between. Some dark guy with a British accent. Bait him,” said Damien, directing his order at Pussy Paul. “Tell him our rat at the prosecutor’s read something to indicate it involved a meeting he had with the guy in a park. Then leave.”

“Got it,” said Pussy Paul.

Damien pointed his finger at Rellik and said, “Have your team standing by. If he meets The Toad or anyone who fits the description of the other guy, grab ’em.”

Rellik made a motion with his hand, imitating firing a pistol.

“Not yet. I’ll want to talk to them personally. Someplace private,” said Damien.

“Wet Willy’s?” suggested Rellik.

Damien nodded and said, “That will do.”

“Should I bring a talking stick?”

Damien was silent for a moment. The thought of it churned his stomach ... but then an image of Vicki’s finger came to mind. He looked at Rellik and said, “Do what you have to do.”

Legg knocked on the apartment door while Connie Crane stood to one side, keeping an eye on a couple of junkies who entered a room farther down the corridor.

“You sure this is the right place?” asked Connie.

Legg rechecked the piece of paper from his pocket and said, “This is what Taggart wrote.”

A moment later, someone was heard moving around inside and Legg knocked again. Eventually the door opened as much as the chain lock would allow.

Connie caught a glimpse of the woman who stared back at them. She wore fishnet nylon stockings, small satin shorts that allowed the cheeks of her ass to hang out, and a tube top that advertised her nipples.

“Vice?” she croaked. “What the fuck do you want?”

Legg shook his head and said, “Not Vice. RCMP. Are you Ophelia?”

She nodded.

“We’ll make it brief,” continued Legg. “If you don’t want to come with us, then just talk to us now. Will take less than a minute. Do you know Jack Taggart?”

The hooker paused, then quickly closed the door.

Legg looked at Connie and was about to ask what they should do when he heard the chain being removed. Then Ophelia opened the door and glanced nervously down the hallway.

“Yeah, I know Jack,” she tried to whisper, but her voice was raspy and it still sounded loud. “But tell him I’m not working for him anymore. The jerk said he’d never tell anyone.”

It was a voice that Connie knew she recognized ... but from where?

“You know a guy called The Toad?” asked Legg.

“Yeah, I’ve been talking to Jack about him. Fuck! If someone found out, I’m dead!”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” said Legg. “We just want to ask you a few —”

“I know you,” interjected Connie.

The hooker glared at her and said, “No ya don’t.”

“I recognize your voice. Ophelia, we talked on the phone. It was me you spoke to about Spider.”

Isaac listened as Randy told him about Ophelia saying she was Jack’s informant.

“Taggart still in interrogation?” he asked.

Randy nodded and said, “Staff Legg just got back and is with him. I just came out to tell you about this hooker. It’s the same hooker who solved that homicide for us. With the war veteran.”

“So Taggart did have an informant,” mused Isaac. “Guess he doesn’t lie about everything.”

“I don’t think he has her anymore. She was pretty upset that he divulged her identity.”

“So be it,” said Isaac. “I feel bad about that, but this takes priority. Once we get the confirmation report from Mexico, I want you to —”

Isaac was interrupted by his secretary, who brought in the report and said, “You told me to bring this in immediately, sir.”

Isaac quickly read the report, then grimaced and said, “It seems the Mexican police would like to have Taggart return. I’m delivering this message in person. Bring him to me!”

Minutes later, Randy reappeared in Isaac’s office. Isaac glanced up as Jack Taggart entered, followed by Legg. Isaac immediately arose and came around from behind his desk and walked directly up to Jack.

Legg saw the angry look on Isaac’s face. That’s when it occurred to him that Taggart might be armed. He placed his hand on Taggart’s forearm while nodding to Randy to do likewise.

“Damn it, Harry! Let go of the man’s arm!” ordered Isaac.

Legg quickly pulled his hand back in surprise.

Isaac looked at Jack and said, “I owe you an apology and I believe apologies should be made in person.”

“Sir?” said Jack.

“I’m afraid I made some presumptions that turned out to be false,” said Isaac. “With your association with Damien, coupled with Bishop’s death in Mexico at the same time you were in the country ... well, it aroused my suspicions.”

“Sir, that was just a coincidence. That is what I have been trying to tell —”

Isaac raised his hands, gesturing for Jack to stop. “I know. I just received a report from our LO. The day Bishop died, you were on the opposite side of the country. A place called Merida.”

“Sir!” said Legg. “What proof is there of that? Even if he was booked in a hotel, it doesn’t mean that he didn’t —”

“Don’t interrupt!” said Isaac. He then looked back at Jack and continued, “There’s more to it than that. Something that makes me even more ashamed of my actions.”

“Sir?” asked Jack.

“An incident near the hotel you were staying in. It took place the same morning Bishop died...”

“The Angeles de Merida?” asked Jack.

Isaac glanced at the report in his hand and said, “Yes.” He then looked at Randy and Legg and said, “That morning, five thugs jumped a policeman in an alley. They credit Taggart with coming to his rescue and saving his life.”

“Oh, that,” said Jack. “It was really nothing. I barely remember the incident.”

“Well, they do! They have a report on it. They wanted to honour you with an award, but you left before they could get their act together. They said they tried to locate you but weren’t able to. Speaking of which, you don’t use credit cards much when you travel, do you?”

“I find I can negotiate better rates at some places using cash. Especially in Mexico.”

Isaac nodded. “Well, they would like to see you get recognition for it. Later, at a more appropriate time, I’ll be presenting you with a letter of commendation.”

“Thank you, sir. I really appreciate that, but now I am kind of busy. May I get back to work?”

“You certainly may.”

Isaac waited until Taggart left his office before turning his attention to Randy and Legg.

“Do you think he was sincere?” asked Isaac.

“Sir?” responded Legg.

“Taggart ... do you think he was sincere?”

“I certainly think so,” replied Legg. “This is rather embarrassing. I’m afraid I may have been a little overzealous in my questioning.”

“There is an addendum on the report from the LO,” said Isaac. “Take a look.”

Both Randy and Legg leaned over Isaac’s desk and read: “The policeman who claims to have been rescued by Jack Taggart arrived at the meeting on a new Yamaha motorcycle. Unusual, considering the low salary of policemen in the area. This may be coincidental, but it should be noted that Satans Wrath has a history of influence with the Mexican authorities. Undoubtedly, this is the very reason that Sidney Bishop fled to this country.”

“If Taggart is innocent,” said Isaac, “I do not wish to be embarrassed any further ... so be careful.”

“Sir?” asked Legg.

“Don’t close the file on him yet,” said Isaac.

It was late afternoon when Pussy Paul met with Leitch and passed on the information that he was the subject of a police wiretap. Leitch’s concern was immediately evident on his face. Pussy Paul was barely out of sight when Leitch used his BlackBerry to send Ray a text message to arrange a meeting.

It was the last message Leitch would ever send.

chapter thirty

Laura drove into the office parking lot and picked up Jack, who stood waiting for her.

“How did it go?” she asked. “You didn’t call me this morning, so I figured...” Her voice trailed off as she waited for a reply.

“You figured right,” replied Jack. “Everything has been cleared up. They discovered I was on the opposite side of Mexico when Bishop died.”

“Really?” said Laura, looking surprised.

“What have you got?” said Jack, changing the subject. “On the phone, you said you had a good lead.”

Laura nodded and passed Jack her notebook as she drove. “It took awhile, but between Customs and company checks, I finally hit pay dirt. Take a look at the last entries. You were right about the van. It is registered to the same company that picks up shipments of coffee from the dock. I’ve found seven different addresses associated with them.”

“Perfect!” said Jack, while scanning the addresses that Laura had written in her notebook. “Let’s go! Find that van and I bet we find Vicki and Katie!”

Leitch sat on the park bench and warily watched the faces of various people as they passed him. He didn’t think any looked like police officers. He was right.

Leitch stood when Ray arrived, and the men walked while Leitch divulged what he knew about the police wiretap.

“Does it really matter, ol’ chap?” asked Ray. “We have never spoken of any illegalities on the phone. Why are you so worried?”

“I didn’t think you wanted anyone to know that you were here. Obviously the police are aware of your presence!”

Ray smiled, then patted Leitch on his back and said, “You gringos ... you really do worry too much. They were bound to find out sooner or later. We will buy them. Do not worry.”

“It is not as easy in this country,” said Leitch. “Some can be bought, but it is much more difficult. Bribery ... killing those in the judiciary ... it is not the same as in your country.”

“Still, they must be reasonable,” said Ray. “My brother has an expression. Silver or lead. Reasonable men will take the silver. If not, they will die. Either way, it is not a problem.”

Leitch felt less anxious as he walked with Ray back to the parking lot — until he discovered he had been duped.

Jack peered through the window of the premises. It was a small unit in the middle of a commercial mall where the businesses appeared to be wholesale outlets. The door was locked and there was nobody around. It was a few minutes past six o’clock and the other businesses were also closed for the day.

“This place is like the last,” said Laura. “What’s inside? Half a dozen chairs and a coffee machine? From the outside, you wouldn’t even know this was a coffee shop.”

“It’s not,” said Jack. “It’s a laundromat. Got any dirty fifties on you?”

“Not on my salary. No back rooms?”

“They wouldn’t be here,” replied Jack.

“Four down, two to go,” said Laura. “Want to grab a burger first?”

Jack shook his head.

Damien lay down on the back seat while Lance and Whiskey Jake sat up front and drove through Damien’s gate. Several minutes passed before Lance indicated that they were not being followed. Neither Lance nor Whiskey Jake had been informed about what they were doing. Damien’s instructions were brief and Lance drove as directed.

Rush hour traffic was over by the time they arrived at Wet Willy’s. The automatic car wash was closed and looked to be deserted, but Lance knew otherwise. He spotted a striker sitting low in the seat of a parked car at the front of the business. Two more of Rellik’s men sat in a truck at the back. Security remained where they were while the three bosses were ushered in a rear door.

The lights were on inside, but tarps hung from both doors, giving the appearance that the business was in darkness.

Rellik nodded to them as they entered and gestured to the two men who were tied spread-eagled and face-down between the inside rails of the car wash. Both men were naked except for the band of duct tape wrapped around their mouths.

“This how you wanted ’em?” asked Rellik.

Damien nodded.

Both men turned their heads and stared up at them. Lance recognized Leitch. His face was thin and pointed, making his wide eyes look almost comical. His hands were tied close to the soles of the feet of the man in front of him. Lance didn’t recognize this man, whose dark eyes stared up at him.

“Leitch dancing with the Indos?” asked Whiskey Jake.

Damien shook his head, then looked at Rellik and said, “Show them.”

“Found this in his Mercedes,” said Rellik, while handing Lance and Whiskey Jake a Colombian passport. The meaning became startlingly clear.

“This ... Ramon. He’s Carlos’s brother!” said Lance.

Damien nodded. “They call him Ray.”

“Dealing with The Toad,” said Whiskey Jake.

“Probably,” said Damien. “We do know he was dealing with Leisure Suit Larry here!”

Leitch mumbled something inaudible while pleading with his eyes.

Damien turned his attention back to Rellik and said, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but right now all I want is my wife and daughter back. They do any talking?”

Rellik prodded Leitch in the ass with the toe of his boot and said, “Larry says that Ray is just a client. Says he didn’t know that he had anything to do with us.”

“Liar!” screamed Damien, stepping between the rails and kicking Leitch hard in the groin.

Leitch’s body arched and bucked against his restraints. Despite his gag, his scream and whimpering echoed through the room.

Damien savagely kicked Leitch again and saw Ray looking back over his shoulder. Leitch’s body became a quivering mass after the third kick.

Damien continued to stare into Ray’s eyes, then walked up and ripped the tape from his mouth.

“Where are they?” Damien asked. “My wife and daughter — what have you done with them?”

Most men would have told, but Ray was no stranger to torture ... only he had always been the one to inflict the pain. He knew his life would be worthless once he talked.

“I — I don’t know,” he said. “I had nothing to do with it.”

Damien looked at Rellik and said, “Get on with it!”

Rellik grinned down at the two victims and said, “Gentlemen, let me introduce you to the talking stick!”

Ray gasped when he saw Rellik pick up a length of broken broom handle with a spiral of barbed wire wrapped around the end. He held the stick close to Ray’s face and slowly examined it.

“Please ... no ... sir,” pleaded Ray. The reason for his nakedness and face-down position had become evident to him.

Rellik stepped between Ray’s legs and slowly twisted the end of the stick between his buttocks. The barbs drew thin red lines of blood.

“Please, no!” screamed Ray. “You must believe me! My brother is the boss. He controls everything. Everything! It was his men ... I don’t know where they took your family. Please, call him. He will pay big money for me. Big money...”

Damien held up his hand, gesturing for Rellik to stop, then held out the cellphone that Carlos had supplied him earlier. “His number,” said Damien. “Give me his number and I will hold the phone so you can talk to him!”

Jack scanned the warehouses in the industrial area that Laura was driving through. It would be dusk in another hour, but there were still a few trucks moving about.

“This looks good,” said Laura. “Independent warehouses. Trucks and vans coming and going.”

Jack saw the address they were looking for. He also noticed something else. “Keep driving! Don’t slow down or look!”

“Someone eyeballing us?” asked Laura, as she drove right past.

“There’s a guy sitting in that pickup out front.”

Laura caught sight of the truck in her rear-view mirror. It was backed into a parking stall. “People getting off work. Maybe waiting for someone,” she offered.

“Or standing six,” said Jack.

“Did you get a plate?”

“No front plate. Find a place to park where we can watch. This could be it.”

Laura parked where they could watch the warehouse through binoculars. The pickup truck remained out front.

Jack received a call on his cell and handed the binoculars to Laura.

“Hey, Johnny Canuck! How you all doin’ up there?”

“Jim-Bo! How are you? Heard you were out of the country.”

“Just got in. Tried to do a sting on the head honcho of a Colombian cartel. Didn’t go well.”

“Carlos?”

“No. The Diego Ramirez cartel. He’s in close competition with Carlos, though. They were at war with each other up until a couple of months ago. Looks like they settled on a truce for now. Ramirez operates out of Cali, while Carlos operates out of another city just north of Cali called Buga.”

“Were you successful in nailing Ramirez?”

“Naw. We tried to set up a sting on him. He has a weakness for redheads. Got a CI close to him and tried to sucker him out of the country so we could grab him. Didn’t work. Ramirez is smart. Cultured too. Speaks perfect English and generally pretends to be a gentleman. When it comes to cocaine distribution, Ramirez is about even with Carlos. He’s a major player. We’ve been after him for years. Same as Carlos. Both top drug lords we’d like to put behind bars.”

“What can you tell me about Carlos?”

“He’s the opposite of Ramirez. Relies on terror to stay where he is. Not that Ramirez is averse to torture and murder, but he generally tends to be more subtle and will give someone time to reflect upon how much money could be made. Carlos’s organization is more inclined to offer a smaller bribe while they stick a gun in the person’s face and pull the trigger if they refuse. That’s if Carlos is feeling nice. Otherwise he tortures them to death.”

“Nice guy.”

“Yeah. Real nice. Sally said you all called. Was it about Carlos?”

“Yes. I want to know everything about him. Particularly in regard to kidnappings.”

“I can tell you that you don’t want to be on the receiving end. His organization has snatched lots of people. Usually they’re found mutilated. The guy is a real psycho. He’s got lots of enemies. Never leaves Colombia and always travels with at least thirty bodyguards. Well connected, too. The asshole always wears a green beret. I think he does it to relate to the militant factions down there that he hires to protect his labs. We’ve tried for years to get evidence to extradite both him and Ramirez. So far, no luck.”

“A fellow up here owes Carlos money. His wife and daughter were grabbed for ransom.”

“Yeah? Well tell the guy he probably won’t be seeing them again ... at least not alive.”

“Appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone about this call. The guy confided in me but doesn’t want the police involved.”

“I hear ya.”

“Speaking of which, someone tried to kill me and murdered the wrong guy by mistake. Then almost murdered my partner’s — I mean my ex-partner’s — baby.”

“Jesus Christ! You all right?”

“I’m still above ground. You never mentioned my name to anyone over that ship I gave you, did you?”

“Not a soul. In the warrant I just listed you as a reliable CI. Haven’t told anyone, including my people.”

“Didn’t think so. The guy I’m after is dark-skinned but has a British accent. I figure he’s Indo.”

“British accent?”

“Yes.”

“Carlos has a brother by the name of Ray. Ramon in Spanish. I thought he was in Britain. He got his masters at Cambridge in business administration. We figured he was going to return to Colombia and help Carlos launder money.”

Jack stared at his phone for a moment, then yelled, “That’s it! Carlos knows! It is retaliation for what I told you!”

“Jack ... I’m sorry. If it is Carlos, I still don’t know how he could have found out about you.”

“It has to be! You said he’s a psychopath! Ray is here! I know it! He’s doing his brother’s bidding!”

Carlos listened to Ray gasp and choke out the words, describing where he was and what had happened. Damien heard the outrage as Carlos screamed into the phone.

Damien then spoke into the phone and said, “So, Carlos! If you want to see your brother again, you’ll let my family go. You’ve got five minutes and then the next call I get better be from my wife!” He hung up before Carlos could reply.

The minutes crawled by and everyone in the car wash remained silent as they waited. Three minutes later, the phone rang. Damien smiled with satisfaction as he answered.

“I have telled my men to move your whore and bastard girl,” said Carlos. “If you hurt my brother, he will not be able to tell you where they are.”

“Let me speak to them,” demanded Damien.

“You will not speak to me in that manner,” replied Carlos. “You understand. I have two peoples. You have one.”

“I have your lawyer,” said Damien.

Carlos laughed and then said, “I no care about him. I bought him for nothing. One hundred thousand dollars Canada. He then talk to me. He tells me all about you. Who can trust hombre like that? Kill him if you wish. He is not important.”

Damien glanced at Leitch and cursed silently, then demanded, “Let me speak with my wife. I want proof that they’re alive!”

“You will have talk soon, amigo. I have telled my men. You will get such a call in one hour.”

“Good. Then...”

“But you have now attacked my family. My ... what you call honour. One of your family is die because you make more mistake. In one hour you can tell me which one!”

“What do you mean!” Damien yelled before realizing that Carlos had hung up. He quickly redialled. No answer.

Damien looked at his men, who stood waiting for instructions. He had none.

chapter thirty-one

Jack gripped his phone and listened intently as JimBo spoke.

“If it is Carlos, he’s untouchable,” said Jim-Bo. “So will Ray be, if he makes it back to Colombia.”

“We’ve got activity,” said Laura, looking through the binoculars. “The warehouse door is opening.”

Jack looked up and saw a van pull out of the warehouse. “Gotta go, Jim-Bo,” he yelled into the phone before grabbing the binoculars from Laura.

Seconds later, Jack knew they were at the right place. “That’s the same van that was at the motel the other night,” he said.

“This place is it!” said Laura, excitedly. “Vicki and Katie ... they’ve got to be inside that warehouse!”

They watched as the van screeched to a stop beside the pickup, then the driver of the pickup ran over and got in the van. Moments later, the van raced away.

“Maybe I can figure out a way to peek inside that place,” suggested Laura. “Pretend I’m lost or something.”

“They took the lookout,” said Jack. “Something’s not right.”

“Maybe he wasn’t a lookout.”

“Maybe. We can always come back later. Follow the van. They might lead us to some other place.”

It was dusk when the van turned off the Lougheed Highway onto Pitt River Road. Laura was stuck in traffic and Jack said, “It’s crossing the Red Bridge.”

Laura found an opening and quickly started to cross the bridge spanning the Coquitlam River, then abruptly slowed down.

“Watch it!” said Jack.

“Too late,” said Laura, “we’re on the bridge. Going to have to pass them.”

Laura watched the van in her rear-view mirror as she drove past. “They’re turning off,” she said. “Small parking area by the bridge.”

Laura drove for a moment before parking on the side of the highway. “What do you figure? Meeting someone?”

“Yeah, maybe someone with a British accent,” said Jack tersely. “Come on, we’ll go on foot.”

Damien sat on the floor, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his face in his hands. You can tell me which one. The words echoed in his brain. Taggart’s partner’s wife ... she had the same option. This isn’t just an idle threat!

Three-quarters of an hour passed before Damien got to his feet and spoke quietly with Whiskey Jake and Lance. Lance went outside as Damien looked at Rellik and said, “Untie him!” while gesturing to Ray. “Give him back his clothes. Wallet, passport — everything!”

“What about Leisure Suit Larry?” asked Rellik.

The hope in Leitch’s eyes disappeared when Damien said, “Leave him as is.”

Ray quickly dressed and Damien handed him the cellphone. “When your brother calls, tell him I’m setting you free. You can just walk out of here.”

Damien saw Lance return and said, “You tell the boys outside to let him go?”

“I told them,” said Lance. “You want me to call a cab too?”

Damien nodded and said, “Tell them to be here in half an hour.”

“Yellow or City?”

“I don’t give a fuck! There’s a phone book in the office. Use it!”

Damien looked at Ray and said, “Nobody will follow you. When you know you’re safe, call your brother and let him know. Your Mercedes is still at Stanley Park. I’ll give you your keys back.”

Ray’s dark eyes gleamed. He was back in control again. There was one thing he was certain. He knew his brother ... and what would happen when he was freed. Damien would pay dearly for this intrusion. He would never see his wife and daughter again. In a few years, when Damien thought he was safe, he would also die. But what choice does Damien really have? Not to release me will mean that both his wife and daughter will die. Of course, they will anyway. But how can you live with never knowing for sure?

Ray stared at Damien, who returned his stare briefly before looking down. Damien was beaten. He knew what was about to happen and there was nothing he could do about it — but beg. Something he was likely willing to do right now.

The Carlos cartel was no stranger to kidnappings. Ray knew that his brother looked at it as entertainment. It instilled terror and maintained the position that Carlos had hacked out for himself. Damien will suffer the fate of many others. He will listen to his loved ones die...

“Hola!” answered Ray when Carlos called.

Ray spoke with Carlos in Spanish, then looked at Damien and asked, “I may leave now?”

Damien peered out from the tarp covering the front window, then replied, “The cab just arrived. Go. Leave the phone so that your brother can call me. When you know that you are safe, use a payphone to call your brother. He can then call me on this phone.”

“I can’t believe you’re letting him go!” shouted Lance. “This is not the way to do this!”

“It is not your family!” yelled Damien. “You are not in charge! I am!”

Ray paused as Lance mumbled an apology. Carlos heard the angry exchange of words and laughed. He then gave Ray instructions: “Make sure you are truly free,” he said in Spanish, “then call. The men are waiting at a place to dispose of two packages but should not wait long. Leave quickly! Do not go home. Do not get your car. Go to the airport!”

Ray hung up and handed the phone back to Damien. He almost felt sorry for him but glanced at Leitch and thought of the indignity he had suffered himself. Almost sorry ... but not quite.

Moments later, Ray gave the taxi driver one hundred dollars to ensure that they were not being followed. He earned his money. His expertise as a city cab driver was evident as he followed orders and whisked down back alleys and ran red lights.

Ray watched carefully to ensure that they were truly not being followed before instructing the driver to pull over by a payphone where he would make two calls.

His first call would be to Carlos. His second call would be to order a taxi from a different company. Even if they were watching the airport, he knew he would be safe once inside. He glanced at his watch and wondered how many hours it would be before he arrived at the Aragon International Airport in Cali. Once in Cali, it was less than an hour’s drive to his home turf of Buga.

Vicki did not have any religious beliefs, but now she prayed that her ride in the van was to their freedom. Her hands were still bound in tape behind her back and her ankles were also bound. Pain radiated up her arm from her severed finger and she wondered how long it would be before the infection killed her ... if she lived that long.

More tape covered her eyes and mouth. She knew that Katie had been bound in the same manner. Both had been bound that way shortly after their arrival at the warehouse. Neither had received any food, water, or bathroom breaks in the last eighty-four hours. Vicki had lost control of her bladder. From the smell, she knew that Katie had defecated. Their only comfort had been to lie back to back on the burlap sacks and touch each other’s fingers.

The van stopped and they waited for a while. She could hear the men speaking to each other. Eventually she was dragged out of the van. She felt men’s arms reach through her own arms and drag her over the ground, scraping her knees as she went. She could hear the sound of water and wondered if she was going to be drowned. She moaned when her knee came in contact with a protruding stone in the path. Other men grunted behind her and she knew that Katie was also being dragged along.

A few minutes later, Vicki was placed sitting on her knees. She heard the sound of a cellphone being dialled, then a man spoke in Spanish. Fingernails scratched her face and the tape was ripped from her eyes. She blinked as flashes of light and shadows mixed. She saw that she was kneeling in front of a river. Seconds later, the band of tape was ripped from her mouth.

“Numbers! What numbers?” a man said, then slapped her across the face.

She blinked her eyes and saw the man holding a cellphone toward her face.

“Your hombre! What numbers?”

Vicki tried to speak, but her throat was swollen and no words came out.

The man cursed in Spanish and was about to slap her again when someone else intervened, grabbing her by the back of her head and shoving her face into the river.

They’re going to drown me now ... my poor Katie...The water suffocated her and she started to choke as her head was brought out, then repeatedly dunked again. Finally she found the words and pleaded, “No, please. Don’t kill us! She’s just a child. I —”

She was brought back to her kneeling position and the man with the cell demanded, “Your hombre. His phone. Talk to me the numbers!”

Vicki then understood what was being asked and quickly gave Damien’s cell number. As the man dialled, the other man spoke in Spanish on another phone.

It was good that Vicki did not understand Spanish as the man verified his instructions from Carlos. He was to slash Katie’s throat as Vicki spoke with her husband. Vicki would then receive the same treatment.

Vicki looked at Katie as she knelt beside her. The tape had been torn from her eyes but she was still gagged and bound. Vicki saw the bewildered look in her eyes as she looked around. The look of bewilderment turned to pleading when she looked at her mother. Vicki had thought the two of them had used up their well of tears in the last few days as their brains slowly went numb. She was wrong.

chapter thirty-two

Jack slapped at a mosquito on his face as he and Laura made their way along a narrow path leading through dense bushes and trees that followed parallel to the river and would eventually lead them to the Red Bridge.

“Dusk ... prime time for these little vampires,” whispered Laura, slapping her own neck.

“There it is,” said Jack, pointing to the upper structure of the bridge as they neared.

“Wait here in the bush. The parking lot should be close. I’m going to take a look and see if they’ve got company.”

Laura waited a moment and then Jack returned.

“Didn’t see any other vehicles except theirs,” said Jack.

“Maybe that’s why they’re waiting,” suggested Laura.

“Using themselves for mosquito bait? Let’s sneak a little closer and see if we can get an eye on what they’re up to.”

A minute later, they heard men’s voices and crouched behind some scrub brush and peeked out. The bridge had numerous large cylindrical cement pillars in a cluster on each side to support the bridge. The pillars themselves were in the ground on each side of the river. The sandy recourse went out from the pillars and then dropped off sharply in a small bank down to the river. The men were standing in a group close to the river but some of them were blocked from view by the pillars. The bush had been mostly cleared around the base of the bridge and Jack and Laura could not get any closer without being seen.

Damien’s hand shook as his fingers stumbled over the button to answer the cellphone.

“So, Damien, my brother is free,” gloated Carlos.

“Let my family go,” said Damien. “Please ... I beg you. Let me speak to them.”

“You telled your man that you were in charge. You are not in charge. I want to hear you say I am boss.”

“Please, your brother is —”

“Now! Then your woman can talk at you!”

“Carlos is in charge!” yelled Damien to his men. “He is the boss!”

Carlos laughed, then said, “Bueno! Now I will tell my man to let your woman speak at you on your own phone. Keep this phone close so we can still talk.”

Seconds later, Damien’s personal cellphone rang and he raised it to his other ear.

“Damien,” gasped Vicki.

“I’m sorry,” cried Damien. “I’m giving them everything they want. Are you ... is Katie?”

“I’ve been told to tell you,” said Vicki, “we are tied up. Katie ... me ... we are on our knees.”

Damien heard Carlos shout a command in Spanish, and Vicki’s voice became a gurgle.

“Now,” said Carlos, “you will pay for what you have done. Your woman can tell you how you pay!”

Vicki gasped and coughed, then said, “I don’t know why he did that. He choked me. I ... Damien! He has a knife! He’s cutting Katie’s neck...”

Damien listened as Vicki screamed. His other ear picked up the sound of Carlos laughing and cheering.

“Your girl is die, Damien! Now your puta! Listen to her...”

Jack heard the sound of a woman’s voice and then saw one of the men yank Vicki into view by her hair and drag her to the top of the bank where she kneeled on the ground. At the same time, another man yanked Katie into view and placed her beside her mother.

“It’s Vicki and Katie!” whispered Jack. “One guy is holding a cellphone up to Vicki’s face. They both look like their hands are tied behind their backs. Ankles bound too.”

“We’re too far away to get the drop on them ... there’s four of them,” said Laura.

“I’ll call for backup,” said Jack. “We can just sit tight until —” Vicki’s scream interrupted his thoughts, and he looked up in horror as he saw one of the men yank Katie’s head back by her hair. A flash of light reflected off the blade of a knife on Katie’s throat. Vicki screamed.

“Police! Drop it!” screamed Jack, leaping to his feet. The men looked up in surprise as Jack sent a bullet zinging above their heads and into the river bank on the opposite side.

Two of the men reacted by pulling out their own pistols as Jack and Laura ran towards them, trying to use some of the bridge pillars as cover. The men fired a volley of bullets that thunked into trees and ricocheted off the cement pillars. The distance was too great for a handgun to be really accurate, but fear instinctively drove the Colombians to fire rapidly.

A couple of the men crouched behind the pillars as Jack and Laura came closer.

“Die, you bastards!” screamed Jack, as he and Laura let loose with their own volley of shots. Shots that quickly improved in accuracy as the gap narrowed.

Jack stumbled over an old firepit, skinning his hand, but then regained his footing and raced ahead to catch up with Laura as she crossed the final few steps of the clearing.

One of the men yelled something at them in Spanish, then turned and pointed his gun at Vicki while looking back at Jack and Laura for a response. His meaning was clear. The response wasn’t what he expected. Instead of backing off, Jack stopped, took aim, and fired. The man leapt backwards as the bullet zinged past his ear.

“Vamoose or you will die!” screamed Jack. “Run and we let you go!”

“Locos!” yelled one of the other men to the others.

That’s right, I probably am crazy, thought Jack.

One of the men yelled at a colleague in Spanish. They violently shoved Vicki and Katie, causing them to scream as they tumbled down the bank and into the river where their screams coldly stopped. The four men bolted through the pillars to the far side of the bridge toward a path that would lead them back to their van.

For Jack and Laura, the choice was obvious. If they pursued the men, Vicki and Katie would drown.

Damien heard the scream and then the sound of shots as both phones went dead. “No!” he cried in anguish. “No!” he yelled again, and then he kicked Leitch hard in the ribcage. Leitch choked and gasped in pain.

Lance was quick to shout instructions into his own cellphone. Seconds later, the striker left his taxi and moved into position. Ray was just calling another taxi to take him to the airport as Rellik’s crew arrived.

Twenty minutes passed before Ray, blinded, bound, and gagged with duct tape, was dragged back into the car wash. Perhaps knowing what was in store for him, he risked being shot and put up a fight when he was approached. It did little to delay his capture but did result in a blow from a steel pipe that broke his arm.

Ray, again stripped naked, was being tied face-down to the railing when Damien knelt in front of him and ripped the tape off his eyes and mouth.

“You couldn’t do it, could you?” said Damien. “Let my wife and my daughter live. You could have just walked away and released them. But no, you had to kill them!”

“It wasn’t me,” pleaded Ray. “My brother ... he is sick. I would not have hurt them. Please. You must believe that!”

“And was it your brother who cut off my wife’s finger?” yelled Damien.

“His idea. Yes! It was all Carlos!”

“But Carlos wasn’t here, was he?” screamed Damien. “It was you who did it!”

“No. It was men who work for Carlos. Not —”

“And who do you work for?” snarled Damien, picking up the roll of duct tape.

Ray’s eyes bulged as Damien wrapped the duct tape around his mouth. He then shut his eyes tight as Damien ground his foot into his broken arm. The resulting scream could be heard through the tape.

Damien looked at Leitch and said, “And who do you suppose gave Carlos that idea?”

Leitch mumbled through his gag and vehemently shook his head from side to side. Two of his ribs were broken and breathing was painful.

Damien’s cellphone rang. He paused, then looked at his men. “Carlos ... wanting to gloat. He can fucking wait!” he roared, while walking back and kicking Leitch in the face. Blood splattered from Leitch’s broken nose onto Damien’s shoe.

“Wrong phone,” said Lance, as the ringing persisted.

“What do you mean?” yelled Damien, while stooping to use Leitch’s shirt as a rag to wipe the end of his shoe.

“It’s not the phone Carlos sent you. It’s your private one!”

Surprise registered on Damien’s face and he quickly took the phone from his pocket, then held it in the palm of his hand and stared at it as it continued to ring. For a moment, he was afraid to answer. Afraid of what he would hear ... but he had to know.

It was Vicki. She was hysterical and crying but said that she and Katie were alive. Then she cried, “They were going to kill us! We were saved by —”

The phone went dead and Damien stood in a stunned silence for a moment, then turned to his men and said, “That was Vicki. They’re alive!”

“Where are they?” asked Whiskey Jake.

“I don’t know. The line went dead,” he said, as the arrival of hope coincided with the return of panic.

“They let them go!” said Lance.

Instantly Ray’s eyes portrayed his relief and he mumbled a prayer.

“Maybe,” replied Damien. “She said they were going to be killed, but then weren’t. Then the line went dead.”

A moment later, Damien received a text message on his BlackBerry: They’re both okay. We’re on our way to VGH. -JT-

Damien looked at his men. He felt his knees tremble and it took him a moment to comprehend.

“Damien?” asked Lance. “What is it? What’s going on?”

“They weren’t let go,” he said simply. “They were rescued by a cop ... Jack Taggart. They’re on their way to the hospital.”

Bile immediately flooded into Ray’s mouth. He choked and swallowed rapidly to keep from suffocating.

“Taggart! How the fuck did he get his nose into this?” growled Whiskey Jake.

“Yeah,” quickly added Lance, wondering who was talking with whom. He glanced down at Leitch and Ray and felt a wave of fear.

“Whiskey Jake, you come with me,” ordered Damien. “Rellik, you find out everything these two fuckers know. What they know about each other, Carlos, The Toad ... how many guys are working for them ... everything!”

“Will do, boss.”

“But keep them alive until I come back,” added Damien, before turning to Lance and ordering, “Arrange for a security team to cover off the Vancouver General, then meet me there.”

Jack sat in the Emergency waiting room, off by himself. Laura remained in the car outside in the parking lot. She agreed that the fewer Satans Wrath members who knew what she looked like, the better it would be.

Jack didn’t have to wait long before three strikers he recognized from the west-side chapter entered the hospital and quickly scanned the waiting room and the corridors. One of the strikers then went back outside to wait near the entrance. The other two set up a vigil inside.

Several minutes later, Jack saw Whiskey Jake and then Damien enter behind him.

Damien’s eyes met his, and he stood as Damien approached. He was conscious of the two strikers moving toward him, but a flick of Damien’s hand sent them both away. Damien then said something to Whiskey Jake, who took a seat in the waiting room while Damien spoke with Jack.

“Where are they?” asked Damien. “What happened? How...?”

“They’re going to be okay,” said Jack. “They’re both being examined right now. Give the doctors a few minutes, then you can see them.”

“You said they’re okay?”

“Vicki did lose one finger and she has an infection, but other than that, she’ll be okay.”

“Katie! What about Katie?”

“She wasn’t sexually molested. She is missing two teeth from being punched in the mouth. I understand they’re baby teeth so ... anyway, she’ll be okay. They’re both dehydrated and in shock, but that’s it.”

“They punched her in the mouth! She’s only eight years old,” seethed Damien.

“She tried to rescue her mom when they attacked her with bolt cutters.”

“How? How did you find them?”

“My partner tracked them down through Customs declarations and shipping invoices for coffee. We had just found their warehouse when we saw a van leaving in a hurry. We decided to follow the van. It was just luck. We didn’t know Vicki and Katie were inside. We followed the van to a spot along the river in Coquitlam. That’s when we realized what was going on. There were four guys. They got away but we managed to save Vicki and Katie.”

Damien let out a deep sigh, looked at his watch, then said, “Everything go okay with your trip to Mexico? I heard you were a hero.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Well, tonight you really are one.” He looked at his watch again and said, “That’s it. I’m not waiting out here. I’m going to see them. I’ll send you a message in the morning. We’ll talk then.”

Jack nodded, then said, “There’s one more thing. I found out that Carlos has a brother by the name —”

“Ray,” said Damien. “Yeah, I just found out. He’s the one with the British accent. Leitch was two-timing me behind my back. Don’t worry about Ray. He won’t be bothering anyone again.”

“You ... got him?” asked Jack.

Damien nodded.

Jack wondered if Ray was dead and used his finger to make a slashing motion across his neck to convey what he wanted to know.

Damien shrugged, then said, “Yeah, sure if you want to do it personally. I owe you big. If you want to kill him, that’s fine.”

Jack realized the mistake and said, “No! That’s not what I meant. I just wondered if he was still alive?”

“Oh! Yes, he’s being questioned as we speak.” Damien paused, then said, “I presume you had something to do with a shipload of coke that was taken down in San Diego?”

Jack nodded and said, “That’s why Ray tried to kill me. Only he botched it and killed the wrong guy. Acting on orders from Carlos, I presume?”

“Maybe,” said Damien. “Either that or following a suggestion from their lawyer — Leisure Suit Larry.”

“Leitch?”

“It would be his style. He recently recommended that someone from your toxicology department be killed to jeopardize some court cases. I believe her name was Lucy.”

“Lucy! Who did he say this to? Is there a contract on Lucy’s —”

“No. He suggested it to me. I nixed the idea immediately ... but I’m not Carlos. You cost him a lot of money in San Diego. He would agree to have you killed if he didn’t think of it himself.”

“I didn’t exactly advertise my involvement.”

“No, you were waiting to nail me with the second ship,” said Damien bitterly.

Jack nodded and said, “Speaking of that, nobody in my office knows about tonight either. I was grilled this morning about Bishop. I would like to be prepared before I go to work tomorrow morning. Anything you learn from Ray would be appreciated.”

“I’ll see what I find out. I’ll send you a message around four tomorrow morning. We can meet then,” said Damien.

“I don’t start work until eight. We could do it at seven,” said Jack.

Damien shook his head and said, “That doesn’t work for me. If you want to know what Ray said, answer back at four.”

“I would like to ask him a few questions myself,” said Jack quietly.

“Such as?”

“Whose idea it was to try and kill me and Danny’s baby. Was it Carlos or Ray? Also, I want to know how Carlos found out I was involved with the first ship.”

Damien nodded and said, “I’ll ask, then let you know.”

“One more thing. Ask him who the four guys were who kidnapped your family and where they can be found.”

“That,” said Damien, pointing his finger at Jack’s chest, “is my business.” He turned to walk away but paused and said, “We’re just like you guys on this one.”

“How so?” asked Jack.

Damien sneered and said, “We’re making sure that Ray doesn’t say anything without his legal counsel present.”

His legal counsel? Jack realized what Damien meant and watched him walk away. He thought about the early morning hour when Damien said he would call. Certain tasks are better accomplished in the dark ... like body disposal.

Jack checked his watch. That was six hours from now. He left the hospital and got in the car with Laura and told her about the conversation.

“You think they’ve got Leitch and the Brit?” she asked.

“Positive. The way things are going, I bet they’ll both be dead in less than six hours.”

“We better reach out to our friend and see if he knows where they are!”

“Whiskey Jake is with Damien. I’m sure our friend is involved and unable to call. He could be with Rellik right now.”

“So what should we do? Set up on Damien? You can bet he is going to take a personal interest in this.”

“Personal! Oh, it’s personal all right. Just ask Holly or Charlie or Danny and Susan! This is personal! It’s also personal for Damien!”

“Jack, relax,” said Laura quietly. “You don’t have to convince me it’s personal. Danny’s baby convinced me of that. If the both of them are found with a bullet in their head, I won’t exactly lose sleep over it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Good. Then let’s not lose sleep. Go home and rest. I’ll call you as soon as Damien contacts me.”

Laura stared intently at Jack and then nodded in agreement.

They were just pulling out of the lot when Jack received a text message from Lance.

“It’s our friend,” he said, reading the message. “Says we need to talk. Urgent. He is on his way to meet Number One.”

“He’s on his way here,” said Laura. “We could meet him a block away before he arrives.”

Jack shook his head. “We don’t need him telling us tonight what is going to happen. I’d rather he tell us tomorrow.”

“Good point,” replied Laura.

Lance wasn’t too surprised when he received a message back asking, On your way to VGH?

Lance quickly typed, Yes.

Lance was shocked when his next message asked, The two interviews over?

Lance paused, not sure how to respond. Then simply typed, Yes, but not finished.

You safe?

Yes.

We’ll meet tomorrow.

Jack put his BlackBerry away as Laura said, “Yes, but not finished?”

“They’re still alive.”

“That’s what I figured,” said Laura.

A few minutes later, they stopped at a traffic light and Jack noticed that Laura was starting to tremble.

“You okay? Your body is shaking.”

She turned the heater on high and said, “I’m cold.”

“I know how you feel,” said Jack. “I get ... cold too, when I’ve been shot at. It’s funny. You think it would happen at the time, but with me, it seems to come later when I’m actually safe.”

“I guess that’s when we finally have time to think about it. How do you handle it?”

Jack let out a sigh, then said, “Natasha says it’s something you need to be aware of and control. Emotional shock, acute stress disorder, PTSD — whatever the label, it basically boils down to someone being exposed to a life-threatening event. A reaction to something that causes intense fear, helplessness, and horror.”

“Like back at the river.”

“For Vicki and Katie ... yes.”

“You trying to tell me you weren’t afraid? Horrified at what almost happened?”

“Definitely, but not helpless. Neither were you. When we were running toward them, I slipped and fell. It didn’t slow you down any. You continued right on.”

“I was too afraid to turn around. Thought I would get a bullet in the back.”

“Or too angry. Either way, you’re not what I would call helpless. Remember that. You made decisions. You were in control. As long as your brain has control of something, anything, you are not entirely helpless.”

Laura gave him a grim smile, then continued to drive. After a moment she turned the heater off and said, “Thanks.”

“You may not know it yet, but there might be times when this job could become stressful. We have to watch out for each other.”

“It could get stressful!” yelled Laura, while punching Jack on the shoulder. “Well, please let me know if you think that might happen!”

They both laughed, harder than they would normally have, as their bodies and minds leapt at the chance to relieve some tension.

“Does Natasha prescribe something for it? The stress, I mean?” asked Laura, while glancing in the rear-view mirror at her mascara.

“A three-olive martini works for me. Care to join me?”

Laura shook her head. “Thanks, no. Elvis will be wondering what happened. We’ve already logged in fourteen hours today. All I want to do now is close my eyes.”

Laura was almost home when she drove past a liquor store, then slammed on her brakes and backed up.

Jack was relaxing on the sofa talking to Natasha when the phone rang.

“This stuff is awful!” said Laura. “How do you drink it?”

“Ah ... you are wise to phone the master martini maker,” replied Jack. “It is actually an acquired taste. For beginners, I recommend...”

Elvis saw Laura’s hand tremble as she slid a martini across the kitchen table toward him. He took a sip, grimaced, and then said, “So, you set the alarm clock for four?”

Laura nodded.

“Pretty early.”

Laura took a swallow but held the glass with both hands to try to stop it from spilling.

“Are you going to tell me about it?”

Laura peered at him from over her glass but didn’t reply.

“Something bad happened today ... or tonight.”

Laura put her glass back down on the table and her eyes opened wider as she feigned surprise.

Elvis’s face reddened and he said, “Don’t lie to me, Laura! Don’t give me that act surprised, show concern, deny, deny, deny routine. You narcs do it so much that it has become a joke in our office. If you don’t — or can’t — tell me, fine, but respect me enough not to lie to me.”

Laura’s face went blank for a moment, then she started to cry. Elvis put his arms out to her. She quickly rose and then sat on his lap and held him tight.

“I respect you,” she sobbed, “and I love you more than anything. What happened today ... I really love you. This ... I can’t talk about it. Everything will be okay. Just trust me.”

Elvis held her but didn’t respond. What is going on?

chapter thirty-three

It was quarter to four in the morning when Damien, Lance, and Whiskey Jake arrived back at the car wash. Leitch and Ray lifted their heads and turned to stare. They were still naked and tied face-down to the railings on the floor, with gags in place.

Leitch’s eyes were wide with fear. His face was bloodied, but he still had hope. He grunted and whined as he tried to plead. White blisters on the soles of his feet were explained by the cigarette butts lying beside them.

Ray’s eyes were dark. His experiences had taught him that pleading might only prolong the inevitable, delaying the welcome relief of death. The smell of burnt hair lingered in the air from more personal places where a cigarette lighter had been applied to his body.

“What did you find out?” asked Damien.

Rellik tapped Ray in the ribs with his boot and said, “Ray, here, was acting on orders from Carlos. They found out that Jack Taggart was involved with the first shipment that the cops grabbed in San Diego.”

“How?”

“They have sources in the phone companies. They did phone tolls of the U.S. cop who got the search warrants. They found several calls back and forth between him and Taggart. Right before the bust, during the bust ... and a call after. Good idea. Something we should be doing.”

“Why the fuck didn’t Carlos tell me? Would have been nice to know, seeing as we had two more shiploads coming!”

“They figured they had taken care of the problem before the next ship went out, except they whacked the wrong guy. That’s also where Leisure Suit Larry here came in. He told Ray that you weren’t prone to killin’ cops ... not even broads that work in the cops’ labs. They figured if you knew, you might back out of the deal.”

Damien knelt close to Leitch’s face and said, “You will soon discover that killing people is an option I am not always opposed to.”

Leitch grunted and whined as Damien stood to face Rellik again.

“What about The Toad? Where is he?”

“They both deny knowing him.”

“I was told that they were both in a park with The Toad.”

“Maybe someone bullshitted you?” suggested Rellik.

“Same person said that these two knew each other. That info was good.”

“I was pretty thorough, boss,” said Rellik. “I really don’t think they knew him. At least, not under that name.”

Damien thought about this, then asked, “What about trying to drown the cop’s kid?”

“Ray says that Carlos figured they could neutralize the cops by messin’ with their brain cells. Scare ’em all into doin’ nothin’. After that, he said somethin’ about giving them a choice of silver or lead.”

Damien looked at Ray and said, “For your information, the cops in Canada are paid a fuck of a lot more than the cops where you come from. They’re not easily bribed here, and if you offer them silver or lead ... I guarantee they’ll give you lead!”

“There’s another thing with Leisure Boy,” said Rellik. “Ray paid him a hundred grand to backstab us. Leisure Boy gave him reports from the rat cop before we even saw ’em. Also set up companies for Carlos to launder money here.”

“Maybe that was The Toad’s interest in Leitch,” suggested Lance. “Using him to move the money out of Canada for him!”

Leitch shook his head from side to side and let out a muffled protest. It brought him another kick in the ribs from Damien, who then asked, “How many guys they got here?”

“Twenty-one people,” said Rellik. “But only four besides Ray that got balls to do stuff. The rest are mom and pop types used for laundering.”

“Names and addresses?”

Rellik nodded and said, “Phone numbers, too. The four tough asses live in a rented house together. Got someone watching it now. Don’t think anyone is home yet. Ray has his own apartment. We got someone lookin’ in it now.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. Before we got Ray, Carlos was planning to have you personally deliver the last payment down to Colombia. Wanted to see if you would give your life to save Vicki and Katie.”

Damien stared down at Ray for a moment, then said, “Untie his arm. The one that’s broken. He can still use it to hold a phone.”

Rellik untied Ray’s wrist, and a moment later Damien punched in the numbers on the cellphone. He waited until Carlos answered and then said, “Carlos, your brother wishes to talk with you.” He handed the phone to Ray and said, “I’ll let you say goodbye.”

“Carlos!” screamed Ray, then rapidly spoke his native tongue.

Rellik’s face betrayed his wishes as he looked at Damien.

Damien stared briefly at Rellik and thought, You disgust me. He then said, “Yeah, go ahead. Do your thing. Leitch first.”

Ray looked back in panic as Rellik put on a pair of coveralls and surgical gloves before picking up the broken broom handle. He held it with both hands and closely examined the spiral of barbed wire, then looked down at Leitch’s upturned face and grinned.

The high pitch of Ray’s voice made it almost unrecognizable as he relayed the details of what was happening as Rellik twirled the broom handle slightly between Leitch’s buttocks.

Leitch’s body writhed and squirmed against the restraints while he emitted muffled screams. Rellik then thrust deep and Leitch’s eyes and fists closed tight as his body arched. His scream was muffled by vomit. A moment later, his body went limp.

Rellik slowly pulled out the broom handle, then walked around and knelt in front of Ray, holding the bloodied implement close to Ray’s eyes. He looked at Damien and said, “I better tape his mouth.”

Damien nodded and took the phone from Ray, who pleaded until Rellik applied the tape.

Rellik then looked at Ray and said, “For you, I will not be so kind. It will be much slower.”

Damien held the phone close to Ray’s mouth. The gag that Ray wore did not block out the screams broken by the intermittent whimpering of a dying man. In the background, the sound of Carlos’s voice could be heard on the phone as he alternated between pleading, offering money, and then screaming when Ray quit speaking.

Damien put the phone to his mouth and said, “How does it feel, Carlos?” before smashing the cellphone on the floor and grinding it with his heel. He then hurried out of the building.

Lance followed and stood silently as Damien vomited before getting in the car.

Jack was awake when he received the text message from Damien. They were to meet at six o’clock.

Jack called Laura and asked, “You awake?”

“Already showered.”

“We meet him in an hour and forty-five minutes. I’ll pick you up. It’s on the way to the meet.”

“An hour and forty-five! He could have let us sleep longer.”

“I’ll buy you breakfast. Something other than olive soup.”

Elvis’s eyes were closed, but he was awake when he heard Laura rummaging in the bureau dresser. She then went to the bathroom.

He listened to the sound of her refilling the bullets in her clip ... and then the backup clip. What the hell happened yesterday? Moments later, he felt her warm kiss on his cheek, then she was gone.

Jack and Laura were just pulling into a coffee shop parking lot when Jack received another text message. It was from Lance.

“Our friend is still up,” said Jack. “Better cancel breakfast. We don’t have much time.”

“Cemetery?” asked Laura.

“You trying to pick up another date? Forget it. We’re using a parkade.”

Twenty minutes later, Lance climbed into the back seat.

“The Brit is Ray,” said Jack, before Lance could speak. “Carlos’s brother.”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ figured you knew that,” mumbled Lance. “I thought I was about to be done with all this bullshit of havin’ to work with you, until Damien met ya at the hospital last night. Thought he would tell ya. Didn’t know you two were so tight.”

“Actually we figured it out before then,” replied Jack. “So what happened? I know Damien had both Leitch and Ray grabbed.”

“They were more than grabbed.”

Lance recounted what happened and Jack and Laura listened quietly to the grim fate of Leitch and Ray. When Lance finished, he stared quietly at Jack for a moment and then said, “So you knew that Ray was the guy before Damien talked to ya in the hospital?”

Jack nodded.

Lance frowned and said, “Shit! I was close to winning this time.”

“Winning what?” asked Laura.

“An agreement with your partner here. He said if I could identify the Brit before he did, I wouldn’t have to work for ya anymore.” Lance looked at Jack and said, “Okay, I better go. I’ll be in touch when I need to be.”

“Don’t bother,” said Jack.

“What ya talkin’ about?”

“We’re even,” said Jack. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve more than repaid your debt. This is the last time I ever expect to hear from you.”

Lance’s eyes opened wide. “You mean it?”

“I mean it,” said Jack, while extending his hand over the back seat.

Lance was quick to shake his hand and then said, “Man, you don’t know what a relief this is! Don’t take it personal — you’ve been real solid with me — but not seein’ ya anymore is ... well, better than winnin’ the lottery.”

“You’re president of the west-side chapter,” said Jack. “Think about it. If you don’t want to see me, don’t look in your rear-view mirror!”

Lance paused as he thought about what Jack said, then laughed. When he got out of the car he turned and automatically said, “See ya around.” He then took two steps and said, “What the fuck am I sayin’? I ain’t never seein’ ya again!”

Laura waited until Lance left the car before saying, “You’re cutting him loose at a time like this?”

Jack shrugged and replied, “I don’t really like it either, but fair is fair. I’ve put the guy through enough. Besides, right now I want Carlos and he can’t help me with him.”

“Your call,” replied Laura. “Right now I’m too sick thinking about what Rellik did. A bullet in the head is one thing, but this ... I feel nauseous.”

“I feel the same way,” replied Jack.

“And we’re supposed to meet Damien in less than half an hour! He’s as demented as Carlos is! ”

“It made Damien sick. Neither of us has thrown up.”

“Yet.”

Jack nodded. I won’t be sick ... but my nightmares are going to become wilder.

“Rellik ... sticking that up a person’s bum!” exclaimed Laura. “You heard our friend. He enjoyed what he did! What kind of person would do that?”

“A psychopath, just like Carlos.”

“And you think we should talk to Damien? Rellik wouldn’t have done it if Damien didn’t let him.”

“You can’t show weakness when you’re the lead wolf. Besides, we can use Damien to catch Carlos. That is who made this personal for us.”

“Yeah, he made it personal, and I would like to see someone put a bullet in his head. But he’s too protected. I think we should go with who we can catch. Concentrate on Rellik and Damien. Which is why I wish our friend — or ex-friend now — was still working for us.”

“I want Carlos!” said Jack, feeling agitated. “Who do you think is worse? Carlos, who is responsible for the murder of Holly’s husband, turning Charlie into a paraplegic, and trying to drown O’Reilly’s baby ... or Damien, for murdering the people who kidnapped and mutilated his wife and daughter?”

“I know what you’re saying, but...”

“But what?”

“After what we just heard? I won’t sleep as long as Rellik’s above ground! I can picture him grinning as he did it! His long stringy red hair, that thin face and chipped front tooth. I can feel myself vibrate with anger, just thinking about him.”

“You’ve been studying photographs.”

“He stands out. Now in more ways than one. I’d love to get the chance to double-tap two into his chest.” She then became silent, imagining the horror of what went on inside the car wash.

Jack drove out of the parkade toward their rendezvous with Damien and then said, “Maybe when it comes to protecting our families, certain actions are made without much rationalization.”

“You condoning what they did?”

“No. Definitely not. Damien’s a monster. No doubt. But he does have a human side to him. Can’t say the same from what I know about Carlos.”

“Carlos lives in another country protected by an army. He’s untouchable. Damien might not be. I think you’re making a mistake. Let’s nail Damien ... or at least Rellik. That’s who I really want. Ray is dead. We’re going to have to forget about Carlos.”

“Nobody is untouchable.”

Laura paused, then conceded, “You’re right, but neither are we.”

“Are you that upset that Leitch and Ray are dead?”

Laura sighed and then said, “Not that they’re dead. Upset with how they died. Wish he had just shot them instead. Treat them like you would a rabid dog. Don’t torture them. Just shoot them and be done with it.”

“Oh, I see. Your philosophy. Shoot, shovel, and shut up!”

Laura smiled and said, “Yeah, maybe that is becoming my philosophy. Right now I’m just glad it’s over.”

“Over? It’s not over!” The anger flashed across Jack’s face as he reached to the visor and threw Charlie’s picture down on her lap. “Look at that and tell me it’s over! Call Susan O’Reilly and tell me then that it’s over!”

Laura felt stunned, then said, “I meant over as far as who attacked Danny’s baby. That was Ray. He’s dead.”

“Ray was a pawn!” said Jack bitterly. “Carlos calls the shots. As long as he’s alive, there will be more victims. Think about the ones you and I know ... imagine how many others there are.”

Laura looked at Charlie’s picture.

“Carlos has the power to continue his terror,” continued Jack. “When he’s dead, then we can say it’s over,” he added quietly.

“Jack, you said it yourself. He lives in Colombia. Surrounded by his own army. DEA have tried unsuccessfully to extradite him for years. There’s no way.”

Jack gave Laura a hard look. “There’s always a way ... but I need a partner who thinks like I do.”

“And how do you think?”

“Not afraid to play dirty.”

“Like torture?”

“I agree with you on that philosophy, but I do consider Carlos to be a rabid dog.”

Laura looked at Jack for a moment, then asked, “You already have a plan, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Laura waited, but Jack didn’t elaborate. He’s not going to tell me unless I agree to help. Laura glanced at Charlie’s picture one more time. Oh man! She looked at Jack and asked, “Do I need to buy rubber boots and a shovel?”

“Maybe.”

“If it was for Rellik, I’d buy them right now, but Carlos? How can we?”

“My plan won’t work without you.”

Laura sighed and said, “I figured that. What’s your plan?”

“It’s really quite simple,” replied Jack.

Jack left Laura sitting in the car as he walked along the path meandering through New Brighton Park. Damien, freshly showered and clothed, was on time.

“How are Vicki and Katie?”

Damien took a deep breath and slowly let it out before saying, “They’re going to be okay. Thanks for asking.”

“They’re both traumatized,” said Jack. “They’re going to need special help.”

“I know. They’ll get it.”

Damien extended his hand and said, “I should have done this last night in the hospital. I want you to know I wasn’t ashamed to be seen shaking your hand ... I was just too upset to think about anything other than seeing them.”

Jack accepted the handshake and Damien said, “Thank you. I will never forget what you did. You saved my family twice.”

“Twice?”

“First time on Sunday when you found the money.”

Jack shrugged and said, “You helped me become a Mexican hero.”

“That was one favour. You saved two of my family. Then did it again yesterday. Figure I owe you three more favours.”

“Yesterday I wasn’t alone,” replied Jack. “My partner was actually the one who found out where they were being kept.”

Damien nodded.

“How are you going to explain Vicki’s injury?” asked Jack. “They’ll know it’s not fresh.”

“Accidentally chopped it off when she was backpacking in the wilderness. Was a two-day hike to get back out. Katie said she fell.”

“Their clothes aren’t what you would call hiking clothes.”

“The docs know it’s not true ... but they also know who we are. All they needed was an excuse to write down on some form. They’re too afraid to call the police.”

“Good thing you didn’t try and pull that stunt with Natasha.”

Damien grinned and said, “I know better. She’d probably slash my throat with a scalpel.”

“You find out the answers to my questions?” asked Jack, choosing to ignore the remark.

“Yeah, I did.”

Jack listened closely as Damien told him everything he had found out. He didn’t mention how Leitch and Ray died. He summed it up by saying, “There are some details that are best left unsaid. If I was psychic, I might make a prediction that Leitch and Ray are deep-sea diving. Bet they remembered their weights but forgot their tanks.”

Jack gave Damien a long, hard stare. He realized he was holding his breath and slowly exhaled. He then asked, “So now what? You know Carlos is going to come after you.”

“Yeah, I know. But what was I supposed to do? By the time I figured out who Ray was, it was too late for apologies. Besides, Carlos was going to kill me anyway. He wanted me to make the last payment myself in Colombia. Once I did that, he would have whacked me and my family.”

“So what will you do? Take your family and hide? Carlos is not going to let this drop. Especially when he finds out ... what you did.”

“He already knows. I let Ray talk to him just before ... a certain procedure.”

“His revenge could be swift,” noted Jack. “He’s already set up here laundering money through coffee companies. He’ll have guys looking for you or anyone else you know.”

“I know. I don’t know what to do. It’s not like I’d ever get a chance to nail him first. All I wanted to do was save my family.”

“You’re not the only one who wants Carlos. He made this personal for our side. I want him!”

Damien’s thoughts were still on his own family and he said, “I’ve got guys guarding my house. I thought of moving everyone to some other country, but with Carlos’s money and connections, it would probably be just a matter of time.”

“Witness protection program?”

“Fuck you. I’m not testifying on anything. I’d take my chances with Carlos first.”

“If I told you a way to get to Carlos, would you help?”

Damien eyed Jack suspiciously and then said, “Maybe. What are you thinking?”

“You would have to pretend to be my informant and —”

“Not a chance! I’m not being a rat to —”

“I said pretend! You won’t say anything we don’t already know or would find out.”

Damien looked at Jack curiously and then asked, “What’s your plan?”

“It’s really quite simple. There’s another cartel in Colombia that rivals Carlos’s. It’s called the Ramirez cartel. With your connections, I bet if we were in Colombia, you could connect with that cartel in less than a week.”

“Diego Ramirez. He lives in Cali.”

“You’ve heard of him then?”

“I’ve been to his villa for dinner.”

“Perfect.”

Damien grunted and said, “His prices were a little steep.” He then glanced around and added, “But I guess, ultimately, not as steep as Carlos’s.”

“Is Carlos based out of Cali too?”

Damien shook his head and said, “Nope. A small city called Buga. It’s less than an hour’s drive north of Cali.”

“Close enough,” said Jack thoughtfully.

“Close enough for what?”

Jack looked at Damien closely, then said, “Time for you to meet my partner, then we’ll discuss strategy.”

“Fine by me. I want to shake O’Reilly’s hand, too, for what you guys did last night.”

“O’Reilly’s busy looking after his own family. My new partner is Laura Secord.”

Damien’s face registered his surprise, then he said, “Jesus. A fucking broad?”

“A fucking broad? This is from someone who once told me that there could be a ‘certain degree of verisimilitude’ to what I say? The same guy who asked why cops tend to ‘lard on the tough talk’?”

Damien stared at Jack but didn’t respond.

“You sound like you think I’m one of the bozos who work for you!”

Damien frowned and said, “That’s upsetting. I think you might have a point. Sometimes it’s hard to think you’re not just some guy from another chapter.”

“That kind of scares me,” said Jack, wondering if Danny was right. How close am I to being one of the bad guys?

“You trust her? Your new partner?” asked Damien.

“She’s the one who found your family last night. She’s smart ... pragmatic. I trust her. Something I don’t feel about too many people.”

“If Carlos finds out I’m in Colombia, he’ll slowly skin me alive. I mean that literally.”

“Do you want Carlos or not?”

“It’s either him or me. Do I really have a choice?”

“Then let’s do it. Come on, I’ll introduce you to Laura. Your life will be in her hands. I suggest you don’t call her a ‘fucking broad’.”

Damien shook hands with Laura. The meeting was brief as Jack quickly reiterated what Damien had just told him. He then told them about his plan to trap Carlos.

When Damien left, Laura looked at Jack and said, “Find me a ladies’ room. I shook hands with him. I know it’s psychological, but I need to wash.”

“Likewise,” said Jack.

“Then your plan says we go to the office and lie to the people who are on our side?”

“Exactly,” said Jack.

“Oh, man...”

chapter thirty-four

Anti-Drug Profiteering investigators arriving at work were greeted by Jack and Laura, who had called a meeting. Randy Otto from I-HIT also attended. They listened attentively as Jack and Laura described the Carlos cartel and outlined the Colombians’ money-laundering activity orchestrated by Ray and Leitch through a chain of coffee shops.

Jack paused as different investigators hastily wrote notes, then he looked at Randy and said, “Yesterday, while I was being detained in the office, Laura did some checking and found several businesses and a warehouse that the Colombians have invested in.”

“I’ve made copies for all of you,” said Laura, sliding sheets of paper across the table.

“Laura and I met our informant early this morning,” said Jack. “Last night things went sideways. Leitch was skimming money that he shouldn’t have. Our informant says Leitch met with Ray last night and then disappeared.”

“The Colombians teaching Leitch a lesson?” asked Randy.

“Excellent guess,” replied Jack. “It shouldn’t take long to verify. Find Ray and you may find Leitch. If all this is true, and I believe our informant is reliable, evidence of the money laundering is likely in Leitch’s office or in a safety deposit box held by his secretary.”

“It won’t take long to find out if Leitch is missing,” said Randy, checking his watch. “He should be at work by now. Someone toss me a phone book and I’ll call his office.”

“I suggest everyone jump on this,” said Jack. “As soon as the Colombians know we’re on to them, they’ll head for the border.”

Randy quickly learned that Leitch had not shown up to work and had missed a scheduled meeting with a client that morning. His girlfriend reported that he hadn’t come back to his apartment last night.

Four hours later, Leitch’s secretary went to her bank and tearfully turned over records to ADP involving the laundering scheme. It didn’t take them long to search the warehouse and several businesses. It was apparent that the Colombians had already fled.

Bloody bolt cutters with traces of human tissue, along with blood on sacks of coffee beans, were located at the warehouse. The investigators submitted the evidence for DNA examination and believed that Leitch had paid the ultimate sacrifice for his crime. Later the DNA was found not to match, but that did little to undermine the Colombians’ violent reputation.

Elvis watched Laura as she quietly ate her dinner. Her eyes were distant and her face was without expression.

“Seems you did well today,” he said.

“Yeah, it tastes good,” she replied.

“I’m not talking about the chops I just cooked. I heard what you and Jack did at work today.”

The focus returned to her eyes. She leaned back in her chair and asked, “What do you mean? What did you hear?”

“I was talking to someone in ADP. Heard they’ve frozen $2.4 million in Colombian drug money. Not bad for your ... second official day at work.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, it’s a good start.”

Elvis noticed that Laura’s eyes returned to some distant view. A view that he wanted to see.

“Menu?” asked Holly, while pouring Jack a cup of coffee.

“No, thanks. Just on my way home for supper. Natasha’s expecting me.”

“You just pop in to say hi?”

“Came to ask you a question.”

Holly took a seat in the booth across from him and said, “Go ahead.”

“Do you believe in capital punishment?”

It was a question Holly hadn’t expected, and the surprise registered on her face. “I never really thought about it before, but ... yes, I believe in it now. Why? It doesn’t really matter. Even if you catch the guys, it’s not done here.”

“People don’t always know what is done and what isn’t.” Jack reached in his pocket and took out a twenty-dollar bill and said, “Remember this?”

“That the same one?”

Jack nodded.

“I told you I wouldn’t accept it until you caught the guys.”

Jack nodded, stood up, tossed some coins on the table, and said, “This is for the coffee.” He then ripped the twenty-dollar bill in half and dropped one piece on the table. “I’m working on the second half. Appreciate it if you keep this between the two of us.”

Holly sat in a stunned silence as he walked away.

The following day, Isaac summoned both Jack and Laura into his office and gestured for them to take a seat.

Isaac smiled and said, “I’ve been apprised by ADP and I-HIT about the intelligence you two gathered this week. A lot of money and assets have already been frozen. It would appear that you’re responsible for destroying a major organized crime family before they could get too established. Well done!”

“Thank you, sir,” said Jack and Laura in unison.

“However,” said Isaac, “there are still a few loose ends. For one, that lawyer is still missing and presumed murdered. For another, when it comes to the Colombians, it is obvious that none of the main players have been apprehended.”

“I warned our units that they would likely flee for the border once the investigation started,” said Jack. “Unfortunate, but not really anyone’s fault. I think the Colombians took that precaution after Leitch was kidnapped.”

“Your informant in this matter, is it the same person you cultivated last year with O’Reilly?”

“No, sir. This one just came on board yesterday, but obviously his information is proving to be both valuable and accurate.”

“Obviously,” said Isaac. “Who is it?”

Jack paused to take a deep breath and slowly exhaled before saying, “It’s the national president of Satans Wrath.”

“What?” yelled Isaac.

“His name is Damien,” continued Jack.

“I know his name! Why ... how ... why is he talking to you? This is absurd! I don’t believe it. How did you ever convince him to cooperate?”

“I had approached him the other day, trying to find out if he would tell me anything about the Indos. He wasn’t all that cooperative, but it must have got him thinking. He contacted me and we set up a meeting with him yesterday morning. He said he wants to retire, but the club won’t let him.”

“He’s the national president. Can’t he quit when he wants? This has to be a trick!”

“He’s the boss for Canada,” said Jack, “but the club is international. There are still people above him. Some with grandiose ideas.”

“You expect me to believe that he would turn on his own club? After all these years?”

“No, and he made it clear that he won’t. He’s willing to cooperate to expedite his own interests, which would also benefit us.”

“How so?” asked Isaac, leaning forward in his chair and looking closely at the two faces in front of him.

“He’s been ordered to import tonnes of cocaine into Vancouver from Colombia.”

“Why him?”

“B.C. basically has the lowest sentencing rate in the world for drug traffickers. Not only is this the safest place to set up an international distribution centre, but cargo leaving here doesn’t get the same scrutiny it does in Third World countries.”

“That I understand, but why is Damien cooperating?”

“He simply wants out. He’s fifty-three years old and has a wife and three children. His values are changing and he doesn’t like to be pressured into doing anything. He’s also worried about the new anti-gang legislation.”

“Section 467.13 of the Criminal Code. That hasn’t even been tested here yet. I understand that won’t be before the courts until almost Christmas.”

“I know, but Damien is a visionary. He wants to retire now while things are still good. He thinks that if a major dope deal or two went sour here, then some other location would be selected instead and he would be free to retire.”

“Is that why he handed over the Colombians?”

“Yes. He wants to slowly extricate himself from everything. He’s been ordered to go down to Cali, Colombia, and order a tonne of cocaine. He is willing to take us along, providing we don’t burn him and seize the ship before his own people get involved.”

“From the Carlos cartel? The man we think is responsible for the lawyer’s disappearance?”

“Satans Wrath think they’re too hot now with how they mishandled this business with Leitch. He’s been instructed to meet with the Diego Ramirez cartel. Damien has met with him before but opted for Carlos because he received a better price at the time.”

“How do you know he’s not blowing smoke? Trying to set us up somehow?”

“He appears to have been straight with us about Leitch and the Colombians.”

Isaac nodded, then asked, “And is he willing to let us do what it takes to monitor him and make sure he’s on the level?”

“He said he would allow that, as long as we promise never to burn him. He’ll give us the ship, the dope, and all the bodies we can snag as long as we keep him out of it and promise to seize it before his guys unload it.”

Isaac shook his head and said, “I never would have believed he would turn.”

“It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity,” said Jack. “Won’t cost us that much, and if we take him to Colombia we’ll find out pretty quick if he is being straight with us.”

“Corruption among the Colombian police forces is rampant. We can’t risk that someone down there might tip off Ramirez that Damien is working for us, if, in fact, he actually is.”

“Sir, the Colombian government has formed an elite police squad that is proving to be trustworthy. To provide extra safety, we wouldn’t have to tell everyone down there what is going on. As long as the LO has a few people he can trust, we can make it look like we’re targeting Damien. If Ramirez is tipped off, it would still make Damien look legitimate.”

“If we don’t do this,” said Laura, “I suspect Damien will simply go ahead and import tonnes of cocaine without our knowledge.”

Isaac let out a deep breath, then said, “Okay, I’ll approve it.”

“Sir, I don’t anticipate his cooperation unless Laura and I go along as his handlers. We’ve built up a trust.”

“That goes without saying.” Isaac then pointed his finger at Jack and Laura and said, “But I want full electronic surveillance on him from the time he lands until he returns.”

“He won’t be able to wear a wire when he meets with Ramirez. They are bound to sweep for bugs.”

“Then how will we know he’s not deceiving us?”

“We’ve already discussed this with him. Laura and I are both operators. I could play the part of Damien’s financial consultant and Laura could play the part of his mistress.”

“He’ll agree to that?” said Isaac, sounding surprised.

Jack and Laura both nodded their heads.

“It would also provide the appropriate cover and protection for us to stay in the same hotel as Damien,” said Laura. “We could monitor him closely and pass on information to our people. As Jack said, it would be safer if not everyone knew who we really were.”

“I agree. Get on it, but I still want you to bring some equipment with you. If there is a chance to record any of this, it could later prove valuable. I’ll leave it up to your discretion if you think an opportunity arises where it is safe to use it. You’ll need to have Damien sign the waiver forms before you go, giving permission for electronic monitoring between the three of you. It will give you a chance to appraise his integrity, even if you decide not to use it. If he refuses to sign it, then I would look at it as a sign that he is trying to deceive us.”

“I’m sure he won’t object, sir,” said Jack, “as long as there is no chance of it being detected.”

“Good. You better get started. I’ll notify Drug Section myself. I’ll have them send a team and contact our LO in Bogota to meet you in Cali.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Jack.

Isaac looked pensive, then said, “You will both have to tread carefully. Heed the advice from the LO. Colombia averages over a hundred kidnappings a month, mostly Colombians, but some foreigners as well. Safety comes first. If something doesn’t seem right, I want everyone back here, pronto.”

“Yes, sir,” they replied.

On the way out of Isaac’s office, Jack leaned over to Laura and whispered, “I hope Elvis likes redheads!”

Isaac waited until Jack and Laura left his office before placing a call to Drug Section. They would send a team of four.

Isaac then called Staff Sergeant Legg in the Anti-Corruption Unit. They would be sending representatives as well, in advance and on a separate flight. Elvis would not be one of them.

Isaac also informed Legg that waiver forms giving permission for electronic monitoring would be signed, with Jack believing that he was in control of whether to use it. Legg smiled. Dirty pool, perhaps ... but legal. In view of this, it was decided that they would also send two men from a more technical unit. Men whose training and reputation indicated they could plant a bug up your butt without you knowing it.

chapter thirty-five

It was eleven o’clock at night when Jack, Laura, and Damien checked into their rooms at the Intercontinental Cali Hotel under fake names. Their flight from Vancouver had taken ten and a half hours. It took another hour to clear customs and then half an hour to rent a car. Despite this, with the two-hour time difference and an added boost of adrenalin, none of them felt like sleeping.

They adjourned to the hotel bar and all ordered a local beer called Aguila. Jack noticed that four members from the Vancouver RCMP Drug Section were already seated in the bar, but they pretended not to know each other. Jack and Laura were scheduled to meet with them the following morning upon the arrival of the RCMP liaison officer stationed in Bogota.

“Narcs?” asked Damien, with a nod of his head toward the other table.

Jack nodded silently.

“They get to pack pieces?”

“Not allowed,” said Laura. “None of us have any authority to pack heat.”

“Trust me,” said Jack, “the local authorities covering us will be armed to the teeth.”

“You, I sort of trust,” said Damien. “The local authorities, I don’t!”

“Tomorrow, when we meet Ramirez ... how much do you trust him?” asked Laura.

“Diego? Well, he sounded okay when I called him last week. A little surprised but seemed friendly enough.”

“We’ve got to do this fast,” said Jack. “In and out quick.”

“Just like a boy losing his virginity,” said Damien. “You don’t have to tell me. Can you imagine what Carlos would do if he knew I was here? Fuck!” He glanced at Laura and said, “Sorry about that ... but think about it. Carlos is less than an hour’s drive away. I’d be happy if we could fly back tonight!”

“Any chance of us meeting Ramirez someplace public?” asked Jack.

“I doubt it,” said Damien. “His place is probably safer. Lots of bodyguards and less chance of some rival trying to take him out. If he did agree to a restaurant, his guards would kick everyone else out and the whole place would be jittery.”

Jack looked into Laura’s eyes and knew they were both thinking the same thing. If anything went wrong tomorrow, there would be no hope of a cover team being able to extract them — at least, not alive.

“Down here, you also got to really watch for bikes,” warned Damien. “Small ones, like Yamahas or Suzukis, with two riders. One guy drives and the other one shoots. They can disappear in traffic before the victim hits the ground. Real pros.”

Jack took a sip of beer and thought about the men who killed Holly’s husband. He knew the sound of motorcycles would haunt her for the rest of her life.

“I’m going to call it a night,” said Laura. “I want to give Elvis a call before I turn in.”

Jack nodded. He would call Natasha as well. Tell her how much I love her ... but try not to have her worry...

It was nine o’clock the following morning when Jack and Laura went to a room two floors above where they were staying to meet with the other RCMP investigators.

Jack shook hands with the RCMP liaison officer, who introduced himself as Jean-Louie. He knew Jean-Louie by reputation as being a top-notch undercover operator before taking on the job of foreign liaison officer. He was also fluent in French, English, and Spanish.

Jack felt the firm handshake and saw the flash of a smile as Jean-Louie’s eyes met with his.

“I know you by reputation,” said Jean-Louie. “Old-school operator. Not too many of us around. I’m glad our paths have finally crossed.”

“Likewise,” replied Jack.

Jack watched as Jean-Louie shook hands with Laura. He admired him for the work he was doing. His own paranoia of working narcotics in Colombia for only a day or two was bad enough. It was hard to imagine how Jean-Louie could handle the pressure on a full-time basis.

Jean-Louie then gave a thumbnail sketch of Diego Ramirez and the local area. Ramirez controlled an army of men in Cali, which was located in the Valle de Cauca, the heart of Colombia’s cocaine business.

A short distance away to the north, a place the locals called Norte del Cauca was home to several militant factions who protected the cocaine labs in return for an infusion of cash to support their war with the Colombian government. Over a thousand people in this vicinity had been murdered in six months because of rivalry in the cocaine trade.

Ramirez owned a chain of stores selling leather goods, including shoes and jackets. He was also known to be heavily invested in the petroleum industry in Costa Rica, where he laundered his money. In short, he was one of the top drug lords around and had been targeted unsuccessfully by the DEA for years.

Jean-Louie said he basically trusted the special police unit that came with him to provide protection in Cali, but even they would be kept in the dark about the real identity of Jack and Laura.

“And our friend, obviously,” said Laura.

Jean-Louie nodded, then pointed his finger at Jack and Laura and said, “Under no circumstances are you to leave Cali! It will be difficult to provide cover here, but the city is big enough that they are used to strangers. Nearby cities, like Buga and Palmira, are infested with spies. People who are the eyes and ears of various drug lords. Any cover team put in these areas would be quickly identified and you would be executed ... quickly, if you were lucky.”

“Our friend says Ramirez lives on the northwest edge of the city,” said Jack. “That is where we intend to meet with him. From what I understand, Ramirez is not anxious to leave his own place. Travel elsewhere should not be a problem.”

Jean-Louie reached for his briefcase and said, “I’ll show you some aerial photographs of his estate. He’s situated on forty acres with the best security money can buy. He has a tennis court, a couple of pools, and it is even reported that he has a bowling alley in his home.”

“Sounds like he is managing to eke out a living,” said Laura, before smiling.

“This guy is big,” replied Jean-Louie. His voice was serious and there was little doubt that he was worried. “I’ll get guys in the vicinity to try and follow in the event you drive someplace, like to a restaurant or something. Just remember they can’t get too close. You’d be dead if they’re spotted. As far as being at his place ... nobody could ever get to you in time if something did go wrong. So understand that you’ll all be on your own when you’re there.”

“We understand,” replied Jack. “Our friend did call Ramirez before we came down. He was told to go to a shoe store here in Cali first where he was to place a call to arrange to meet.”

“I read the reports on Satans Wrath’s past involvement with the Carlos cartel,” said Jean-Louie. “If Ramirez isn’t available, maybe your friend could look him up. He’s not quite as sophisticated as Ramirez, but personally I believe he would be a worthy target. His reputation is rather ugly.”

“Carlos drew too much heat when he took out that lawyer in Vancouver for skimming money,” said Jack.

Jean-Louie wasn’t easily dissuaded. He responded, “I-HIT is looking for four guys connected to Carlos for the lawyer’s disappearance. Also his brother, Ramon. I’m sure they’re back here now. If your guy is still tight with Carlos, it might be a good chance to find out.”

Jack shook his head and replied, “Satans Wrath does-n’t want anything to do with them. They’re too unpredictable. Ramirez is our target. We’ll go with our friend in a few minutes to the shoe store and let him reconnect. We can then let you know when and where.”

Jean-Louie slowly nodded and then said, “Good enough. It’s your call. We’ll cover you when you go. I was told you’re playing the part of your friend’s money launderer?”

Jack nodded and said, “I know enough to pull it off.”

“And you?” said Jean-Louie while looking at Laura. “I understand that you’re pretending to be the mistress?”

“As much as I hate bikers, I think I can manage the role,” replied Laura.

“You recently dye your hair red?” asked Jean-Louie.

Laura frowned, then replied, “Why do you ask?” “Ramirez has a reputation for loving redheads. I just wondered if you did it to impress him.”

Laura shrugged and said, “Not really. I just thought I would try a new look.”

Jean-Louie would have accepted her explanation but saw her glance at Jack when she answered. She wants to know if Jack approved of her response. They are hiding something.

“There is one more thing,” said Jean-Louie. “You have your cell so I’ll give you a cool number in Canada that is on call-forward back to me. If there is a problem, pretend you are calling your colleague in Canada. Try and let me know what is going on, but be aware that they might have the equipment to monitor both ends of the conversation.”

“Understood,” said Jack. “If I want the cavalry to arrive, I’ll ask how Charlie is. Otherwise, just play it by ear.”

“Good enough. If I hear Charlie I’ll send the teams in with guns blazing, although I doubt they could get to you in time.”

As Jack wrote down the phone number, Laura said, “You know, Jack, I’ve had a migraine all morning. Would you mind if I skipped going with you to make the call? I need to lie down for a couple of hours.”

“Not a problem,” replied Jack. “It’s just a phone call. Besides, our friend wants to go into the store alone. He doesn’t want to include either of us until he gets permission from Ramirez to introduce us. You and I won’t do our thing before this afternoon.”

Jean-Louie watched as they left. Laura’s eyes look bright and alert. Her reputation says she’s dedicated. Too dedicated to be put off by a headache while in Colombia, of all places!

Jean-Louie returned to his own room and sat on the bed for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before reaching for the phone. He hoped his gut instincts were wrong. He hated dirty cops.

A team from the Anti-Corruption Unit were only minutes away. The call was brief. Jean-Louie would pair off the RCMP narcs with the Colombian team to cover Jack and Damien. ACU would monitor Laura. Room bugs had not picked up anything of value yet, although Damien was prone to talking in his sleep.

Laura waited until she knew that Jack, Damien, and the cover team had left the hotel before putting the “Do Not Disturb” sign on her door and heading to the lobby. Soon she found a taxi driver who spoke a leetle English to take her to the northwest part of the city. She wanted to find a motel on the outskirts, someplace isolated. The taxi driver smiled. For such a beautiful woman, he understood the need for discretion. He knew a few such places.

Eventually Laura settled for Maria’s Cabinas. The taxi driver waited patiently while Laura went inside the officina and rented three cabins grouped in a cluster. Only one unit would be used, but Laura didn’t want anyone else hit by a stray bullet when Carlos died.

On her way back to her hotel, she had the taxi stop at a pharmacia. In the event the team was back from covering Jack and spotted her entering the hotel lobby, the pills she carried to relieve her migraine would explain her absence.

She entered the hotel lobby and did not see anyone she recognized. Moments later, she got off the elevator and paused in the hall and knocked on Jack’s door. There was no answer so she entered her own room and closed the door behind her. She took a few steps and abruptly stopped. Her room had not remained empty in her absence. She was in trouble and she knew it. Before she could move, a sharp knock landed on her door.

chapter thirty-six

Jack parked the car a couple of blocks from the shoe store and lagged behind Damien as they walked. He used his cellphone to discreetly take a picture of Damien from behind, then another of his profile as he crossed the street. The third picture was of Damien passing a newsstand. Today’s headlines were taped to the wooden structure in the background.

When Damien entered the shoe store, Jack remained outside while he placed a call and sent the three pictures.

As discreet as Jack tried to be, his actions did not completely escape the sharp eyes of Jean-Louie. He was not sure that Jack had actually taken pictures, but there was no doubt that he had made a phone call. Jean-Louie’s thoughts were interrupted when he received a text message from the Anti-Corruption team who were detailed to follow Laura:

Information just received. Reference the four men associated to the Carlos cartel sought in the disappearance of a Vancouver lawyer. These men connected to a warehouse near Vancouver where spent bullets were recovered from a wooden beam used for target practice. Lab matched these bullets to the same gun used in the unsolved murder of a man in Surrey last April. The victim was named Jack Taggart. His one-year-old child, Charlie, was left a paraplegic as a result of the murder. Believe this murder was a botched assassination attempt on Cpl. Jack Taggart. If there is any indication that Cpl. Taggart is connecting with the Carlos cartel, have the Colombian police arrest him immediately and detain for interrogation.

Jean-Louie read the message carefully. The name Charlie did not escape his attention. In a way, Jean-Louie was pleased with the message. Jack and Laura are not dirty ... at least not in a moral sense. But if they think they can seek justice on Carlos, then they are fucking insane!

Carlos was inclined to dismiss the telephone call. It was not possible. But when he studied the three pictures he knew that he was wrong. Damien was here! He had the nerve to come to Colombia to hire an assassin to kill him!

Carlos had been busy plotting to send a team of professionals to Canada to seek revenge. Fantasizing about how he could inflict the most pain before killing Damien had become an obsession. Now Damien shows up in my own backyard!

“I understand that you would like to ... speak with this man,” said Jack.

“Very much,” replied Carlos. “Face to face!”

“I would expect a fee to arrange this. Say $1 million in American?”

“You show me where he is and I will agree to that.”

“I also want your assurance that you will never come after me or my family again.”

“For this, you are my amigo.”

“Good. I am told he will only be in Colombia tonight. I have someone close to him. He fears you. He said he would never be taken alive.”

“I want the last face he sees to be mine!”

“I will know later where he is staying. My friend may be in a position to assist. I am told he always likes to take a shower after having sex. Perhaps my friend will signal when he is in the shower. Do we have a deal?”

“Si, Señor Taggart. We have a deal! How may I contact you?”

“I will contact you. I suggest you have people standing by. Time is of the essence. It will have to be tonight or early tomorrow morning.”

Damien left the shoe store and met with Jack.

“Went great,” said Damien. “They tracked down Ramirez and I spoke with him on the phone. He invited all three of us to his villa for lunch. I declined. It’s noon now. We need more time to get organized, so I said we would be there at two.”

“Excellent. Good work.”

“Everything okay out here?”

“Perfect,” said Jack.

Jack and Damien entered the hotel lobby just as Laura stepped inside the elevator. They caught the next elevator, and moments later Jack knocked on Laura’s door. He saw the movement as she checked the peephole, then opened the door.

Jack saw the look of concern on her face as she held her finger to her lips.

Damien, standing behind Jack, did not see Laura’s finger and asked, “You sneak out and rent a place to use?”

Jack grabbed Damien by the arm but was too late. Both men silently followed Laura inside the room.

Laura pointed to her pillow.

Jack saw the coin and picked it up. A Canadian penny!

Damien frowned and looked at Jack and Laura for an explanation. Jack used a piece of hotel stationery to write “We’re bugged.”

Damien briefly closed his eyes and slapped his forehead. His question to Laura was a serious mistake.

“So, I didn’t really hear you,” said Jack, while turning to face Laura. “Were you able to sneak out and rent a place without anyone knowing?”

Laura was startled but saw the slight nod of Jack’s head.

“Yes, I did,” she said. “Three of them. A place called Maria’s Cabinas.”

“Good,” said Jack somewhat loudly. “I feel bad not letting anyone know, but it is for our own protection. Jean-Louie may trust his people, but I don’t. If anything goes wrong and we need a safe place to hide, that will be it. You pay cash and use a fake name like I told you to?”

Laura took a deep breath and slowly let it out. She then replied, “You bet. How did it go with you? Did you connect?”

“Went smooth,” said Damien, glancing around the room and wondering if video had also been installed. “We’ve been invited to meet Ramirez at his villa at two.”

“I better let Jean-Louie and the narcs know,” said Jack, looking at Damien. “Why don’t you grab a table in the restaurant downstairs for lunch. Laura and I will pay them a quick visit and then come down.”

When the trio left the room, Jack turned to Laura and said, “I thought Elvis was still at home?”

“He is. I talked to him last night. He took the call on the first ring. He wouldn’t lie to me about that!”

“What the hell is going on?” growled Damien. “Who is Elvis?”

“Laura’s husband. Works Anti-Corruption,” said Jack.

“You’ve got to be kidding!” said Damien, looking at Laura.

“He’s a great guy.” Laura shrugged.

“Yeah? Well who are you working on?” asked Damien.

“Enough,” said Jack. “She’s solid. We wouldn’t have been warned if it hadn’t been for her husband. Someone is suspicious. You can bet they’ve got bugs in at Maria’s Cabinas and everywhere else they can.”

“I’m used to that,” grunted Damien. “Now you know how it feels. Shouldn’t change anything.”

“We’re in too deep to back out,” said Jack.

“Good,” said Damien. “Besides, what could really go wrong? All you do is make a phone call and we head for the airport. Let Ramirez take care of loose ends.”

Laura rolled her eyes and thought, What could go wrong? Oh man...

Jack and Laura both forced themselves to smile when Damien stopped at the guard house at the entrance to the Ramirez estate. One guard, carrying an M16A1 automatic rifle, checked their faces carefully while another guard used a telephone. Moments later, the electronic gate opened and they were allowed to proceed.

The estate was treed with a variety of pine, teak, and palm trees. The long driveway that eventually meandered up to the mansion was lined with palm trees. Jack and Laura caught glimpses of guards, with M16s slung over their shoulders, patrolling the grounds.

Jack grimaced. Jean-Louie was right. We’re on our own. He exchanged glances with Laura and Damien. He knew they were thinking the same thing. All we have is each other...

Introductions were made inside the front entrance to the mansion. Above their heads hung a chandelier that was slightly larger than a Volkswagen.

Ramirez was cordial, spoke excellent English, and his eyes sparkled when he met Laura. Jack guessed that he was about sixty years old. He was a tall, solid-looking man with grey hair that contrasted sharply with his dark skin. He had a long ponytail that made his balding head more obvious. Despite the heat and the humidity, he was dressed in a long-sleeved silk shirt and slacks. Leather sandals adorned his feet.

They were ushered out to the rear of the mansion, past an Olympic-sized pool where a bevy of young and beautiful women either lay on lounge chairs or cooled themselves in the water. Most wore thong bikinis and some had elected to go topless.

Minutes later, they took a seat in a gazebo and drinks were offered. Both Jack and Laura chose a Chilean Riesling, while Damien settled for a beer. Ramirez also chose the Riesling.

Conversation was light until after the waiter poured the wine and placed an Aguila beer in front of Damien. As soon as he had left, Ramirez looked at Damien and said, “So, amigo, you have brought ... your friends with you on this trip?”

“They’re acquainted with the business,” replied Damien. “Jack here is good with numbers.”

“Numbers?” asked Ramirez.

“I am like a gardener,” said Jack. “I know how to make them grow ... safely.”

Ramirez laughed, then raised his glass to salute Jack. As he took a sip, he paused to look at Laura and asked, “And you, my beautiful lady. Why is it that you are here?”

“Oh, I’m just here to help murder you,” said Laura.

Ramirez’s eyes widened and he spit wine from his mouth while signalling to a nearby guard who quickly dropped his weapon from his shoulder.

“Christ!” said Damien.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” said Laura, looking at Ramirez. “I take it that Damien has not explained that part to you?”

Ramirez gestured for his guard to wait while Damien quickly explained the situation. When he was finished, Ramirez looked at the three of them and said, “So ... this worthless dog, Carlos, he has hired a beautiful woman to lure me away to be murdered.”

Jack studied Ramirez’s face as he spoke. His words were calm, sounding matter-of-fact. His face revealed his true feelings. Despite his dark skin, there was a noticeable redness, and the tendons in his neck protruded slightly more than usual. He was clearly angered.

“We’ve rented a place nearby,” said Jack, “called Maria’s Cabinas. We thought we would tell Carlos that Laura had lured you there.”

“This does not seem right to me,” said Ramirez, while scratching his chin and frowning. He looked at Damien and said, “I have heard that after we last met you went to Carlos to do business. Is that correct?”

“That’s correct,” replied Damien. “His prices were a little better than yours.”

“So why do you not still do business with him? Why come to me?”

“When he saw Laura, I think it gave him an idea. Obviously this was something he intended to do but had not yet figured out how, until now.”

“You have not answered what I asked! Why do you not work for him?”

“His price was cheaper ... but my instincts say not to trust him. He only thinks of himself. He wants to have Laura in the room with you when he and his men decide to attack. He wants her to stand in the window and give a signal. When I mentioned I was concerned for her safety, he threatened me.” Damien then clenched his fist on the table and added, “I will not be threatened ... by anyone!”

Ramirez appeared unimpressed and said, “But Carlos would know that I would not travel to such a ... rendezvous ... without protection,” said Ramirez.

“He thought if you believed that Laura was my woman,” said Damien, “so as to be discreet, you would not surround yourself with bodyguards.”

Ramirez did not respond and looked perplexed.

“You do not think that I would be worthy of such a rendezvous?” asked Laura mischievously.

Ramirez blushed, then chuckled and said, “For such a beautiful lady as you,” he said, “I would meet you in Carlos’s own bedroom.” Ramirez paused and added, “After he was dead, of course!”

Everyone laughed. Ramirez then excused himself from the table for a few minutes. When he returned, he asked, “Whose idea was it to rent a place in Cali — Maria’s Cabinas?”

“Mine,” said Jack. “I thought it would be convenient for you. I have not told Carlos about it yet.”

“So it is you who talks with Carlos?” asked Ramirez.

“Carlos wanted you to think you were having an affair behind Damien’s back. As it would appear that the situation does not involve me, it would be easier for me to converse with Carlos.”

“I do not think that he would dare try to do this so close to where I live. If he made a mistake ... the road back to Buga would become very long. I will pick another location. Palmira would be good. He will feel safer there.”

“Palmira?” asked Laura. “Where is it?”

“Cali, Buga, and Palmira ... think of it as a triangle on the map,” said Ramirez. “Buga is to the north and Palmira is to the northeast. All three cities join each other and are all less than an hour away. Buga belongs — no, used to belong — to Carlos. I enjoy the business in Cali. Palmira will be a good spot. He will not be so suspicious there.”

“I spoke to Carlos this morning,” said Jack. “I told him that tonight was the only opportunity. I was afraid that if we stalled, he might choose some other means. He is expecting me to call and let him know.”

Ramirez nodded and said, “The sooner we take care of this problem, the better it will be. Allow me a couple of hours to make some arrangements, then you can call Carlos.”

“I would prefer to call him from our hotel,” said Jack. “I could appear to be more open with him then. Perhaps you could phone me later and give me a location to tell Carlos?”

“The three of you will be my guests for dinner tonight. Seven o’clock. You will phone him after that. It will give me time to make preparations.”

Jack knew that the dinner invitation, like the call he was to make, was an order and not a request. He nodded in agreement and said, “Perhaps I will tell Carlos that you are having a party tonight. I’ll tell him that Damien is drunk or has passed out. Laura will say she has a headache and ask you to escort her home. He will understand.”

Ramirez smiled and said, “Very good, my new friend. Very good.”

For the next half-hour, the conversation around the table was light. Ramirez bragged about the abilities of his chef and the various paintings and statues he had acquired. Jack saw that his eyes frequently glanced in Laura’s direction and knew that something was on his mind. Soon it was revealed.

“Have you dyed your hair?” asked Ramirez abruptly, looking at Laura. “It is not real?” he added, sounding disappointed.

“My natural hair just has red highlights. I did dye it, just on the pretense of enticing you.”

“Ah,” said Ramirez. “That is most unfortunate. Highlights, as you say, is how I do prefer it. That is a secret that my enemies do not know. Perhaps, for me, that is a good thing. Come, I will walk you all to your car.”

They walked to the front of the mansion and were just approaching their car when Ramirez said, “Jack, walk with me for a moment.”

Jack, Damien, and Laura all raised their eyebrows at one another, then Jack did as instructed. Ramirez walked with Jack until he was just out of earshot and then said, “Laura. She does not really belong to Damien, does she?”

“No, she doesn’t,” replied Jack.

“I see her look at you sometimes ... like perhaps you are her boss? She does not look at you like a lover. Am I correct?”

Jack felt uncomfortable. Ramirez was more observant than he had expected. He also did not want to put Laura into a position where it would appear that she was for sale. He replied, “She looks to me because she values my opinion. But you are right. She belongs to no man, although there have been men who have belonged to her.”

Ramirez chuckled, then said, “Perfecto!” He smiled as he walked with Jack back toward the car.

As they neared the car, Jack noticed a security guard answer his portable radio. Seconds later, he barked an order in Spanish. Another guard quickly levelled his M16 at Damien, who was leaning against the driver’s door of their rental car. A second guard pointed his weapon at Laura, who was standing a short distance away where she had been watching a gardener prune some rose bushes. Jack heard a noise behind him and knew that a third guard was covering him.

Ramirez looked startled and the guard spoke to him rapidly in Spanish. The word policia was used as the guard gave a sweep of his arm to indicate the three guests.

The eyebrows furrowed on Ramirez’s face and his dark eyes looked like black marbles. He looked at his three guests and said, “A man has climbed a tree just outside the fence to our property. He is watching with binoculars. My guards believe it is a policeman! You have come to try and trap me! Yes?”

Damien’s hands were behind his back and he slowly used his fingers to feel for the door handle. My only chance ... keys are in the ignition ... if I can get it started ... keep my head down and crash the gate. Maybe the Mounties will try to run and distract them...

Laura glanced around. No place to run ... gardening shears in this guy’s hand ... won’t stop an M16 ... oh, man! Elvis, I’m sorry.

“A policeman!” Jack exclaimed, then let out a chuckle that he hoped sounded genuine. “This is great news!” He then whispered to Ramirez, while conscious of the end of a gun barrel nuzzling his back.

Ramirez looked up, then said, “Of course!” He barked out a command and the guards quickly shouldered their weapons. He smiled and walked over to the gardener. A moment later, he bowed slightly as he handed Laura a freshly cut rose.

Damien was the first to speak as he drove Jack and Laura through the gate and out onto the street. “What the fuck just happened?”

“I said it was obviously someone who worked for Carlos. I suggested he show some affection toward Laura, so Carlos would think his plan was working.”

“We can thank Jean-Louie for almost getting us killed,” said Laura angrily. “I thought he said he was going to keep the troops far back!”

Jack expected Damien to voice his anger as well, but he remained strangely silent. Perhaps just thankful to be alive ... at least, for now.

chapter thirty-seven

Jean-Louie breathed a sigh of relief when Jack, Laura, and Damien drove out the gate from Ramirez’s driveway. Seconds later he knew his worries were not over. Two motorcycles, each containing two men, departed as well. They were followed by four SUVs that were all packed with men. It was soon apparent that Ramirez had ordered his three guests to be followed.

Jean-Louie quickly conferred with his Colombian counterpart. Being naturally suspicious is one thing, but this many men? What the hell happened in there? Yet, if Ramirez wanted to kill them, he would have already done so.

Jack saw one of the narcs in a car that was driving past them. The narc made eye contact with him and slowly gestured with his head to look behind them. Jack nodded that he understood and the narc disappeared in the traffic ahead.

“We’ve got a tail,” said Jack.

“Damn it,” replied Damien. “With all these strange streets and traffic, I’ve been too busy to notice.”

“Think we should lose them?” asked Laura.

“No,” replied Jack. “Ramirez is paranoid enough. Drive easy back to the hotel. When it’s clear, we’ll slip up the stairs and thank the narcs and Jean-Louie for heating us up. Also want to kick whoever was up that tree in the balls.”

Jean-Louie was adamant. None of his people had climbed a tree or even left their vehicles. He slammed his fist on the coffee table and said, “We know that Ramirez’s grounds are infested with guards! Only a fool would do such a thing!”

“Perhaps the fools were us,” suggested Laura.

“What do you mean?” asked Jack.

“Perhaps Ramirez made up the whole story, just to see our response.”

“He is cunning,” said Jean-Louie. “That is one scenario I hadn’t considered.”

Or perhaps a different police unit, thought Jack. He looked intently at Jean-Louie’s face and then asked, “Are there any other police units that could have been watching us?”

Jean-Louie stared briefly at Jack, then replied, “No operational units that ... were in the vicinity of Ramirez’s estate without our knowledge. I am positive that the tree climber, if he actually existed, was not a policeman.”

Jack and Jean-Louie briefly stared at each other. Now, without actually saying it, they each knew there was another police unit involved, but apparently not at Ramirez’s place.

“I would suggest that you use extreme caution,” said Jean-Louie.

Jack nodded, then said, “Thank you. I will.”

“At first I was more concerned when so many men and vehicles appeared to be following you,” said Jean-Louie. “I was relieved when I learned that three of the SUVs headed northeast out of the city. The other SUV was last seen heading north. Right now there are only two motorcycles, each with two men who are hanging around the hotel here.”

“Not totally unexpected,” said Jack. “We’ll do the tourist thing this afternoon. Buy Laura a new pair of shoes from his store. Maybe even lounge around the pool. Wouldn’t hurt to try and catch a few winks. I suspect this party we’re going to might last all night.”

“I don’t like the idea of the three of you going back in,” replied Jean-Louie.

Jack shrugged and said, “We certainly felt welcome this afternoon, although it was a little uncomfortable when he said someone was watching. Partying with him will make him trust us more.”

“Besides,” said Laura, “I expect lots of people will be coming and going from the party. It wouldn’t be the time for him to try anything serious, even if he was suspicious.”

“If he wasn’t suspicious,” said Jean-Louie, “he wouldn’t have four goons outside watching.”

Jack, Laura, and Damien arrived promptly at seven o’clock. Jack and Damien each wore slacks and a golf shirt. Laura wore an emerald green silk blouse and a white skirt. Her new high-heeled shoes were also an emerald green.

A servant nodded politely and gestured for them to follow. Ramirez was at a desk in his study. He was not unfriendly, but his demeanour had changed considerably since the afternoon. As they entered, he complimented Laura on her choice of shoes — and on which store she had purchased them in.

“You were watching me?” asked Laura, portraying anger.

“Do not be offended,” Ramirez replied. “Cali can be a dangerous city. I have many bodyguards. It was no inconvenience to ensure that no danger came to you. As you are my guests, I feel it is my responsibility.”

Jack studied Ramirez’s face as he spoke. Subtle intimidation or a need for absolute control? Likely both.

Ramirez dismissed any further comments from Laura simply by turning to Jack and saying, “You will call Carlos now.”

“Now?” asked Jack.

“Yes. Here, with me. You will say that I will be with Laura in Palmira tonight. Tell him that you will meet him in front of the church at the main plaza in Palmira at eleven o’clock. Say you are in my house and do not have time to talk now, so he cannot ask many questions.”

“There is no need for me to meet him,” said Jack, feeling a rush of acid to his stomach. “I can simply phone him.”

“No,” said Ramirez. “You will meet him. He will be less suspicious then. Many of my men are already in place.”

Jack and Laura exchanged a look. Each thought the same thing. A simple plan has just become complicated and dangerous.

“In front of a church in a plaza,” said Jack. “It does not sound like a good place. Lots of people could get hurt or he might escape.”

Ramirez smiled and shook his head. “We will not kill him there. His car, a Mercedes, it is bulletproof and heavily protected. Personally, I prefer my Land Rover. It also has such protection but is more suited for the roads in Colombia.”

“Where do you intend to do this?” asked Jack, feeling irritated that Ramirez could be so casual about planning a murder.

“You will take him to a villa on the edge of the city. It is a good spot. The driveway to the villa goes over a small bridge. When he enters the villa, I will have a truck block the bridge. More men will be inside the villa and also in a shed outside. He will not escape once he is over the bridge.”

“I think I should come to Palmira as well,” said Laura.

“Definitely. I intend for you to come,” said Ramirez. “You will leave your car here and all three of you will come with me,” he added, while getting up and walking around his desk to face Jack. “Call Carlos now!” he ordered.

Ramirez watched closely as Jack dialled, and then he placed his head close to the phone so he could listen. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Laura move closer to the desk, her hand within grabbing distance of a thin knife used as a letter opener.

“Carlos! This is Jack.”

“What news do you have for me?” demanded Carlos. “Tell me where the pig is!”

“I am a short distance from him now,” said Jack, looking at Ramirez, whose face indicated a rise in blood pressure. “I do not have time to talk. He will be with the lady in Palmira tonight. I do not have the address now. I will meet you at eleven o’clock in front of the church at the main plaza in Palmira and show you where he is.”

Carlos let out a tirade in Spanish that Jack did not understand. He felt his muscles contract as the rage showed on Ramirez’s face.

Carlos then said, “Si, amigo, we will meet in Palmira!”

Ramirez stepped back when the call ended. His face was contorted in anger and he reverted back to his Spanish tongue as he let loose with a barrage of obscenities while looking at Jack.

Laura turned her back to the desk but put her hands behind her and picked up the letter opener. Two bodyguards in the room ... if I can take out Ramirez while Jack and Damien jump the other two ... oh man!

Ramirez then spun toward Laura and said, “I am sorry, Laura. For what I have said. I hope you do not know such Spanish words.”

Laura smiled sweetly and said, “I’m ashamed to admit that I haven’t learned Spanish.”

“That is okay. I am ashamed of the words I just spoke,” replied Ramirez. “It is unbelievable what he said he will do to me with ... a stick.” Ramirez paused momentarily, then said, “Very barbaric. I do not understand such rage. I thought he and I had an agreement. He is a lunatic.”

“He really is,” said Damien in agreement.

Ramirez looked at Laura and said, “Do you know that he always wears a little green tam? He pretends he is a soldier. He is not. He is just a lunatic.”

Laura let out a deep breath. She then thought of Rellik with his stringy red hair and chipped front tooth. How could Ramirez understand such rage? Perhaps if he had a brother and knew Rellik, he would understand. Carlos isn’t the only lunatic who should be put down!

Laura gently laid the letter opener on the table and stepped away when Ramirez said that they would have dinner now.

On their way to the table, Laura whispered to Jack, “Think maybe you should call Jean-Louie? Have them pull us over when we leave? Ramirez isn’t going to let us take our car but if we let Jean-Louie know, then...”

“Not a chance. We’re this close to Carlos. I’m not going to let him slip through my fingers now. You stay close to Ramirez. He’ll be protected. He’s not the type to risk his neck.”

“Yeah, he’s really different than you. Probably smarter.”

Jack chose not to respond.

The dinner, consisting of a main course of garlic buttered prawns and wild rice with mushrooms, would normally have tasted succulent. Neither Jack nor Laura felt like eating. The anticipation of tonight’s activity did not seem to affect Damien, who was pleased to accept a second helping.

“Tell me, Jack,” said Ramirez, “Damien said that you are not with his club, but that he has hired you for your knowledge of money.”

Jack nodded.

“What would you propose that I do as an investment strategy for your country?”

Jack took his time to chew and then swallow a prawn before replying, “I would presume that a man of your calibre would already own a bank someplace — perhaps in the Grand Caymans?”

Ramirez smiled and said, “Perhaps more than one.”

“Your official business is inspired by leather. Shoes, jackets ... correct?”

“Yes,” Ramirez replied, then looked at Damien and said, “Officially, of course!” then laughed.

“Then,” said Jack, “I would propose you open a chain of such stores in Canada. You could get a tax break by borrowing money from your own banks while paying yourself interest. Naturally, the paper trail would be hidden through different companies so that the government would not know you owned the banks. On paper, it would appear normal that you would send large amounts of money back to the banks as well as to shoe or leather distribution companies in Colombia.”

“Your government would give me a tax break?” exclaimed Ramirez.

“If you have to borrow money to invest in a company in Canada, it is expected that you would deduct such an expense from your cost of doing business. On paper, you would say that you are selling a large volume of expensive leather goods. You would only send a few high-quality and expensive items for show. The rest would be of a very low quality. Practically worthless. Once these cleared customs, the poor-quality merchandise could be destroyed. As long as large amounts are being imported, it would appear that they are being sold and money is being sent back to order more and pay for loans.”

Ramirez beamed, then looked at Damien and said, “You have picked your people well.” He then glanced at Laura and added, “Very well.” He raised a glass of Pinot Blanc. Everyone followed suit and gave a silent toast.

“Perhaps,” said Ramirez to Damien, “some of the shipping containers of shoes might contain a much more expensive product.”

“That,” said Damien, “would depend upon how expensive it is for me!”

Ramirez smiled and replied, “We will talk after dinner.”

At eight-thirty, a man arrived and stood quietly in the doorway. Eventually, Ramirez excused himself from the table to talk with him.

When Ramirez returned, he smiled as he sat down. “I have just been informed,” he said, “that Carlos’s Mercedes, three vans, and two SUVs have left Buga on the road to Palmira. It is estimated that he has thirty men with him.” Ramirez paused to sip his wine and then said, “So many men. Carlos is a coward, is he not?” He added, “Does he think that I am Superman?” and laughed.

Jack, Laura, and Damien also laughed politely.

“Now,” said Ramirez, “we have one hour before we should leave. I recommend the dessert tonight. Grilled banana with a rum glaze topped with ice cream.”

“Sounds good,” said Damien.

“Ah, my friend,” said Ramirez, looking at Damien, “after tonight I will give you the best price I have given anyone.”

“That sounds good, too,” said Damien. “After dessert, let’s discuss it further and I will call my men in Canada to arrange the details.”

Jack glanced at his watch and looked at Laura. What will happen when I meet Carlos? One thing is for sure ... Damien will keep right on going — with me to thank for bargain prices!

chapter thirty-eight

Jean-Louie received the report that Ramirez’s Land Rover, accompanied by three Hummers, was leaving the estate.

“What do ya think?” asked one of the narcs.

Jean-Louie didn’t respond as he dialled Jack’s cell.

“Hey, Jack! How are you, my friend? This is John calling from Canada. I hear you are out of the country someplace?”

“John! Good to hear from you,” replied Jack, relieved that the Land Rover he was in had tinted windows. “I am out of the country. Partying with a friend,” he said, smiling as he glanced at Ramirez. “They really know how to have a good time here. They’re even providing limo service to the guests. How’s it going up there?”

The call was brief, but when Jack hung up, Ramirez looked at him and said, “No more calls ... for any of you.”

Jack glanced at Laura and Damien, who stared ahead in silence. There was no mistaking the icy tone in Ramirez’s voice. The remaining half-hour trip to Palmira was made in silence.

As they approached Palmira, Jack looked around and realized that their small convoy had become well spaced. None of the Hummers were in sight.

Ramirez watched Jack, then smiled and said, “You are observant, my friend. If Carlos has men watching for me to arrive in Palmira, it is better if he thinks I do not have security.”

Ramirez might have been right. At the outskirts to the city an SUV appeared to follow loosely behind them. It only took minutes for Ramirez’s driver to lose him in traffic.

“The dog does not want to alert the chickens too soon,” observed Ramirez, wiping the palms of his hands together in anticipation. He looked at Jack and said, “They will rely on you to tell them where I have gone. We will park my Land Rover at the villa to bait the trap. I have another vehicle there too.”

Ramirez paused to take a call on his cell. When he hung up, he said, “Good! Carlos’s Mercedes and two of his vans have been seen driving near the church.”

Jack realized that he was holding his breath and slowly started to exhale. I almost feel disappointed that he showed up. Great time to think that this isn’t such a good idea!

A short time later, they slowly drove past a row of buildings. Most were homes, with about half of them in darkness. Others had a few lights on, including the occasional porch light.

Some noise and a bustling of activity came from one building in the centre of the block with an Aguila sign above the door. The street had no sidewalks, but a few people could be seen walking along the edges of the road. Just past the bar, the road turned to dirt. The Land Rover slowed and turned onto a single-lane bridge that spanned a creek, marking the entrance to a driveway.

The dirt driveway led up to a modest two-storey building. They parked and Jack walked around the villa. With the exception of a small mango grove behind the home, there were few trees for protection. A short distance away from the side of the villa was a small shed where some of Ramirez’s men waited. It was a perfect place for an ambush.

“What do you think, my friends?” asked Ramirez.

Damien smiled and slapped Ramirez on the back and said, “I like it. You have done well!”

“Good. When it is over, I will have my men pile the bodies like a monument. It will be a symbol for those who cross me!”

Damien smiled and said, “I think your competition will get the message.”

“We will go to the plaza now,” replied Ramirez.

“I would like to stay here,” said Damien. “If one of your men would lend me a gun, I would like to be here when Carlos arrives.”

“But it is not your fight,” said Ramirez, looking puzzled. “It is me he wishes to kill! Besides, it is too dangerous. Carlos will enter the villa, and then my men will switch on the lights when they climb the staircase. There will be much shooting.”

“It was me he insulted,” replied Damien, “when he told me to risk Laura’s life. I consider it a matter of honour to take part in his execution. I hope he sees my face when he dies.”

Ramirez stared intently at Damien but did not respond.

“I could hide out here, under the bridge,” said Damien. “If Carlos tries to run back, then I will be waiting.”

Ramirez relented, shrugging his shoulders and said, “As you wish!”

“Speaking of shooting,” interjected Jack, “should I be forced to go with Carlos into the villa, let your men know that as soon as the lights go on, this gringo will drop to the floor. They’ll have about two seconds of surprise to shoot everyone standing. Make sure they know who I am!”

Ramirez chuckled and said, “Don’t worry. I will tell them not to shoot you!” He then spoke with his men and Jack watched as Damien was handed a snub-nosed, five-shot .38-calibre revolver.

“It is all that is available,” said Ramirez. “It will not penetrate Carlos’s car, but maybe if any of Carlos’s men escape you will find a use for it.”

Jack pondered over Damien’s unexpected decision as he and Laura were driven back to the centre of the city. A true survivor. If things go wrong he has a chance to escape.

Twenty minutes later, Ramirez ordered his driver to park in an alley before turning to Jack and saying, “Walk to the end of the street. You will see the steeple. It is only two blocks away. A couple of my men will be watching.”

Jack nodded.

“Do not worry,” said Ramirez. “If you must go with him inside the villa, my men have been told not to shoot the gringo.”

“If Carlos knows that it is a trap, it will not be necessary for me to worry about your men,” replied Jack.

“By the time that happens, Carlos will be dead. He must trust you, or he wouldn’t have asked you to carry out this mission. I am sure that you will be permitted to remain outside. Perhaps you could wait in the bar down the street.”

Jack nodded silently.

“You seem troubled,” said Ramirez, looking at him closely. “Perhaps there is something I do not know about? Between you and Carlos?”

Jack shook his head and said, “I’m just the cautious type.” He then glanced at Laura and said, “If need be, apologize to Natasha for me, will you?”

Jack saw the Mercedes parked between two vans in front of the church. As he approached, four men surrounded him. Jack recognized two of the men and felt the dampness spread down his shirt. They were the ones he robbed outside of the Spotted Owl Motel. Hope they don’t recognize my voice.

“With me, señor!”

Jack felt the barrel of a gun nudge his kidneys. He tried to smile and nodded politely as he followed. The side door of the van opened and a sharp jab from the barrel told him to step inside.

The search was thorough and did not take long. One of the men took Jack’s cellphone, then he was allowed to dress himself before being hustled out of the van. He was then brought to the Mercedes, where the rear door opened on the passenger side and he was shoved inside.

“I am Carlos,” said the short, squat man sitting beside him. He wore a green beret and a light jacket that was open to expose a pot-belly.

Thoughts of Charlie flashed across Jack’s mind. He thought of Holly and the terror that Danny and Susan were still living with. Wonder if I could grab his throat and squeeze the life out of him.

Carlos’s eyes peered at him from under the beret. Jack knew that his hatred showed, but for a brief moment he didn’t care.

Carlos barked out a command in Spanish and a burly man sitting in the seat in front of him turned to face him, while reaching into his waistband. At the same time, the driver reached into his shoulder holster while staring at Jack through the rear-view mirror.

“You have my money?” snapped Jack, pointing his finger at Carlos.

“You do not talk at me in such manner!” roared Carlos.

Jack stared back. He knew his actions were not professional. I’m supposed to make this guy like me, or at least not appear as a threat. He sat back and looked down in submission.

Carlos appeared to relax and then said, “After Damien is dead, you will be paid.” He gestured to the two men in the front and said, “You tell my men to drive to Damien now! They come back from Canada. They speak English good.”

Jack glanced quickly at the two men and then said, “I will tell you how to find the place when you let me out of the car. I do not have a gun. It would be dangerous for me to go with you.”

“You will tell me now or you will die!”

“If I die, then...”

“Then my men will wait for Damien on the road to the airport,” countered Carlos. “He leaves tomorrow. I can wait.”

Jack looked around him. I feel like I’m in the middle of a movie. It’s all so surreal. I may never see Natasha again ... Carlos might win.

“Talk my men now!” ordered Carlos.

When the small convoy consisting of Carlos’s Mercedes, three vans, and two SUVs drove past the tiny bar with the Aguila sign, Jack pointed to the end of the street and gave directions into the villa.

Carlos immediately ordered the convoy to park down a side street while one SUV left to check out the area around the villa.

Muted light from a nearby home illuminated the men’s faces in the car. Carlos accepted a call on his cell and then looked suspiciously at Jack and said, “There is a Jeep in front of villa. Is that Jeep belong to Damien?”

“I think he borrowed it from whoever he hired to kill you.”

“That Jeep, it look like a Jeep belong to man I were at war with.”

“You’re joking!”

“I am no joking!”

“Maybe tonight is not such a good idea. Is this man dangerous? The one whose Jeep —”

“Enough! I think maybe you know this man!”

“I don’t. I know your reputation. I am not stupid enough to do anything to make you angry!”

Carlos stared at Jack for a moment and then said, “We will wait here until Damien is got by my men.”

“You’re not going in as well?” asked Jack. “I thought ... man to man ... you would wish to avenge your brother!”

“I will revenge when it is safe,” replied Carlos. “There is a small bridge to the villa. I do not think it wise to cross bridge until my men have Damien.”

Jack looked at the two bodyguards in the front seat and noticed four more standing outside near the car. I’m dead!

Carlos continued to stare at Jack and said, “You know that I telled my men to kill you in Canada. Yes?”

Jack saw the distrust in Carlos’s eyes. I’ve got to gain control — and his trust — fast! He smiled and said, “That was simply business. I understand that.”

“That man my men shoot. The news it say his baby cannot walk. What you think?”

“I think ... I’m glad you made a mistake and didn’t shoot me.”

Carlos was determined. “I am told you upset that my men try to drown the policeman’s baby. Yes?”

Jack shrugged and said, “It was expected that I should look upset, so I did.”

Carlos leaned closer. “Tell me. What woman think when she see her baby die in water?”

Jack’s mind flickered back to an undercover operation years earlier when he had purchased child pornography. The operation was successful, but he had found it humiliating and degrading to even pretend to be that kind of person. Now I have to pretend to be worse — to be like this man. He looked at Carlos and laughed, and then said, “I think she squirmed ... just like a baby kitten when you light it on fire!”

The shock was evident on Carlos’s face, and then he sat back and laughed too.

Jack watched him laugh but also saw something else. A glimpse of a holster on the side of his waistband under his jacket.

Carlos then slapped Jack on the shoulder and said, “Yes, amigo. That is what I think too!”

“I would like to see Damien squirm when you catch him,” said Jack. “Just like a kitten!”

“He will, amigo. He will squirm long time.”

“But if your men kill him, we will not see that. It is better if we go with your men.”

Suspicion returned to Carlos’s face. “No! We wait here!”

Jack’s mind raced for a solution. “How will your men catch him?”

“I send everyone to drive fast to the villa. My men call me when safe and we go see.”

“Damien might be killed before you catch him. I know how to catch him alive.”

“Alive? How?”

“Have some of your men sneak up to the back of the villa first. Then have the rest of your men drive up to the front really fast. The more vehicles the better. We could go too but stop at the bridge. Damien will get scared and run out the back door. Bingo!”

“Bingo?”

“You would have him! Your men could jump on him in the dark!”

Carlos thought for a moment, then said, “That is a good plan. I want caught him alive!”

“There is a small problem, but I can fix it.”

“Problema? What problema?”

“Damien sometimes sets a booby trap.”

“What is booby trap?”

“A grenade to go off. It could kill your men and warn Damien.”

“He has a grenade,” said Carlos quite simply. An item that did not surprise him.

“Give me my phone back and I will call the woman who is with him. She will tell me about the trap and she could describe what the villa is like and what room Damien is in.”

“This woman. She think she work for the policia?” asked Carlos.

“Yes. She is an informant. She is who told me about Damien. She hates him. She is expecting me to call. She thinks the police will arrest him tonight.”

“I hate him also,” said Carlos. “But you phone her and maybe Damien hear her speak.”

“I do this often. We talk most nights at this time. Damien thinks it is her father who calls. You can listen as I talk.”

Carlos thought about it for a moment and then said, “Okay. I listen. You make mistake and you squirm like a kitten on fire a long time.”

Jack was thankful that Laura answered.

“Listen closely,” said Jack. “I am outside your villa right now with the top boss. We are going to wait here until after his men raid the villa and catch him.”

Laura felt sick when she heard the words. “You mean he’s not coming in here to —”

“That’s correct,” Jack interjected. “Listen carefully to what I say and please do exactly what I ask.”

“I understand,” replied Laura, wondering if Carlos was listening in to Jack’s conversation like Ramirez was hers.

“From your tone, I know that you are being listened to ... correct?”

“Yes,” replied Laura, shrugging her shoulders and smiling at Ramirez.

“I want a description of the inside of the villa. It is important to know which room the men need to run to. I know you can’t talk right now, but as soon as you can, I want you to get a pad of paper and a pencil and draw a picture of the inside of the house. I am worried about the booby trap near the back door. I presume it has been set?”

Laura paused and then said, “Yes,” hoping it was what Jack wanted to hear.

“When he is getting ready for bed, make an excuse to go outside. Say you’re emptying the garbage. Take the paper and pencil and leave it on the bridge under a little rock. Then get out of there. I will draw a sketch to show the boss the booby trap and then the men will rush the house. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

When Laura hung up, Ramirez looked at her and said, “I don’t understand. Why does Carlos not go to the villa? He has lots of men.”

“That’s the problem,” replied Laura. “He has so many men he doesn’t need to risk his own life. He isn’t going into the villa until after.”

“As long as he crosses the bridge. That is most important. Otherwise my men will have to ram his car with the truck. That might not be so good for Jack.”

“No, that wouldn’t be good,” agreed Laura.

“And his car is strong. He might still escape.”

“I need a pencil and some paper,” said Laura. “Then I’ll cross the creek farther down the road and come up past the villa and leave it on the bridge like Jack asked.”

“I don’t understand,” said Ramirez. “Why did Jack say there was a booby trap?”

“We do not know what is being said between Carlos and Jack. It is best we do this.”

Ramirez shrugged and said, “If you wish. I have a pen and paper in the glove box.”

“Pencil and paper,” replied Laura.

“There is a difference?”

“Yes.”

Damien peeked out from under the bridge and saw an SUV slowly driving toward him. It stopped and two men got out and quickly ran toward the bridge as the SUV sped off.

Damien gripped the pistol tighter and ducked as the men slid down the embankment near the bridge. He watched as they scrambled to hide in some bushes.

Moments later, someone was walking on the bridge above him. He heard the sound of a stone grate on the plank above his head and caught a quick glimpse of Laura’s face in the moonlight as she bent over. She then continued walking across the bridge and out onto the street. Now what the fuck is going on?

Immediately the two men left their hiding spot and went to the top of the bridge. Damien heard them whisper and then heard one place a call on his cell. Seconds later, they both headed down the street. Damien peeked out again and saw one of the men staying in the shadows as he followed Laura down the street. The other man was carrying a pad of paper and stopped to wait a short distance down the street.

Damien saw Laura nervously looking back as the SUV arrived again. The man with the pad of paper quickly climbed in and the SUV drove away. She stepped back and hid in the doorway of a building, oblivious to the other man who was creeping closer.

chapter thirty-nine

Carlos accepted the pencil and pad of paper and quickly scanned the crude drawings. One showed the first level of the villa, with a bathroom, kitchen, and a pantry room at the rear and a dining room and television room at the front. Near the pantry was marked a set of stairs leading to the upper level.

The second drawing showed three bedrooms on the upper floor with one marked with a large X and the drawing of a stick man lying on a bed.

“Your puta, she do good,” said Carlos. “Now, tell me about bobby trap,” he said, shoving the paper and pencil onto Jack’s lap.

Jack quickly sketched two trees that were the closest to the rear door of the villa. He then drew what he said was a fish line tied to one tree leading to a glass hanging in the crook of a branch on the other tree.

“The glass is held in place with a clothes pin,” said Jack. “He puts a grenade with the pin removed inside the glass. Below the glass is a rock. If someone walks into the line...”

“Then the glass falls and the grenade ... it go bang,” said Carlos.

“You’ve got it,” replied Jack. “A simple idea, but effective.”

Carlos rolled down the window and handed the sketches to one of his men. He then gave him some brief instructions before rolling up the window.

The minutes passed and the tension reduced everyone to silence. Carlos finally got the call he had been expecting. When he was finished, he barked some orders at the driver, who flicked a switch. Jack heard the doors lock. Entering the car without permission was virtually impossible. Now, leaving the car would be up to the discretion of the driver.

“My men in place at back,” said Carlos. “No bobby trap.”

Normally Jack might have found Carlos’s grasp of the English language amusing, but this was not the time — and he hated Carlos too much to find anything amusing about him.

From her hiding spot in the doorway, Laura watched as two vans, followed by two SUVs, roared past her down the street toward the small bridge. The Mercedes followed from behind, but the darkness, coupled with the tinted windows on the Mercedes, stopped her from catching a glimpse of Jack’s face as it went by.

The first three vehicles bounced across the small bridge, causing the wooden planks to echo loudly in the night. The fourth vehicle stopped crossways at the entrance to the bridge. Four men leapt out and stood with machine guns at the ready as the Mercedes skidded to a stop in the dirt behind it.

Jack watched as Carlos, sitting beside him, screamed instructions into his phone from the safety of the back seat. The two men in the front of the Mercedes remained in their seat, but the man in front of Jack had turned to face him and made no pretext of hiding the pistol he was pointing at Jack.

Jack tried to control his breathing and relax his muscles as he watched Carlos, waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for when Carlos knew and turned to face him...

Jack looked across the creek and caught a glimpse of a small army of men as they kicked open the front door to the villa and rushed inside. The time will be now ... I love you, Natasha.

Jack smiled at the man facing him from the front seat and gave a nod of his head toward the villa just as the lights went on in the house. The distraction didn’t work. Jack saw the man’s eyes flicker toward the villa, but he remained focused on Carlos’s face, waiting for his boss to give the order.

Instantly, automatic weapons erupted inside the villa as men’s screams echoed their terror. At the same time, men rushed out of the shed beside the villa while their weapons burped fire and death.

Carlos looked at Jack. His eyes burned with hatred and his mouth opened to shout a command.

Jack gripped the pencil. The eraser butted against the palm of his hand while the pencil protruded from between the middle of his fingers.

Carlos reeled back in horror as Jack slammed the point of the pencil upwards through his neck under his jaw. His intent was to penetrate the brain but Carlos twisted his head. Instead, the pencil skewered his esophagus and snapped in half, leaving the jagged end protruding from his throat. He tried to scream but instead his voice became an ugly wheezing sound as his body demanded air.

Jack was barely conscious of the man in the front seat raising his gun toward his head while he grasped Carlos with both hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down on top of him.

Carlos gurgled and tried to push himself upright, but Jack had partially wriggled down between the seats and held on tight. Carlos grabbed at his own throat, trying to remove the pencil.

Jack twisted and turned. For a few brief seconds, he felt fingers trying to pry his arm free from the back of Carlos’s neck while the two men screamed at each other in the front seat.

Laura waited for the sound of gunfire before leaving the shelter of her doorway and running toward the Mercedes. She was thankful that Ramirez had given her a Glock 9mm for protection and reached for it in her purse as she raced forward. She knew it wouldn’t penetrate the car, but if a door opened she might have a chance.

A few scatterings of citizens on the street ran past her, going in the opposite direction to escape the din of terror that unleashed itself at the far end. One man appeared in front of her and she gasped as she recognized his face. The stringy red hair ... chipped front tooth. Her brain tried to react to what she thought was impossible. Rellik raised his hand and she saw the gun pointed at her face — point blank range!

Her training took over as she instinctively crouched and started to raise her own weapon. Over the noise of a multitude of automatic weapons firing and people screaming, her brain heard him yell, “Fuckin’ bitch!” and she saw the muzzle flash from his pistol.

Rellik grinned. Good shot. Right through the centre of the forehead!

Jack hung onto Carlos’s neck with one arm while his other hand reached around Carlos’s waistband. His fingers touched the leather holster and he frantically grabbed for the weapon and felt his fingers wrap around it. Got it! ... Wait ... No! It’s a cellphone! He was just packing a second cellphone!

Jack was conscious of the man in the front seat opening his door. A second later, the door by Jack’s head opened. He tilted his head and looked up just as the man took aim at the top of his skull. In a futile effort, Jack released Carlos and tried to grab at the gun. The man stepped back slightly, and it gave Carlos the opportunity to push himself upright, exposing Jack from the chest up as he lay pinned between the seats.

Jack had heard that you never hear the sound of the shot that takes out your brain. It’s not true. I hear it ... sticky pieces of skull and brain splattering down my chest ... Carlos pushing himself backwards to safety ... blackness...

He heard the sound of a second shot, then stared numbly upwards as the light returned.

“Jesus fuck!” yelled Damien. “Don’t just lie there!” he screamed, while dragging the corpse off Jack’s face with one hand, holding the pistol in his other hand.

Jack wriggled out of the car backwards onto the ground. He saw the driver slumped over in the front seat and the car window awash in blood behind him. In the back seat, Carlos stared at him in terror with the broken pencil protruding from his neck. He took his hand from his throat and made a gesture to reach for the door handle. He knew it was hopeless. He was right.

Damien’s third shot sent another wave of blood over the rear passenger window.

Laura saw the smile on Rellik’s face when he fired. Her ears were ringing as the pistol exploded a round just above her head. She immediately fired two bullets from her own gun into his chest cavity.

Rellik’s mouth gaped open in surprise and he fell backwards. Laura heard the sound of another body fall behind her and she turned to look.

Oh man! He missed me and took out a citizen!

Then she saw the gun in the man’s hand, and the realization of what had happened took over. She looked back at Rellik, then quickly knelt down beside him.

He looked at her and his voice gurgled as he spoke.

“Why’d you fuckin’ shoot me, bitch?”

“I thought you called me a fuckin’ bitch and shot at me!” cried Laura.

“I said Duck, bitch! You ducked and...” Rellik’s body convulsed and spewed blood from his lungs. Seconds later, he died without speaking another word.

Jack, followed by Damien, ran up the street and found Laura counting aloud while pumping a man’s chest with her hands and then pausing to blow air into his lungs.

“This is Rellik!” Jack exclaimed. “What is he doing here?”

“You’re alive!” said Laura, returning to pump on Rellik’s chest.

“Yeah, still above ground,” replied Jack, looking at Damien for an answer.

“Carlos ... you kill ’im?” asked Laura. She glanced at Jack, while still pumping on Rellik’s chest.

“Pencil snapped in his throat. Damien finished him off,” said Jack, while placing two fingers over the carotid artery in Rellik’s neck. “He’s dead, Laura. What the hell are you doing?” He looked at Damien and asked, “What is he doing here?”

“You didn’t really think I would trust the Feds to protect me down here, did you? I had Rellik and two of his crew tag along for protection.”

Laura continued to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation until Jack said, “Laura! Will you cut this out! He’s dead! We will be too if we stay out here in the middle of the street!”

Laura looked dazed as she slowly sat upright before picking the 9mm up from where she had dropped it in the dirt.

“I sent Rellik to protect you,” said Damien. “Didn’t know you had a piece. This other guy, he kill Rellik and then you shoot him?”

Laura shook her head. “I thought Rellik was shooting at me. I didn’t know this other guy was behind me. I ... I didn’t know....” Her voice trailed off and she stared down at Rellik.

“Yeah?” replied Damien. “Well, shit happens. Honest mistake. Rellik wasn’t exactly one of my favourites, anyway. Guess we don’t have to worry about him climbing any more trees.”

“Where are your other two guys?” demanded Jack, looking around.

“They helped me take out the four guys outside of Carlos’s Mercedes. I told them to take off after I waxed Carlos.”

“You shouldn’t have brought them here! Damn it, Damien!”

“Yeah, right. And if they weren’t here, you both would be dead!”

Jack, Laura, and Damien hardly spoke as Ramirez gave them a ride back to his place. Once there, he gave them jogging suits to wear and took their bloodied clothes to be burned.

Ramirez told them that nine men who worked for Carlos managed to escape Palmira in a van. He said they did not arrive back in Buga.

It was almost four o’clock when Jack, Laura, and Damien arrived back at their hotel and hurried to their rooms before Jean-Louie and the narcs could see their jogging suits.

Jack waited a few minutes for Jean-Louie to return, then called his room.

“Went really well,” said Jack. “Some details still have to be worked out, but we can head home now.”

“Long night. Was starting to worry.”

“Partied hearty. Helped gain his trust. Right now we’re all beat. I’m going to grab three hours of shut-eye, then meet you at seven. We want to catch the morning flight back to Vancouver.”

Jack then knocked on Laura’s door. She came out in the hall and quietly closed the door behind her. They gave each other a hug before walking down the hallway.

“Think I could round up a drink if you want one,” Jack said. “It’s just that if you feel like talking, we can’t do it in our rooms.”

Laura shook her head and said, “One drink would-n’t be enough and forty-seven would be too many. Glad you’re here, though.”

“How do you feel?”

Laura didn’t respond.

“You okay?”

“I don’t know. Right now I just feel numb. I just killed a guy for saving my life. How do you think I should feel?”

“Numb. Same as I feel.”

“I should have ordered him to drop it. I just ... I was so freaked out with what was going on ... then to see his face. The guy I figured for the epitome of evil. I double-tapped him without thinking. I should have known that he wouldn’t have missed me at that range. My presumptions got him killed!”

“Rellik didn’t save your life. Damien did. Rellik was just a soldier following orders. The fact that he was ordered to save you doesn’t make him a good guy. He acts without conscience. He could have just as easily been told to torture you. Knowing his personality, he likely would have preferred that.”

“I thought of that, but I still fired without weighing all the evidence. He even told me to duck! I was so convinced about him being evil that I didn’t listen. What if he had been a good guy and I did that?”

“He wasn’t.”

“But me thinking he was...”

“We don’t live in a courtroom. We don’t have the luxury of taking months or years to decide whether or not a decision is right. Out here, it’s survival. You reacted how you should have.”

“It’s the consequence of my prejudgement that is eating at me. It made me react...”

“Consequences! Tell me about it! Everything I’ve done lately brings about a consequence I hadn’t planned on. I guess there are things we have to accept. Things we can’t control. There are always consequences. You shooting Rellik was a consequence of the type of guy he was. In a way, he got himself killed. At least, his lifestyle did. It wasn’t Mother Teresa running toward you!”

They walked for a little while longer, both lost in the silence of their own thoughts. Eventually they returned and stopped outside of Laura’s door.

“Thanks, Jack,” she said. “I’ll be okay. Just need time to sort things out.”

“You sure?”

Laura nodded and said, “You’re a good friend. Goodnight.”

“A good friend?”

Laura smiled and said, “Yeah. This time you’re helping me bury a body ... if only in my mind.” She then hugged Jack. He kissed her on the forehead and returned to his own room.

It was six-thirty in the morning when Jack was summoned to Jean-Louie’s room.

As soon as he entered, Jean-Louie waved a copy of El País in front of him and yelled, “What is this?”

“A newspaper,” replied Jack.

“What it says,” snarled Jean-Louie, holding up the headlines reading CARLOS — MORTE!

“I don’t know,” replied Jack. “Haven’t seen it and I don’t read Spanish.”

“I’ll explain the grisly details,” said Jean-Louie. “Sit down!”

Jack took a seat and listened.

“Norte del Valle,” Jean-Louie started, then paused and said, “Early this morning, on a road outside of Buga, travellers were shocked to discover the bodies of nine men piled in a pyramid on the road.”

“Wow!” said Jack. “People really play it rough down here!”

Jean-Louie stared briefly at Jack, then said, “I’m an old-school operator too, remember? Skip the concerned part and go straight to denial.”

Jack stared ahead, his face frozen.

“I’ll continue,” said Jean-Louie. “This pyramid of bodies was only half the size of another pyramid discovered on the outskirts of Palmira. A naked man was laid face-down at the top of that pyramid. He had a broomstick protruding from his buttocks with a green beret dangling from the end. Later it was discovered that this was the notorious...” Jean-Louie paused to look at Jack and said, “The hell with it! You know who it was!” he said, flinging the newspaper down. He glared at Jack and asked, “Any comment?”

“No.”

“The paper said that in both incidents the police were unable to find anyone who heard or saw anything ... but Ramirez is being linked as someone who has a previous history with Carlos.”

Jack nodded quietly.

“For the record, were you with Ramirez all last night at the party?”

“He left for a little while. We thought he was picking up some more guests.”

“A little while?”

“Might have been longer. Maybe a couple of hours. Everyone was partying and having fun.”

“Good.” Almost believable, Jean-Louie thought. “What are you thinking?” asked Jack.

“I’m thinking the three of you should grab your bags and get the hell out of here!”

chapter forty

It was eleven-thirty at night when the plane touched down on the Vancouver runway. It was an hour later when Jack and Laura cleared Customs. Damien was already gone.

Jack expected to get a taxi, but a familiar voice in the terminal stopped him.

“Hey, cowboy. How ya doing? How’s your new sidekick?” asked Danny as he approached, carrying a shopping bag.

“What are you doing here?” asked Jack.

“Talked to Natasha. Heard you were coming in. Thought I’d like to pick up a friend ... if you still want to call me that.”

Jack looked at him, too surprised and too tired to respond.

“I know I’ve been an ass,” added Danny.

Jack put his suitcase down and embraced Danny. “I always think of you as a friend,” he said. “A good friend.”

“Thanks,” said Danny, stepping back while wiping his eyes. “Your trip ... did it have anything to do with...” He paused a moment and looked nervously around before whispering, “The guys who ... tried to drown Jimmy?”

“Yes,” said Jack.

“How did it go?”

“Total success,” said Laura.

Danny closed his eyes and whispered, “Thank you.”

“We’ll talk about it over a beer,” said Jack. “Just not tonight. We need to get home.”

Danny nodded that he understood but looked glum as they made their way to the parking lot.

“What’s wrong?” asked Jack.

“I should have been there,” he mumbled.

Jack shook his head and said, “No, you should have been with Susan.”

“You really believe that?”

“Beyond any doubt. Laura is my partner, but if you want to come back to Intelligence, we could maybe find another spot for you.”

“Hell, no!” said Danny. “I want to be your friend ... not your partner!” He looked at Laura and added, “You’ve got no idea what working with him is like!”

Laura laughed and said, “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea!”

Danny smiled. “Yeah, if your trip was a total success, then I guess you do.” He passed the shopping bag to Jack and said, “This is for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say,” mumbled Danny. “Beware of geeks bearing gifts.”

Laura unlocked her apartment door and stepped inside. Elvis rushed toward her, but before he could speak, she flipped a penny toward him. He caught it, then looked at it and smiled.

“How?” asked Laura.

Elvis shrugged and said, “Didn’t you ever have any good friends when you were on Drug Section?”

“Yes, I had friends.”

“Now, on Intelligence ... isn’t Jack a friend of yours?”

“Yes, I consider him a good friend. Get on with it,” said Laura quietly.

“Did it ever occur to you that I might have a good friend in the section I work in?”

“Not really. I wouldn’t trust any of them.”

Elvis paused until he saw the grin on Laura’s face. He embraced her and felt her warm kisses on his neck. After a moment he said, “Come on. I’ll unpack your bags while you put your feet up.”

Laura looked at Elvis and said, “Do you know the difference between being a friend and being a good friend?”

“Sure,” replied Elvis. “A friend bails you out of jail. A good friend is sitting beside you saying, ‘Boy! Wasn’t that fun!’”

Laura laughed.

Elvis studied her face carefully and then said, “With Jack ... does that hit it pretty close to the mark?” Before Laura could respond, he said, “Never mind. House rule. We don’t discuss work.”

Their next kiss was more passionate.

Natasha was in the shower but heard Jack yell that he was home. She quickly shut off the water and wrapped a towel around herself. She then saw Jack standing in the doorway. He was wearing a white cowboy hat.

Natasha kissed him warmly on the lips, then stepped back but kept her arms wrapped loosely around his waist.

“Something new for your wardrobe?” she asked, looking at his hat.

“Present from Danny,” he replied.

Natasha smiled and said, “Good. He told me.” She then let the towel fall from her body. “Ride ’em cowboy!”

epilogue

In July 2005, Jean-Louie received three pictures of Damien from the Colombian police. They were found during a search of Carlos’s home and given to Jean-Louie as a matter of courtesy. The pictures were not mentioned in his report to Assistant Commissioner Isaac, which simply stated that continual physical and electronic surveil-lance of the Canadian investigative team did not reveal any irregularities. Further investigation of the Ramirez cartel was not recommended at this time due to unrest in the area and an inability to provide adequate protection.

In August 2005, Satans Wrath held a memorial service on an acreage owned by one of the club members. Rellik’s ashes were dumped inside his motorcycle helmet and buried. His colours were hung with distinction inside the east-end chapter clubhouse. Only a few members of the club were ever aware of how their fallen comrade had died.

In September 2005, a woman discovered a large amount of cash inside a duffle bag on the seat of her car. She turned it over to the police, who, when it went unclaimed, transferred the million dollars in Canadian hundreds to the woman’s bank account. The police told her that part of a torn twenty-dollar bill had also been found in the bag. She retained it as a souvenir.

In December 2005, the B.C. Supreme Court struck down the anti-gang legislation under Section 467.13 of the Criminal Code as being too broad and too vague.

Within hours, strikers manning Satans Wrath clubhouses in B.C. received orders to purchase a total of 114 bottles of champagne. The clubhouse phones were used as a gesture to slap the police in the face. The amount ordered indicated to the police that the club had grown from their original estimation.

While most bikers celebrated the event, Damien remained worried. The decision served to advertise that B.C. was choice territory for organized crime. Competition would be fiercer. He was not upset when the Crown indicated they might appeal the B.C. Supreme Court decision.

In early January 2006, Damien was approached by two members of the Russian mafia and invited to join in a criminal venture. Damien believed there was something much more sinister to the offer, fearing the actual plan, if implemented, would result in thousands of lives being lost. He searched for a solution. Club rules would not allow him to phone the police ... but what if the police came to him?

In mid-January 2006, Laura received a carton delivered to her apartment. It contained ten pairs of expensive shoes and two pairs of knee-high boots. A note from Damien said that it was a gift from Ramirez. The gift had the potential of placing Jack and Laura once more in the sights of the Anti-Corruption Unit. They decided they would meet with Damien to discuss his lack of good judgement.

Anyone wishing to help children such as “Charlie” and others in British Columbia’s Children’s Hospital may do so by making a donation online through www.bcchf.ca or through their toll-free number: 1-888-663-3033.

Others are doing their bit to help society. Please do your bit.

To those who give, thank you.

chapter one

It was ten o’clock at night in Hanoi as Bien stood at the back of the cargo van with his twelve-year-old daughter. The incessant January rain, coupled with a light breeze, made the fifteen-degree Celsius temperature seem colder. Bien had no idea that his dream for the future was about to become a permanent nightmare—or that the rear doors on the van opening in front of him were the gates to hell.

The driver turned in his seat and gave Bien an impatient nod. Bien grimaced and shoved the plastic bag containing Hang’s belongings into the van. Saying goodbye was difficult and it was more than the rain that made his cheeks wet.

Hang was the older of Bien’s two children. When Bien was given the opportunity for both his children to go to America he could hardly believe his good fortune. There was little future for them in Vietnam. He bent over to give Hang another final hug.

A swarm of motor scooters zoomed past like angry, wet hornets and disappeared into the night. Hanoi was like a hive when it came to scooters. Few people could afford cars.

Bien ignored the scooters and forced himself to smile at Hang. She smiled back, but the corners of her mouth twitched, revealing her nervousness. On impulse, she checked the pocket of her new coat again. Yes, the gift was still there. Wrapped in a small piece of tissue paper and tied with a pink ribbon.

The silver necklace with the pearl from Halong Bay had cost Bien the equivalent of sixteen American dollars. An exorbitant amount of money, thought Bien. But the American lady will be grateful.

Bien’s mind turned to Hang’s new coat. She will need it. It can be very cold in the United States. A long blast from the van’s horn interrupted his thoughts and he watched as Hang quickly climbed in to join a handful of young women who sat on the floor of the van. Bien had opted to leave his other daughter, nine-year-old Linh, back at their apartment with her grandmother. It wasn’t simply that he didn’t own a car. He often pedalled with both children on his bicycle. The real reason was he was afraid he might cry. He didn’t want Linh to see him cry. Especially when she was scheduled to leave next.

The children’s mother died of cancer when Linh was six months old. Bien’s own mother lived with them, but time had been hard on both her body and her mind. Hang, despite being only three years older than Linh, had taken on more of a role of a parent than that of a sister.

Bien started to close the doors but Hang looked at him and quickly blurted, “Con thu óng cha thot nhiêu.”

Bien replied, “English now, Hang. You speak English.” He paused and said, “And I love you a lot as well ... but now it is time for you to be strong.”

“I am strong,” she replied, trying to make her face look stern.

Bien hid his smile and said, “I know you are. I will be anxious to talk with you.”

“I telephone in United States,” said Hang. “Six months.”

Bien shook his head and replied, “No. The word is weeks. Say weeks.”

“Yes. Weeeks,” replied Hang. She frowned at her mistake.

“Good. That is good. You call. Linh and I will be waiting.

You be sure it is good before I send Linh.”

“Con có the hy sinh tât ca vì cha.”

“English ... please.”

Hang sighed and said, “I will do ...” she hesitated, searching for the word she was looking for, “whatever ... you ask.”

Bien smiled and said, “Good. Very good. I know you will do whatever I ask. I ask that you do whatever for Linh, too.”

Hang nodded seriously as Bien closed the doors.

Minutes later, Bien held his bicycle and stood silently in the rain staring at the empty street. His heart and stomach felt like they were being wrenched from his body. The image of Hang waving at him through the back window of the van would forever be etched in his memory.

Bien climbed on his bicycle and pedalled toward his apartment. He brooded about his last-minute decision not to send Linh to America on the same boat as Hang. People were angry with him, but eventually he was told that the American family understood.

The American family had lost two daughters in an unfortunate accident. The Americans wanted to fill the emptiness they felt and were willing to take his daughters into their home. They would pay for them to go to school in America.

Perhaps, some day, Bien would be allowed to go to America, too. For now, they agreed that Hang would travel first. Another boat was scheduled to leave when it was known that the first boat arrived safely.

Not that there was any real danger, Bien had been told. The passengers would be smuggled into the United States from Canada. Even if the authorities caught them, the worse that would happen is that they would be returned to Vietnam.

If that happened, Bien knew, he would face some criticism from his own government. The opportunity for a prosperous and happy future for his children was well worth that risk. He was told that if all went well, eventually the right people in America would be paid and both his daughters would become American citizens.

Bien heard that there were many other passengers being smuggled. All young women who were being given jobs in the hotel industry. They would have to work to pay for the cost of being brought to America. That would not take long. There was a tremendous amount of money to be made. They would have no problem paying off their debt, even while sending money home to their families.

Bien knew that for many of the young women, their fate would no be so. He had heard rumours that some of the young women lacked morals and became greedy, opting instead to make more money by selling their bodies. Some sent money home to Vietnam for their parents, who became rich, but when asked about their daughters, the shame was evident. They said their daughters worked in hotels or restaurants, but few believed it. Maids in hotels were not paid that much.

Bien had talked at length about this to both his daughters. He had also spoken to the smugglers. If there was even a suggestion that they engage in any impropriety, he would go to the authorities. He was assured otherwise. This family was decent, heartbroken over the loss of their own daughters. He was told that he was foolish to worry. Still, these were his daughters. What father would not worry?

Bien’s daughters were fortunate. They would not have to work at all to pay for their voyage. His was a special situation. Bien’s contact had taken a picture of Hang and Linh standing in front of the One Pillar Pagoda close to where Bien worked. The picture was sent to America and Bien heard that the family instantly loved his daughters. He was told that if his daughters were truly unhappy, then the American family would pay to return them to Vietnam.

Bien thought about the Westerners’ use of the word love. He decided that it was a word they used as if they were saying hello. From Westerners, it sounded about as genuine as the fake Rolexes sold at the market. The Vietnamese expressed love more often through action, by doing something nice for the person. It had more meaning.

It was the same with Western names, Bien mused. They never stood for anything. His own name, Bien, meant ocean. Western names did not usually have meaning. Bien was told the name of the American family was Pops and it meant friendly father. Believing the name to be real, he felt reassured. Had he known it was a nickname with a secretive, twisted, and perverse meaning, he would have been aghast.

Bien reflected upon the picture of his two daughters. His contact had graciously provided him with a black and white photocopy. In the picture, Hang held Linh’s hand. Not that she was afraid Linh would run out into traffic. She knew better. She held Linh’s hand because she loved her. Their spirits entwined like one. Anyone looking at the picture could see their true beauty. Perhaps the American family were sincere when they said they loved my children? It would be impossible not to ....

Bien had not always lived in Hanoi. As a child, he was raised in the South. Saigon. Bien still preferred the city by its old name, but while working in Hanoi, he was careful to refer to it as Ho Chi Minh City.

Bien’s father had served with the South Vietnamese army and fought alongside the Americans until the Communists achieved victory in 1975. His father had learned English and taught it to Bien, who in turn, taught it to both his daughters. After the war, Bien’s father was placed in a re-education camp, where he died thirteen years later. Bien scoffed at the term reeducation. It was a camp of forced labour and brutality.

Bien’s wife, formerly from Dong Ha, had been exposed to heavy concentrations of Agent Orange during the war. Their daughter, Hang, like many second generation children, was born with an abnormality. She had an extra thumb protruding off the thumb of one hand. This was only a minor imperfection, Bien decided, when so many other families had children who were born without feet or arms.

Hang’s extra thumb was not something that had been hidden from the American family. Bien was told that Pops would have an American doctor fix it, but only if Hang wished. Bien knew that Hang would wish it to be so. She wanted to be perfect. She does not understand that she already is.

Linh was born without any abnormalities. Something that was cause for extreme joy. A sign that the future would improve, thought Bien. He had received a teaching degree just days after Linh was born. He felt like their lives were complete and that their future would be good. But it was not good.

Bien’s wife died six months later of organ failure brought on by the dioxin in her body. The closest Bien ever came to being a teacher was doing janitorial work at a school. The Communist party was only too aware of his family’s sympathy to the South during the war. He would not be allowed to teach.

It was not until recently that the government recognized the benefit of tourism and knew that Bien’s ability to speak English could be an asset. He was sent to Hanoi to act as a tour guide at Uncle Ho’s Mausoleum.

Bien lived in a one-room apartment facing an alley that he shared with his daughters and his own mother. His kitchen, like others in his neighbourhood, was a small plastic table and chairs set out on the sidewalk at the front of the building. The rest of his kitchen consisted of a hot plate set up on wooden boxes in the alley. The boxes were on their sides and a piece of cloth wired to the boxes acted as a curtain to keep the dust off the dishes. All this was enclosed with a wrought-iron grate bolted to the alley wall, which protruded just over an arm’s length away from the boxes. Entry was through a padlocked door.

For the first few months, he was paid barely enough to buy rice and noodles. Later, he learned to become a little shrewder about accepting tips from the tourists. Soon he would be able to afford a bigger apartment. One that would give his mother her own room to snore in.

It was midnight when Bien pedalled back through the Ba Dinh district of Hanoi and quietly carried his bicycle into his apartment. Tomorrow he would face questions. He did not like the fact that he had to deal with smugglers. Lying to friends about where his daughter went made him feel guilty—but he understood the need for secrecy.

Hang sat quietly on the floor as the van continued through the streets of Hanoi, occasionally stopping to pick up more women. Hang figured they were all about six or seven years older than her. She caught the friendly smile of a younger woman who had been in the van when Hang got in. Hang forced a quick smile back before turning away—directing her attention to the floor of the van. She remembered her vow to stay strong and did not want anyone to see the tears on her face.

“Em tê;n là gì?” the young woman asked her.

“Hang,” she answered, continuing to stare at the floor.

“You ... talk ... English,” she noted, slowly enunciating the words of this foreign language.

“A little,” replied Hang.

She smiled again. “Yes, me talk a ... small ... English,” she said, holding her thumb and finger close together to emphasize her point. “My name Ngoc Bích. You, me, we teach English each other, okay?”

“Okay,” replied Hang, looking down at the van floor.

“You cold?” asked Ngoc Bích.

Hang shook her head.

“Very cold in America. I think you cold now,” said Ngoc Bích, while changing positions and sitting beside Hang. “You be okay,” said Ngoc Bích. “Okay to be afraid,” she added, while putting her arm around Hang’s shoulders.

“I’m not afraid,” said Hang, glancing up defiantly at the other women in the van.

Ngoc Bích caught Hang’s expression and said, “That okay. They no speak English. They no understand what me say with you. I see you cry. I am sorry with you.”

Hang paused for a moment, and said, “I’m not afraid. I only miss my family.”

“My family live in Nha Trang,” said Ngoc Bích, pulling Hang closer. “My father dies two years before. I cries. The day last, my mother say goodbye to me in Nha Trang. I am oldest five kids. Two brothers. Two sisters,” she said, holding up two fingers on each hand. “It is good I send money from America—but yesterday I cry the same as you. You father and mother many kids?”

“One sister. No mother,” replied Hang.

Ngoc Bích paused briefly and said, “It okay to cry.”

Hang solemnly studied Ngoc Bích’s face but did not respond.

“I cry for my brothers and sisters today. You want, you ... me ... be sister now,” added Ngoc Bích.

Hang reflected upon this briefly, before nodding. They each smiled and hugged each other.

Eventually the van came to a stop and everyone got out. The driver warned them to be quiet and to follow him. Hang slung her bag of belongings over her shoulder and, along with everyone else, obediently followed. They entered an apartment building, trudged up four flights of stairs, were led to a room halfway down the hall, and ushered inside.

Hang and Ngoc Bích quietly sat on the apartment floor with a dozen others. The driver left but two other Vietnamese men remained in the room. The men told everyone to sit quietly and not to speak.

Later, there were more soft knocks on the apartment door as several more groups of young women arrived. Hang counted thirty-five women but lost count when the room became too crowded.

An hour passed, and the silence in the room made Hang more conscious of the humidity and the sticky feeling from the heat generated by their cramped quarters. Eventually there was another knock at the door.

Another Vietnamese man entered the room, followed by two other men who were both foreigners and appeared to be about fifty years old. One foreigner was lean and tall, with a thin, grey moustache that matched the colour of his brush cut. His face was pointed with sharp cheek bones and large dark eyes peered out from a nose that reminded Hang of a beak on a bird. Like a long-billed vulture ... She heard the Vietnamese man call him Petya.

The other foreigner took off his jacket and Hang saw that he was wearing a golf shirt and slacks. His head was shaved bald and he had a large pot belly ... but it was his arms that caught Hang’s attention. She had never seen arms covered in so much thick, black hair. More black hair unleashed itself from the open neck on his golf shirt. It made Hang think of a bald ape and she quickly looked away so as not to be seen as being rude.

The two foreigners spoke to each other in a language that Hang did not understand. After, the bald ape turned to the Vietnamese man.

“Tell them all to stand,” said the bald ape, speaking English.

“Yes, Styopa,” replied the Vietnamese man. He then gave the command in Vietnamese and everyone got to their feet.

For Hang, the names Petya and Styopa were too foreign to pronounce. She would just think of them as the vulture and the bald ape.

The vulture and the bald ape approached each woman and pointed for them to stand on one side of the room or the other. As this happened, the Vietnamese man wrote everyone’s names down on two lists.

It is the Vietnamese custom not to look into a person’s face. To do so could imply a lack of respect. In this case, Hang sensed it was an uncomfortable shame the women felt as they stared down at the floor, wondering what the selection was all about. When the men reached Hang, the bald ape lifted her chin to face him, but she continued to avert her eyes.

“You are the young one,” he said. “You speak English?” he asked.

Hang nodded, but the man still gripped her chin, making nodding difficult.

“Let me hear you talk,” he commanded.

Hang swallowed and said, “Yes, I speak English. My father taught me.”

“Good. And you are going to the States to live with an American family, correct?”

“Yes, to live in the house of Mister Pops.”

“Mister Pops!” The bald ape glanced at the vulture and they both chuckled before turning back to Hang. “Your English is good,” he said, releasing her chin. “Your sister was supposed to come. Why didn’t she?”

“My father wanted me to go first. To make sure it would be good for my sister.”

“That is very prudent,” said the vulture. “Your father is a wise man, but you will see that you are very happy there.”

The bald ape grabbed Hang’s hand and held it up to show the vulture her extra thumb. Hang felt her face flush with embarrassment. The vulture spoke harshly to the bald ape in his own language and the ape dropped her hand. Hang felt his eyes upon her for a moment before they moved on.

When the men finished dividing the women into two groups, the bald ape walked back to one young woman and poked her in the ribs with his finger and turned to his Vietnamese colleague and said, “This one is too fat. Nobody will want her.”

The Vietnamese colleague said, “She is fat now, but she will be much thinner in six weeks when she arrives.”

The bald ape blurted out a laugh.

Hang had been warned that the voyage on the ship would be cramped, with little time on deck. It would be a tough journey, but one they were told they would forget completely once they arrived in America. Still, his cruel laugh—he is like the rats who live in the sewer. The sewer I must cross to America.

She risked glancing at the vulture. His face was cold, without expression. A slit under his beak cracked open and he said, “They are all okay. Get them to the ship.”

Moments later, Hang found herself crammed into the back of a large cube van. There was standing room only and she was glad that Ngoc Bích had remained by her side.

It was three hours later when they hurried up a wooden gangplank in the dark to the deck of a ship. The women were told to remain in the two groups they had been divided in. Each group was directed to a separate cargo hold.

They were told to climb down a ladder leading below deck and a man stood at the top of each ladder to help. Hang stooped to get on the ladder and felt the man grab the cheek of her buttock and squeeze tight while emitting a laugh.

Hang gasped but before she could respond, Ngoc Bích slapped the man hard across his face. He released his grip immediately and pulled back a fist to punch Ngoc Bích in the face. At the same time, another man’s voice uttered a command from the darkness for them to be quiet.

The man who had grabbed Hang scowled and lowered his fist. He grabbed Hang by the arm and made her go with the second group of women. She quickly made her way down the ladder into the cargo hold and, along with the others, stood waiting for further instructions.

An hour passed and, following the shouts and commands from above, the diesel engines coughed and rumbled to life, causing the ship to shake before it slipped away from its moorage.

A crew member eventually came down the ladder and told them the cargo space they were in was their home for the next six weeks. He pointed to a plastic pail that they could use for a toilet and pieces of cardboard on the floor for them to lie on. Nobody would be allowed up on deck for two weeks, after which they may be allowed up on deck at night only. The passengers looked at each other in shock as the crew member climbed back up the ladder and closed the cargo doors behind him.

Three of the young women started crying. Hang stared at them blankly for a moment before picking up a piece of cardboard and selecting a spot near the hull of the ship to lay it down. She was cold, even with her new coat, and brought her knees up close to her chest. She lay with her back to the hull, but felt the vibration of the ship’s engines and readjusted the cardboard.

When she was settled once more, she stared at a black cord with a yellow light bulb that hung from above, swinging with the movement of the ship. The dim light did not hide the fear she saw in some of the faces around her. She wished Ngoc Bích had not slapped the crew member. She felt exhausted. Maybe later they would be allowed to be together ...

Hang suddenly awakened to the sound of someone vomiting beside her. She felt nauseous, too, and moaned, grabbing her head as a piercing pain reduced her vision to flashes of light. The smell of diesel was overwhelming and water had leaked in, turning much of the cardboard mattresses into soggy masses.

The woman who vomited faced a string of obscenities from another neighbour, which only brought more angry voices and commotion from others. Another woman climbed to the top of the ladder and yelled and pounded on the cargo door. From somewhere in the ship, Hang heard Ngoc Bích yelling and the pounding clang of metal being struck with a pipe.

The cargo doors were opened and the women rushed to stand beneath as fresh air and rain came in from above. The crew member took only the first few steps down the ladder before cursing and going back up. He returned a few minutes later and tossed down a mop while ordering another woman to bring up the plastic pail so that it could be dumped overboard.

Three weeks passed and, despite the promise to be allowed on deck at night, had that luxury rescinded because of severe storms. The ship rocked and creaked as it was blasted by the wind and heavy waves. During this time, the cargo doors were closed again to prevent flooding. It was also the time when most people were sick.

On this night, the storm was worse than usual and Hang was one of the few who had managed to keep her food down. She waited until most of the others were asleep before deciding to take the opportunity to squat over the plastic pail.

She balanced her steps on the rollicking floor of the ship as she headed for the pail, only to see that it was overflowing. She wondered what to do just as the ship gave another violent heave, sending the pail sliding across the floor and tipping over. She decided to wait.

On the following night, the storms abated. It was January 29th, this year’s official beginning of the celebration of Tet Nguyê;n Dán, or “TET,” as it is commonly called, marking the lunar New Year. This year was the Year of the Dog. Today, their daily rations of rice, noodles, and fish soup was replaced with ample quantities of chicken, pork, and vegetables.

As soon as darkness came, everyone was allowed on deck. It didn’t take Hang and Ngoc Bích long to find each other. They decided to speak Vietnamese to each other. Tonight would be a night to relax. Even if they couldn’t be together on the ship, they promised each other they would remain friends when they got off. Then there would be plenty of time to practise English.

They watched as a couple of the crew members waved bottles of wine and invited some of the women back to their rooms with them. Some of the women went and Hang caught the look of disapproval from Ngoc Bích as she stared after them.

“The crew ... their rooms will be warm,” said Hang. “Is it wrong to drink wine?”

Ngoc Bích turned to Hang and smiled and said, “You are a child, my new sister. It is not just wine that these men want to put in the women.”

Hang felt embarrassed but said, “The women, maybe they will just enjoy the warmth and then say no, and leave.”

Ngoc Bích shook her head and said, “That is why the men will share the wine. These young women will be too drunk to say no ... and if they do, the men may not listen. Never dishonour your family by such behaviour.”

Hang was appalled that Ngoc Bích would even feel the need to convey that to her. “I never would. Yuk! Never!”

“Good. No man would ever want you for his wife then,” said Ngoc Bích seriously.

“I will never dishonour my family,” replied Hang solemnly. “My father has told me about such women. Greedy women, who give their bodies to men.”

Ngoc Bích nodded. “Always respect what you do and respect yourself. In America I am going to be trained to give massages and work at a hotel where the very rich go,” said Ngoc Bích. “I will make lots of money and then,” Ngoc Bích paused as her eyes twinkled, “when a man with a bottle of wine invites me to his room ... I will go.”

“You will go?” exclaimed Hang.

“Yes. Because that man will be my husband.”

Hang laughed and Ngoc Bích joined in. Hang could not remember the last time she had laughed. Ngoc Bích’s comments made her realize how lucky she was ... or would be in three weeks when they arrived. She was told that the home of Mister Pops was so large that she would have her own bedroom. He was even so rich that when Linh came, she would also have her own bedroom.

Pops turned the radio on to maximum volume before flushing the toilet and crouching down to hurry through the short passageway that led to the television room in his basement. Once free of the passageway, he pushed the square doorway shut behind him.

He stood panting for a moment. Not that he was out of shape. He was a big man with a narcissistic drive that compelled him to maintain a daily routine of bodybuilding. His panting was not from physical exertion. It was from excitement.

Pops’s house was a four-level split built over the side of a hill. In the basement of the home, he had discovered a small trap door leading to a dead space in the earth behind his foundation. The trap door was intended to gain access to some plumbing pipes that led from the upper levels down to the run-off pipes in the earth below.

When Pops first stuck his head in the hole and shone a flashlight around, he saw a space that ran the width of his house and was several metres wide. It was partially back-filled with dirt and debris from when his house was built. The area was completely sealed off by cement foundations that supported the upper levels of his house farther back on the hill.

For many months, Pops lay awake and fantasized about what special use he could make of this newfound space. His fantasies were about to become real.

Now Pops stood and held his breath and listened. Not a sound! He placed his ear to the wall and could hear a slight sound from the radio, but if he had not known better, he might have deduced it came from some other home in his neighbourhood.

“Yes!” he shouted with elation, while punching his fist into the palm of his other hand. The heavy thickness of soundproofing worked! He opened the passageway door and ducked back inside to retrieve the radio.

The room he had built was basically a smaller room within the space. It was like a huge rectangular plywood box with an igloo-style passageway that led into it. There was a drain on the floor, along with a foam mattress, a toilet, and a set of shackles and chains fastened to the floor at each end of the room.

chapter two

Corporal Jack Taggart glanced at Constable Laura Secord as she patiently sat at her desk while flipping through the Royal Canadian Mounted Police Gazette. Her desk butted up to his and space was at a premium.

The Intelligence Unit targeted organized crime, which meant gathering information on secretive societies. Investigations often fanned out like inverted pyramids. One criminal would lead to others and these others would lead to others and so on, as investigators tried to determine who were involved in criminal enterprises and who were just associates.

Jack and Laura’s office slowly collected more and more file cabinets that in themselves became like Pandora’s boxes for those who would look inside to try to grasp the nature of the beast.

It was late Friday afternoon and their shift should be just about over. Should be, but wouldn’t, grimaced Jack, while waiting to receive a text message on his BlackBerry. He knew Laura wouldn’t complain. Personal life often took a back seat as they adjusted their hours to match the hours of people who worked without schedules. At least it did if you were to be effective. Effective in your work. Not effective in your personal life.

His thoughts went back to the person he was waiting to hear from. Why? Why would Damien make such an obvious faux pas? The National President of Satans Wrath .... You didn’t end up in charge of the top organized crime family in Canada by being stupid. So why?

Satans Wrath had chapters in dozens of countries. They operated like an international corporation with paramilitary discipline. In many countries, including Canada, they were at the top of the list when it came to organized crime. Each chapter had its own president and each country had one national president. In Canada, that was Damien.

Jack felt a vibration on his belt. Finally ...

Laura saw Jack grab for his BlackBerry. She studied his face as he read the text message. Jack was more than her boss. Next to her husband, Jack was her closest friend.

He glanced up and said, “It’s him. Montrose Park in forty-five minutes.”

“I don’t know it,” replied Laura.

“Near Second Narrow Bridge.”

“I’ll call Elvis,” said Laura. “You mind dropping me off at home later? We rode in together this morning.”

“Hopefully he’s not already waiting outside to follow us,” said Jack.

Laura pursed her lips to hide her grin. Her husband worked on the Anti-Corruption Unit, which handled the more serious investigations directed to Internal Affairs. Jack’s name was familiar to everyone in her husband’s unit. He had been the subject of more than one investigation.

Not that it did them any good, mused Laura. Jack does operate under his own set of rules and his methods are unorthodox—okay, illegal—but never corrupt.

It sometimes left Laura in an awkward position with Elvis, but he trusted her own moral judgement ... and she trusted Jack’s. Her marriage was something of a balancing act, not just for her, but for Elvis, too. They had elected not to discuss work at home.

Since being transferred to work with Jack on the Intelligence Unit last year, Laura really appreciated just how necessary it was to have an Anti-Corruption Unit. Organized crime specialized in turning what were once good cops into dirty cops. Elvis did not have an easy job. Something that made her love him all the more.

“Sure I’ll drop you off,” said Jack, continuing their conversation. “I’ll give Natasha a call, too.”

Laura dialled Elvis, who put her on hold. She watched as Jack called his wife. Natasha was a doctor who worked in an emergency clinic on the downtown east side. Not an easy job, either.

Laura heard the first few words of Jack’s conversation to Natasha. “Hey honey, I’m going to be a little late. Maybe around seven. Laura and I have to go meet a friend ....”

Laura’s thoughts went to who they were really meeting. Meeting a friend meant meeting a confidential source. Real names were never used. Jack was extremely protective of any of his sources. Their friend in this case was Damien. Not actually an informant, but as a top criminal, Damien and the police sometimes had common enemies. Laura knew that only too well.

Last year a Colombian drug lord by the name of Carlos planned to murder Damien and had tried to kill Jack. The biker’s rules stated they would never phone the police or cooperate with them. Last year was different. Damien was scared for his own family and reluctantly agreed to go along with Jack’s plan to neutralize Carlos. Can’t believe my mind thought the word neutralize —Jack’s influence no doubt. I should have thought murder.

Jack convinced the brass to let them travel to Colombia on the pretext of arranging an undercover purchase of a shipment of cocaine by using Damien as an informant. His real plan had Damien introduce them to a rival Colombian drug lord by the name of Diego Ramirez and convincing Ramirez to kill Carlos. The plan worked. Ramirez never did find out that Jack and Laura were undercover police officers.

Ramirez used a string of shoe stores and leather factories to launder his money and aid in his exportation of tonnes of cocaine. When they all met last year in Colombia, it was obvious that he was attracted to Laura.

At Christmas, Ramirez sent a box full of expensive shoes to Damien to pass on to Laura. Damien held on to them for over a month before sending them to her house. Laura thought Damien should have known better. Gifts from Damien or a Colombian drug lord would definitely attract the attention of the Anti-Corruption Unit. She was glad that Elvis was not home when they arrived and did not see her take them out to the trunk of the car.

This resulted in another secret that she kept from him. Keeping secrets from her husband bothered her immensely. Elvis always knew when she was up to something ... but was kind enough not to probe too deep when it came to the job.

When Laura finished talking to Elvis, Jack said, “Come on.

We’d better tell Quaile something.”

Moments later, Jack walked into Staff Sergeant Quaile’s office with Laura at his heels. Quaile was in charge of their particular Intelligence Unit, having arrived from a Commercial Crime Section in the fall.

Quaile was pegged as a high flyer. Someone who was rapidly climbing the corporate ladder. Jack knew that Quaile obviously had the backing of some high-ranking officer from somewhere in his career. His transfer to the Intelligence Unit was just another step in balancing his experience. Which means he won’t be here long.

Jack waited until Quaile looked up and said, “Laura and I are heading out to meet a source. We’ll be gone for the day.”

Quaile glanced at his watch and said, “Thirty minutes before your shift ends? Is that what you are really doing—or are you just skipping out early?”

Jack felt his jaw clench, and replied, “We are meeting a source.” There was a noticeable edge to his voice.

“Really? What source?” Quaile’s tone now matched Jack’s.

Damn it, why antagonize a snake? Jack thought. I’ll only be bitten. Jack’s voice returned to normal and he replied, “Fred Farkle. He’s a dope dealer.”

“Oh,” replied Quaile. He stared at his own hand for a moment while drumming his fingers on his desk. Reaching a decision, he abruptly looked up and said, “Okay, but you’re not claiming overtime for this. You should have rescheduled to a more appropriate time.”

“We won’t claim overtime.”

Quaile nodded and returned to reading the policy manual.

Upon entering the parking garage Laura snickered and said, “Fred Farkle? Couldn’t you come up with a better name than that?”

“If Quaile was smarter, I would have,” replied Jack, opening the car trunk and passing Laura her bag of clothes.

“And this is another thing,” replied Laura. “Having to change clothes so we don’t look like two J. Edgar Hoover FBI agents—doesn’t he appreciate the type of work we do?”

“Apparently not. Just remember to change back when we return.”

“What the hell are you up to?” said Jack, while throwing the box of shoes down on the path at Damien’s feet.

“What?” replied Damien, looking first at the shoes sprawled out of the box before gazing at Laura. “Wrong size?”

“This is bullshit,” said Jack. “You know better. What’s going on?”

Damien glanced around the park, nodded and said, “Let’s keep moving.”

They left the discarded shoes on the ground and strolled down a path together. “Sorry,” said Damien. “I got inebriated the other night and decided it would be funny. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s all there is to it?” said Jack heatedly. “Making it look like Laura could be getting a bribe—speaking of which, did you know her husband works in Internal Affairs?”

“Internal? I heard he was in the Anti-Corruption Unit,” said Damien, before quickly adding, “Oh, I guess it’s the same thing. Besides, he wasn’t home at the time.”

Laura felt her spine tingle. Damien knows a lot about us ... too much!

As if reading her mind, Damien looked at her and said, “Don’t worry. Just routine survival stuff. You know, keep your friends close, your enemies ...”

“So, you’re telling us you did it because you were pissed the other night?” said Jack.

Damien studied Jack’s face momentarily before answering, “No, I said I was inebriated. There you go again. Typical cop, thinking you have to lard on the tough talk.”

“So inebriated,” said Jack, “that you decided to advertise that you were back in the cocaine import business again?” Jack looked at Laura and added, “What am I saying? Why did I think he was ever out of it?”

Damien shook his head and said, “No, I am not importing cocaine from Ramirez. After what we went through with him last year? Give your head a shake!”

“New supplier?” asked Jack.

“It’s not us you should be wasting your time on,” said Damien.

“I’ve never found working on Satans Wrath to be a waste of time,” said Jack.

Damien eyed Jack briefly and said, “Maybe in this new day and age you should set your sights higher. Start thinking outside the box. The world doesn’t end at the Vancouver city limits.”

“What are you saying?” asked Jack.

“I’m just saying that your time could be better spent than hassling a few of my boys who might have crossed the line once in a while.”

“May have crossed the line once in a while?” said Laura, sarcastically.

Jack gave a slight shake of his head to Laura, signalling for her to be quiet. Damien sent the shoes because he wants us to know something ... but what? Jack looked at Damien and said, “Set our sights higher? On who?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a rat, but—just for example—I did hear of a couple of Russians who were asking a lot of questions about how to bypass something through the Port of Vancouver. Maybe you should be looking at them.”

“And what do they intend to smuggle?” asked Jack.

Damien stared intently at Jack for a moment, and said, really don’t know. I’m not having anything to do with them. Neither is anyone in the club.”

Jack sensed a look of fear in Damien’s eyes. What is he afraid of?

“Russian mafia?” asked Laura.

“Probably connected,” shrugged Damien.

Jack watched Damien nervously look around as he spoke.

“You talk to them personally?” asked Jack.

Damien nodded and said, “For some reason they seemed to think that we had a connection at the Port.”

“You do,” said Jack.

Damien flashed an irritated glance at Jack and said, “We met briefly. It was real brief. I did all the talking. I told them we would have nothing to do with them. If you guys, or whoever, were watching—I’m just telling you that we are not involved with anything they might be up to.”

“And you don’t know what they are up to?” asked Jack.

“That’s right! I don’t!”

“Who are they?” asked Jack. “What do they look like?”

“I don’t remember. That’s all I’ve got to say.”

“I thought so,” said Jack. “You are involved with them and are protecting them while trying to cover yourself.”

“I’m not a liar!” said Damien, before clenching his jaw.

“Then quit playing games. You didn’t call us here for nothing. What is it? Something is eating away at you.”

Damien glared at Jack for a moment. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Okay, okay. I know I owe you for what you both did in Colombia last year,” he said, lowering his voice. “So I’ll tell you a little something about them. This is just between us, right?”

“You’ve got my word on that,” replied Jack, glancing at Laura, who nodded her head.

Damien stared at Jack, nodded in return and said, “They’re both about my age.”

“And you turned fifty-three last April,” said Jack.

Damien frowned and Jack added, “It’s like you said, know your enemies.”

“Yeah,” replied Damien gruffly. “Early fifties. One guy is tall, thin, short grey hair, grey moustache, and a prominent nose that sticks out like a beak. The other is short, fat, and bald with hairy arms. Looks like an orangutan. They mentioned they used to be schoolteachers in Russia.”

“Schoolteachers!” exclaimed Laura.

“They’re lying,” said Damien. “These guys are different.”

“How so?” asked Jack.

“I know authority types. The tall one for sure has government written all over him. Maybe military ... maybe police ... something. They’re sure as hell not schoolteachers.”

“So, what are you suggesting?” asked Jack.

“I’m suggesting that you should be working on them rather than bothering a bunch of working stiffs who occasionally like to get together and ride bikes.”

Jack started to laugh but Damien interrupted and said, “No, seriously. Whatever they’re up to, I’m not interested. And neither is anyone in the club. Understood?”

“I understand what you’re telling me,” said Jack.

“Damn it, Jack! I’m telling you the truth. We are not involved with them!”

“How do I find them?”

Damien glanced around and after not seeing anyone, he handed Jack a slip of paper. The names Petya and Styopa were on the paper, along with a cellphone number and an apartment address.

“There are only three guys on this planet that make me ... uncomfortable,” said Damien. “You,” he said, pointing a finger at Jack, “and these two.”

Jack studied Damien’s face as he spoke. He is nervous ... so what the hell is going on?

Damien gestured to the slip of paper in Jack’s hand and said, “They think the cell number is cool so it could prove interesting to you. They also don’t know I know their address. It’s a penthouse suite backing onto Stanley Park. Fairly lavish. Two bedrooms, mini-bar, plasma television, one desk with a laptop computer and ... a bunch of textbooks.”

“And they don’t know you know their address?” commented Laura, with a bemused look on her face.

Damien ignored the comment.

Textbooks? wondered Jack. Odd comment. “What type of textbooks?” he asked.

“They were in Russian.” Damien stared at Jack and said, “So I don’t know for sure.”

Jack sensed that there was more to this than Damien was letting on. Or is he uncomfortable admitting that he had his guys break into the Russians’ apartment?

“You might be interested in who visits them there,” Damien suggested.

“And who would that be?” asked Jack.

“How the hell should I know?” Damien pointed to the paper in Jack’s hand and said, “Don’t lose that. I didn’t make a copy and will have nothing further to do with these guys. That’s all I’ve got to say on the matter.”

Damien turned away and took a step, but stopped and added, “Oh, by the way, I almost forgot. The shoes didn’t arrive how you might think. But I guess if you had toxicology check them for powder you probably already know that.” He handed Laura another piece of paper and walked away.

“Customs declaration,” said Laura. “The shoes were mailed to him directly. No cargo ship involved.” She stared after Damien. “So, what was that all about? Do you think he’s trying to sidetrack us into working on someone else instead of them?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe he wants us to get rid of the competition for him.”

“He has his own surveillance team and hit squad for dealing with the competition.”

“Complete with locksmith,” added Laura.

“Probably the one they call Sparks, from the east-side chapter. He does bugging as well.”

“Figure he’s bugged the Russians?”

“I don’t think so. Not after telling us. He’d be afraid we’d find out. No, I think he’s telling the truth when he says he doesn’t want anything to do with them.”

“So what do you think? That these guys are with the Russian mafia and have got him rattled?”

Jack shook his head. “Satans Wrath had a problem with the Russian mafia a few years ago. Four Russian brothers were the ringleaders. It took a year or so, but when the bullets stopped, there were three dead Russians and the fourth fled back to Moscow. This is what’s so strange. Stuff like that doesn’t scare him. He said that these two guys make him uncomfortable. For him to admit that—I just never would have believed it possible.”

“Why doesn’t he just kill them?”

“That’s just it. I don’t understand.” Jack spoke his thoughts aloud. “There’s something he isn’t telling us. Some potential consequence that scares the hell out of him.”

“So what should we do?”

“I think we better do as he says. Check these guys out.”

It was late afternoon as Assistant Commissioner Isaac sat at his desk and gazed at the picture that stood upright on his desk next to his Bible. It was a picture of Sarah and Norah. His wife and daughter. Norah was only seventeen when an impaired driver raced through a red light, striking the side of the car that she was in. She died at the scene. Her friend, who was driving, was also seventeen and Isaac knew that she still blamed herself.

It was not her fault ... I pray that some day she realizes that. The impaired driver was convicted and lost his licence. Little compensation for losing our daughter.

“Staff Sergeant Quaile here to see you,” announced his secretary.

Moments later, Quaile was seated in an overstuffed leather chair facing Isaac’s desk while nervously wondering why he had been summoned.

For management purposes, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was broken down into four nationwide regions: the Atlantic, Central, NorthWest, and Pacific Regions. Isaac was the Criminal Operations Officer who oversaw all the operational investigations in the Pacific Region. It made Quaile feel like he had just been invited into the inner sanctum of power.

“You’ve been in charge of the Intelligence Unit for three months now,” observed Isaac.

“Yes, sir,” replied Quaile. “Three months today, actually.”

Isaac nodded. It was a date he had already noted in his Day-timer from when Quaile first arrived to the section. His piercing eyes examined Quaile closely and he said, “I wanted to wait until you had ... a feel ... for the office before having this conversation with you. A conversation that for now will remain between the two of us.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I want to talk with you about Corporal Taggart.”

“Sir?”

“Are you familiar with the more unusual aspects of some of his past investigations?”

“I heard he was in a shootout with some bikers two years ago. Also that someone tried to kill him last year.”

Isaac nodded knowingly and said, “He’s had a rather lively career. Outstanding in some aspects. But ...” Isaac paused and glanced down at his desk before continuing, “I’m not exactly sure how I should word this. There’s never been any proof,” he muttered, more to himself than to Quaile.

“Proof, sir? Of what?”

“Of any wrongdoing on the part of Corporal Taggart. This is the dilemma. He could be completely innocent. Incredibly lucky, perhaps. His predictions in his reports about organized crime families have been remarkably accurate.”

“That concerns you, sir?”

“No,” said Isaac, brusquely. “That is not what concerns me. What concerns me is that key people he works on end up dead! That is what concerns me!”

“Dead?” said Quaile, sounding dumbfounded. “You mean like—I don’t understand.”

“I’ll give you a quick history lesson. Three years ago, Corporal Taggart worked on a notorious French bank robber who was the ringleader in a gang that robbed banks across Canada. They were responsible for wounding and paralyzing a female officer in Quebec. Two months after Taggart starts to work on them, suddenly the gang believes their boss is an informant and kills him.”

“Was he Taggart’s informant?”

“No.”

“Oh, I see,” said Quaile, wondering what Isaac meant.

“That investigation followed another where a corrupt prosecutor working for Satans Wrath had ...”

“Had the bikers go after Taggart’s niece and nephew. I heard about that,” said Quaile.

“And did you hear that this prosecutor was later found dead in his swimming pool?”

“Yes, sir. An accidental drowning, I was told.”

“Maybe it was—but it happened in Mexico at the same time Taggart was in Mexico.”

Quaile swallowed nervously when he realized the implication.

“Perhaps that was just a coincidence,” continued Isaac. “Then, last year, a Colombian drug lord tried to kill Taggart and terrorized the family of Constable Danny O’Reilly, who was Taggart’s partner. A short time later, Taggart went to Colombia, allegedly to work on an unrelated investigation. Within a day of his arrival the drug lord and thirty of his men were murdered.”

“Taggart did that?” asked Quaile, his eyes wide and his mouth dropping open.

“No, I’m not saying that he did. It’s just that ... well, quite frankly, it has crossed my mind if he wasn’t somehow responsible. All this might simply be the suspicious brooding of an old man who has been on the job too long.”

“I don’t think you’re old, sir.” Quaile caught the frown that passed over Isaac’s face. Smart old fart. I’ll have to be more tactful ...

“What I’m asking,” continued Isaac, “is that you keep an eye on him and report anything suspicious to me. Understood?”

“Yes, sir. You may be pleased to know that I’m already on top of it. I’ve sensed he was a bad apple ever since I first arrived.”

“You have?”

“I’ve found him to be contemptuous in nature and he is not someone I feel is properly groomed for the duties he is now responsible for. I’m surprised that his predecessor did not identify this.”

“I’ve noticed that your office seems ... well, more spruced up since your arrival.”

“Thank you, sir. Shoddiness, tardiness, insubordination ... are all things I will not permit under my command. Unfortunately, Corporal Taggart has required discipline in all these areas. I also suspect he is a bad influence on the more junior members in the office. Now, realizing his history, perhaps Taggart is someone who should be given a less significant position?”

Isaac let out a sigh and said, “I hope you haven’t misunderstood me on this matter. Taggart has done excellent work in the past. He is a particularly gifted undercover operative, exceptionally astute, and if I were a criminal, quite honestly, he is the last person I would ever want on my trail. All I’m asking you to do is to keep close tabs on him. Treat him fairly, but at the same time, I will not tolerate any deviations from policy. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Quaile. The first real test of my leadership! Thank you for the opportunity, Corporal Taggart!

chapter three

Hang’s wet hands grasped the rope ladder to the fishing trawler waiting below. A mixture of rain and snow lashed at her face but she did not care. The excitement of finally arriving made everyone slightly giddy. The fact that their ship was three days ahead of schedule made it even better.

As soon as her feet touched the deck of the trawler, she anxiously pushed her way past the others to the outside edge to see if she could see any lights on shore. She saw only darkness.

Hang felt an arm around her shoulders and smiled at Ngoc Bích. “We’ve made it,” said Hang, feeling breathless.

“They told me we would be on land in an hour,” replied Ngoc Bích. “We haven’t made it yet.”

“If it is only an hour, I think I could swim that far,” replied Hang.

Ngoc Bích laughed and said, “Not here. You would become like a block of ice at the fish market.”

“Quiet everyone! Lie down!” came a man’s hushed voice from the ship above.

Hang quickly did as instructed. Soon the reason was clear as she heard the sound of a third boat. It chugged closer and closer ... before continuing past.

Hang peeked over the railing and saw that it was another fishing trawler heading out to sea. Everything was okay.

Their trawler did make land in an hour and moored alongside a wharf. Two vans took turns relaying the passengers to their next destination. Eventually it was Hang and Ngoc Bích’s turn to stumble down a wharf into a waiting van.

“My legs ... they are acting strange,” said Hang.

“We are like sailors,” said Ngoc Bích. “At sea many days.” They reached the van and crawled in the back with several other passengers. The driver was a Vietnamese man. He told them he was a fisherman and would take them to his home nearby.

“Just like Hanoi,” commented Hang, gesturing around the van from where she sat on the floor. “Another crowded van filled with the same people. Maybe we’re still in Hanoi.”

Ngoc Bích smiled. “Same, same, only different. It is colder. We are in Canada.”

The fisherman’s home turned out to be a house set back from the highway in a forest. Hang had a glimpse of the heavy moss on the roof of the house and the peeling olive-coloured paint on the siding while being ushered inside to join her fellow passengers in the basement of the house.

Once in the basement, Hang felt like she had entered paradise. The room was warm and the floor was scattered with blankets. There was a bathroom, complete with a shower for them to use, and even a television set. Few people from Hang’s neighbourhood would ever be able to afford a television set.

Hang and Ngoc Bích looked at each other and smiled. Excited voices drew Hang’s attention to the far side of the room where several of the passengers were standing near a stove. A real stove! Not a hot plate. Hang was awed. That a simple fisherman should own such a place—is it possible?

A large pot of boiling water was on the stove and some of the passengers who had arrived earlier were dumping Dungeness crabs into the pot. Hang and Ngoc Bích quickly joined in.

A short time later, Hang crawled under a blanket. Her stomach was full and it didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.

It was many hours later when Hang awoke to the sound of a woman speaking English. The voice came from the television set and she saw Ngoc Bích staring at it intently.

Hang joined her and Ngoc Bích said, “Good to look. Learn English.”

Hang found herself watching a show called CSI. It was about the American police. It was a show she found engrossing. They are the police and they are scientists. Very smart these American police ...

The fisherman came downstairs to tell them that because the ship was early, they would have to stay in the house for another three days before continuing on.

Hang smiled. She was anxious to meet her new family, but after what she had been through in the last six weeks, this was like being told she would have to stay in a palace.

The fisherman produced the list of paper that Hang had seen prepared by the bald ape and the vulture in Hanoi. The names were called out and everyone was divided into two groups, except for Hang, who remained standing alone.

Then came the bad news. Only half the women were being smuggled into the United States. The other half, including Ngoc Bích, would be staying to work in hotels in Canada.

Hang pushed through the group and grabbed her friend by the arm. “Say something! Come to America with me!”

Ngoc Bích took the fisherman aside and talked to him quietly. Hang saw him shake his head and she felt a lump in her throat. She wished that her father had sent Linh with her. Now the loneliness crept into her body like the morning fog that swirled past the doors of Ho Chi Minh’s mausoleum.

Ngoc Bích returned and said, “It is not all bad. I must work in Canada for only a few months. Then I will be sent to America. I have been selected to work at hotels owned by three men. They are Vietnamese. The Tran brothers. I am told that one of them is taking you to your home in America. He will know where you are. We will see each other in a few months.”

Hang looked at Ngoc Bích and said, “You will not forget me?”

“You would forget your sister?” asked Ngoc Bích.

“No. I wish she was here now,” grumbled Hang.

“In Hanoi I told you I would be your sister as well. I will not forget you any more than I would forget my other brothers and sisters in Nha Trang.”

Hang looked solemnly at Ngoc Bích before hugging her.

The next couple of days went by quickly for Hang. She spent much of her time watching back-to-back episodes of CSI. A cube van arrived one morning and the women who had been selected to go to the United States were called.

Hang collected her clothes and turned to hug Ngoc Bích, but the fisherman touched her shoulder and said, “Not yet. You must stay here with these other women until more arrangements are made.”

Hang felt happy. The longer she was with Ngoc Bích, the better.

Later that night, another cube van arrived and the fisherman came downstairs with a young Vietnamese man. The fisherman pointed to Hang and the young man immediately approached her.

“You speak English?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Hang.

“My name is Tommy. I was born in Canada. My Vietnamese is not so good. Explain to the others that we must leave here at midnight tonight. We have to catch a ferry at quarter after five in the morning.”

“Another boat?” asked Hang.

“Not long. Only two hours. Everyone will ride in the back of the truck. Tell them to be quiet. I do not want anyone to know there are other people in the truck.”

“And after this ferry ride I go to United States?” asked Hang.

“I do not know. I work for Dúc. He told me and Cuóng to bring everyone, so you’re coming to.”

“Cuóng?” asked Hang.

“He is driving the truck. He works for my boss, too.”

“Mister Dúc is one of three brothers?” asked Hang.

“Yes, Dúc has two brothers in business with him.”

“Now I understand,” said Hang. “Mine is a special situation. I will not be working in the hotel business. Your boss is going to take me to live with a family in the United States.”

“Lucky for you.”

Hang gestured at the CSI show on the television and said, “Lucky—only if I do not get caught by the police. The American police are very smart. They are scientists.”

Hang believed her worry was justified and was startled when Tommy started laughing.

“You laugh that I may get caught? After what I have been through!” she said angrily.

“No ... this is just television,” Tommy said with a smile. “You need not be afraid. What you are watching ... that is not all the police in the States. CSI are a special type. They only work on dead people. Believe me, if my boss is looking after you, you will not have to worry about the police.”

“You are certain?”

“Yes. My boss does not take chances.”

Their midnight truck ride, followed by the trip on the ferry, went without incident.

It was eight o’clock in the morning when Hang accepted Ngoc Bích’s helping hand as she climbed out of the truck. The truck had been backed up to a garage where a man ushered everyone to the rear of the garage. The overhead door was shut as the truck drove away.

The man inside the garage said his name was Giang. He said they would only have to wait a few minutes and would be on their way once more.

As they waited, Hang saw Giang leering at the women. His eyes settled on Ngoc Bích and he stared brazenly, with a thin smile on his lips. Hang knew Ngoc Bích was perhaps the prettiest, but to be so bold as to stare ...

“I do not like that man,” whispered Hang, while clutching Ngoc Bích by the hand.

“If he were an animal,” said Ngoc Bích, “he would be a pig.”

Hang smiled and said, “You think of people as animals or birds?”

“Sometimes.”

“On our voyage, did you see a bald ape and a long-billed vulture?”

Ngoc Bích paused for a moment, and smiled. “Yes. The two foreigners in the apartment in Hanoi!”

They both giggled but Giang cut them short by stepping closer. “What are you saying about me?” he snarled.

Hang stepped back, fearfully tugging on Ngoc Bích’s hand but she remained firm and looked Giang in the eye and said, “Who are you that we should talk about you? We were talking about Hanoi.”

“That ...” Giang’s response was interrupted by a doorbell and another Vietnamese man hollered to him from inside the house. Giang immediately disappeared, only to return moments later with two more Vietnamese men.

These two men repeated the pattern that Hang had seen in the apartment in Hanoi. The remaining women were once more divided into two groups, while she was left standing alone.

Minutes later, one of the Vietnamese men backed a van inside the garage and the first group of women were driven away.

The second Vietnamese man pointed a finger at Hang and said, “You will wait here. My brother will be along soon.” He looked at the remaining women and said, “Wait until I back my van up to the garage and then get in.”

Hang realized that Ngoc Bích would be gone within a minute. She felt Ngoc Bích’s fingers on her arm and they looked at each other and tried to smile. Ngoc Bích fondly massaged Hang’s arm and said, “Only a couple of months. It will go fast.”

“You are my first friend in America,” said Hang.

“No,” chided Ngoc Bích. “We are sisters.”

Hang heard the harsh command telling the women to hurry as they climbed into the second van. The overhead garage door closed again and Ngoc Bích was gone.

Hang was now in the garage alone with Giang and she fearfully glanced in his direction.

“Sit on the floor and wait,” he said, and turned and went into the house.

Hang was glad to be alone.

Half an hour passed before Giang returned. “Mister Dúc is here,” he said, opening the garage door. Dúc drove a car into the garage and Giang closed the door behind him.

The man got out of the car and smiled at Hang. “I am here to take you to your new family.”

Hang saw that Dúc was a small man, with skinny arms and legs. If he were an animal, he would be a spider monkey. She nodded respectfully and asked, “Mister Dúc, may I ask if the journey will be long?”

“You may ask whatever you like! No, your journey will not be long. We are in a place called Richmond. It is close to the American border. You will be in your new home in less than two hours.”

“In two hours!” Hang felt the adrenalin pump through her veins.

“I must apologize that you will have to ride in the trunk of my car. It will be uncomfortable, but I have put several pillows and a blanket in there to try and make it more comfortable. There is also some bottled water.”

“Thank you, Mister Dúc.”

“I have a rear seat that folds down and for a little while, we will leave it down so you can talk if you wish. Once we get close to the border you will have to pull the seat closed and be very quiet as I clear U.S. Customs. Leave it closed until I tell you that it is okay.”

“They will not search your trunk?” Hang asked.

Dúc smiled and said, “Some money will be passed. It is arranged, but it is still better if you are quiet.”

Dúc turned to Giang and said, “Be at the Orient Pleasure tonight at closing time. Bring the guys. I will be at a party and may be late. No matter if I am there or not. Start the ...” Dúc glanced at Hang before continuing, “the training without me.”

Hang could not help but notice the harsh tone of Dúc’s voice when he spoke with Giang, who nodded obediently while staring down at his own feet.

Mister Dúc may look like a spider monkey—but he is powerful!

Dúc opened up the trunk to his car and gestured for Hang to get in. She climbed in and made herself comfortable on some pillows. Dúc opened up half of the rear seat and from her position, Hang could see out the car windows at an angle looking up.

“When we get close to the U.S. border, I will tell you and you can just pull on that strap and the seat will close,” said Dúc.

Hang nodded, feeling her body tremble as the final leg of her journey began.

Street lights and overhead signs passed by quickly as they drove. Hang saw that they were on a highway marked 99.

“Up ahead, Hang!” yelled Dúc. “Look! See it?”

Hang strained her head up to see what Dúc was pointing at. Canada–U.S. Border! This is it! “I see it! I see it!” she said.

“Pull the seat closed! Quickly!” yelled Dúc.

Hang yanked hard on the strap and the seat closed tightly into position. She was now in complete darkness. She worried that the pounding of her heart could be heard. When she heard the blast of music as the radio was turned up she breathed easier. Mister Dúc knows what he is doing ...

Dúc smiled as he turned off at the 8th Avenue exit, just prior to the U.S. border. He made a couple of more turns and slowed down as he inched his way along in a lineup of cars.

Hang could hear little due to the loud music, but she felt the motion of the car as it would slowly pull ahead, stop, pull ahead some more. Her feet touched the plastic bag containing her clothes and it made a rustling sound. She froze, holding her breath, but the car inched forward again.

Dúc picked up his coffee at the drive-through window and continued on.

Hang breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the car pick up speed. Dúc turned the radio down and yelled back to her, “Don’t open the seat. We’re through, but there are lots of big trucks beside me. I don’t want anyone to look down and see you. Should only be about another twenty minutes.”

Twenty minutes later, Hang felt the car stop and heard the sound of a garage door. Dúc pulled into the garage and she heard the garage door close. The trunk was opened.

Hang saw a large man standing next to Dúc. He was about the same age as her own father, but he was wearing sweat pants and a white T-shirt. Hang had never seen a man with arms bulging with such big muscles.

“Hang,” said Dúc, “I’d like you to meet ...”

“Pops,” the big man beside Dúc said. “Just call me Pops.” He smiled and said, “Here, let me help you out of there. I bet you’re really uncomfortable.”

Before Hang could answer, he bent over and lifted her out of the trunk and gently set her down beside him. “Welcome to the States,” he said. “Come, I’ll show you your new home,” he said, opening a door that led into the house. “You must be tired ... and hungry too, I bet!”

Hang felt dumbstruck as she was shown around the house. Dúc trailed along behind and seldom spoke. To Hang, the house was huge. There was a large kitchen and a sitting room with a fireplace.

“How many other families live here?” asked Hang.

Pops chuckled and said, “Just us. No other families.”

Hang shook her head in amazement, and asked, “Where is Mrs. Pops? Is she here? I have something to give her.”

“She is not home right now. Her mother is sick and she had to go away for a couple of days.”

“I am sorry,” said Hang, hoping her question did not cause discomfort.

“That is okay. Come, let me show you the rest of the house. For now, we have to keep the drapes and blinds shut. Nobody must know you are here until we receive the proper documentation.”

Pops shoved open a door and said, “This is my bedroom.”

Hang looked inside and saw that on the opposite side of the bedroom was the bathroom. To get to the bathroom you have to walk through Mister Pops’s bedroom! Poor to build a house in such a manner.

Hang was led farther down the hall and Pops opened the door to another room.

“This is your bedroom,” said Pops, placing Hang’s bag of clothes on the floor. “You can hang your jacket in the closet.”

Hang gazed around the room in awe. It was huge. Her eyes wandered from a big stuffed teddy bear lying on the bed to something that startled her.

“Mister Pops! There is a television in my room! Do we watch it in here?”

Pops laughed and said, “No, that is just for you.”

“For me!” Hang exclaimed, putting her hand over her mouth.

“You can watch it in here if you want to be alone. I’ll show you another television that you can watch if you do not wish to be alone. It is much bigger, but first, I want to finish showing you around up here.”

Hang opened the closet door and saw that the closet had more space than the area that both she and Linh had when they slept at home.

Pops opened another door beside her bedroom. “This is your bathroom,” he said. “If there is anything you are missing or anything you need, please just ask me.”

“Mister Pops, this is ... for me, too?”

He grinned and said, “Mister? No, no, no. Just call me Pops. Yes, this bathroom is for you until your sister comes. Then you’ll have to share the bathroom with her. Of course,” he said, opening the door to another bedroom, “she’ll have own her room.”

“I’ll go now,” interrupted Dúc. He handed Pops a cellphone and said, “For later.”

Pops had Hang wait in the kitchen while he went to the garage with Dúc. As soon as Dúc was gone, Pops returned and said, “Come, follow me. I’ll show you a real TV set.”

Hang was in a daze as Pops led her to the basement, where they entered a large room with wooden panelling on the walls and thick wall-to-wall carpet. There was a leather sofa, two upholstered chairs, and a coffee table in the room.

“Help yourself whenever you want,” said Pops, gesturing to a bowl full of candy on the table.

Hang gawked at the wall opposite the sofa. Hanging on the wall was the largest television set she had ever seen.

“And this room over here is just another bathroom,” said Pops, gesturing to another door. “The room beside it just has my weights for working out.”

Hang started to cry. She tried to stop, but she couldn’t help herself.

“What is wrong?” asked Pops.

Hang flung her arms around him and said, “Nothing. It is so much just for me. My tears are happy tears.”

Pops hugged her back and said, “Why don’t you go back upstairs and freshen up? Take a hot bath or a shower. There are clean towels in the bathroom for you. It is also lunchtime. While you’re doing that, I’ll order some pizza.”

Pops stared at Hang for a moment and said, “If you like pizza? Otherwise I can order something else?”

“I like pizza,” said Hang, using her hands to wipe her tears. Later, while gorging herself on pizza, Hang turned to Pops and nervously said, “My father has a phone. He asked that I call him.”

“I think you should. He must be worried.”

“I have not talked to him for six months—no, weeks,” replied Hang. “I worry about my sister and grandmother, too.”

Pops checked his watch and said, “With the time difference, it is now about four in the morning there. Maybe a little early for a call. Let’s wait a few hours.”

Hang nodded in agreement.

Pops spied Hang’s extra thumb and gently reached out and touched it. “I was told about this. Does it cause you pain?”

Hang quickly withdrew her hand from the table and placed it on her lap.

“Please, I did not mean to embarrass you,” said Pops. “I just wondered if it caused you any pain.”

“It does not hurt” replied Hang, matter-of-factly. “Only in my head it hurts. Not real pain.”

Pops smiled knowingly and said, “If you like, in time, I will have a surgeon remove it for you. But that will be your decision. It does not bother me at all.”

Hang smiled and brought her hand back into view. “I think I would like that. To be the same as other children. My sister does not have this problem. She is perfect.”

“Your sister ... I understand the next ship leaves in three days. Do you think she will like it here? I bet you miss her?”

“Yes, very much,” she admitted.

“I hope you will be happy here,” said Pops.

Hang beamed. Words were not necessary.

“Your English is very good, but in a few days we will start you on home-schooling. Right now, I bet you are exhausted.”

Hang smiled and said, “Yes. I am very tired.”

“If you’ve had enough to eat, go to your room and take a nap. I’ll wake you in a couple of hours and then you can call your dad.”

Hang went to her room and climbed into bed. She had never slept in a bed so big. Or on a mattress and pillow that was so soft. Too soft for what she had become used to. She elected instead to lie on the floor and cover herself with a blanket. She fell asleep immediately and slept soundly until she was awakened a few hours later by a gentle knock on her door.

A few minutes later, she sat at the kitchen table with Pops, who picked up a cellphone on the table.

“Do not say anything on the phone about the ship or the name of who smuggled you into the States,” he cautioned. “It is risky for you to call home now, because the American police monitor calls to foreign countries. Especially a communist country like Vietnam.”

“I understand,” said Hang.

“Tell your dad how excited you were to see the American border sign when you arrived. That would be good. If the police are listening, they would think you drove across the border as people are supposed to.”

“Okay,” said Hang.

“Do you think your sister will be happy here? I understand the next ship leaves in three days.”

“It would be an honour for her to be in your house, Mister Pops.”

“I think it would be better for you if she was here. There is another girl that wants to come. It must be decided now. I can only have two girls and I think it better that you have your sister. Don’t you?”

Hang was startled to learn that there was a possibility that another girl may be selected. “Yes, I want my sister,” she said quickly. “She is kind and polite. She will be no trouble for you.”

“Your dad must miss you. Won’t it be nice when he can come and live here, too?”

“You think he can?” asked Hang.

“Not right away. But think about it. You are free to become anything you want in this country. You could become a lawyer if you want. Then you could draw up the papers yourself to allow your father to immigrate here.”

“He really wants to come to America.”

“Good. I think we can risk one call right now. In a couple of weeks, when certain papers are in order, you can use the regular phone in the house and call home whenever you like.”

Hang gave Pops the number and he dialled. “It is ringing,” he said, while passing her the phone.

Hang’s call was an excited combination of tears and laughter as she spoke of her new surroundings and her dreams for the future. Pops was generous with the time she could talk and when she was finished, she had spoken at length with her father, Linh, and even her grandmother.

As soon as she hung up, she felt sorrow. She had never been completely away from her family before. Occasionally, in the past, before her father had become a tourist guide, he had to go away for a couple of weeks to work on farms. Even then, Hang still had Linh, who helped her look after Grandmother.

“You look sad,” commented Pops. “Is everything okay?”

Hang nodded and said, “I am okay. I am only sad because I miss them.”

“That is why I wish your sister had come with you. It would make it easier. Your father was told that.”

Hang’s face brightened and she said, “She will come now. You do not need that other girl. She will start the voyage in three days.”

“That’s great,” said Pops, sounding relieved. “Oh, there is one thing I forgot to show you. It is in case the police should ever come before your papers are in order. I have built a secret room in the basement for you to hide in. Come, I will show it to you.”

chapter four

Jack and Laura started their shift by checking with the property managers of the apartment building that the two Russians lived in. The office was located in the main foyer, next to the front entrance of the apartment building itself.

Jack noticed the building was secure, complete with intercom and security cameras, inside and out. After producing identification, Jack and Laura learned that the actual apartment manager was a retired Vancouver city policeman by the name of Derek. A phone call was placed and Derek soon joined them in the office. He was more than willing to assist.

The lease agreement indicated the names were Petya Globenko and Styopa Ghukov. Their occupation said that they were retired schoolteachers. They had each provided Russian passport numbers for identification. The penthouse suite came with two free underground parking stalls, but the Russians indicated they did not have a car.

“Taxis,” commented Laura. “Makes our job easier.”

“Until you turn a corner and suddenly see three taxis in front of you and have to play the old shell game,” replied Jack.

“They usually use a limo service,” said Derek. “From what I’ve seen, they’re big tippers. I presume they’re dopers?”

“We’re not sure,” said Jack. “We were just given their names and told they were bad guys worth looking into. At this point we don’t know anything about them yet.”

“They speak perfect English,” said Derek. “Petya goes by the name Peter. He’s tall, thin, and has short grey hair and a moustache. Styopa is short, chubby, and has a shaved head. They always pay on time and with cash. Guess I don’t need to tell ya, their place costs a bundle to rent. They fit the profile of dopers.”

“I’ll never keep their names straight,” mumbled Laura, before trying to repeat them in her head.

“How about Moustache Pete and the Fat Man?” suggested Jack.

“That’s easier,” she replied.

“Do you know who they associate with, or if they have many visitors?” asked Jack.

“Not that I’ve really noticed ... but come to think of it,” replied Derek, reaching for a journal on the desk and flipping through some pages. “The building has a party room,” he muttered, gesturing to a room with double doors just across the foyer. “They came to me about a week ago ... yes, here it is. They booked the room for tonight. The party starts at nine o’clock.”

“You free tonight?” asked Jack, looking at Laura.

“You bet,” she replied.

“They’re allowed to come in early to set up,” said Derek, “but are required to have everyone out no later than two. The room holds fifty people easy. There is also an apartment directly above this office that you can rent for a day or two if you have company arriving. It’s right beside the elevators. They booked it also and said it might be used if any of their party guests drink too much.”

“We would really like to see who attends the party,” said Jack.

“If you like, you could sit in here tonight and watch,” suggested Derek. “Whoever comes to the front door will have a key if they’re a tenant. If not, they will have to be buzzed in, either from an apartment or from the party room. If you’re in here watching you’ll be able to see who goes to the party and who is probably just visiting other tenants. We turn off the lights and close the blinds in here at night so nobody would know you were in here. You want a key?”

Jack smiled, held out his hand, and Derek gave him a key to the main entrance of the apartment and a separate key to the office.

“The office one, I would prefer it if you leave it on the desk tonight when you’re done. As far as the key to the main doors goes, you can keep it until you’re finished your investigation.”

“Much appreciated,” said Jack. “I notice you have security cameras. If need be, could we get a copy later to see who attends the party?”

“That could be arranged. We only hang on to them for a week.”

“Long enough for us to decide if we need them. One more thing.”

“What’s that?” asked Derek.

“What’s your favourite brand of poison?”

Derek smiled and said, “Thanks, but no. I don’t drink anymore. Since I’ve quit the job, I haven’t had to. Anything I can do to help you catch bad guys is fun enough.”

Back at the office, Jack called a contact and learned that the cellphone being used by the Russians was listed to a massage parlour in Surrey called the Orient Pleasure. As the day progressed, he also obtained a list of phone numbers that had been dialled from the cellphone within the last month.

Jack made a photocopy of the list and handed it to Laura and said, “Check out who the Canadian numbers are registered to. There are a lot of area codes here I don’t recognize. I’ll ...”

“What are you two up to?” asked Quaile, entering their office.

Jack glanced at him and said, “Laura and I are working on a pair of Russians.”

“What are they involved in?”

“Not sure yet, we’re just getting started.”

“We’re a little too busy, don’t you think, to be working on people when you don’t know what they’re even involved in?”

“We know they’ve met with the higher echelon of Satans Wrath. We think they’re worth looking at.”

“Satans Wrath again? Still working on bums, I see. Well, keep me apprised.” With that comment, he turned and sauntered back to his own office.

“What was that all about?” wondered Jack.

“Maybe he’s decided to take an interest in police work,” suggested Laura.

“As long as we dress like we’re going to church and don’t claim overtime, he’s never cared before.”

Jack shrugged off Quaile’s intrusion and checked to see who owned the Orient Pleasure. It was listed under the name of Tran Dúc, who, Jack discovered, lived in a house in Surrey. A further inquiry revealed that Dúc had a lengthy criminal record for assault, armed robbery, keeping a common bawdy-house and extortion. Most of the convictions were more than six years old and there was nothing recent.

As the day progressed, Jack and Laura discovered that many of the numbers called from the Russians’ cellphone were to such places as Afghanistan, Russia, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Thailand, Vietnam, and Korea. A couple of others were to Sweden.

“These guys work for the United Nations?” joked Laura.

“Afghanistan is a great country to go to if you want to buy a couple of tonnes of heroin,” replied Jack. “Some of these Arab and Asian countries could be smuggling routes.”

“Makes sense,” said Laura, thoughtfully.

“It would, except that why would it make our friend nervous? You think he’d be glad to cut himself a piece of the action.”

“Either that, or simply kill them if they’re too much competition,” said Laura.

“Exactly. I’m going to pass some of these numbers on to Interpol. See what pops up.”

“Don’t hold your breath waiting.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“It will be interesting to see who shows up at the party tonight,” said Laura.

“If any Arab women show up, do you have a burka you could put on, so you could slide in and mingle?”

Laura glanced at him and said, “Excellent idea. And you could put on a pair of donkey ears and come along as an ass. Oh ...” Laura paused and continued, “maybe you don’t need the ears.”

Jack brayed like a donkey and they both laughed.

Hang followed Pops back down to the basement. Pops gestured to the walls with his hand and said, “Watch this.”

Hang saw that the upper half of the basement walls were covered in wood panelling, while the lower half of the walls consisted of dark brown boards that framed large, square pieces of brown panelling.

Pops pushed on a segment of the dark brown board and Hang heard a metallic click. A magnetic latch behind the panel opened to allow the panel to protrude slightly from the wall. Pops pulled on it to release the rest of the magnetic latch and a thick square section in the wall opened up to reveal a passageway.

“See how it is done?” asked Pops. “There is a wooden handle on the back of the door for you to pull shut after you go inside. I do not think you will ever have to use this room, but it is good to be safe.” Pops demonstrated once more, by closing and opening the door again.

“I understand,” said Hang, admiring how perfect the wall looked when the secret door was closed.

“Follow me,” said Pops, crouching down as he took a few steps into the passageway.

Hang followed, pausing briefly as Pops reminded her to close the door behind her. After, she turned and accepted Pops’s hand to stand up as she entered the secret room.

Pops flicked the switch on the wall and a bright overhead light recessed behind wire mesh in the ceiling lit up the small room. Hundreds of shiny brass-coloured screws shone down from where the bare plywood was screwed to the ceiling. The walls and floor were covered in crimson enamel paint.

Hang saw a toilet in the centre of the room, close to a sponge mattress on the floor. On one wall was a large calendar. How long do I have to hide if the police come? The room was dank and musty. Hang shivered and saw a propane bottle attached to a portable heater sitting beside one wall. It was not turned on.

“Nobody would ever find me in here,” said Hang.

“That’s right. They won’t,” nodded Pops with satisfaction.

Everything made sense to Hang except for one thing. Two piles of chains lay on the floor on each side of the room. She walked over and picked up a handful of chain and asked, “What is this for?”

Pops just smiled.

She saw that one end of the chain was bolted to a metal ring on the floor ... and she spotted the shackle on the end that dangled in her hand. Fear gripped her body like a vice as she slowly turned her head to stare up at Pops.

“Put it on,” he said. His voice was menacing as he loomed over her, threatening her with a fist.

Hang shook her head, too frightened to speak. She stepped back and quickly tried to swing the chain at Pops’s face, but he grabbed her around the throat with one hand, smashing her down on the floor and landing on top of her.

Hang tried to yell and clawed frantically at the hand squeezing her throat. He grabbed at her fingers with his other hand. She heard a sound like the crunch of celery and felt the searing pain in her fingers when he snapped them backwards.

Hang writhed and kicked out violently with her feet. Pops punched her hard in the side of her ribs. She continued to squirm and gasped at the intense pain in her side with every breath she took. His next punch buried deep into her stomach, forcing what air she had to come gurgling past the hand clamped to her throat and out through her mouth and nose.

She realized Pops was standing at the opposite end of the room with a bemused look on his face. She leapt to her feet and dashed toward the passage door. The chain went taut and she fell on her hands and knees, far short of her goal. It was then that she looked down at the shackle chained to her ankle and realized that she had been unconscious.

Hang knew she had nothing to lose and screamed as loud as she could, while cringing and waiting for the next attack.

Pops did not move. Instead of trying to silence her, he started to laugh. She screamed again and again ...

“Go ahead!” yelled Pops. “Louder! Louder!” he shouted with glee. His laughter and Hang’s screams filled the room. “Come on, you can do it!” he shouted. “Let me hear you scream!”

Hang’s screams eventually became hoarse rasping cries of anguish. She stopped and held her face in her hands, before dropping to her knees on the floor and sobbing.

“Please, Mister Pops,” she cried. “No. Why are you doing this to me? Please let me go.”

“Maybe some day I will,” he said. “Or maybe I won’t.”

Pops took a red felt marker from his pocket and with a smile at Hang and a flourish of his arm, circled a date on the calendar that was exactly two weeks away. He made three more circles on the calendar in the week following the first circle.

“You will have two weeks for behaviour modification,” he said. “These circles represent something special. There will be a different surprise for you on each red-circle day.”

Pops hesitated as his hand hovered near the light switch and said, “I’ll leave this on. Have a good sleep.” He ducked into the passageway and Hang heard the click and the creak of the secret door as it opened and closed behind him.

She immediately got to her feet and walked to see how far the chain would let her go. She could just reach the centre of the room where the toilet and mattress were. She carefully checked out the chain where it was attached to the floor. There was nothing she could break or undo.

She hopelessly looked around before sitting on the floor, using a loop of chain to smash at the padlock. She tore the skin on her leg and bruised her ankle before giving up.

She started to cry and sobbed uncontrollably as she crawled over to the toilet and dipped her broken fingers in the water. The coolness of the water did little to soothe her. Eventually she quit crying and stared blankly at the calendar on the wall. What does it mean? What surprises do the red circles hold?

As her eyes settled on the other pile of chain on the far side of the room, her terror reached a new crescendo.

chapter five

“You there, Jack?” whispered Laura, from where she sat in the darkened room of the property manager’s corner office. The blinds were open just enough to give her a glimpse of the entranceway outside, as well as a view of the main doors to the party room across the foyer.

Jack was parked out on the street and sat slouched in the passenger seat of the car. From the perspective of anyone walking by, it would appear that he was waiting for the driver to return.

He clicked the transmit button on the police radio and said, “Copy. Go ahead.”

“Moustache Pete and the Fat Man are just opening up the doors to the room. They’re each carrying a case of vodka. Looks like they expect a few people tonight.”

“Ten-four. Over an hour to go before the party is supposed to start,” observed Jack.

Minutes later, Jack watched as a taxi van pulled into the crescent-shaped driveway in front of the apartment building and parked under the awning in front of the main doors. He reached for the binoculars.

“Got it, Jack,” came Laura’s voice. “Can see the plate from here. Oh, it’s a taxi.”

Jack watched as seven young women exited the taxi. They were all smartly dressed and wore high heels. Two of them wore coats that were trimmed with fur. The other coats appeared to be made of wool.

Despite the cool February night, their coats were open and Jack could see that they all wore skirts. They also had something else in common. They were extremely beautiful. Three of them were blondes, the others were brunettes.

Laura remained still and heard the women chatting as they buzzed the intercom.

“There’s no answer,” one woman said.

“Try again. These guys have used our agency before.”

“You’ve worked here before?”

“Oh, yeah. I call them Nikolai and Doctor Zhivago. They like that. Both pigs, but if you make them happy, they’re not afraid to open their wallets wide for a tip. Here, let me try the party room.”

Seconds later the women were buzzed in and Laura saw the two Russians come to the entrance to the party room and wave them over.

“Escort service,” Laura relayed to Jack. “Maybe the party is starting sooner than we thought,” replied Jack.

Laura watched as the two Russians carefully examined the women, before taking one on each arm and heading for the elevator. The other three escorts remained in the party room.

“Our boys aren’t greedy,” radioed Laura.

“How so?” asked Jack.

“They only picked two each and headed up to their room. Must be saving the other three for later.”

An hour later, the entourage from upstairs returned. One woman made a motion to re-button the top of her blouse but the Fat Man playfully slapped her hand away. He laughed and shook his finger and said, “No, no, no. I like to look.”

Laura noticed that both Russians had changed their clothes and were now wearing expensive-looking shoes, slacks, and silk shirts open at the neck.

The next hour went by relatively quietly and a mixture of men and women started to arrive. As this happened, Jack would walk down the sidewalk while using the voice-activated tape recorder in his inside jacket pocket to record license plates. When people entered the apartment, Laura confirmed who was of interest and who wasn’t. In the end, Jack had recorded over two-dozen license plates and he estimated that, with the taxis included, approximately forty to forty-five people were at the party.

Several hours passed and Laura whispered into her radio, “Jack, just to let you know that the apartment above me is being used ... about half an hour at a time.”

“The seven escorts?”

“So far, five of them. Five different guys, too.”

“Special guests getting their treats upstairs,” radioed Jack. “Let me know when they leave. I’ll try to identify them.”

“Getting their treats? Is that what you call it? You must have been very disappointed as a kid on Halloween—stand by! Three of the guys who were treated upstairs are now giving Moustache Pete a hug at the door ... he’s kissing each one on the cheek. The three of them are heading for the entrance now. You can’t miss them. They’re all Asians and looking a little whiskied. Incidentally, all of them preferred blondes.”

Jack had no trouble following the three men and was pleased to see that they each drove away in separate cars. He recorded three licence plates, ones he had seen earlier, as now being of particular significance.

The other two men who had been entertained upstairs eventually left separately. The first one drove away in a Jaguar while the second drove off in a Porsche. Jack didn’t need to double check these plates. He had remembered them from when they first arrived.

It was three o’clock in the morning when Jack dropped Laura off at her car to drive home.

“Something was really out of place at the party tonight,” said Laura.

“That being?” asked Jack.

“All the guests. With the exception of the seven hookers who arrived first, everyone else was either dressed—or acted—like lower-class hoods and gangsters.”

“Hoods and gangsters ... there’s an old expression. You been watching The Untouchables again?”

“You know what I mean. Walking around with real attitude. Wearing too much gold jewellery. Doused in enough aftershave to make you gag.”

“You smelled aftershave? Did you go inside?”

“Didn’t have to. I could smell it coming through under the door.”

“Good. Don’t know how long we’ll be working on these guys. I don’t want them seeing our faces until absolutely necessary.”

Laura nodded in agreement and continued, “I guess all I’m saying is I wonder why the Russians would hang out with these guys?”

“Maybe it’s strictly business? Nothing to do with friendship.”

“Maybe.”

“High-class hookers. I would say it was a corporate party. Likely celebrating something. Wish we knew what.”

“Two of the hookers were never used, although our Russian friends always had one latched to their arm all night.”

“Big egos require a big show. We’ll find out about the guests tomorrow when we run the plates,” said Jack.

It was four in the morning when Jack slipped into bed beside Natasha and gently kissed her on her bare shoulder before pulling the blanket higher. She rolled over to face him and lay with her head on his chest.

Jack felt her hand slowly drift up the inside of his thigh and tilted his pelvis slightly while unconsciously opening his mouth in the expectation of pleasure. She stopped and moments later her breathing indicated that she had gone back to sleep. Jack let out a sigh and tried to relax. It took him over an hour to get to sleep.

It was nine o’clock at night in Hanoi when Bien felt Linh’s skinny arms squeezing his lungs. She was clinging to his waist while he pedalled his bicycle. It made taking deep breaths difficult, but he didn’t mind. They were plenty early to meet the van.

Eventually, Bien pulled up to the appointed location and carried his bicycle up onto the sidewalk while Linh carried the plastic bag containing her clothes.

“Forty minutes early,” said Bien.

“I do not think the American lady will be happy to see me,” sniffled Linh.

“And why not?” asked Bien, although he knew what the response would be before he asked.

“I have no gift to give her.”

“We do not have the money for two gifts. The pearl necklace cost much money. It is worthy of being a gift from the both of you.”

“Maybe Hang forgot to say so.”

“Do you really think she would do such a thing? Leave her little sister out?”

Linh put her head down and said, “No. I do not think that.”

“There is something you have to give that is much more precious than a stone from some oyster,” said Bien.

“What is that?” asked Linh with surprise.

“Your smile, little one,” answered Bien sincerely. “I would not trade your smile for all the pearls in Ha Long Bay.”

Linh tried to frown as she looked up at her father, but there was a twinkle in her eye and she soon smiled and giggled.

At nine years old, some might have found her mixture of baby teeth and adult teeth somewhat less than attractive, but to Bien it was a beautiful smile.

chapter six

The next day Jack identified the three Asians from the party and did background research on them while Laura looked into the backgrounds of the two men they referred to as Mister Porsche and Mister Jaguar.

Jack discovered that the three Asians were Vietnamese brothers who were the owners of two massage parlours. One massage parlour was called The Asian Touch and was one-third owned by each of the brothers. Their given names were Dúc, Húu, and Thao. Their family name was Tran. Dúc was also the sole owner of the Orient Pleasure, the establishment to which the Russians’ cellphone was registered.

Húu and Thao did not have criminal records, but Jack learned that the Combined Forces Special Enforcement Unit had encountered one of the brothers on an investigation two years previous.

Jack told Laura the information and she groaned.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I’ll never keep these guys straight,” she said.

“I think the important one to remember is Dúc,” said Jack. “He owns part of what his brothers have, plus the Orient Pleasure, where the Russians’ phone is registered. He’s also the one with a criminal record.”

“So it’s Dúc and his brothers.”

“For now. Incidentally, if you ever read or hear their names someplace, the Vietnamese put their family name first, followed by their middle name, and then their given name. Formally, they address each other by their given name. I would be known as Taggart, Bruce Jack, and if formally addressed, would be called Mister Jack.”

“Okay, Mister Jack, so neither of the two brothers have any criminal history?”

“No convictions, but Thao was the owner of a couple of rental properties where the Vietnamese tenants had grow-ops. They were taken down two years ago by CFSEU.”

“Doesn’t take these guys long to learn about B.C. bud,” said Laura.

“How are you making out with Mister Porsche and Mister Jaguar?” asked Jack.

“They are both well known,” replied Laura. “No convictions, but I just got off the phone with Drugs. Mister Porsche beat an importation charge a few years ago when he tried to smuggle a boatload of hash into B.C. He beat the rap in court by claiming that the dope was on its way to Alaska and that a storm blew them into Canadian waters. The judge said there was no intent to commit a crime in Canada. Mister Jaguar is a major cocaine dealer but has never been caught.”

“Jag and Porsche work together?”

Laura shook her head. “Not as far as any records show. They appear to be independent of each other.”

“Our Russians are the common denominator,” declared Jack.

“I’ve also checked for criminal records on the rest of the partygoers,” said Laura. “Lots with criminal records, but all minor stuff. Low-level drug dealers, that type of thing.”

“I think our Russians were just throwing their version of an office party,” said Jack. “I doubt that any of these people are really their friends.”

“So where do you want to go from here?”

“For now, concentrate our time on the Russians. If we lose them, then we’ll work on Dúc as a backup.”

“Sounds good.”

“I’m going to give VPD a call and see what they have on these guys. The Asian Touch is in their turf.”

Jack’s phone call to the Vancouver City Police soon found him transferred around where he ended up speaking to Detective Rocco Pasquali of the Anti-Gang Unit.

Jack had met Pasquali on past investigations and knew him as a good cop who was not afraid to work. More importantly, he didn’t let inter-agency rivalry affect his work. All he wanted was for bad guys to go to jail.

“The Tran brothers are well known to us,” said Pasquali. “Guess I don’t need to tell you that the massage parlours are just a front for prostitution, but there’s a lot more to him than that. Dúc expanded his operation out to Surrey last year.”

“The Orient Delight,” said Jack.

“You got it. Physically, he’s a small man. A good fart would probably knock him over, but he’s got the power. He heads a Vietnamese gang of at least fifty. They’re into just about everything. Extortion, robberies, drugs, juvenile prostitution ... you name it. They’re extremely violent. Not afraid to take a machete to someone just for making eye contact with them.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Lately, the asshole has insulated himself enough as to be basically untouchable. His top lieutenant is a guy by the name of Giang. A real psychopath. I mean that. He deals coke at the pound level. He came to Canada when he was seven. I really think the Vietnam War did something to him before he came over. He really is one disturbed individual.”

“So Giang gets his coke from Dúc?”

“No, Giang freelances that on his own. Dúc uses him more as an enforcer and to keep his girls in line. The two don’t hang together as friends. Giang uses a place called Lucky Lucy’s Bar and Grill as his base of operations. That’s downtown here in Vancouver, on Kingsway, close to The Asian Touch.”

“Any other hangouts?” asked Jack.

“There is also a restaurant close to Lucky Lucy’s called the Mekong Palace. The owner of the Mekong is a nice old guy. Doesn’t want these guys in there but doesn’t have much choice. If Giang is not at any of these places, he usually can be found hanging out with the other punks in Dúc’s gang at Billiard Bill’s out in Surrey. That place is just a block down the street from the Orient Pleasure.”

“I really appreciate this, Rocco.”

“No sweat. I’ll send a copy of everything we have on this group over to you. You need a hand with anything—surveillance, takedowns, you name it—give me a call. Day or night, doesn’t matter.”

“Sounds like you want him bad,” said Jack.

“I do. Dúc’s gang ... half of it is composed of juveniles, for Christ’s sake.”

“Their conscience isn’t as developed. They don’t think of the real consequences of their actions. Explains the extreme violence.”

“Yeah, and they’re more easily influenced and brainwashed ... and usually get probation. You catch Dúc and there’s a bottle of tequila in it for you.”

“Thanks. Actually I’ve switched to gin martinis.”

“Catch him,” said Rocco, “and I’ll be buying the gin.”

“No reward for Giang?” asked Jack.

Rocco chuckled and said, “What are you trying to do, bleed me dry? Giang’s not real smart. He’s been caught before. Unfortunately he’s smart enough not to cross Dúc.”

“Tell you what,” said Jack. “When I nail Dúc, you buy the gin and I’ll bring the vermouth. If I happen to nail Giang along the way, then you can bring the olives, too.”

“That’s a deal!”

The next week and a half went by quickly for Jack and Laura. They focused their energy by doing surveillance of the Russians while doing intermittent surveillance on Dúc.

Dúc had a routine of sleeping in late and then going to the Orient Pleasure for an hour over lunch. He would generally spend the rest of his day and evening at the Great Canadian Casino in Coquitlam. His skill as a gambler left much to be desired.

Surveillance of the Russians showed that they varied their sleep patterns. Sometimes they would appear early in the morning and go to a restaurant for breakfast. On these occasions, Jack surmised that they had not been to bed yet, or, at least judging by the escorts that left the building moments before they appeared, they had not been to sleep yet.

Other times the Russians would not appear until early afternoon, when they would go and drink espresso in different restaurants. At night, they would throw their money around at various nightclubs or go to more expensive restaurants. If they didn’t pick up any women at the nightclubs, they would often call an escort service when they returned to their penthouse.

Hang lay on her side on the foam mattress, staring at the calendar. Pops never shut the light off and she found herself switching her attention back and forth between the calendar and the chain and shackle at the opposite end of the room.

Now she felt so weak that she could barely move. Going by the large X marks that Pops penciled on the calendar each day, she had been there thirteen days. She had been given a plastic cup to drink water from out of the toilet tank. The only food she had been given was one loaf of white bread.

Her fingers had quit throbbing, but any attempt to move them brought immediate pain. The same went for her ribs and she had learned to take shallow breaths.

On the first night she was chained, Pops had returned and flung all her clothes and belongings at her. The room had a high humidity and at first when she wore her new coat she was too warm, but now she felt weak and shivered constantly.

Pops would see her for a few minutes each morning and again at night. Except for hurting her the first night, he had not actually touched her.

One night he dragged a garden hose through the passageway and said he was going to give her a shower. Despite the incredible shame she felt at undressing in front of him, her fear made her obey and she squatted obediently on the floor and tried to cover herself with her hands.

“You are a filthy, worthless little child,” he said. “No wonder your father gave you away,” he said as he urinated on her, before taking the hose and spraying cold water into her face.

Every time Hang heard the familiar creak of the passage door, she automatically cringed and drew her knees up into the fetal position as she waited for Pops to enter, mark the X on the calendar, and announce how many days were left until “red-circle day.”

Tonight was different. Pops shoved a large cardboard box ahead of him through the passageway opening and set it down out of Hang’s reach. The box was big enough that it could have held an object the size of a kitchen chair.

“There are special things in here for you,” said Pops. He marked another X on the calendar and said, “Things for red-circle days. As you can see, the first such day is tomorrow.”

Hang didn’t respond, but just stared at him from where she lay.

“What do you think is in the box?” asked Pops.

Hang continued to stare.

Pops tone turned to anger and he said, “Well, you’ve got twenty-four hours to think about it!”

Hang closed her eyes and, a moment later, she heard the creak of the door as Pops left her alone. She immediately got to her feet and got as close to the box as her chain would permit, but she was too far away to see inside it. She went back to her mattress, sat, and stared at the box.

What does it mean? She looked at the calendar again. Four more weeks and Linh will be here ... and I told her to come!

Hang cried in anguish. Eventually she caught her breath between sobs and looked at the calendar. Tomorrow is the first red-circle day. There are more circles later. What do they mean?

chapter seven

I t was eight o’clock at night when Jack and Laura saw the Russians return to one of their favourite restaurants.

Jack lowered his binoculars and said, “Table for two. Doesn’t look like they expect any company. Let’s knock it off and go home and introduce ourselves to our spouses.”

“Looking for a treat, are you?”

Jack chuckled and said, “Something like that.”

“Well, I figure we’re likely wasting our time out here at the moment.”

“Something is going on with these two,” said Jack. “Retired schoolteachers don’t have that kind of money to throw around. Not to mention they had the clout to meet with the top exec of Satans Wrath.”

“I’m not saying we shouldn’t work on them. I know the type. Whatever they’re involved in is big enough that they aren’t standing on the corner dealing ounces. Working on this type ... it’s always peaks and valleys.”

“And right now we’re in a valley,” said Jack. “What we really need is an informant. Someone on the inside.”

“Who and how?”

“Don’t know yet. Tomorrow I’m going to go to a bookstore. Start learning a little Russian and Vietnamese. Will help build a rapport if we do find someone to turn. Besides, it’ll give me something to read when we’re on surveillance.”

It was midnight when Jack glanced out of the ensuite bathroom just as Natasha was getting into bed.

“How good is your Russian?” he asked. “Could you teach me some?”

“With a name like Natasha Trovinski, how good do you think it is?”

“I don’t really know. I’ve heard you talk to your parents.”

“Lazhites’ syooda,” she replied.

“What did you say?”

“Lay down over here.”

“That sounds real good to me!”

The next afternoon Jack and Laura watched as the Russians left their apartment and got into a waiting limousine-styled taxi. They followed them to a location on the west end of Vancouver where the Russians had the limo wait as they went into a store. Laura stayed in the car while Jack took a portable police radio and went on foot.

Jack returned a few minutes later just as the Russians were returning to the limo.

Jack grinned at Laura and said, “They popped into a store called West Marine. They were asking for marine charts for around Seattle. The clerk said they didn’t carry any for Puget Sound. They only carried charts for places north of the forty-ninth.”

“They’re looking for a place to bring a boat in,” said Laura.

“Definitely. Our friend wouldn’t help them with the Vancouver Port so now they’re checking other possibilities.”

“Seattle!” said Laura. “Are they nuts? With what’s going on in the world these days I wouldn’t want to get caught smuggling something into that area. The Americans are liable to shoot first without ever asking any questions.”

Jack’s call to the DEA came up empty. He looked at Laura and said, “They’ve never heard of them. If something crops up, they said they’d call.”

“You two!” said Quaile. “Are they not paying you enough?”

Jack looked up to see Quaile standing in the open doorway. He had his hands on his hips and was staring at the both of them.

“My salary is adequate,” replied Jack.

“Then tell me why you’ve worn the same tie for three days in a row? Not to mention your shirt looks like you’ve slept in it! Laura, you’re not much better. With Jack, somehow I’m not surprised, but with you, I am very disappointed.”

Quaile stared briefly at Laura. If he was expecting to see a look of embarrassment he didn’t. Her look was that of utter contempt.

“I can only imagine that you are being unduly influenced,” he added. “From now on, and until I say otherwise, I want to see the both of you in my office at o-eight-hundred every morning. If you’re not suitably attired, or look shoddy in any way, I’ll send you home to change. You got that?”

“Come on, Staff,” said Jack. “We’ve been doing a lot of surveillance. Bound to get a few wrinkles. Sorry about the tie. I’ll increase my wardrobe, but ...”

“But nothing! Looking sharp is critical to success.”

“I was going to say,” continued Jack, “that the criminals we work on don’t work eight to four shifts—let alone wear suits and ties.”

“That is another thing! I’ve seen your reports. You’re working on a pair of Russians that have no criminal history and who aren’t doing anything.”

“They’re also connected to a Vietnamese gang,” said Jack, “who have a criminal history of ...”

“Half of which are children! My God! It’s me that has to sign off on the bottom of your reports. I’m embarrassed to be sending them forward.”

“Children are being used,” said Jack, assertively. “All the more reason to nail these guys for turning these kids in the first place.”

Quaile stared blankly at him.

“You must admit,” continued Jack, “you’re relatively new to this section. Give us a chance. We’ll get results and then you’ll see the bigger picture. You’ll understand how the tentacles of organized crime work.”

Quaile acted like he didn’t hear. “Eight o’clock tomorrow morning!”

“Staff, you’re being obtuse,” said Jack, louder than he had intended. “Laura and I are working our asses off here. We don’t need ...”

“Obtuse!” sputtered Quaile, before turning on his heel and retreating back to his office.

“Well, I think that went well, don’t you?” said Laura quietly after he left.

“I’m not sure,” replied Jack, taking a deep breath. “Perhaps it’s that sixth sense I’ve developed as an operator, but I have a feeling that he wasn’t entirely happy with us.”

“I sort of detected that, too. Any suggestions? Box of chocolates or something?”

“I was thinking more of throwing a shovel in the trunk and looking for a cemetery.”

“Shoot, shovel, and shut up,” commented Laura.

Jack sighed and said, “I’ve seen his type before. All he wants is to climb the corporate ladder. He won’t be here long. Try and humour him. With his background in Commercial Crime, it may take a while to educate him.”

“I think you’re giving him too much credit.”

“We’ll get results soon. That should open his eyes and give him perspective.”

Laura made a fist and said, “I think I’d rather shut his eyes.”

Hang watched fearfully as Pops entered the room. He smiled when he saw her eyes dart from the cardboard box back to him.

“That’s right,” he said. “This is your first red-circle day—but every red-circle day will be different.” Pops lit the propane heater for the first time. Within seconds, Hang could feel the heat start to engulf the room.

Pops peered in the cardboard box. He glanced at Hang and smiled. She heard the sound of metal objects as his hand moved around inside the box. He took out five candles and placed them around the room while lighting them.

Hang stared at him when he flicked off the lights. His eyes glimmered as shadows danced across his face from the glow of the candles and the heater.

Without a word, he disappeared back out into the passageway, only to return a few seconds later carrying a circular cardboard carton. Hang did not need to ask what was inside it. The smell of fried chicken permeated every corner of the room and she immediately began to salivate.

Pops handed her the carton. On top were paper napkins and she tossed them aside and tore the lid off, grabbing the chicken with her hands and eating as fast as she could.

Pops sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder and said, “It is all yours. Eat as much as you like. Take your time, there are fries in there as well.”

Hang continued to eat, but soon found that she was full. Her stomach had shrunk and the food soon gave her cramps.

“Wipe your hands on the napkin.”

Hang did as instructed.

“It is too hot in here now,” said Pops as he got up and shut the heater off. “Much too hot,” he said, taking off his shirt to expose his bare chest as he strut back across the room.

He smiled down at Hang while slowly flexing one bicep at a time before sitting down beside her. She felt his hand on the back of her head and tensed as he drew her toward him.

“You will kiss me now,” he said. “On my stomach ... just below my belly button.”

Hang nodded obediently and put her head down, grabbing a fold of skin around his navel with her hand, before sinking her teeth into it.

Pops roared, punching her on the side of the head and knocking her over as he leapt to his feet.

“You filthy little bitch!” he screamed, kicking her in the stomach. “You do not appreciate my generosity!” he yelled.

Hang was too frightened to notice the blood dripping from her ear as she curled up in a ball on the mattress before vomiting.

Pops turned on the light and then extinguished the candles before throwing them back in the box. He left the room, only to return with a pair of pliers.

chapter eight

Early one afternoon Jack and Laura followed the Russians as they left their apartment building and walked a few blocks to a pay phone. Moustache Pete gestured to the phone and reached into his pocket and looked at his change. Fat Man did likewise and pointed at a nearby confectionary.

“This could be good,” said Jack. “Pay phone call instead of using their cell. They’re up to something.”

“It’s too deserted there to stand nearby and listen,” noted Laura. “They’d make us.”

“Wait here,” said Jack, before darting over to the telephone.

Now what’s he up to? Laura spotted the Russians coming back out of the confectionary store, but it was apparent that Jack had already seen them and was moving off farther down the street.

The Russians used the pay phone again before walking back toward their apartment building. Moments later, Jack returned.

“Let’s see what we got,” he said, holding up his voice-activated tape recorder.

“You just did an illegal wiretap,” said Laura. Her comment was said more in surprise than it was to rebuke.

“I would never do that,” replied Jack. “I was just going to use the phone and accidentally forgot my recorder when I was there. Glad I remembered it.”

“Right, do you think you’re talking to Quaile or Internal? Come on, let’s see what’s on it! Hope they spoke English.”

“If they didn’t, I’ll call Natasha.”

English was spoken, but between passing cars and the muffled-sounding voice of Moustache Pete, much of the conversation was missing. Two things were heard. It was evident that a meeting was to take place in Costa Rica within the next two weeks. Moustache Pete also said, “The shipment will be as white as snow.”

“Bingo! Coke shipment,” said Laura.

“For sure. Let’s go back to the office. I’ve got the pay phone number. Let’s find out who he called.”

“Glad you’re back,” said Quaile, motioning them into his office. “Have a seat,” he said, sounding friendly.

“We just got something on the Russians,” said Jack. “I happened to overhear them at a pay phone. It sounds like they’re planning to bring a boatload of coke up through Costa Rica.”

“Oh, good,” said Quaile. “Pass it on to Drug Section. I’ve got ...”

“We haven’t reached that stage yet,” said Jack. “We need to ...”

“Don’t interrupt me,” responded Quaile with a noticeable chill to his voice. “This office is done working on degenerates. We’re stepping things up around here. I just got off the phone with Inspector Penn at Commercial Crime. They have a huge stock manipulation case on the go. He said he would be glad to get the extra help.”

“Stock manipulation,” said Jack. “That should be left up to Commercial Crime. The organized crime we target is ...”

“Considering you work on an Intelligence Unit,” said Quaile, “I’m astounded at your lack of knowledge. Perhaps you should review what organized crime is. The Canadian Intelligence Service of Canada says that it is two or more persons consorting together on a continuing basis to participate in illegal activities.”

“Yes,” replied Jack. “The Criminal Code, which is more suited for the RCMP, defines it as three or more persons. But that is not the point. I am personally familiar with real organized crime. It ...”

“Then you will appreciate that your new assignment is within our mandate! I’m sure they appreciate our offer to assist.”

“They never even asked for assistance?” said Jack, angrily. “You just decided to call and butt in?”

“These are white collar criminals. Something far more appropriate for our section to be dealing with. Not drugs or the dirty people you seem to prefer.” Quaile glowered at Jack and said, “I’m sure you pick on them because of their lower intelligence and it is no doubt easy, but those days are over. If you’re not capable of catching the smart crooks then I would suggest that you consider a transfer elsewhere.”

“Staff, please. The Russians are big fish. They’re planning to go to Costa Rica within the next two weeks. Laura and I should go.”

“Absolutely not! As of this moment, you are finished with them. Pass what you have over to Drug Section.”

“We need to do more background work first. Just two more weeks.”

“I said no! I’m done for the day. I expect to see you in this office tomorrow morning at o-eight-hundred. Now leave!”

“That son of a bitch!” Laura muttered when they returned to their own office.

Jack glanced at Laura. Swearing for her was most unusual. Her face had gone a blotchy red, which looked all the worse under the red highlights in her chestnut-coloured hair.

“Quaile wants me out of here,” said Jack. “I don’t know why, but he does. Maybe that’s what this is all about.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You heard his jab about my abilities and his suggestion I should consider a transfer elsewhere. For some reason, he’s got me in his sights.”

“Maybe because you’d rather catch bad guys than shine shoes or kiss butt.”

“Whatever, but he’s the boss. My annual assessment is also overdue. I can just imagine what that will be like.”

“What can we do?”

“We need to show him that the Russians are big time. Prove that they’re international players. Then maybe he’ll see the light of day.”

“He said not to work on them anymore.”

“I know ... and I know it’s a lot to ask, but for the next week or two, if we work on them non-stop, we’ll prove it. Only come to the office for our morning inspection and then get back out there.”

“We can’t. He won’t let us.”

Jack shook his head and said, “There are always guys like Quaile around. That’s usually the biggest challenge in catching bad guys. We just have to get him to give us more time.”

“How? He won’t listen to us.” Laura saw a smile creep across Jack’s face. “Don’t tell me you have friends in high places, like Ottawa?”

Jack looked at her and shook his head and said, “But I do have friends. I’ll see what influence I can dredge up. At this point I have nothing to lose.”

“I can’t see Quaile ever changing his mind.”

“See what happens tomorrow morning,” said Jack. “Make sure you’re in his office at eight. You won’t want to miss it.”

chapter nine

Bien’s brain didn’t want to accept the message that he got from the smuggler in Hanoi. His worst fears were realized. The smuggler’s words whirled around in his head like a voice that he couldn’t stop.

Hang died in a car accident when she was crossing the street. Most unfortunate. She is an illegal. They can’t get her body. Too many people would be arrested. It would even jeopardize the others when they arrive.

Bien had gasped as he heard the words. The smuggler had continued to speak. Traffic in America is very fast. You have caused the American family much pain. You should have taught Hang to be more careful when crossing the street. You are lucky that they are still willing to accept Linh ....

Now, Bien sat on the floor with his mother. They had plastic chairs inside their room, but Bien’s mother always preferred to sit Vietnamese-style on the floor with her legs tucked under.

Bien held the black and white photocopy of Hang and Linh standing in front of The One Pillar Pagoda. Minutes later, he put it down on the floor in front of him, afraid that his tears would damage the picture.

Bien knew that his mother had barely survived the war. She had experienced more pain and death in her life than any human should have to endure. He had believed she was incapable of crying anymore, her well of tears run dry. But now, her eyes were wet and she rocked back and forth, her arms folded across her chest and her hands resting on her shoulders.

Bien thought about Linh. He wanted to be the one to tell her, but he knew it wouldn’t be possible. She would be devastated. Mister and Missus Pops ... they too must feel the grief ... and in three weeks, when Linh arrived, they would have the unpleasant task of telling her that her sister is dead.

At seven-thirty in the morning Jack and Laura were on their way to work, unaware that at the same moment, Dúc was picking up the two Russians in front of their apartment building.

The three men went to a restaurant to discuss business over breakfast.

“We have been checking,” said Moustache Pete. “There are many places a ship could come in undetected.”

“But it was only a fishing boat going out to sea,” said Dúc. “My man has his own fishing boat there and his house for the passengers. It is much easier.”

“And if the men on the fishing boat that saw the ship unloading have talked, what then? Next time the police could be waiting.”

“It is a small town. The fishermen all know each other. My man says he would have heard something if that were true. Next time, if the ship were to come in two hours earlier, there would be nobody around to see.”

Moustache Pete and the Fat Man looked at each other and nodded in agreement. “Okay, we do it the same way next time, but if the load is lost, it is you that must pay.”

“I understand. It will not be lost.”

“The money?” said the Fat Man, gesturing to an attaché case that Dúc carried.

Dúc nodded and passed it over.

“All there?” asked the Fat Man.

“Yes.... No!” replied Dúc.

“What do you mean?” asked Moustache Pete. “Is it, or isn’t it?”

“All there except for the young girl. I forgot to pick that up.”

“Ah, our insurance policy,” said Moustache Pete with a smile as he looked at the Fat Man.

“Insurance policy?” asked Dúc.

“Just a joke between the two of us,” replied Moustache Pete.

“The money is arranged,” said Dúc. “He paid all of the deposit the first time, but I gave it back when only one girl came. Please, one moment, I know he works Tuesday to Saturday, but he may not have left for work yet.”

Dúc used his cellphone and made a quick call. When he hung up he said, “Yes, he is home and will wait, but I must go now.”

“That is not a problem,” said Moustache Pete. “We will go with you and wait in the car. You can drive us back to our apartment later. Maybe by then the bank will be open and we can stop there first.”

Jack stared at Quaile as he made a pretext of looking at them as he sat behind his desk.

“Yes. You look much more appropriate,” said Quaile, avoiding Jack’s stare. “That is how you should be attired on all occasions. Now, I’m going to call Inspector Penn and tell him that the both of you are now available to ....” Quaile paused to answer his telephone.

“May I speak with the NCO in charge, please?” asked a feminine voice.

“You are. This is Staff Sergeant Quaile.”

“Stand by, one moment please. I’m going to connect you with Deputy Commissioner Simonson.”

“Deputy Commissioner Simonson!” said Quaile aloud.

It was a name Quaile knew well. Deputy Commissioner Simonson worked in Ottawa and was only one rung below the actual Commissioner himself. Someone so far up the chain of command that for him to call someone in Quaile’s position was virtually unheard of.

Quaile glanced at the call display and recognized the Ottawa prefix and put his hand over the receiver and looked at Jack and Laura and whispered, “Get out.”

“Sorry,” said Jack. “I couldn’t hear that.”

“I have an important call. Get out!”

Jack and Laura obediently returned to their own office.

Back in their own office, Laura looked at Jack and said, “I was afraid to even look at you in there in case I couldn’t keep a straight face. Deputy Commissioner Simonson?”

Jack smiled and said, “Quaile would never have the nerve to call him, let alone question what he wants.”

“Good one. Who are you using?”

“Remember Bob from Edmonton?”

“Thought he was retired now? Working for the Insurance Corporation of B.C.”

“He is, but still has all the contacts. Including someone to provide him with a call forwarding number out of Ottawa.”

“If this doesn’t work, Quaile will have you transferred.”

“I have the feeling that I’ve nothing to lose.”

Quaile drummed his fingers on the desk for thirty seconds, but sat upright when a gruff voice asked, “Staff Sergeant Quaalude?”

“Ah, it’s pronounced, Quaile, sir.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Things are hectic here this morning. What’s the weather like out there in Vancouver?”

“Windy and raining right now, sir. Kind of miserable.”

“That’s good. Listen, I’m calling about the reports you submitted. The Commissioner is personally interested in this.”

“The Commissioner! What reports sir?”

“On those two Russians your section is working on. I don’t have their names. You must know who I mean?”

“I do sir.”

“Their names surfaced in an international investigation we’re involved with here. It’s a high priority case involving very bad apples. We’ve discovered that there is corruption at the highest level. Indications are that it is even amongst our own ranks.”

“Corruption amongst our own ranks, sir?”

“Yes, Quaalude, I just said that. Now, whatever you get on these guys, I don’t want you to dilly-dally with the reports. Send them in pronto! I don’t know how you got on to them, but I can tell you, the Commissioner is pleased. There are other countries involved and it’s about time we had something to make us look good.”

“Yes, sir! My instincts told me these guys were bad from the get-go. Should I have my investigators contact someone?”

“No. Don’t talk about this to anyone or have anyone make any calls at this time. Weren’t you listening when I said there is a serious indication of corruption?”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

“Simply proceed like normal. We will contact you if the need arises. Just keep those reports coming.”

“Would you like me to direct the reports to your personal attention?”

“Jesus ... of course not, Quaalude! I have better things to do than distribute reports around the building. My God, what do you think I do here? Send them through ordinary channels as always. You got that?”

“Yes, sir!”

Moments later, Jack and Laura were summoned back to Quaile’s office.

“Listen, I’ve had overnight to rethink what you said yesterday and have reconsidered this whole Russian matter. I’m going to allow you to continue working on them, but I expect results—don’t let me down!”

“Staff ... are you sure?” asked Jack, ignoring the roll of Laura’s eyes. “What about Commercial Crime?”

“That can wait for now. You told me these Russians are worth taking a look at. You better not fail. This is your one and only chance to prove it.”

“Will do,” said Jack as he and Laura turned to leave.

“Not so fast,” said Quaile.

“Staff?” asked Jack.

“I see our overtime budget is healthy at the moment, so don’t hesitate to work a few extra hours if necessary.”

Upon returning to their office, Laura looked at Jack and said, “Bob was a good operator.”

“One of the best. He still is.”

Dúc parked his car down the street from Pops’s house and got out while Moustache Pete and the Fat Man waited. They watched as Dúc hustled down the street before disappearing up the inclination of a driveway that led around to the back of the house.

“It is good,” said the Fat Man. “This degenerate. He pays us for our insurance.”

“Soon the other child will be here,” said Moustache Pete. “It will be double indemnity.”

Both men chortled.

Jack and Laura were parked near the entrance to the Russians’ apartment building and Laura used the steering wheel to steady the binoculars as she looked at a car that just arrived. “Oh, man,” she said, passing the binoculars to Jack.

Jack adjusted the binoculars and yelled, “Damn it! That’s Dúc dropping them off! Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

“Only ten in the morning,” commented Laura. “Wonder what they were up to? Maybe just meeting for breakfast.”

“Maybe. Would have been nice to know for sure instead of seeing if my tie matched my shirt. Dúc isn’t usually an early riser. Something was up.”

“Stay with the Russians or go with Dúc?” asked Laura.

“Let’s sit on the Russians. They’re our main targets.”

It was late in the afternoon when Quaile called Jack and told him to return to the office.

Jack returned and walked into Quaile’s office alone.

“Close the door,” said Quaile, “and have a seat.”

Jack did as instructed.

“What have you learned about the Russians today?”

“This morning they were dropped off at about ten by Dúc. Laura and I sat on them all day but they haven’t moved.”

“You just sat out there wasting an entire shift?”

“These guys haven’t been supplying me with their itinerary. They’re not a couple of boys who work in offices. It takes time.”

“You’ve had plenty of time. I would have expected a competent investigator to have come up with something more substantial by now.”

“Is this what you called us in for? Perhaps if we were still out there, we would have something more substantial,” said Jack, crossly.

“Your annual assessment couldn’t wait any longer,” replied Quaile, “otherwise it would be overdue. I am a firm believer in punctuality.” He gestured to the forms in front of him and said, “A few questions. Do you speak French?”

“No,” sighed Jack, while checking his watch. “I have passable Spanish and am learning some Russian and Vietnamese, however.”

“That’s ridiculous!” said Quaile, looking dumbstruck. “Canada is bilingual ... French and English. Stop learning those and take French.”

“I don’t believe the Russians I’m working on know French,” replied Jack innocently.

Quaile glared at Jack and said, “How far did you ever expect to get in the RCMP?”

“To the rank of corporal,” Jack replied bitterly.

“I didn’t ask you what your rank is now! I asked you how far you ever expected to get!”

“I heard you. As I said, to the rank of corporal.”

Quaile continued to glare at Jack for several seconds without speaking, before saying, “I don’t believe we have anything further to say to each other.”

“Neither do I,” replied Jack, before returning to his office.

Hang lay curled on her mattress, her tongue exploring the holes in her gums from her missing front teeth. She knew that soon her father would be expecting her to call. When I don’t, questions will be asked. People will look for me ...

Her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar creak of the passage door. She did not feel the fear she once did. She was still another day away from a red circle on the calendar ... and knew Pops would wait until then to do something to her.

Today she expected Pops to smile and mark another X on the calendar, which he did, but he also had a message.

“Your dad thinks you are dead. Killed in a car accident.”

Hang’s emotions played havoc with her brain. Father will be crying because of me! Then she came to a horrible conclusion—the real reason Pops was smiling. Nobody will miss me! Nobody will come looking!

“That’s right,” said Pops. “Everyone thinks you’re dead. Nobody will ever look for you now.”

Hang turned her face into the sponge mattress and wept.

“Do not cry,” said Pops. “Soon you will have your sister to love. And I do mean love!” Pops snickered as he left.

Eventually Hang stopped crying and found herself staring at the calendar. She looked past the red circles to something more horrific. Linh’s arrival! It will be soon ... and it is up to me to do ... whatever ... to save her.

She stared around the room. She knew it well, right down to the number of brass screws in the ceiling. Now, her attention focused on the toilet tank ... and a plan began to formulate.

chapter ten

It was eleven o’clock at night when Jack and Laura saw the lights flick off in the penthouse suite. Jack was glad the Russians decided to have an early night. He was tired ... and depressed. He was home an hour later and was glad to see that Natasha was still awake as she lay in bed reading a book. Twenty minutes later, he got in bed beside her as she put the book down.

“You close to catching these Russians?”

“Not that. Quaile did my annual assessment today. It went badly.”

Jack sighed and told Natasha about his differences with Quaile.

“In the morning he wants me to bust my ass and find out what the Russians are all about. In the afternoon he does this to me. The guy doesn’t have a clue about management.”

“You told me before that you didn’t think he would last long. You expected him to be transferred soon.”

“Now I think I’ll be transferred first, if my assessment is any indication.”

“To where?”

Jack shrugged and said bitterly, “I suspect I’ll be going back to harness, but who knows where. I guess the good news is I’d be working regular shifts. More time to spend with you,” he added, forcing a smile.

Natasha gently pulled Jack closer so that their naked bodies could entwine as one, with their heads sharing the same pillow. “As much as I would like to spend more time with you—twenty-four-seven, actually—I know that is not feasible. And going back to uniform? You wouldn’t be happy.”

“I may not exactly get a choice in this matter,” replied Jack.

Natasha lifted the covers and looked at Jack’s body.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Looking for the man I married,” she replied, dropping the sheets. “That guy wouldn’t have given up so easily. That guy always found a way to solve a problem.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Believe me, I’ve been trying. Laura and I have been putting everything we have into catching these two Russians. I thought that if we did, it might give Quaile reason to reflect. Perhaps adjust his thinking. Now, thinking about how he screwed me on my assessment, I’m not sure that would even work.”

“You’re tired, stressed, and depressed.”

“Tell me about it.”

“If you actually took some time off to relax, maybe enjoy life, it would clear your head. Give your brain a chance to re-energize.”

“I know,” sighed Jack. “What you say is right, but it’s a Catch-22. If I take time off, then I might miss something with the Russians ... then I’d really be screwed.”

“It would still be good to give yourself a small break from it.”

“I can’t. Maybe in a couple of weeks ...”

“You have to lower your stress level. It’s not healthy. Mentally or physically.”

“And how the hell do I do that? Quaile’s riding my—”

“Shut up about Quaile!” said Natasha angrily. “Complaining about him won’t help.”

“Then what do you suggest?” snapped Jack in exasperation. “I’m trying damn hard to go by the rules and look what it’s gotten me! If I had screwed up or got caught doing something I shouldn’t, then fine. I deserve it. But this is bullshit. I know life isn’t fair, but it’s eating me up inside.”

The two of them silently stared up at the ceiling.

Eventually Jack rolled over to face Natasha. “I’m sorry,” he said. “That just didn’t come out right. I really love you. I think you’re an amazing person and sometimes wonder how you put up with me ... and what I do. I just have so many things on my mind. Now is not the time to take a holiday. I wouldn’t be able to relax anyway.”

Natasha sighed and said, “Yeah, I know. I sometimes wonder myself how I put up with you. Laura once said that I was a brave woman to be married to you.”

Jack felt relieved that Natasha wasn’t angry. “Laura told you that? That wench! Don’t believe anything she says.”

Natasha smiled and said, “Of course she was joking, but in a way, it made me think.”

“Think of what?”

“Of how much I love you—to put up with all the crap you do put me through.”

Jack reflected on his relationship with Natasha since they had met and admitted, “There has been a lot of stress—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” sighed Natasha. “It’s not entirely your fault. I brought home my own bag of stress.”

“Oh?” said Jack. “Want to talk about it?”

Natasha swallowed and said, “Today I had a patient. A young mom with cancer. She’s pregnant with her third and refuses chemo ... the only thing that might save her at this point.”

“That’s awful.”

“It makes you think. I can put up with just about anything as long as we’re together,” she added, bringing her face close to his.

Jack felt her warm mouth linger on his lips. When she pulled away, he said, “I guess we really should remember to put things in perspective. You look around at our apartment, all the things we have ... but the really important things in life aren’t things.”

“Despite what goes on at work,” said Natasha, “we have each other. Enjoy life. Every precious minute. Speaking of which, I do have an idea that might help you.”

“Right now? You said I needed a break from work.”

“Something to make your work more fun.”

“I’m listening.”

“Would you still like to learn a few more words of Russian? We could start with the parts of the body,” said Natasha, with a grin. “Correct pronunciation and memory could be enhanced through a tactile approach.”

Jack smiled and said, “Now I know what you mean by making my work fun.”

Laura checked her watch. It was 1:45 in the afternoon and for the last five hours she had been sitting in a car with Jack. They were parked where they could observe the front entrance to the Russians’ apartment.

She glanced at Jack. Yesterday he had told her about the meeting he’d had with Quaile over his assessment. She had a sleepless night because of it. I know life isn’t fair ... but why do some people go out of their way to make it unfair?

She cleared her throat and said, “If you end up being transferred because of Quaile, then I’m putting in for a transfer, too.”

Jack looked at her and said, “Thanks ... I appreciate what you’re saying, but in the long run, that just means the bad guys win. You’re a real asset to the section. I’d really hate to see what it would be like if Quaile brought in his own minions.”

Laura sighed and said, “Oh, man ... I hadn’t thought about that. I know you’re right, but I still couldn’t work for a man like that. It’s barely tolerable with you as a buffer. I’d flip out if I had to deal with him directly.”

“I guess you have to do what makes you happy ... but don’t quit just because of me. Besides, maybe a break for me would be okay.”

“Don’t try and placate me,” replied Laura. “I know you better than that. This is your life.”

“Yours, too,” replied Jack. “Which is why I don’t want you to throw it away on my account.”

“I wouldn’t be throwing it away. I’d probably be saving myself from being arrested for homicide.”

Jack chuckled, turned up the radio and said, “Oh, one of my favourites.” He started drumming his fingers on the steering wheel while singing along to Billy Joel’s “You May Be Right.”

“I thought you liked classical?” asked Laura, more to save her ears than find out the answer.

“All depends on the mood I’m in,” replied Jack. “I basically like it all. Classical, country, rock ... anything but heavy metal or opera. One of my favourites is Dr. Hook.”

Laura saw him pause to pick up with the words on the radio and quickly said, “You’re awfully perky today—considering how you felt yesterday after seeing Quaile.”

Jack smiled and leaned back in his seat and said, “I get the point. Sorry. I think one of the most dangerous things I ever did was to try and sing karaoke in a bar one night. You’re right, though, nothing like a few hours of sleep to put life back in perspective.”

“Somehow I get the feeling that you did more than sleep.”

Jack gave Laura a sideways glance and said, “God help Elvis if he ever fooled around on you.”

“He’d only do it once.”

“Hey, that reminds me. Natasha said you told her she was a brave woman to marry me.”

Laura snickered, but didn’t reply.

“I told her you were a wench. Not to believe anything you say.”

“A wench! Is that what you called me?” said Laura, giving Jack a playful punch on the arm.

“Out of the car,” said Jack, seriously.

“I was kidding!”

“No. Our targets. Moustache Pete and the Fat Man.... They’re taking a walk.”

Laura quickly got out of the car and hustled down the street. She caught up to the Russians and kept pace with them from the opposite side of the street. She used a portable radio to keep in touch with Jack, who would reposition the car as they went.

“They just went inside a business,” radioed Laura. “Travel King. Stand by—I’ll do a walk past.” Moments later, Laura radioed again, “They’re just sitting down with a woman. Looks like they’re planning on taking a trip.”

Laura rejoined Jack in the car and they waited. Twenty minutes later, the Russians appeared and walked back toward their apartment.

“Do you think they knew the woman?” asked Jack.

“No, I saw them shaking hands, like an introduction.”

“Good. Let’s chance it and go talk to her.”

Jack and Laura introduced themselves to the travel agent and expressed their interest in the two Russians. Elaine introduced herself and said, “I’m not really supposed to do this ... but they’re flying out of Vancouver a week today. Their destination flight is the city of Liberia located in the northern part of Costa Rica.”

Matches the call on the pay phone, thought Jack. He glanced at Laura and saw her nod.

“From there,” said Elaine, “they’re taking about a forty-five minute taxi ride to the coast. A small town called Playas del Coco—or as us gringos call it, Coco Beach.”

“I know that place,” said Jack. “I passed through there on my honeymoon.”

“You should have booked it through me,” said Elaine, with a smile. “Anyway, I offered to get these two guys a rental car but they weren’t interested. They did ask that I book them each a room at Hotel Coco Verde, which I did. It’s walking distance to the beach and has a pool and a casino.”

“They asked for that specific hotel?” asked Jack.

“Yes. Actually I told them that the place has a reputation for a lot of prostitution. Men go there on conferences and sometimes book a prostitute to be with them for the whole time they’re there. These two didn’t care. They said they were meeting a friend who was going there and had already recommended it.”

“No indication of who their friend was?” asked Jack.

“They didn’t say, but when I was booking their flight, one of them told me that the date was good because it was two days before the guy arrived that they were supposed to meet. That’s all I know. They are there for a week and then are scheduled to return.”

Jack gave Elaine his business card and she promised to call him if there were any changes.

On their way back to their office, Laura said, “Our Russians have to be planning on bringing in cocaine. They’ve been checking the ports, wanting navigational maps—they must have a boat they’re using.”

“I sort of agree,” replied Jack. “Costa Rica is like the skinny end of the funnel for coke coming up from South America. As I recall, someone told me that Coco Beach is the first port of entry for boats coming into the country from the north.”

“Did you and Natasha stay at the Hotel Coco Verde?”

Jack laughed and said, “No. A small place called Villa del Sol. Actually it’s owned by a couple of French-Canadians. Nice people.”

“You said you sort of agree. Not completely?”

“If it was cocaine importation, why didn’t the bikers cut themselves in on the action ... or permanently cut the Russians out? That part still doesn’t make sense to me. Maybe it is cocaine importation, but there has to be something else. Something that scared our friend in Satans Wrath—and he doesn’t scare easily.”

“We’ve got to go down there,” replied Laura. “What chance do you think we’ll have with Quaile authorizing that?”

“Last week I would have said none,” replied Jack, “but after the number Bob did on him, I bet there won’t be a problem,” he added with a wink.

Jack’s meeting with Quaile was brief.

“I’ll okay it for you and Laura to go,” said Quaile, “but for the chunk you’re taking out of our budget, I can tell you right now ... you’d better get results!”

Hang anxiously waited when Pops carried in a couple of Styrofoam containers of hot Chinese food, along with napkins and plastic utensils.

“Red-circle day,” he said, setting the items down out of her reach while he turned on the propane heater. The smell of the food permeated every corner of the room.

Pops used his foot to slide the food over to Hang.

Hang ate the food rapidly while Pops sat on the floor, smiling at her. When she was finished, he stood and marked another X on the calendar.

“Two days to your next red circle,” he said, before shutting heater off and taking the food containers away as he left.

Hang stared at the calendar. This red-circle day was okay. What will I get on the next red-circle day?

For Hang, it was better that she did not know.

chapter eleven

“Assistant Commissioner Isaac will see you now, Staff.”

Quaile nodded curtly to the secretary and strode into Isaac’s office. He saw Isaac gesture to a chair and sat down.

“Good morning,” said Isaac. “Update me on this file involving travel to Costa Rica.”

“Yes, sir. Corporal Taggart and Constable Secord left yesterday. Liaisons were arranged and the Costa Rican police are accommodating. The two Russians are flying out at five o’clock this afternoon. Corporal Taggart and Constable Secord will assist with coordinating the surveillance with the police down south when the Russians land.”

“No indication of who the Russians are meeting?” asked Isaac.

“No, sir. Not at this time.”

“What about the Vietnamese? These Tran brothers.... Any indication they are going?”

“No, sir.”

“At least on this venture, it does not appear that Corporal Taggart has any personal issues—or potential vendettas,” mused Isaac.

“Last week I did his performance evaluation,” said Quaile. “I must say, it was the poorest assessment I have ever been forced to give anyone.” Quaile saw the raised eyebrow that Isaac cast in his direction. Was I wrong to ... if he doubts my judgement!

“I told you to keep an eye on him,” said Isaac, “but I expect you to treat him fairly.”

“It was fair, sir” said Quaile hurriedly. “The man is a low-life. Shows up to work in the morning with bags under his eyes. Unkempt appearance. Obviously likes to party all night. He lacks initiative to learn new things or apply himself to assignments that I have tried to give him.”

Isaac did not reply.

“Are you questioning my judgement?” asked Quaile, nervously.

Isaac stared at him for a moment before answering, “No, I am simply ensuring that he is being treated fairly.”

“Well, I certainly stand by my assessment of him. If it wasn’t for this investigation on the Russians, I would recommend his immediate transfer but with Deputy Commissioner Simonson calling me and the Commissioner’s personal interest, I decided to wait until the investigation is over.”

“Paul called you from Ottawa?” asked Isaac in surprise.

“Yes, sir,” replied Quaile, feeling somewhat self-important. “It is highly confidential. These two Russians are connected to a major international investigation. Involves corruption. I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. It just sort of slipped—well, besides, I know ... I mean, obviously it is appropriate for you to know ...”

Quaile quit talking when Isaac held up his hand for him to stop. He waited and listened quietly as Isaac dialled. From snippets of conversation, Quaile realized he had been duped and his ears turned crimson.

When Isaac hung up, he turned to Quaile and said, “Your alleged call from Ottawa was bogus.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Quaile. “I gathered that from what I heard.”

“And you didn’t suspect anything?”

“Taggart was in the office when I received the call,” stammered Quaile. “How could I? I even remember seeing the area code. It was Ottawa—”

“Likely had a friend do it.”

“Sir, this is terribly embarrassing. For a member to pull a stunt like this, well—”

“I warned you to keep an eye on him,” said Isaac. “There is something, however, that we need to consider.”

“Sir?”

“It would appear that young Jack Taggart is risking his career on the fact that the Russians are worth it. It will be interesting to see the results. Keep quiet about this for now. Give it a week or two and see how all this pans out. We’ll deal with the phone call later, although I doubt we could ever prove that he was behind it.”

“Yes, sir. Like I said, if you had any doubts about my judgement in regards to his assessment, this incident just goes to highlight the fact that—”

“You can go now, Staff.”

Moustache Pete and the Fat Man were both jovial as they checked their baggage at the Delta Airlines counter in the Vancouver International Airport. Their demeanour and self-confidence changed completely just as they were entering the security check-in.

“Hey, comrades!”

Both men turned in surprise and were partially blinded by the flash of a camera. Both were too startled to say anything as the man with the camera turned and hurried away.

The following day, Jack and Laura watched through the tinted windows of a van parked on the main street in Coco Beach. With them was a plainclothes member of the Fuerza Pública. This was the name of the Costa Rican police force and the policeman assigned to work with them, Eduardo, spoke English.

“Your two men,” said Eduardo, “They are very nervous.”

It was a point that Jack and Laura had already observed. The Russians had constantly been looking around them ever since they got off the plane. After checking in to the Hotel Coco Verde, they changed into shorts and singlets went across the street and had lunch at a Cajun-style restaurant, where they sat talking in hushed voices.

The Russians were watched as they finished lunch and took the five-minute stroll down the main street that led directly to the beach. Most tourists stared at the array of gift shops and local crafts, but the Russians seemed more interested in looking at people’s faces.

When they arrived at the beach, they turned right and trudged through the cocoa-coloured sand.

Jack and Laura discreetly followed behind, using an abundance of coconut trees farther back from the beach as cover while Eduardo leap-frogged ahead on a road running parallel to the beach that was obscured by buildings and vegetation.

The Russians arrived at the end of the beach and climbed up and stood on some large rock formations jutting out into the ocean. They paused to look back down the beach and Jack was relieved that there was nobody in sight to make them more paranoid.

“These guys are really heated up,” said Jack, passing the binoculars to Eduardo, who had now abandoned the van.

“Yes, it is hot,” said Eduardo. “Canada. Mucho frio.”

“Yes, very cold in Canada,” said Jack.

“I think they are fight with each other,” said Eduardo, peering through the binoculars.

Jack looked and could see the Fat Man shaking his head and looking at Moustache Pete, who was waving his arms and gesturing in all directions. The Fat Man handed a cellphone to Moustache Pete who took it and flung it far into the ocean.

“Shit! We’re burned,” said Jack.

“Yes, sun very hot,” said Eduardo.

Following their stroll down the beach, the Russians used an Internet facility before returning to their hotel, where they spent the rest of the day drinking and lounging about the hotel pool.

Eduardo attempted to track the Russians’ Internet activity on the computer, but told Jack and Laura that it had all been deleted and therefore was unable to retrieve anything.

The next two days passed and, with the exception of another visit to the Internet facility, the Russians did little of interest. They did appear to be more relaxed and now drank copious amounts of Imperial beer while sampling the services of several different prostitutes.

At no time did they appear to meet with anyone of interest—a fact Jack was all too conscious of as he continued to delay calling Quaile to debrief him. Eventually he knew he could delay no longer. He left Laura with Eduardo and went to his room. He found that the phone lines were not working, but after a twenty-minute delay and some apologies from the hotel switchboard, he was able to connect.

“So they’re just down there on a holiday!” exclaimed Quaile.

“Something has made them paranoid,” said Jack.

“So you’re telling me you screwed up the surveillance?”

“The Costa Rican police have been good. Professional enough not to have burned us. Something else must ...”

“So you’re saying they’re just partying and acting like tourists. Obviously then, they weren’t up to anything in the first place.”

“At the moment they’re not, but ....” A knock on Jack’s door interrupted him and he said, “Hang on, someone’s at my door.”

Laura was quick with the news. “When you left they went up the street to a place called De La Costa Travel Agency. Eduardo just found out they booked a flight to Cuba. They leave tomorrow and fly to Havana. The agent tried to book them a hotel, but they said they would find one when they arrived. They’re booked to come back to Costa Rica, arriving in San Jose five days later and will then head back to Canada.”

Jack relayed the news to Quaile as Secord stood next to him, listening.

“Where do you plan on going on holidays next? Spain? Forget it. You and Secord be on the next plane available back to Vancouver. You’re finished with this scam!”

Jack didn’t reply, his mind racing to find a solution. He knew Quaile wouldn’t allow him to pursue the investigation any further. Phone the Cuban police? They would probably think it was a hoax. Or at the very least, contact Ottawa—and eventually Quaile. Nope, this has to be personal.

“Did you hear me, Taggart?”

“Staff, I’m feeling really burnt-out. I’ve got a lot of annual leave to use before year’s end. I’d like to take a week off and stay here. I’ll pay for it myself. Okay with you?”

A week off, thought Quaile, remembering the short time frame that Isaac mentioned as a deadline to get results. “Go ahead. It’s your money. You won’t exactly be missed around here.”

Laura grabbed the phone from Jack’s hand and said, “The same goes for me. I’ll be back in the office when Jack is.”

“Suit yourself, but realize I’ll be checking every penny of your expenses when you get back. As of right now, you’re on your own money.”

As soon as Laura hung up, Jack said, “Thanks, but no! It’s my neck on the chopping block, there’s no need to put yours there as well.”

“Forget that!” said Laura. “We’re partners. It seems to me I’ve had to remind you that before. Quit trying to cut me out of things. This affects me, too. If we don’t get results and go home empty-handed you’ll end up being transferred. That will leave me to go begging to Staffing to be transferred as well. Who knows where I’ll end up.”

“But this could be expensive. I don’t ...”

“From here, it won’t be that expensive.”

Jack felt the knot in his stomach. “Thanks, Laura. I really mean that, friends like you are hard to come by, but ...”

“Good friends are hard to come by. Wouldn’t you do the same for me?”

Jack sighed. “You know I would.”

“Enough said. I’m going and if you want to join me, you’re welcome.”

“If I want to join you!”

“Separate rooms, of course.”

Jack smiled as he envisioned trying to wrestle Laura off the plane. He looked at her and said, “If we’re caught, it could end both our careers.”

Laura laughed and said, “Compared to other things we’ve done? Come on, this sounds like a cakewalk. We’re not Americans, so it’s not illegal for us to go there. What we do on our time off is our own business.”

“We won’t be able to do it without help from the Cuban police. We’ll need them, otherwise we’re liable to lose them as soon as they leave the airport.”

“Yeah, so we tell the locals and ask for their help.”

Jack put his hand on Laura’s shoulder and said, “Think about it. Cuba is a communist country. Going there and contacting them without first getting permission from Ottawa would end our careers. If we did that in the States, we might get away with a slap on the wrist, but Cuba is different.”

“Guess we’d better not get caught. I’ve never been to Cuba before. I’d like to see it.”

Jack smiled and lowered his hand. “I haven’t been there either. I heard the Cubans are really friendly. We’d better hustle. Cash only.”

Laura nodded in agreement.“No paper trail.”

On the last red-circle day, Hang had been tortured from items out of the cardboard box. Now, a day later, she held her hand over one eye, hoping to ease the pain as she squinted at the calendar.

Today was marked with another red circle. She had the dates memorized, but kept hoping she had somehow made a mistake. That the circles would magically be gone. They weren’t.

Will he hurt me—or bring me a warm meal?

After today, it was five days away until the next date that was circled. Is he giving my body time to heal?

Pops had made that circle extra thick as he had gone round and round with the red felt marker several times on the calendar while grinning at her.

She wondered at the significance of this particular circle—and then she knew.

That is when Linh arrives!

She slowly and painfully eased herself off the foam mattress and took the top off the toilet tank and stared inside for a long time, trying to build her courage. It is the only possible way to get a message out. I must!

A creak of the passage door opening told Hang she would have to wait. She quickly replaced the lid and stood, shaking uncontrollably as she stared at the cardboard box.

chapter twelve

Quaile’s briefing with Isaac was short.

“It appears that the Russians aren’t up to anything. They’re just down there partying and laying around by the pool. I told Taggart to return, but now he’s begging for time off. He’s stressed and can’t handle the pressure.” “Stressed?” asked Isaac, suspiciously. “With the situations he has been in, most members would have flipped out—but he’s always remained cool. Are you sure?”

“He told me so. I bet it’s over the bogus call he arranged. Probably thought about it later and realized I wasn’t the sort to be fooled for long. It confirms my assessment of him.”

“Corporal Taggart has always been right in the past. I question how he does things, but it is not like him to go running off on a wild goose chase. Are you sure the Russians aren’t up to something?”

“Certainly doesn’t appear so. Taggart and Secord both have annual leave coming and asked to take a few extra days off while they’re there. Knowing how deceitful he can be ... and after he complained of being burnt-out, I decided it was prudent to okay his little holiday. Otherwise I could see him coming back and putting in for six months’ stress leave or something.”

Isaac sat quietly for a moment, one hand unconsciously rubbing the top of the Bible on his desk while his mind ruminated over what he knew about Jack. Or what I think I know ...

“Sir?” interjected Quaile. “Perhaps now would be an opportune time to have Staffing find him a uniform position somewhere. If your past suspicions about him are valid and—I mean, I’m sure they are valid, it would place him in a position where he could be more easily monitored.”

Isaac nodded, as if in agreement, but said, “Sometimes good investigations still go astray, not that I’m condoning his trip to Costa Rica. Also, we’ll never prove he was responsible for your bogus call from Ottawa. Saying he’s stressed ... time off ... what else is he up to?”

“Sir, I don’t think he is up to anything other than going down there and wasting tax dollars.”

“Give it another couple of weeks to see if anything comes of this investigation. See what happens when the Russians return. We might discover that Corporal Taggart is doing something more serious than making bogus phone calls.”

“Such as?” asked Quaile.

“I don’t know, but with him, it usually makes headlines. Keep an eye on him.”

“And if two weeks pass and the investigation falls flat?” asked Quaile.

“Then he’s back in uniform.”

Quaile smiled. Now I know I did the right thing by allowing him to take a week off ...

Jack and Laura waited at the assigned gate in the San Jose Airport to board their flight to Havana. The area was packed with passengers, which Jack was glad to see. The only flight they could get was the same one the Russians were on, and it was now three hours late.

Eduardo had seen to it that the Russians would be seated at the back of the plane, where they would board first and get off last. He also gave Jack a note written in Spanish to pass on to the captain flying the plane. The note expressed the need for discretion and also the urgent need for Jack to talk to the Cuban police about the two Russian passengers who were the criminals that Jack and Laura were following.

“It will not be a problema,” Eduardo assured them. “Every plane from Cuba has its own security officers to make sure nobody, like members of the crew, escapes from Cuba. They make sure only the correct passengers get off. You will have no problems contacting the police.”

Jack began to feel uneasy. Will Laura and I ever leave Cuba after this?

“Fat Man is going to the washroom again,” whispered Laura.

Both Jack and Laura held newspapers up to their faces as Fat Man sauntered past.

“With the amount of rum he had for lunch, I doubt he can see past his feet,” Jack said.

Eventually the boarding call was made and Jack and Laura found themselves sitting in a crowded and cramped Russian-built Yak-42 that smelled of aviation fuel.

Jack waited until they were twenty minutes into the five-hour flight before he handed the note to a stewardess. She smiled sweetly and said she would give it to the captain. Moments later, Jack and Laura saw two husky-looking men dressed in suits come up to them. One bent over and whispered, “Policia? Canada?”

Jack nodded and both he and Laura showed their police identification. The one man handed both pieces of identification to his colleague.

“Passports,” the man whispered again.

Jack and Laura handed him their passports. Both men headed for the cockpit with all the documents. Neither were seen again until the plane landed in Havana.

As soon as Jack and Laura stepped from the plane, they were met by eight men, none of whom appeared to speak any English. Jack’s limited knowledge of Spanish also seemed to fall on deaf ears.

They were quickly escorted past the crowds and up to the head of one of several long lineups leading to the immigration arrival counters, where they waited momentarily as the customs officer examined the passport of a man in front of them.

Jack saw her examine the passport carefully and, after a couple of routine questions, she stamped a separate piece of paper that was placed inside the passport. This document would be removed from the passport when the person left Cuba. This was standard treatment for any tourist and was meant to protect American visitors from being identified in their own country as having broken the American law by travelling to Cuba.

Jack and Laura stepped forward. Their escorts maintained control of their documents. This time there were no questions and the customs officer quickly completed the documentation process. Jack and Laura were separated and each put into small rooms located behind the immigration counters.

Jack studied the room. Similar to our own interrogation rooms. Two chairs ... a table against a wall. The minutes ticked by ... then an hour. What the hell is happening? The Russians are probably out of here by now—or are they being detained, too?

Jack opened the door, only to be met by an armed security guard who pointed for him to stay in the room.

“El banõ,” pleaded Jack, trying to sound convincing.

“El banõ?”

“Si, por favor. Urgente!”

Moments later, four men escorted Jack toward a washroom. Three of the guards were the same as the ones earlier, but one was different. Jack could tell by the way the other men acted that he was in command.

On the way, Jack caught a quick glimpse of the Russians. They were standing together, three back in line. Once in the washroom, Jack turned to the new guard and said, “They’re about to leave.” He gestured toward the bathroom door and said, “Dos banditos! Vamos! Comprender?”

The man smiled at him and nodded and pointed to the toilet said, “Si, el banõ.”

Minutes later, Jack was walked back toward the interrogation room. He saw the Russians being waved up to the customs counter and stopped and pretended to tie his shoe so that he could observe.

In the few seconds he delayed, the Russians had their papers stamped and disappeared toward where the taxis were parked. Great. I’m held and they’re set free.

Jack was returned to the interrogation room, but a moment later, the same man he had spoken to in the washroom came in.

“My name is Donato Castillo,” he said in perfect English.

“Damn it, you do speak English!”

“I am with the Seguridad de Estado.”

“Security of the State. Great. What is ...?”

“You speak Spanish?”

“Poquito ... a little. Your English is much better.”

“Then I will tell you in English. You are in a lot of trouble, Mister Jack Taggart. So is the lady in the other room. Unfortunately for you, someone has talked. We know why you are really here. In a few minutes, you will both be transferred to jail.”

Jack remained silent and Donato looked at him with contempt before leaving. Moments later, Laura was brought into the room and they were left alone.

“What’s up?” she asked, sitting in a chair to face Jack.

“Did anyone talk to you?” asked Jack.

“Not a word. I’m worried that the Russians might be out of here by now.”

“They are. I saw them leave a few minutes ago when I went to the bathroom.”

“Then what is going on? Have you been talking with anyone?”

“A man by the name of Donato Castillo just told me that someone had talked and that they knew why we were really here. He said we would be transferred to a jail cell shortly.”

“Oh ... I see,” replied Laura. “They have had plenty of time to go through our luggage and read our files on these guys.”

“Exactly.”

“So ... what now?” asked Laura.

“I guess we could both exclaim that we don’t know what Donato is talking about when he said someone talked. We could say that it doesn’t make sense because we are being truthful.”

“Is that the way you want to play it?” asked Laura.

“Naw. I feel that would be just plain deceitful. If we’re going to work together with the Cuban police, we’re going to have to learn to respect and trust each other.”

“Was this Donato taller than the husky types who escorted us off the plane?” asked Laura. “Dark wavy hair, nice teeth?”

“That’s him. You said you didn’t talk to anyone.”

“I didn’t. He just stuck his head in the room for a moment to look at me, then left.” Laura winked at Jack and said, “He certainly is a handsome man. I bet he catches the eye of a lot of pretty ladies.”

“I’m sure. I’d have volunteered to take a polygraph, but he didn’t give me the opportunity. Still, I bet he figures out the truth really fast.”

“Oh, so you think he’s intelligent, too?”

“Guess we’ll find out with how long he keeps us waiting. My guess is ...”

“Okay, okay! Enough!” said Donato, as he entered the room. He sat on the edge of the table, looking down at Jack and Laura, and asked, “Was I that obvious?”

Jack shook his head and replied, “No, but both Laura and I work on an Intelligence Unit. We’ve seen this picture before. As I said, I would be willing to take a polygraph if you wish.”

Donato gave a grim smile and said, “Well-trained agents can be taught to deceive the lie detector. The same type of agents who would pretend to need the bathroom and pretend to tie a shoelace so that they could learn what is going on around them.”

Jack grimaced and said, “I’ve heard that such people can be trained in regard to a polygraph, but only to the point of bringing about an inconclusive result. In my case, I am confident there would be no doubt that I was telling the truth. The only thing I would not disclose to you is the name of the informant that started this investigation.”

“The note you gave the pilot said you were acting without authority. That your own government was unaware that you were coming to Cuba.”

“That is correct,” said Jack.

“You are telling me that you are both so rich that you can spend your own money to travel around the world to catch criminals? That is very, very difficult for me to believe.”

“Our trip to Costa Rica was paid for by our government,” said Jack.

“But not from San Jose to Havana!”

“I’m sorry,” said Jack. “I suspect that police officers in Canada are in a far better economic situation than the officers in this country—but you are right. It is extremely unusual. There’s more to it than just catching two bad guys. I’m actually hoping to save my career by proving that these Russians are worthy targets.”

“Perhaps you should start at the beginning,” said Donato.

Jack told Donato everything, starting from a meeting with a high level source who held an executive position with an organized crime family, to the Russians’ interest in ports, navigational charts in the U.S. ... and a partially overheard telephone conversation where Moustache Pete said the shipment will be as white as snow while arranging a meeting in Costa Rica.

“So your boss does not want you to work on these men and you trick him with a phone call so you can?” asked Donato, somewhat surprised.

“Yes. I must tell you that our source in the organized crime family is a powerful man. He often has people killed. For him to be afraid of these two men ...”

“I understand,” said Donato. “Then you lie to your boss and tell him you are on vacation in Costa Rica.”

“Yes.”

“In my country, to do such a thing, more would happen to you than going back to direct traffic.” Donato stared at Jack quietly for a moment before saying, “Your boss, he is what I call ...” he paused and looked at Laura and asked, “¿Habla usted español?”

Laura looked at Jack and shrugged her shoulders.

“She doesn’t speak Spanish,” said Jack. “I think she only knows the word cerveza.”

Donato smiled, and continued, “Your boss sounds like a pendejo.”

Jack laughed and said, “The meaning of that word is used by police forces around the world. For bosses and criminals.”

Laura leaned forward in her chair and looked at each man and softly said, “Asshole?” She smiled when both Jack and Donato howled with laughter.

“Okay, my new amigos,” said Donato. “We will help you.”

“With discretion?” asked Jack. “My bosses will not be informed?”

“I will recommend that it be kept secret. Perhaps you might give me some suggestions on a certain boss of mine,” he added, with a smile.

“The Russians ... you know where they are?” asked Jack.

“Yes. They are in a taxi on their way to Varadero at this moment.”

“Are they booked into a hotel?” asked Jack.

“No. They are being cautious. They told the driver that they would decide on a hotel when they arrived. That is okay. The driver is a member of my staff. Now we must go. We will get you your luggage and then you will ride with me. You will see how the Cuban police catch criminals. If these men, Petya Globenko and Styopa Ghukov, meet anyone, we will know.”

Jack glanced at Donato, who gave a slight nod of his head. I never used the Russians’ real names. Just Moustache Pete and Fat Man. “Did you search the Russians’ luggage as well?” he asked.

Donato shook his head. “Not yet. That will be done at their hotel.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier here?” asked Laura. “You wouldn’t have needed a warrant.”

“A warrant?” Donato chuckled. “We have at least one or two secret officers from the DTI at all major hotels. At customs we did not want the Russians to suspect we had any interest in them.”

“The DTI?” asked Jack.

“Sorry, you would refer to them as Intelligence Officers. The other hotel staff does not even know their identity, although, in some cases I think they suspect. It is their job to keep an eye on suspicious people. Very efficient. Do you not do the same thing in Canada?”

“No,” replied Jack with a wry smile. “Civil liberties would go berserk.”

“Ah, I understand,” replied Donato. “Your country has not faced invasions or multiple assassination attempts on your leader. Let alone be faced with an embargo that has alienated you from the world. Such things tend to make leaders more suspicious and defensive. Civil liberties become a luxury we cannot afford.”

It took four hours for them to reach the resort area at Varadero and it was eleven o’clock at night when Jack, Laura, and Donato all checked in at the Hotel Acuazul. Moustache Pete and the Fat Man had already checked in at the Hotel Islazul which was part of the same hotel complex, but was a separate building a short walk away.

Jack, Laura, and Donato’s rooms were all in a row, with Donato taking the room in the centre. Jack glanced at Donato just as the three of them were about to open their doors. He caught Jack’s glance.

“No, you’re not,” Donato said, reading Jack’s mind.

“Of course, not,” replied Jack.

“I understand. I would think the same thing,” said Donato. “Please ... I insist. You take my room.”

“It’s okay,” said Jack. “I’ve been bugged before. I have nothing to hide from you.”

“I do not want you to think that. Please, use this room and I will sleep in yours.”

“What makes you think your own people have not bugged your room as well?” asked Jack. “After all, meeting with two Intelligence Officers from another country ... you might be under suspicion yourself.”

Donato put his finger to his lips for Jack to be quiet before smiling. He then winked and stepped inside.

Minutes later, the three of them reconvened in Donato’s room. “Beer?” asked Donato. Jack and Laura both nodded.

Donato made a phone call and within minutes one of his staff was at the door and handed him a tray with six cold bottles of Bucanero.

Jack didn’t know if it was the heat and the high humidity, or perhaps just the stress of a long day, but he decided it was one of the best beers he had ever tasted.

“They have checked in for three days,” said Donato. “Now that they are in their room, they seem to be relaxed. I do not think that they suspect any police activity. They converse in Russian, but then, that is their native tongue.”

“Do you have someone on your staff who speaks Russian?” asked Laura.

Donato smiled and said, “Cuba has a huge Russian influence. Up until the collapse of the Soviet Union, they provided our country with billions. Now, those days are over. Russia has her own economic problems and has turned away from us. The embargo continues to cause us much suffering. You saw on the way here tonight. Most of our cars are old, running at night without lights. Many people are killed. One of my own children ...”

Jack picked up the sudden sorrow in Donato’s voice.

Donato realized it himself and looked embarrassed as he quickly changed his tone and said, “I am sorry. I sounded like a beggar. I am not! Enough about that.” He turned to Laura and said, “Yes, many members of my staff, including me, speak and write fluently in Russian.”

“Russian, Spanish, and English,” said Jack. “You’re not afraid to learn, are you?”

“You can also add French and German to the list. No, I am not afraid to learn. Perhaps in the next few days we will learn things from each other.”

Donato paused to answer another knock at the door. He spoke quickly to one of his men before returning and announcing, “Now, some good news. From what we have heard they have simply come to Varadero to relax and enjoy themselves ... so you two can do likewise.”

“That’s not good news,” said Jack, glumly.

“No, my friend! Let me finish. Then they plan on returning to Havana where they are meeting someone before leaving Cuba.”

“Great,” replied Jack, returning Laura’s thumbs-up sign.

“Do you know if these Russians are dealing with someone who is an Arab?” asked Donato.

“Not that we’re specifically aware of. They’ve made phone calls to several Arab countries. It is possible they could be involved with smuggling heroin or hashish out of Afghanistan. Why?”

“They mentioned a restaurant in Havana that they would be meeting at. Moustache Pete said it would make whoever they are meeting feel at home. The restaurant is called Al Medina. It is the only Arab restaurant in Havana.”

“It doesn’t really make sense to me,” admitted Jack. “If their original meeting was in Costa Rica, it should be with someone from South America arranging to bring a boatload of cocaine to Canada.”

“Perhaps Costa Rica was just a place to blend business and pleasure,” suggested Donato. “It might be drugs from Afghanistan after all.”

“Perhaps,” replied Jack. “Seizing a boatload of heroin would be even better.”

“We are conducting background checks with Moscow on Moustache Pete and the Fat Man. We will learn more about these Russian schoolteachers.”

“Russia?” said Jack, surprised. “If you get anything back at all, I imagine it will be next year sometime.”

“We have a much better relationship,” replied Donato. “I expect to hear back tonight.”

“Tonight!” said Jack in amazement. “Your relationship with Russia is far better.”

“I have a question for you,” said Donato. “How long does it take you to get information from the United States?”

“Fast ... if it is unofficial. Only a matter of minutes,” replied Jack.

“For me, it is the same with Russia. Perhaps you and I may help each other in the future,” suggested Donato.

Jack nodded and passed Donato a business card.

“Thank you,” said Donato, while reciprocating with his own business card. “Now, about these Russians, my staff will handle all the necessary surveillance and investigative duties. They will be monitored every minute they are here, so you can sit back and enjoy yourselves. I will keep you appraised.”

“I would like to see whoever they are meeting,” said Jack.

“We will have photos—but I understand. I will see what can be arranged. For the next few days, I think you can enjoy the beauty that my country has to offer. For the most part, I will remain by your side. It would not be wise for the Russians to see your faces and I will always be informed of their movements. Another cerveza?” he asked, looking at Laura.

Laura shook her head and said, “Thanks, but no. I’m exhausted. I think it’s time for me to turn in.”

“Likewise,” said Jack, getting to his feet.

Donato’s phone rang and he answered it, speaking rapidly in Russian, but paused to look at Jack and Laura. “Wait!” he ordered, before returning to speaking Russian.

Jack and Laura each sat back down. Jack saw the surprised look on Donato’s face change to that of a frightened man.

Something is terribly wrong ...

chapter thirteen

“They’re what?” Jack couldn’t believe what he was just told. The impact was still sinking in.

“You might call them schoolteachers,” continued Donato. “Both of them did teach at various military institutions in Russia. The one you call the Fat Man has his degree in microbiology. Moustache Pete has a degree in history and was a high-ranking officer in the Russian infantry.”

The shipment will be as white as snow, thought Jack. Microbiology ... chemical warfare, anthrax?

“Jack,” said Laura. “They were looking at navigational charts around Seattle! Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“I think all three of us are,” said Jack. No wonder Damien was scared of these guys! He knew this! Those text books in the apartment he told us about. Sure, maybe they were in Russian, but they were bound to have graphs, maybe a periodic chart of elements or a conceptual flow chart of microbes—

“Oh, man,” said Laura as she started to put everything together. “This is a plot to smuggle a dirty bomb into the States.”

Jack was still thinking of Damien. If Satans Wrath was linked with terrorists, they’d be slam-dunked by the government of every country they operated in. Half of them would end up in Guantanamo Bay, or secret prisons elsewhere in the world. Maybe never heard from again ...

“Calls to Iran, Saudi Arabia ...” continued Laura.

“This changes everything,” said Donato, quickly getting to his feet. “I must leave for Havana immediately. You will both remain in the hotel until I speak with you. Understood?”

“I understand,” said Jack. “We’ll be here.”

“We’re dealing with terrorists,” said Laura, as soon as they were alone. “It has to be! It all adds up.”

“Explains why our friend with Satans Wrath was scared and made it clear they were not involved. Tipping us off about them was just his way of covering his ass.”

“We’re going to have to tell the brass,” said Laura. “We can’t stay mum about this. We could be talking about thousands of lives here.”

“I know, but right now, it’s the Cubans who discovered this. It’s their ball game. I don’t want to do, or say anything ... without their approval.”

Laura nodded and said, “Donato is heading back to Havana, I bet we don’t see him much before noon tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” replied Jack, glancing at his watch. “I feel sorry for him tonight.”

“How so?”

“How receptive do you think Fidel will be to being woken up at this hour?”

Jack tried to sleep, but found it virtually impossible. By morning, he was just beginning to doze when the hotel came alive. After listening to the movement of hotel guests and the cheery voices of maids going about their business, he finally gave up on the idea. A cool shower helped him wake up before he put on a pair of cargo shorts and stepped out on his balcony. The day was hot, humid, and sunny.

“Can’t sleep?” called Laura.

Jack saw Laura on her own balcony and waved her over. Breakfast was included at the hotel, but, not wanting to take a chance of the Russians seeing them, they ordered room service.

Later, from their balconies, they could see the sandy white beaches and azure colour of the sea beyond. Neither one was able to appreciate the magnificent beauty as they paced back and forth in the room, trying to walk off the stress that accumulated with each passing hour.

It was ten-thirty at night when Jack answered the knock on his door and let Donato inside.

“I apologize for keeping you both waiting,” said Donato. Jack noticed that Donato was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday. The dark circles under his bloodshot eyes said that he hadn’t been to bed at all.

“That’s okay, Donato,” said Jack. “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to one of the two chairs in the room while he sat on the bed.

“Anything happen with the Russians today?” asked Laura.

“They drank lots and picked up prostitutes. Nothing of importance. Also nothing of importance found in their rooms.”

“Too bad,” said Jack.

“Now, on this matter,” said Donato, leaning forward in his chair. “We have a crisis that we need to discuss.”

“A crisis?” replied Jack. “I think we may have just averted one. I’m sure their meeting in Cuba is just a matter of convenience. If this turns out to be terrorists trying to attack the States, you can just notify them and be done with it. As far as Canada goes, our own Intelligence Service, along with the RCMP, will likely work with them.”

Donato shook his head and said, “It is not that easy, my friend. Are either of you familiar with the Cuban Five?”

“I never heard of it,” said Laura.

“I’ve heard of them,” said Jack. “I once did a Google search of the Cuban Five on the Internet. Lots of info, but it is difficult to understand and know who to believe.”

“Then perhaps you will believe me,” said Donato. “Our country has had many terrorist groups attack it over the years, including threats from expatriates and gangsters who are based out of Miami. In the mid-1990s we managed to get five undercover Intelligence Officers into some of the terrorist groups and uncovered plans to bring a boat full of explosives to Cuba.”

“Good going,” said Laura.

Donato shook his head to indicate she was wrong, and continued. “Our agents could have simply blown the boat up, but they were concerned that some innocent person could be injured. Perhaps an American citizen. Instead, my government informed the FBI about the boat and gave them documentation telling them who our agents were. The FBI seized the boat of explosives and arrested our five agents. That was in September 1998. They were charged with being spies in the U.S. and are still in prison.”

Oh, man, brooded Laura, sort of like Jack and I coming here ...

“So as you can see, our relationship is not good. We are concerned that the U.S. still considers us a terrorist state.

For someone now to meet on Cuban soil and plan such an attack on the U.S. ... it might give them reason to attack us, without having to say they were looking for weapons of mass destruction.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

“Do you understand our dilemma?” asked Donato.

Jack nodded and asked, “So what do you intend to do?”

“We will help, but we would prefer to pass the information through to you. We ask that you not disclose to the Americans where this information came from or that the Russians even came to Cuba.”

“You’ve got our word on that,” said Jack.

“After all, it would appear that Cuba was simply picked as an alternative to Costa Rica. Where the meeting takes place should not matter—but we cannot risk that the Americans would feel that way. Our position is that it is what is said at the meeting that could be of significance.”

“Not where it is said,” agreed Jack.

Donato nodded.

“So, despite how the States has treated you in the past, you are still willing to help them?” asked Jack.

“Of course. Many innocent people could be hurt if action is not taken. What is your expression? Two wrongs don’t make it right? We simply prefer that they never know we helped.”

“I won’t disclose where the meeting took place,” said Jack. “I’ll say that to do so would disclose the identity of a confidential source.”

Donato gave a wry smile and said, “I presume I am that source.”

Jack nodded and said, “I have a reputation for protecting my sources, so that is not unusual. The only problem could be with a Costa Rican policeman by the name of Eduardo. He knows we are here with the Russians, but it is extremely unlikely that he would present a problem.”

“I doubt that a Costa Rican policeman would ever connect your investigation, into what you indicated was cocaine importation, with a potential terrorist threat on the Americans.”

“Exactly. It is still a loose end, but his interest in the matter was only in relation to what was happening in Costa Rica.”

“If he ever did say something, then so be it.”

“Eduardo seemed like a good type. He did promise to keep our trip here secret.”

“Of course. To protect you from your boss ... the asshole,” said Donato.

“Yes, the pendejo,” said Laura.

Donato gave a faint smile and said, “Very good, Laura. Now you know two words of Spanish.”

Late the following morning, Jack, Laura, and Donato dressed in beach clothes and walked along a short street leading to the beach. On the way, Jack noticed a chain-link fence and a sign.

“Laura, look,” he said.

Behind the chain-link fence was a sign with two small Canadian flags attached. The sign identified the place as the Canadian consulate.

“Open from one-thirty to five-thirty every day except Wednesday and Sunday,” commented Laura, reading the sign. “Think we should pop in later and say hello?”

“Hell, no! I don’t even want to walk past this place again.”

The beach was the nicest of any Jack had ever seen. The sand was white and clean and his bare feet felt like he was walking on warm velvet. Any of the locals he encountered were quick with a smile.

They found a small restaurant facing the beach where four musicians strummed guitars and beat lively Latin music. They all ordered beer and a quarter roasted chicken that they took down to the beach, where they sat on lounge chairs and dangled their feet in the water. Jack decided that the cold Bucanero tasted just as good as it had the first night he arrived and for a moment, could feel his body start to relax.

Donato received a visit from one of his staff members.

“The Russians are walking this way on the beach,” said Donato. “If we go back to the restaurant we should see them pass by.”

As they stood under the awning of the restaurant, Laura was the first to comment. “I think that is just about the funniest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said.

Jack saw what Laura was looking at and immediately lost his appetite. “That’s not funny,” he replied, wondering if the chicken was perhaps a little too greasy.

The Russians strolled past on the beach. They each wore Speedos, along with black socks and sandals.

Later that evening, Jack bought a bottle of rum and the three of them returned to his room.

“Here’s to catching bad guys,” said Jack, raising his glass of rum and Coke. “No matter what nationality they are—or where they are in the world.”

“And to protecting the innocent,” added Donato, as the three of them clinked the glasses in unison.

“You have pictures of your family?” asked Jack, a moment later.

Donato nodded, taking out his wallet and showing a picture of his wife, three sons, and two daughters.

“My oldest son died,” said Donato softly, pointing at the picture. “It was night. He did not see the car coming. It had no lights. He was nine.”

“I am sorry,” said Jack.

“It has left a sadness in my wife’s eyes for two years now.”

Laura swallowed, and said, “Your children look beautiful.”

Donato beamed. “They are,” he answered, before asking, “You both have children?”

Jack shook his head. “I just got married a year and a half ago.”

“That is plenty of time to make a baby,” chuckled Donato. “In Cuba, we would have two babies by then. How about you, Laura? Children?”

“My husband and I have been trying for years. I became pregnant, but ...” she stopped and her eyes watered.

“I am sorry, Laura,” said Donato. “It was rude of me to ask such a personal question.”

“It’s okay,” she replied. “I really love children. Some day I will have one to call my own.”

“Likewise,” said Jack. “Likewise.”

“Then,” said Donato, “When this is over, the both of you must return for a visit. Bring your wife, Jack, and your husband, Laura. You are welcome to share my roof with my family. I would consider it an honour.”

“Perhaps the day will come where you are also free to travel,” said Jack. “I would also consider it an honour for you to come and stay with me.”

Donato nodded, but turned his gaze to the wall, wondering if that day would ever come.

Later that night, Jack went down to the lobby and sent Natasha an e-mail. He told her that he was being well cared for by the Cubans. They have little, but are willing to share what they do have, he wrote. A very proud people. I want to return here some day—with you!

The following morning, the Russians checked out of their hotel as scheduled. A different member of Donato’s staff took on the role of taxi driver and took them to Havana.

Jack and Laura went to pay for their rooms, only to be refused. “It was already looked after,” said the desk clerk.

Early that afternoon, Donato told Jack and Laura that the Russians checked into the Hotel Nacional in Havana. A place that Donato informed them was once frequented by Hollywood movie stars and old time gangsters like Al Capone.

Donato had Jack and Laura check in at the Hotel Saint John’s. It was a much more modest hotel located about a ten-minute walk away from where the Russians were staying. Jack, Laura and Donato were still in the lobby checking in when Donato received a call.

Donato put his hand over the receiver and whispered to Jack, “It is going as expected. Moustache Pete has already made a reservation tomorrow night at Al Medina. He reserved a table for four people.”

“Four?” replied Jack.

“Apparently they are meeting two people,” replied Donato. “The Russians are now drinking triple vodkas in the bar at the Hotel Nacional. One moment please,” added Donato, as he resumed his phone conversation in Spanish. “Bueno!” he said, and hung up.

“Good news?” asked Jack.

Donato smiled and said, “Prostitutes have now been invited to join them. I think tomorrow the Russians will be exhausted and sleep late. Our work will likely not begin until dinner time.”

“It will give Laura and me a chance to see Havana,” said Jack.

“Tomorrow, perhaps around eleven, I will meet you and give you both a tour of Havana. Tonight, I ask that you excuse me. I still have work to do and ...” Donato paused.

“And you would like to sleep with your wife,” added Jack.

Donato smiled and they said goodbye.

After checking into their rooms and cleaning up, Jack and Laura went to a restaurant beside the hotel before returning for a nightcap in the hotel lobby bar.

A vocal trio called the Trio Tesis were singing Latin songs in the lobby. Jack watched as the lead singer poured his heart out in a song entitled “Yolanda.” When the trio took a break, Jack discovered that the singer spoke English and purchased a compact disc of their songs.

“You’re very good,” said Jack. “You show a lot of emotion when you sing ‘Yolanda.’ Do you know someone by that name?”

“No,” he admitted. “But when I sing it, I think of my wife. She is a doctor and has been gone many months. The government sent her to help the people in Belize for six months. Soon she will return.”

When he left, Jack turned to Laura and raised his eyebrow.

Laura knew what he was thinking. “It’s amazing,” she said. “These people are so poor, yet they can still find it in their hearts to help others.”

“Not my impression of a terrorist state,” replied Jack.

The next morning, Jack and Laura strolled through the streets of Havana. The limestone Spanish architecture of the buildings would have made Havana, at one time, one of the most beautiful cities in the world. Now, most of the buildings were in a severe state of decay and were crumbling down. Inside, whole families lived in darkened vestibules. Mothers swept the limestone dust outside where children used sticks as bats to play ball amongst the rubble.

“Do you see that?” said Laura, gesturing to a young girl holding the hand of a little boy as they came out of a building that apparently was their home. The building was dark inside, with the only visible light coming from a single bulb dangling from a high ceiling on a piece of wire.

“They’re spotless,” added Laura. “The both of them.”

Jack saw the white shirts the children wore. They looked perfect. “I read a newspaper in the lobby this morning,” he said. “The paper was called Granma.”

“Granma?” asked Laura. “Sounds like you were in an old folk’s home.”

“Actually, it is the name of the official newspaper of the Central Committee of the Cuban Communist Party. Granma was the name of the yacht that brought Fidel Castro to Cuba in 1956 to start the Cuban Revolution.”

“So what’s it got to do with these children?”

“The newspaper is not what you would call a free press. But one thing was obvious. They take great pride in looking after and educating their children. There was also an article about them assisting Venezuela with their illiteracy problem.”

“Most appear to live in squalor, but ...”

“Exactly. They still work hard to improve themselves. You can see it in their faces. I’ve been through ghettos in Canada where people sat waiting for handouts. Maybe we could learn something from these people.”

“I suspect the government of Cuba is too poor to give much in the way of handouts,” replied Laura.

Jack and Laura met Donato as scheduled and he took them to a more popular tourist area in Havana. The area was comprised of a few square blocks where many of the buildings had been restored. It was also where the Arab restaurant was located. Another restaurant that was also a microbrewery was just down the street and they went there for lunch.

“You both went for a walk this morning,” said Donato. “What do you think of my Havana?”

“Fifty years ago, I believe that this would have been the most beautiful city on the planet,” said Jack. “It still is beautiful, but ...”

“Yes, I know,” said Donato sadly. “The American embargo. It has taken its toll. Medicine, school supplies, parts for automobiles ...”

“From what I have seen,” said Jack, “the Americans have forced the Cuban people to walk barefoot over the coals ... but they have never brought you to your knees.”

Donato smiled, and said, “They never will. Still, it is difficult to understand why amends have not been made.”

“Allowing Russia to plant missiles here to be used against the Americans—can you really blame them for the retaliation?” asked Jack.

“That was in 1962,” said Donato. “I, like most of my countrymen, weren’t even born yet. The American mafia was taking over our country. Casinos, gangsters, drugs ... was it so wrong to kick them out and invite the Russians?”

“It does seem like a long time to punish someone,” said Laura. “Will peace ever be made?”

“I have a theory on that,” said Jack, watching Donato’s face closely. “I think there is more to it than the missiles. Back in the early 1960s, Fidel was targeted by the Kennedy administration on numerous assassination attempts.”

“This is true,” said Donato, eyeing Jack curiously.

“JFK was assassinated in 1963,” continued Jack. “I think that Fidel was exasperated and struck back. I also think the CIA is aware of this and will never allow peace between your countries as long as Fidel is in power.”

Donato looked around nervously and said, “It is not good to talk of such things. No politics, please.”

For Jack, it brought home the realization that he was in a communist country. Freedom to express or exchange ideas could bring retribution.

Jack was concerned that he had upset Donato, but within minutes, Donato was smiling and later took them on a drive around the city.

They returned to the Saint John’s at four o’clock and the three of them waited in Jack’s room. The Russians had slept most of the day, but it was reported that each one was now cleaning up and getting dressed to go out.

Conversation in Jack’s room was minimal and stilted, as each wondered what tonight—and the future—would bring.

At five o’clock, Donato drove them back to the vicinity of the Al Medina. He parked the car and took them to a nearby church with a high cathedral entrance.

“You’ve got an OP in a church?” asked Jack.

“What is an OP?” asked Donato.

“Observation post.”

“Yes, I see. It is not a church anymore. The government has turned it into a museum. It is closed to the public at this hour.”

Jack was going to ask how the parishioners felt about their church being closed, but decided against it.

Donato led them to a small room in the back and they went inside and closed the door.

“We can’t see from here,” said Jack.

“It is not to see,” said Donato. “It is to listen,” he said, gesturing to a mass of electrical cord and recorders on a table. “Others will see for us,” he explained. “Don’t worry, there will be many pictures. This is for you and Laura to listen. You will hear with your own ears.”

“I would have believed you,” said Jack, realizing the work Donato went to in setting up this room. He understood why they would not have been allowed entry to the normal facility the Cubans would use for such activity.

Donato smiled and said, “Yes, my friend. I trust you, too. But if it ever happens that someone finds out that this meeting was in Havana, they may not believe what you tell them if you only receive the details from me. It is best to hear for yourselves. You may make notes if you like, but I will also supply you with a tape of what they say. You could record it on your own recorder, if you like.”

“Thanks. We’d never be allowed to enter the tapes as evidence in a Canadian courtroom, but it still might be good to have.”

Donato received a call on a portable radio and said, “They’ve just taken a taxi,” he said. “They are on their way.”

The Russians arrived about ten minutes ahead of their reservation, but their table was ready and they sat down.

Donato turned up the volume on a recorder and Jack and Laura could hear Fat Man and Moustache Pete talking to each other in Russian, over the clink of ice cubes and water being poured.

“I know their voices by now,” said Donato. “I will translate for you. Moustache Pete just said something about an incident at the airport. I do not know what airport. He said they still have to be careful.”

Jack heard the Fat Man laugh and make a comment.

Donato looked puzzled and translated. “Fat Man said, that is why they carry insurance. With the police, insurance is always good.”

Insurance? Wondered Jack. Is there a leak? A crooked cop or someone ...

“They’ve arrived,” said Donato. “Two Arab men. Expensive suits, Rolexes ...”

Jack heard the conversation switch to English when the two Arabs sat down with the Russians.

After some general polite talk, Jack heard one of the Arabs ask, “So, when can you deliver?”

“Our people in Sweden were successful,” said Moustache Pete. “We have two that would be most suitable. Sisters raised by a single mother. They’re thirteen and fifteen years old. Both have blonde hair, blue eyes, and, as we promised, their skin is as white as snow.”

Jack’s mouth gaped open in surprise. “This is white slavery!” he said. “Not drugs or terrorism at all!”

The recorder droned on. “And beautiful?” asked the Arab.

“Of course,” laughed the Fat Man. “Their mother thinks they are being accepted as models to do a photo shoot in Morocco. They are both beautiful! As promised, we will make delivery in June. Their mother is adamant about them finishing the school year.”

“And virgins ...” the Arab’s voice was lost over Jack’s outrage.

“These bastards are kidnapping kids to sell to the Arabs to be used as sex slaves!”

Laura saw a sense of relief on Donato’s face. A potential crisis with the U.S. had just been averted. She felt relieved herself, until she looked at Jack.

Is he enraged ... or in pain? He’s been around too long to be shocked by this. Why such anguish?

Back at the hotel in Jack’s room, Donato raised a glass of rum and Coke and said, “It went well tonight. I wish you every success in putting these two Russians in jail.”

“Hear, hear,” said Laura, clinking glasses.

“They will go to jail,” said Jack. “If it is the last thing I do on the section, I will see to that.”

“Perhaps, now,” said Donato, “your boss, Captain Pendejo,” he added, smiling at Laura, “will realize that they were worthy of your attention.”

“Perhaps,” said Jack, “except we can’t tell him what we learned or that we were even here. He would have us both fired. Regardless, even if I’m not in the section long, I will still get these guys.”

“Come on, Jack,” said Laura. “Like you said before, Quaile is fast-tracked up the corporate ladder. He won’t be around long. We just have to outlast him.”

“Moustache Pete and The Fat Man are going down,” said Jack adamantly, “one way or the other.”

“No problem,” said Laura, eyeing Jack curiously. “We just continue to work on them behind Quaile’s back. Knowing what we know now, I bet these two are supplying the women for Tran’s massage parlours. We could get VPD to help us, or we could help them. Now that we know what they’re really doing, it shouldn’t take us long to get the evidence we need.”

“Jack, Laura,” said Donato, “if you will excuse me, I still have work to do tonight. I will be here in the morning to take you to the airport.”

Laura waited until they bid good night to Donato, before turning her attention to Jack. “You going to tell me about it?” she asked.

“About what?”

“You’re keeping something from me. A secret.”

“A secret?” Jack spat out the word like it was poison.

“Yes, a secret,” repeated Laura.

Jack put his glass down on the table and turned to Laura and said, “It’s funny you used that word. Let me tell you about a secret.”

By the tone of Jack’s voice, Laura knew there was nothing funny about what she was about to hear.

“Did you know I used to have three sisters and a brother?” he asked.

Laura shook her head and said, “I just knew you had an older sister, Elizabeth, who lives out near Chilliwack.”

“I was raised in a family of secrets,” said Jack. “My father was a brutal, domineering prick who ruled the house with absolute power. That power included sexually molesting my sisters from the time they were four years old.”

Laura briefly closed her eyes and said, “Oh, Jack ... I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

Jack sighed and said, “Neither did I, back then. I knew about the physical and psychological abuse ... but even as a policeman, I didn’t know about the sexual abuse until recently.”

“Jack ... I’m sorry. Maybe this is something you don’t want to talk about?”

Jack shook his head. “That is what the pedophiles like my father want. To keep everything secret. To try and make the children ... the victims, somehow think they are responsible. They make the children think that they have to keep the secret to maintain family unity. I’m not embarrassed to talk about it. No victim should be, either.”

“How did you find out?” asked Laura.

“My youngest sister, Bonnie, finally found the courage to tell me. Once I knew, then others admitted they had been victims, too. It turns out there were a lot. Neighbourhood children, relatives—even before my father was married, he visit orphanages and bring candy.”

“Classic,” said Laura.

“It was classic, all right. My oldest sister left home as soon as she could. Got married, had kids, but died of complications giving birth to her third child. I knew she hated my father and was extremely protective of her children—but I was too blind to put it together.”

“Pretty tough to believe that about your own family,” said Laura, softly.

“I know. I felt like I was in shock when I found out. Bonnie moved out of the house early as well. I thought it was because of the psychological abuse and the physical beatings. But the signs were there ... and I missed them.”

Laura saw the recrimination and guilt on Jack’s face as he spoke.

“In any other family,” he continued, “I would have suspected it immediately, but with my own, the idea was incomprehensible. Bonnie lived alone in a trailer near Rocky Mountain House and took in all the stray animals that crossed her path. Classic symptoms, yet I missed it.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” said Laura. “It is normal not to believe—not to want to believe, something like that even exists. Let alone with your own family.”

Jack brushed her comment aside and continued, “Bonnie died of alcoholism a couple of years ago ... another classic symptom. I wanted so much to put him in jail, but none of the victims I found were willing to testify. The real sad thing is, all his victims lived with such a deep shame that they couldn’t find the courage to come forward. As a result, dozens upon dozens of other children were molested.”

“Where was your mother through all this?” asked Laura.

“That is something else I’m ashamed of. When Bonnie first told me, I naively imagined that my mother didn’t know. Of course she knew. All this couldn’t take place in a home without her knowing. Later I discovered that when they babysat children, my father would make his selection and my mother would take the other children for a walk so they wouldn’t see what was happening.”

“What kind of mother could allow that to happen?” said Laura, shaking her head.

“When I first found out and confronted my father, he was afraid he would be arrested. I actually made him write letters of apology. My mother threatened to make life hell on my sisters if I took any action. She reminded me that Bonnie was an emotional wreck and basically implied that if I did anything, her suicide would be on my hands.”

“God ... that’s awful.”

“Tell me about it. Now my father is in really poor health. A good lawyer could delay the proceedings until he dies. Hopefully I can celebrate that day soon. When the bastard first realized I couldn’t put him in jail, he would mock me on the phone. He loved to make people angry. I guess it made him feel powerful.”

“You said you had a brother?”

“He died several years ago. He left home when he was fourteen. Later, he educated himself, got married, had children and a good life. The odd thing is, despite having received the most severe beatings from my father, my brother still went through life trying to gain his respect and admiration.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I’ve heard of psychological testing where they would temporarily take away a baby monkey’s mother and replace it with a fake one, wrapped in barbed wire. Despite the pain, the baby monkey would still cling to it. My brother was like that. When he turned forty, he died of cardiac arrhythmia. He had continued to befriend and socialize with my father right up to his death, unaware, of course, that my father had an eye on his children as well.”

“Where’s your father now?” asked Laura.

“Lives in Red Deer. My mother is in a nursing home there. She has Alzheimer’s. Maybe nature’s way of letting her forget what kind of a mother she was.”

“People keeping secrets all those years.”

“Yeah. Think how many lives were ruined because nobody had the courage to come forward.”

Laura reflected upon what she had just been told and looked at Jack and softly said, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For trusting me with such a personal thing. For sharing your secret with me.”

“These things should not be kept secret. That is exactly what the perverts want. Everyone should know. It’s the only way to stop them.”

“I agree, but still, thanks for telling me. Helps me understand you better.”

“We’re operators. We’d better understand each other,” said Jack, seriously.

Laura nodded in agreement and said, “I know. Good friends,” she said, fighting to keep her emotions in check. “Now stand up.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Jack slowly got to his feet. Laura wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

“Thanks,” he said. “Sorry to unload that on you.”

“It’s like you said. It’s not the victims who should be ashamed. Now, two things,” said Laura, as she let go.

“What’s that?”

“Number one, pour each of us another rum. Number two, let’s figure out how to nail these Russians. I’m with you, whatever it takes.”

Jack nodded. “Thanks,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse. “As soon as we’re back in Canada, I’m going to notify Interpol. We’ve got a couple of phone tolls from the Russians to Sweden. Shouldn’t take them long to put a stop to things on that end.”

Laura was silent as Jack poured each of them another drink and said, “What about Quaile? You know he won’t let us work on them when we return.”

“Maybe he will when we get the proof we need. As Donato said, Cuba is only the meeting spot. Nobody needs to know. We can work with Commercial Crime during the day like Quaile wants, then go after the Russians at night. Like you suggested, we’ll work with VPD, too.”

“I’m with you,” said Laura. “Let’s get these guys ... whatever it takes.”

“Thanks,” said Jack, quietly.

chapter fourteen

It was Tuesday morning at eight o’clock when Jack and Laura presented themselves in Quaile’s office.

“You two have a nice vacation?” Quaile asked.

“It was okay,” replied Jack.

“So, it is apparent that you wasted your time, along with the office budget, by following the Russians to Costa Rica.”

Jack and Laura glanced at each other, and Jack said, “We heard from a reliable source since our return that they’re both involved in human smuggling. Abducting young girls or women to be used as prostitutes. I’ve already notified the authorities in Sweden, where we heard they are obtaining two young girls.”

“Really? Prostitution, you say? A week ago you said it was cocaine,” replied Quaile.

“I may have been wrong about ...”

“Or they might be doing that, too,” said Laura.

“Human smuggling, prostitution, whatever; that’s for Drug Section, Immigration, or City Vice. Not our concern. Now that you’re back, are you ready to go to work on what you should be working on?”

Laura was about to protest, but caught the slight movement of Jack’s head, indicating his disapproval.

“Well?” asked Quaile.

“Ready to go to work,” said Laura, sullenly.

Jack noticed that Quaile’s eyes remained fixed on him longer than was normal. He knows something ... Cuba?

“And you, Jack? Ready to apply yourself now?”

“You bet.”

“Good. Commercial Crime is having a general debriefing at one o’clock this afternoon. It will be a good time for you to catch up on what is going on.”

Later that morning, Jack was at his desk reading when Quaile came in and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Just updating myself on legislation and case law concerning fraudulent transactions relating to contracts and trade.”

“Good,” said Quaile, before leaning over and whispering, “Perhaps you should also brush up on the Motor Vehicle Act.”

“That would make more sense than studying French,” replied Jack.

Laura saw the angry look on Quaile’s face as he stomped out of their office. “What was that all about?”

Jack sighed and said, “I think he was just telling me that I’m being transferred to Highway Patrol. We may not have much time. We need someone inside one of the massage parlours to help us connect the Russians with the prostitution.”

“Sorry, Jack. I don’t think my husband would appreciate me working undercover as a prostitute in a massage parlour.”

“Couldn’t you at least ask him?” He waited until Laura smiled back at him and said, “Okay, be that way. That leaves us with the option of getting an informant. Guess I’m the one built for that job.”

“What? Acting drunk and horny?”

“You got it. I’ll start with Dúc’s place out in Surrey”

“Didn’t your friend from VPD Anti-Gang tell you these guys are dangerous? Kids with machetes?”

“What’s your point?”

“If things go wrong, it would be nice to have someone there who knows these people and could lend a hand.”

Jack nodded in agreement and reached for the telephone.

Detective Rocco Pasquali listened to Jack’s request and said, “Hey, I’ll be glad to help. I didn’t have anything planned tonight. Be good to get out of the city, even if it is just to Surrey.”

Hang knew that it was now or never. She took the lid off the toilet tank and disconnected the chain from the leaver and let it fall to the bottom of the tank. She stared inside for a moment and whispered aloud, “This is the only way, Linh. The American police are smart. They are like scientists. It will work.”

It has to ... as long as I’m found in time.

chapter fifteen

I t was eight o’clock at night when Jack left Laura and Pasquali in the car and walked into the Orient Pleasure.

Better time to make a selection, Jack decided. Late enough for the after-work crowd to have left and early enough to avoid the arrival of the bar crowd.

“Have you been here before?” asked a stocky young Vietnamese man behind a counter. His accent was heavy, but his English was passable.

“Not this particular joint ... no,” replied Jack.

“One hundred for a room,” the young man said. “You pay me now. We rent the room.”

“What kind of ... massage does that include?” asked Jack.

“What kind, is up to you and the girl,” he winked. “We just rent the room.”

“Listen, mate,” said Jack. “My needs are sometimes a little different. Last time I was in a place like this, the girl didn’t speak a word of English. Hard to tell her what I like. Your girls speak English?”

He smiled and said, “One girl speak good English. Her name is Jade.”

Jack paid the money and a minute later found himself alone in a small room with an attractive Vietnamese woman who was about eighteen years old. She was wearing a red wrap around her waist with a black emblem of a dragon on it. Her top was a short-sleeved white blouse unbuttoned enough to show most of her bare breasts when she bent over. A singlesized bed with white linen sheets and a chair were the only furniture in the room.

“So what you like?” asked Jade.

“Straight sex,” said Jack. “I already paid the guy out front. I better not have to pay you, too.”

“No, you no suppose to talk about that. What kind of sex you want?”

“Normal. You on the bottom and me on top.”

“You don’t need English for that,” said Jade, unbuttoning the rest of her blouse before releasing the tie on her wrap to reveal that she was naked underneath. “All girls understand that.”

“Put your wrap back on,” said Jack, “and do up your blouse.”

“Oh? You want me to give you hummer first?”

Jack shook his head.

“Blow job,” said Jade, while putting her wrap back on.

“I understood you,” replied Jack. “No!”

“Why you here, then? You want to fuck me different?”

“Listen to me carefully,” said Jack, “and do not speak until I’m finished!”

Jade stared back at him, frightened and confused. She was more frightened when he showed her his police identification and said he could arrest her and send her back to Vietnam.

“Please, Mister Police. No. They kill my family you do that!” she said in a hushed voice.

Jack knew the terror in her voice was genuine.

“I owe money for coming to Canada,” she continued. “Me no pay and they kill my family in Vietnam. Please ... no take me to jail.”

“I will not arrest you if you help me,” said Jack. “You tell me how you came to Canada. Who you work for. Explain everything to me.”

“No,” said Jade. “I talk to police ... then I die and my family die.”

“Nobody will know.”

“It is too dangerous.”

“If you don’t talk to me, then I will arrest you now for prostitution and deport you immediately back to Vietnam. I will also arrest Dúc and he will think you did talk. What do you think he will do then?”

Jade gasped and said, “No, please. No do that!”

Jack put his finger to his lips to get Jade to lower her voice again and said, “I keep my promises. You work for me and I will not tell anybody.”

Jade sat on the edge of the bed and hunched over to try and stop herself from trembling. Jack sat beside her and whispered, “Start by telling me your real name.”

“My name in Vietnamese is Ngoc Bích,” she said, while swallowing to hold back the tears. “It means Jade in English.”

“My name is Jack.”

Jade glanced at him and nodded silently.

“So tell me, Jade, how long have you been in Canada?”

Jade held her hands over her face and didn’t reply.

“Talk to me, Jade. It is the only way.”

Jade put her hands down and stared up at Jack’s face. “You can trust me,” he said quietly. “Help me and I will help you.”

Tears flooded her eyes and she wiped them away with the back of her wrist. “Okay,” she said. “I talk.” She paused to think, before saying, “I be in Canada three months now. I leave Vietnam four-and-half months ago. Boat take six weeks.”

“What boat?”

“I don’t know name. It very old. Made to carry big boxes ... not people. I come here with many other girls. Maybe forty. We go from boat to fish boat. Then to house. After three day, we put in back of truck. No windows. Then another boat. Short time, maybe two hour. We stay in back of truck. No see. We are told we get job in hotel.”

“This isn’t a hotel.”

“Men lie,” she said bitterly. “But no lie about money. I makes much money. I have mother and two brothers and two sisters. They poor. I send money home. Already send six hundred dollar in three months.”

“But not from working in a hotel,” said Jack.

“Mister Dúc will have Giang kill me if I talk,” said Jade, changing the subject.

“We won’t tell him. Who is Giang?”

“He work for Mister Dúc.”

“Is that the man at the front who took my money a few minutes ago?”

“No. That Cuóng.”

“What happened when you arrived and found out you would not be working in a hotel?”

“We are brought here. We are told what we must do. What men expect. I say no.” She stopped and her body started to shake as she remembered.

“What happened when you said no?” asked Jack quietly.

“Not good to talk to you,” said Jade. “Somebody find out and ...”

“Jade, we’ve been over that. Tell me what happened!”

Jade swallowed and replied, “I am beaten by Giang and ...” She then stopped and covered her face with her hands again.

Jack gently pulled her wrists down. “Jade, look at me.”

She nervously looked up at him.

“Giang raped you, didn’t he?”

Her eyes pooled and she nodded. “Not just Giang. By many men and boy who work for Mister Dúc,” she sobbed. “First night, I count twenty-three times ... then I stop counting. If I run away or no work, then men who bring me on boat go to Nha Trang and kill my family. I go to police ... same thing.”

“Other girls were gang-raped, too?”

“Not so much as me. I say no. Try to fight. They beat me. Giang, he stick gun between my legs,” she said, choking out the words. “I say, okay. No fight no more. Other girls smarter than Jade. They say, okay ... fast.”

Neither spoke for a little while as Jade stared blankly into space as her brain tried to erase what it could not. Eventually she said, “Mister Dúc have many bad men and bad boys work for him. One boy, Xuân, very bad. I think he fourteen years old. Xuân much respect Mister Dúc. Want to be like him, but now Xuân must do what Giang tell him. Giang in Vietnamese means river. With Giang, I tell other girls it mean river of death.”

“Why?”

“He sometimes bring drugs for girls. I no take drugs. Other girls say it help you forget. I never forget. I say drugs ... it help you die.”

“Does Dúc sell drugs?”

“No. Giang do that with other men. Mister Dúc just sell girls.”

“Who is Dúc’s boss?”

“Mister Dúc no have boss. Mister Dúc is boss.”

Jack brought out a picture from his jacket pocket. It was of Moustache Pete and the Fat Man. “Do you know these guys?”

Jade looked at the picture, and asked, “How you know these two men? They in Hanoi!”

“They’re both from Russia, but now they live in Vancouver. How do you know them?”

“They come and look at me and girls before we leave Hanoi on boat. I not know their names. They just look and then we go to boat. I never see them again.”

Jack felt a rush of adrenalin. Solid lead ... but what good is it if Jade can’t testify? Even if we protect her, we still can’t protect her family .... “Was Dúc in Hanoi, too?” he asked.

“No. Many other men in Vietnam do work there. Mister Dúc stay in Canada.”

“Dúc lets you send money home?”

“Yes. It is good. Maybe good thing I make much money. My family very poor. Soon they buy house because of me.”

Jack sighed and looked directly into her eyes. “Does your family really believe you are a maid in a hotel?” he asked, skeptically.

Jade’s face darkened. She replied, “Other girls send money home. Some peoples talks. Maybe my family say they think I in hotel ...” She stopped talking and burst out crying. Between gasps of air she said, “They no believe that—but they still take money I send.”

The sound of her crying brought hurried footsteps down the hall. A fist pounded on the door and a Cuóng yelled in Vietnamese.

Jack put his hand behind his back and rested it on the 9mm tucked in his belt.

Jade yelled something in Vietnamese and Jack heard Cuóng laugh and walk away.

“What did you just say?” he asked.

“I tell Cuóng you want me pretend to cry because you are too big inside me. Okay?”

Jack took a moment to take a deep breath and said, “Okay.”

“My family ... know,” continued Jade. “They know I am whore. They never take me back—but they buy house ... so that is good for me to give to brothers and sisters.”

“I’ll figure out a way to get you out of here,” said Jack. “Just give me a little time.”

“No. I need send more money home,” said Jade.

“Jade, you are smart. Think about it. You need to get out of here.”

“No. Too late. I am already a whore. If I go now—I am still a whore. Only a whore with no money and my family die.”

“You’re not ...” Jack paused when he saw that Jade had made up her mind. “Damn it ... do you have access to a phone?”

Jade nodded and said, “Sometimes I pick up lunch for people and bring here. Sometimes I go get laundry for beds.”

“I’ll give you my cellphone and home phone numbers. If you need help, call me. There are other ways to make money.”

“Not so much as this,” said Jade.

“This is costing you too much,” said Jack.

“Fruit now rotten,” said Jade. “Can never fix now.”

“You’re wrong. Think about my offer. If you want out, I will do it in such a manner that nobody will know.”

“How?”

“Do you want out now?”

Jade paused, and shook her head.

“When you do, I’ll figure out a way. You work for me and soon Dúc and the two men in the picture will be arrested. Then for sure I will get you out of here safely. Is it a deal?”

Jade sighed and said, “Yes ... I deal.”

“In the meantime, if something happens, or if the Russians show up, let me know.”

“Okay.” Jade looked at the clock on the wall and said, “Only five minute more. You pay for me ... you want?” she asked hesitantly.

“No!” exclaimed Jack in frustration. “I’m here to help you, not to fuck you.”

Jade threw her arms around Jack’s neck and kissed him on the cheek. He was startled and grabbed her arms to fling her off.

Damn it! Doesn’t she understand why I’m here?

He heard her sob and knew that she did. He felt guilty that he had misinterpreted.

It was dark and Linh and her fellow passengers were allowed on deck for a chance to walk and breathe in some fresh air. Linh felt the ship shudder and a sense of dread overtook everyone as the ship’s engines slowed. The sound of worried voices arose from different clusters of women around the deck.

Dread was soon replaced by excitement as the message spread like the ripples from a rock being tossed in a pond.

We are slowing down on purpose so that tomorrow night it will be dark when we enter Canadian water!

chapter sixteen

“How did it go?” asked Laura as soon as Jack returned to the car.

“You were gone long enough,” said Pasquali. “Hope you didn’t get cold feet and stiffen up in there.”

Jack ignored the comment and said, “I met one of the working girls. She talked.”

Jack relayed everything Jade had told him, including the Russians being in Hanoi.

“Where to from here?” asked Laura, her mind still sickened by what she had just heard.

“I’m going after Giang,” said Jack, bitterly.

“How?” asked Pasquali.

“UC. First, I’ll gain his trust on a coke deal. Then play it up that Laura and I are opening a massage parlour. Not here, Dúc wouldn’t want the competition. I’ll tell him it’s in Edmonton and we’re looking for Asian girls because they’re popular. I’ll ask him if he knows anyone or someone who would want girls to work the circuit for a little variety.”

“Hoping he will lead you to Dúc,” said Pasquali.

“Who might introduce us to the Russians,” finished Laura. “It might work.”

Jack looked at Pasquali and asked, “You once told me that Giang hangs out at either Lucky Lucy’s Bar and Grill, Billiard Bill’s, or what was that restaurant?”

“The Mekong Palace,” said Pasquali, “But it’s closed now. I have to tell you ... Giang isn’t too susceptible to a UC. We just tried. Giang wouldn’t even talk to our operators.”

“A couple of weeks ago you told me Giang wasn’t all that important,” said Jack. “Not worth the price of a bottle of olives for my martinis. What’s changed?”

“The assholes, Giang’s boys, put the Mekong Palace out of business. The owner was a nice old guy. Worked hard all his life to get his own business, now it’s gone.”

“What happened?” asked Jack.

“Xuân, being the sweet fourteen-year-old kid that he is, went in there a couple of weeks ago with some of his buddies. He demanded two hundred and fifty dollars of protection money. The owner refused so the gang terrorized the place and threatened to kill everyone inside.”

“These are kids?” asked Laura.

Pasquali nodded and said, “Xuân, at fourteen, led the bunch. They held a filleting knife to an employee’s throat while they robbed the cash register. Xuân shouted, you play with God; from now on you have to pay five hundred! He made a waitress kneel on the floor and fired a round from a semi-auto handgun into the floor beside her. The floor was concrete so the bullet fragmented and went everywhere. When they left, they told the owner that if he called the police they would return and kill everyone.”

“What happened?” asked Laura.

“The owner called us. We scooped up Xuân and he’s being held. I searched his bedroom myself. The walls were covered with cut-out pictures of guns. Unfortunately for the Mekong Palace, most of the employees quit and customers are now afraid to go there. The owner is trying to sell, but the word is out and nobody is even looking at the place.”

“Was Giang involved?” asked Jack.

“The protection money thing would be right up his alley, but nothing we could prove.”

“I want Giang,” said Jack angrily.

“So do we. As a result of the Mekong Palace we had the narcs do a UC and try to buy coke from him. No luck. Since Xuân got busted Giang is even more paranoid, and if you think Xuân is bad, Giang is even scarier. Wild mood swings. He’ll be laughing one second and then go into a rage and slash your throat the next. You know what he did to your CI. He’s not the type you can just approach on your own. Our guys had a snitch do an intro and he still wouldn’t deal with them.”

“Then I’ll get him to approach me,” said Jack. “Do you know what Giang drives?”

“A new Pontiac GTO sports car. Red. Why?”

“Let’s take a drive and see if we can find him,” said Jack.

“You got the money on you to buy a kilo of coke?” asked Pasquali. “Giang doesn’t deal in the small stuff.”

Jack shook his head and said, “Our boss doesn’t want us to work on him so we don’t have any budget.”

“Our department can’t afford this. Sorry. How the hell can you even approach him?”

“As I said, I’ll get him to approach me,” replied Jack. He looked at Laura and asked, “Do you mind giving our narcs a call? See if any operators are working tonight that could spare half an hour to help me?”

“You need an operator?” asked Laura. “What am I? Chopped liver?”

“Far from it,” replied Jack. “If this works, you’ll be needed in Act Three.”

Jack explained his plan as they drove over to Billiard Bill’s. The red GTO was not around so they drove back to Vancouver and headed past The Asian Touch and arrived at Lucky Lucy’s Bar and Grill farther down the street. They saw the red GTO parked nearby.

Laura learned that a trained undercover operative from Drug Section by the name of Sammy was available.

“Jack, don’t do this,” pleaded Pasquali. “They’re violent. Knives guaranteed and someone is always packing a piece. They’ll slice and dice your ass and feed your body to the rats. I mean that.”

“I’ll be in and out before you know it,” said Jack, while taking off his gun and holster and passing it to Laura. He next gave her his police identification.

“Think about this!” snapped Pasquali. “Nailing a pair of Russians for bringing in hookers isn’t worth the risk. We’d be lucky if they each got two years in jail.”

“I just met one of the hookers,” said Jack. “It’s worth it to me.”

Jack carried a small backpack in one hand as he shoved the door open into Lucky Lucy’s. He dropped the backpack on the floor and stumbled as he picked it up before gawking around as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room.

Giang, along with about twenty of his cronies, sat at tables near the only pool table. There were no other customers and everyone except Jack was Asian. The only woman in the place worked behind the bar.

The silence that descended and the glares he received would normally have caused any sober man to turn around and head back out the door.

“Hooray!” yelled Jack, looking at them. “Men! Not lying, forgetful broads who don’t remember to treat a guy like how he should be treated!”

Jack turned to the barmaid and yelled, “It’s my birthday today! I’m buying a drink for every man in this place! Make mine a gin martini.” He paused to regain his balance and said, “Aw, okay sweetie. You’re doing the work ... you can have a drink, too.”

Jack tossed a wad of cash on the bar and said, “If it ain’t enough, let me know. If it’s too much, keep the change.”

He turned to the group of men and shouted, “Sorry guys, I’m not cheap, but I can only stay for one.” He paused and said, “What the hell, I bet you guys don’t even speak English.” He made a motion to drink and said, “Birthday!” and gestured with his thumb at his chest.

By a few of the amused looks and a couple of smiles from the men, Jack knew that he was at least temporarily welcome. He sat in a chair at a table that was one table away from where Giang sat and placed the backpack at his feet.

Act One, successfully completed, mused Jack.

Giang’s suspicions were aroused seconds later when he heard Jack use his cellphone.

“Sammy! I’m at a place called Lucky Lucy’s. Twelve-hundred block on Kingsway. You have twenty minutes or I’m gone. No more jerking around. Now or never!”

Giang studied Jack carefully. He only appeared to be drunk when he came in. He forgot to sound drunk when he made the call.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Giang whisper to a couple of the men. Their smiles disappeared and one of them reached inside his jacket, but Giang shook his head and whispered to him again.

Twenty minutes went by and Giang watched as the newcomer slurred his voice and carried on a one-sided friendly banter with those who were enjoying their free drinks. Then the next newcomer strode in.

“Hey, Sammy, over here!” commanded Jack.

To Giang, it was obvious that the man playing the drunken fool was not drunk. Perhaps a fool, though?

Sammy approached and stood squinting down at Jack as his eyes focused. “You got it?” he asked.

Jack picked up the backpack from off the floor and it landed with a thud as he dropped it on the table in front of him. “You seen it before. It’s all here. Now where’s the stuff?”

Sammy gave a pertinent little grin and unzipped his jacket.

“You’re looking a little thin these days,” said Jack. “I’d say you’re down about a kilo from what you should be.”

“You got that right,” snarled Sammy, pulling his jacket back slightly to expose the handle of a pistol shoved in his belt. “Hand it over and keep your hands where I can see ’em!”

The reaction from the men sitting at the tables was instant. Several reached inside their own jackets and in other men’s hands, knife blades appeared and were held ready under the tables.

“Sammy, take a look around,” said Jack coolly. “Have you met my friends?”

Sammy glanced at the men sitting around Jack, as if seeing them for the first time.

“Jesus!” Sammy yelled before bolting out the exit.

Jack was already on his cellphone. “Laura! It ain’t snowin’ tonight. Sammy was gonna rip me. I told you he was no good! See ya back at the apartment.”

Jack grabbed his backpack and was two steps away from the table when Giang shouted a command in Vietnamese.

Several men immediately grabbed Jack by the arms and shoved him back into his chair.

“You’re not going anywhere,” said Giang.

“Oh shit,” said Jack. “You do speak English!” He paused as he felt the sharp edge of a knife prodding his Adam’s apple toward the back of his throat.

Jack looked up at the circle of men standing around him. “Okay guys, take it easy,” he said, realizing that the nervousness in his voice was real. “Stupid thing for me to do. Let me go. I’ll just walk out of here and leave the backpack behind.”

Giang bent over so his face was close enough for Jack to smell the fish sauce on his breath. Giang sneered and said, “Maybe you will walk out—first, let me see what present you have decided to give me.”

Giang picked up the backpack and smiled as he opened the zipper. He looked inside and his smile vaporized. His jaw clenched and the tendons rippled on his neck as he reached inside.

The man holding the knife jerked slightly and Jack felt the abrasion on his throat as Giang slammed the phone book down on the table.

chapter seventeen

“I don’t like it,” said Pasquali, staring at his watch. “Two minutes and counting.”

“Nobody has come flying out through a window,” said Laura. “That’s a good sign.”

“Laura, you copy?” asked Sammy.

Laura thumbed the mike and said, “Go ahead.”

“No activity out back. Quiet as a tomb.”

Great choice of words, Sammy ... you jerk. “It’s quiet out front, too,” radioed Laura. “Just keep the alley covered. We’ll give him another three minutes. If I haven’t heard from him by then, I’ll go in for a look.”

“Damn it, he could be chop suey by then,” muttered Pasquali. “I should have uniform walk through.”

Laura shook her head and said, “How often does that happen? If everything is okay, that could burn him.”

“If everything is okay, why hasn’t he called?” responded Pasquali.

Laura didn’t reply as she stared at her own watch. Oh, man ... I hate this!

Jack looked at Giang and pointed to the phone book and said, “Keep it. You never know when you might need to call someone.”

Giang stared at Jack incredulously for a moment and started laughing.

Pasquali’s words came back to haunt Jack. He’ll be laughing one second and go into a rage and slash your throat the next second.

“What you just did ... that is funny,” said Giang. “You are smart, using us like that.”

“Glad you have a sense of humour,” replied Jack. “I’ll buy you all another round on my way out.”

“No,” replied Giang. “You just used us. I don’t like being used.”

“My apologies.”

“Perhaps you can make that up to me.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“I will buy you a drink ... for your birthday. And then we will talk.” He gave a command in Vietnamese and the man with the knife returned to his own table.

Jack looked nervously at the men around him.

“It is okay,” said Giang. “We will talk in private ... up near the bar. Don’t forget your phone book.”

“You can have it,” said Jack.

“I don’t need it. If I need to reach out and touch someone, I use them,” he snickered, gesturing to the men with his thumb.

“Think I could use another martini,” replied Jack. “A double, if you don’t mind.”

“My men scare you?” said Giang. “A double ... yes,” he said, giving a shrill laugh.

“Also better phone my girl,” said Jack. “Let her know I’ll be late. Don’t want her to freak out and think Sammy came back.”

An hour later, Jack joined Laura and Pasquali back in the car.

“Went well,” said Jack. “Giang wants to sell me a key of coke. I told him I was too rattled after what happened tonight to do anything. We agreed to talk in a day or two. I told him I was starting a business in Edmonton. I said that one more dope deal would mean I wouldn’t need a mortgage.”

“Wasn’t he pissed off over the Sammy thing?” asked Pasquali.

“He was irked to start with, but ...”

“Irked?” said Pasquali. He had too much experience investigating gangs to know that irked was not a strong enough description for the likes of men like Giang.

“Okay, it was a little tense, like you said it would be,” admitted Jack. “But, like I said, he’s greedy ... and that won out. Actually, when he calmed down he decided it was funny.”

“Nothing about Giang is funny,” said Pasquali. He looked at Jack closer and added, “I don’t recall seeing that you cut yourself shaving this morning?”

Jack gently rubbed the abrasion on his throat and said, “Okay, he was really pissed off, but he’s okay now.”

“Damn it, I tried to warn you,” said Pasquali.

“You’re just upset that you’re going to have to fork out some money for a jar of olives,” said Jack. “Everything is okay.”

Laura eyed Jack’s neck and rolled her eyes. “With Act Three,” she said, “I will be with you.”

“You got it. First I’ll build up his greed and raise his expectations on the cocaine, then you come in and cancel the dope deal. He’ll feel let down and think he’s about to lose out.”

“I tell you that we can’t buy the coke because we need capital to try and entice some girls to start working for us in Edmonton,” said Laura.

Jack nodded and said, “Hopefully he’ll figure he can still salvage a deal and introduce us to Dúc or on up to the Russians.”

“You going to meet him tomorrow?” asked Pasquali.

Jack shook his head. “I don’t want to appear that eager. I’ll have him wait a few days—take away some of his confidence. Give him a bit of a roller-coaster ride on this. One minute he envisions the money in front of him and the next minute he thinks it’s gone.”

It was midnight when Connie Crane, from the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team, ducked under the yellow crime-scene tape blocking the alley and made her way to the cluster of police officers. They were gathered around behind an apartment building.

Homicide Sections from the B.C. lower mainland, with the exception of Vancouver and Delta, had combined into what was now known as the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team, but was commonly referred to as “I-HIT.”

Connie was approaching retirement and had spent much of her career investigating homicides. She was a walking encyclopedia when it came to murder and was considered a valued asset on the I-HIT unit.

When other homicide investigators were initially repelled by some of the more grisly murders they encountered, Connie would just shrug her shoulders and say, “Come on, guys. It’s just a body. It won’t bite. Let’s find out who did it.”

Her cool, calculating mind was in high demand and her presence was requested at many scenes. Some cases were easy. Like the time she listened to the sobs of a couple who told another investigator that their baby had rolled off the changing table and died when her head struck the floor.

“Arrest them both,” she whispered to the investigator. “Shaken Baby Syndrome. This kid wasn’t old enough to roll yet.”

Other investigations, like the pig farm, were much more complicated and drawn out, but her energy and determination never waned.

When she got closer, she saw a police officer trying to take a statement from a grubby, bearded man who was sitting on the ground while holding his head and rocking back and forth.

She recognized the chubby profile of a man peering inside the Dumpster with a flashlight as that of her partner. “Hey, Wellsy! What have we got?”

Wells turned around and said, “Hi, CC. You tell me. A lady from the apartment building heard a homeless guy screaming like he was being killed. She called it in. Turns out that Homeless Harry was Dumpster-diving when he found something other than empties.”

“Homeless Harry got a record?” asked Connie.

“Nothing serious. Uniform know him. They say poor Harry has a ton of psychiatric problems and is an alcoholic, but is also as gentle as a lamb and generally avoids the human race. Don’t think this will help him any.”

Connie used her own flashlight to look into the dumpster. A distorted face of a girl stared back at her from a ripped garbage bag. She appeared to be naked and was in a fetal position with her hands up near her mouth.

“Been dead for a while,” said Wells. “Most of her skin is abscessed and rotting.”

Connie used the end of her flashlight to nudge open the plastic bag a little further. “You’re wrong,” she said. “Check out the blood. This body is fresh.”

Something else about the body did not seem right to Connie—then she saw it.

“Take a look Wellsy,” she said, using the beam of light from her flashlight as a wand.

Wells stared for a moment and said, “I see it! What the hell?” he said, stepping back. “What kind of freak—Jesus! What do we have here?”

chapter eighteen

It was three o’clock in the afternoon when Isaac answered his secretary’s call.

“Doctor Henckel on the line for you, sir.”

“Put her through ... Aggi! How are you doing?”

“Good. One more autopsy and I’m done for the day. What can Leon and I bring for dinner tonight? How about I pick up a cake for dessert?”

“Don’t worry about it. Sarah already baked an apple pie.”

“Sounds fancy.”

“No, not at all. Don’t dress up. We’re having our first barbecue for the year. Sarah is going to cook a turkey on the rotisserie.”

“That’s why you invited me! You want me to carve!” laughed Aggi.

Isaac chuckled and replied, “Hey, you’ve been a pathologist for the last twenty years, I figure you must have learned something!”

“We’ll bring some Sauvignon Blanc,” said Aggi. “See you at seven.”

Aggi returned to the morgue as Connie Crane arrived.

“Good to see you, Connie,” said Aggi. “You witnessing this one?” she asked as they walked over to the body just wheeled in from the cold storage locker.

Connie nodded.

“Must be important. Haven’t seen you down here in a long time. Better you than those fresh-faced kids you’ve been sending lately. Half of them can’t even keep their lunch down.”

Connie didn’t reply and for the first time, Aggi took a close look at her. She saw the smeared mascara and the tear-stained cheeks. “My God, Connie ... what is it? You look awful.”

“Never made it to bed last night,” said Connie lamely, as she pulled the sheet back. “Look ... her thumb ... she has an extra ... thumb ... growing out of the side of it.”

Connie’s voice was a monotone. It drudged out of her body like she was a robot talking on slow speed. “My partner thought ... she was a freak ... but she’s ... just a kid.”

Aggi looked down at the body and took one step back in horror.

It was seven-forty when Isaac answered his door and invited Leon and Aggi inside.

“Sorry, we’re late,” said Leon, looking helplessly at Aggi.

“I forgot the wine,” said Aggi. “Came direct from work ... sorry.”

The evening slowly progressed from one uncomfortable silence to another. The Isaac’s deduced that Aggi and Leon had a fight. Part way through dinner, Aggie dropped her knife and started crying.

“I’m sorry,” she said, moving to leave the room.

“Honey,” said Leon getting to his feet.

“No,” she said, gesturing for him to stay. “I need a minute alone. I’m sorry, everyone. I’m okay. I just need a minute.”

Seconds later, Isaac heard the door to his den close.

“Leon?” he asked.

Leon shook his head. “Something happened to her at work today. An autopsy she did on a suicide of a child. She’s been doing this for over twenty years. It’s been years since I’ve seen her break down like this.”

“I’ve had a few tough cases in my life,” said Isaac. “Suicides of children are never easy. I’ll go talk to her.”

Isaac sat with Aggi in his den and she temporarily regained her composure enough to talk to him. She rapidly told him the details like anyone in her profession would.

Unidentified Asian female child between the ages of ten and fourteen. Found in a Dumpster in Surrey. Hesitation marks and puncture wounds on her wrists correspond to marks on her hand. Not defensive wounds. She used a thin rod of some sort, likely metal, to puncture and tear open the radial artery in her wrist, causing her to bleed to death. She had been scrubbed ... inside and out with bleach. No DNA. Stomach contents ... nothing ... as was her digestive tract.

After this, Aggi lost her composure. Through intermittent crying spells, Isaac heard about the torture the child had endured. Aggi’s words spilled out as a mixture of medical jargon and raw human emotion.

Isaac was stunned as he listened ... and found himself staring at the picture of his own daughter on his desk. Norah ... killed by a drunk driver ... but this ... Lord, why?

“Obviously victim to a pedophile who is a sexual sadist,” Aggi deduced, while struggling once more to gain control of her emotions. “Marks on her ankle show she was chained. By her condition and the phases of various fractures I would say she’s been held somewhere for at least three to four months. Maybe longer.”

“Who is the investigator from I-HIT?” Isaac asked.

“Connie Crane attended the autopsy. Incidentally, Connie said that the loss of sight in one of the child’s eyes, including how that occurred, will be hold-back information.”

Isaac nodded and said, “Corporal Crane’s reputation is solid, but I’ll still give her boss a call tomorrow. This is not going down as a suicide.”

“That’s what Connie said, too,” acknowledged Aggi. “Nobody—especially a child, could endure such abuse. Obviously, that is the reason she committed suicide.”

Isaac agreed.

They were both wrong.

Isaac sat in bed reading as Sarah stood in their ensuite, washing off the last of her makeup. He thumbed through the psychiatric text and scanned the page describing the profile of a sexual sadist:

The sadist wants sexual or psychological domination ... that may include imprisoning the victim through the use of restraining devices such as chains, handcuffs, plastic ties.... Acts performed on the victim may include whipping, electrical shocks, beating, burning, mutilation, biting, urinating, or defecating on the other person ... rape, murder ...

Isaac pondered over Aggi’s description of the victim. Everything that happened to that girl, except the personal touch of murder ... along with the burning, biting, urinating, and defecation. Then again, the child was washed in bleach—perhaps the last two acts had occurred.

“What are you reading, dear?”

Isaac quickly put the book down as Sarah climbed into bed. “Just work,” he replied.

Three hours later, Isaac got out of bed and slipped on his housecoat. He found himself sitting in his den, staring at his daughter’s picture.

My sweet Norah, you know the pain that Sarah and I have suffered since your accident. Some day we will be together in heaven ...

He turned his gaze to the window and out into the night sky. The child that Aggi told me about ... does she have parents? When they find out, what will they feel? Unfathomable, even for me to know.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to block the images of what that child had endured. Eventually he resorted to saying the Lord’s Prayer.

“You are faster than a monkey with stolen fruit!”

Linh looked up from the deck of the fishing trawler to the rope ladder dangling from the ship above. The young woman who uttered the words waved at her, and started her descent over the side of the ship.

Linh smiled and decided that she had descended faster than even a monkey could.

Very soon I will be together with Hang—and my new family!

chapter nineteen

It was seven-forty-five in the morning when Staff Sergeant Randy Otto received the call from Isaac.

“Are you still Corporal Crane’s supervisor?” asked Isaac.

“Yes, sir,” replied Randy.

“Are you up to date on this Asian child found in the Dumpster?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Randy. “Found the night before last. Corporal Crane attended the autopsy yesterday afternoon. She said it was a suicide but actually ...”

“This was not a suicide!” said Isaac, harshly. “Try reading section 222 of the Criminal Code! A person commits culpable homicide when he causes the death of a human being through threats or fear of violence to do anything that would cause their death! I don’t have the Code in front of me, but that’s pretty damn close!”

Randy had never heard Isaac swear before. What brought this on?

“Sir,” Randy said. “I am familiar with that section of the Code. Your description, as I recall, is accurate. I hadn’t meant that we were treating this case as a suicide. I only meant to inform you of that detail before explaining the unbelievable abuse this kid suffered.”

“Oh,” replied Isaac. He sighed and his voice softened as he said, “The pathologist on this matter is a personal friend of mine who was over for dinner last night. I am only too aware of what this child went through. I am sorry if I snapped at you.”

“It’s okay, sir,” replied Randy. “I have two daughters of my own. This case is particularly upsetting.”

Isaac was silent for a moment as he looked at Sarah and Norah’s picture on his desk. Now when he spoke, his voice sounded saddened. “I have to admit, I didn’t get much sleep last night—and when I did, the whole situation gave me a nightmare.”

“I understand, sir.”

“I don’t want to interfere with your work. It’s always top notch. I just want to be kept up to date on the details. Anything you need, you let me know.”

“Yes, sir. At the moment it doesn’t appear that she was even reported missing. We’re checking with schools, hospitals—she has an extra thumb. Somebody must know her.”

It was noon and Jack and Laura were sitting at their desks, reading volumes of information from Commercial Crime files in regard to a suspected stock manipulation.

Jack shook his head as he once again glanced at a link-chart where lines and dotted lines told of connections amongst various corporations, companies, and people involved.

“This stuff is unbelievable,” he commented. “No wonder it takes them years to figure out if they can, or even should lay a charge.”

“Does give me a new respect for Commercial Crime,” said Laura. “I find it boring, but it takes brains to decipher all this.”

Jack received a call on his cellphone and quickly jotted down an address. When he hung up, he said, “Come on, time for you to meet someone. It’s my new friend from the Orient Pleasure. She wants to talk in person and only has an hour off for lunch. Sounds urgent.”

Jack and Laura slowly drove down an alley and Jack stopped the car briefly as Jade quickly climbed into the back seat and lay down out of sight. Jack drove to an underground parking lot where they could talk.

Jade was polite when she met Laura, but focused her attention on Jack. “I have news,” she said. “But you arrest Mister Dc, what happen to me?” she asked.

“I told you I could get you out,” said Jack. “Safely. Nobody would know.”

“I need little more money,” said Jade. “To buy house for brothers and sisters. More time.”

“If Dúc is arrested, it is unlikely he would be in jail more than a day or two to start with. If the Orient Pleasure were to close, he would have someone re-open it someplace else.”

“You would allow him?” asked Jade.

“Our judicial system would allow it to happen. We need very strong evidence to arrest people. It takes time and once Dúc is arrested, he will simply have someone else take the risk. Even if convicted, he would not be in jail long. This is not your concern. Tell us what is going on.”

“You know Cuóng?”

“That was ...”

“He man who take your money when you come to lay with me,” interrupted Jade.

“I know him,” said Jack, catching a glance from Laura. “The young fellow who works on the front counter.”

“Yes, that him.”

Jack coughed to clear his throat and said, “Tell my partner that I did not ... lay with you.”

“Oh!” A look of concern fleeted across Jade’s face as she looked at Laura and said, “Jack no fuck me. He nice man.”

Laura looked at Jack, opening her eyes just slightly, pretending that she had doubts.

“I hear Mister Dúc tell Cuóng he must rent big truck today after work. Cuóng take Tommy and go get more girls to come here.”

“Who is Tommy?” asked Jack.

“He work at Asian Touch. He Vietnamese, but no speak Vietnamese. Only English.”

It was eight-fifteen at night when Jack and Laura drove their car onto the last ferry of the day, leaving from the Tsawwassen terminal. The ferry was bound for Duke Point, near Nanaimo on Vancouver Island. The cube van, being driven by Cuóng, with Tommy as a passenger, was a few vehicles ahead of them on the ferry.

Two hours later, they disembarked and headed north on Highway 19 from Nanaimo and west on Highway 4.

“Think we’re going to Port Alberni?” asked Laura.

“Could be, but my guess is closer to the ocean where a fishing boat could moor.”

It was shortly after one o’clock in the morning and they were nearing Tofino before Jack and Laura saw the cube van leave the highway and turn down a gravel driveway leading into the woods.

Jack continued past the driveway and parked on the shoulder of the road. They didn’t have to wait long. Less than half an hour passed and the truck reappeared, retracing its path and eventually heading east on Highway 4.

“Back to the ferry,” suggested Laura.

“Good thing,” replied Jack. “Be hard to explain to Quaile what we’re doing on Vancouver Island instead of listening to whose filing cabinets we’re going to seize in a couple of years.”

“That’s right,” said Laura. “I forgot. There’s a meeting with Commercial Crime at eight tomorrow morning.”

“Hopefully, Quaile will think that’s where we are,” replied Jack. “I’ll call Commercial Crime in the morning and say we’re tied up and to start without us.”

They followed their quarry, catching the first ferry from Duke Point, departing at five-fifteen in the morning. They disembarked two hours later in Tsawwassen and by seven-forty-five they had followed the truck to a residential address in Richmond.

Jack kept his head turned as if he were talking to Laura and drove by just as Cuóng was backing the truck up a driveway to a home with an attached garage.

“The truck’s too big to go inside,” said Laura.

“I’ll turn around and drive past again.”

“Tommy eyed us going by,” warned Laura.

“We’ll make it look like you dropped me off,” replied Jack.

Laura switched places with Jack and slowly drove past the house again. She caught a glimpse of several Asian women being ushered inside the garage.

“You can get your head out of my lap now,” she said.

“I don’t know,” replied Jack. “Feels sort of comfortable. Think I’ll take a nap.”

A second later, Jack yelped as Laura twisted his ear and sat up.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Find a good spot to watch with the binos and hope that our Russian friends show up. If they do, I think we should call in the troops and make arrests.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Let’s see what happens,” replied Jack, tersely. “We need the evidence on them, not these peons.”

“You heard what they do to break these women in.”

“I know.”

“Brutally gang raped by Giang and his bunch.”

“Damn it, Laura! Don’t you think I’ve been thinking of that?” said Jack angrily. “Pull over here, it’s a good place to watch,” he added, as he picked up the binoculars.

“We can’t just sit back and let that happen,” she said, letting her own anger boil over as she parked the car.

“What are we supposed to do about it? If we arrest these peons and don’t connect the Russians, they’ll continue to get away with it. They’ll pick other people besides the Trans. There are lots around the globe who are more than willing to deal in human flesh.”

“As long as men support it, there will always be women being victimized,” said Laura. “Jade can identify the Russians as being in Hanoi. If she testified, that should count ...”

“For nothing,” said Jack. “She can’t risk testifying now. Even if she could—so what? Two guys looked at a bunch of pretty woman. There’s nothing to tie them into the business end of this. We need hard evidence. Boats, documents ... maybe someone with the courage to step forward and do what is right ... instead of keeping secrets!”

Laura knew that the rage Jack felt wasn’t directed at her. He’s got the same look on his face as that night in Cuba, when he told me about his family.

“Believe me,” said Jack. “I am not done with Dúc and Giang. But it’s the Russians who are at the top of my list.”

“So you’re going to sacrifice these women, if need be, to catch the Russians.”

Jack sighed and said, “Yes, because in the end, it will save more women.”

“Providing we catch them. Otherwise this sacrifice is for nothing.”

“We will catch them,” said Jack, with determination.

“I don’t like it,” said Laura. “The whole idea sickens me.”

“If it didn’t sicken you, I wouldn’t want you as a partner,” replied Jack. He handed the binoculars to Laura and said, “Cuóng and Tommy are just leaving, but take a look at who just arrived.”

Laura adjusted the binoculars and saw that two mini-vans had arrived. The drivers were walking toward the house.

“We’ve got two of the Tran brothers,” she said. “Thao and Húu.”

Jack swallowed a surge of bile. Where are the Russians ... and where is Dúc?

Jack and Laura watched as the two brothers disappeared inside the house. Thao reappeared by himself and the overhead garage door opened briefly to allow him to back his van inside.

Minutes later, the overhead door opened and he drove away as Húu repeated the process and also drove away shortly after.

“Dividing up the girls,” said Jack. “Maybe Dúc is just late. He’ll probably show up with a van soon. Maybe the Russians will be with him.” Maybe, but not likely ...

Dúc did arrive soon—alone in his car.

Laura looked at Jack and said, “Guess there are no girls left.”

Jack nodded silently, watching as Dúc walked up and knocked on the door.

“Figure he’s here to pay for their storage?” asked Laura.

“Probably. No Russians,” said Jack, feeling depressed. “I bet he already paid them.”

“Maybe we can get a warrant for bank records,” suggested Laura. “See if we can link them and the Russians. Quaile will think a warrant like that is for Commercial Crime.”

“You can try, but I think by the way the Russians throw cash around, you’re not going to find much in the way of a paper trail. This isn’t a Commercial Crime type file.”

“Speaking of that,” said Laura, “it’s eight-thirty. Maybe we should head over to Commercial Crime.”

“Yeah, let’s give it a minute. If Dúc leaves right away, I’d like to follow and see if he does meet with the Russians.”

Dúc spoke briefly with someone at the door before returning to his car. Seconds later, he drove it inside the garage.”

“What’s he doing?” said Jack. “This isn’t his house.”

“Maybe a mistress,” suggested Laura.

Seconds later, the overhead garage door opened again and Dúc drove away.

“We’re following him,” said Jack, as his hopes returned. “Mistress, my ass. There’s nobody with him in the car. He drove inside because he didn’t want anyone to see what he was picking up.”

“Had to be,” said Laura. “He wasn’t in there long enough to be doing anything else.”

Jack smiled and looked at Laura and asked, “What else would a boat bring in from Vietnam?”

“Heroin,” she said.

Jack gave her the thumbs up sign and said, “With Giang now being my new buddy, I could push the dope angle and get him to introduce me to Dúc for that. He might even get more time than he would for being a pimp.”

“I thought Dúc didn’t deal drugs.”

“Everyone says he doesn’t deal coke. My money is riding on heroin.”

The tires squealed as Laura turned a corner and manoeuvred the car through traffic to catch up. Dúc was driving a block ahead of them and was obeying all the traffic regulations.

“He doesn’t want to get stopped,” commented Laura.

“Corporal Taggart, from Commercial Crime,” blared a feminine voice over the police radio.

“Go ahead,” answered Laura, while grabbing the microphone that dangled from the steering column. “He’s listening.”

“Taggart! Where are you!” yelled Quaile into the radio as he nudged the secretary aside.

“Damn it,” said Jack, glancing at Laura. “The asshole decided to drop in on Commercial Crime this morning. He knows we’re not there. Give me the mike.”

“Taggart! Where are you?” asked Quaile, again.

“Sorry, Staff,” answered Jack. “I picked up Laura this morning and then we had car troubles. The engine keeps cutting in and out on us.”

“Park and tell me where you are exactly. I’ll send a tow truck.”

“Shit,” whispered Jack, before thumbing the transmit button again, “We’re just about at the office. It appears to have corrected itself. Probably just condensation in the gas. We’ll be there in fifteen.”

Jack sighed as he met Laura’s gaze. “Yeah, we’ll get to the dope through Giang. Go ahead, better step on it.”

Laura quickly turned the car around and they sped off in the opposite direction.

“Up ahead, Linh!” yelled Dúc. “Look! See it!”

Linh stuck her head out of the trunk into the back seat compartment and looked up at the sign that Dúc pointed at.

Canada–U.S. Border! “I see it! I see it!” she said.

“Pull the seat closed! Quickly!” yelled Dúc.

chapter twenty

Quaile did not wait for Jack and Laura at the Commercial Crime office. He requested—and was granted—an immediate meeting with Isaac.

“Sir, it’s about Taggart,” said Quaile. “He refuses orders and shows a total disregard for others. I just came from a meeting that was to have started an hour ago at Commercial Crime. Taggart was to be there at eight and as far as I know, he still hasn’t arrived. It’s embarrassing. I radioed him and he said he was having car problems. I’m sure he was lying.”

“He’s late for a meeting and you feel you need to speak to me about it?” asked Isaac.

“There’s more to it than that, sir. I took a call from the Vancouver City Police this morning. They were looking for one of their detectives and believed he might be at our office. It turns out that Taggart has been working on a project that I ordered him to drop weeks ago.”

“That investigation where he went to Costa Rica?” asked Isaac.

“Yes, sir.” Quaile leaned back in the chair, shaking his head. “What a fiasco that was. Taggart now says those two Russians may only be smuggling prostitutes into Canada to work in a couple of Vietnamese massage parlours. I told him to either turn it over to Immigration or City Vice. It is certainly not of the quality of file that I expect our office to engage in.”

“Maybe Corporal Taggart is burnt-out,” said Isaac.

“He seems clueless about what he should be doing. On top of that, he is a bad influence on the people under him. Morale in the office has deteriorated considerably. I respectfully suggest that his time has come.”

Isaac nodded thoughtfully and said, “I agree,” and reached for the telephone. He paused and said, “It’s funny. This isn’t how I thought Corporal Taggart would leave the section.”

“Sir?”

Isaac shook his head and said, “With his history, I expected he would either end up in jail or dead.”

Quaile listened patiently as Isaac talked on the phone. When Isaac hung up he turned to Quaile and said, “It’s done. Have Corporal Taggart report to Inspector Schaff in Staffing immediately.”

Jack and Laura arrived at Commercial Crime just as the meeting ended, so they returned to their own office.

“Got a call from Elaine at Travel King,” said Jack, as he listened to his voice mail. He quickly dialled her number and spoke with her.

“Well?” asked Laura when Jack hung up the phone.

“Moustache Pete and the Fat Man just booked a trip to Vietnam,” he said. “They reserved a room at a place called the Hotel Happy Holiday in Hanoi next Wednesday.”

“Only six days from now,” said Laura.

“They fly out of Vancouver at noon the day before. Takes over twenty hours to get there.”

“They’re arranging another boatload,” said Laura, excitedly.

“For sure. Maybe we can get the Vietnamese police to nail them. I’d rather serve two years in a jail in Canada than one month in a Vietnamese prison. This could turn out really great. I’ll make some calls and see who we can liaise with ...”

“Corporal Taggart,” said Quaile, announcing his arrival into their office.

“Staff, sorry about missing the meeting this morning. We just came from there. I’ve got the minutes of the meeting so ...”

“So can it, Taggart! You’re to report to Inspector Schaff in Staffing immediately. After which, you are to return and empty your desk!”

Jack sat in a stunned silence as his brain flashed random thoughts and images like a remote control changing channels at hyperspeed. The Russians ... not too late ... Laura can do it ... Jade ... the others ... someone has to get them out ... I’ve been caught at something ... what?

“Cat got your tongue, Taggart?”

Jack stood and walked toward the exit, feeling like he was still in a trance. He looked back at his desk and the rows of filing cabinets that he had invested much of his life into filling. Laura looks like she is going to cry ... hope she doesn’t quit. Don’t let the bad guys or the assholes win ...

“By the way,” said Quaile, “did you really believe that I fell for that fake call from Ottawa? For your information, I just played along to see what you were really involved in.” Quaile glanced at his watch and said, “You’d better hurry. I bet the longer you keep Inspector Schaff waiting, the farther north you’ll be sent.”

Jack heard Quaile’s voice behind him as he headed down the corridor. “As for you, Secord, consider yourself on notice! You’re only here still because I know Taggart was a bad influence on you, but ...”

Linh felt the car come to a stop and she heard the overhead garage door close. She clasped her hands in anticipation, waiting for the lid to open.

Will the first face I see be Hang? I think so!

The trunk opened and she saw only Mister Dúc and a big man standing beside him. She smiled politely and tried to hide her disappointment.

“Hello, Linh. I’m Pops,” the big man said, while reaching down to help her out of the trunk.

Linh was too excited to accept help and scrambled out on her own.

“Hello, Mister Pops,” she said, extending her hand.

Pops smiled and shook her hand.

“I am happy to meet you,” she said, pleased that she had memorized the phrase correctly. “Where is Hang?” she asked, breathlessly.

“We’ll talk about that in a moment,” replied Pops. “Come inside.”

Linh followed Pops to the door leading into the house, pausing only to smile politely and wave to Mister Dúc as he left.

“We’ll put your stuff in your bedroom,” said Pops. “Then we will sit in the living room and talk.”

Linh was awed by the sight of her bedroom. She picked the stuffed bear up off the bed and on impulse, gave it a hug before resting it back down with its head on the pillow.

“Are you hungry?” asked Pops. “It is almost lunchtime.”

Linh smiled and said, “Hang is in school!”

Pops stared at her a moment before taking her by the hand and leading her to the living room where they sat on the sofa. “I have some terrible news,” he said.

Linh felt the dread in her heart. “Hang?” she whispered.

“Yes. It is about Hang. She died in an accident. She stepped out from behind a truck parked on the street and was hit by a car. I am so very sorry.”

Linh burst into tears and felt Pops’s arm around her shoulders. She turned and clung to his sweater, burying her face into his chest.

“It happened six weeks ago,” said Pops. “We called your dad to tell him, but you had already left to come here. I feel so bad having to tell you the news. My wife wanted to be here when you arrived, but her mother is in hospital and is very sick.”

Linh continued to cry softly for an hour, before a combination of stress and fatigue allowed her to doze off as she snuggled close to Pops.

“What happened?” asked Laura, as soon as Jack returned.

Jack tried to smile and said, “It’s not all that bad. Lower Mainland Traffic Services in Burnaby. I’m supposed to start Monday.”

“Highway Patrol! This is already Thursday—how can Quaile do that?”

“He couldn’t, which means the big guy wants me out.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I think I’ll take a couple of days’ leave. I’m lucky. It’s not a physical move so it won’t interfere with Natasha’s work.”

“Jack ... I’m sorry. Oh, man,” she said in frustration. “I meant what I said before. I’m giving Staffing a call right now. There’s no way I can work for someone like this. I’d end up putting on coveralls and calling you in the night to bring a shovel.”

“Laura, no,” said Jack. “Please don’t, at least not yet. We’ve come too far on this thing with the Russians to let it drop now. We’re close.”

“You’re the one who is already in with Giang. What can I do by myself? I need—”

“I’ll still be handy to help out when I’m not writing tickets. I could still do the UC on Giang and introduce you, or maybe someone from VPD. The important thing to me is that we finish what we started. I also plan to get our friend in the massage parlour out of there when things do go down.”

“How do you do that without jeopardizing her family? You heard her. If they think she ran away or came to us ... people will die.”

“I figured out a way, but—”

“Exactly!” said Laura. “You’re good at this stuff. I can’t do it on my own!”

“You won’t be on your own all the time. I told you I’d help. Promise me you’ll stay on and fight this battle.”

Laura was quiet for a moment, staring down at her desk. When she looked up, she said, “Okay, but then I’m out of here as soon as Moustache Pete and the Fat Man are in jail ... or dead.”

Jack chuckled in spite of how he felt. “Maybe I have been a bad influence on you. You know, there was a time, before I met Natasha, when I would have gladly arranged for these two guys to die. But now I feel like my own life is worth something. I don’t want to lose what I have. I’ve been doing my best to do the right thing. You should, too. Promise me you won’t take any unnecessary risks. Catch these guys by the book. If you were to screw up, I would always blame myself for having started you down that path.”

Laura sighed and reached across and put her hand on top of Jack’s. “I feel awful about all this, but don’t worry about me. I love my husband and I want to be a mom someday. I’ll leave the shovel in the trunk.”

“Good, it’s settled. I’m going to call Natasha,” he added, reaching for his telephone.

“Honey, I’m sorry,” said Natasha, after Jack relayed the news to her. “You were afraid this was going to happen. I guess you were right.”

“It’s okay,” said Jack. “Really. Sure, I’m not exactly ecstatic about it, but just think ... regular shifts. No informants calling in the middle of the night—or when we’re ... you know. I’ve been doing this for seven years. The change may do us both good. Also won’t have to figure out what to wear each day. Hope you love a guy in uniform.”

“I don’t care what you wear,” said Natasha, “as long as you’re the same man underneath.”

“Ah ... you love me naked. That part won’t change.”

“I meant you. What’s in your heart. Which will change if you’re not happy.”

“You’re in my heart. It’s you that makes me happy.”

Natasha remained silent.

“We’ll talk over dinner,” said Jack. “I’ll cook something special, maybe chicken cordon bleu. I’ll pick up a bottle of wine as well. We’ll look at this as a celebration of a more stress-free lifestyle.”

“Better make it two bottles,” said Natasha. “I’m going to have to be really drunk if you expect me to swallow the bullshit you’re feeding me.”

It was three o’clock in the afternoon when Pops gently awakened Linh.

“It’s a good time for you to call your dad,” he said. “He will be worried and will want to know you arrived in the States. You can talk to him for as long as you want. I understand you have a grandmother too?”

Linh nodded.

“Talk to her as well, if you like. With what has happened, I am going to figure out how to bring them both to America. Wouldn’t it be nice if you were all together?”

Without Hang, that is not possible, decided Linh.

Between crying spells, Linh talked for over an hour.

Bien felt that his heart was already broken, but the sound of Linh’s tears and being unable to hold her made him realize that his heart still had room for much pain. He asked Linh to be strong and to remember that they only had to look to the sky to know that Hang would be watching and waiting to see them some day.

When Linh finally ran out of words, she slowly relinquished the phone to Pops, who hung it up.

Pops smiled knowingly and said, “Come, there is a special hiding place I must show you. It is to be used if the police should ever come before the proper papers are in place.”

chapter twenty-one

At eight o’clock Friday morning, Laura walked into Quaile’s office. She looked at him in disgust and slowly turned around in a complete circle in front of his desk.

“Hi, Laura,” said Quaile, sounding friendly. “You look fine. There’s no need for you to do this anymore. Your attire is completely appropriate now.”

Laura didn’t comment and turned to leave.

“Where is Corporal Taggart this morning?” asked Quaile. “He hasn’t been excused from this.”

“He’s taking the day off,” replied Laura.

“I haven’t signed a leave form for him! Tell him to get in here!”

“I’m sorry, did you think I meant he was on annual leave?” asked Laura innocently. “He called in sick. Would you like him to bring a note from his wife? She’s a doctor.”

“I want his desk cleaned out before the end of the day,” said Quaile. His tone with Laura was no longer friendly.

“Sure, Quaile, I’ll do that,” replied Laura.

“It’s Staff! You will refer to me as Staff—and do so in a respectful tone!”

Laura placed the palms of her hands on his desk and leaned over so that her face was close to Quaile’s. He instinctively pushed himself back in his chair.

“When it comes to human qualities, you are a very small man,” she said. “They should never give power to a small man.”

The blood rushed to Quaile’s face as he tried to think of an appropriate response.

Laura turned and walked to the door. Just before she left she said, “And another thing, Quaile. I don’t respect you enough to call you by anything else ... except asshole!”

Later that afternoon, Laura sat in a car parked close to the Russians’ apartment. She had a shoebox on her lap and carefully looked at the contents. Believing she had control of her emotions, she picked up her cellphone and called Jack.

“I’ve been sitting on the Russians since nine o’clock this morning,” she said. “They haven’t left their apartment all day. I saw lights come on earlier, so I know they’re home.”

“What about Commercial Crime? Quaile will have your ass if he knows you’re still working on the Russians.”

“Yeah ... Quaile. I saw him this morning. I definitely felt vibes that he doesn’t like me. I bet I’m next on the chopping block.”

“Why? What did he say to you?”

“Nothing, really. It was just the look on his face when I left his office this morning. Call it woman’s intuition. I sensed that he doesn’t like me.”

“Laura, you promised,” said Jack

“I know what I promised,” she said evenly. “We’re close to nailing these two. Don’t worry, we’ll get them before he can push me out the door.”

“Just don’t do anything to jeopardize your career,” replied Jack.

“You once told me that you had to be able to look at your own face in the mirror when you shaved. I don’t shave, but I do put on makeup. I have to be able to look at myself as well.”

“Your record is exemplary. Clean. Don’t go and ...”

“Which is why it will take time for Staff Pendejo to kick me out. Speaking of which, he wasn’t going to authorize leave for you this morning, so I told him you had called in sick.”

“Thanks. I spoke with my new boss on Traffic Services and asked to take next week off. He said it wasn’t a problem and I could back-date the paperwork when I arrived. Sounds like a nice guy. His name is Mike Hewett.”

“Anyone would be better than Quaile.”

“Now my week is clear to help you. After what has happened, I thought we should take this weekend off to clear our heads. Then meet with Pasquali on Monday and do the UC on Giang.”

“Good, that’s what I thought, too. Besides, it will be better to let Giang stew about it. We won’t look so anxious.”

“Set it up with Pasquali for around noon. I’ll call you Sunday night.”

“Jack ... there’s another reason I called. I ... Oh, man,” she said, as her voice wavered.

“What is it? ... Laura?”

Jack heard her sigh, and she said, “I cleaned out your desk for you. I’ve got a shoebox here with your stuff. Coffee mug, pictures of Natasha, your niece and nephew, your little buddy Charlie taking his first step ...” She paused as her voice cracked and she swallowed and continued. “You know, stuff like that. I was going to drop it off for you on my way home tonight.”

“Oh ...” Jack paused as the feeling struck home. Seven years of my life bundled into a shoebox.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have done this without asking,” said Laura, sensing his pain. “I just didn’t want the asshole gloating around watching you do it.”

“I was going to come in and do that this weekend. Thanks, though. I really appreciate it. It would have been tough for me.”

“I have to go,” she replied.

Jack heard her crying before she fumbled to shut her phone off.

It was late Friday afternoon when Isaac waved for Connie Crane to come in and take a seat in front of his desk.

“I hope I’m not interfering with your schedule, Corporal,” said Isaac, “but I just called Staff Otto and he said you were in the building and would be the best person to bring me up to date.”

“Yes, sir. Randy called and told me. We still have no idea as to the child’s identity, but our investigation is progressing. Lab results indicate she had close to two hundred times the normal level of dioxin in her blood. This, combined with a birth defect of an extra thumb and other factors, indicates that, in all likelihood, she is of Vietnamese heritage. Not only that, but it would indicate that she is from an area that has been heavily contaminated with Agent Orange. My guess is she was originally from the central part of Vietnam, in the area the Americans referred to as the DMZ during the American–Vietnamese conflict.”

“The demilitarized zone,” said Isaac.

“Yes, sir. That’s it.”

“An extra digit. Surely the Vietnamese must be able to identify her?”

“We’ve checked. As abnormal as that would be here, it is common over there. Many children are still being born with such defects. Others with no limbs. It’s a result of all the defoliant the Americans dropped back in the late 1960s and early ’70s.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“Locally, we’re tracking down sexual sadists: people who have a history of lighting pets on fire and the like. But as I’m sure you know, there are easily over a thousand in our area who are on the National Sex Offender Registry and likely that many more that we are not aware of.”

“Learning the identity of this child would be a significant step,” said Isaac.

“Sir, we are trying. I’ve made inquiries with the local Vietnamese community. Some are more than willing to help, but others are either suspicious or afraid of the police.”

“Then step up the pressure on the Vietnamese police. An extra thumb, even if it is common over there—a child is missing. They should be able to narrow the list down. There can’t be that many children who emigrated here from Vietnam who would match this profile. Check with Immigration. I’ll call our embassy in Hanoi if you like, and help get things moving over there.”

“Sir, that has already been done. I suspect the real problem is that the child was likely smuggled into Canada.”

“Smuggled?” Isaac’s mind returned to a conversation he had with Quaile.

“The police over there are being very cooperative,” continued Connie. “But the problem they face is that people are not overly willing to come forward. The Vietnamese government is a communist regime and everyone knows they do not take kindly to their citizens being smuggled out.”

Connie stared at Isaac but he remained pensive and quiet.

“Sir,” she said, “I don’t mean to sound pessimistic, but we’re trying to identify a kid that nobody has even reported missing. We’re looking through stacks of files on perverts that ... well, it’s a little like looking for that proverbial needle in a haystack.”

Isaac stared intently ahead and Connie had the feeling that he was only half listening.

“Believe me,” she continued. “I want to catch this sick ...” Connie paused, glancing at the Bible on Isaac’s desk, and continued, “this sick person. Whoever did this ... well, the profile indicates he’ll do it again. This case is a priority for our whole office. We won’t rest until—”

“Have you checked with Intelligence?” asked Isaac.

Connie sat back in her chair. “Ah ... no, sir. We’re not looking at this as organized crime. The profile indicates a person acting alone. Probably single, keeps to ...”

Isaac raised his hand, signalling for Connie to stop and said, “Check with Intelligence. Corporal Taggart was working on a file involving human smuggling. Constable Secord was assisting him. The main culprits are Russian, but I believe it also involved local Vietnamese criminals.”

“I wasn’t aware of that, sir. I’ll go to their office and talk with Jack immediately.”

“Um ... I spoke with Staff Quaile this morning,” said Isaac. “He indicated that Corporal Taggart was home with the flu.”

“I know Jack, sir. He’s dedicated. He won’t mind if I call him.”

Isaac shook his head and said, “No, there’s a bit of a ... situation ... with Corporal Taggart at the moment. He’s been transferred and is no longer with Intelligence.”

“I wasn’t aware of that, sir.”

“It only happened yesterday.”

Isaac was about to suggest that Connie speak with Constable Secord, but he remembered that she was the reason Quaile called him this morning and thought better of it. At least for now.

Later that night, Isaac sat alone in his den, holding the picture of his daughter in his hand when Sarah entered the room. He quickly put the picture down.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’ll be right out. Didn’t mean to abandon you for the evening. Just needed a few minutes to think some things out.”

“A few minutes?” said Sarah. “Honey, you’ve been in here for two hours, ever since dinner.”

“Has it been that long?” he asked, genuinely surprised.

Sarah walked over and stood behind him and bent over, wrapping her arms around the front of his chest. “She was beautiful, wasn’t she?” said Sarah, looking at the picture on the desk. “I miss her, too.”

Isaac nodded, but didn’t speak.

“Are you going to talk to me about it?” asked Sarah.

“About what?”

“About why you’ve hardly spoken a word to me ever since Aggi and Leon were here for dinner. Now tonight, it’s worse. Something happened today, didn’t it?”

Isaac swivelled his chair around, wrapping his arm around Sarah and sitting her on his lap. “You would have made a great detective,” he said.

“Doesn’t take much detective work to figure you out,” she said. “Not after thirty years of marriage. You’ve only acted this way once before, when ...” she didn’t finish, but glanced at the picture and back at her husband’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“Can’t you talk to me about it?”

Isaac took a deep breath and slowly let the air out before replying, “I’m troubled over a homicide case.”

“The one Aggi told you about?”

Isaac nodded.

“You’ve encountered horrific cases before.”

“I know, but now, after losing Norah, it bothers me more.”

“Now you know what some other parent feels like after losing a child.”

Isaac nodded.

“We’ve had to learn to accept it. The pain never goes away ... but time makes it more bearable.”

Isaac looked into his wife’s eyes. No parent could ever accept or understand what this little girl went through.

“You’re worried that you won’t be able to solve the case?” asked Sarah.

Isaac nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. Lord, surely you can show no mercy for whoever did this?

“Well, as you always said ... you just pick the best person for the job and let them do it. What else can you do?”

Her words echoed and replayed themselves in Isaac’s head.

If I were a criminal ... a child molester ... who would be the last person I would ever want on my trail?

“What is it, dear?”

“I think you’ve given me a message,” replied Isaac.

A few minutes later, Isaac kissed his wife goodbye at the door.

“I should come with you,” she said.

Isaac shook his head and left by himself. It was the first time outside of a normal religious event that he had gone to church in the evening.

It was also the first time that he felt justified in asking for forgiveness.

chapter twenty-two

It was seven o’clock Saturday morning and Jack lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling while Natasha slept soundly with her head on his chest. He didn’t know if it was the headache that awakened him, or the fact that his tongue felt thick and sticky in his mouth. He also had the urge to drink a litre of water. That would awaken Natasha, so he lay there as his brain regressed on his own life ... and what had gone wrong.

A knock on their apartment door startled him.

Natasha’s eyes flickered and she said, “Who is that?” She looked at their bedroom clock and added, “At this hour! Damn it, I feel ill. You got me drunk!”

“Coming!” yelled Jack as he put on his bathrobe and dropped his 9mm into the pocket.

He could only find one slipper, so he left it and padded barefoot to the door and stood to one side, gripping the 9mm in his pocket before waving his other hand across the peephole.

No shots ... good sign. He squinted into the peephole. “Jesus!” he said aloud, stepping back while releasing the grip on his gun.

“Who is it, honey?” asked Natasha.

Jack cast a glance at Natasha, who had slipped on her bathrobe and appeared behind him. He didn’t reply as he quickly opened the door.

Natasha had never seen the man before.

“Do you mind if I come in?” the man asked.

“Are you executing a warrant?” asked Jack, while looking out in the hall to see who else was there.

Natasha thought her husband was joking. He wasn’t.

The man seemed taken back by the comment, but smiled and said, “No. It’s not that kind of a visit. I came here to ask for your help.”

Jack nodded and motioned for the man to enter before closing the door behind him.

“I’m sorry to awaken you at this time of the morning,” the man said, looking at Natasha.

“And you are ...?” she asked.

“Excuse me. My name is Jacob Isaac,” he said, offering his hand. “I, uh, work with Jack.”

Natasha shook his hand and asked, “Are you on Highway Patrol?”

The question caught Isaac off guard, but he grinned and replied, “Not anymore. Years ago, yes. Only for a short time.”

“Didn’t write enough tickets?” asked Natasha. She turned to Jack and said, “That’s the way for you to get out of there. Don’t write any tickets and the ol’ man, as you call him, will transfer you back.”

“Honey,” said Jack. “This is the ... uh, Assistant Commissioner Isaac. He’s the top boss.”

“Oh,” said Natasha as her cheeks developed a crimson glow. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to ...”

Isaac chuckled and looked at Natasha and said, “I am an old man ... but I would really prefer it if you called me Jacob.”

Natasha looked at Jack and said, “I think I’ll take a shower.”

Minutes later, Isaac sat at the kitchen table while Jack made coffee. He eyed Isaac curiously. Must be something pretty damn serious for him to come here—let alone on a Saturday at this time of the morning.

“It is something serious,” said Isaac, reading his thoughts. “I would like to delay your transfer,” said Isaac.

“For a few years?” asked Jack, hopefully.

“No. Just temporarily. I would like you to complete your investigation on the Russians. Particularly in regard to their smuggling operation.”

“Staff Quaile felt it wasn’t worthy of our attention. I don’t think he would appreciate me coming back.”

“I’ve already spoken with Staff Quaile this morning,” replied Isaac. “He assures me he is in complete agreement with this ... temporary extension.”

Yeah, I bet. “I take it something has happened?”

Isaac nodded and the sorrow he felt showed in his eyes. “An unidentified Vietnamese girl between the ages of ten and fourteen was sexually abused and murdered. Corporal Crane is the lead investigator and thinks she may have been smuggled into the country. Would you be willing to help?”

“A young girl sexually molested and killed?” said Jack, vehemently. “You bet I’m willing to help.”

If Isaac had any qualms about Jack’s initiative at completing this temporary assignment, he didn’t now, after hearing the tone of his voice.

“I believe Corporal Crane is currently working on the case at this moment,” said Isaac.

“I’ll call her and start work immediately,” replied Jack.

“Good. Somehow I believed you would,” he said, standing up. “Please apologize to your wife for me again. I realize it is early.”

Jack was seeing Isaac out the door when Isaac turned and asked, “Do you believe in God?”

Jack was taken back but remembered his exclamation when he first saw Isaac at his door. “I’m sorry about that,” he replied.

“About what?”

“That I said Jesus when I first saw you this morning. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Isaac smiled to himself. I’m not Jesus ... maybe just a servant. He looked at Jack and said, “I would have buzzed, but someone was just leaving so I entered. That is not why I asked. You don’t need to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Jack stared at Isaac momentarily and said, “Both Natasha and I are atheists. Why?”

“Because I think He believes in you.”

Two hours later, Jack and Laura sat in the I-HIT office and listened to Connie as she updated them on the nature of the file and the steps they had taken to date.

Jack gave Connie a brief account of their investigation into the Russians who were smuggling women to use as prostitutes for the Trans at the Asian Touch and Orient Pleasure massage parlours.

He outlined the Tran brothers’ criminal history and how the one called Dúc headed a vicious gang of approximately fifty thugs. He also told Connie about the trip to Costa Rica, but did not tell her about the added excursion to Cuba.

“What do you think?” asked Connie. “Is there a connection?”

“The pathologist thinks the child was being tortured over a period of at least three or four months,” noted Jack.

“That’s according to the various bone fractures,” replied Connie.

Jack looked at Laura, but didn’t speak.

“Come on, you guys,” said Connie. “Do you know something?”

“I’ve got a Vietnamese friend,” said Jack, “who was smuggled by boat into Canada about four months ago by the Russians.”

“That fits!” said Connie. “Who’s your friend? I want to talk to her.”

“Confidential informant,” said Jack. “The same person who confirmed that the Russians were in Hanoi and that they looked at the girls before they boarded the boat.”

“Didn’t you submit a report on what your CI told you?” asked Connie. “I never read anything of that nature.”

“Quaile wouldn’t allow us to work on the Russians, let alone the Vietnamese, so I’ve never put specific reports in on the CI. I just found this out last week. The CI is someone I’ve been developing on my own. I’ve also done a bit of UC work on another character by the name of Giang who is a Vietnamese drug dealer and works for Dúc.”

“UC?” asked Connie. “Are you buying drugs from him?”

“Not yet. I’ve been doing this out of my own pocket.”

“How much you out of pocket?” asked Randy, who had been standing behind Jack and listening.

Jack turned in his seat, unaware that Connie’s boss had been listening.

“Well, counting drinks for the drug dealer and his friends, plus a hundred just to talk to my CI, I’m out about two hundred and fifty. It’s no big deal.”

Randy nodded and said, “Come into my office before you leave and I’ll give you five hundred dollars. Consider it payment to a confidential informant. A receipt from your CI isn’t necessary the first time. If you need money, overtime approved, rentals, travel, anything ... forget about Quaile. You talk to me. We’re running this show. Understood?”

Jack smiled and said, “Understood. Do you think when it’s over you could use an extra corporal on your section?”

“And constable,” added Laura.

“Have you looked at the photos of the vic’?” asked Randy, curiously.

Jack and Laura shook their heads to indicate they hadn’t.

Connie passed a large brown manila envelope over to them and Jack took the photos out. The picture on top was an alley, after which the pictures progressed to the Dumpster and the torn garbage bag with the child’s face staring up. More pictures showed the child’s body after being removed from the garbage bag.

“Still interested in coming over?” asked Randy.

“I feel nauseated,” said Laura, pushing the photos away.

“Likewise,” admitted Jack. “Also makes me determined to want to find out who did this to her.”

“I’d love to have the both of you in here,” said Randy. “We have serious stuff sitting on the back burners that we just can’t get to. More stuff is arriving every day. Connie told me about your transfer yesterday afternoon, Jack. I’m sorry. I called Staffing immediately to see if I could get you in here. I was told to forget it. There was no changing it.”

Jack picked up a picture of just the victim’s face and turned to Connie and asked, “Do you have a smaller version of this one that I can have?”

“To show your CI?”

Jack nodded.

“I can scan it down to wallet size if you like,” said Connie.

“That would be even better.”

“The Orient Pleasure open on Saturdays?” asked Randy.

Jack nodded. “Seven days a week, three-sixty-five.”

“Let me know immediately after you’ve shown the picture,” said Randy, before walking back toward his office.

Jack looked at Connie while gesturing with his thumb toward Randy. “You’re lucky, you know.”

“You’re telling me,” said Connie. “He’s not afraid to come out and work either. Surveillance, take-downs, you name it. He’s the best boss I’ve ever had—even if he does make me drink Scotch.”

It was one o’clock when Jack entered the Orient Pleasure. He had forgotten that Dúc spent his lunch hour there and they passed each other in the doorway as Dúc was leaving. Dúc looked up at him and smirked before continuing on his way.

Jack glanced after him. I want so bad to choke your skinny little neck and bash your head into the floor until you talk ...

“Oh, you come back, big guy,” said Cuóng. “You like Jade, yes?”

Jade sat on the edge of the bed with Jack. “I glad you come,” she said. “I hear Mister Dúc tell Cuóng that more girls come in six week. I think I go to United States when that boat come.”

“Why do you think that?” asked Jack.

“Girls on next boat not so old like me.”

“You’re what, nineteen?”

“Some men like girls not so old like me,” said Jade. “I go to United States and you put Mister Dúc in jail and I no be sent back to Vietnam.”

“Jade, this life ... I have another way, but first, I need to ask you to look at a picture of a girl’s face.”

“Okay, Jack. Show me picture.”

“It’s not easy to look at. It’s a young girl. She was tortured ... blinded in one eye. I need you to take a good look ... she may not be easy to recognize,” added Jack, as he handed her the picture.

Jade gasped, dropping the picture on the floor as she put her hands to the sides of her face and commenced rocking back and forth on the bed.

Jack picked up the picture and said, “You know her!”

“No,” replied Jade. “Can no be. Maybe make mistake. Picture not Hang.”

“Hang?” replied Jack. “Who is Hang?”

“She have two thumb, one hand?” whispered Jade, lowering her hands from her face.

“Yes.”

Jade uttered a sound like a wounded kitten and the tears flowed down her face. “Her name Hang,” she said, choking out the words. “Who do that to Hang?”

Before Jack could answer, Jade started crying and he pulled her close to his chest and held her. He heard a Vietnamese woman holler something from the next room, but Cuóng hollered back in Vietnamese and the woman giggled and then was quiet.

It took ten minutes before Jade quit crying enough to speak. “Hang on boat with me, but not same hole on boat. Everybody on boat older than Hang. Me ... Hang ... we good friend. Like sister. She go to United States and live with American family. That all I know.”

“That’s all you know? What about her last name? Parents?”

“Smuggler tell us no talk about our name or family,” cried Jade. “They say if police catched someone ... it better not know. They say they have people with us on boat who tell if someone talk too much. That person have to swim back to Vietnam.”

“So there is nothing else you know?”

“Hang telled me her mother from Dong Ha. Much Agent Orange. That why Hang have two thumb. But how Hang talk ... I don’t know ... I think she live in Saigon.”

“You mean Ho Chi Minh City.”

“Communist from North say that. We still say Saigon. I see Hang when father bring her to smuggler before we leave Hanoi. He ride bicycle, so maybe Hang no live in Saigon. Hang and father meet smuggler in Ba Dinh district of Hanoi.”

Jack asked Jade a barrage of questions, but she had little else of value to offer and became more upset with herself for not knowing. Eventually he asked, “Would you like out of this place now?”

Jade trembled at the prospect and said, “My family in Nha Trang. They ...”

“They will be okay,” said Jack. “I have a plan where you could leave and they would not think you ran away. We will talk about that in a minute.”

“Where I go? Where I sleep? Food ... money?”

“I have a friend. Her name is Holly and her husband died last year. She has two small children. A five-year-old named Jenny. She has a boy named Charlie, who just turned two this month. Charlie is unable to walk. Holly has ... some money. She is looking for a live-in nanny.”

“Live-in nanny?”

“A woman to live with her in her house and help her look after her children. I’ve already talked to her. She will pay you enough that you can still send money home.”

“No more men fuck me?”

“No more working in this ... this rape factory,” said Jack bitterly. “In time, I would be willing to testify at an immigration hearing for you. With how you have helped, along with the danger for you and your family if you were to return, I think we could work something out. Maybe for everybody.”

Jade started crying again and buried her face in Jack’s chest. “I like to do that, Jack,” she sobbed. “I work hard with kids. No more pretend smile and happy so men fuck me.”

chapter twenty-three

Jack left the Orient Pleasure and walked a block away before Laura picked him up. He told her what he had learned as they drove back to the I-HIT office.

“So the Russians are directly involved with the victim!” said Laura, making no effort to hide her anger.

“The victim has a name now,” said Jack. “It is Hang.”

Laura knew what Jack was getting at. They were no longer dealing with just another unknown or a statistic. Putting a name to the victim made it personal. A lot more personal.

“The Russians brought her here,” continued Jack. “But who she was passed on to is anybody’s guess.”

“Probably Dúc or one of his brothers ...”

“Possibly. One of them could have sold her to someone else or maybe it’s someone else the Russians know.”

“She was supposed to go to the States.”

“I know.”

“So how did she end up in a Dumpster in Surrey?”

“We know she has a father. Maybe living in Hanoi. Speaking of which, the Russians are arriving there next Wednesday.”

“We’ve got to go, too.”

“Definitely. With Randy, I bet that won’t be a problem.”

“So in the meantime, we pass this on to the Vietnamese police. Maybe get Connie to dig up phone tolls from all the businesses and see if she can match them to any perverts.”

“I don’t even want to think how many that will be ... or how long it will take,” replied Jack.

“Not much else for us to do until then, other than get permission to go to Hanoi,” said Laura.

“There is another thing that needs to be looked after.”

Laura waited for a moment before asking, “What?”

“In regard to the young woman I just talked with. I promised her I would get her out by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!”

“She’s really upset. I wish I could do it today.”

“How? Without endangering her family ... or her? Can’t it wait?”

“No. It has to be tomorrow. The Russians arrive in Hanoi on Wednesday. We should be in Hanoi a day ahead to make sure everything is arranged. With the time difference, we have to leave here on Monday.”

“What’s your plan?”

“It’s sort of ... a delicate matter. Just between the two of us.”

Oh, man ...

It was late that same afternoon when Laura and Connie sat together in a car parked near Lucky Lucy’s. A team from Drug Section was also on surveillance on nearby streets and confirmed Jack’s movements up until he opened the door and stepped inside the bar. After that he was on his own.

“You’re lucky you and Jack gaffed a trip to Vietnam,” said Connie. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

“Why doesn’t Randy send you, too?” asked Laura.

“It’s not him. Court. I’m starting a three-month murder trial on Monday.”

“I’ve done a bit of foreign travel,” said Laura. “Not always as glamorous as it seems.”

“Yeah, I heard you were in Colombia last year.”

Laura smiled and said, “Believe me, that was no picnic, either. Foreign travel isn’t as much fun as everyone thinks. Between time zones, work, and jet lag, you don’t usually get to see much. The taxpayer’s dollar doesn’t allow for much sightseeing.”

“Speaking of dollars,” said Connie. “I’m still a little confused. How does Jack scoring a kilo of cocaine from this Giang character really help our investigation?”

“It might get him an introduction to Dúc,” replied Laura. “Jack thinks he might be dealing heroin as well as being a pimp.”

“Even if he does, that is a far leap to having Dúc tell him if he knows anything about Hang.”

Laura eyed Connie casually. She’s right ... but how do I get her off this topic and to quit thinking about it? I can’t tell her what Jack is really up to with Giang ...

“Jack is pretty persuasive,” added Laura. “You’d be surprised how convincing he can be.”

“He must be, to convince Randy.”

“I suspect Isaac approved it personally,” continued Laura. “He must have, I’ve never seen approval granted this fast before.”

“So what are you worrying about? We’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Nothing to lose! How about our budget? We’ll be down by thousands of dollars to buy the dope, which in all likelihood, will only end up with a low-life like Giang on the hook. You were on Drugs, you know how it works. Giang will spend so little time in jail that it will be worth it for him, especially if he gets to keep the money.”

“It’s not your money,” said Laura, pretending to sound irritated.

“Comes out of our budget and that affects other investigations.”

“Ten to one says you’re craving lots of chocolate right now.”

“Laura! For your information, I am not having my period.”

“Sorry. Actually it’s me who wouldn’t mind a chocolate bar right now.”

“Yeah? Come to think of it, that would be good. I deserve one. I’ve been working out lately, have I told you that?”

Laura smiled.

Jack sat at a corner table with Giang and negotiated the purchase.

“Tonight,” said Giang. “You come back here at nine o’clock.”

“Tonight? Here? Not likely!”

“Why? I show you the stuff and you can go get the money.”

Jack shook his head and said, “Someone already tried to rip me here. This is your turf and I’ve never done business with you before.”

“How do you want to do it?”

Jack chuckled and said, “Well, I live out in Surrey, but you probably don’t want to go out there either. Maybe some other ...”

“No, you want Surrey,” said Giang quickly. “That’s fine with me.”

Jack feigned surprise and said, “Okay, good. Except not tonight. I want it light out, so I can see. I’m willing to meet you in an alley somewhere. You come alone in a car and I’ll walk up and meet you. I don’t care if you have a piece. You can point it right at me. Once I see the dope, give me a minute to grab the cash from where I’ll have stashed it and then we’re done.”

“That’s okay with me,” replied Giang. “I was in Surrey a long time ago. Played pool someplace. I think the name of the place was Billiard Bill’s.”

“I’ve seen that place,” replied Jack. “It’s on the second floor of some building.”

Giang nodded.

“How about the alley behind it at noon?” suggested Jack.

Giang forced himself not to smile. He nodded and shook hands with Jack.

“One more thing,” said Jack. “Because I don’t really know you yet, I want it done in two trips.”

“Two trips?”

“Yeah, just to be on the safe side. I want to buy half a kilo from you and make sure everything is okay. If it is, in ten minutes or so, I return with the rest of the money for the other half.”

Giang smiled and said, “That’s okay. It is good to be careful.”

“He’s out,” crackled the radio as Jack left Lucky Lucy’s.

Laura grabbed the microphone and replied, “Copy that.”

“Just getting in his wheels,” the voice continued. “Gave me the thumbs up.”

“Good,” replied Laura. “See you back at I-HIT.”

An hour later, Jack met with all the investigators and gave a debriefing.

“It went well,” he said. “Giang wants to do it at noon tomorrow. He picked a place out in Surrey. It’s ...”

“The Orient Pleasure?” said Connie.

“Close,” replied Jack. “A block away in an alley behind a pool hall. He will come alone in his car and I’ll approach on foot. He is willing to let me examine the kilo before seeing the money. I think I’ll just take the money with me. He won’t be expecting me to have it. We’ll do the deal on the spot and it’s finished.”

“Would be nice to follow him and see what he does with the money,” said one of the narcs.

“No,” said Jack. “He is really paranoid. This isn’t just a dope deal. It’s a murder investigation. I don’t want to take any chances on blowing this. If Giang gets wise, I’ll never meet Dúc.”

“You’re the guy sticking your neck out,” said Randy. “It’s your call on that.”

“If it goes as planned,” said Jack, “You’ll see me stash the dope in the trunk of my car. Then we all meet back here.”

“How long before you make contact again?” asked the narc.

“Give him a week to cool down let him think I’m putting the stuff out. I don’t want to do anything that would make him suspicious.”

“That will work out,” said Connie. “You’re taking off to ’Nam on Monday. By the time you come back, it will be just right.”

“I want the Russians,” said Jack. “They’re the ones ultimately behind all this. With any luck, you’ll identify the pervert before we even come back. With evidence on the Russians, we’ll be able to take down the whole damned lot!” At twelve-thirty Sunday afternoon, Jack walked toward the red GTO as it pulled up and parked in the alley behind Billiard Bill’s. He approached the driver’s side and Giang wound down the window.

“Half an hour late,” commented Jack.

Giang shrugged, his right hand holding a pistol that rested on his lap. “Accident on the Port Mann Bridge. Down to one lane,” he said.

Giang reached under his seat with his other hand and passed Jack a white plastic bag. “Take a look,” he said. “Two baggies. Each half a key, just like you wanted.”

Jack peered in the plastic bag and saw two clear bags of sparkling white powder. “This better not be baking soda,” he said.

Giang grinned and said, “No, go ahead. Test it if you want.”

Jack shook his head and said, “It looks good.”

“Then go get the bread,” said Giang.

Jack smiled and opened his jacket to reveal a paper bag shoved in the inside pocket of his coat. “Got half of it right here,” he said, passing the bag to Giang.

Giang smiled as he looked inside at the money. “Thought you were going to stash it until you saw the coke?”

“If you were setting me up for a rip, you would think I didn’t have it on me. You’d also bullshit and say you wanted me to go get the money before showing me any coke.”

Giang nodded and said, “You know this business.”

“I like staying above ground,” replied Jack, as he removed one of the clear plastic bags and put it inside his jacket pocket. He gave the rest of the cocaine back to Giang and said, “Now, give me about ten minutes or so, and I’ll come back with the rest.”

A minute later, Jack put the half kilo of cocaine in the trunk of his car before giving the thumbs-up sign for the surveillance team to meet him back at the I-HIT office.

It was a quarter to one when Jack walked inside the Orient Pleasure and approached Dúc, who was behind the counter.

“Hey, you!” said Jack. “Where is Giang?”

“He’s not here. Who are you?” asked Dúc.

“You obviously work for him,” said Jack. “Tell him I’ve changed my mind. I want to purchase two girls for my parlour in Alberta now. Not just one.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Dúc.

“I bought the one from him ... what’s her name? Jade? Now I want ... oh, never mind,” he said, glancing at his watch. “He told me to meet him in the alley behind Billiard Bill’s. I was just hoping to catch him before he left. I’ll tell him myself.”

Jack left the premises as Dúc hurried to the rooms at the rear.

“Where is Jade?” screamed Dúc, at the young woman in the room next to where Jade worked.

“She left an hour ago. She said Giang was going to buy her lunch.”

Jack stood in the alley and paid Giang for the second half of the cocaine. He was about to make some idle conversation, but the sound of voices and running feet coming down a stairwell told him it was time to leave.

chapter twenty-four

Jack walked into the I-HIT office and placed the two bags of cocaine on top of a desk.

“Mind if I sit here to write my notes?” he asked Connie.

“No, go ahead,” she replied, glancing at her watch. “What took you so long? Stop for gas on the way back? We were getting worried.”

“No, sorry,” replied Jack. “I just took the long way. Wanted to make sure I wasn’t being followed.”

“Everything go okay?” asked Laura.

Jack gestured to the kilo on the desk and said, “Smooth as silk. Giang trusts me now. I don’t think it will be a problem to get him to introduce me to Dúc.”

“Yeah,” replied Connie. “Then figure out how the hell you bring up the subject of Hang without making him suspicious.”

“I’ll think of something,” replied Jack. “Now, please give me an hour or two of peace while I make my notes.”

An hour later, Jack was still writing when Randy Otto came out of his office and said he received a message from some uniform members that they wanted Homicide to attend a car fire in an industrial area.

“An off-duty fireman was driving past and saw the smoke,” said Randy. “He had an extinguisher in his car and put the flames out before things got too badly burned. Partial crispy critter slumped over in the passenger side. Looks like knife wounds to his throat and face. The fire was started less than fifteen minutes ago, so let’s get on it.”

Connie started to get up but Randy said, “Connie, you’ve got too much to do and still have a trial to prepare for. Wells, you take the lead on this.”

“What kind of car was it?” asked Jack, glancing up from the notes he was writing.

Randy picked up a portable radio off a desk and said, “I’ll find out.” He radioed and asked the officers at the scene.

“Red Pontiac GTO,” came the reply.

“Giang’s car!” said Connie, looking at Jack for a response.

Silence descended over the I-HIT office as everyone turned to look at Jack.

After several long seconds ticked by, Randy said, “How did you piece that together, Jack? What made you ask what type of car it was?”

Jack shrugged and said, “An hour ago I handed Giang more money than most of the punks he hangs out with would see in a lifetime. If Giang is the crispy critter ... I’m guessing he doesn’t have the money now.”

“You know,” said Laura, “he did do the deal in the alley behind Billiard Bill’s. A lot of the gang who work for Dúc hang out there. Wouldn’t take much for someone to look out a window from above and see the deal go down.”

“Damn it,” said Jack, throwing his pen down on the desk. “If it is him in the car, we just blew a lot of money for nothing.”

Connie stared at Jack. I always did think it was for nothing ...

It was four o’clock when Jack saw Natasha and Jade sitting at a table at the Red Robin restaurant in the Metrotown Mall in Burnaby.

Jade was now wearing slacks and a blouse that was buttoned up to her throat. Her long black hair that once hung halfway to her waist had now been cut to just below her ears.

“Hi, honey,” said Jack, before kissing Natasha on the cheek and sitting down beside her. He looked across at Jade and said, “Hi. How are you holding up?”

The stress had brought dark circles to Jade’s eyes. “Okay,” she replied, with little enthusiasm, before asking what was really on her mind. “Mister Dúc, he angry?” she blurted.

“No, not with you. Everything went well. Dúc has ... received a lot of money from Giang for you.”

“He angry with Giang?”

“Don’t worry about Giang. The important thing is that you’re okay. Dúc does not think you ran away and he has received a large amount of cash as compensation.”

The relief was evident on Jade’s face and she gave a genuine smile for the first time in several months.

“You like?” she asked, gesturing to her clothes.

“I like it very much,” replied Jack. He looked at Natasha and said, “I see you got her a haircut. Not a bad idea, although where Holly lives, it wasn’t ...”

“That was Jade’s idea,” said Natasha.

“It looks nice,” said Jack, smiling at Jade.

“I no have to look pretty for men,” replied Jade.

Jack gestured to the shopping bags piled next to Jade and turned to Natasha and said, “Hey, honey, it looks like you girls have been having fun.”

“It has been fun,” said Natasha.

“I pay you back, Jack,” said Jade. “Much money you honey pay for me.”

“No, Jade,” said Natasha. “I told you, this is our gift to you.”

“No,” replied Jade. “Too much. I pay back some day quick. You no worry.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” said Jack. “I’ve called Holly, the woman you’ll be working for. We’re to meet her at five. We have to get going.”

“In North Van’?” questioned Natasha.

Jack nodded and said, “But she wants to meet me at a place in some strip mall near her house. She said she has a surprise to show me.”

“What place?”

“She wouldn’t say. She said I would know when I got there.”

Minutes later, they placed the shopping bags in Jack’s car and Jade sat in the passenger seat while Jack said goodbye to Natasha.

“Did you know she didn’t even have any underwear on?” whispered Natasha.

“How would I know that?” replied Jack.

Natasha paused, smiled and said, “Correct answer, Officer.”

Jack drove slowly through the strip mall, grinned, and parked the car.

“You see Miss Holly?” asked Jade.

Jack shook his head and said, “No ... but she’ll be in that coffee shop over there.”

As they approached the coffee shop, Jade said, “It closed. Sign say grand open ... something.”

“Grand opening, tomorrow,” said Jack, as he knocked on the door.

Holly was quick to unlock the door and hugged Jack and beckoned them inside. After Jack introduced Jade, Holly said, “So what do you think? My own place now!”

Jack looked around. The room was spotless and redand-white checkered tableclothes were already in place. “This looks great,” he said.

“I’ll have flowers on every table tomorrow morning. What do you think of the name?”

“The Torn Twenty,” said Jack. “I like it.”

Holly gestured to an item on the wall behind the cash register. Jack saw that it was a framed twenty-dollar bill that had been torn in half. The glass held it in place and allowed for a small space between the two halves.

“Why you put money in picture?” asked Jade.

Holly smiled and said, “I used to work for someone in a coffee shop. That was the best tip I ever received,” she said, glancing at Jack. “It came in two pieces. It brought me luck. Now I have my own place. Speaking of which, we should get going. I’ve got a girl babysitting from next door. I said I would be back in time for her to be home for dinner.”

A short time later, Holly and Jack watched as Jade sat on the living room floor playing with Charlie and Jenny.

Charlie sat on the floor propped up with his back to the sofa while Jade pretended to drive a small plastic car up his arm and onto his tummy where she said, “Oh, car stuck!”

Charlie squealed and giggled as Jade tickled his stomach. Linh saw that Pops was about to leave the room and she shook as she crawled naked toward the toilet to wash the urine from her head. The chain rattled on the floor and he looked up.

“You worthless little beast,” said Pops, “tonight I have a treat for you. It’s not a red-circle day, but here,” he said, reaching into the box at the far end of the room.

Linh glanced at the calendar on the wall and back at the box. Her clothes were in that box ... along with metal objects that Pops would sometimes clang together while he looked at her, telling her she would have to wait until her first red-circle day to find out what surprises awaited her.

He pulled out a jacket and threw it at her.

Linh put it on. It wasn’t her jacket, but it looked familiar—a look of horror crossed her face and she looked up at Pops.

It was the response Pops wanted. He laughed, and moments later Linh heard the passageway door creak shut and she was alone.

She slowly put her hand in the pocket and felt the tissue paper containing the pearl necklace from Ha Long Bay.

chapter twenty-five

At nine o’clock Monday morning, Randy drove Jack and Laura to the Vancouver International Airport.

“What do they use for money over there?” asked Randy.

“The Vietnamese dong,” said Jack. “A hundred dollars Canadian is worth approximately 1.5 million dong.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No, dead serious. When I checked with the bank I figured I’d need a wheelbarrow to pack it around,” he chuckled. “Apparently they have really large denominations. They also don’t allow you to take the dong out of Vietnam, so you don’t want to get more than you’re going to spend. Banks outside of the country don’t carry it, but you can get it at ATMs in Vietnam. I’m also told that the American dollar is widely accepted.”

“I’d like to go there someday,” said Randy. “Hell of a long flight, though.”

“Tell us about it,” said Jack. “Leaves at noon and we don’t arrive until ten-thirty tomorrow night. Even with the time difference, it’s still twenty-and-a-half hours’ flight time.”

“We’re going to be tired puppies,” said Laura.

“At least the Russians will be in the same boat when they fly out tomorrow,” said Randy.

“I’m impressed you got permission for us to go this fast,” said Jack.

Randy grinned and said, “A lot of phone calls to a lot of people who aren’t used to working weekends. It was good to let them know how the rest of us work. What was really nice was being able to tell them to call Isaac direct if there were any problems. There weren’t. Funny how that works.”

“You’ll confirm the Russians do board tomorrow?” asked Jack.

“I’ll do it personally. Any changes and I’ll let you know. Are you being met at the airport in Hanoi?”

“Yes, the Canadian Consulate arranged for a local to pick us up. I think the title was a Doctor Son, from the Interpol desk of the General Department of National Police.”

“A doctor?”

“Probably in criminal behaviour. He speaks English.”

Randy gave Jack a sideways glance and asked, “Has Quaile had anything to say to you about this?”

“Haven’t spoken with him, or seen him since last Wednesday when he sent me to Staffing.”

“Good. Consider yourself on loan to our office until this is finished.”

“With pleasure.”

Isaac called Randy Otto later that morning and Randy updated him on the investigation. When Randy told him about Giang being murdered, Isaac shook his head. So it begins ...

“This is right after he met with Corporal Taggart?” asked Isaac.

“Yes, sir. It had to have been within the hour.”

“And where was Corporal Taggart when Giang was actually murdered?”

“In our office making notes. He certainly wasn’t responsible.”

No, he never is. It’s always a coincidence ...

“We’re checking the possibility that Giang may have been responsible for Hang’s death.”

With Taggart involved, that would explain why he’s dead. Of course, it would just be a coincidence ...

“But it doesn’t appear likely,” continued Randy. “He doesn’t have any previous history of deviation that would fit the profile. Long record for violence, drugs, extortion and the like ... but I don’t think he’s our man.”

“What about Dúc or the Russians as viable suspects?” asked Isaac.

“Dúc doesn’t fit the profile, either. We’re not sure about the Russians. Still waiting to hear back on their history, but on the surface, I would say not. I think it is someone they know, however.”

“Keep me apprised. If anything happens to the Russians when they arrive in Hanoi, I want to be called, day or night.”

“If something happens to the Russians, sir?”

“I meant with the Russians,” replied Isaac, before hanging up.

It was eleven-thirty Tuesday night before Jack and Laura retrieved their luggage and arrived at the Vietnamese customs counter. The customs agent motioned with his arm and a man quickly came forward and introduced himself as Doctor Son.

Doctor Son was a short, stocky man and Jack estimated that he was in his mid-fifties. He looked friendly and gave a firm handshake. Soon after, Jack realized that Doctor Son was of average height in his country.

“Your name is like the star up in the sky?” asked Laura. He smiled and said, “No. It is S-O-N. In Vietnamese it means ‘mountain.’ I like it if you just call me Sonny.”

Minutes later, they stepped outside the airport to face a cool breeze and a light mist.

“My image of Vietnam was jungle, heat, and humidity,” said Laura.

“Down south it is,” said Sonny. “Hanoi is much like Vancouver in the winter. Cold and wet.”

“You have been to Vancouver?” asked Jack.

“Six years ago. I worked there for two weeks with narcotics investigators to learn how the police work in Canada.”

“What did you think?”

“You are fortunate. You have lots of money. Most of us have scooters, old cameras, very few radios ... mostly cellphones. Mostly what we have for listening ... bugs, you call them, is old equipment the Russians gave us during the war with the Americans. You are very lucky. Today, I was able to borrow a car because of your status.”

“We have status?” murmured Laura.

Sonny whisked them along their way. Once in Hanoi, Jack and Laura saw that many of the women wore conical hats, suited for rain and sun. Many of the men wore green pith helmets, something else that was left over from past conflicts.

The streets were mostly packed with motor scooters and bicycles. Pedestrians appeared to walk blindly in all directions as they crossed the street. The blare of horns was almost non-stop.

“Aren’t these people afraid of being run over?” asked Jack.

Sonny smiled and said, “It is different here. We are a poor country and do not have as many streetlights. It is the driver’s responsibility not to hit the pedestrians. It is a good idea to walk slowly when you cross the street and maintain the same speed. Drivers will judge as to which side of you they will pass on.”

“Do you get a lot of traffic fatalities here?” asked Laura.

“Oh, yes. Very many.”

It was midnight when Sonny checked them into the Hotel Happy Holiday. It was located on what was now a fairly deserted street, a couple of blocks out of the mainstream of traffic. The hotel looked quaint and the lobby was open to the second level where the hotel operated a small restaurant.

“We are on the third floor,” said Sonny, pushing the button for the lobby elevator.

After waiting several seconds, Sonny said something to the desk clerk who answered back.

“He says sometimes it gets stuck,” said Sonny.

Jack couldn’t tell if his tone was apologetic or that of exasperation. “That’s okay,” he said. “After the flight we’ve been on, I’d rather walk and get the circulation moving.”

When they arrived on the third floor, Jack saw that the portion of the hotel which housed the rooms was built with the middle opened up. It made the place noisier, as did the tile floors, but it also looked picturesque. There was one elevator and one set of stairs on opposite sides of each floor, allowing access up and down to the different levels.

“Laura, you will have this room,” said Sonny. “Jack, you will have the room next to her.”

Laura put her luggage in her room and went to Jack’s room.

“I’ll lend you this,” said Sonny, passing Jack a cellphone and business card. “If there is a problem with anything while you are here, please call me.”

“Thanks. Much appreciated,” replied Jack.

“Tomorrow night when the Russians arrive, they will be staying in the room directly above you,” said Sonny, looking at Jack. “I will stay in your room with you. I speak Russian.”

“Their room will be bugged?” asked Jack.

“If the equipment decides to work,” said Sonny. “I will also have men to follow them wherever they go.”

“Great,” replied Jack. “I think our faces would stand out in this city.”

Sonny smiled and said, “They would. You are both tall ....” he paused and looked at Laura and said, “You, of course, would never be good at following people.”

“I’m sorry?” replied Laura, not sure that she heard him correctly.

“You must know that you would not be good for such a duty. You are too beautiful. Men would remember seeing you.”

Laura waited until Sonny left and turned to Jack and asked, “Did I just receive a compliment or an insult?”

“I don’t know. I’m too tired to think. See you in the morning.”

Six hours later, Jack awakened to the echo of people chatting and the noise of tiny rollers on suitcases being dragged across the tiled floors to the elevators. Moments later, he heard the sound of a shower in the room next to him and knew that Laura was up. He met her for breakfast and suggested a walk around the area before noon.

“This is nerve-wracking,” muttered Laura, as they crossed various streets. “These scooters and cars are zooming past so close I can touch them.”

“The trick is to keep walking at a steady pace,” said Jack. “Don’t make eye contact with the drivers. I just did and ended up doing a jig while we tried to second guess each ...”

“Silk!” shouted Laura. “Tailor-made! Success!”

Laura gestured to a mannequin in a store window wearing a woman’s traditional-style Vietnamese dress known as an áo-dài. The long gown was tailored to snugly fit the body and two long slits along the side allowed the gown to have free-floating panels in the front and the back. Silk slacks were worn underneath.

Laura was pleased to find that the clerk spoke broken English.

Laura turned to Jack and said, “Can you believe the price? Twenty-two bucks American. This would cost a fortune at home. I like the emerald green dress with white slacks. Do you think Elvis would like it?”

“It’ll look great,” said Jack.

“Two for twenty dollar each,” the clerk told them.

After some discussion with the clerk, Jack ordered a similar outfit for Natasha. “Same figure, only shorter,” he said.

Laura whispered in his ear and said, “Tell her to make yours a bit larger through the chest,” while indicating her breasts.

“You can explain that to her.”

Laura laughed and said, “Tell you what, buy me a conical hat and I will.”

Just before noon, they returned to their hotel. As promised, Jack bought Laura a conical hat, along with an extra one for Natasha. The total price for the hats came to two American dollars. As a souvenir for himself, he bought a green pith helmet with a small badge on the front. The badge had a single gold star on a red background to closely match the Vietnamese flag. “How do you like it?” he asked Laura as he modelled the helmet. “Could I pass as a local?”

“Too tall, round eyes, too tall,” she retorted.

Sonny arrived at Jack’s room on schedule and Laura mentioned that they had been out shopping.

“What do you think?” asked Jack, indicating the green helmet he still wore.

Sonny grinned and said, “Many people use them as rice buckets here, but they are not that good.”

“They cook rice in these?” asked Jack.

Sonny chuckled and said, “No, that is what I call motorcycle helmets.”

“I’ve noticed that some helmets have a similar badge on the front with the gold star over an upper background in red and the lower half in blue.”

“That badge was special made for when the Communists won the war with the Americans. It was worn by the Northern soldiers when the last push was made to get the Americans out. It is a symbol of reunification between north and south Vietnam.”

“Were you in the war?” asked Jack.

Sonny nodded. “I was a teenager and fought for the North, but I also have family in the South. I had an uncle who fought for the South during the war. When the Americans pulled out, he was isolated deep in the Mekong Delta. Later he escaped to Cambodia and four years later made it to America.”

“An American citizen now?” asked Jack.

Sonny shook his head, replying, “The Americans told him he was too late. They would not accept him. My uncle went to Canada and became a Canadian citizen. He lives in Vancouver.”

“That’s good,” said Jack.

“The Americans treat you like a lemon,” said Sonny.

“How is that?” asked Laura.

“They squeeze you until there is no juice left and then throw you out,” he said, bitterly.

“Tough times back then,” said Jack. “Tough decisions being made by bureaucrats who never saw either end of a rifle.”

Sonny smiled. “You are right. Now I do not like to talk politics. It is best forgotten. Many American tourists come here now. They are most welcome.” He paused and added, “I have found them much friendlier now that I am not shooting at them.”

All three laughed and left the hotel to go for lunch to a place that Sonny recommended. They walked through crowded streets and eventually came to a small restaurant where they seated themselves.

Jack pointed to a line on the menu. Bún bì, thit n ong, cha giò. “Strips of grilled pork with noodles?” he asked.

“Yes,” replied Sonny. “Your Vietnamese is very good. So is that selection.”

“You understand that?” asked Laura in surprise.

“I have a favourite restaurant I go to whenever I’m in Victoria,” said Jack. “It’s called the Saigon Night. That’s number eighteen on their menu. It is what almost everyone orders.”

Laura ordered the same selection on Jack’s advice and discovered that the meal consisted of a combination of rice vermicelli with shredded strips of grilled pork topped with peanuts and spring rolls filled with shrimp and crab. She also asked for a knife and fork.

“You don’t use chopsticks?” asked Jack.

Laura shook her head and said, “I can never seem to master them. I’m afraid I’ll end up sticking one up my nose.”

“I thought you worked a UC op’ in Bangkok?”

“Actually, the Thai are one of the few Asian cultures that don’t use chopsticks. They use a fork and a tablespoon. They push the food onto the spoon with the fork and eat it that way. They also tend to order the food on platters for the centre of the table and everyone helps themselves. Very social. Kind of nice, really.”

Jack also added several clumps of hot chili paste from a small dish he found amongst the condiments.

“Watch it, Jack,” Sonny warned. “Very hot.”

Jack nodded and said, “I know. I love this stuff.”

Laura found the food to be delicious without the chili paste.

“You both like beer?” asked Sonny. He waited until he received affirmative nods and ordered three bottles of Huda.

Jack picked up the bill when it arrived and discovered that the total was less than twelve American dollars.

They spent the rest of the day sightseeing. Sonny took them to Uncle Ho’s Mausoleum and pointed out the Canadian embassy across the street as they approached the mausoleum.

Jack and Laura were warned to look sombre at all times and lower their head to show respect as they entered the mausoleum. Guards with harsh, angry faces ensured that cameras were not taken inside and that people walked single file.

The experience was a reminder to Jack that he was now in a communist country and understood the fear that people developed toward authority.

Beside the mausoleum was a large park with many trees and ponds. Sonny led them down a path to show them where Uncle Ho lived during the war with the Americans.

“I never see any birds,” noted Jack.

“People eat them,” said Sonny.

“Even the little ones?”

“Yes.”

They viewed the small bamboo structure and tiny room with a single bed that had been used by Uncle Ho.

“Did Ho Chi Minh ever marry?”

Sonny quickly glanced around to see who might have heard the question and said, “Keep your head down. That is not talked about.” He saw the bemused look on Jack’s face and added, “The official version is no, he never married.”

“I guess he was gay,” Jack whispered to Laura.

Later that day, Sonny also took them to what was formerly the Hoa Lo Prison. It had been built by the French in 1896 and was home to thousands of Vietnamese who were imprisoned, tortured, and lost their lives.

In 1954 the communist party took over North Vietnam and the building became a state prison. From 1964 to 1973 it also became a prison for captured American pilots who nicknamed it the Hanoi Hilton.

In 1993 most of the prison was demolished to make room for commercial property but a small portion of it was preserved for historic value, complete with dungeon-type cells with rows of shackles.

It was depressing, but for Jack and Laura, it was even more so. The shackles were a graphic reminder of a more recent victim who had been chained ... and a reminder of the real reason they had come to Vietnam.

On their way back to the Hotel Happy Holiday, Sonny pointed at a passing motor scooter being ridden by two men. On the back of the scooter was a small cage containing three dogs.

“Look,” he said. “Those are dognappers.”

“Dognappers?” asked Laura, watching the scooter quickly disappear amongst the traffic.

“Dog meat is considered a delicacy to Koreans. Sometimes to tribes in northern Vietnam also. Men on scooters will drive by and steal dogs.”

“In Canada, people on scooters steal women’s purses,” said Jack.

“Was that really pork we had for lunch?” asked Laura.

Sonny smiled and said, “Yes, you don’t have to worry. Dog meat is very expensive. Pork is much cheaper.”

Back in Vancouver, Randy passed the taxi containing the two Russians as it entered the perimeter leading to the Vancouver International Airport. He parked his car at the International Departures level and was met inside the doors by Aaron, who was an RCMP officer attached to a special unit at the airport.

At the airport Aaron routinely did surveillance on people as requested by various departments, such as Drug Section. On slower days, he would pick his own targets who looked suspicious, sometimes discovering drug mules or money launderers passing through from city to city or country to country.

Aaron also had the right connections with airline services to obtain information to meet various investigative needs. Aaron didn’t look like a policeman and blended into the crowd like any other passenger ... except the attaché case he carried also took pictures.

“Not busy today?” asked Randy. “I didn’t know whether to call you or not.”

“Not a problem,” replied Aaron. “You want photos of these guys?”

“May as well.”

Moments later Randy saw the taxi arrive and Moustache Pete and Fat Man stepped out.

“These your boys?” asked Aaron.

“That’s them.”

“You should check with Intelligence. They took close-up pictures of these two just a couple of weeks ago. Man, it really shook them.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s kind of funny, really. I was tailing this guy and didn’t know who he was. I didn’t find out until later when I scooped his licence plate and showed his picture around the office that he was one of our guys. Staff Sergeant Quaile from Intelligence. He was following these same two guys. Walked right up to them and said, Hello, comrades, or something to that effect and took their picture.”

“Quaile did that?” said Randy, in disbelief.

“Yeah. These two guys looked so rattled I thought they were going to run out of the airport. I didn’t know what the hell was going on, but figure Quaile must have been trying to scare them from taking their flight or something.”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“No, he was gone long before I found out who he was. It was none of my business.” Aaron gave a nod toward the two Russians and said, “Here they come. I take it you want to be discreet this time?”

“Definitely,” said Randy, through clenched teeth. “And after, I want copies of every picture you took last time they were here.”

chapter twenty-six

“It was simply a momentary lack of judgement,” said Quaile.

Isaac glowered back at him, pointed to the photos on his desk and yelled, “A momentary lack of judgement! Look at their faces! The only person more shocked is me!”

“Sir, I was following them and was about to take a picture when they turned suddenly and saw me. I considered it a good response. They’d never suspect the police of doing something like that.”

“Only if they presumed the police were competent,” said Isaac. “This is why the investigation fell flat in Costa Rica! A child was brutally tortured and murdered because of these two men. The same two men you had the gall to tell me weren’t worth working on!”

“We didn’t know that, then, sir. How was I to know? I believe I made the right decision with the information I had available.”

Isaac rested his elbows on his table, clasping his hands together near his chin as he weighed over the scenario that Quaile had just told him. “I’m going to give this some serious thought,” he said. “You’re dismissed ... for now.”

Moustache Pete and Fat Man arrived in their room at the Hotel Happy Holiday as scheduled. Fifteen minutes after their arrival, Sonny took off a set of headphones and turned a dial on a receiver. Both Jack and Laura heard the sound of two men snoring.

“Looks like we weren’t the only tired ones,” said Laura.

A light knock on Jack’s door was answered by Sonny, who spoke quietly to one of his men. He closed the door and turned to Jack and Laura and said, “When they checked in, they asked to be awakened at nine o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“It sounds like we can all get some sleep,” said Jack.

Sonny dismissed his team after telling them to be back at the hotel by seven in the morning. Laura returned to her own room and Jack and Sonny went to bed while listening to the static noise over the monitor of two men snoring in the room above.

The next day the Russians were awakened on schedule. They took a leisurely breakfast in the hotel while a surveillance team relayed their activities to Sonny, who stayed in the room with Jack and Laura. After eating, Sonny was informed that the Russians had decided to take a dip in the hotel pool.

Jack saw Sonny’s face as he wrinkled his nose while talking in Vietnamese over the phone. When he hung up, Jack said, “Let me guess, they both walked to the pool wearing Speedos, black socks, and sandals.”

“You speak Vietnamese?” asked Sonny.

Jack and Laura both laughed and Jack said, “No, only a few words ... but we have seen this unfortunate sight before.” It was not until mid-afternoon and after the Russians had downed several vodkas on ice while sitting in the hotel restaurant before Jack and Laura received some news of interest.

“They’ve just met a Vietnamese man,” said Sonny. “He arrived in a taxi. They are ordering more drinks.”

Minutes later, Sonny found out that the Vietnamese man had flagged the taxi down off the street. “Don’t worry,” said Sonny. We will find out who he is.”

It was early evening when the Russians and their Vietnamese escort left the hotel and crossed a nearby plaza to a restaurant for dinner. After dinner, Sonny reported that the three men had gone to the Thang Long Water Puppet Theatre.

Sonny explained that this theatre was world renowned. He said the puppeteers stood behind bamboo screens in a large pool of water and used bamboo poles to raise puppets out of the water to complete a performance.

Interesting, thought Jack, but nothing to do with our investigation!

Following the theatre, the two Russians caught a taxi back to the hotel while the Vietnamese man took a taxi elsewhere.

It was ten o’clock at night when the two Russians arrived in the lobby and checked at the desk for messages. There weren’t any.

Sonny put on the headphones as the Russians entered their room. “They are angry,” he said. “They expected to receive a message and didn’t. Now they are tired and are going to bed—wait they are phoning ... no, they have just asked to be awakened at nine o’clock again.”

An hour later, Sonny took off the headphones and turned up the volume to the familiar sound of snoring.

Sonny received a call on his own phone. When he hung up, he said, “Good news for you. The Vietnamese man went to an apartment. We think it is his place because he had a key to the door. His name is known to us. He is the captain of a boat and has been suspected of smuggling drugs in the past.”

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. Much better news than hearing they came for a puppet show.

Sonny broke off his surveillance team with the order that they be back at the hotel by seven in the morning as usual.

It was after midnight when Jack was awakened from his sleep by the sound of a telephone ringing. It took him a second to realize that the sound was coming over the monitor and not from his own room. Sonny quickly got up and put on the headphones.

Jack quickly put on his pants and ran next door to summon Laura.

The minutes ticked by as Jack and Laura watched Sonny, who was scribbling notes as he listened. “They are arguing,” he said. “Both Russians have been talking on the phone. They are angry. They are saying to wait until tomorrow. The man they are talking with ... he is speaking English, but his accent is Vietnamese.”

“Maybe the boat captain?” offered Jack.

“No,” said Sonny. “The Russians mentioned having met the boat captain on time tonight. He is asking why this person did not meet them earlier.” Sonny pressed the earphones closer to his head and said, “The caller said it is the same place as last time and that he would meet them out front.”

“Out front of where? Here or the place?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know.” Sonny muttered something in Vietnamese and ripped off the headphones. Jack didn’t need it translated to know that he swore.

“They’re on the move?” he asked.

“Yes ... and I have no team to follow!”

“You have us,” said Jack, grabbing his new helmet. “I’ll stoop. Laura—”

“I’ll get it,” she said.

“Wait,” ordered Jack. Above them they could hear the sounds of the Russians’ voices. “They’re already outside their room,” whispered Jack. “Give them a few seconds’ head start. If they see us coming out of here at this time of night at the same time as them, the jig will be up.”

When the sound of the Russians’ voices disappeared from above, Laura grabbed her conical hat and joined Jack and Sonny as they ran down the stairs. The lobby was empty and they hurried out the front doors of the hotel.

A thick mat of black clouds covered the night sky and pieces of garbage were gusting down the street, still wet from an earlier rain. The hotel was well lit, but, within a few metres, the street disappeared into clusters of dark shadows amongst merging streets and alleys.

Sonny ran toward his car, which was parked nearby. “I’ll circle the block,” he said. “You walk, if you see them, call me on my cell or wave me down.”

Seconds later, Jack and Laura saw a taxi nose out of an alley in front of them and they stepped back into the shadows.

“See anything?” asked Jack.

“Not sure.”

The taxi sped off down the street and Jack and Laura saw two figures sitting in the back seat.

“Damn it!” said Jack, watching as the taxi put on its turn signal.

Headlights from another car appeared in the alley and Jack and Laura watched.

“Sonny’s got ’em,” said Laura.

Jack saw Sonny zoom out of the alley without stopping and speed down the street, turning where the taxi did.

The street was now quiet, void of any human activity except for Jack and Laura.

“That had to be them,” said Jack.

“Now what do we do?” asked Laura.

“Back to my room and wait.”

They were just about to enter the hotel when Jack shoved Laura up against the wall and pulled her conical hat to one side as he nestled his face into her neck.

“What the ...?”

“Shut up. It’s them,” whispered Jack.

Laura heard the hotel door open and the sound of Fat Man’s voice beside her as he spoke angrily in Russian to Moustache Pete.

Laura remained where she was, peeking past the side of Jack’s face as the Russians walked past them and stood nearby on the sidewalk. “They’re just standing there,” she whispered. “Glancing back at us ... or maybe the lobby. Looks like they’re waiting for someone. What should we do?”

“What kind of perfume are you wearing?” whispered Jack.

“You ass!” whispered Laura. “How could ...”

Jack covered his mouth as he sneezed before whispering, “I have allergies to certain cosmetics. Sorry.”

“Oh.”

“Why do you think I asked?”

“Because you’re a man—you know why!”

Jack snickered and said, “You’re right ... and if I keep standing like this, I’ll forget why we’re here. Come on, straighten your hat and make a break for the lobby. Just don’t look back before we reach the desk.”

Jack and Laura hurried inside the lobby and the desk clerk said, “Please don’t use the elevator. It’s sticking between floors.”

Jack had no intention of using the elevator and he took out the cellphone that Sonny had provided him and quickly punched in the numbers. “Busy,” he told Laura.

Outside, the Russians were looking down the street and stepped forward as a set of headlights appeared.

Jack hit the redial button again. “Still busy,” he sighed. “Sonny’s probably trying to get help. Doesn’t know he’s on the wrong guys.”

Jack and Laura watched as a taxi drove up, but the Russians waved for it to continue and stepped back.

“They’re waiting for someone to pick them up in a car,” observed Jack, heading over to talk with the desk clerk.

“Do you drive a car?” asked Jack.

“No. Motor scooter,” he replied.

“Is it at the hotel?”

“The red Honda Helix parked out front,” he replied, suspiciously.

“I want to rent it from you.”

“No, sorry, I cannot do that.”

“I will pay you fifty American dollars.”

“Fifty! I don’t know ... I—”

“That’s fifty an hour, I mean.”

The clerk smiled. “Here are the keys. Take your time. There is much to see in Hanoi. May I recommend the lounge at the top of the Sheraton? It has a beautiful view of the city at night.”

Laura tapped Jack on the shoulder and said, “Their ride just arrived.”

As Jack and Laura scrambled onto the scooter, Jack pushed the redial button again and heard the busy tone.

“We’re on our own,” he shouted to Laura.

Oh, man ... Laura wrapped one arm around Jack’s waist and, with the other, hung on to her conical hat as Jack gunned the gas and the engine roared to life.

chapter twenty-seven

Jack used all his concentration to dart amongst the tangle of pedestrians and traffic as he followed the car onto a busy thoroughfare through the heart of Hanoi and an area that did not sleep at night.

He skidded to a sideways stop to avoid hitting a woman who was carrying two large baskets balanced on each end of a pole as she crossed the street. The woman uttered harsh words at them in Vietnamese. Seconds later, he was once more weaving, twisting, and turning until he was in a position to keep only a couple of vehicles between him and the car they were following.

Eventually the car left the crowded streets and entered an area where homes, apartments, and businesses were in darkness. Jack slowed, dropping farther behind ... and the farther behind he was the more tense he felt. It was a delicate balancing act. Too close and you are spotted. Too far and you lose them.

The car’s brake lights came on and it slowed to a crawl. Jack looked for a place to turn off, but there was none and he knew he would have to drive past. Just as he neared the car it turned into a narrow lane.

Jack continued past the lane and was about to make a turn to come back when Laura said, “I saw the flash of the brake lights in the lane. They may be stopping.”

Jack parked the scooter and both he and Laura hurried to the entrance to the lane and peeked around the corner. The street was in complete darkness but they could see the silhouette of a car parked halfway down the lane.

“You going to try Sonny again?” whispered Laura.

Jack looked around and did not see any street signs. “Do you know where we are?” he asked.

“Not a clue.”

“Likewise. Come on,” said Jack, shutting off the phone. They entered the lane, slinking close to the buildings as they moved toward the car. When they got close, Jack whispered, “That’s the car, but nobody is inside.”

Laura scribbled the car’s licence plate on the inside of her forearm. That way, the information was out of sight and perspiration would not make it illegible later.

Jack glanced around and saw several apartment buildings were crammed into the area where the car was parked.

“Not after all this,” lamented Laura. “You don’t happen to have a spare street light in your pocket, do you?”

Jack held his breath and listened. Let me hear a voice ... footsteps ... the sound of a lock ... anything! His eyes searched the darkness to no avail.

“Let’s try the closest apartment building,” whispered Laura. “If we hurry, it might not be too late to hear a door or something.”

They started toward the apartment as the moon appeared for the first time that night. Jack felt his pulse quicken and he grabbed Laura by the shoulder. “Over there,” he whispered. “Two—no, three people walking.”

Laura looked where Jack pointed. She saw the targets briefly outlined in the moonlight just before they disappeared inside another apartment building.

Jack and Laura followed and entered the dilapidated building. It was five stories high and built of cement blocks that had never been painted, inside or out. They heard the sound of the Fat Man’s voice muttering in Russian from the stairwell leading up.

They crept up the stairwell after them. The scrape of the men’s shoes echoed on the steps from above. Jack saw that the stairwell was open to the corridors, with only a single overhead light giving a dim glow from the middle of each corridor.

Jack motioned for Laura to pause and they heard the sound of the Fat Man panting as he slowly climbed upwards. They allowed a little more space between them before continuing. On the fourth level, they heard the men leave the stairwell and walk down the open corridor.

Seconds later, Jack heard the sound of a knock on a door. He peered around the corner and saw the men being let into an apartment part way down the hall.

“I’m going to give you the cell,” he whispered to Laura. “Go back out and try to figure out where we are and call Sonny. Make sure you’re far enough away when you do. I don’t want anyone hearing an English voice.”

Laura nodded and took the phone and started to descend the stairs. Seconds later, she returned and grabbed Jack’s sleeve. “Come on, hurry,” she said. “Someone is coming up the steps behind us.”

Jack and Laura went up another level and listened to the sound of two people approaching from below. Their footsteps indicated that they also headed down the same corridor as the Russians.

Jack and Laura went back down to watch and saw the figures of a woman and a child venturing down the hall. The child pointed to the apartment door that the Russians had entered. The woman bent over and whispered to the child who then scurried back toward the stairwell.

Jack and Laura quickly retreated once more and heard the child running down the stairwell toward the exit before returning to their position to watch.

The woman knocked on the apartment door. It opened a crack and a short conversation in Vietnamese took place. The door closed with the woman remaining in the hall.

Seconds later, the solitude of the apartment building came to an abrupt end. The woman screamed in Vietnamese and the door rattled with the pounding of her fists. Voices shouted out from nearby apartments.

Another explosion of voices came from inside that apartment, with a man yelling in Vietnamese while the Fat Man yelled in Russian. Jack heard Moustache Pete say, “Make that bitch shut up!”

“Fuck you!” yelled the woman in the hall. “Give me Chi ... or I’ll stand here and yell all night!”

“She sounds like an American!” whispered Laura.

The woman turned and Jack saw her face and said, “She’s Caucasian all right. Looks like she’s only in her early twenties. Whoever she is, she’s liable to get herself killed if she keeps this up.”

“Just love foreign travel, don’t you?” said Laura.

Jack caught her meaning and replied, “Yeah, especially the part where we’re not allowed to carry guns.”

The apartment door opened again and another heated exchange took place in Vietnamese between the woman and a man in the apartment. A neighbouring apartment door opened and another man stuck his head out to see the commotion.

Seconds later, Moustache Pete appeared holding a girl by the wrist. He flung her into the hall and stepped back inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

The girl started yelling and Jack guessed she was about eleven or twelve years old. The young woman grabbed her by the wrist and started for the stairwell, but the girl was crying and dragging her feet as she tried to return to the apartment.

The woman ignored her demands and spoke harshly in Vietnamese as she dragged the girl down the hall.

Jack and Laura stepped back before following the woman and girl down the stairwell. They stopped at the exit and watched as the woman argued with her just outside the door. The woman cursed in English, but continued to speak Vietnamese.

“What do you want to do?” asked Laura.

Jack shook his head in wonderment and said, “I don’t know who this young lady is, but I think we should talk to her and explain who we are.”

“Could blow our whole case if this gets back to the guys upstairs.”

“She has guts trying to save this kid. I think we can trust her—let’s hope we can do it quietly.”

Jack and Laura stepped out onto the sidewalk and Jack took off the green helmet he had been wearing.

The woman and girl quit talking and stared at the new arrivals.

“Excuse me,” said Jack quietly. “Does this girl speak any English?”

“Not really,” the woman replied,” looking at them suspiciously. “Her name is Chi. She only knows the basic manners and to say hello. Who are you?”

“We are both police officers from Canada.”

“From Canada!” the woman said in amazement.

“Yes. We are what are sometimes referred to as Mounties. My name is Jack Taggart and this is my partner, Laura Secord.”

“I know what the RCMP is,” she replied. “I was born in Calgary. My name is Tarah Mulligan.”

“You’re Canadian!” It was Jack’s turn to be amazed. “What the hell are you doing in Hanoi?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing, but first, do you have any identification?” she asked.

Jack stepped closer to discreetly show his badge. Chi knocked Tarah’s arm out of the way and saw the badge.

“Công an!” the child gasped.

Jack knew it was Vietnamese for police and put his finger to his lips, but Chi immediately started yelling and broke free and ran back toward the apartment.

“Laura,” said Jack. “Grab her and shut her up!”

Laura grabbed her around the waist with one hand and put her other hand over her mouth.

Chi kicked and flailed her arms and started yelling again.

“She bit me!” said Laura.

“Slap a sleeper on her!” ordered Jack.

“We’re not allowed to use—Oh, man ...”

Laura wrapped an arm around Chi’s neck, while using her other arm in a pincer-like move to restrict the flow of blood to the carotid arteries in her neck.

“You sons of bitches!” yelled Tarah. “You’re killing her!” she said, making a grab for Laura as the child went limp.

“Jesus, not you too,” muttered Jack, moving toward Tarah.

chapter twenty-eight

“What the hell! Put me down!” demanded Tarah.

Jack set Tarah on her feet and she angrily looked around. She was now half a block away from the apartment and on the street around the corner from the lane.

Chi was standing looking at Laura, who was holding her by the hand and saying, “See? Tarah is okay now. She was just taking a nap.”

Jack looked at Tarah and said, “I’m sorry. But there are two men in that apartment that we have spent a lot of time trying to catch. They traffic in human flesh ... children,” said Jack, pointing to Chi for emphasis. “We’ve come a long way and can’t afford to jeopardize our investigation at this point.”

“How long was I out?” asked Tarah, blinking her eyes.

“About ten or fifteen seconds. Are you okay?”

Tarah glared at Jack and asked Chi a question in Vietnamese.

Chi nodded that she was okay.

“Did you have to do that to us?” asked Tarah.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t see any other option. I want to catch these guys. Right now, we still don’t have enough evidence to convict them. If they know we’re on to them, we lose everything. I really want them to go to jail.”

“They should be in jail,” said Tarah.

“Does your neck hurt?”

“I’m fine,” admitted Tarah, while massaging her neck with her hand. “I wouldn’t have known I was out, except suddenly you were carrying me and I’m here instead of down there,” she said, using her thumb to point toward the lane. “You freaked me out.”

“What are you doing here?” asked Jack.

“I used to teach in Calgary, but got tired of all the spoiled, snotty little rich kids who think the world owes them a favour. I came here and found kids who really need help. I’m a volunteer with The Blue Dragon Children’s Foundation.”

“I never heard of the Blue Dragon,” said Jack.

“It was started by a man out of Australia,” said Tarah. “In Vietnam, it is the only social work program for street kids. I operate a soup kitchen just a couple of blocks from here. Some kids don’t have any parents or others are from poor families. I entice the children with food, soccer games, music, arts—anything that works. The idea is to try to educate them so they’ll have a better option than ending up in prostitution. At the soup kitchen, we teach them to cook and how to be waiters and waitresses.”

“Sounds impressive,” said Jack.

“If you have time, we have a restaurant called Koto that is run almost entirely by our kids who are older and have been through our program. Many will be able to get jobs in some of the best hotels and restaurants around. We also teach them English, so they’ll have an advantage over the others.”

“I admire you for having the courage to step forward and do what is right. You’ve got a lot of guts.”

Tarah shrugged and said, “If anyone saw these children ... how much they need help ... the look on their faces when you do get through to them. Believe me, it is worth it.”

“What do you know about the men in the apartment you just went to?” asked Jack.

“One of the street kids told me that Chi was being taken and sent to live with some family in America. She’s an orphan here, so I guess it sounded pretty good. When I heard the name of the Vietnamese man who took her, I knew it was probably a lie. He has a reputation for being involved in drugs and prostitution. I found out where Chi was and got her back. No big deal.”

“What you did was a hell of a big deal,” said Jack. “Think maybe we can walk to your soup kitchen and talk?”

“Sure. For a donation, I’ll also make you breakfast.”

When they reached the soup kitchen, Tarah brought them inside a long narrow room with a wooden table lined with chairs. They sat down, but it was apparent that Chi was going to try to escape as soon as she could. Tarah argued with her in Vietnamese and Jack asked her what she said.

“I told her she was too young to end up in some brothel in America. She doesn’t believe me and says she is being adopted by a rich family and will later work in a nice hotel. Yeah, right! Like I haven’t heard that story before! She’s only twelve years old, so ...”

Chi made a dash toward the door, but Tarah grabbed her by the arm and made her sit down.

Jack told Tarah about another child, by the name of Hang, who also headed to America last January on a boat and ended up murdered in Surrey.

“Hang?” questioned Tarah. “It is not that unusual a name here. What did she look like?”

“She had an extra thumb,” said Jack.

Tarah was visibly shaken. “I knew a kid like that. Used to come here once in awhile with her younger sister. She quit coming around Christmas. I asked the younger sister where she was and she told me Hang had been sent to live with relatives in Saigon. Maybe it is just a coincidence. Agent Orange had caused a lot of birth defects. There are many—”

“I have a picture of her,” said Jack, pulling out his wallet. I must warn you, it was taken after she was murdered. It is awful to look at.”

Tarah took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before nodding and reaching for the photo. She looked at the picture and immediately started to sob. Chi also looked, but was too frightened to cry and hugged Tarah and asked her a question in Vietnamese.

“Why is she like this?” asked Tarah, ignoring Chi and pointing to the picture. “Her face ...?”

“She was held captive for months by a sadist and tortured,” said Jack quietly. “Maybe you should explain that to Chi.”

Tarah explained the situation to Chi, who immediately started crying. Tarah hugged her and gently whispered to her. Eventually Chi quit crying but she kept her arms around Tarah. There was no longer any fear of her returning to the apartment.

“Would you ask Chi, please, how many others were in the apartment we were just at?” asked Jack.

Tarah spoke with Chi briefly and Jack saw the surprise register on Tarah’s face.

“She says there were about forty young women,” said Tarah. “Chi guesses that most of the others are between the ages of sixteen to twenty-two. There were also two foreign men and three Vietnamese men in the apartment.”

“The two foreign men are the ringleaders,” said Jack. “They’re both Russian.”

“I had no idea there were that many people in there,” said Tarah. “I thought it was just a couple of women and Chi who were going.”

“Maybe just as well for you that you didn’t know,” said Jack. “Do you know where Hang’s father is now?”

Tarah nodded and said, “His name is Bien. He lives with his mother in a room off an alley in the next block. He works as a tour guide now. He speaks good English. Are you going to tell him?”

Before Jack could reply, Tarah said, “Or maybe I should.”

“We both should,” said Jack. He glanced at Laura and said, “Hand me the cell back, I’m going to call Sonny.”

“Who is Sonny?” asked Tarah.

“A Vietnamese policeman who has been working with us,” said Jack.

“Just a minute,” said Tarah. She spoke with Chi, who nodded and left the room.

“I sent her to get Bien,” continued Tarah. “I told her just to say that I had some urgent news. You might want to speak with him before he talks with the Vietnamese police. The relationship between the police and the people here is very different from Canada. He might be more forthcoming talking to us alone at first.”

“I understand,” said Jack.

“Oh,” said Tarah, “but I guess you need the police to get the people in the apartment before they ...”

“They can wait,” said Jack. “I’ll talk to Bien first. From what we know, the Russians will have probably have left the apartment by now. All they do is take a quick look to confirm the ... quality of the merchandise ... and leave. We need to let things proceed like normal for the bad guys and hope we can get more evidence. Perhaps with the Russians talking to the boat captain or paying him. Something to prove their involvement. Their being in the apartment is not enough.”

“It might be enough here in Vietnam,” suggested Tarah.

Jack nodded and said, “I believe that. But we are trying to solve Hang’s murder. I think the murderer is in Canada. Those are the rules I have to play by.”

Tarah nodded and said, “Whoever did that to Hang ... at the very least, I’d like to see that guy sent here to a Vietnamese jail. It is tough enough over here for ordinary people. Try to imagine what the jails are like.”

“No colour TV or private rooms, I suspect,” said Laura, facetiously.

“Sorry,” said Jack. “If the murder happened in Canada, that’s where he’ll do his time. You said Hang had a sister?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Her name is Linh. She is younger than Hang is ... or was. I think she is about nine or ten.”

“Is she still around?”

“Actually, I haven’t seen her either for ... my God!”

Pops marked another X on the calendar and looked at Linh, who was curled up in a ball on the mattress, facing away from him.

“Only two days left until your first red-circle day,” said Pops. “What special thing do you think the box will hold for you?”

Linh did not move.

“Look at me when I talk to you!” yelled Pops.

Linh remained still so Pops walked over and kicked her lightly on the back of her leg.

Linh yelled in rage and spun quickly, kicking up with her feet and striking Pops on the shin, before leaping to her feet and crouching on the mattress in anticipation of his next move.

Pops stepped back and smiled with amusement. “That is great,” he said. “You are strong ... a fighter. You are the type who will endure much. Not wimp out and kill yourself like your stupid, stupid sister! Guess she didn’t think you were worth trying to protect!”

chapter twenty-nine

Jack saw Chi enter the room with Bien a few steps behind her. He had a round face that seemed out of place on his thin body. He walked with his shoulders stooped, giving the illusion that his face was even bigger and rounder than it really was. His black eyes looked sadly out over puffy mounds of darkened skin. Jack saw a flicker of optimism when Bien glanced his way.

“Are you an American policeman?” asked Bien. “FBI?” he said, as he shuffled toward him.

“No,” said Jack. “We are both Canadian police officers.”

“Canadian?” Bien frowned, but said, “I know why you are here.” He looked at Tarah and continued, “I am sorry, I told Linh to lie to you before. The news you want to tell me, I already know.”

“Tell us what that news is,” said Jack.

“That my daughter ... Hang, was killed in a car accident. Have you brought me her body or her ashes?”

Jack shook his head and said, “Please sit down. First I must ask you to look at a photograph. I have been told that it is a picture of your daughter. It was taken after she died. There are lots of injuries to her face.”

Bien sat and his hands shook as he took the photo in both hands. He looked at it for a moment before pressing it to his chest while squeezing his eyes shut, but not tight enough to stop the silent flow of tears.

Several minutes passed in silence before Bien opened his eyes and looked at the picture again. He choked out the words and said, “Hang ... her face ... did she die quickly? Did she suffer?”

“I will tell you about how she died in a moment,” said Jack. “First I would like you to tell me who told you she died in a car accident.”

Jack saw Bien’s eyes dart around the room before pausing and saying, “I do not know. It was a man I met at the market. He has relatives in America who told him the news.”

Jack watched Bien as he spoke. He grimaced at Bien’s pathetic attempt to lie. In Canada, many of the people who lie say they met someone they don’t know in a bar. Here it is a market. What is he hiding? Why would he lie about the death of his own daughter ... unless ... damn it!

Jack cleared his throat and said, “Bien, if you do not wish to tell me who told you of her death, please tell me this. Where is ...”

“I told you, I do not know the person!”

Time to use another approach. “You must be able to tell me how Hang came to be in Canada and why you believed she was in the United States?”

Bien shook his head and said, “It is late. I need to go. I have to be at work soon,” he added, getting to his feet.

“Bien, please sit down,” said Jack. “Hang did not die in a car accident. She was murdered and her body was found in a Dumpster.”

Jack saw the shock on Bien’s face as he gasped, grabbing the table for support as he fell back into his seat.

“That is not possible,” he said, as his brain grasped for other possibilities. “Perhaps after she was hit by a car she was put ...”

“She was chained and tortured for at least three or four months. Then she committed suicide, but because of what happened to her, it is still murder.”

“Chained and tortured! No! You are lying!” Bien’s face went red with rage. “You hope to catch the men who are smugglers by using such trickery!”

Tarah burst into tears, startling Jack and Bien, who ceased arguing and stared at her in silence.

Several seconds later, Tarah regained her composure enough to speak in halting sentences to Bien in Vietnamese. After a short exchange of conversation, Bien sat back in his chair and wept openly.

“I told him you were not lying,” said Tarah, while fighting to regain her composure. “That the police in Canada would never say such a terrible thing to a parent.”

“Bien,” asked Jack gently, “where is your other daughter? Where is Linh now?”

Bien’s face contorted in anguish and he emitted a moan that filled the room. Tarah moved to sit beside him and put her arm around his shoulders.

Bien looked at Jack and slowly shook his head. “She is in America, too,” he finally said, telling everyone what they already knew.

“Perhaps you’d better start at the beginning,” said Jack.

Bien told him how he was approached by local smugglers who arrived on his doorstep one morning. He described the events that followed, including a painful six weeks of worry when Hang made the trip to America.

“She called me from America,” said Bien. “I did not send Linh until I knew that everything was as it should be. Then I put Linh on the boat. She too, called me from America.”

“When?” asked Jack.

“One week ago,” replied Bien.

Jack and Laura exchanged a glance. That was around the time they had followed the cube van to Vancouver Island and back to Richmond.

“Did Linh sound okay?” asked Jack.

“She was crying because she was just told by Mister Pops that Hang was killed by a car. She said Mister Pops was very nice ... but she was sad.”

“Did she say how she was smuggled into the United States?”

“A man drove her across the border in a car. She saw the signs saying it was the United States border. She was excited to see the signs.”

“She just went through the border as a passenger in a car?” asked Jack. “Didn’t they ask for proof of ...?”

“No, no,” said Bien. “I asked her the same thing. She said she looked up and saw the signs but then pulled a handle to hide and the police at the border did not see her. I do not think that she was supposed to tell me that on the phone, but she was crying and not thinking very clearly. I think it was the same for Hang. She also told me about seeing the sign.”

“Jack,” said Laura. “She was in the trunk!”

“Folding rear seat,” said Jack, feeling nauseous.

“It was her that day who Dúc ...” Laura couldn’t bring herself to finish as the realization sank in as to how close they had been to Linh.

Jack briefly clenched his jaw to quell his tears.

“You know where she is?” asked Bien excitedly.

Jack shook his head and said, “No ... but we do know who one of the smugglers is in Canada. The one, perhaps, who drove her in the trunk of the car.”

“You must find her,” said Bien. “She is not as strong as Hang. She is like her name.”

Tarah saw the puzzled look that Jack and Laura gave each other and said, “The translation of Linh means Gentle Spirit.”

“Hang’s spirit is strong,” said Bien. “She would not commit suicide, knowing that Linh would be coming to such a place.”

Hang’s spirit is strong—don’t you mean, was strong? thought Jack. He looked at Bien and said, “I’m sorry. Our medical examination was very thorough.”

“How did she die?”

“She used some type of metal rod to ... to make herself bleed. By the marks ... and marks on her hand ... we know that it was self inflicted.”

Bien looked at Jack and said, “If that is true, she did not do it for herself. It would be for Linh. She loved her very much. She promised me that she would do whatever was necessary for her sister. If she died, it was to save Linh.”

Silence descended on the room for a minute as everyone became lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Jack placed his hand on Bien’s shoulder. “We will find her,” he said, forcefully. “We will also find out who did this to Hang.”

Bien nodded silently.

“I must call the Vietnamese police now,” said Jack. “There is a man I have been working with. He will want to speak to you.”

“Yes,” said Bien. “I will wait.”

Jack called Sonny and explained the situation. He handed the phone to Tarah to give directions, while watching as Bien walked over and opened the door and stepped outside.

Is he going to take off? Jack glanced at Laura who had also noticed and they quickly followed.

Bien stood on the doorstep. For the second time that night the clouds parted, giving his face an eerie complexion as he looked up at the moon. He dropped to his knees and started crying, while speaking Vietnamese and looking up to the sky.

Jack felt Tarah’s hand touch his arm and he turned and whispered, “We didn’t say anything to him. He just came out here. Maybe he needs time to be alone.”

Tarah shook her head and said, “The translation for Hang is Angel in the Full Moon. Look up. He’s not alone.”

chapter thirty

It was six o’clock in the morning when Sonny dropped Jack and Laura off at their hotel with a promise to call them in a couple of hours after he spoke with his superiors.

As soon as they were alone, Laura said, “Jack ... we had her. She was in the trunk ... we just let her go.”

“I know.”

“I feel like crying. I’m so angry and frustrated,” said Laura, her eyes brimming with tears.

“It was me who let her go. It was my call.”

“I’d like to chain Dúc to a wall. He’d talk.”

“As nice as it is to fantasize, we don’t have the time. We’ve got to do something, fast.”

“What do you think of this Mister Pops? Likely not his real name.”

“My guess is it falls in the realm of the nickname for Dad. I’m going to call CC.”

Jack called Connie Crane to tell her what they had learned.

“How the hell did she end up back in a Dumpster in Canada?” asked Connie. “And now her sister is with the guy, too? Jesus fucking Christ!”

“Dúc is the key,” said Jack.

“Yeah, like he’s going to talk,” said Connie sarcastically. “I’m not even sure if we have grounds for a warrant. Even if we did, if we search and don’t find her, she’ll be killed once they realize we’re on to them.”

“Check the border crossings,” said Jack. “See if Dúc has been across. If Hang did die across the line, why bring her back? I think this happened on our turf. Probably in the Surrey area. That’s where she was found.”

“Dúc is running hookers—maybe he’s got a special place built just for the perverts.”

“A possibility. Actually, it’s a sickening possibility—the Orient Pleasure is in Surrey. Get on it. You’ve got to get into his places for a look.”

“What about your informant? Don’t you have someone connected to that place?”

Jack sighed. “Not anymore. Besides, if that friend had known about it, I would have been told. You’ve got to get a warrant and search everywhere.”

“How, without tipping our hand?”

“Call Rocco Pasquali with the City Anti-Gang Unit. Get him to help. If VPD takes out the warrants under a prostitution investigation, the bad guys may not clue in as to what we are really after. Make it look like the RCMP is just assisting them with the places outside of Vancouver.”

“That might work.”

“You’ve got to do this without mentioning my informant in the warrants, or anything to do with Hang and Linh. Also, don’t mention anything about how the girls arrive at the parlours. Keep the warrants as simple as you can. Do both massage parlours as well as their homes and any other building they own. Search everywhere. Attics, basements, out-buildings, hidden dungeons under garage floors ... look at everything.”

“Dungeons under garage floors?”

“I’ve seen it done for grow-ops. Hidden trap doors under workbenches. Search everywhere. Look for hollow panels. Use the narcs to help. They’re good at it.”

“What if we don’t find her? We could still be signing her death warrant if they get scared.”

“And if you don’t search and she is there, she may die anyway. It’s a chance I think we have to take.”

“Damn risky chance for Linh.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Connie was silent for a moment and replied, “No.”

“They take credit cards at the massage parlours. Maybe you can match some names to your pervert list.”

“I’ll do that. Especially perverts who live in nice homes.”

“Both Hang and Linh told Bien they were in a very wealthy home, but the standards here are different. Any home with more than a couple of rooms or two toilets is considered wealthy by Vietnamese standards.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you identify any perverts, take a look and see if they used the credit cards to purchase construction materials leading up to last January.”

“Will do.”

“Laura and I will catch the next flight back. We’re bringing Bien back with us.”

“Why?”

“Because he couldn’t afford the ticket himself. I’ve already spoken to our Vietnamese contact. He says it won’t be a problem, if we pay for it.”

“No, I mean why ...”

“Damn it, Connie, think about it! If your kid was over here, would you be sitting on your fat ass over there! We owe it to him! One of his kids is murdered and the other one missing!”

The silence that followed reminded Jack how tired and exasperated he was ... Now I can add rude and thoughtless to the list.

Jack sighed and said, “I’m sorry, CC. I haven’t slept all night. You haven’t met the father. I just did. I feel for the guy. He fits the grandfather image more than a dad. Don’t take it literally about the fat ass comment. It’s just an expression.”

Jack paused, but Connie didn’t reply.

“I mean, you’re in good shape. Buns of steel ...”

Connie laughed out loud and said, “I was just yanking your chain. I know what my ass looks like. I was just wondering if you had ever noticed. I’ll talk to Randy. We’ll think of a suitable reason for you to bring Bien.”

“Appreciate that. Maybe say you want to drive him up and down the kiddie stroll in Vancouver and see if Linh is one of the kids turning tricks for the perverts there.”

“That’ll work. What about the Russians? What are the Vietnamese police going to do?”

“They’re being really cooperative. They appreciate our concern with Linh. They’ll keep gathering evidence, but won’t touch them until we ask. If you get the warrants and find Linh, they’ll grab the Russians over here. Neither of them would ever see the light of day.”

“Better than the twelve or eighteen months they might get here.”

“Right now, I don’t care. Just find Linh.”

“To get the warrants under the guise of prostitution and coordinate with City, it will probably take a day.”

“If you get them signed before Laura and I get back, don’t wait for us.”

“Believe me, we won’t. Talk to ya later.”

When Jack hung up the phone Laura looked at him and said, “That was a good idea you had about matching perverts to construction materials.”

Jack shrugged and said, “Except the list of known pedophiles on the lower mainland, not to mention licence plate data included from those who pick up children on the kiddie stroll, is what, over a thousand? Linh doesn’t have that much time.”

“It’s still a good idea. You really would be good on Homicide.”

“I’m not suited for it. I hate pedophiles and bullies who abuse children. Makes me think of my own father too much. Put me in that section and the murder rate would go up, not down.”

Jack, Laura, and Bien boarded a flight leaving Hanoi at 11:05 that same morning. With the time difference, they were scheduled to arrive in Vancouver forty-five minutes later on the same date. In fact, it was almost twenty-five hours later.

It did not help Jack’s peace of mind when he discovered that Moustache Pete and the Fat Man were on the same flight and flying first class.

So much for Sonny gathering more evidence on them ...

Jack and Laura were still three hours out of Vancouver over the Pacific Ocean when Connie received confirmation that the Vancouver City Police had obtained the search warrants.

She met with teams of police officers who were a combination of both Vancouver City Police and RCMP. The briefing was thorough and everyone assigned knew their duties.

Two VPD plainclothes officers, posing as customers, would be sent inside The Asian Touch massage parlour in Vancouver. Two RCMP officers, also posing as customers, would enter the Orient Pleasure massage parlour in Surrey at the same time.

The job of the insiders was to stop anyone who tried to burn or flush evidence when the raid commenced. They would be given exactly two minutes. Hopefully long enough to gather evidence of prostitution, but a short enough time to hide the fact that they were not going to be customers and that they were carrying weapons and wearing Kevlar vests under their shirts.

Three hours after the search warrants were signed, multiple teams of officers in Vancouver and Surrey waited at their assigned locations at the ready.

Connie gripped the police radio in one hand and watched the seconds tick by on her watch as she sat parked with her partner near Dúc’s house. Eight other officers assigned to her team were parked close by.

“Now! Now!” echoed across police radios and Connie leapt from the car and ran to the front door of Dúc’s house. The sound of splintering wood from the rear told her that other officers had just gained entry ahead of her.

Elsewhere, squads of officers were entering the massage parlours and smashing their way into the homes of the other Tran brothers, as well as two apartments belonging to employees who worked at the parlours.

Hopefully the sounds of splintering wood, breaking glass, and yelling would momentarily shock and paralyze anyone to delay them from grabbing a weapon.

Hopefully, Connie realized. But not always ...

Within a few seconds, all the places being searched were secured and all those found inside had been handcuffed. Connie breathed a sigh of relief. Nobody hurt ...

The initial search being conducted by Connie’s team yielded nothing. Now a more careful search was being conducted. Every room, ceiling panel ... anything new that had been built ... rugs to be looked under for trap doors.

Connie answered her cellphone and discovered it was Jack.

“Just landed and cleared Customs,” he said. “Anything?”

“We’re doing the searches now. Started about fifteen minutes ago. Doesn’t look good. I’m at Dúc’s house. He’s got an attached garage. I’m going to look at it again.”

“Could you use a hand?”

“Got lots of help. No use burdening you.”

“What about the other places?”

“So far they’ve got a bunch of credit card receipts. Also a lot of red-faced guys lying around handcuffed wishing they were wearing pants ... but nothing of real interest.”

Jack sighed and said, “Call me if ... you know. I’m going to the office and then will find a hotel room for Bien.”

“Talk to ya later.”

“There’s one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“The Russians came back on the plane with us.”

“Shit!”

Connie entered Dúc’s garage. It had a cement floor but she noticed some partial sheets of plywood lying on the floor under a work bench. She got down on her hands and knees to take a closer look. The sound of running footsteps approached her from behind.

“Connie!” came the excited voice of a young officer from her team. “Something you should see in the basement!”

“What?” she replied, trying to maintain a professional calm while her pulse quickened.

“A wall with wooden panelling. I knocked on it. Sounds hollow in one place!”

chapter thirty-one

Jack arrived at his office and plunked himself down behind his desk as Laura went to find an extra chair for Bien.

Jack called Natasha at work to let her know he was back. Not home. Just back. He then listened to the messages left on his office phone.

He hung up just as Laura wheeled a chair across the office floor for Bien to sit on. “I took this from Staff Pendejo’s office,” she said. “He’s not around. Probably not back from lunch.” Laura glanced at Jack and raised an eyebrow and asked, “What’s with you?”

“Isaac wants to see me immediately upon our return,” replied Jack.

“What about?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I should have Natasha call and ask. She’s on a first-name basis with him.”

Jack met with Isaac and was asked to give a quick debriefing on what had transpired in Vietnam.

After Jack told him, Isaac nodded and said, “Staff Otto had basically filled me in on the details. How is the father holding up? Does he speak English?”

“Yes, sir. His English is excellent. As far as holding up goes ... he is doing as well as could be expected under the circumstances.”

“I would like to meet with him shortly and assure him personally that we will do everything possible to find Linh and apprehend whoever is responsible,” said Isaac. “Now, however, there is another matter I wish to speak to you about.”

Jack listened as Isaac told him about Quaile’s lack of good judgement in regard to taking a picture of the Russians as they boarded the flight to Costa Rica.

“Lack of good judgement, sir?” seethed Jack. “I would call it obstruction of justice.”

“I can see on the surface how you might feel that way. However, I spoke with him and he explained that they caught him off guard and he reacted in a manner that he hoped they would think a policeman would not do. He was so upset by being seen by them that he was too embarrassed to come forward and admit it earlier. I’m sure he would never make the same mistake again. However, it is also obvious that his judgement in his assessment of you may have been flawed.”

“Flawed, sir?” said Jack sarcastically.

“We all make mistakes, Corporal,” said Isaac flatly. “Perhaps I am making one now, by cancelling your transfer to Traffic Services.”

“You are letting me remain here on Intelligence, sir?”

Isaac nodded and said, “You were correct in your judgement to work on the Russians.”

“I believe that Staff Quaile disagreed strongly with that point of view on my last assessment,” said Jack.

“I appreciate that your last performance rating was less than satisfactory. Far below what you have normally achieved. Staff Quaile and you obviously had a personality conflict. With that in mind ... and considering all the circumstances, I will see to it that a new performance rating is completed by whoever is selected to replace Staff Quaile.”

“To replace Staff Quaile? I appreciate that, sir!”

Isaac frowned and said, “We all have different abilities in different areas. I can see that, perhaps because of your background and experience, you have a more analytical mind when it comes to how organized crime functions. I’m sure that Staff Sergeant Quaile will be well-suited for the administrative position that he is now being transferred to.”

“When is that effective, sir?”

“At the end of the month.”

Jack tried hard to look solemn.

“In the meantime, I would strongly advise you to put your differences behind you. We all have our strengths and weaknesses. The administrative position that he will soon be responsible for is an important one ... that I suspect you would not perform well in.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll keep my interaction with him professional at all times. In fact, to show there are no hard feelings, I have a box I can lend him to pack up his personal belongings.”

Isaac locked eyes with Jack for several seconds before adding, “I will be watching you closely. You step out of line and I will come down on you hard. Understood?”

“I would expect nothing less.”

Jack arrived back at his desk and Laura looked at him and said, “So?”

“In a nutshell, my transfer to Highway Patrol is cancelled. I’m staying on Intelligence. Quaile is being transferred at the end of the month.”

“Are you serious?

“Very.”

“That’s unbelievable,” said Laura, getting to her feet and gripping each of Jack’s hands. “I feel like we’ve just won the lottery. What happened?”

Jack glanced at Bien and replied, “Quaile burned the Russians at the airport before they flew out to Costa Rica. That’s why they were so jumpy.”

“Intentionally?”

“No doubt in my mind.”

“That jerk!” Laura glanced at Bien and said, “I’m sorry.”

Bien didn’t respond and it was obvious that his mind was elsewhere.

“Anything more from CC?” asked Jack.

Laura shook her head.

“I’m going to call her. Isaac wants to meet Bien right away. “Why don’t you take him in and introduce him?”

Connie used her flashlight to knock on the wood panelling. There was no doubt that approximately one metre of the wall sounded hollow along a portion of the wall that one would have expected to be up against the cement walls of the basement.

“Shall I kick it in?” asked the young officer. “There doesn’t appear to be any handle or anything to pull it open.”

“Did you try pushing on it?” asked Connie.

“Pushing? We want to open it, not close it.”

Connie used her hand to push on various locations. She was rewarded by the sound of a metallic click and a portion of the wall opened outwards a crack.

“Magnetic push latch,” said Connie excitedly. “Got the same thing at home on a cabinet,” she added, putting her fingers in the crack and pulling outwards.

The section of the wall opened and Connie unconsciously held her breath.

The area she looked into was a large notch in the cement foundation that was meant to be a roughed-in fireplace. All it contained was a dresser and she swallowed as she tried to hide her disappointment.

The young officer pulled a drawer open. It was packed with money.

Two hours later, Jack, Laura, and Bien met Connie at the I-HIT office. After introductions were made, Randy took Bien into his office to explain some of the steps that had been taken in the investigation. He also had Bien look at mug shots of members of various Asian gangs on the lower mainland.

Randy didn’t expect it would yield anything, but he knew it made Bien feel better to think he was helping.

“Everyone demanded lawyers immediately,” said Connie. “Dúc and Cuóng are in Surrey cells right now. They’re going to be transferred to City lockup within the hour to face a joint indictment of keeping a common bawdy-house. Maximum sentence is two years. I expect everyone will be charged and released tomorrow morning on a promise to appear. Most of the women will be held for now and likely deported.”

“If we can’t keep these guys in jail, at least we can piss them off,” said Jack.

“That’s not all,” said Connie. “Dúc will really be pissed. We found where he keeps his money. It was hidden in his basement. Over a half-million in cash ... and get this. It also included the money you used to buy that kilo off of Giang. Might help if we could ever pin Giang’s murder on him.”

“I’m sure members of his gang were responsible for the actual dirty work,” said Jack. “Still, that’s good. He was trying to hide the paper trail. Proceeds of Crime should be happy.”

“Yeah, them and the taxman both.”

“What about credit receipts?” asked Laura.

“Got boxes of them. Lots with criminal history. Also dumped the phone records. Besides massage parlours, they just started operating as an escort service, too. We’ve got a ton of numbers, most of which are hotels. It’s going to take time.”

“Linh doesn’t have time,” said Jack, quietly. “Do you think anyone twigged as to what we were really after?”

“I don’t know,” said Connie. “I don’t think so. It went out over the media as a low-interest prostitution bust. All the media wanted to know is if there were any judges or politicians caught. They were told not this time. Some may not even bother to run it.”

“So now what do you intend to do?” asked Jack.

Connie shrugged and said, “We can try for a wire, but my guess is we’re better off looking for leads amongst the credit slips and phone numbers. We’ve got a criminal profile. A male, under the age of fifty. May fantasize by looking at pornography or lingerie catalogues and drawing pictures of chains and ropes on the female models. Likely suffering from other mental disorders as well.”

“Not suffering like his victims,” said Jack. “I agree with you about the wiretap. Unlikely anyone would ever open their mouth about it over the phone. But working through mounds of paper in the hope you’ll find the guy? We don’t have time for that bullshit!”

“I know what you’re thinking ... but you so much as glare at a prisoner these days and a judge will rule the statement inadmissible.”

“Why does everyone think I’d torture the guy?” said Jack.

“Wouldn’t you?” asked Connie.

“I actually do have a better idea. It’s even legal. Hard as it is for you to believe that,” he added, looking at Connie.

“I’m all ears ... except for my buns of steel,” replied Connie.

Jack ignored the comment and said, “It would be nice to hear what the Tran brothers have to say when they’re all put together today.”

“These guys have been around. Even if we did have a wire, once we put them in a nice quiet cell to listen, they’d clue in.”

“Not what I had in mind. How about putting someone in the general holding cell at City with them? Do it before Dúc and Cuóng even arrive. Someone who speaks Vietnamese.”

Connie shook her head and said, “Try and find an operator who speaks Vietnamese ... good luck. I know the City has someone who does, but he works the street and is well known.”

“We’ve got someone,” said Jack.

“Yeah? Who?”

Jack pointed at Bien.

“You nuts? He’s the father! We can’t do that! They’re liable to kill him, especially if they find a wire.”

“So we’ll stick some other operator in there for protection. Someone to stay in the background. Bien could gesture when he wants out. I’d do it, but Dúc and Cuóng have both seen me.”

“Christ, we can’t ask him to do that. Besides, the brass would ...”

“Bien will want to help. He speaks their language and definitely doesn’t look like a cop. Put him in for a couple of hours and take him out.”

“The brass would never allow ...”

“The brass have nothing to lose. Linh does, if we don’t find her.”

Connie took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before saying, “They won’t trust him. He’s a stranger.”

“I’ll give him a quick course on UC. I’ve got a story he can give that will make them want to be his friend.”

“That would have to be some story. These guys will be pissed off. We took their money and their girls. They won’t be in the mood for making new friends.”

Jack smiled. The steam had gone out of Connie’s protest. It was no longer about not doing it. It was about how to do it.

“We use that to our advantage,” said Jack. “Bien can say he got off the plane from Hanoi today and was arrested when the hotel taxi-van delivered him from the airport to the hotel lobby. He can say a nice young Vietnamese woman was also on the plane ... and just happened to be going to the same hotel where she got busted for bringing in heroin. All he has to do is wink and say, of course I never met the lady ... and she really doesn’t know me. Dúc will think Bien is a watcher.”

“A watcher?” asked Connie.

“That happens regularly,” explained Laura. “Someone who is on the plane with the mule to make sure they’re not arrested and turned into informants before completing the delivery. The mules often don’t know who is watching them, although the list of possibilities narrows once they leave the airport. Same goes for the police, if they are watching.”

“With Dúc’s background, he’ll know all this,” said Jack. “It will make sense to him. Usually there isn’t enough evidence to charge the watcher ... but making them sit in cells to sweat for a while wouldn’t be unusual. With Dúc having his girls taken away, it will really help.”

“Help? How? He’ll be pissed off!”

“That’s just half the story I’ll get Bien to say,” said Jack.

“Then he will say that a lot of nice young women smuggle drugs into Vancouver. That will really bait the hook. Especially when he implies that the same girl never gets used twice.”

“Perfect!” said Laura.

“It’ll work,” added Jack. “Trust me.”

“Bait the hook?” asked Connie. “Explain this, will ya? I work homicide cases, not dope.”

Laura smiled and said, “Dúc is bound to ask what happens to the women after they make the delivery. When Bien shrugs and says, who cares? Dúc will jump on the opportunity to try and get them for the parlours!”

“Exactly,” said Jack. “They’ll treat Bien like gold—at least they won’t hurt him.”

Connie didn’t reply as she silently ran the scenario through her brain.

“It might be a new angle to try and get to Dúc if everything else fails,” said Laura. “We could later get Bien to introduce a real UC operator to Dúc at a later date.”

“We all know what happened to Hang,” said Jack. “Let’s hope that it is not a later date.”

“Think Bien could keep his cool if they talk about Hang or Linh?” asked Connie.

Jack stared at Connie and said, “If he ever wants to see Linh alive, he’ll have to keep his cool.”

“Hell of a thing to ask a father to do.”

“I know ... but it’s him or nobody.”

Pops’s mouth flopped open and he quickly turned up the dial on his car radio as he drove home from work. The news about the police raids on the massage parlours was brief, but it was enough to tell him that the Trans had been arrested.

He gripped the steering wheel with both hands and looked in the rearview mirror. He found he was holding his breath and exhaled, before subconsciously taking short, shallow breaths.

He took an extra few minutes to drive around his neighbourhood, looking for any sign of the police before slowly heading up his driveway. He watched his rearview mirror closely as he followed the driveway past the side of his house and to the garage attached to the rear. He pushed the automatic garage door release on his sun visor and pulled inside.

He sat in his car for a moment, conscious of his hands still grasping the slippery steering wheel. His armpits felt sticky and damp. He hated being afraid.

The idea that anyone could arrest me for doing what I do in my own house is unbelievable! This is my house! I have the right to do what I want!

Linh heard the passage door open and the sound of Pops grunting with something. His head came into view and he stood up. She saw that he had reeled in a garden hose. He looked at her without speaking and departed, only to reappear a moment later.

This time he had something different in his hand.

Linh shrunk back on her mattress as Pops slowly walked toward her, slapping a baseball bat in his hand with each step.

chapter thirty-two

Bien followed Jack’s instructions carefully. Once he was placed in the holding cell, he went and stood by himself. It didn’t take long for Thao and Húu to approach him and ask what he was in jail for.

Bien carefully gave the story that Jack told him to give. Stopping, as Jack suggested, at the point where he was arrested when he arrived at the hotel. The rest of the story was to be saved for when Dúc arrived.

Thao and Húu were amiable, but eventually started talking about their own problems and explained to Bien that they were businessmen who owned massage parlours. They said they were somehow swept up in a police raid. Evidently, it would appear that some of the girls who worked for them may have been doing something illegal behind their backs.

The sound of the cell door opening caught everyone’s attention.

“Our brother!” exclaimed Thao. “And Cuóng!”

Thao and Húu rushed to meet Dúc and Cuóng as they were placed in the holding cell. Bien quietly walked up behind them.

“They found my money,” said Dúc, angrily in Vietnamese. “Years of work. Now half of it gone!”

Half of it? thought Bien. Important to tell Jack. Important to remember exactly who said what ...

“And the girls ... gone!” yelled Dúc, flicking his fingers for emphasis. He saw Bien and lowered his voice and said, “Who is this?”

Thao took him aside and whispered in his ear while Bien watched nervously. Dúc nodded before approaching Bien and introducing himself.

In the next few minutes, Bien found himself answering a barrage of questions from Dúc about his flight over. Hanoi ... the old quarter. Shops and stores.

Dúc was polite and explained that his curiosity was because he was originally from Hanoi. It would be natural that they would know many of the same places. His memory was also bad, and Bien had to remind him of the names of several streets.

Bien was not fooled. Jack had warned him to expect questions. For Bien, it was easier than he imagined. All he had to do was tell the truth about the city he lived in.

“About your problems now?” asked Dúc.“Do you have a lawyer?”

Bien shook his head. Time now for the second part of Jack’s story. “I don’t need one. I will not be here long. The young woman who was arrested ... she does not know me. I know many young women,” he smiled, “but they do not know me.”

Dúc nodded, but his brain was active. “On a plane ... if you travel often ... perhaps in time they might think they know you?”

Bien forced another smile and said, “It is my understanding that such women are only used once. The police might become suspicious if they fly too often.”

“What do you think would happen to such women after they arrive in Canada?” asked Dúc.

Bien shrugged his shoulders and said, “It is my understanding that they are paid to come here. Once that is finished, who cares?”

Bien saw the gleam come to Dúc’s eyes. “My fellow countryman, we should get to know each other better. My lawyer has told me that my brothers and I will no doubt be released on these nuisance charges tomorrow morning. If you do not have any plans, we could all meet for lunch and celebrate with a more appeasing type of food than is served in here.”

“Perhaps,” said Bien, not knowing if Jack would allow this.

“May I suggest a restaurant called the Sacred Phoenix? It has both Asian and Western food. Say, around one o’clock?”

“I will try to make it. I have many important calls to make, but I will try.”

Thao, Húu, and Cuóng listened patiently to Dúc and Bien as they spoke, but finally Thao could wait no longer. He grabbed Dúc by the arm.

“This situation that we are in ... could it be because of Petya and Styp’?” Thao asked.

“Why would you think that?” asked Dúc.

“Because of the two girls,” replied Thao.

Bien stared intently with his mouth hanging open, afraid his heartbeat would drown out the words he was hearing. Petya ... Styp’ ... it is the names we seek!

“It has nothing to do with them,” said Dúc.“This is just a matter of prostitution. It is the Vancouver police who are behind this. Surrey is only a coincidence. The RCMP is only helping the Vancouver police.”

Surrey? wondered Bien. A third man who was also arrested? Petya, Styp’, and Surrey ... all important names to remember for Jack.

“It was stupid of them,” said Thao. “I still do not understand why they did that. We would have paid them more money if they had let us keep them.”

“Thao is right,” said Húu. “Why did you drive the girls to that place for Peter and Styp’? There is much demand for them in our business. Men pay much money.”

“That is what they wanted,” shrugged Dúc.

Bien looked at the big man watching him from the back of the cell. Peter ... Styp’ ... they have Linh!

Bien scratched his throat and the big man started yelling for the guard, saying he wanted to speak to his lawyer.

The guard arrived and told the big man he would have to wait. Bien was being released first.

Bien was led into an office where Jack, Laura, and Connie waited.

“I have the names,” said Bien excitedly. “Write them down! Quick! The two men who have taken my daughters.”

Connie grabbed her pen and notebook.

“Their names are Petya and Styp’!”

“Shit,” said Connie, putting her pen away.

“There is maybe a third man,” said Bien. “His name is Surrey!” Bien looked at the three forlorn faces looking back at him. “What is wrong? Do you not know these men?”

Jack cleared his throat and said, “Petya, or Peter as it is called in English, is a Russian we have been referring to as Moustache Pete. His partner is Styopa. They are the two men Laura and I followed to Hanoi.”

“They have Linh! Arrest them now! Search their houses!”

“They share an apartment together. It is not a house. They do not have Linh.”

“Then it is the man called Surrey! Do you know him?”

“Surrey is a city near Vancouver. It is where Hang was found. It is not a person.” Jack saw the tears fill Bien’s eyes. “Tell us what you heard,” he asked softly.

“Thao spoke with Dúc when he arrived. He asked him if they might be in jail because of Peter and Styp’ over the two girls. I am sure it is Hang and Linh they talk about!”

“Please ... tell us the rest,” said Jack.

“Dúc said it had nothing to do with them. He said it is only because of prostitution. He said the Vancouver police are behind it. He said Surrey is only a coincidence.”

“Did he say what kind of coincidence?” asked Connie.

“No. Thao said it was stupid of Peter and Styp’. He said he did not understand why they did that. He said they would have paid them more money for my daughters.”

“He said they were sisters?” asked Jack.

“No ... he said girls ... but I know he is talking about my daughters. Then Húu asked Dúc why he drove the girls to that place for Peter and Styp’. Dúc said it was because that is what they wanted.”

“What place?” asked Connie.

“Now I do not know,” cried Bien. “I believed he meant to one of the homes of the three names I told you.”

“Take it easy,” said Jack. “What you have done has helped us.”

“I did not do this right!” shouted Bien. “I should have asked questions!”

“No,” replied Jack. “I told you not to ask any questions. That would be very, very dangerous for Linh.”

Bien grabbed Jack’s sleeve and said, “But now we know that Dúc and those two Russians know where they are. You can find them easy now.” His eyes flashed and he added, “I would like to be there when they talk!”

Jack closed his eyes while briefly massaging his temple with one hand.

“What is it, Jack?” asked Bien. “Why are you still sitting here? Linh is in great danger!”

“It is not that easy,” explained Connie. “We know that they do not have Linh. If we question them about it, then they will tell whoever has her to kill her and hide her body.”

“You do not ask them politely!” yelled Bien. “You are the police! You make them talk! Do not let them talk to anyone until Linh is safe. You must act now!”

“I’m sorry, Bien,” said Connie. “It does not work that way in Canada.”

Jack looked at Bien and thought, I’m sorry, buddy, there was a day I would have glady beaten the information out of them. I just can’t. Please understand, I have someone I love in my life now. I have to do the right thing.

“It has to work that way!” said Bien. “It is my daughter’s life! She is a child!”

Jack looked at Bien and sighed. Why do I feel so much shame and hate myself if what I am doing is the right thing? “Bien ... no,” said Jack. “You said that Húu told Dúc that he should not have driven the girls to that place.”

“Yes, that is right.”

“‘That place’ ... does not mean that Linh is still there. It could have been a temporary drop-off place. Neither Dúc nor the Russians may know exactly where she is. Even if they were made to confess ... they may not know where Linh is now. Whoever has Linh might hear about it and kill her.”

“Then what will you do?” asked Bien.

“You have given us a good lead,” said Jack. “We can now focus our attention on Dúc and the two Russians.”

“It sounds like whoever has her is known to both Dúc and the Russians,” said Connie. “We have phone records. I will work on it tonight with many investigators. If there is a common denominator, we will find out.”

“Is there anything else they said?” asked Laura.

“There is only one more thing,” said Bien, bitterly. “Dúc mentioned that you only found half his money.”

Connie glanced at Jack and Laura and said, “I’ve already got Proceeds of Crime looking at his financial transactions.”

Jack nodded and looked at Bien and asked, “Did you tell Dúc about using lots of different girls to smuggle heroin?”

“Yes, I told him,” replied Bien. “He did not ... what do you call it? Steal the bait.”

“Bien, believe me,” said Jack. “We will find her. You’ve got my word on that.”

Bien nodded as he silently committed one other piece of information to memory.

The Sacred Phoenix at one o’clock.

chapter thirty-three

Linh tried to ignore the sound of the bat slapping against Pops’s hand as she got to her feet. Until now, she had remained defiant ... angry at the man she knew had killed her sister.

Pops had been wickedly controlling. A slice of bread ... perhaps allowing her to temporarily have an article of clothing to lord his power over her. But he had not caused any physically lasting pain. With the exception of her fighting with him and being slapped and punched when he first chained her up and tore off her clothes, she had not yet suffered much physical torture.

There were times when he would urinate on her, but he seemed to take more joy with marking an X on the calendar each day, while verbally tormenting her about the box that was out of her reach and what she might expect on the red-circle day.

Linh had refused to show any interest in the calendar or the box ... at least when Pops was in the room.

Tonight, something is different about his face. He does not look as evil—he looks ... afraid! The bat ... the hose ... because I do not play his game, he is going to kill me!

“Please, Mister Pops,” said Linh, pointing at the calendar. “I must know. Tomorrow is the first red-circle day. Please tell me! What is in that box?”

Pops stopped and stood staring at her. He was panting, as if he had just been using the exercise equipment that Linh had seen in the basement when she first arrived.

“Mister Pops! I must know. Don’t make me wait. Please ... tell me now.”

Pops turned to look at the calendar and looked at Linh and smiled. “It is your first red-circle day tomorrow,” he said.

Abruptly he stepped forward again, raising the bat menacingly over her head and she stepped back.

“No!” Pops shouted. “I will not tell you now! You will wait until tomorrow.” He lowered the bat and, almost as an afterthought, he said, “It is Saturday tomorrow. When I come home from work I will be off for the next two days. I think it will be best if I give you all the surprises during that time.”

Linh watched as Pops leaned the bat up against the box and placed another X on the calendar. He stared at her intently before gathering up the hose and disappearing back out the passageway.

It was eleven o’clock at night when Natasha heard Jack arrive and the noise of his suitcase landing on the tiled floor at the front door. She was ready for bed, but he had called so she waited, watching the The National on CBC.

“Let me guess, don’t tell me your name,” said Natasha teasingly, before kissing him warmly on his lips. She stepped back and looked at him again. “I’m not sure ... maybe if I use a little more passion.” She kissed him again, taking her time and running the end of her tongue around his lips before stepping back.

“Now do you remember who I am?” asked Jack.

“I’ve certainly narrowed it down to a short list.”

“Really? How many names are on that short list?”

“Unfortunately, quite a few. Do you have any distinguishing marks or scars to jog my memory?”

“I can’t remember. Maybe if you allowed me a moment to take my coat off and undress we could find out.”

Natasha smiled and hugged him again. “I missed you. I’m so glad you’re back. Travelling to all these exotic places ... with another woman, I might add.”

“Speaking of Laura, you didn’t happen to buy her a certain bottle of perfume, did you? As a bon voyage present?”

Natasha furrowed her eyebrows and said, “No, I never ... ah, ha! Your allergies.”

“I did get you a little something,” said Jack, handing her a large plastic bag.

Natasha peered inside the bag. “A conical hat!” she laughed, quickly trying it on. “What do you think? Perfect for the rain we’re getting this time of year.”

“Looks adorable, but the outfit isn’t complete. There’s more. I just have to unpack it.”

Natasha followed Jack into the bedroom and watched him unpack.

“You must be exhausted,” she said.

“Managed to catch a couple of winks on the plane, but not much.”

“How did everything go? Earlier, when we talked, you said you were putting the father into jail with them.”

“Partly successful,” said Jack. “He learned that the two Russians and one of the Tran brothers likely know where Linh is, but that is all. Homicide will work through the night on it. Laura and I are meeting with them in the morning.”

“These guys are monsters,” said Natasha. “They should be ...”

“I know,” said Jack. “Let’s not talk about that now.”

“Sorry.” Natasha changed the subject and said, “I bet you’re glad that Jacob recanted your transfer.”

Jack paused and grinned. “Yeah, Jacob to you. God to me.”

Jack found the package wrapped in soft tissue paper and handed it to Natasha. She tore it open and saw the silk gown.

“Traditional Vietnamese gown,” said Jack. “I hope it fits.”

“It’s beautiful!” said Natasha. “Thank you,” she added, kissing him on the cheek. “Give me a minute in the bathroom to try it on. You finish unpacking.”

Minutes later, Natasha decided that the outfit looked really good on her. It was tailored to fit the curves of her body perfectly. She leaned into the mirror and re-did her makeup, before lightly tossing her hair with her hands.

“What do you think?” she asked, walking into the bedroom and giving a wave of her arms to show off her new outfit.

Jack didn’t respond. He was sprawled across the bed, sound asleep.

Connie glanced at her watch when she saw Jack and Laura walk up to her desk. It was eight o’clock in the morning. She stifled a yawn before asking, “What did you do with Bien?”

“We told him we’d meet him today for lunch. How did you make out?”

“Nada. Nothing. Most everyone in our office has been up all night and we don’t have a thing to show for it.”

“No third party connection?” asked Laura.

“Not a fucking one,” said Connie, angrily. She looked at Jack and said, “So now what the hell do we do? They’ll all be released in a couple of hours and we still don’t have a clue as to where she is.”

“At least now we know that Dúc and the Russians probably have a good idea as to who has her,” said Jack.

“So what?” said Connie. “After yesterday, they’ll all be too paranoid to go anywhere near where Linh is. Besides, they have no reason to. It’s not like we have a clue. If we do risk putting surveillance on them and they spot it—you both know what will happen.”

“You’re tired,” said Jack. “You’ve been up all day and all night.”

“Christ,” said Connie, dismissing Jack’s comment with a wave of her hand. “I even considered telling Dúc that the charges might go away and his money might reappear if he had something of value to give us.”

“They would figure that out pretty quick,” said Jack. “You’d be signing Linh’s death warrant. Not to mention that Dúc is involved with this. He has his own ass to protect.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Go home, get some sleep,” said Jack. “It’s easier to think of a game plan when you’ve had a little shut-eye.”

“Yeah? Well you just had some. Do you have a game plan?”

“So you don’t have any surveillance planned on Dúc or the Russians?” asked Jack.

Oh, man ... I don’t like the sounds of this, decided Laura.

“No,” said Connie. “Like I said, we don’t dare chance it.”

“I agree completely. Just wanted to make sure.”

Connie glanced at her watch and said, “Damn it, I’m already late to talk to Isaac. He wants to be debriefed personally on this twice a day. So what are you two going to do?”

“Look for a new informant,” said Jack. “Maybe some way to get in through the back door.”

“Yeah, well ... good luck.”

Laura waited until they were in the car and looked at Jack and said, “I heard you in there.”

“Heard me what?”

“You’re pleased that they’re not being followed. I know you, it’s more than just not tipping them off. What’s up? What’s this about getting a new informant?”

“Two of them,” said Jack. “Moustache Pete and the Fat Man.”

“You can’t be serious. They’ll never turn! You ask them anything and Linh will end up in another Dumpster.”

“We won’t ask them anything. All we have to do is get them to tell us.”

“What, some kind of UC? The Trans didn’t take the bait with Bien.”

“A UC, but we keep Bien out of this.”

“How? You got an angle to get in with the Russians?”

“Yes.”

“Even if we do gain their trust ... I doubt that they would ever talk about it. Or if they do, they’re smart enough not to give away any details that would let us locate her.”

“That depends upon our approach,” replied Jack, giving a grim smile. “I think I figured out something from what Bien told us last night. The part about the Trans wondering why the Russians didn’t sell them the girls for more money.”

“I remember.”

“So why didn’t they?”

Laura paused and watched as a group of school children walked across the road in front of them. She glanced at Jack and said, “I don’t know. Maybe doing someone a favour.”

“These guys deal in human flesh ... children,” said Jack, gesturing to the group crossing the road. “They don’t do any favours unless there is something in it for them.”

“Such as?”

“Remember what we heard in Cuba when they were waiting to meet with the Arabs at that restaurant? The comment about an insurance policy?”

“Vaguely.”

“They talked about the incident at the airport and how they had to be careful.”

“Quaile.”

“No doubt. Then Fat Man made a comment saying that is why they carry insurance. He said that with the police, insurance is always good.”

“I don’t get it.”

“I think that is the reason they sold off the girls for less money. They want a pervert to have them. I think they know where Linh is, or at least know how to find out.”

“The girls are their insurance policy!”

Jack nodded. “If either of them gets taken down with anything serious, they’re going to use the girls as their insurance policy to walk away.”

“That ... that is so sick.”

“I know.”

“We don’t have enough evidence to nail them for smuggling. As far as the courts would allow, all we have is mere association with the people we do have evidence on.”

“I know, but ...”

“A UC will take time to gain their trust.”

“Who said anything about gaining their trust? That is definitely not part of the UC I have in mind.”

“So I take it there was a reason why you didn’t mention this plan to Connie?”

“I wouldn’t recommend you tell anyone about it.”

Laura sighed. “Okay ... how, where and when?”

“How ... is we kidnap them. Where ... is outside their apartment building. When ... is right now.”

Oh, man ...

chapter thirty-four

Jack and Laura drove over to the Russians’ apartment building and parked where they could watch the front entrance.

“Curtains are still pulled,” said Laura, as she scanned the penthouse suite with binoculars. “Still sleeping.”

“We’ll wait. I’d better call Bien and tell him we can’t make lunch.”

Or dinner either, if we end up in jail, thought Laura.

Jack used his cellphone and called Bien’s hotel. The switchboard put the call through and Bien answered the call on the first ring.

“Bien, it’s Jack, I take it I didn’t wake—”

“Any news?” asked Bien. “Connie ... did she find something?”

Jack grimaced and said, “I’m sorry, she didn’t find anything concrete yet.” He heard Bien’s forlorn sigh and continued, “But there are plenty of leads to follow. Laura and I are working on something now. That is why I’m calling. We won’t have time to meet you today for lunch ... I don’t know about supper.”

“That is okay,” replied Bien sadly. “I wasn’t able to sleep last night. All I can do is think about ....” Bien stopped and said, “I have a bad headache. I will try to sleep or maybe go for a walk. If you have news, please call me. Otherwise I will call you when I have rested.”

“Bien ... hang in there. Laura and I are working on this. We are doing everything possible.”

Not everything, Bien thought, as he hung up the phone.

The hours ticked by slowly for Jack and Laura as they waited in anticipation of what they were about to do.

At one o’clock, Laura sighed and said, “The blinds are still closed.”

Jack glanced upwards and nodded to indicate he heard, but his mind was brooding elsewhere. Today, two more men may go free for allowing children to be sexually exploited, abused ... and in this case, murdered. Free ... just like you, Douglas Henry.

Jack tried to wipe the image of his father from his mind, but it seemed the harder he tried, the more the image persisted. Funny, I don’t even want to say he’s my father ... even in my thoughts I prefer to use his first and middle name ... but he is my father. Even worse, I’m a policeman and still can’t arrest him without someone willing to come forward. Victims ... remaining silent ... allowing the continued exploitation of other children. How many would have been saved if only one had the courage to come forward earlier and put a stop to it?

“What about going up there and just hauling them out?” suggested Laura, interrupting his anguished thoughts.

Jack shook his head and said, “They’ve got video in the lobby. If this goes sideways ...” Jack decided not to end that sentence. It wasn’t necessary to dwell on that possibility. The image of his father returned. How many died like my sister Bonnie? Or did some prefer the needle over the bottle?

Douglas Henry ... you are able to spend your final days in perverted pleasure, knowing you are still able to inflict pain and anger on your own son—I wish there was life after death and a hell waiting for you ...

Jack felt relieved when Laura once again interrupted his thoughts. “What if it does go as planned,” she asked. “Then what happens to us?”

“Saving Linh is more important.”

“I wasn’t meaning that we shouldn’t. It’s just that with you ....” she glared at Jack and added, “never mind.”

“With me what?” asked Jack, as he took his turn with the binoculars.

“The ideas you come up with.”

“You don’t like this idea?” he asked, while refocusing the binoculars. “You’d rather yank out their fingernails?” Even for you, Douglas Henry, I would not do that. You are like a rabid dog. You should be destroyed—without feeling. Feeling anger would only make you happy.

“No, torture is not an option I would use,” said Laura. “Although I have to admit, the idea has occurred to me, only I’d remove another part of their bodies.”

“Sometimes I fantasize, too ... about a lot of people.”

“You’re a man, I bet you do. Telling Connie she has buns of steel. Do you undress all women with your eyes?”

Jack smiled, despite how he felt. “I prefer to use my fingers—”

“Jerk.”

“And there is just one woman I save that for.”

“Oh.”

“Trust me, Connie has never entered my fantasies. Besides, that is not what I meant when I asked you what you meant about my idea.”

“It’s good. That’s why I asked. What if this does work? Do you have a story to explain it all to everyone else? One that would keep us employed? Not that it matters, if we find Linh alive, it will be worth it.”

“Hadn’t really thought that far ahead yet. But—the blinds have just opened!” said Jack, passing the binoculars back to Laura.

Bien stepped through the doorway into the Sacred Phoenix and looked around the restaurant. He was immediately hailed by Dúc.

“I’m glad you made it,” said Dúc, while gesturing for his two brothers to make room while Cuóng hurried to obtain another chair.

Bien nodded and said, “So is it true? Is the food better here than ... our last hotel?”

Dúc laughed and said, “That hotel was truly a nuisance. The room service was totally inadequate. As you can see, we were all released—I should say, vacated, from that hotel this morning. I have been told by my lawyer that it is unlikely that I will ever have to return to that hotel, although the bill for it will be expensive. And you, my friend? How does it go? You still look upset. Will you have to return to that hotel?”

“I was not charged with any crime—but I am very tired,” said Bien truthfully. “I did not sleep last night.”

“Perhaps with a better meal in your stomach and some wine, it will help you to relax. Today, it will be my treat.”

It was three o’clock before Moustache Pete and the Fat Man walked out the front entrance of their apartment building and sauntered down the sidewalk. They each carried telescopic umbrellas, but kept them closed. The darkening clouds were only threatening at the moment and the Fat Man held his umbrella by the cord on the handle and swirled it in an arc as he walked.

Moustache Pete was the first to notice the dark car pull up to the curb a short distance ahead of them—and the attractive woman who stepped out from the passenger seat as they approached.

The man driving the car also got out and walked toward the rear of the car just as Moustache Pete and the Fat Man were about to walk past.

“Police!” the woman yelled, while pointing a pistol at Moustache Pete’s face. “Don’t move!”

Moustache Pete and the Fat Man’s mouths gaped open and they saw the flash of a badge in her other hand.

“Both of you, put your hands up!” yelled the man behind them.

Moustache Pete and the Fat Man both turned to see a second gun being pointed at them. They put their hands up and Moustache Pete asked, “What is this about? What have we done?”

“You fit the description perfectly,” said the woman, “of two men who clubbed and robbed a man in an alley just two blocks from here.”

“It wasn’t us,” said Moustache Pete, glancing at the Fat Man, who let out a big sigh and began to smile.

“Gee, I’ve never heard that before,” replied the woman, sarcastically. “Put your hands on the roof of the car and back your feet away. You’re going in for a lineup.”

Within seconds, Moustache Pete and the Fat Man found themselves handcuffed with their hands behind their back and placed in the back seat.

“You will see that it is not us,” said Moustache Pete as the man buckled their seat belts across their laps. “How long will this lineup take?”

“Shut the fuck up, Petya Globenko,” the man hissed. “I don’t want to hear a word from you ... ever.”

Moustache Pete’s eyes opened wide and his mouth hung open.

“You know who we are?” asked the Fat Man in astonishment.

“Same goes for you, Styopa Ghukov,” the man snarled. “You’re finished. We know all about you.” He handed the woman the keys and said, “You drive. I’ll watch these bastards.”

Moustache Pete and the Fat Man exchanged nervous glances. There was no denying the rage in the man’s eyes.

This is somehow personal to him, Moustache Pete realized. I am sure we have never met ... He looked at the woman’s face in the rearview mirror and fell back in his seat as she peeled away from the curb. He glanced back at the man beside her. The man sat sideways in the seat watching them.

When they stopped at the next set of traffic lights, the woman leaned across and kissed the man on the cheek and the nape of his neck. “You did it,” she said softly. “I love you.”

“Told you I would, babe,” he replied. “A little pre-wedding gift for you,” he added with a grim smile. “What did you think when I said, put your hands up! Did I sound like a real cop? I always wanted to say that.”

The woman chortled and said, “You did sound like one. Doesn’t CSIS teach you how to arrest people?”

Moustache Pete and the Fat Man quickly exchanged a few words in Russian and Moustache Pete looked at the man and said, “You are with the Canadian Security Intelligence Service!”

“Ah,” the man said, looking at the woman and adding, “Our two Ivans in the back seat are cluing in.” He glanced at them and said, “Just for your info, my fiancée is a police officer.”

“But you are not,” said Moustache Pete. “What is this about? Where are you taking us?” he demanded.

“Relax, Ivan. You would have been arrested by my office tomorrow morning anyway. I’m just doing it a day early.”

“Arrested for what? We have done nothing wrong.”

“No, not yet. But we know that you were about to.”

“My brother!” yelled the woman, her eyes burning with anger as she looked in the rearview mirror. “You sons of bitches! He was in the World Trade Center when it collapsed. He was the only family member I had left!”

“I don’t understand!” yelped The Fat Man.

“The Trade Center?” asked Moustache Pete. “We had nothing to do with that. You have made a mistake. We are retired schoolteachers. You have arrested the wrong men.”

“Maybe you had nothing to do with the Trade Center,” she said, “but your friends did.”

“Our friends?” asked Moustache Pete.

“Only this time you’ve got something far more murderous up your sleeves,” said the woman.

“If I were you,” said the man, raising his hand and wagging his index finger to emphasis the point, “I would just sit quietly. If you want to talk, I suggest you do it later tonight when you arrive in Guantanamo Bay.”

“Guantanamo!” exclaimed both men from the back seat.

“Yeah, I don’t really believe in the extradition process. My buddies in the CIA feel the same way.”

“You cannot do this!” said Moustache Pete. “I wish to call the Russian embassy. It is my right.”

The man shook his head and said, “My friends down south have assured me that you will speak to nobody again ... not even each other, for as long as you live.” He gave a sinister grin and added, “Except for their interrogators, of course. I think they will make you say plenty.”

“You will stop the car immediately,” said the Fat Man. “We have the right to call the Russian embassy,” he demanded.

“You ignorant, dumb bastards,” said the man. “Who do you think it was, Styopa, who told us about your degree in microbiology? Or your degree in history, Petya? How you did not teach at all—except at military institutions.”

Moustache Pete and the Fat Man glanced at each other in surprise.

“Believe me,” the man continued. “Russia’s only interest in you now is to ensure that you do end up in the hands of the Americans. The war on terrorism has united many countries. Russia, Cuba—countries who used to be enemies ... have now united.”

The man glanced at the woman and added, “Except for fucking Vietnam. They’re still too hung up on past conflicts to cooperate on anything. I can just imagine how many more terrorists we would have discovered if they had cooperated.” He turned to the men in the back and said, “We do know you went there as well.”

“Your own people at CSIS, they will find out if you carry out this ... this plan,” said Moustache Pete.

The man sneered and said, “My people will be told that you became paranoid over that incident at the Vancouver airport. Remember? Where you had your picture taken just before you went to Costa Rica. You have talked of it. The CIA will say that you spotted CSIS agents following you in Canada and decided to flee to the U.S. where you were arrested.”

“That was you?” asked the Fat Man. “You took our photograph at the Vancouver airport?”

“No, that was a Russian attaché. They said it was an accidental blunder, but we know better. You were an embarrassment to them. They hoped to prevent you from meeting with the al-Qaeda operative that you later met in Cuba.”

“Al-Qaeda?” said both captives in unison.

“Mother Russia believed they could scare you into returning to Russia so that they could arrest you. Now that we know you met with al-Qaeda in Cuba and plan to attack the States, Russia is more than happy to let the Americans have you.” The man looked at the woman and said, “I wonder which would be worse? Russian or American interrogation? Probably the same.”

“You’re still lucky,” said the woman harshly, while glancing in the rearview mirror. “You’ll both get to spend the rest of your lives in Cuba—which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for my brother. Personally I hope you die of the heat ... while the rats nibble at your toes.”

Bien finished his steak sandwich and took another sip from the glass of red wine. Dúc raised a bottle to refill his glass, but Bien put his hand over the top and shook his head.

“What is wrong, my friend?” asked Dúc.“You do not like wine? In over two hours you have only had two glasses! Perhaps I should have ordered you a Huda?”

“No, the wine is good,” said Bien, but I am tired and should return to my hotel.”

Dúc nodded and said, “First, there is something I would like to speak to you about. A business proposition. One that could be lucrative for the both of us.”

Bien raised his eyebrows in response.

“About the women you ... see ... who fly to Vancouver with packages,” added Dúc. “I have an idea.”

Bien looked looked sharply at Dúc and said, “I think that such a discussion should only take place between you and I. Are you able to give me a ride back to my hotel room?”

Dúc smiled and said, “You are absolutely correct, this is no place to discuss issues of a sensitive nature. Let me finish my wine and then I will drive you to your hotel.”

Later, Bien slipped a steak knife into his jacket pocket.

chapter thirty-five

Laura glanced at the highway sign indicating the way to the U.S. border and caught Jack’s eye. He turned in the seat and said, “Hey, you Russkies! See that,” he said, pointing to the sign. “One hour and you will be the most welcome guest of the US government.”

“This is a terrible, terrible mistake,” Moustache Pete said. “I do not understand why you would think that we are—”

“Shut up!” yelled Laura. “One more peep out of either of you and I’ll pull off in some farmer’s field and shoot the both of you!”

Jack glanced back at the Russians before looking at Laura. “Honey, I love you, but please settle down,” he said, affectionately squeezing her shoulder as she drove. “For my purposes, it would not hurt if these men decided to cooperate now and give us the names of other al-Qaeda agents that they are involved with.”

“Let the Americans talk to them,” she said. “I don’t need to hear them yap.”

“They could have information valuable to Canada,” Jack replied. “Other lives could be at stake here.” He looked at the Russians and said, “I know you will tell everything eventually. It is inevitable,” he shrugged.

Laura shook her head silently and stared ahead in anger.

Jack eyeballed Moustache Pete and said, “How about it? With your military background, surely you know that, in time, you will be broken. The longer it takes, the more painful it will be. Why not make it easier on yourselves? You have no people to ever rescue you ... or even a country to go to.”

“You are wrong,” said Moustache Pete. “We are not terrorists. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

“You are foolish not to cooperate,” said Jack, “unless of course, you are a masochist and enjoy pain. The two Arabs you met at the Al Medina restaurant in Havana? Well, one of them has been under watch for years. He is very high up in al-Qaeda. A financer, I am told. As you have now probably figured out, he is only allowed to operate so that we can identify people such as yourselves. Do you deny meeting him there?”

“No, I do not deny that, but—”

“Your interest in navigational charts ....” Jack said, letting out a laugh before continuing, “You really are poorly trained. I was even in the West Marine store with you a little while ago when you were asking about Seattle and inquiring about navigational charts for Puget Sound. You should remember my face. Believe me, the Americans were not amused by that.”

Moustache Pete tipped his head back, briefly closing his eyes while shaking his head.

“Vietnam is the only country that refuses to cooperate. Tell us who you met there, it might go well for you. You were in the military. You know what is in store for you if you do not cooperate.”

The tears rolled down Fat Man’s chubby cheeks as he pleaded, “We are not terrorists ... please.” He looked at his friend and spoke rapidly in Russian, but stopped when Jack leaned over and backhanded him across the face.

“Either speak English or shut the fuck up!” Jack yelled.

“Sir,” said Moustache Pete. “Believe me when I tell you that I did not know that the gentlemen we met in Havana were—”

“Gentlemen!” yelled Laura. “You call cowardly killers gentlemen!” She glanced at Jack and said, “That’s it, I’m looking for a place to pull over. The other side of the tunnel ... past Deas Island ... there’s some bush along River Road.”

“It was simply a figure of speech,” said Moustache Pete quickly. “Personally, I did not care for either one of them.”

“Yeah, right,” Laura replied.

“You are a police officer,” pleaded Moustache Pete, before taking a sideways glance at the Fat Man. “We have some information that is very valuable to the police. You can check it out. We are smugglers ... not terrorists. If you let us explain—just stop and talk to us for fifteen minutes ... we can prove it.”

“They’re looking for a chance to escape,” said Laura, speeding up. “Watch ’em.”

“We are handcuffed!” cried Moustache Pete. “We can’t escape. You are a police officer ... you may even know of the crime that we wish to tell you about.”

“What? Somebody importing vodka illegally?” said Jack, contemptuously.

“No! Someone ... a little girl ... she is in great danger,” said Moustache Pete. “Promise to let us go and we will tell you how to find her. It will save her life.”

Laura lowered her head so that her eyes could not be seen in the rearview mirror and stared ahead without speaking.

Moustache Pete turned to Jack, but he had turned his back to him and also sat quietly staring out over the hood of the car.

Please,” said Moustache Pete. “Do not treat what I say with indifference. I am not lying. This little girl ... we have heard that she had a sister who was murdered by the same man. If it is not true, then you can give us to the Americans. But you will see that it is true. Please ...”

Jack and Laura discovered that they were now at the most difficult part of their charade. Something they hadn’t expected just happened.

They knew that if seen, the tears in their eyes might give everything away.

“I hate this time of year,” said Dúc, starting the engine as Bien got in the car beside him. “It is barely four o’clock and it is getting dark already,” he said, while turning on the windshield wipers.

“I have something I want you to look at,” said Bien, handing Dúc a folded piece of paper.

“What is it?” asked Dúc.

“Look ... and you will understand.”

Dúc unfolded the paper and looked. He gasped when he looked at the black and white photograph of Hang holding Linh’s hand. His hands shook as he turned to look at Bien, but froze when he felt the serrated blade of the knife slice a jagged line under his chin, before stopping with the point pressing into this throat.

“These are my daughters!” yelled Bien. “Look at them! Look closely at their beautiful faces! Look at how old they are! Look at their eyes—so full of life!”

Dúc looked down at the photograph as droplets of blood from his chin dripped onto the picture. He was still in shock when Bien repositioned the knife so that the tip was directed upwards under the bottom side of his rib cage.

Pops had just arrived home from work and was hanging his jacket in the closet when he heard the knock at his back door. He hesitated, but heard Dúc’s voice and opened the door.

Dúc’s wide eyes and pasty-white face stared up at him. Another Vietnamese man stood behind him. Why is Dúc clutching his throat? Blood is seeping through his fingers!

Pops moved to close the door but he was too late. Bien propelled Dúc forward, smashing him against the door and stepping inside the foyer behind him.

“My daughter!” yelled Bien. “Take me to her now or I will slash his throat and yours right after!”

“Your daughter?” Pops replied.

“Linh!” yelled Bien. “Linh!” he yelled again.

“She cannot hear you,” said Dúc, nervously. “I told you, he has a room in the basement. I am sure she is okay,” he added, looking nervously at Pops for confirmation.

“Take me to her, or I will kill you now and find her myself!” said Bien.

Pops stepped back and said, “Okay, okay.” He pointed to the stairs leading to the basement and said, “She’s down there.”

“No,” said Bien. “First ... Dúc, you hold the back of his shirt as he walks. I will hold you. If you let go of him, you will die first!”

Pops slowly led the way into the basement and opened the hidden door.

“Linh!” yelled Bien. Her screams and the sound of her sobs answered in a hysterical response.

“See? She’s in there, waiting for you,” said Pops. “Go and see her,” he said, gesturing to the passageway entrance.

Bien started crying, but shook his head. “You go first,” he said.

The sound of Linh crying and screaming now howled out of the passageway like a megaphone.

“I didn’t hear you,” said Pops. “Go to her. She needs you!”

“No!” screamed Bien. “You go first!” he yelled so there could be no doubt that Pops heard him.

Pops nodded and Bien watched as he struggled through the opening.

Bien clung on to Dúc and shoved him through the passageway ahead of him.

Seconds later, Bien’s mouth dropped open in shock at the sight of his naked daughter standing in chains.

He was more horrified to see a pistol in Pops’s hand with the end of the barrel stuck in Linh’s ear.

“You have a choice now,” said Pops, calmly. “You can put the knife down or hold it and watch me shoot your daughter ... and then you. Although I must admit, I may do it in the reverse order.”

“No! You put the gun down or I will kill Dúc,” replied Bien, quickly putting the knife back to Dúc’s throat.

Pops started laughing and said, “I was going to kill him anyway for bringing you here. Please ... go ahead. You can kill him now and I will not even try and stop you. I would consider it a favour.”

Bien jerked his arm, as if he were going to cut Dúc’s throat. Dúc cried out in fear and Bien saw the disappointment flash across Pops’s face at the ruse.

“Okay,” sighed Pops. “I’ll tell you what I am going to do. I am sure that someone probably knows that you came here with Ducky Boy. If I stay, I know that it is just a matter of time before I am found. Put the knife down and let Dúc chain you up at the other end of the room. Do that and I will not hurt you or your daughter. Dúc and I will leave and when we are safe, we will call someone so that you are found—if you have not been found already.”

Bien looked at Linh, who shook her head before yelling at him in Vietnamese, telling him to escape fast.

Bien knew that he could not do that—no more than he could get to Pops before his daughter was killed.

Pops smiled when Bien threw his knife down on the floor.

“Chain him up,” ordered Pops, “then bring me the key.”

Dúc led Bien over to the far side of the room and picked up the length of chain. A padlock with a key in it hung from one of the links in the chain. He fastened the chain tightly around Bien’s ankle, nervously approached Pops, and handed him the key.

“What’s wrong?” asked Pops. He chuckled and added, “You didn’t really believe that I meant to harm you, did you?”

Dúc didn’t reply.

“I meant to fool him,” said Pops, gesturing toward Bien with the barrel of his pistol. “It worked. I didn’t think you would believe it!” he chortled, patting Dúc on the back.

Dúc smiled nervously.

“Do you think anyone knows he is here?” asked Pops.

Dúc shook his head.

“I didn’t think so,” replied Pops. “How is your neck? Do you need stitches?” he asked, sounding concerned.

“It is not deep,” said Dúc.“I think it has stopped bleeding, but it is painful.”

Pops nodded and said, “I think we should extract a certain amount of revenge on this man for what he has done to you. Don’t you agree?”

Dúc was no longer afraid and his face showed his anger as he turned and looked at Bien. “Yes. Very much so.”

Pops smiled and said, “Good. I think you will find this amusing.” He walked over and ordered Bien to lie on his back on the floor in front of him. Bien hesitated and Pops said, “If you do not want your daughter hurt, you will obey me completely!”

Bien did as ordered. He closed his eyes but his mind could not block out his daughter’s crying as Pops urinated on his face.

“Okay, you pathetic excuse for a father—a father who would allow his own daughters to be sold and raped! Get on your knees and look at me!”

Bien did as instructed.

“Take one last look at your daughter. I wonder what will happen to her?”

“Please, Mister Pops,” begged Bien. “You must be a man of your word. You promised not to hurt us. Please! I will not tell anyone. All I want is to go back to my own country.”

Pops said, “Really? Oh, okay,” he said, turning away, but laughed and spun around and said, “It is time for you to say goodbye to your daughter. Is there anything you wish to say to her?”

Bien looked up as Pops stepped back a short distance before aiming the pistol at his face. His mouth opened to yell to Linh that he loved her as his mind reeled with what he could possibly say to make Pops change his mind.

“Too late,” said Pops. He smiled and said, “Pop,” and squeezed the trigger.

A bright red dot instantly appeared on Bien’s forehead and the blood ran down the side of his nose as he slumped sideways onto the floor.

chapter thirty-six

Laura found a bush-filled entrance to a farmer’s field, pulled in, and parked the car. The fear on the Russians’ faces showed that they were now acutely aware of their new surroundings.

Fat Man was sweating profusely and his lips had taken on a bluish hue. He looked at Jack and gasped, “Please ... my chest ... the pain, it has gone to my neck, shoulder ... arm. I think I am having ...” He stopped talking and started panting heavily.

Don’t die on me now, you fat bastard!

Jack saw the concern flicker across Laura’s face. Not now, Laura! You’re supposed to act like you want them dead!

Laura looked at Jack and said, “I think he’s—”

“Yeah!” said Jack loudly, interrupting her. “Fat Man looks like he is about to have a heart attack. Good! One less cell needed at Guantanamo.” Jack’s voice returned to a normal level and he added, “He probably wouldn’t survive the interrogations anyway. As long as Petya here is healthy, who cares?”

Laura momentarily turned away from the Russians. Oh, man—

“Cut to the chase,” said Jack. “What is this nonsense about two girls?”

Moustache Pete’s eyes betrayed his fear as they flickered between the Fat Man and Jack. “The business we are in,” said Moustache Pete quickly, “it is only importing women to work in hotels. Illegal as far as immigration goes, but nothing to do with terrorism.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Jack. “What does the hotel business have to do with Puget Sound and meeting with al-Qaeda?”

“I did not know the Arab was connected to al-Qaeda. He told us he wanted some young women to work in a hotel. Our interest in navigational charts was purely a matter of interest as to where we could bring people in.”

“So this Arab killed some girl?”

“No! Not him. Someone who lives here, in Vancouver. We heard, through a business associate here, that he sold two young girls to a monster of a man who killed one of the girls and is holding the other girl in chains. They are sisters. One of them, her body has recently been found by the police.”

“I would have heard of it,” said Laura.

“No, my mistake,” muttered Moustache Pete. “It is not Vancouver police. It is the RCMP in Surrey. Please check, you will see that I am telling the truth.”

“This story,” said Jack, “it will not take us long to find out the truth. If you are lying, it will go very hard on you.”

“We are not lying. If we prove this, will you let us go?”

“Of course I would, if it was true. It would still take time to sort things out. I won’t be able to stop my office from arresting you, but you’ll have about a fourteen-hour head start.”

“We would still be arrested?”

“I can’t guarantee anything that the Americans would ... or would not do. You know how they operate. The secret prisons they have all over the world. Still, if you are telling the truth, you would not be detained forever.” He pointed his finger at the Fat Man and added, “So you, fat boy, if you are lying to us, you may as well continue with your heart attack. If you’re not lying ... then relax, because I will let you go.”

“We are not lying,” panted the Fat Man.

“Then you have nothing to fear from the two of us,” said Jack. “I can assure you that I will let you go tonight. You might want to take the opportunity to try and find a place to hide until your story is checked out by my friends down south. Although hiding may prove difficult. The Americans have most of the holiday spots on the globe well covered.”

“We are telling you the truth,” said Moustache Pete.

Jack glanced at his watch and looked at Laura and said, “I never did confirm with my friends waiting at the border that we picked them up. We can delay for a little while. I can’t see why these two would make up such an absurd story. They’re cuffed and can’t escape. If they’re lying, I’ll definitely make sure that their interrogators are told about it. It would cost them dearly, they must know that.”

“Yes, we would not lie about such a thing,” said Moustache Pete. “It will be easy for you to discover we are telling the truth. This place, where the monster lives, it is even close to the border.”

“We don’t have anything to lose,” said Jack, looking at Laura. “Let’s just sit quietly for a moment and let me figure out all the angles. If they are being truthful, I will let them go.”

A few minutes passed and the natural colour returned to Fat Man’s face and his breathing became normal. Laura caught the slight nod of Jack’s head and she resumed her role. “Come on,” she said, looking at Jack. “Let’s drive them to the border. This is bull.”

The Fat Man gasped.

Jack held up his hand as if to stop Laura from talking and looked at Moustache Pete and asked, “What is the name of your alleged business associate?”

“Dúc,” he replied immediately. “He owns a massage parlour in Surrey called the Orient Pleasure. He has two brothers. They own another massage parlour in Vancouver called The Asian Touch.”

“I have heard of that place,” said Laura. “We busted it yesterday.”

“See!” said Moustache Pete, giving a worried look at the Fat Man who was beginning to take shallow breaths again. “We are telling the truth.”

“Yeah, right,” said Laura. “It was in the news. You probably read about it.”

“No! I did not—well, I did, but that has nothing to do with the two young sisters. Call the police in Surrey. You will see.”

“Why don’t you do it, sweetie?” said Jack. “What if he is telling the truth?”

“Yeah, I guess that won’t hurt,” she grumbled, getting out of the car.

The men watched intently as Laura got out and walked around the car with her cellphone at her ear. She got back inside and said, “A girl’s body was found. Unidentified. There is nothing about any sister.”

“That is her,” said Moustache Pete. “She is Vietnamese, right?”

“I was told Asian,” said Laura.

“See? I am right. The police do not know about the sister, but I do.”

Laura glanced at Jack and said, “Maybe they are telling the truth. Could your office be wrong about these guys?”

“CSIS ... make a mistake? I can’t see that happening. If we did, it was because of something the Americans told us.” Jack saw the glare that Laura gave him. Sorry ... getting into my role too much ...

Jack pretended to cough and said, “There is no doubt about the Arab they met. He was confirmed by multiple independent sources—”

“Not about the Arabs, about these two? You told me you had two bona fide terrorists here!”

“Well,” Jack paused, “the investigation is still continuing, but their contacts and affiliation with the Arab was confirmed. This could still be a delay tactic,” he said, glancing suspiciously at the men in the back seat. “Perhaps trying to put us off while the police run around playing footsy with this Dúc character. Maybe trying to find some house with a kidnapped girl that may not even exist.”

“No, it does exist!” said Moustache Pete.

Laura glared at him.“I suppose you are going to tell us that we just have to go ask Dúc and he’ll tell us where she is,” said Laura.

“I know the house,” said Moustache Pete. “We were there once and waited in the car while Dúc went inside.”

“What’s the address,” Jack snapped at him. “Quick!”

“I ... I do not know.”

“It’s all bull,” said Laura.

“No. It is no bull,” replied Moustache Pete. “I know it to see it, but I just don’t know the address.”

“How do we get to it?” asked Jack.

“You keep driving toward the border on Highway 99, but you take the last exit. It is 8th Avenue. You turn right. From there, I can take you to the house.”

“What street is it on?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know. If you drive, I will recognize it.”

Twenty minutes later, Laura turned on 8th Avenue as directed.

“Go straight,” said Moustache Pete, “but slow down—I need to look.”

Moments later he argued briefly with Fat Man before speaking English and saying, “Yes, turn right here.”

“It’s on this street?” asked Laura.

“No, farther yet. Keep driving. I remember it is on the side of a hill.”

“We’re in White Rock,” commented Laura.

“Please ... keep driving. I think you turn here.”

Jack felt the tension in his body increase with every turn the car made. He realized he was holding his breath and wiped the sweat off the palms of his hands on his pants.

“No, this is wrong,” said Moustache Pete. “Go back. Maybe it was the next street ....”

Jack glanced at Laura and saw that her body was rigid and the frustration was evident in her face as she slammed on the brakes to turn around.

Bien felt stunned as he blinked his eyes. He felt the painful mark on his forehead as Pops and Dúc roared with laughter.

He looked up at Pops who pointed the CO_2 pistol at him again and said, “Pop,” before firing another pellet. Bien cringed and felt the pellet ricochet off the side of his head.

“You shouldn’t flinch,” yelled Pops. “That is how Hang lost her eye!”

Bien screamed out in rage and leapt forward, clawing at the air like a madman as Pops stepped back out of reach.

“How ferocious,” said Pops, “I should take you to a taxidermist after and have you stuffed. You would look good standing near my fireplace.” He smiled and said, “Maybe now you know why I am called Pops!” Again he said, “Pop,” and fired another pellet, striking Bien on the back of his hand as he covered his face.

Bien cringed but he lowered his hands as he heard Pops moving away.

Pops tossed the pistol into a box and looked at Bien and said, “You are fortunate that you arrived today.” He pointed at a calendar and said, “It is a red-circle day. A day of surprises for Linh. Actually,” he said, glancing at Dúc, “a day of surprises for all of us.”

“Please,” begged Bien.

Pops waved his hand, gesturing for Bien to be silent.

“Unfortunately,” continued Pops, “because of your arrival, all her surprises will be today. You will watch. If you do not watch ...,” Pops gestured to the steak knife on the floor, “I will start by cutting off your daughter’s ears ... then other parts of her body.”

Bien watched in horror and revulsion as Pops slowly took off his clothes, flexing his muscles as he did so.

Dúc stood with his back to the wall, watching intently.

“Please, sir, please don’t,” begged Bien.

“Keep asking politely,” said Pops. “If you ask enough, maybe you will convince me to stop. But if I see you looking away—if you even blink, I will toss you one piece of your daughter each time.”

Linh screamed as Pops grabbed her. He shook her by the arm and said, “And you, my little fighter. You will do everything I say or I will cut your father to pieces before your eyes!”

chapter thirty-seven

“That’s it!” said Moustache Pete, gesturing with his head toward a house that Laura was driving past. “The place with the hedge and the driveway that goes to the rear.”

“You are certain?” asked Jack. “The place we are driving past now—the house in darkness?”

“Yes,” both men said from the back seat.

“Maybe he’s not home from work yet,” suggested Laura.

“Maybe,” replied Jack. “Turn around and park a few houses down on the opposite side. Time for you and me to have a private talk.”

Moments later, Jack and Laura stood outside the car. “Now what?” she asked.

“I’d like to scoop a licence plate or something. Figure out who really lives here. With what this guy has done, if it’s him, he’ll definitely have a history.”

“Like setting pets on fire when he was a kid,” said Laura with disgust.

“If that is the case,” continued Jack, “I’ll call Connie and she can send in the troops and we’ll sit back with these two. If it’s confirmed, we’ll let them go as promised.”

“How do you explain that we found this place?” asked Laura, gesturing with her thumb at the two Russians. “If anyone finds out what we did with these two, we’re finished. Not to mention that a judge will probably rule that we put the administration of justice into disrepute and toss the evidence.”

“As far as I’m concerned, these two fine gentlemen in the back of the car are our informants. There is no need to get into how they were ... cultivated.”

Laura nodded. “And as informants, we keep their identity secret.”

“It’s not like I expect them to stay once we release them anyway. They’ll be running for the airport.”

Laura looked toward the house and said, “Do you think they’re telling the truth?”

Jack looked up at the night sky as the full moon momentarily shone through a break in the clouds. That’s eerie ...

He glanced at Laura and said, “Yeah, I think they’re telling the truth. Looks like the driveway might lead to a garage out back. I’m going to grab my flashlight and picks out of the trunk.”

“You’re not going inside the—”

“No. I’ll check the mailbox, if there is one, and then the garage for a plate. If I’m lucky, the garage will have a window. If it doesn’t, or I can’t see in, I’ll pick the lock if there’s no alarm system.”

Laura opened the trunk and Jack reached for his briefcase, removing a penlight flashlight and a small leather case from it and put them in his pocket. He looked at her and said, “If there aren’t any cars, I’ll come back and we’ll wait here. Tap the horn twice if a car arrives and I’ll take off through the back. I’ll have my phone, but I’m shutting it off.”

“Good luck.”

Jack casually sauntered down the sidewalk while glancing at neighbouring houses. The ones with lights on made it easy to see that nobody was looking out. He turned into the driveway and walked toward the house. He could see a slot in the front door for mail. So much for that idea ...

He followed the driveway to the rear and peeked around the corner at the back of the house. The back porch light was on, as well as a light from inside the kitchen. Another light shone out from the ground behind some bushes close to his feet. It came from a sunken window well and he tried to peer inside, but blinds blocked his view.

The garage extended out on the far side of the back door. The overhead garage door faced him, but he could not see the far side of the garage or the rear, where he hoped to find a window to look in—or a door where he could pick the lock unobserved.

He quickly surveyed the situation. The light from the porch did not extend to the back fence, where an ample supply of bushes would provide cover.

He crept back from the house and slowly made his way across the backyard, crouching to keep his silhouette even with the bushes around him. He was at the midpoint in the yard when he realized that the back door to the house was wide open. His pulse quickened as he quickly knelt beside a shrub.

Bushes rustled close to him and his body tensed before realizing that it was just the wind. Slowly, he turned his head and scanned the backyard again. The house backed onto a lane, but the only access was a small gate beside a wooden structure that held garbage cans. He did not see anyone and waited. With the wind picking up, and the hint of more rain to come, it did not make sense that someone would leave the back door of a house open for long.

Moments later, a car drove slowly down the lane behind him. He held his breath as the headlights flickered past the cracks between the board fence behind him, hoping that the headlights would not reveal his silhouette to anyone who might look out from the house.

Without warning, the small gate to the lane smashed back against the fence.

Jack instinctively reached for the butt of his 9 mm that stuck from the holster on the back of his hip. He waited, unaware that his mouth was open as his body went into survival mode ... acutely listening for any sound of danger.

The gate smashed a second time and Jack realized it too, had been left open and was simply at the mercy of the wind.

He took out his phone and used his jacket to shield the light as he jabbed the numbers. The sound of the wind covered the tone that each number emitted as he dialled.

Laura took the call on her cell.

“It’s me,” whispered Jack. “I’m hiding in the backyard behind some bushes—the back door to the house is open ... but I don’t see anyone around. Lights on in the kitchen and basement. I’m going to wait a few minutes. A gate to the lane was also left open. Maybe the owner popped over to the neighbour’s place or something. Would be just my luck to have him come back as I’m leaving.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Just hang tough where you are, this might take awhile. If a car comes, lay on the horn a couple of times and I’ll leave through the back gate.”

“Got it.”

“I’m shutting my phone off. See ya later.”

The longer Jack waited, the more his curiosity got to him. What the hell, I’m not a cat ...

He got to his feet and crept toward the gate in the lane and quietly slid the bolt to latch it shut. A hole cut into the wood would still allow a hand to reach through and open it, but he hoped the noise would alert him first.

He stood erect and walked straight toward the back door. If someone comes out I’ll say I was walking past in the lane—noticed the door was left open and was coming to close it like a good Samaritan.

As he neared, he saw a smear on the door. Muddy hand print ... He stepped closer, his eyes looking past the door and into the foyer behind. A couple steps up to the kitchen—more steps leading down to the basement.

He took another look at the door. That’s not mud! He looked at the bloody handprint and glanced down at the linoleum floor. Bright red drops of blood leading to the basement stairs—not even congealed yet!

The muffled sound of a girl’s scream came up the basement staircase.

Jack jerked his pistol from the holster and raced inside.

chapter thirty-eight

Laura accepted the next call on her cellphone and recognized her husband’s voice.

“What are you up to?” Elvis asked. “Want me to put dinner on the stove?”

“Oh, hello,” said Laura, as she sat sideways in the seat, watching the two Russians, who were listening closely to her conversation. “Yes, I’m just out with that good-lookin’ fiancé of mine. We’re shopping.”

“I see,” replied Elvis, who was not unaccustomed to the coded phone conversations he had with his wife when she was working undercover. “Bad time to chat?”

“That sounds nice,” replied Laura. “Tomorrow night would be fine for dinner.”

“Maybe I’ll call Natasha and see if she wants to join me for dinner tonight,” Elvis chuckled. “I bet she’s available.”

Laura smiled and hung up.

Jack ran down the basement stairs while fumbling to turn on his phone. The first room he entered contained weight-lifting equipment and he followed the sound of a man’s laughter and a girl crying to the next room.

He saw a small panelled door that was partially open in the wall and quickly pushed the redial button on his phone.

Busy signal! Not now, Laura!

Another scream caused him to yank open the passage door and crouch down to enter. The sound of the man’s laughter abruptly stopped and Jack knew he had been heard. His finger tightened on the trigger and he pointed his gun in front of him as he scrambled through.

The first thing Jack saw was a naked man staring at him. The man’s arm muscles bulged as he gripped a naked young girl by her hair. The girl had a length of chain wrapped around her ankle.

Jack started to rise out of the passageway and screamed, “Police! Don’t—”

A flicker of movement out of the corner of Jack’s eye caused him to lurch to one side, but he wasn’t fast enough. His wrist went numb instantly and his gun clamoured to the floor.

Dúc!

Jack ducked as a second swing of the bat breezed through the hair on the top of his head.

Jack stared at Dúc’s face and saw Bien chained to the floor in the background.

“You!” shouted Dúc.“I know you!” he snarled. His eyebrows furled over his eyes in a look of hate and he stepped forward, swinging the bat with both hands as Jack leaped farther back.

“Behind you!” shouted Bien. “Pops!”

Jack turned and placed a side kick at Pops’s naked midriff, causing him to let out a loud grunt and stumble back. Dúc reached for the gun on the floor, but Jack stepped forward to kick him in the face. Dúc saw it coming and stepped back, putting both hands back on the bat and raising it over his head.

Jack raised his left arm to try to block Dúc’s forearms, while pulling his right fist back to deliver a blow.

Bien’s second cry of warning coincided with a vicelike grip as Pops wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist, lifting him off the floor.

Jack gasped for air as he felt the muscular arms tighten under his rib cage. He instinctively used the heel of his shoe to kick back and scraped down the front of Pops’s shin.

“Get his gun!” yelled Pops.

Dúc stepped forward to pick it up but Jack gave a well-aimed kick and sent the gun flying through the passageway. Jack writhed and twisted his body. He knew that he could not free himself before Dúc reached the gun.

By the smile that appeared on Dúc’s face, he knew it, too.

“Okay, you got me,” said Jack, letting his body go limp. Pops lowered Jack’s feet to the floor but did not relent on the pressure around his waist.

“Hurry up,” said Pops. “Get his gun.”

Dúc bent to go out the door and Jack yelled, “Hey, duck face!”

Dúc looked up just as Jack spit on his face.

An unintelligible sound emitted from Dúc’s throat and he immediately stepped forward and cocked his arm to punch Jack in the face.

“No! Get his—”

Pops’s words were drowned out by Dúc’s vomit-sounding wretch as Jack kicked him in the groin, partially lifting him off the floor.

A gurgling rumble continued to emit from Dúc’s throat and he doubled over in pain. Jack grabbed Dúc by his hair, jerking his head upright, while simultaneously landing a karate chop to the back of his neck with his other hand.

Dúc’s neck broke the first time, but Jack still managed to whip his victim’s head back and deliver a second blow before Pops managed to twist him away.

“Get up!” screamed Pops. “Get up!” he yelled, before realizing that Dúc would never move again.

Jack reached behind his head with both hands in an attempt to grip Pops’s head and gouge out his eyes with his thumbs, but discovered that the numbness had gone from his wrist and the sharp pain that replaced it told him that Dúc’s swing with the bat had broken a bone.

Pops spun around fast, bashing the side of Jack’s head against the wall, before crashing to the floor on top of him and delivering a violent punch to Jack’s midriff.

The air exploded out of Jack’s mouth like a burst balloon. For a few seconds he was helpless as he lay sprawled on his back, trying to gulp in air as Pops sat on top of him.

Jack was only partially aware of Linh’s scream as she crashed to the floor when Pops yanked on the chain. Seconds later he felt a loop of chain around his neck.

Jack tried to claw at Pops’s face with his good hand, but Pops leaned back and positioned his knee, pressing Jack’s arm to the floor before putting a hand on Jack’s forehead, pushing his head to the floor while sitting upright and yanking on the chain around Jack’s neck with his other hand.

Linh screamed and came flailing at Pops with both hands. He dropped the chain and punched her in the temple. She fell in a dazed clump to the floor.

Pops picked up the chain again, yanking it tighter around Jack’s throat.

Jack felt the darkness swooning in on him. His struggle was becoming weaker.

Their eyes met and Pops smiled down at him, before leaning back and reefing harder on the chain while Jack’s legs kicked involuntarily as his body craved for air.

Pops position now gave Jack a little more movement with his good hand.

Got ya!

Laura answered her cellphone again.

“I could use some help,” yelled Jack. “I found Linh.”

“You what? Where? Is she okay?”

“Yeah, but I’m not. Get in here! Leave the guys in the car and go around back of the house. The door’s open. Just follow the noise!”

“What noise?” asked Laura, while stepping out of the car onto the quiet street.

“It sounds like this,” said Jack.

Laura heard a long, high-pitched scream over her phone and Jack said, “It’s the sound of a guy getting his nuts crushed. Want to hear it again? Listen ...”

Moments later, Laura saw Jack’s gun and picked it up as she scrambled through the passageway door with a gun in each hand.

“Who are you? Two-gun gringo?” asked Jack, as she entered the room.

Laura saw a naked man on his hands and knees as Jack knelt beside him with one hand clenching the man’s scrotum. In front of her, Dúc lay motionless on the floor while Bien and Linh, both with chains on their ankles, clung to each other in the middle of the room.

“Bien? What ... Jack? What is going on?” asked Laura.

Jack wrenched his hand tightly, leaving Pops screaming and writhing on the floor behind him, before walking over to retrieve his gun from Laura.

Jack pointed his gun at Pops, as Laura bent over to look at Dúc.

“I broke his neck,” said Jack, with a nod of his head toward Dúc. “He’s either dead or paralyzed. He’s not talking so ...”

Laura put her fingers on Dúc’s neck. After a couple of seconds she shook her head and said, “He won’t be talking again. Mind telling me what the heck just happened?”

Jack quickly told Laura what had happened.

Laura pointed at Dúc and said, “They didn’t teach that at the Academy.”

“No,” said Jack. “That was extracurricular. Bush Survival 101.”

“Bush Survival?”

“Learned how to wring a duck’s neck,” said Jack, before turning to Bien, who was holding Linh. She was sobbing in his arms. “How is she doing? That was quite a punch.”

“She says she is okay,” sobbed Bien.

“Mind telling us how you got to be here?” Jack asked.

Bien used his hand to wipe the tears from his face. In short, halting sentences, he told them of the invitation he had received to the restaurant and what led up to him finding Linh.

Bien pointed at Pops’s clothes piled on the floor and said, “The key to the padlock on my ankle is in his pants.

Jack glanced at Laura and said, “Do you mind? My wrist hurts ... and maybe Pops will think I can’t shoot with my other hand and try to escape.”

Pops glared up at Jack from where he lay on the floor.

Laura holstered her gun and quickly freed Bien. She tried to open Linh’s padlock but the key did not fit.

“Where is it?” demanded Laura, pointing an angry finger at Pops. “The key! Where is it?”

“Fuck you,” replied Pops.

“I’ll cover him,” Jack whispered to Laura. “Go back to the car and take the cuffs off the Russians. Kick them out and tell them they’ve got twenty minutes to get out of the area. That should give them enough time to find a payphone and call a cab.” He gave a nod of his head toward Pops and said, “Once he’s cuffed, I’ll pick the lock on Linh’s ankle.”

“That sounds good except for one thing,” said Laura, “and I’ll take care of that right now!” She looked at Bien and said, “Take Linh and move to the far side of the room.”

As Bien and Linh complied, Laura walked over to Pops and said, “Get up on your hands and knees! Now!”

Pops slowly obeyed.

“Crawl,” ordered Laura. “Hands and knees only. Go over to the other side of the room.”

“Fuck you.”

Jack hid a smile when Laura placed the barrel of her gun between his buttocks and cocked the hammer back.

“You see him, eh, Jack?” she said. “He tried to grab my gun and escape.”

Pops quickly crawled across the floor to the chain that had held Bien moments before.

“Now,” Laura demanded. “Put that chain on your own ankle. Tight! Then padlock it!”

Pops did as ordered before glaring up at her.

“So how does it feel?” asked Laura. “You better get used to it. You’ll be spending the rest of your life in a cell.”

“Fuck you.”

“You pathetic piece of drivel,” said Laura. “You don’t even have the brains to form a proper sentence.”

“Fuck you!” yelled Pops again in rage.

Laura looked at Jack and said, “I’ll go get the cuffs out of the car. If you’re up to it, I think you are probably safe to take a crack at the padlock while I’m gone.”

“I’m up to it. It’s my wrist that’s broken, not my fingers. Hang on a second,” said Jack, as he walked over to a large box in the corner. He looked in the box and saw some box cutters, pliers, a CO_2 pistol, candles, matches, an electric cattle prod, and an assortment of girls’ clothing. That son of a bitch! I want to kill him so bad ...

Laura also looked inside. “Oh, man,” she muttered. “I better get the cuffs. If I stay here, I will shoot him.”

Jack reached in and pulled out a jacket to give to Linh. “Hurry back, we’ve got some things to discuss.”

Bien weakly pointed at the jacket and started to cry while Linh buried her face in his neck. Laura paused and glanced at Pops, who was now smiling. She hurried to the car.

Moments later, Laura returned, dangling a set of handcuffs in front of her. “It’s done,” she said. “I left yours in the glove box.”

“Our terrorists?” whispered Jack.

“Took off on the run. How you making out?”

“Doing okay,” said Jack, as the lock sprung open and he helped Linh to remove the chain from her ankle. When she was free, she immediately turned to wrap her arms around Bien’s neck once more as he kneeled beside her.

“Cuff him,” said Jack. “I’ll cover.”

Laura ordered Pops to lay face down on the floor while she cuffed him with his hands behind his back. She was about to use the key to release the padlock and take the chain off his ankle when Jack said, “That can wait a minute. Come here, we should talk about some things first.”

Jack and Laura stood by the passage door and turned their backs so they could talk in private.

“We’ve got to get Linh to a hospital,” whispered Jack.

“While you were getting the cuffs, Bien spoke with her. She says she wasn’t sexually abused, but even if she wasn’t, she’s still traumatized.”

“So let’s call an ambulance and bring in the troops.”

“For sure, but now there is no need to make up our informant story. Let’s just say that we did follow Dúc and he led us here. We’ll say we didn’t realize Bien was with him until—”

“No!” screamed Pops in a high-pitched voice.

Jack spun around and saw Bien running toward Pops with a knife in his hand.

“Bien, no!” yelled Jack, as he leaped, tackling Bien around the legs and sending him crashing to the floor.

By the sound of Pops’s anguished squeal, Jack knew that he was too late as he grabbed Bien by the back of his shirt and flung him off.

Pops looked up from the floor, his eyes wide with fright as he lay on his side.

“He stabbed me!” Pops said, as his eyes became fixated on the knife handle protruding from the side of his chest—and the deep, dark-coloured pool of blood spilling out onto the floor.

Jack saw that Laura had grabbed Bien, dragging him backwards as she restrained him from behind, wrapping one of her arms around his throat, while using her other hand to bend his wrist up high behind his back.

Linh cried loudly, ran up and tried to pull Laura off.

“Pull it out,” pleaded Pops.

“Not a good idea,” said Jack. “Lie still.”

Jack spun around, grabbing Bien by the front of his shirt.

“Why?” Jack demanded.

“If you were a father, you would know why,” retorted Bien.

“You are still a father!” sputtered Jack. “You’ve got Linh to take care of! Who will look after her now?”

Bien stared dumbfounded down at his daughter. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor sobbing as Linh hugged him.

Laura let him go and reached for her cellphone, but Jack put his hand on her arm and said, “What are you doing?”

“Calling an ambulance.”

“They’ll never make it in time,” whispered Jack. “Look at the colour of that blood,” he said, pointing to Pops. “It’s in his liver. He’ll be dead before he ever makes it to the hospital.”

Laura stared at Pops before looking back at Jack and whispering, “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying if you do that, Bien will be arrested for murder and Linh will end up in an orphanage in Vietnam. Is that what you want?”

“You know I don’t.”

“Call the ambulance, you fuckers!” gasped Pops. “What are you waiting for?” he asked, before clenching his teeth in pain.

“We don’t really have a choice,” whispered Laura.

“Yeah ... we do. I’m sick of going by the book. Sick of hating myself.”

Oh, man. The old Jack is back ...

chapter thirty-nine

Laura quickly helped Linh find all her clothes in the box while Jack spoke quietly with Bien. She didn’t need to ask if Bien was willing to go along with Jack’s plan. Bien’s nodding of his head and the warm embrace he gave Jack was answer enough.

Jack approached Laura and said, “He says he is certain that Linh can do it. She’s a little girl who is very traumatized. Nobody would dare push her too much at this point.”

“Hope you’re right,” said Laura, before telling Bien to take Linh out to the adjoining room to get dressed. She watched them leave before checking the chain on Pops’s ankle and taking his handcuffs off.

“Thank you,” said Pops. “The chain?”

“That stays on,” said Jack.

Laura walked to the passageway and turned to take one last look around the room.

It was a memory that would haunt her forever. A place where the walls and floor had been covered in red enamel paint. A colour she knew, that was picked for a reason. The drain on the floor completed the look.

She gazed at the dirty and blood-stained foam mattress beside a toilet that had the lid held on by two steel bands. Briefly, Laura wondered if Pops was afraid his captives might use the toilet tank lid as a weapon.

A large calendar on the wall with splashes of red circles caught her eye. Beneath it, a box of horror. It wasn’t a prison cell, she decided. It was an abattoir.

She looked at Jack and gave a silent nod, before wiping off the key to the padlock and dropping it in the box.

Jack followed Laura out through the passageway.

“Where are you going?” cried Pops. “You can’t leave me in here!”

“I’ll be right back,” said Jack.

At the back entrance, Jack went up into the kitchen while Laura took Bien and Linh to the car. She placed them in the back seat and got in the front and waited.

Jack found a tea towel, left the house, and went out into the lane. A minute later, he returned to the basement and scrambled back through the passageway.

“You called an ambulance ... right?” asked Pops.

“No,” replied Jack, carefully picking candles up out of the box by their wicks.

“You have to hurry! I might die!”

“I’m surprised you haven’t died already,” said Jack calmly, as he walked around the room and set the candles down in various locations.

“You can’t do this! You will call an ambulance right now!” Pops demanded harshly.

Jack looked at him blandly and said, “The illusion of power and control ... right to the end. I know about that. I was born into that element. I figured that by now you—”

“No,” cried Pops. “Please ... don’t torment me like this.”

“Ah ... now it comes. That’s more the tone I expected. The bully reveals the insecure coward that he really is.”

“Don’t,” Pops said weakly.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t torture me like this. I’m scared—look ... I’ve wet myself.”

“So you have,” observed Jack.

“You see? You’ve won! Please ... call the ambulance now.”

“Won? I haven’t won anything! This isn’t a game. It isn’t my intention to torture you.”

“Good,” gasped Pops. “You’ll call now, right?”

“Wrong. You are like a rabid dog. I take no delight in destroying a rabid dog any more than I would wish a dog to be rabid. I am simply doing it because it is the right thing to do.”

“You can’t! You’ll go to jail for this. For the rest of your life!”

“A chance I’m willing to take.”

Jack dropped the last candle on the floor close to Pops. They both watched as it rolled to a stop.

Pops looked up. He had a look of bewilderment in his eyes, which increased more so when Jack picked Dúc up off the floor and dropped his body on top of the candle near Pops.

“What are you doing?” asked Pops.

“You can hold his hand and take him with you when you die,” replied Jack.

Pops went to speak, but winced, grabbing his side while watching Jack light the four other candles he had placed. Their meaning became clear when Jack disconnected the propane heater and turned the propane tank on.

“Turn it off!” sputtered Pops.

Jack turned off the lights and briefly watched the flicker of the candles before ducking down to leave.

The sound of the hiss from the escaping gas permeated the entire room.

“Take me to the hospital,” pleaded Pops.

“I’m sending you someplace else,” replied Jack. “Say hello to my father for me, when he joins you.”

Jack got in the car and Laura started it up, drove to the end of the block, and parked. Everyone sat in silence and a minute slowly ticked by.

The sound of a muffled explosion and the shattering of basement windows caused Laura to glance in the rearview mirror.

She looked at Jack, who remained staring straight ahead. “Jack?”

“Take Linh to a suitable payphone,” he said, without turning his head.

chapter forty

Connie was back at her office working when she answered the telephone from Jack.

“What are you doing?” he asked, cheerily.

“We’re going to pull another all-nighter,” replied Connie. “Going to keep working until we find this bastard. You sound happy?”

“Got some fantastic news. Linh is okay!”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“She escaped. Laura and I are with her and Bien at Surrey Memorial right now. She’s traumatized, but is going to be okay.”

“Jesus Christ! Jack! How—” Connie started crying and couldn’t finish her sentence.

“She was locked in some dungeon in a basement someplace by a man she only knew as Pops. Tonight some other man came in with Pops and they started fighting. She used the opportunity to escape. I guess the poor kid ran for blocks before she calmed down enough. Later she got some money off a guy and used it to call home in Hanoi.”

“Who gave her money?”

“Some good Samaritan. She was crying and said she was lost and wanted to call her father. The guy probably didn’t realize where her father lived. He gave her some money and walked away. Linh called and her grandmother answered and gave her the number to Bien’s hotel. He called me and Laura and I grabbed Bien on the way and we picked her up.”

“Jesus! You should have called me as soon as Bien told you.”

“I would have, except Bien said she was really freaked out. He was afraid she would take off if anyone else showed up. He told her to hide in some bushes and not move until he got there personally.”

“I’m on my way over,” said Connie. “We have to get to this phone booth. I’ll call the Dog Master.”

“Laura will meet you at the main entrance. I’ve got something to do.”

“What? Where are you going?”

“I’ll be here, but I’m a little banged up. I broke my wrist.”

Warning bells sounded in Connie’s head. “Jack?”

“It’s embarrassing. I was standing on a chair on my balcony cleaning the leaves out of my rain gutter when I took the call from Bien. I was so bloody excited I took a tumble. I’m going in now to get a cast put on. They said I’ll need to wear it for six weeks.”

An hour passed before medical staff was able to find the time to put a cast on Jack. It covered most of his forearm and the lower half of his hand. He immediately went to the nursing station and found out that Linh had been examined.

He was told that there was no indication of any sexual abuse or serious physical injuries, apart from some bruising around her ankle. She was being given a sedative and was going to be held overnight for observation.

Jack was about to head to her room when he heard Laura talking to Connie as they approached the nursing station. He discreetly zipped up his jacket and flipped his collar up to cover the scrapes on his neck.

“Oh ... did you just get here?” he asked as he turned around and feigned surprise.

“Been here and back,” said Connie. “Laura took me to the phone booth. The dog lost the scent. How’s she doing? I need to talk to her.”

“No sexual penetration and no serious physical injuries, but she’s severely traumatized. I don’t think you should talk to her yet. I was just about to head out of here. Maybe you should talk to her in the morning.”

Connie frowned at Jack. “This can’t wait. Any clue she could give would help. The bastard who did this knows she escaped. He’s liable to do the same.”

Connie followed Jack and Laura down the hall and entered a room that Linh shared with three other patients.

Connie saw Bien sitting on the edge of the bed. He was smiling and talking in Vietnamese to Linh as he stroked her hair. Connie did not know any words of Vietnamese, but by the tone, Linh did not sound severely traumatized.

Her suspicions were confirmed when Linh looked up and said, “Hi, Jack! Hi, Laura!”

Bien looked at Connie and she saw the mark on the centre of his forehead.

“How is she?” asked Connie.

Bien’s face immediately became sombre and his command of the English language seemed to dissipate. “Very scared. No talk to police now.”

“That’s too bad,” replied Connie, softly. She gave a fake smile, before her face abruptly turned to business. “What happened to your forehead?” she demanded.

“I fall on bushes.”

“There seems to be a lot of clumsiness going on around here tonight,” she said, glancing at Jack.

“Pretty wet and slippery out,” Jack offered.

Connie smiled at Linh and moved closer and held her hand. “Hi,” she said. “My name is Connie.”

Linh glanced at Jack and looked at Connie and wrinkled her face, before turning her head away and starting to cry.

“She feels more comfortable with us,” said Jack. “Why don’t you leave and Laura and I will talk to her.”

“That isn’t going to happen,” said Connie. “I want to talk to her alone ... now!”

“Why? She’s a child. Someone has to—”

“I’ll allow her father to stay,” said Connie. “You and Laura ... out!”

Connie waited until Jack and Laura left the room before using her cellphone to call her partner.

“Get back to that pay phone. I want it dusted and get the coins done as well. Also get the tolls and times for any calls made from it tonight.”

“What’s up?” her partner asked.

“I’ll explain later. There’s a gas station across the street. See if they have any security cameras!”

Over the next half hour, Linh slowly divulged bits and pieces of what she knew from the time she left Vietnam. At times, she trembled as she recalled certain details of her captivity and her fear of the unknown, the impending red-circle day that Pops taunted her with. She cried when she pointed to a jacket on a nearby chair and explained that it had belonged to Hang.

Connie was gentle and slowly pulled the information from her. Linh’s eyes still held a look of innocence and it took all of Connie’s professionalism to keep from breaking down and hugging her.

“Now tell me about tonight,” said Connie. “I understand that there were two men?”

Linh’s eyes immediately darted toward Bien and she said, “Yes, the man who drove me to Pops’s house came in with Pops. He is Vietnamese, but I do not know his name. He had a knife, but was bleeding, here,” she said, touching her chin.”

“Who had a knife? Pops or—”

“No, Vietnamese man had the knife. He was very hate, hate at Mister Pops.”

“Angry,” said Bien.

Connie looked at Bien and said, “Let her speak please. If I don’t understand, then I’ll ask you. Okay, sweetie, what happened then?”

“My name is Linh,” she said.

Bien quickly spoke in Vietnamese and Connie heard the word sweetie.

“Okay,” said Linh. She flashed a quick smile at Connie and said, “I am Sweetie.” Her face became sombre as she recited how the Vietnamese man made Pops release her. She said the man made Pops take off all his clothes.”

“Why?” asked Connie.

“I do not know. I think he very hate at Mister Pops and want to ...” she paused and asked Bien a question in Vietnamese.

“Punish,” said Bien.

“Yes, that word,” said Linh. “For what he do to me. Mister Pops take off his clothes but try to grab knife. They fight and I run away.”

“Can you tell me what the house looked like? Were there any numbers on the house or did you see any signs?”

“Very dark. I run long time. I don’t remember.”

Connie continued the questioning. With everything up until tonight, Linh had answered her questions without hesitation. Every question after that caused Linh to glance at her father before and after each answer.

Connie stopped to take an incoming call on her cellphone.

“Have you heard?” her partner asked.

“Heard what? I’m still at the hospital talking to Linh.”

“An explosion went off in the basement of some house tonight. Neighbours called it in and the fire crews are at the scene.”

“I’m busy, get someone else to—”

“Uniform just called in the plate of a car parked in an alley behind the place. It’s registered to Dúc at the Orient Pleasure!”

Connie arrived at the scene and let Bien and Linh out of the back seat of her car as Jack and Laura arrived in their own car behind her.

Most of the fire trucks were leaving and those that remained were wrapping up their hoses. The lower half of the outside of the house was scorched above the basement windows, but the rest of the house appeared to be okay.

“Linh?” asked Connie, “Can you remember if this is the house that—”

Linh started crying and buried her face in Bien’s chest. Her body shook uncontrollably and Bien hugged her. Connie had no doubt that her trauma was genuine.

Connie’s partner ran up and said, “Two bodies were found in a hidden room off the basement. That’s where the explosion and fire originated from. A half-sized door leading to the room was blown off by the explosion.”

“What caused it?” asked Connie, while staring at Jack.

“Someone disconnected a propane tank that was hooked to a heater in the room. Gas must have run a long time to cause this big of a mess.”

“Is one of the victims Dúc?” asked Connie, conscious that Jack now matched her stare.

“Don’t know yet. One guy is small and fits the description, but they’re badly burned. The other guy is a big fellow. He was naked and is shackled by a chain around his ankle. Also has a knife sticking out of his ribs.”

Connie’s thoughts were interrupted when Bien said something excitedly in Vietnamese. She saw him point up in the sky. The moon had just appeared and shone through a break in the clouds.

Linh turned around and looked up. She quit trembling as she held her father’s hand.

Connie saw Jack staring stone-faced up at the moon.

Laura was also looking up ... and trembling.

chapter forty-one

Two days after the explosion, Randy and Connie were summoned into Isaac’s office.

“Staff Otto ... Corporal Crane, have a seat,” said Isaac, gesturing to the two overstuffed leather chairs in front of his desk.

Isaac waited until they were both seated and said, “So ... Staff? What can you tell me about this ... dead pervert in a secret room out in Surrey?”

“Connie is the lead officer,” replied Randy. “She is the best one to fill you in on the details.”

“Go ahead,” said Isaac, while glancing down at the picture on his desk.

“The pervert went by the name of Pops,” said Connie. “His real name is Henry Grossman-Warrick.”

“I’ve read the initial report,” said Isaac. “Pops will suffice.”

“Thank you, sir.” said Connie. “As you know, Pops did not have a criminal record but he fit the profile we were looking for in other ways, including a history of cruelty to animals. He was never charged because he was under twelve years old. Later in life, he married and had two daughters, but his wife left him about ten years ago and took the daughters when they reached puberty. She admitted to us now that she left because he was sexually abusing his daughters. Unfortunately, she never reported it. The daughters, either. It gave him free rein to continue.”

“Pops decided to get his own girls and step up the abuse,” said Randy.

“As far as Hang’s murder goes,” continued Connie, “we know that she died using an implement from that room. There was a toilet in the room with the tank lid strapped down by metal straps. We found a broken metal rod in the bottom of the tank, along with an old toilet handle. The rod was part of the lever apparatus used to lift the plunger in the tank. Hang broke it off and used it to gouge open her wrists.”

“For what she was going through, I’m sure suicide seemed like the only option.”

“We think she may have done it to save her sister,” said Randy.

“To save her sister?” asked Isaac.

“Yes, sir,” said Connie. “We interviewed a person by the name of Tommy, who worked for Dúc. Tommy picked up Hang and the others when they first arrived off the boat. He said Hang was obsessed with watching CSI on television.”

“I’m familiar with the show,” said Isaac.

“Because of the show, she was really impressed with how smart the American police were. She said they were like scientists and was afraid they would catch her and send her back to Vietnam. Tommy said he laughed and told her that not all the police were like that. He told her the scientists only worked on dead people.”

Isaac briefly tilted his head back and closed his eyes as the true reason for Hang’s action was realized. He sighed, before leaning forward and asking, “So what do you surmise happened the night Linh escaped?”

“From what Linh told us, it would appear that Dúc parked in the alley behind Pops’s house. An altercation took place because we found traces of Dúc’s blood in his car, as well as his bloody handprint on the rear door to the house. He died of a broken neck, but had received a superficial wound under his chin first.”

“Did you find the pervert’s fingerprints in the car as well?”

“No,” Connie replied. She glanced at Randy and added, “The passenger side of the car was clean. No prints at all.”

“None?” asked Isaac.

“Almost as if it had been wiped down,” replied Connie.

“Was it?” asked Isaac.

“I don’t know, sir. That was just an observation. Maybe he hadn’t had a passenger since he last cleaned his car.”

Or was Taggart his passenger? wondered Isaac.

“A theory is, if we go by what Linh told us,” said Connie, “Dúc chained Pops to the floor and then disconnected the propane tank and went around the room lighting candles. The propane would sink to the floor so he would have had plenty of time to leave before the gas reached the height of the candles. His body was next to Pops and we found a complete candle under his body. He may have gotten too close to Pops, who grabbed him. Dúc may have stabbed him, but Pops was a big man and a body builder. He could still have snapped Dúc’s neck before he died.”

“Did he die from the knife wound or the fire and the explosion?”

“That is inconclusive. The autopsy indicates only minute quantities of soot in his lungs. He may have been on his last breath.”

“Hell of a way to die,” said Randy. “Being chained there with a knife stuck in your liver and watching the candles flicker while the gas fills the room.”

“You seem to have some reservation about what the child told you?” noted Isaac.

“She just didn’t strike me as being totally honest,” said Connie, “but it was pretty traumatic. Her father wants to take her back to Vietnam, but I’m holding his documentation. There are still a couple of loose ends I would like to clear up. I’d like to interview Linh again in a couple of days. The psychologist feels she is doing well, all things considered.”

“You think she is hiding something?” asked Isaac.

“She seemed really straightforward about everything leading up to her escape. After that I felt everything she said had been coached and rehearsed.”

“Can’t you verify her story?”

“We checked the pay phone she used. A call was placed to her grandmother in Hanoi. Also found the coins with her prints—but only her prints. We know she made the call.”

Randy cleared his throat and said, “Tell him what else you found, Connie.”

“There is a gas station across the street from the payphone. We managed to review some film footage and it showed Linh making the call in the background.”

“Good work. So you have confirmed she was telling the truth.”

“About that. Yes, sir. She told us that she borrowed some money from a man. That is on film, too. Unfortunately, the guy never looked toward the camera and he can’t be identified.”

“Do we need to identify the man?” asked Isaac.

Connie and Randy looked at each other and Randy turned to Isaac and said, “He appeared to favour his right arm ... or wrist, sir.”

Isaac looked sharply at Connie and said, “Corporal Taggart has a cast on his right arm. Just out of curiosity, do you happen to know how long he’s had it?”

Connie glanced at Randy and said, “Yes, sir. He was getting the cast put on right after he and Constable Secord dropped Linh and her father off at the hospital. He said he broke his wrist when he fell off a chair cleaning the leaves out of his gutter.”

“You said there were no other prints on the coins that Linh used?”

“In the gas station film, you can see where the man retrieved a small pouch from his pocket, like someone would keep parking change in. He handed it to Linh, who placed the call before giving it back.”

Isaac nodded knowingly. I bet there were no prints on any of the coins in that pouch. He looked at Connie and said, “You mentioned a couple of loose ends. What else is there?”

“Just speculation, sir. Trying to prove, or disprove, any other possible theories. If, for whatever reason, Linh did not escape on her own that night, then the question remains as to who helped her and how did that person—or persons—find out where she was?”

“Don’t beat around the bush, Corporal. Do you suspect Corporal Taggart or Constable Secord of somehow being involved?”

Connie’s face blushed and she looked at Randy for support.

“Sir,” Randy said, “when it comes to murder cases, I have to admit that anything that arises as happening by coincidence is automatically suspect. The man on the film favoured his wrist ... Corporal Taggart gets a cast on his wrist right after. It would be negligent of us if we didn’t investigate that matter a little further.”

Investigate a little further, mused Isaac. Good luck. Many before you have tried

“If that theory was actually true,” said Isaac, “is it also your theory that Corporal Coincidence set the explosion to—sorry, did I say coincidence? I meant Taggart.”

“It certainly destroyed most evidence of fingerprints or DNA in the room,” said Connie, “but there’s more.”

“More?”

“Yes, sir. The father, Bien, had a mark on his forehead. It looked exactly like some of the marks we found on Hang’s body. They were made by the pervert shooting at her with a CO_2 pistol. We found the pistol in the room after the fire. That was how Hang was blinded in one eye. The pathologist found a pellet—it was hold-back information.”

“Did you ask the father about the mark on his head?”

“Yes, sir. He said he fell on some bushes.”

“Well, well, well,” said Isaac. “Corporal Taggart and the father both happen to fall and hurt themselves on the same night.”

“Another coincidence, sir?” said Randy, glancing at Connie as she grabbed her ringing cellphone.

“Sorry, sir,” she said. “This could be relevant, I better take it.”

“Go ahead,” said Isaac. “Use the outer office.”

After Connie left, Isaac clasped his hands under his chin while resting his elbows on the table. “Tell me,” he said.

“Sir?” replied Randy.

“How did Corporal Taggart find her? Compared to him—even if you include Constable Secord—your office has abundantly more investigators and resources.”

“Sir, all this is just a theory that we are trying to prove or disprove.”

“I know. Just to tie up loose ends. But as you are well aware, this isn’t exactly the first time that some criminals, albeit very evil criminals, connected to Corporal Taggart ended up dead while he is still walking around above ground with the word coincidence stamped all over him.”

“Sir ... everyone in my office is extremely dedicated. I would personally vouch for every one of them. Everyone follows procedure and everyone works very, very hard to bring every case to a successful conclusion.”

“I’m not implying that you or anyone in your office is negligent or lazy,” said Isaac. “In fact, it is the complete opposite. It is my respect for you personally, that allows me to ask you the question. This discussion is just between the two of us.”

“I see,” replied Randy.

“I’m not blaming you. If anyone is to blame, it was me who cancelled his transfer out of the section and brought him back into the case.”

“Understood,” replied Randy.

“So how did he do it?”

Randy took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Well, the truth is, sir, we are half expecting to find two more bodies. If we do, I suspect that they may show signs of having been tortured.”

“Who?” asked Isaac coldly.

“This morning I learned that the two Russians have both been missing ever since this happened,” replied Randy. “We think they knew who Pops was and where he lived. Most of their belongings are still at their apartment.”

Isaac slammed his fist on the desk and said, “I want everyone involved in this put on the polygraph! Taggart, Secord—the father, too! Take his daughter and put her with Social Services. I’m not accepting a theory that Taggart may have tortured and killed two people! I want the truth!”

“Yes, sir,” replied Randy. “I know that Constable Secord had to fly to Toronto today for a court case, but is due back the day after tomorrow. Corporal Taggart is around and both Bien and his daughter are ...” Randy paused as Connie returned and bent over beside him.

“I just found the two Russians,” she whispered in his ear, before taking her seat again.

“What was that?” asked Isaac. “What did you just say?”

“I just explained that they were missing,” said Randy, looking at Connie.

“Not anymore,” said Connie. “I just took a call from a Doctor Son, who works with Interpol in Vietnam. He said both Russians flew back to Hanoi.”

“They just came back from there three days ago,” said Randy. “This means they would have had to have turned around and gone back almost immediately. It doesn’t make sense.”

“There’s no doubt it’s them,” said Connie. “Whatever the reason, Doctor Son said the timing was perfect. The Vietnamese police had just raided and detained the ship in port that the Russians were using to smuggle people. The captain rolled and gave up the Russians. They’ve both been arrested. Doctor Son thinks with the sentences they will get, they’ll spend the rest of their lives in prison over there.”

“How did Doctor Son get your number?” asked Randy curiously.

“Uh ... apparently Jack gave it to him.” Connie looked at both Isaac and Randy and added, “The call was legit.”

“How do you know?” asked Isaac.

“I already called the airport and verified the Russians’ flight itinerary,” admitted Connie.

For a moment, silence descended upon the room. Eventually Randy said, “I guess that one theory I had has proven to be wrong.”

Isaac didn’t answer and leaned back in his chair as his eyes drifted toward the ceiling. His lips moved slightly before he leaned forward and absentmindedly straightened a picture and a Bible on his desk.

“Sir?” asked Randy, after what seemed an awkward silence.

Isaac looked up and said, “Corporal Crane, see to it that Bien and his daughter receive the necessary documentation to travel forthwith. Should you deem it absolutely necessary, you can request that Doctor Son follow up on any other questions you might have.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Connie.

“Good. Now, Corporal Crane, would you please leave. I have another matter to discuss with Staff Otto.”

Isaac waited until Connie left the room before saying, “It would appear that we both may have been jumping to conclusions. A real shame if we had levelled false and serious allegations over what turned out to be a simple coincidence. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir.”

“False conclusions about the torture, that is.”

“Yes, sir. That would have been awful.”

Isaac nodded thoughtfully, stared at Randy and said, “Regarding the death of Pops and Dúc—and the girl’s escape. With the Russians being arrested, do you now believe it happened as we were told?”

“No, sir. I don’t,” replied Randy nervously, looking at Isaac for a response.

“Me, neither,” said Isaac. He gave a wry smile and added, “I just wonder how the son of a bitch pulled it off.”

Jack walked into The Torn Twenty coffee shop with Bien and Linh. The tears flooded Jade’s eyes when Jack introduced her to them and she immediately gave them both a hug. Jack left the three of them at a table to talk in their native tongue while he went to the counter and talked with Holly.

“How is she making out?” he asked.

“Right after you called and told her what had happened, she started crying. She was really fond of that girl, Hang, who came with her on the ship.”

“I know. It took tremendous courage for her to agree to testify.”

“Will she have to go back to Vietnam as well?”

“No, I think they have a mountain of evidence against the people on that end. But with Jade’s help, we should be able to convict the remaining Tran brothers, along with other people in the gang ... including many of the men who raped her.”

“Any risk to her family?”

“The Vietnamese police say not. Their system is different than ours. The bad guys over there won’t be getting a slap on the wrist. Any retribution toward Jade’s family now would bring them even more severe repercussions. The bad guys know that.”

Jack watched Jade unconsciously massage Linh’s arm while talking to her. It was a common sign of affection amongst Asian people. “How is she doing as a nanny?” he asked.

Holly smiled. “Fantastic. She wanted to bring Jenny and Charlie to the restaurant, but I got a sitter. I thought this should be a private moment for the three of them.”

“So she’s working out okay?”

“The only complaint I could have is that she is too hard of a worker. It’s difficult trying to get her to take two days off and relax. She would rather play with Jenny and Charlie, or clean house. She’s really good with them. Acts like she’s their big sister.”

“I think she could use a family.”

“I like her. It’s also nice having another adult in the house. It makes me feel safer. She wrote a long letter to her mother telling her what happened and where she is working now. She hasn’t mailed it yet.”

“Why not?”

“She wants to ask your permission.”

“It’s a good idea. I think we should take some pictures of her with you and your family. It would be nice to include. People over there are too poor to have cameras. It would mean a lot.”

“She doesn’t know how her mother will respond when she finds out what happened.”

Jack reflected back on his own mother’s bitter response when she knew that Jack had discovered the “secret.” He sighed and said, “Jade has had a tough life, but if her mother is worthy of being a mother, she’ll respond the right way and not blame Jade. If she’s not worthy, she’s not worth worrying about.”

“I guess so,” replied Holly. “But my heart goes out to Jade. I hope it works out. She’s told me some things. I know life for her has been hell.”

“She’s still a good kid. It was her idea to meet Bien and Linh. They wanted to meet her, too. To thank her for having the courage to come forward and testify.”

Jack paused, wondering how many countless others would be saved by Jade having the courage to come forward.

“What will happen to Bien and Linh?” asked Holly, nodding her head toward their table.

“They’re heading back to Vietnam. Their flight leaves at around eleven tomorrow morning. I invited them to come over and meet Natasha and have dinner with us tonight. They declined and said they wanted to just be alone. They’re anxious to leave tomorrow.”

“Can’t say as I blame them.”

It was eight o’clock at night when Natasha heard Jack arrive home. She lit the candle on the dining room table just as he entered the room.

“What do you think?” she asked, doing a pirouette that allowed the silk fabric of her Vietnamese gown to flare out. “Last time I wore this, you went to sleep before seeing it,” she added.

Jack stared at her for a moment. Her hair flowed down to her shoulders and the snug-fitting gown revealed a figure that was absolutely stunning. Light from the candle flickered in her eyes.

“Believe me,” he said, “I won’t fall asleep tonight. You look incredible.”

“You like it?” she asked.

“It’s stunning. You’re beautiful ... and I really love you.”

“I love you, too. I feel like you’re back to your old self again. The guy I really love.”

“I’m not sure what you mean?”

“Yes, you do. It’s okay. Just make sure you always come home to me. Promise you won’t get yourself killed, or end up on the wrong side of the bars.”

Jack felt his eyes water. “I promise. There is one more thing. A very nice man gave me a gift for you today,” he said, handing her a silver chain with a large pearl dangling from the centre.

“Jack! It’s lovely! Huge!”

“I’m told that if you look at it, you can imagine the moon. He said if you’re lucky, and you look at it closely, you might even see an angel looking back at you.”

epilogue

1. Petya Globenko and Styopa Ghukov were each sentenced to eighteen years in jail for smuggling and are currently serving their time at Thanh Hoa prison in Vietnam.

2. The owner of the Mekong Palace restaurant went out of business. He feared for his life but did have the courage to attend the trial for Xuân. Although he was the only witness to do so, of the many who had been summoned, Xuân changed his plea to guilty when the owner appeared and was subsequently sentenced to eighteen months of secure custody to be followed by nine months of probation.

After his release from jail, Xuân was the prime suspect in the stabbing death of three people in a Vancouver nightclub. The three victims had no known gang association and were simply believed to have been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Police had just obtained enough evidence and were on the verge of charging him for the murders when Xuân wounded and attempted to murder the leader of a rival gang with an automatic handgun. In an exchange of gunfire, Xuân was wounded and died a short time later.

3. The “Cuban Five” comprised of Gerardo Hernández, Ramón Labañino, Antonio Guerrero, Fernando González, and René González successfully gathered information on a terrorist attack involving a boatload of explosives bound for Cuba. The Cuban authorities notified the FBI, who seized the explosives, but arrested the five undercover Cuban Intelligence officers.

Despite the U.S. demands for the world to unite in the face of terrorism, the “Cuban Five” have remained in prison in the U.S. since their arrests in 1998.

4. “Tarah,” the Canadian volunteer at Blue Dragon Children’s Foundation in Vietnam, was instrumental in setting up a network to provide homes for over fifty children and feed dozens every day. Many more children are in need of help. Anyone wanting to learn more about this organization, or wishing to make a contribution to the Blue Dragon, may do so by going online at www.streetkidsinvietnam.com.

5. Justice was denied when Douglas Henry Easton died alone in a hospital in Red Deer, Alberta, without ever facing prosecution for his crimes.

Author’s note:

For those who are the victims of sexual abuse—know you are not alone. There are no geographical, social, or economic boundaries when it comes to the perpetrators and the children they prey upon. If you are a victim, please find the courage to come forward. As part of the healing process, change your perception of yourself from “victim” to that of “advocate” and “survivor.” You have the strength within to do it. It is time to identify the monsters and put them away. Our children need protection. Please find the courage to do what is right.

1

It was seven o’clock in the evening and the last Sunday in June when Constable Sophie White opened her locker. She had completed her first week on the job after graduating from the Royal Canadian Mounted Police academy in Regina. She was thrilled to have been transferred to the RCMP Detachment in Surrey. Less than an hour drive to Vancouver, it was one of the largest and busiest detachments in British Columbia.

She glanced at the mirror hanging on her locker door and caught her own impish grin, betraying her excitement. Combined with her young face, she wondered if it gave her a look of innocence, revealing her lack of experience. She frowned, then hardened her jaw line and tried to look stern. Well, that didn’t work! At least my uniform is crisp and clean. Everyone will respect that …

She put her holster, containing her Smith & Wesson 9 mm semi-automatic pistol, in her locker and closed the narrow metal door. Her hands fumbled with the padlock before the sound of the click told her it was locked. She knew she was a little nervous. Before going home, she had to meet with her supervisor.

If she knew the horrific terror that awaited her, she would have wanted to curl up in the fetal position inside her locker and stay there. Her belief that everyone respected the uniform was about to be erased. Her journey home was about to become a journey to hell.

“You did well this week,” said her supervisor, as Sophie approached his desk.

“Thanks, Bob,” Sophie smiled back.

“Caught a fourteen-year-old kid in a stolen car,” said Bob, glancing at the notes he had made. “Smoothed out three domestic disturbances and nailed one guy with two kilos of B.C. bud. Not bad for your first week,” he added, matter-of-factly.

Sophie smiled again.

“You handle a car well, too,” he added, focusing his attention on Sophie’s face. “City traffic doesn’t bother you?”

Sophie shrugged and said, “I was raised in Calgary. If I could handle the Deerfoot Trail on a Friday night when half the rednecks are going home with a few beers under their belts, I’m confident I can handle the traffic here.”

A flicker of a smile crossed Bob’s face before he became serious. “You are confident. But perhaps too much so, after that little incident an hour ago.”

Sophie felt her cheeks flush. They had been driving through an industrial area when two cars raced away from a gravelled lane near some warehouses. Sophie had instinctively accelerated in hot pursuit. She had spun the steering wheel hard to turn down another lane in the hope of intercepting their quarry. Bob yelled for her to keep going straight, but she believed her shortcut would save valuable seconds and was anxious to show her ability. Halfway down the lane she slid to a stop at a gate blocking her path. Bob stared at her, with his arms folded across his chest. By the time she turned the car around and headed back, it was far too late to catch anyone.

Sophie sighed and picked an imaginary piece of lint from her uniformed pants. Up until an hour ago, everything was going so great. She swallowed and looked at Bob and said, “I didn’t know the lane was —”

“But I did,” interrupted Bob. “When I give you instructions, I expect you to obey.”

“I’m sorry,” stammered Sophie. “It won’t happen again.”

Bob looked at her long enough for her to feel more uncomfortable, before continuing. “You were caught up in the excitement of the chase. Next time, try to stay calm and listen to what I say!”

Sophie nodded, feeling the heat prickle her ears.

“At least the kids didn’t finish the job,” said Bob and Sophie nodded in agreement.

When they returned to the warehouse they saw where cherry-red graffiti had been sprayed on the side of the building — GRAD 20.

“You’ve only been here a week,” said Bob. “The kids around here know the area a lot better than you do. Make it a priority to change that. Whether you’re working or on days off, pay attention. Get to know your area. Learn which businesses are open late and when they close. Know which places have night janitors and which don’t. Recognize those who are delivering pizzas or newspapers, and those who are casing places for break-ins. It takes time. You’re new. The punks know that and will test you.” Bob paused and saw that Sophie was paying close attention. Her face was still flushed, revealing her regret. “Okay, enough said. You can go home.”

“Thanks, Bob.” Sophie glanced over at some other officers who were running out of the office to answer a report of an injury car accident. She turned to Bob and said, “I’ve got some paperwork to do. Maybe I’ll hang around a bit.”

Bob hid his grin. I was like that once. Never wanted to go home. The work was my life … until I discovered that those I arrested were going home sooner than I could finish their paperwork. He knew Sophie would learn about that soon enough. “Suit yourself, but I’m out of here. Next week we’re working seven to seven nights. Believe me, if you think this last week was busy, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

Later as she drove her Ford Focus hatchback home, Sophie thought about Bob’s remarks. She glanced at the envelope on the seat beside her. She had written to her mom and dad, telling them about her first week on the job and had tucked the note inside a Father’s Day card. She felt guilty that the card was already a week late, but told herself that at least she had found the time to call.

Sophie scanned the street corners for a mailbox. Bob’s right about me not knowing the area. I don’t even know where a mailbox is. No wonder the kids made a fool out of me tonight! She checked her watch. Only nine o’clock. Not tired yet. With a determined look she drove back to the industrial area. One thing is for certain … within an hour or so, I’ll know every alley, road, exit, building, and damned gate within that area!

Sophie was about to learn that nothing about life is certain. Not even survival.

Melvin stood between two parked vans. With his hand inside his jacket, he stared at the front of the medical clinic, situated in the heart of Vancouver. It was twenty past nine and the sun was setting, but at the bottom of the skyscrapers, the shadows had already converged. Soon it will be night. He felt comforted. Darkness is my friend.

Melvin continued to stare through the glass. Is she working tonight? Just then he saw Dr. Natasha Taggart enter into the waiting room. He took a step forward, but stopped when she disappeared down a hall.

Natasha saw the slight lull in the waiting room as an opportunity to call her husband on his cellphone. He was also working that evening. Come to think of it, thought Natasha, he actually started work at eight o’clock this morning.

Jack answered, but immediately asked her to hold. She could hear him talking to someone in the background. Female voice, probably Laura.

Natasha hadn’t bothered to ask Jack what was going on when he called her that afternoon to say he would be working late. He worked on the RCMP Intelligence Unit in Vancouver. Constable Laura Secord worked for him, but was also his partner. Their work was secret. At least Jack tried not to bring it home but sometimes it followed him.

Natasha felt herself tremble when she recalled how close she had once come to being murdered by some gangsters who intended to trap her husband. She intentionally pushed the memory from her mind.

She heard the female voice again and smiled. It is Laura. Jack was very fond of Laura, but she wasn’t worried. She had also taken an instant liking to Laura, who was married to another Mountie.

She trusted Laura and knew that Jack thought of her like a sister. Most men wouldn’t. Laura had long curly hair with a natural mixture of reds and gold that reminded Natasha of the leaves in autumn. She also had a body that would make any Hollywood starlet jealous. The important factor to Natasha, however, was that Laura was both intuitive and intelligent. For that, Natasha was thankful. Both Jack and Laura were seasoned undercover operatives whose lives often depended upon each other. There was no room for stupidity.

“Sorry, hon, I’m back,” said Jack.

“Just called to say hi,” replied Natasha. “You sound busy.”

“Very. How about you?”

“It’s quiet. Stuck my head in the waiting room and it’s actually empty for the moment. Think I’ll run out and bring a muffin back from the deli. You going to be home tonight? Should I wait up?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jack. “Call me when you get home. If I don’t pick up, leave a message and I’ll try to get back to you. I have to go. Love ya.”

Constable Sophie White slowly drove past the graffiti on the side of the warehouse. For Sophie, it wasn’t only graffiti. It was a sign of her failure to catch the kids responsible. Next time I will be ready. Next …

For the next hour, Sophie drove through a maze of roads and lanes that dissected the industrial area. Not having seen another person or vehicle during the entire time, she was curious when she spotted headlights of another vehicle reflecting off the glass windows of a nearby building. Hmm, kind of late for traffic to be here now. She quickly parked her car and shut it off as she watched. Have I been seen? Hope not. She saw it was actually two cars, one immediately behind the other as they slowly meandered through the maze of warehouses. They’re back to finish the job!

It appeared to Sophie that they may be checking to make sure they were alone. She felt her adrenalin surge as the cars drove toward her. She ducked down but peeked out over the dash as they continued past. She saw two figures in the lead car and the silhouette of one person in the car following. The cars slowed and turned down a side road.

Her view was blocked by a large warehouse, but when the cars did not reappear, she knew they had stopped. She smiled. They had parked within a two-minute walk of where she was. Okay, kids. You’re about to be caught red-handed. She thought of the colour of paint the kids had used and snickered. And I do mean red-handed!

Briefly, she thought about her gun back in her locker … But these are just kids. She was still in uniform, but decided to take out her leather wallet containing her shiny new badge and identification card. She couldn’t resist flipping it open and the leather emitted a small creak. I think I’ll have the desired effect! Still, mental note. Buy myself a cellphone. She smiled at the image she would soon present to her colleagues when she returned to the office in her car, followed by two cars with what were sure to be red-faced kids.

She got out of her car and quietly closed the door before creeping toward the warehouse. She kept to the shadows, her journey to hell coming closer with each step.

2

Natasha hurried from the clinic, stopping briefly at the employee parking lot to get a sweater from her car before going to the deli. Her silver Nissan Altima was parked next to a van and she consciously looked around before approaching her car. The clinic was located in a high-crime area and being cautious was second nature. She didn’t see anyone, so she retrieved her sweater before locking and closing her car door. The light scrape of grit from a man’s shoe behind her told her she was not alone.

She spun around and saw a man step out from behind the van. It was difficult to see his face, silhouetted by neon lights from behind, but she could see he had long hair and a beard. His hand was tucked inside his dark nylon raincoat. Raincoat? Hot for this time of year. And it hasn’t rained in over a week.

“Who are you?” demanded Natasha, hoping the authoritative tone of her voice would hide her fear.

The response was an unintelligible whimper and he scurried out of sight behind the van. Natasha breathed a sigh of relief and she recalled a patient she had last treated months earlier.

“Melvin, is that you?” she asked.

There was no response but Natasha could hear him panting as his fright level increased. She made a wide arc around her car and came around the side of the van so that the lights were behind her and she could see his face.

“Melvin Montgomery! It is you! What is it? What’s wrong?”

Melvin glanced furtively about.

Natasha knew that Melvin was neither an alcoholic nor a drug addict. His many illnesses were psychological. Among them, anthropophobia, also known as fear of people and fear of society.

With some people, anthropophobia would come and go, but with Melvin, it was a constant presence. He had a morbid aversion to human contact. It caused him panic attacks, shortness of breath, rapid breathing, irregular heartbeat, sweating, nausea, and an intense feeling of dread.

By nature, Melvin was gentle and much too afraid to seek help or remain in any environment where people were nearby. It was not an easy life. A life that forced him to live in a doorway in an alley, his existence dependent upon a few select Dumpsters behind the area restaurants.

Natasha had encountered and befriended him before. The first time she had helped him, he had made it as far as the entrance to the waiting room, but when he saw the other patients, he wouldn’t come in. The receptionist became alarmed at the sight of a vagrant with an old green sleeping bag draped around his shoulders loitering outside. She notified Natasha, who went out and discovered he was suffering from an infection caused when he was bitten on his chest by an injured cat that he found. She allowed him to enter through the rear fire-escape door.

A few days after that, Melvin returned after someone roughed him up and stole the antibiotics she had prescribed. His trust for her had grown enough that he had stepped inside to let Natasha re-examine his chest in the corridor. Maybe tonight will be easier, she thought.

“It’s okay,” said Natasha. “I see you’ve been waiting for me. I’m here now. It’s okay. Are you hurt?”

Melvin stared at Natasha for a moment before slowly taking his hand from his raincoat and holding it out. Blood seeped from a dirty rag wrapped around his hand.

“Looks like I better take a look at that,” said Natasha. “What happened?”

“I fell,” mumbled Melvin. “In a Dumpster. A piece of tin,” he added for explanation.

Natasha sighed, not so much at the injury as to the predicament that caused it. “You should come inside so I can have a better look. You might need stitches.”

Melvin looked at the clinic and shook his head, retreating farther into the shadows as two people strolled by on the sidewalk.

“It’s okay,” said Natasha. “There is nobody inside the waiting room. I’ll walk ahead and make sure we’re not bothered.”

Minutes later, Natasha had achieved some success as Melvin followed her into the clinic, but before she could examine him, he sought refuge in the rear washroom.

As the minutes ticked by, Natasha heard the receptionist talking to some newly arrived patients.

“Melvin?” she said quietly. “You have to come out. You can trust me. I’ll make sure nobody hurts you, but you —”

The door unlocked and Melvin stepped out. He glanced around and saw Natasha was alone. “I wasn’t hiding from you,” he whispered, glancing nervously down the hall. “I saw you were scared of me when we were outside. I know I don’t look so good. I’m sorry.”

Natasha saw that Melvin had wet his hair and slicked it back from his face in an attempt to look nicer. She smiled and said, “You did scare me, but that was before I knew it was you. I don’t need to be scared of you, do I?”

Melvin looked concerned, shaking his head, then caught Natasha’s smile. He gave a small smile out of embarrassment at the irony of the situation and lowered his head.

“Think you could handle coming inside an examination room with me?” asked Natasha.

Anguished, Melvin looked into the small room, but nodded and entered. Once inside, he allowed Natasha to treat his injury.

Natasha spotted a clump of cat hair on Melvin’s coat and said, “By chance, that wouldn’t happen to be from the same cat who bit you before?”

Melvin shyly nodded and said, “I adopted him. I call him Winston.”

“Good name,” replied Natasha. “Last time we talked you mentioned he had just lost his front leg. How is he doing?”

“That was when we first met. He had crawled up into the engine compartment of a parked truck to keep warm. When the guy came back and started his truck and drove off, I think Winston caught his leg in the radiator fan, but he’s better now, thanks.”

“You said he took off after he bit you. Did he come back again later?”

“No, it took a few days of looking but I found him a few blocks away. He didn’t mean to bite me. He was just hurting. We’re friends now.”

“Does he have trouble getting around?”

“He can run faster than me,” replied Melvin. “He is also afraid of people. Especially cars and trucks.” Melvin smiled at Natasha and added, “Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. Winston and I are kind of the same.”

Natasha’s smile revealed that Melvin had read her thoughts correctly.

“At night, he crawls into my sleeping bag with me and sleeps curled up on my chest.”

“The piece of tin you fell on left quite a cut,” said Natasha, changing the subject. “I’m sure it’s painful.”

“Yeah, but don’t worry. I won’t bite you,” grinned Melvin.

Mad Dog scanned his rear-view mirror one last time before pulling in behind the warehouse and parking. Snake and Looner, who were in the car in front of him, had also parked. Mad Dog shut off his headlights and sat for a moment, peering around in the darkness. He lowered the car window and listened. He saw Snake get out of his car and stand scanning the area, as well. Looner was less cautious and gave Mad Dog a friendly smile as he approached.

“Let’s do it,” said Looner.

“Shut the fuck up and listen for a moment,” said Mad Dog.

Looner listened briefly and said, “I don’t hear nothin’.”

After a pause, Mad Dog replied, “Me either, but after this afternoon, I ain’t takin’ no fuckin’ chances. You search ’im good?” asked Mad Dog, with a nod of his head toward Snake.

“Yeah, real good,” replied Looner. “He ain’t gonna rip us. It’s only you and me that got pieces,” he said, patting the butt of the .44-calibre semi-automatic pistol stuck in his waistband. “Besides,” added Looner, “I trust him. Can’t say as I feel the same about Pete and Bongo, though.”

Mad Dog tried to qualm the rage he felt in order to think. It had been a bad couple of days. Less than three weeks out of prison for serving most of a four-year sentence for armed robbery and he was nearly arrested again yesterday afternoon. What the fuck happened?

He replayed yesterday’s scenario over again in his head. He had already picked up his stash of killing machines. Two Mac-10s with silencers, two Uzis, and three Desert Eagle .44-calibre magnum semi-automatic pistols. As planned, he was to deliver them to everyone two hours before the armoured truck arrived.

Mad Dog was on his way when things fell apart. He spotted the same car that ran a red light behind him the day before. Checking a piece of paper in his pocket confirmed that the number he had scrawled down was the same plate. He exchanged eye contact with the pig driving the car. The pig knew he had been burned and tried to cut him off in traffic. Mad Dog knew he had been extremely lucky. Lucky that I got a good memory for numbers. Lucky to get away.

Immediately he called Snake and Looner on their cellphones. He was in time to warn them. Pete and Bongo were not so lucky. So how did the pigs find out about it?

The plan to rob the guards from the Brinks armoured truck was something he had thought about constantly during his last year in jail. It was all he and Looner had talked about. The other men were hand-picked later. Looner had been released two months ahead of him. Did Looner say something to earn an early release? Then again, he’s so stupid, he could have let it slip accidentally.

Then there were Snake, Pete, and Bongo. Snake came recommended through Ophelia, a hooker he knew and trusted. Pete and Bongo were guys he had met in a bar. Both said they were addicts. He believed they would want the money as much as he did. Were they really arrested? Or was one of them the rat? There was his own girlfriend, Julie. She had visited Mad Dog regularly when he was in jail. Was it her? Had she found someone else when I was inside …? Naw, the bitch loves me.

Mad Dog warily glanced at Snake and Looner. Now it was every man for himself. Unlike Looner, he didn’t trust anyone … including Looner, who was too stupid to know the pistol Mad Dog gave him wasn’t loaded.

Snake was another story. He was smart and Mad Dog knew he hadn’t earned his nickname by being nice. Now survival was the name of the game … and being around someone like Snake made him nervous.

No place was safe and he was broke. Except for one thing. He had a trunk full of a very valuable commodity. With luck, he and Julie would get enough cash to slip into the States and make their way to Mexico. Snake knew some bikers willing to pay top dollar. The trick is to sell the guns and get the money without being shot or robbed by either Snake or the bikers.

Mad Dog was happy with the scenario that had been negotiated. Julie and Snake’s girlfriend would both wait in a motel. Snake would pick up Looner, who would search Snake and his car, just to keep him honest. Looner would take Snake to meet Mad Dog, who would give him the guns, except for two Desert Eagles that he and Looner carried. He would keep one for his run to Mexico. Looner would keep the other.

When Snake got the guns, he was to call his girlfriend, who would then call the bikers to bring the money to the motel. Julie would turn over the ammo for the guns and the bikers would take Snake’s girlfriend as a hostage until Snake delivered the guns to them.

Mad Dog glanced up at the sky as he walked to the rear of the car. There was a full moon, which pleased him. He knew a remote road behind Cultus Lake that would take him close enough to an area where he could walk through the bush and cross the border into the States. It would be better if he didn’t have to use a flashlight. He had used the route before when he had helped his brother import cocaine. With luck, he and Julie would be in the States within the next couple of hours.

He and Looner were to part company near the U.S. border. Looner would drop him and Julie off and take the car. Looner’s plan was to hide out with a girlfriend in Prince George. Mad Dog knew Looner would be caught sooner or later, but it would help him if the cops didn’t find a stolen car ditched near Cultus Lake and put two and two together.

Snake wasn’t talkative about his plan to escape. Likely crawl back into the same hole he came out of and wait until the heat died down.

Mad Dog took a deep breath before popping the trunk as Looner and Snake gathered around to look inside.

“As promised,” said Mad Dog, fingering the butt of his .44 as Snake bent over to examine the guns.

A woman’s voice screamed behind him, “Police! You’re not going anywhere this time!”

Constable Sophie White saw three men spin around to face her. She gasped when she saw two of them were pointing pistols at her. One man straightened his arm to shoulder height, aiming it at her face as his finger started to squeeze the trigger.

3

“Wait!” Snake yelled at Mad Dog. “The pig-bitch doesn’t even have her piece out. There could be more of them,” he said, glancing around nervously. “If there’s others, she could be our ticket out of here!”

Mad Dog stared at the young woman in front of him as she dropped her police identification on the ground and slowly raised her hands. Something sure as hell don’t make sense! How come there ain’t an army of pigs with guns?

“Why is she here by herself?” asked Mad Dog before looking at Sophie and demanding, “What the fuck are you doing here? How did you know we were here?”

“I … I don’t know who you are,” she replied, her voice barely audible. “My, my partner and I were on our way home. I left my gun and portable radio in the car with him.”

“Why are you here?” snarled Mad Dog.

“I just, I mean, we … there were some kids who were vandalizing some of these buildings earlier tonight. We were checking it again on the way home.”

Mad Dog stared at her silently for a moment and then said, “I think she’s lying. If she had a partner, why isn’t he with her?” He glanced at Looner and said, “You want to shoot her?” Remembering that Looner’s gun was empty, he added, “Never mind. Fuck it, I’ll do it!”

“Hang on,” said Snake. “I don’t wanna get busted for killin’ a cop if I don’t need to. Do that and the cops will be huntin’ us down for as long as we live.”

“We got no choice,” said Mad Dog. “The pigs will figure out who we are. Besides, she’s seen our cars. I don’t have time to rip another one off. Too risky under the circumstances. I gotta get outta here. There’s no fuckin’ way I’m goin’ back inside.”

“We just got here,” observed Snake. “She’s gotta be parked close. Find her wheels. We’ll tie her up and lock her in the trunk of her car.”

“Tie her up with what?” asked Mad Dog.

“If we don’t have somethin’, then I’ll rip some wires out from under the hood of her car. We’ll be long gone before anyone finds her.”

“We ain’t got time for that,” said Mad Dog.

“Fuck, what will it take? Five minutes?” Snake looked at Sophie and yelled, “Empty your pockets, pig!”

Sophie’s keys fell to the ground. “My car is over there,” she pointed. “I’m alone,” she confessed, meekly.

Mad Dog paused, but looked at Snake and said, “Okay. Five minutes max. Looner, grab the keys and bring her car here.”

Looner did as instructed and a couple of minutes later, he pulled up in Sophie’s Ford Focus and got out.

“It’s a fuckin’ hatchback!” said Mad Dog. “I sure as fuck ain’t leavin’ her in no hatchback! At least, not alive!” He was still a short distance away from Sophie, but before he could take proper aim, Looner pulled the pistol out of his belt and stepped between and said, “Want me to do it, Mad Dog?”

“No, I’ll do it,” replied Mad Dog. “Next time can be your turn. Open up the door to her car and make her get in the back seat. You get out of the way, too, Snake.”

Looner opened up the car door and clicked the lever on the seat with the barrel of his pistol, allowing the front seat to spring forward, before stepping back.

Snake moved closer to Sophie and said with a sneer, “Guess it ain’t your lucky day, is it pig? Guess it’s nighty-night time for —” He stopped, his eyes ogling her body. “Holy shit!” he said, running his fingers up the side of her ribcage. “You’re a fine piece of meat, ain’t ya?”

Sophie stared back. She was shaking and she felt the need to vomit.

Snake gave an evil grin and added, “Maybe it’s your day to get lucky.” He looked back at Mad Dog and said, “I ain’t never fucked a pig before!”

“I don’t have time for that,” said Mad Dog. “Get out of the way so I can do what I gotta do.”

“You don’t have time for that?” said Snake, letting out a short laugh. “Oh, baby, I always got time for that!”

Before Mad Dog could reply, Snake spun around and buried his fist deep into Sophie’s midriff. She slumped toward the ground as Snake grabbed her.

“Snake, what the fuck you doing?” asked Mad Dog.

“Puttin’ her in the back seat,” Snake replied, “like you said,” he added, tossing Sophie into the back of her car. He glanced at her as she was squirming and gasping for breath. “Bet it isn’t your first time in a back seat with a man, is it, my little pork tenderloin?”

Snake turned to Mad Dog and lowered his voice and said, “Come on, give me a piece. I’ll have a little fun with her. Won’t take me but a minute or two. Then I’ll shoot the bitch and torch her and the car.”

Mad Dog hesitated. He was about to say no, but it occurred to him that lady luck had handed him an ace he could keep up his sleeve to guarantee his freedom. If he was caught running the border tonight, even with the attempted armed robbery yesterday, being able to hand over a cop-killer would be the best “get out of jail card” he could ever have. The only trouble is I gotta make sure I don’t let Snake shoot me, too, and take the guns or money for himself.

Mad Dog smiled and said, “Looner, toss him the other .44.” He then ejected one bullet from his gun and said, “Give him that.” He glared at Snake and said, “One bullet only!”

“That’s all I need for that little pig,” said Snake.

Sophie watched from the back seat of the car. Any hope she had of grabbing Snake’s gun and gaining her freedom was dashed. Even if I get the gun … one bullet, three men … my only chance is to convince them not to kill me. She looked at their faces and knew that was unlikely. I’m going to die and there’s nothing I can do about it!

Seconds later, Snake cautiously picked up the gun. Looner followed Mad Dog’s lead and also pointed his pistol at Snake.

Snake grinned and said, “Come on guys, after what we’ve been through together?”

“It’s because of what we’ve been through,” replied Mad Dog. “Besides, I know your rep. Hurry up. When you’re done, shoot the pig, then call your ol’ lady and tell her ya got the guns. Don’t torch the car until after Looner and I leave. Now … hurry the fuck up!”

Sophie cringed back in the seat as Snake leaned in.

“Lie on your back with your arms underneath ya!” ordered Snake. “I don’t want ya grabbin’ at no gun!”

Sophie did as instructed and Snake crawled in on top of her while pointing a gun at her face. She felt his knee force her legs apart and was conscious of the gun beside her temple.

“Please, don’t,” she pleaded. “I’m a cop. Think about it. You hurt me and you go away for life. Just take my car keys and drive off.”

“Ya know somethin’,” said Snake, “actually, I’m a nice guy. If it was me, maybe I would. But my friends … well, they ain’t gonna let that happen, so ya may as well enjoy it. Treat it like it’s your last!”

Sophie heard Looner chuckle at Snake’s comment. In her mind, she thought it odd that she sensed a partial satisfaction by thinking that DNA might be found inside her body. I’m going to be raped and murdered … and I’m thinking about DNA …

“Give me a hand, will ya Looner?” yelled Snake, while leaning back and tugging on Sophie’s belt. “Grab her fuckin’ pants by the cuffs and help pull ’em off for me!”

Sophie felt Looner yank her shoes off and toss them in the front seat. Snake leered at her and said, “Now if you’re real co-operative, maybe I’ll decide you’re worth livin’.”

As he leaned closer she could feel his warm and moist breath on the side of her neck and then her ear.

Looner leaped back as Snake cried out.

“You fuckin’ bitch!” screamed Snake.

“What happened?” asked Looner.

“She kneed me in the nuts!”

“Jesus fuck,” said Mad Dog. “Shoot her. Enough is enough.”

Sophie was dazed, confused, and in shock as Snake pointed the gun at her face. He looked unafraid and calm, as if he had done this many times before. She closed her eyes and felt one of his hands choke her jugular as he held her head still.

The car echoed to the sound of the explosion and both Mad Dog and Looner watched as Snake backed out of the car. His hands and face were splattered with blood. He looked at Mad Dog, gave a wicked smile and said, “I thought pigs would squeal more than that. Bet she would have if I coulda fucked her before blowin’ her face off!”

Mad Dog peered in the back seat at Sophie’s body, curious what damage a .44 magnum would do. Now he knew. Her face was drenched in blood.

“Ya got a rag for me to wipe my hands?” asked Snake nonchalantly. It occurred to Mad Dog that it was the same tone of voice a person might use to ask for a napkin after eating fried chicken.

“The pieces are wrapped in rags,” Mad Dog reminded him. “I’ll grab ya one of ’em. Better wipe your face, too.”

Seconds later, the weapons were loaded in the trunk of Snake’s car and Mad Dog listened as Snake called the motel to speak to his girlfriend. “Done deal. Got ’em all. Went as smooth as your silk undies.”

Mad Dog glanced at Snake and the Ford Focus in his rear-view mirror as he and Looner drove away. Smooth as silk? Snake’s nickname is perfect. Cold-blooded reptile.

A short time later, Mad Dog breathed a sigh of relief when Julie answered the door at the motel and gestured to the money she had piled on the bed.

“You count it?” asked Looner, running past Mad Dog to look at the money.

“Three times,” she replied.

“Snake’s ol’ lady?” asked Mad Dog.

“She’s got their cut and a biker took her away. Hope Snake loves her enough to deliver. Otherwise she’ll be workin’ on her back forever to pay for it.”

“Who cares,” replied Mad Dog. “Pack up. We’re leavin’ —”

Mad Dog’s words were lost at the sound of breaking glass as the first of three percussion grenades came through the motel window. The explosions left them all in a momentary state of shock and confusion.

Seconds later, Mad Dog looked up at the RCMP Emergency Response Team from where he was handcuffed on the floor. “Who’s in charge? I need to talk to someone who works on murders.”

Looner looked at Mad Dog from across the floor and said, “What the fuck ya sayin’? Get a lawyer! Don’t talk to nobody!”

Mad Dog smiled and said, “Don’t worry about it. We don’t need a fuckin’ lawyer. The three of us will be free by morning. I guarantee it!”

4

Sophie stared up at the ceiling of the car as she replayed what had happened. Snake had crawled in on top of her, trying to undo her pants while pinning her arms with his knees as he waved his pistol at her face. I did try to knee him in the nuts … but he was expecting it and turned sideways. Whispers to me to play dead and starts choking me so hard I can’t breathe … before smashing my nose with the butt of the gun. Then screams like I hurt him and pulls the trigger — Doesn’t make sense.

The car door opened and Sophie could hear Snake talking. She closed her eyes and realized he was talking on his cellphone. He thinks I’m dead! The bullet went through my hair … but the blood from my nose got smeared all over my face by his hand when he pushed himself out … he thinks he shot me in the face and that I’m dead.

Sophie lay still, trying to control her breathing. Despite the ringing she had in one ear, the sound of her heartbeat seemed to echo loudly inside the car. She heard Snake’s voice as he tilted the driver’s seat forward.

“Good. Let me know when it’s a done deal,” he said. Sophie heard the call end, but his phone rang immediately.

She felt a trickle of blood running down the back of her throat and into her lungs. She felt the need to cough. Her body demanded air and she willed herself not to breathe. Focus on something different. I can’t! I have to breathe!

“Oh, hi, honey,” she heard Snake say. “You just get home? Sorry I can’t talk. Have to keep the line clear so — no, wait, actually I’m glad you did call.”

Sophie tried to swallow, but let out a small cough instead. Snake quit talking! He heard me! My only chance is to grab him! She sprang to attack. Snake saw it coming and casually let the front seat drop back into place while stepping back. She was trapped. Too late to fumble for the seat release. I’m dead!

Snake looked at her and held up one finger for her to wait a moment as he spoke into the phone. “I’ve got a police woman with a broken nose … No, not Laura … No, I don’t expect you to look at it. We’re way out in Surrey … Uh, huh. Tell her to sit up and pinch the lower part of her nose for ten minutes. Got it. While she’s doing that, I’ll take her to Surrey Memorial. Listen, I should go. She’s upset. Love ya.”

What the hell? Sophie thought.

Mad Dog was placed in an interview room where he was introduced to Staff Sergeant Randy Otto and Corporal Connie Crane, both members of the Integrated Homicide Investigative team, or I-HIT, as it was more commonly known.

Mad Dog smiled with satisfaction, quickly waived his right to a lawyer, and gave a detailed statement of his plan to rob an armoured truck. He also said he bought the guns in the United States and smuggled them across the border on foot. When he finished signing the statement, he leaned back from the table and said, “Time for a little bombshell for ya. The stuff I just told you about is chicken feed.”

“Really?” said Connie, raising an eyebrow. “You think with your record that conspiracy to commit armed robbery is chicken feed?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Mad Dog smugly. “That is definitely chicken feed. Somethin’ else happened after I got away from ya yesterday.”

“Oh?” asked Connie. “What would that be?”

“A murder,” replied Mad Dog.

“We’re listening,” said Randy, sounding bored and glancing at his watch.

Mad Dog smiled. “You don’t look impressed.” He snickered and added, “That’s ’cause you don’t know who was wasted yet.” He leaned forward, savouring the moment, while drumming the fingers of both hands on the desk, waiting to hear their pleas for more information. Neither Randy nor Connie responded. The drumming slowed and eventually stopped.

Mad Dog leered silently for a moment, chuckled, and smacked his palms together, emitting a loud clap before using his hands to take an imaginary shot at Randy and Connie. “Bang! Bang! It was one of you!” he blurted out.

Neither Randy nor Connie showed any emotion as Mad Dog anxiously looked back and forth at them both for a response.

“Bang, bang?” said Randy, looking at Connie.

She shrugged in response. “We’re both fine,” said Connie.

“You guys don’t understand!” said Mad Dog. “Not you! Another cop. It just happened. You don’t know about it yet. A woman cop near some warehouses in Surrey. She was murdered. I saw the guy shoot her!”

“What do you think?” asked Connie as she looked at Randy.

“Not interested,” replied Randy.

“What the fuck?” yelled Mad Dog. “What do ya mean you’re not interested? I ain’t bullshittin’ ya. Everything in my statement is true! You let us walk and I’ll give ya a cop killer. Fuck, I could probably even call him and set him up for ya!”

“Appreciate it,” said Connie, “but after careful consideration, we’re not interested in letting you off to catch this other guy.”

Connie and Randy could no longer control their mirth, which did nothing to ease Mad Dog’s enraged response as he snarled and sputtered, demanding that a car be sent to the location where he swore the murder had taken place.

“You have never really been formally introduced to Snake, have you?” Connie finally asked.

“You already know his name!” said Mad Dog, startled that the ace up his sleeve had already been discovered.

“His real name is Corporal Jack Taggart,” said Connie. “He is an undercover RCMP officer.”

Mad Dog’s mouth hung open in disbelief as Randy pointed a finger at him and said, “Bang, bang.”

Mad Dog swallowed in disbelief. “You let an undercover cop kill another cop?”

Randy rolled his eyes and turned to Connie and said, “I want his girlfriend charged under section 153.1 of the Criminal Code.”

“What section is that?” asked Connie.

“Having sex with a person with a mental disability.”

Corporal Jack Taggart and Constable Laura Secord took several sophisticated and deadly weapons out of the hands of criminals. The catch-and-release program of the justice system saw several more offenders retagged and held again. At least for the moment.

Neither Jack nor Laura knew that the next night, a person using a cheap pistol would commit a murder that would ultimately carve permanent nightmares into their brains for as long as they each lived.

This murder involved someone not known to the police. A dedicated professional who was known only to a select few of Vancouver’s top organized crime figures. They privately referred to him as The Enabler. His real name was Kang Lee.

5

Kang Lee checked his watch as he arrived at the Avitat Lounge at the South Terminal of the Vancouver International Airport. The northern windows offered a view of the runway generally utilized by private aircraft. I’m right on time. As it should be. Punctuality is a window to a man’s character and integrity.

He adjusted the Thai-silk handkerchief in the breast of his Liana Lee cashmere silk suit: a suit he’d had tailored for himself last year after a visit to Lee’s store on New York’s Lexington Avenue. It was a gift to himself for his fiftieth birthday. With a price tag of over eight thousand dollars, it was his favourite suit. Displays elegance and grace. He knew he was partially persuaded to purchase it from Lee, because she, like himself, was originally from Korea. That they coincidentally shared the same surname was not important, as Lee is the second most common name in South Korea.

His shoes, made by Salvatore Ferragamo, were a mocha crocodile with a price tag of fifteen hundred dollars. His watch, the Leman model made by Blancpain, with its crocodile strap and eighteen-karat-gold clasp, cost considerably more than his suit and shoes combined.

His head was shaved, further accenting the one-karat diamond stud protruding from one earlobe. Although he was short by Western standards, barely reaching the height of many men’s chests, his confidence and manner exuded a strength that caused most people to instinctively make way for him.

His ensemble helped to make him feel powerful amongst men. Is it wrong to dress in a manner that demonstrates my real power? Of course not!

As he waited, he thought of the reason why his boss was coming to meet him. The number two man in their organization had recently died of a heart attack while being entertained by two women in a thermal hot springs. Not a bad way to die … if you must die. And so it comes to pass that one man’s loss is another man’s gain.

He knew he was being considered as a replacement. His only real competition was a man who worked out of their office in Palermo. Like me, he lords over a few of that country’s top crime bosses. Of course, they don’t realize it. They think we only enable them in their pursuit for wealth and power … when will they realize that we also control the strings that decide their very existence?

He brooded when he thought about his competition. In some ways, it wasn’t fair. Italy had been established with the appropriate networks dating back hundreds of years. Some families there have become multi-generational in their acceptance of graft … or the knowledge of what will happen should you refuse. It is natural that Italy would produce higher revenue. By comparison, Vancouver is brand new … I have only been here four years …

He paused to look out the window and take in the dynamics of the airport. But the potential is astronomic! He smiled. Surely it has been recognized that I have done well? I have seen that our interests are well established with smuggling immigrants, protection, heroin, ecstasy.… It is more challenging to set up new pathways. Any accounting clerk could run Palermo. My assignment demands tact and presence of mind. Convincing local syndicates that I am not competition, but someone with the connections to greatly enhance their revenue by lowering the risk of police or customs interference. It takes time. The boss must understand that?

He glanced out the window and saw his boss’s executive jet touch down on the runway. The jet was a Falcon 50EX. Its three powerful engines were capable of reaching intercontinental destinations while travelling at Mach .80. It was also designed to use backcountry airfields with shorter runways when necessary. Lee had been on the aircraft when his business called for such a backcountry rendezvous — places where customs officials were often no more than hired peasants with uniforms — people who could be bribed for as little as a bottle of whiskey or a carton of cigarettes.

He knew that his boss’s bodyguards; Da Khlot and Sayomi, would be on board the jet. I should have such people. Lee smiled, recalling Da Khlot’s nickname for his boss: The Shaman.

Da Khlot, born into a mountain tribe in Cambodia, really believed that their boss had mystical powers. Control of the spirits. Either for the good of a community … or to wreak terror. Control of anything he desired. Lee knew that shamanism was still popular in Korea as well. Usually a shaman was a woman, but not always. Perhaps Khlot is right …

The jet rolled past, its three engines screaming like banshees, as if protesting their shackled entities to the jet and their subservient existence to the man inside.

Lee caught his own reflection in the glass superimposed over the jet. Having to live in Vancouver … am I really only a big fish in a small pond? When will … The Shaman … allow me to return home and fulfill the destiny that is surely mine to —

He lurched forward as a duffle bag connected with the back of his head. A heavy-set woman hurrying past with the bag slung over her shoulder stopped.

“Sorry, kid. Are you okay?” she asked apologetically, turning around. Realizing her second blunder, she said, “I mean … sir. Sorry, I thought you were … I just caught you out of the corner of my eye. Are you okay?”

“I am quite all right,” replied Lee tersely, while straightening the neckline of his suit jacket. “Perhaps if you were more punctual, you wouldn’t have the need to rampage around the airport like a fat cow with cataracts!”

Da Khlot glanced out the window of the Falcon 50EX as it approached the terminal. He was a long way from his birthplace in the jungle of Cambodia.

Life had not been kind to Da Khlot. His fourteen-year-old orphaned mother was raped and he was an unwelcome outcome of that atrocity. He was eleven years old in February 1975, when his mother died after stepping on one of an estimated 5 million landmines left in Cambodia from a host of warring factions. It was the same year the Khmer Rouge came to power and he was promptly taken in as a soldier for that regime.

Over the next four years, the Khmer Rouge, under the command of Pol Pot, were responsible for an estimated 1.5 million deaths of their fellow citizens. A large number for a country that had a population of only 7.5 million.

Along with other newly recruited soldiers, Da Khlot was taken to open pits containing bound and captive people who had been deemed enemies of the country. He and other newly recruited children were given pickaxes and made to kill the prisoners before they were buried in mass graves. Some of these enemies were Da Khlot’s neighbours. People who fell into the category of professionals and intellectuals … or anyone wearing eyeglasses, for that matter, as they were deemed by the Khmer Rouge to be literate and thereby a threat to the new regime.

Da Khlot was told that by using pickaxes they would save bullets. In the beginning, he, along with other children, cried as much as the victims, but fear drove them to obey. Eventually the tears dried up along with any emotion he felt. Obeying came without question.

In December 1978, Cambodian forces invaded Vietnam. They were repressed and Vietnam retaliated by invading Cambodia and seizing the capital, Phnom Penh. As a result, the four-year reign of terror by the Khmer Rouge was toppled, but the resistance movement of the Khmer Rouge continued to fight on in western Cambodia from bases hidden in Thailand. The Khmer Rouge were “unofficially” aided by the Thai Army and the United States Special Forces. Diamond and timber smuggling were used to bring in money to supplement their needs.

In 1996, Pol Pot signed a peace agreement officially ending the movement. By then, Da Khlot had become a high-ranking guerrilla leader with twenty-one years of experience at torture and murder. Although he was an expert marksman, he was particularly renowned for his ability with a knife.

Da Khlot knew the spot on the back of a person’s neck in which to plunge a knife and cause instant paralysis. The victims would collapse in a heap, but their eyes revealed their horror as their brains wondered how long Da Khlot would let them live — sometimes hours, sometimes longer, depending on the impression Da Khlot wanted to make on other prisoners.

To obey and kill without question. It was all Da Khlot really knew how to do, but during the late 1990s his profession was quickly coming to an end. Many of the top Khmer Rouge leaders were being captured and imprisoned for war crimes and crimes against humanity.

It was Da Khlot’s knowledge of the smuggling routes and vital contacts that allowed him to survive in the jungles for nearly seven years. He had a rudimentary knowledge of English — the universal language of understanding in the higher echelon of a trade, where numerous ethnic groups did business together. Heroin was soon added to the smuggling list and the money was no longer being taken by the Khmer Rouge.

For a while, Da Khlot thought fate was smiling kindly upon him. Then, in July 2005, he was arrested near the Thai border by Cambodian Special Forces soldiers. Under armed escort, he was brought to a small airfield to be flown to Phnom Penh, where he knew he would eventually be executed for his crimes.

As he sat handcuffed and in leg irons in a small office awaiting transport at the airfield, he counted the number of Special Forces soldiers guarding him. Six! True, I am a large man. Perhaps even bigger than most Westerners. But six! A child with a pickaxe could do what it takes six of these men to do …

Jubilant, these men knew the prize they had caught and were taking no chances. By tomorrow, he would be front page news. Now it is I who kneels in the pit. Waiting and listening to the screams as my turn approaches. Perhaps I will be lucky enough to throw myself out of the helicopter. Cheat them of the torture of waiting.

He did not hear the expected rhythmic beat of an olive-drab Soviet-made Mi-8/17 helicopter from the Royal Cambodian Air Force arrive to whisk him away. His salvation arrived — in the form of a Falcon 50EX jet.

The impossible was made possible. A man of unlimited influence had arrived. A man capable of changing one’s destiny.

The top soldier bowed when the newcomer emerged from the jet and Da Khlot was taken from the room and paraded in front of the newcomer. Then it happened. This man, this shaman, told the soldiers they had made a mistake. Da Khlot had never been fingerprinted. Confirmation of his identity was strictly visual. At least, that was the official version, thought Da Khlot wryly. I wonder how much was paid for my release?

It was Da Khlot’s first ride in an aircraft, let alone a luxury jet. He was also given a new job. He was told he was to be a bodyguard.

Da Khlot soon learned that he was much more than a bodyguard. He was used to quietly fulfill The Shaman’s wishes in some of the countries they visited. He was of particular use in countries where guns were not available due to the annoyance of certain customs regulations.

Much like my early days as a soldier … bullets are not always available. It does not matter; I am an expert with a knife — or even a pickaxe.

Da Khlot never questioned The Shaman’s orders or why someone was chosen to enter the spirit world. Khlot lived by a motto from his days with the Khmer Rouge: To keep you is no benefit. To destroy you is no loss.

Da Khlot wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. He was seated facing the cockpit at the rear of the plane. Despite his unwavering faith in The Shaman, he was never comfortable in the air. After all, it is I who is mortal …

“Feel better?” asked Sayomi. A stifled smile betraying her amusement.

Da Khlot stared passively at Sayomi, who was sitting in another overstuffed lamb’s leather seat facing him. She is like an annoying mosquito in the jungle who finds a hole in the net over where I sleep. Why does this spoiled young Japanese woman take such delight in my discomfort?

“Ignoring me, are you?” she chided, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head.

She is beautiful … when she is quiet. Does she think she is better than me? Yes, she has a third degree black belt in kick-boxing … capable, she says, of breaking a man’s neck. But even she admits she has never killed. Who is she fooling? Herself? Her being a bodyguard is only polite address for her real function. That of being The Shaman’s mistress. Any whore could fill that role —

“Perhaps your ears don’t work so well anymore,” suggested Sayomi. “I asked if you were no longer afraid?”

“I am not afraid,” replied Khlot, staring back, his face without expression. You grow older every day. Your beauty fades with the knowledge of who you become. Perhaps soon, another young woman will catch The Shaman’s eye and he will decide that to keep you is no benefit …

Da Khlot abruptly turned his attention to The Shaman, who glanced back from his seat near the front of the plane. A slight nod from The Shaman commanded his presence.

“Don’t forget to bow,” teased Sayomi. “Otherwise the next person you may be ordered to kill for not showing respect could be yourself.”

Da Khlot ignored her as he quickly made his way forward, bowed respectfully, and took a seat across from The Shaman.

The Shaman, eyes focused on his laptop, finished reviewing the latest news posted on the Internet by Canadian newspapers; including the Vancouver Sun. Keeping up to date on the latest news from the countries he visited had become a ritual. Any articles of interest, such as pending court decisions regarding the legality of criminal proceedings or sentencing practices, were kept for reference. Over the last few years, he was constantly encouraged by what he read concerning British Columbia.

The Shaman looked gravely at Da Khlot and said, “This mission is of the utmost importance.”

Da Khlot remained stoic. Are not all of The Shaman’s missions important?

“Your duty as an observer on this mission does not mean that I have lost faith in you. Quite the opposite. Loyalty is what it is all about. Do you understand?”

Da Khlot nodded, although he didn’t really understand.

“I expect that tomorrow night you will need to wear your new suit,” said The Shaman. “Make sure you do not lose a button on the suit jacket,” he added, with a smile.

Da Khlot did not question why his new suit was equipped with a hidden video camera and a lens that looked like a button. I am but a soldier. I obey. Tomorrow night someone will die. It does not matter why.

Natasha awoke at the sound of Jack’s key unlocking the front door to their apartment. She leaned over and turned on a bedside light, before quickly brushing her shoulder-length black hair with her fingertips.

“You’re awake,” said Jack, sounding pleased, as he entered the room.

“Couldn’t sleep,” replied Natasha. “Got turned on reading a sexy article and decided to wait up.”

Jack glanced at a copy of Canadian Medical Association Journal on the bedside table. “Pretty hot stuff! Are you going to give me another night class in human anatomy?”

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“Think you can wait until I shower?”

“You’ll need another one when I’m done with — hey! That’s blood on your shirt.”

“Not mine. It’s from that policewoman with the broken nose I told you about. She’s okay, other than looking like a racoon. Now you know why I need to shower.”

“Everything go okay?”

“Yes, it went fine. Some bad guys went back to jail tonight.”

“Good. Go shower. I’ll stay awake, but don’t take too long.”

“Do you mean you’ll stay awake while I’m in the shower … or after?”

Natasha replied by throwing a pillow at him.

Jack chuckled, caught the pillow, and threw it back. Then something else caught his attention. He picked up an imitation red rose off of their dresser. Its stem and leaves were green plastic and the red flower was made from silk. The flower was extremely faded and it was obvious it had spent many years in the sun. “What’s this?” he asked, placing one hand over his heart as if overwhelmed by her thoughtfulness.

“That’s not for you! A man … it was given to me.”

“Is that a fact?” Jack raised an eyebrow and added, “Well, although it is a symbol of love, I think I should warn you, that it is imitation only. Whoever the rogue is, I suspect his feelings for you are likely about as genuine as this rose.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Natasha. “I believe his feelings are sincere.”

“Really?” replied Jack, sounding intrigued as he examined it more closely. “By a small piece of broken eggshell on the underside of one leaf, I would guess that you had breakfast with this new lover of yours?”

Natasha laughed and said, “Okay, I confess. It was under my windshield wiper when I left work.”

“A secret admirer,” said Jack. “This is getting more interesting all the time.”

“Not so secret,” replied Natasha. “A grateful patient who is too shy to deliver it personally. His name is Melvin.”

“Should I be jealous?” asked Jack, pursing his lips in an attempt not to smile.

“Depends on your performance after your shower,” replied Natasha, sounding mischievous. “And how quick you come to bed. Not to mention, as I recall, it is you who tends to fall asleep all too soon sometimes.”

“I’ll be fast,” said Jack, placing the rose back on the dresser. “Laura and I want to be at work by eight,” he added, while setting the alarm clock.

“By eight! That’s only five hours away. Can’t you sleep in a little longer? I thought you were working afternoons on Monday. I don’t go in until after lunch.”

“Sorry, hon,” replied Jack, letting out a sigh. “Our new boss starts tomorrow. Staff Sergeant Rosemary Wood. I should be there to greet her on her first day. I’ll take Tuesday morning off. I promise. I’ll even bring you breakfast in bed.”

“You better.”

Jack undressed and then disappeared into their ensuite.

“What is she like?” Natasha called after him. “Do you think she’s going to be okay?”

“Who?” asked Jack, his mind reflecting back to earlier in the evening and the look of terror on the face of a petrified young woman in the back seat of a car.

“Your new boss. Didn’t you check her out? You said she was coming in from Toronto.”

“Oh, her. I never heard her name until last week. Don’t know much about her, other than she worked on terrorism.”

Natasha heard the sound of the shower come on, but Jack yelled back, “I did hear she got in trouble over an illegal search of some office.”

Natasha caught the tone of Jack’s voice. He sounded happy. Why would that please him? She paused a moment and understood. Birds of a feather …

She rolled over and caught a glimpse of the full moon shining in around the edges of the drapes. She flicked off the bedside light and got up and opened them. It was a clear night and the moon shone brightly into the room. Definitely more romantic.

The moonlight cast an elongated replica shadow of the rose on her dresser. Lying in the shadow was a silver necklace, the moon illuminating its singular large pearl.

Jack had received the necklace as a gift from a man he once helped. Somehow, the two gifts seem to go together. She looked out at the night sky. The world can be a wonderful place. People can be so kind. So much life and beauty.

But within the next twenty-four hours, Natasha’s mood would change — when the man she cared for was beaten, kidnapped, and murdered.

6

It was quarter to eight in the morning when Jack and Laura arrived at work, but not as early as their new boss, who had arrived an hour earlier. Staff Sergeant Rosemary Wood beckoned them in to her office and introductions were made.

Jack guessed she was about six or seven years older than he was, putting her in her early to mid forties. She was tall, and judging by her build, he suspected she ran marathons. Her hair was blonde and cropped. He sensed she was studying him with some curiosity. It should have made him nervous, but the hint of bemusement on her face told him not to worry.

“Do you prefer we call you Staff?” asked Laura.

“I prefer Rose,” she replied. “Please, both of you take a seat. Make yourselves comfortable.”

“Named after Rosewood?” asked Jack, as he sat down. “That small town in Florida where the Ku Klux Klan massacred people back in the 1920s.”

Rose smiled and said, “I prefer to think my name is symbolic with rosewood, the type used in musical instruments.”

Jack smiled. Good, she has a sense of humour.

“Checking to see if I have a sense of humour, are you?” asked Rose.

Jack felt slightly taken back. Okay, lady. One point for you. He gave a quick grin in response.

“Do you two always come in so early?” asked Rose. “I’m aware that you both worked an undercover operation over the weekend and worked late last night. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“We had planned on working an afternoon shift, but thought we should honour you with our presence for your first day here,” replied Jack.

“I see,” she replied. “A couple of brown-nosers.”

Jack chuckled and replied, “If you think that about us, I suggest you ask our previous boss. He might disagree.”

Rose smiled and said, “That would be Staff Quaile. Yes, I heard about your relationship with him.”

“You’ve done your homework,” said Jack.

“It wasn’t hard. Rather curious, really.”

“Oh?” asked Jack.

“Are either of you aware of where I was supposed to be transferred to?”

“I only know that you came from Toronto and worked on terrorism,” said Laura.

“Yes. The Integrated National Security Enforcement Team, or INSET as it is called. Up until a week ago I thought I was being transferred to Commercial Crime.”

“I heard that there had been a last-minute change,” replied Jack. “I didn’t hear why.”

“I thought I was being transferred under a cloud. Back east, I was criticized by the brass for gathering intelligence at a commercial location. They said it did not meet the judicial criteria in regard to a search.”

“Searching a place after office hours without a warrant?” suggested Jack.

Rose stared at him for a moment before replying, “It seems you’ve done your homework, as well.”

Jack shrugged in response.

“For the record,” continued Rose, “my watch was wrong. I didn’t realize the office was closed for the night as opposed to an employee having stepped out for a moment. It didn’t help that someone left the door unlocked. It could have been by the same janitor who was sleeping in an office across the hall and happened upon me. It complicated matters further when he later decided to call headquarters to verify my credentials.”

“I see,” replied Jack.

“I bet you do,” she said, with a face that made Jack think she played poker. He mulled over her choice of words to describe the unlocked door. It could have been by the same janitor … meaning in theory, it could have been … but sure as hell wasn’t.

“Did they say why they changed the transfer?” asked Laura.

“That is the curious part. Last week, when I got a call from Staffing, they sounded a little miffed.”

“Miffed?” asked Laura.

“Staffing said Assistant Commissioner Isaac intervened and I was being re-routed to Intelligence. Rather unusual to have someone interfere with Staffing like that. Do you know anything about it?”

“No,” replied Jack.

“Last Friday afternoon I was called in for a short meeting with Isaac.”

“Oh, really?” said Jack, feeling like the cup of dark-roasted black Starbucks coffee he had on the way to work wasn’t such a good idea for an empty stomach.

“Yes, really,” replied Rose, staring back at him.

“Guess he wouldn’t have called you in on a day off just to welcome you to the section,” said Jack, fishing for more information.

“He welcomed me, but spent most of his time discussing you,” she replied. “I had the distinct impression he feels — well, let’s just say he feels you need a little more experience at testifying in court.”

Jack was confused. “We’re on an Intelligence Section. We’re supposed to avoid court when we can, gather intelligence, and turn the results over to the appropriate section to investigate further. They’re the ones who normally make arrests, seize evidence, and go to court.”

“I’m aware of that,” replied Rose. “However, Isaac is concerned that it is the coroner who most often receives the results of your work.”

Laura looked down ostensibly to examine a hangnail.

“Oh, that,” replied Jack, sounding casual. “There have been a couple of individuals I was working on who fell victim to the people they were associating with. Isaac once suspected I had something to do with the death of a man in Mexico. The man was someone I was working on. I happened to be in Mexico on my honeymoon at the time. Isaac looked into it and discovered that the death was the result of an accidental drowning. He apologized to me personally once he discovered his error. I’m surprised he would mention it. It was simply a coincidence.”

“So he told me,” replied Rose. “How interesting you should use the word ‘coincidence.’ He said you could be nicknamed ‘The Coincidental Corporal.’”

“What are —” Jack started to say defiantly.

“Hold on,” interjected Rose, putting her hand up for him to stop. “Laura, this is obviously making you uncomfortable. Would you mind leaving us for a moment? I’ll want to talk with you later.”

“What are you trying to say?” asked Jack, as soon as Laura left the office. “What is Isaac insinuating?”

“Oh, I don’t think he was insinuating,” said Rose, pursing her lips, eyes locked onto his.

Jack returned her gaze and decided not to respond to that comment.

“He revealed only the facts as he knew them,” she continued. “No evidence of wrongdoing on your part was noted, although he tended to overuse the phrase ‘by coincidence’ when describing you. In fact, he made it clear that there has never been any … what’s the word he used? … oh, yes … credible evidence or confirmation of any wrongdoing on your part.”

Jack sighed and took a moment to mull over what he had been told before asking, “What is he suggesting? Where do I stand with him?”

“I did get the distinct impression that it would make him happy if you brought one in alive.”

Jack nodded silently.

“You should also know I wasn’t asked to rat on you.”

“Thanks. Nice to know.”

“But he did make it clear that he goes by the book and would take immediate action if any evidence of wrongdoing came to light.”

“Fair enough. I would expect nothing less.”

Rose snickered.

“What’s so amusing?” asked Jack.

“That is exactly what Isaac said you would say.”

Ouch! “So, where do I stand with you on all this?”

Rose smiled and said, “By coincidence, I had said exactly the same thing as you — that I would expect nothing less.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” replied Jack.

Rose didn’t immediately reply, but, after straightening a pile of reports on her desk, she looked at Jack and said, “It is evident to me that the work you do is exceptionally dangerous. Considering what I heard, how is it you’ve never taken stress leave after all you have been through?”

“As per policy, I meet with the department psychologists,” replied Jack, defensively. “They continue to give me a clean bill of health.”

“So I’ve been told. You’ve never even been recommended for a brief sabbatical from undercover duties. Very unusual, considering how long you’ve been doing it.”

Jack shrugged and said, “Apparently they think I’m suited for it.”

“I know the training and selection criteria for undercover operators is good,” continued Rose. “I volunteered for it myself once, but failed to make the cut. I’ve done some minor stuff. Portraying a girlfriend the odd time, but never any real undercover operations.”

“The training for UC is pretty good,” said Jack.

“Still, it’s not that good,” replied Rose. She eyed Jack curiously and said, “Taking that into account, coupled with the continuous lack of any concern by the Force psychologists, I understand your training, or should I say, your self-preservation skills, started as a child.”

“It was my understanding,” replied Jack irritably, “that my conversations with the psychologists were to be kept strictly confidential.”

“No, you’re correct. I didn’t talk to them,” said Rose, as she sighed and her eyes softened. “I was simply speculating. As your boss, I am concerned about your emotional health as well as your safety. If you need a break, let me know. It doesn’t have to be official. It will stay between the two of us.”

“I feel fine, thank you.” Jack then added, “You’re exceptionally intuitive. I’m surprised you didn’t make it as an operator.”

“I lack the ability for fast imaginative responses in unexpected situations,” replied Rose. “I have a tendency to overanalyze. As far as being intuitive goes, thank you.” She watched Jack carefully and added, “It may help that I have my masters in psychology.”

She expected to see the usual signs of discomfort that people initially felt when they learned of her psychological training. Fear of being analyzed or having someone guess their deepest secrets. It didn’t appear to faze Jack.

“Good for you,” he replied. “Explains why you clued in about my self-preservation skills developing as a child. Your terminology was the same as the Force psychologists. It is true. When I was a child, report-card time in our house or anything to do with school for that matter, was a nightmare. As a preschooler, I would watch my father flip through a school textbook and ask my older brother questions. If he didn’t know the answer, my father would backhand him out of his chair, make him set the chair up again, sit in it, and then ask him the same question again. Not exactly the best teaching method. Explains why my brother left home when he was fourteen.”

“And then it was your turn to sit in the chair?”

“What I did, from about the time I was ten or eleven, was pretend to be mildly mentally challenged. My father believed it and I avoided the punishment that was handed down to my brother.” Jack sighed and said, “So, I guess you’re right. My self-preservation skills did start as a child. Not just learning to lie, but to watch someone, to know when they are about to strike with little warning, as my father would do. Childhood lessons serve me well in what I do now.”

Rose gave a grim smile and nodded.

“So why did you become a police officer instead of a psychologist?” asked Jack.

“Thought it would be a more hands-on approach to helping people. Why did you become a police officer?”

“I hate bullies.”

“Bullies like your dad?”

Jack nodded. “He was physically and emotionally abusive. Also a pedophile. As he grew older, he also took delight in making people angry. Guess it was another way to make himself feel powerful.”

“Wow … you seem pretty open about it.”

“It is my belief that if people would stop keeping stuff like that secret, it would save a lot of children from a lifetime of horrible problems. I didn’t find out about his pedophilia until he was practically on his deathbed. Not enough time to put him through a trial.”

Rose nodded.

Jack then made pretence of looking around the walls of her office.

“What are you looking for?” asked Rose.

“A picture of Sigmund.”

Rose smiled and said, “Personally I think Freud is overrated.”

“Carl Jung?”

“Don’t care for him, either. My doctrine is more in line with a man called Adler.”

“Good old Alfred,” replied Jack. “I agree. Jung is too spiritual for my liking.”

“You also have an education in psychology,” said Rose, meaning it more as a question than a statement.

“No. Just light reading. Clinical works of Alfred Adler.”

“You call that light reading?”

Jack shrugged and said, “It’s been awhile. I only skimmed through it.”

“The Force shrinks never had a chance with you, did they?” she said, accusingly.

Jack grimaced and said, “Their intentions are good. I believe in the program, but I warned them that many of the good operators are still fooling them.”

“You included?” she asked.

“No. Like I said, I believe in the program. I am as honest as you would be.”

“As I would be?”

Jack smiled and said, “Some things they don’t need to know about.”

“Really? Care to expand?”

“Uh, let’s see, situations comparable to a watch being faulty and an office door left unlocked.”

Rose paused. Okay, time to change the subject. “I see, well … I do want you to know that although I’m not sure why Isaac transferred me here, I am happy with it. I’m not the Commercial Crime kind of girl.” Rose paused and added, “Guess ‘girl’ is politically incorrect these days. I should say woman, but the older I get, the more I prefer girl.”

Jack smiled. “Perhaps with your background, Isaac decided you are better suited for these duties. To keep an eye on me in case I start looking for a clock tower to climb.”

“I guess time will tell, won’t it?” she said, giving a slight grin. “I anticipate that I will earn my pay. Speaking of which — better bring Laura in. I have something to talk to both of you about.”

Rose watched as Jack stepped out of her office. The Force shrinks weren’t the only ones who never had a chance with you. No wonder Isaac rolled his eyes when I asked him about the results from the Internal Affairs investigations.

Jack went across the hall to retrieve Laura. “Everything is okay,” he whispered. “I’ll fill you in later.”

Rose waited until they both returned and said, “I should let you know that my first phone call this morning was a complaint from some inspector out at Surrey Detachment.” She looked directly at Jack and said, “He told me you attacked one of his officers last night and broke her nose. Constable Sophie White.”

Jack frowned. Great way to start off … “There were extenuating circumstances,” he said grimly. “I was in an undercover situation. My notes on the matter are in my desk drawer. I can get them for you.”

“I know,” replied Rose, “I’ve read them.”

You read them? thought Jack. Note to self: watch where I leave stuff.

“I wanted to nip this in the bud before it went any further,” continued Rose. “While I was reading your notes, the second call I took this morning was from Constable Sophie White. She wanted to thank you for saving her life.”

“Oh? Well … that’s good.”

Rose remained passive.

“Isn’t it?” asked Laura.

Rose replied, “I called the inspector back and informed him that what you did was a basic undercover strategy known as the Sophie Solution.”

“You what!” exclaimed Jack.

Rose laughed and said, “Not really. Still, I’ll leave it to your imagination as to how embarrassed he was when I did call back. He wasn’t aware of all the details.” Rose leaned forward, clasping her hands on her desk before saying, “Good work last night. Both of you.” There was no doubt she meant what she said.

Jack and Laura nodded silently.

After leaning back in her chair, Rose continued, “Your report said you were originally introduced to Mad Dog through an informant.”

“That’s right,” replied Jack.

“How about the threat level to him or her?”

“The informant is safe.”

“Good enough. You seem confident about that?”

“I am,” replied Jack, quietly, in a tone that betrayed some sadness to Laura’s ears. It crossed her mind to ask him about it later, but decided against it. Jack was extremely protective about his informants. If he wanted to tell her something, he would do so without her asking.

“So what is next on your agenda?” asked Rose.

“We would still like to do a little follow-up on the guns we seized. Track Mad Dog’s phone tolls and see if we can figure out who in the U.S. supplied them to him. Might be able to tip off the Americans and have them put a stop to it.”

“Illegal guns being smuggled into Canada is a priority. Keep me up to date.”

Once back in their office, Laura said, “So? What’s your first impression of our new boss?”

“She seems okay.” Jack then filled her in on the conversation he’d had with her.

“Sounds honest,” said Laura when Jack had finished.

“There is one other thing you may wish to keep in mind,” said Jack. “Remember her comment about reading my undercover notes?”

Laura nodded.

“I keep them in my desk drawer … my locked desk drawer.”

“Oh, man. You mean she picked —”

“Must have accidentally left it unlocked,” interrupted Jack. “Like that office door in Toronto,” he added with a grin.

“I see,” said Laura, frowning. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”

“At least she’s honest about it.”

“I guess. So, you trust her?”

“Not particularly. Too soon to know, but my initial feelings are good.”

“Not exactly someone you would call a good friend yet?”

“No. She is our boss, so I don’t ever see her becoming a good friend. Her position demands otherwise.”

“But you’re my boss and I thought we were good friends?”

“Without question. But we’re also partners and don’t normally have to answer directly to Isaac. If Rose is good, I feel an obligation to protect her from knowing something she could be criticized for.”

“I hear you. So, what do you want to do now? Personally I feel like getting out of here and grabbing a cup of tea someplace. My treat. Buy you a coffee?”

Jack sighed and said, “I need to visit a friend receiving hospice care. Won’t take long. Maybe an hour.”

“Is it anybody I know?”

Jack shook his head and said, “You’ve never met her. An old informant.” Jack paused before continuing, “At this point there is no harm disclosing her identity. She’s a … or was, a hooker by the name of Ophelia.” He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before saying, “Well, not that old I guess. Cancer,” he added, for explanation. “Maybe two weeks left at the most.”

“Is she the one who introduced you to Mad Dog?”

Jack nodded and said, “I want to let her know how it went.”

“She did good, turning you on to that crowd.”

“She also turned in the guy who robbed and murdered that eighty-eight-year-old war veteran in his house last year.”

“That was the one I was on!” exclaimed Laura. “The UC where you brought me in pretending to be your girlfriend.”

“Ophelia doesn’t have anybody in her life. I owe her.”

“Want me to go with you?”

“No, but thanks, anyway. I will take you up on your offer to buy me a coffee first. Right now I could use a cup.”

Jack enjoyed his coffee break and found the light conversation he had with Laura relaxing. He wouldn’t have relaxed, if he had known that in the early hours of the following morning he would be using his 9 mm to kill an innocent victim in a back alley.

7

It was ten o’clock in the morning when Kang Lee arrived at the Pan Pacific Hotel in downtown Vancouver for a private meeting with The Shaman.

Lee sipped his espresso while seated on the balcony of the Jade Suite, located on the sixteenth floor. The Shaman, seated next to him, took a moment to gaze out over Vancouver Harbour. The view was exquisite and included the Lions Gate Bridge and the mountains.

Normally Lee would have enjoyed the view, but he had other things on his mind. Have I been selected to number two position or not?

The Shaman, still wearing the hotel bathrobe, took a swallow of freshly squeezed orange juice. After putting the glass down, he ran a hand through his thick, dyed-black hair that he kept trimmed to collar length.

The bathrobe concealed a body that Lee knew was tall, athletic, and agile. The Shaman had a passion for kenjutsu, a military art form originally created in Japan during the fifteenth century, primarily designed to instruct samurai in the use of swords. He had reached the highest level attainable in the sport, that of kyoshi, which made him a master. Overall, the muscular tone of his body, coupled with his agility and appearance, made him look much younger than he was. It was only the ruggedness of his face that betrayed his age of fifty-two.

“So, tell me,” said The Shaman, “in regard to the immigrants we have brought in, have any new pathways come to light?”

“Two new situations within the last month,” replied Lee. “A man who gained a position in Pacific Rim Oil and Gas has some valuable inside information that will benefit us greatly on the stock market. He asks that we arrange for more of his relatives to come to Canada.”

“It will be done. The other?”

“The president of another company, Eagle Eye Drilling and Exploration, is having an affair with his personal secretary. The president is married with two children. The personal secretary is a young man we brought over two years ago. Neither the president’s wife nor the company executives know that the president is gay, let alone prone to pillow talk about private company business. We have collected enough information to make the company’s next stockholder meeting extremely … shall we say, newsworthy?”

“Do you anticipate another advantage on the market, perhaps by selling short? Or will he be approached to pay by some other means for our silence?”

“The company may be on the verge of a major discovery. It is still being analyzed. I should know more within a week as to which way to approach the situation.”

“Excellent. And our other ventures … the intrepid Canadian. How is he doing?”

Lee smiled. The intrepid Canadian was Arthur Goldie, who oversaw the distribution of heroin once it arrived in Vancouver. Goldie had come a long way since he first came to their attention back in the early 1990s. That was when Goldie first wanted to import heroin from Burma to North America. Goldie had met personally with warlords overseeing the poppy plantations in Burma in an effort to extract what he thought would be the lowest price. The Shaman admired him for his courage at the time. Lee believed that Goldie was less courageous than he was naive.

Lee smiled to himself at how simple it had been to convince Goldie to pay a percentage of his profit to them. He first befriended Goldie at a hotel in Rangoon. A day or two later, Goldie was arrested at a Burmese checkpoint and his first shipment of heroin was seized. Lee stepped in as a sympathetic friend with high-level contacts. Soon, Goldie and his shipment were both on their way again.

Goldie was readily willing to pay a commission to guarantee the safe passage of future shipments. He never realized that the same people who sold the heroin also sold the information to The Shaman. It was The Shaman who paid the majority of the real salary earned by many of the police, military, and immigration officials in Southeast Asia.

In effect, The Shaman was often able to control which shipments would pass and which ones wouldn’t. In time, with the continued safe arrival of his goods in Vancouver, Goldie profited more than ever and his shipments increased in proportion, as did the commissions he paid out.

Now Goldie was no longer a micromanager. He owned a couple of antique stores, as well as a nightclub. Both types of businesses served to launder his money and to insulate him from the annoying tentacles of law enforcement. He had reached the point where he could sit back and collect commissions himself from the executive members of other crime families who also frequented his nightclub, bolstering his profit margin even higher.

“As you know by the increasingly large shipments and commissions, he is doing well,” replied Lee.

“From what I have read,” replied The Shaman, “in British Columbia that should be rather easy and relatively stress-free. Low risk and high gain.”

“There is some risk. Last year the national police, the RCMP as it is known, made several dozen arrests in regard to bikers. Many were charged with selling cocaine. The police in Canada are not as easily persuaded to turn a blind eye. Bribery is relatively rare.”

“Still, is it not true that judicial sentencing practices in British Columbia make it irrelevant? I am familiar with the arrests you mention. It will be interesting to see how long those arrested will actually spend in jail. From what I’ve read so far, it shouldn’t be long. What does interest me is that the arrests were the result of a police informer who was a member of the gang. I have heard a rumour that the courts may not accept the evidence of the police informer because he broke the law while working for the police. An abuse of process it is called.”

Lee thought about it briefly and a smile crossed his face. “If the court rules favourably, it would certainly make it easy to identify any informers in our midst. They would be unable to behave or perform their duties as directed.”

“Exactly. It is something we will follow. I wish the bikers luck.”

“Even if they are our competition?” asked Lee seriously.

“We do not sell cocaine,” replied The Shaman, with a shrug.

Lee nodded. No, not yet. When we are stronger and the time is right, then —

“So, back to Mister Goldie,” continued The Shaman. “How is his progress outside of British Columbia?”

“Through his contacts, he is opening up more distribution channels all the time. Much of Western Canada and recently Seattle are beginning to add to our investment strategy.”

“What about the eastern seaboard?” asked The Shaman. “That is where the population is based. I expected our man in Palermo to have had the contacts in New York, but the Italian mafia there has lost all honour. Respected crime bosses are arrested almost daily and continue to cheerfully sing to the police in exchange for leniency. So much for omertà. I would like to discover a new path.”

“I understand,” replied Lee. “I have approached Mister Goldie on this matter, but he indicates it is a slow process. Competitive organizations in Ontario and Quebec have been receiving their shipments from Afghanistan. I thought the lack of stability in Afghanistan would have crippled that front, but apparently not.”

“The opposite, I should think,” said The Shaman. “Heroin will be sold more than ever so that the various factions will have money for arms.”

Lee nodded politely in agreement.

“And our Chinese friend, Mister Wang, appears to be doing well?”

“Yes,” replied Lee.

Hui Wang was originally from Hong Kong, but had moved to Vancouver. His role was similar to Goldie’s, except that he oversaw the distribution of ecstasy and methamphetamine, or crystal meth, as it was known on the street. Wang had also insulated himself well and owned a restaurant and a specialty store that sold imported bamboo furniture. Both served to give him an aura of respectability, as well as launder his money.

“You have done very, very well as our emissary in Canada,” said The Shaman.

“Thank you,” replied Lee, trying unsuccessfully to read what The Shaman was thinking.

“As you are aware, there is a position I need to fill at home. It is unfortunate that my most trusted employee, in essence, the vice-president of our organization, succumbed to heart failure.” The Shaman paused to swallow more orange juice.

Lee waited. He was not offended that he was not the most trusted employee. At least, not yet. The Shaman compared their organization’s protection to the skin of an onion. Comprised of numerous layers, the closer you came to the heart of the company, the more scrutiny and tests there were to ensure ultimate protection.

The Shaman placed his glass down and turned to Lee and asked, “Would you like to return and fill that position? To once more live under the same roof as your family?”

Lee’s broad smile gave his answer before his words announced, “It is my dream!”

“Then it shall be.”

“When do you foresee this taking place?” asked Lee, trying to contain his glee and maintain the proper dignity in his voice.

“That is the problem at the moment,” replied The Shaman. “I have a candidate in mind to fill your position at the investment company, but the person I am considering is not experienced in the commodity market like you are. With the rapid expansion of our influence here, I think we need to separate the two ventures. What we need to find is a suitable replacement for you to oversee our eastern commodity distribution.”

Lee nodded. He knew the commodities referred to were heroin, ecstasy, and methamphetamines.

“Canada is a different culture compared to our European and Asian markets,” continued The Shaman. “Now that you have set up the proper framework, I think it is better to have someone who was born to this culture or has lived here for many years to replace you. Such a person would know who to recruit in Canada and would also be more familiar with their family history.”

Lee knew that “family history” meant the personal knowledge of who and where families lived — knowledge that would ensure the strict obedience of new employees if they did not wish any harm to befall their family. He thought briefly about his own wife and their two daughters. He had seen little of them since working in Canada. Of course, their safety is not an issue. My loyalty is absolute … and I have brought them great prosperity.

“Providing, of course, that such a person existed and was qualified,” continued The Shaman. “If you have a potential candidate, then I would suggest that after the appropriate security checks, some testing and training, six months would be appropriate for you to leave Canada.”

“I have such a person in mind,” said Lee.

“And would that be Mister Wang? He came to Canada as a young man, and with his associates he undoubtedly has connections across North America.”

Lee shook his head. “Mister Wang has eastern connections through the Big Circle Boys and the Sun Yee On triad, but, like Mister Wang himself, they seem reluctant to conduct business with Westerners. I do not believe Mister Wang is ready to advance to my position. In my opinion, he still associates too closely with individuals who could arouse police curiosity.”

“Do all his associates adopt gang names? Do they not realize the target they then present to the police? I know some feel the name coupled with the reputation will promote fear and inspire compliance, but the risk of identifying one’s membership to the police outweighs that advantage.”

“Mister Wang has contacts with some new gangs who choose not to adopt a name for that reason. It is a step in the right direction, but even Mister Wang admits that their philosophy of dealing only with Asians is still prevalent. I have spoken to him about it, but I am afraid that he tends to feel safe around these people. They are Asian, like him, and tend to shun Westerners. No, for what you suggest, if we are to influence the eastern market, we need a Westerner to open the door. For that, I would recommend Mister Goldie.”

“Ah, the intrepid Canadian,” replied The Shaman. “I wondered if you felt he would be worthy.”

“He has many connections,” replied Lee. “Furthermore, he has never been convicted of any criminal acts. He is welcome to travel anywhere, including the United States.”

“He is like you,” observed The Shaman, “in that you have no criminal record.”

“Somewhat different,” noted Lee with a smile. “Goldie, like Wang, controls a large gang of barbarians. The drug business is different than our other, more corporate, enterprises. Goldie and Wang did not make their way to the top by relying entirely on their intelligence. They are both personally familiar with the use of … lethal persuasion.”

“So, his resumé is different from yours in that you have never had to soil your hands with another person’s blood,” said The Shaman.

“I suppose so,” mused Lee, “but I do respect his intelligence, nevertheless. He has never been convicted and it has been years since the police even came close to catching him. And that was not in Canada. Since then, like your past analogy of the onion, he has developed many layers of protection.”

“Despite what you think, if he is to fill your position, he will not do so without proper screening, including a polygraph.”

“Most certainly. As you have taught me about the onion — the closer you are to the middle, the more intensity exists. If you do not wish to fly someone in, here in Vancouver are several firms that offer the services of lie detectors for corporations.”

“We will decide at the time, but you will mention it to him within the next few days. I will be spending a week golfing at Crown Isle in Courtenay on Vancouver Island. I hope it is as luxurious as the Internet makes it out to be.”

“I have never been there.”

“Perhaps next time I will invite you to accompany me.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, we will meet again next week before I leave Canada. I will wish to know how Mister Goldie reacts to our proposal and the security measures we require. He knows a great deal about us. If he refuses, I would see it as a serious problem.”

The Shaman’s eyes glanced through the glass window of the balcony to where Da Khlot was seated inside before adding, “Should that happen, as Mister Khlot has said, to keep him would be of no benefit.”

“I see no reason that he would refuse. I didn’t,” added Lee with a smile.

“No, you didn’t. And if all goes well, you will be stepping through the last layer of the onion yourself. The protection will be for you as much as for me.”

“He will be scrutinized carefully,” said Lee. “If he passes, would you like to meet him in person?”

“He will be your responsibility. I see no necessity for him to know my name. I’m sure that in time, with the transactions involved, he will figure it out, but I see no advantage in personal contact. His placement is your decision. I hope you have chosen wisely. Your life will depend upon it.”

Lee nodded sombrely.

“Now, this brings us to another small matter that needs to be discussed. Trivial, but requiring prompt attention.” The Shaman paused, smiled, and said, “Like peeling the onion, I hope it does not bring tears to your eyes.”

Da Khlot hurried to open the door to the balcony when The Shaman and Lee stood up, signalling an end to their meeting. Lee’s face did not portray the jubilance of a man who had been promised a promotion. His eyes appeared distant and his jaw was set with determination as he hurried out of the suite.

Da Khlot looked at The Shaman, who returned his gaze and said, “Tonight you wear your new suit.”

8

It was two o’clock in the morning when Corporal Connie Crane arrived at Coquitlam River Park, where the murder had been reported. She was the second member of the Integrated Homicide Investigative team to arrive.

Several marked and unmarked police cars lined the side of the main road, and yellow police tape sealed off a small, gravelled parking lot leading into the park. Inside the park, floodlights running on generators were being turned on, sending an array of light and shadows through the trees.

She parked behind a patrol car and approached two uniformed officers standing near the tape.

“I’m with I-HIT,” she explained, reaching for her badge inside her windbreaker. “Do you know where my partner —”

“Over here, CC!” yelled Dallas, answering her question.

Connie ducked under the crime scene tape and approached Dallas. He was a new addition to I-HIT and this was only their second case together. He was a blood-splatter expert, which was a field of expertise unto itself. CC felt he had distinguished himself on their first case and was glad to be paired up with him.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Accident on the Port Mann. What have we got?”

“Adult male, still warm. Multiple gunshots. Empty 9 mm six-shot semi-auto pistol beside the victim. Whoever did it made no attempt to hide the gun.”

“Where’s the body?” asked CC.

“Less than a minute walk along that path,” replied Dallas, pointing to a trail leading from the parking lot. “Face down beside a small creek.”

“The parking lot doesn’t look well used,” noted Connie. “Couldn’t hold much more than five or six cars. Who reported it?”

“A young couple who came to park and make out. They got into an argument and ended up going for a walk. I think what they saw took their mind off the quarrel. They didn’t see anyone and there were no other vehicles.”

“How does the couple look?”

“I don’t think they had anything to do with it. They’ve given statements. I did a quick statement analysis … appears truthful.”

“Victim a dealer? Into drugs?”

“Don’t know. He looks and is dressed like a street person. Also had a relatively fresh dressing on one hand. Looked professional. I’m betting he received medical treatment recently. I patted him down for a wallet, but there wasn’t one. No identification that I could find yet. Maybe when we print him —”

“Robbery?” said CC.

“Don’t think so. It was more like a kidnapping and execution. The guy’s hands were bound behind his back with duct tape. His mouth was taped, as well. So were his ankles, but I found a piece of duct tape in the parking lot. Looks like he managed to get most of the tape off his ankles while being transported. I think he was dragged out of a vehicle and dumped on his back on the ground. Someone tried to shoot him in the face but the bullet took a chunk out of his ear. The victim rolled in panic. I think that’s when he freed the last of the tape on his ankles and got to his feet and bolted. Later he took another bullet through his thigh, one in his back, and then one to the back of his head. The last one was at such close range that the muzzle likely touched the back of his head before the final shot. Pretty cold thing to do.”

“No shit.”

“I checked the gun. Looks like all six rounds were fired.”

“So whoever murdered him was a lousy shot. Probably missed him with two rounds altogether.”

“Could be. Something peculiar, though. The victim had a large garbage bag over his head and torso.”

“How was he able to run so far down that path?” asked Connie.

“It wasn’t the dark-green type of bag. Made of clear plastic. The type you would use for disposing of leaves and stuff in the fall.”

“Someone figured it would help eliminate DNA from their vehicle.”

“That’s what I figure. The victim was coughing up blood before he got here. The inside of the bag was sprayed from blood coming out his nose.”

“Maybe the bullet in his back went through a lung.”

“No. Wait until you see the bag. There was quite a bit smeared around inside. I think the bullet in his back was followed in short order by one to the skull.”

“What’s your guess on why he was bleeding prior to arrival? Think he was punched in the face?”

“No, it’s not a broken nose. I’ve seen this type of blood pattern before. My guess is someone took a bat or pipe to his ribcage to subdue him. Autopsy should confirm it, but I bet one of his lungs is punctured with a broken rib.”

“A tough way to die.”

“Yeah. I bet he knew it was coming. Slow and painful way to go. I’ve uncovered the route the victim took after arriving and have a theory from what I’ve seen. Where do you want to start? At the body or do you want me to show you the evidence leading to the body?”

“May as well start at the beginning. If he was bagged, I doubt that there is much blood in the parking lot.”

“There’s always some when someone is shot. Bagged or not.”

“Too dry for foot or tire tracks,” said CC, thinking aloud.

“This is the beginning as I know it,” said Dallas, pointing to an area in the gravelled lot. “You can see a double set of scuff marks in the dirt. Like a bounce followed by short drag marks that match the heels of his shoes. My guess is he was dragged out of a van by two people. If it was a car —”

“He would have been lifted from the trunk. There wouldn’t be these patterns in the gravel from being set down.”

“Exactly.”

“Thought your specialty was blood?”

Dallas smiled and said, “If you look closely, you’ll see a little blood smeared in the gravel.”

“Got it,” said CC.

“The pattern is repeated about two shoulder widths away and then repeated a third time.”

“What the hell? You’re right.”

“Let me take you through it,” said Dallas. “He was dragged backwards out of a van and dumped on the ground. Someone tried to shoot him in the face, but he likely saw it coming and moved. The first shot took out a piece of his ear and tore the garbage bag. He then rolled two complete turns, leaving blood from his ear about two shoulder widths away on each roll.” Dallas looked at CC and said, “Are you with me so far?”

“Hang on,” said CC, clasping one hand over her ear and then stepping sideways while spinning around to simulate a roll. “Got it. Explains the gap in between.”

“Exactly. And here we have a small ball of duct tape. I think he got that off while being transported and it probably stuck up inside his pant leg. He still has a short piece of it on his ankles, but I figure he was kicking in his panic. His legs broke free at this point and he got to his feet and started running.”

CC then followed Dallas a short distance down the path, where he used a flashlight to point to a new blood trail that was easily visible.

“Here is where he took one to the inside of his thigh, but kept running,” explained Dallas. “By the large amount of blood, I’m sure the bullet hit his femoral artery. If whoever murdered him hadn’t finished the job, he would have bled out pretty quick.”

CC paused to envision the nightmare. Beaten with a bat or pipe … broken rib through your lung … bound in duct tape … kidnapped and laying on the floor of some van … dragged out and shot in the face … escape while more bullets are flying … trying to run with your hands tied behind your back … shot through the thigh … staggering … unable to gasp for air through your mouth … shot in the back … face down in the dirt … feel the gun on the back of your head —

“And here,” said Dallas, waving his flashlight beam over a spray of dark red blood in a contrasting splatter against the bright green leaves on a bush beside the trail, “is where he took one to the back. See where the blood from his leg changed direction? He spun around, staggered, and went down.”

CC looked at the man lying face down along a short embankment beside a small creek.

“The killer then put the last shot into the back of his skull,” continued Dallas.

CC paused and looked around. She knew that Dallas thought she was searching for clues. In reality she was trying once more to grasp the inhumanity of the human race. She sighed and looked at Dallas and said, “Guess it leaves us with who and why. Also, who is the victim? You said you checked for a wallet?”

“I only patted his front and back pockets. Nothing. Maybe he has it in his jacket. I didn’t want to move anything until the Forensic Identification Section does their thing.”

“I want to identify this guy. I’m not going to wait for FIS,” said CC. “I’ll be discreet. The sooner we can ID him the better.” She bent over the victim and gently started to roll the body over on the side, but her attention was diverted to a shadow cast by a fern growing out from the side embankment on the other side of the body. “Dallas, over there!” said CC. “Under the fern … see it? In the shadow. There’s something there.”

Dallas pushed the fern aside and shone his light. “Bingo! We’ve got a footprint.” Dallas squatted and examined it closer. “Too smudged to match, but gives us an idea of size.”

“Maybe the couple who found him,” suggested CC.

“They said they didn’t come down off the trail. Plus she was wearing short heels and he is big. I’m betting size ten-to-twelve range. This is much smaller. Not the vic’s. Maybe a woman?”

“Pretty wide for a woman,” commented CC, turning her attention back to the body. “Hang on, hand me your light.”

Dallas passed CC his flashlight and saw her direct the beam through the front of the clear plastic bag that was still covering the head and upper torso. She then squinted, peering closer through the bloodied plastic and reached her hand inside and took out a prescription pill bottle from the victim’s shirt pocket.

“Son of a bitch,” she muttered.

“What is it? Got something?”

“Yeah, we got something all right. Do you know Corporal Jack Taggart from the Intelligence Unit?”

“No,” replied Dallas, bending over for a closer look at the pill bottle.

“His wife is Doctor Natasha Taggart,” replied CC, covering her eyes with one hand as she unconsciously massaged the sides of her temples.

Dallas paused for a moment, glancing at CC. “Do you want me to call her?” he asked.

Connie sighed and said, “No, I will.”

“What’s the problem?”

“I don’t know,” replied Connie, “but with Jack, there is guaranteed to be one.”

9

It was 3:30 in the morning when Jack awoke and answered his phone. He listened as Connie briefly gave him the details of the murder.

“And no identification?” said Jack.

“Nothing except a prescription pill bottle listing Natasha as the prescribing physician. It’s soaked in blood. The last name looks like Montgomery.”

“Hang on, I’ll wake her,” said Jack.

“I’m already awake,” said Natasha. “Overdose?” she asked, taking the phone from Jack who shook his head in response.

Natasha listened in shock and disbelief, her ears hearing the words, but her mind acting fuzzy and numb. She heard herself speak. She sounded professional, but it was as if someone else were saying the words … putting her brain on hold for the real flood of emotion that would follow moments later. She passed the phone back to Jack.

“Natasha thinks he lives in an alley close to her clinic,” said Connie. “She thinks she can recognize his sleeping bag and is willing to help us. Think you could drive her and meet us there? We want to find out where this guy was grabbed as soon as we can.”

“We’re on our way,” replied Jack. “Give me your cell number.” Jack hung up and looked at Natasha. She was sitting on the bed with her knees drawn to her chest, holding the plastic rose.

“Someone murdered Melvin,” she sobbed. “Why? Why would anyone do that? He was harmless. A gentle person. Why shoot him?”

“I don’t know. Come on, we need to get dressed.”

Minutes later, as they rode the elevator down to the parking garage, Natasha turned to Jack as anger started to overcome grief. “Why?” she demanded. “Why would anyone do this?”

“CC is a good investigator. Very thorough. If anyone will find —”

“Don’t you patronize me! I know how these things work.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Melvin isn’t some la-de-da member of society. People like him disappear all the time. Who out there really cares? I’m the only friend he had,” she added, with a sob.

“Melvin didn’t disappear. He was murdered. It will be investigated as closely as if he was the mayor.”

“Yeah, right,” muttered Natasha sarcastically.

Jack hugged her as he sighed and said, “Melvin doesn’t sound all that different from who I was visiting today — Ophelia. I told you about her.”

Natasha paused, swallowed and said, “You’re different. So am I. Who else has visited Ophelia?”

Jack grimaced and shook his head.

“Exactly. And I’m the only one who Melvin could ever turn to.”

“That may be, but CC is a good investigator. She’ll do her best to solve it.”

They drove in silence, and were almost at the alley when Natasha asked, “Is she as good as you?”

“Who?”

“Connie Crane. Is she as good as you?”

“When it comes to homicides, I bet she’s better. Homicide is her field of expertise. Mine is organized crime.”

“How do you know it isn’t organized crime if you don’t look into it?”

“Honey, come on. Think about it. What you have told me about Melvin. It doesn’t make sense to involve organized crime figures.”

“Right. Proves what I was saying earlier. All this crap about it being looked at as closely as if it was the mayor. That’s what it is. Crap!”

“I’m not feeding you crap. You know me better than that,” said Jack quietly.

They slowly drove up and down several alleys before spotting a crumpled green sleeping bag lying in a pile near the bottom of a wooden hydro pole.

“That’s it, I’m sure,” said Natasha.

“We’ll just wait in the car until I-HIT gets here,” said Jack.

Moments later, Connie was the first to arrive, and Jack and Natasha got out of their car to greet her.

Connie used her flashlight to closely examine the area while Jack stood with his arm wrapped around Natasha. Her beam caught a sheet of plastic the wind had blown against the side of a Dumpster a short distance away.

“Bet he used that to try and keep dry,” said Connie. “When the rest of the team gets here we’ll bring that in and print it for —”

The mournful cry of an animal in distress erupted briefly and went quiet.

“What the hell was that?” questioned Connie.

“That could be Winston,” said Natasha. “Melvin had a cat named Winston.”

“It sounded like it came from around here,” said Connie, walking over and gingerly lifting a corner of the sleeping bag. The sound erupted again. Louder and in more pain.

Jack, Natasha, and Connie bent down to look as Connie shone her flashlight inside the bag. Winston lay inside, his eyes blinking at the light. His head twisted and turned as he tried to get away, but his legs didn’t move.

“I’ll get him to a vet,” said Jack.

“His back and spinal cord are broken,” said Natasha. “He needs to be put down.”

“It’s only 4:30,” said Connie. “You won’t get a vet much before nine.”

Winston uttered another long low mournful sound, ending only when he sneezed and coughed up more blood.

“We think the victim was beaten with a bat,” said Connie. “Must have been when he was in his bag. Bet the cat got in the way.”

“Oh, God,” cried Natasha, standing up and returning to their car where she sat inside, holding her head in her hands and crying.

“Shit,” muttered Connie. “Tell her I’m sorry, will you? I thought as a doctor it wouldn’t affect her like this.”

“Melvin was sort of a special patient,” sighed Jack. “You’ll be here for a while. I’m going to take her home. We’ll fill you in on the details later.”

Connie watched as Jack got in the car and spoke with Natasha. Seconds later, he returned.

“Winston is in critical pain,” said Jack. “He needs to be put down. The sooner the better.”

“He howls all the more when I move him,” replied Connie.

“I know. I think you should shoot him now.”

“Me? Forget that! I’m not doing it. Besides, someone will hear the noise and call nine-one-one.”

Jack looked back at Natasha and took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I’ll do it,” he muttered.

“This is a crime scene! You can’t just go and shoot —”

“Explain that to Natasha. Besides, you’ll want Winston’s body for DNA. Maybe find his fur on the killer. Don’t worry, I won’t screw anything up.”

Connie watched as Jack retrieved a piece of cardboard and an empty plastic litre pop bottle from the dumpster. Moments later he eased Winston out of the sleeping bag and onto the cardboard and carefully dragged him over beside the wooden hydro pole.

He stood silently and looked at Natasha. She stared back for a moment before nodding.

Jack looked down at Winston and said, “I’m sorry, little guy. I really am.” He took out his 9 mm and shoved the barrel into the empty bottle and knelt down, lining up Winston’s head and using the wooden hydro pole as a backdrop.

Winston sniffed the bottom of the plastic bottle and looked at Jack. Oh, don’t do that … It’s as if you trust me, like you think I am going to help you. Goddamn it …

The bottle muffled the sound of the explosion, but it was still loud enough to cause Natasha to jerk and once more cover her face with her hands.

“I’ll take it from here,” said Connie, quietly. Jack didn’t reply and she saw him close his eyes briefly.

“You okay?” she asked.

“No, I’m not okay. I feel sick about what I just did.”

“It was the right thing.”

“What happened to Melvin and what happened to Winston was not the right thing,” replied Jack, before going back to his car.

Neither Jack nor Natasha spoke until they returned to their apartment and parked the car.

“Somebody is going to pay for this,” said Jack. His voice was almost a whisper, but his intention was clear.

It was 10:30 when Rose arrived at work. Her jaw was still frozen from an early-morning dental appointment and she was taking off her jacket as Jack entered her office.

“There was a homicide last night. An indigent person by the name of Melvin Montgomery. He was kidnapped from downtown Vancouver, tied in duct tape, and murdered in a park out in Coquitlam. I’d like to poke my nose into it a little bit.”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“Sorry. Good morning. I got your message that you would be late. How’re your teeth?”

“The ache is gone. Turns out I’ll need a root canal. So, you were saying an indigent person was kidnapped and murdered. Odd. What group do you think is behind it and why?”

“Well … to be perfectly honest, I —”

“I suggest you always be perfectly honest with me. Why are you interested in it?”

Jack paused, and said, “The victim was known to my wife. She’s a doctor and had been treating him. They found a prescription on the body. Corporal Connie Crane is the lead investigator. She called Natasha at 3:30 this morning.” Jack told her what had transpired.

“Why kidnap a homeless person and drive him all the way out there to kill him?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Melvin even had a garbage bag over his head. Connie said the weapon was a cheap Saturday night special they found at the scene. Nothing makes much sense at the moment. Maybe the victim was in line to inherit some money. So far, it doesn’t look like it.”

“Doesn’t sound like it would fit our mandate.”

“It likely doesn’t.”

“But you would like to stick your nose into it regardless? More of a favour to your wife?”

“Yes.”

“I see.” Rose was quiet for a moment before asking, “Have they traced the gun?”

“I called a few minutes ago and spoke to another investigator by the name of Dallas. He said it was made in the U.S. and owned by an elderly man in Georgia. He died of old age four years ago and his property was turned over to his son. The son said he found a second handgun purchased by his dad, but not the first one. It was never reported stolen and the family has a solid reputation in the community.”

“So, how did it end up in Canada?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I-HIT sent it to the lab to see if it has been involved in any other cases. It will take a week or two before we find out. Longer yet for the U.S.”

Rose nodded and said, “After all the other cases you have been involved with, this seems rather mundane.”

Jack shrugged. “Yesterday you told me if I ever needed a break, to let you know. Maybe this is it.”

“Do you think I-HIT would mind having you poke around?”

Jack sighed and said, “Connie might not like it. CC is good, but our paths have crossed before and she never seemed overly appreciative of the methods I used.”

“Isaac spoke to me about those cases. Perhaps Corporal Crane would have been more appreciative if you had left her someone to take to court, rather than someone hauled off in a body bag.”

“That —”

“I know. Was a coincidence.”

“Exactly,” said Jack, feeling uneasy.

“Does the victim have any personal relationship with anyone you know, other than being treated by your wife on a professional basis?”

“No. My wife took it hard … losing a patient. She felt sorry for him, but that’s it.”

“Well, as you obviously know, gun smuggling into Canada is a top concern. The seizure of the weapons that you and Laura were responsible for over the weekend illustrates the need for our involvement. Would you be content to limit your field of investigation to the gun for the moment and let I-HIT handle everything else? Until such time, of course, that circumstances or information indicates otherwise?”

“Definitely,” said Jack, with a smile. “Do you think you can convince the powers that be that a Saturday night special falls in our mandate?”

“Leave that to me. Do you know Connie Crane’s boss? What is he or she like?”

“It’s Staff Sergeant Randy Otto. In a nutshell, I’ll tell you what I know. He’s a good guy. Very experienced policeman. Cares about his people … but is also the type to see the big picture. The only bad thing I can say about him is he prefers Scotch over martinis and demands that the Scotch not be pedophilic.”

“Pedophilic Scotch?”

“Has to be well-aged,” replied Jack with a grin.

“Sounds like you know him well.”

“Got to know him over the murder of a Vietnamese girl. I really respect him.”

“I’ll give him a call first, then mention it to the brass after. It would also be helpful if you could find out the proper description of the pistol. I doubt that the brass would know the difference between an Uzi and a wobbly Webley, but describing it as a ‘Saturday night special’ won’t exactly impress them.”

“I already asked. It’s a 9 mm six-shot semi-automatic made by Bryco Arms in the U.S. Bryco used to be well known for making the most Saturday night specials used by criminals. They sold for under fifty bucks. A lawsuit in 2003 finally put them out of business.”

“Good. That sounds better. So we’ve got a weapon from a notorious gun manufacturer in the U.S. catering to criminals, and now has been used to commit a murder in Canada. Don’t worry, I won’t have any trouble pitching it. You get any flack, direct it my way.”

“Thanks, Rose. I appreciate this.”

“No problem.”

Jack was leaving when Rose said, “Jack!” She waited until he turned to face her before lowering her voice and saying, “If you solve it, I’d appreciate it if the bad guy makes it to trial.”

Jack nodded quietly and left.

Two hours later, Jack and Laura received a visit to their office from Connie Crane.

“Okay, Jack! What the hell gives?” she shouted as she strode in.

“Hi, CC. Haven’t you gone to bed yet?” replied Jack.

“Don’t give me that shit! I talked to Dallas. Why are you sticking your face into my homicide?”

“Because I told him to,” said Rose, walking in behind her.

Jack quickly made introductions and CC cast a suspicious glance at Jack before turning to Rose and saying, “Why? What business is it of yours?”

“International gun smuggling,” replied Rose.

“International gun smuggling!” replied CC. “Jesus, this is just kids! Not organized crime!”

“Kids?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, we found a footprint made by the perp. Not clear enough to match to a shoe, but from the size of it, we think it was a young teenager. We’ve already got the school liaison officers checking out the youth gangs.”

“The gun was left at the scene,” said Jack.

“So what?” replied CC.

“Most kids would value a handgun. Dropping it at the scene is something a pro would do.”

“A pro? That’s a laugh. Sounds like you need some sleep. This is just some kids who used a cheap pistol to whack a wino. A thrill kill, that’s all.”

“A thrill kill?” replied Jack. “Why drive him all the way out there for that? Except for the victim, the hit matches a lot of organized crime type hits.”

“Organized crime! Get off it! This isn’t The Sopranos! I don’t see what business it —”

“Cool the attitude,” said Rose quietly. “We are all on the same team. Gun smuggling from the U.S. into Canada is a major concern. Perhaps you aren’t aware of it, but our office was instrumental in seizing several automatic weapons last weekend.”

CC paused and said, “Sorry. And yes, I’m aware of that case. Randy and I talked to Mad Dog about it after he was arrested.” She glanced at Jack and Laura and added, “Good going, by the way.” She turned to Rose and said, “But this is different. No Mac-10s and Uzis here.”

“Maybe you’re right,” said Rose. “But if it is a juvenile gang, let’s put a stop to them before they do become The Sopranos. I really don’t see what the problem is.”

CC eyed Jack suspiciously. With you, there is always a problem.

“Our office will concentrate on following the trail of the gun and your office can handle everything else,” continued Rose.

“Okay,” sighed CC. “You work on the gun. Good luck. I think you’ll find it to be a dead end, but if you do discover something, I expect to be notified immediately.”

“Naturally,” replied Jack. “By the way, Dallas told me Melvin had a clear garbage bag over his head and upper torso. Kind of unusual.”

CC pulled up a chair to sit in while Rose perched on the corner of Jack’s desk.

“Kids watch a lot of CSI these days,” replied CC. “Maybe they thought it would stop us from finding any DNA in their van.”

“Van?” asked Rose.

“No witnesses to anything, or tire tracks. We’re guessing he was hauled out of a van by the way his heels were dragged in the parking lot.”

“Why would anyone kill Melvin?” asked Laura.

“Kids … no conscience,” replied CC. “Probably their way of getting an adrenaline rush.”

“You seem certain that it was kids,” said Jack.

“We’re checking into the possibility that it was someone who knew him, but it doesn’t look like it. The cheap pistol found at the scene was sold to some guy in the States who didn’t have a record and has since died of old age. I meant it when I said good luck on finding anything out about it.”

“We’ll give the gun a shot,” replied Jack.

“I’m so tired, I actually think that is funny,” said CC. “But I’m sure we’ll discover the murder is connected with a youth gang. Kids won’t keep it a secret for long. Eventually somebody will talk.”

“Yes, or eventually someone else will be murdered,” suggested Jack.

“Yeah, well, there is always that possibility,” said CC, getting up to leave. “Nice to have met you, Rose. Sorry if I sounded off before. I haven’t had much sleep.”

Jack followed her into the hallway and said, “Listen, CC. I don’t have any intention of looking over your shoulder. I only want to help out a bit.”

“Help out a bit? Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Can you blame me for being a little paranoid? Last night I find Natasha’s name on the victim. An hour later I watch you kill a cat at the crime scene. Speaking of which, that really shook you up, didn’t it?”

“It bothered me,” admitted Jack.

“I know. You were shaking afterwards.” Connie shook her head and said, “You’re a hard guy to figure out sometimes. Which is why I’m not exactly ecstatic that you’ll be part of the investigation. I’ve been down this street before and it wasn’t pretty.”

“This is different. All I want to do is lend a hand. If I can trace the gun it might help.”

“So you don’t know Melvin Montgomery? Never met him?”

“No. He was only a friend of my wife.”

“A friend?”

“I mean, patient,” Jack hastened to say.

CC gave Jack a hard look. Oh, fuck.

10

The next week drifted past with Jack and Laura getting bits and pieces of the information they sought through the police in Georgia in an attempt to track the pistol. There wasn’t much. They learned that the gun was bought new eleven years ago by a man who lived in Savannah Beach, Georgia. The man had no criminal record and was sixty-four years old when he bought the gun. Records showed he bought a second handgun two years later — a Smith & Wesson revolver.

The revolver was now owned by the man’s son and he was interviewed by the police. The police learned his mother died of ovarian cancer when his father was sixty-seven. Four years ago his father died of a heart attack and the son inherited all of his father’s belongings. The son said he only found the Smith & Wesson in his dad’s belongings and had no idea what happened to the other pistol. The police said the family was respected in the community and they believed the son was telling the truth.

“What do you think?” asked Jack when Laura finished reading the report they had received from Georgia.

“Doesn’t look good,” replied Laura. “I wonder what prompted him to wait until he was sixty-four to buy a gun? Bet his house was broken into,” she added.

Jack shook his head. “No, I checked. He lived there all of his life. No reported break-ins before or after his gun purchases.”

“Joined a gun club?” suggested Laura.

“Not that, either. I do have another theory.”

“Which is?”

“He bought it shortly before turning sixty-five. What do a lot of people do when they turn sixty-five?”

“Retire, buy the biggest car they can find, and drive it slowly up and down the street in busy traffic.”

“Exactly!” replied Jack.

“You mean I’m right? What’s that got to do with it?”

“They retire and travel. They’re Americans. Think about it. Remember that motto from an old TV Western? ‘Have gun, will travel’!”

“Guess I’m not that old, but I get your point. And when he was sixty-six he bought a second gun because —”

“He lost his first one or it was stolen. But why didn’t he report it?”

“Because he brought it someplace where he wasn’t allowed to bring it?”

“That’s my guess. I’m going to call the son myself.”

“Today’s the fourth of July. American Independence Day. He might be home.”

Laura listened as Jack dialed and then spoke.

“Yes, sir. That’s right. A Mountie from Canada.… Yes, I know the police spoke with you … no, actually I’ve never ridden a horse … yes, I’m a real Mountie. … Thank you, I like to think my English is pretty good, too. It is mostly only one province, what you would call a state, that speaks French.… Um, about seventy Fahrenheit right now … no, I’m not spoofing you …”

Laura watched as the conversation continued and listened to Jack when he asked the questions he wanted answered.

“A motor home, did they? To Niagara Falls, Canada, in early September … ten years ago.” Jack smiled and gave Laura the thumbs-up sign. “I see, well, that is unfortunate. I hope it didn’t ruin the rest of their holiday.”

When Jack hung up, he gave Laura the details she had already heard, plus he said, “They only stayed one night in Niagara Falls because someone vandalized their motor home. He said they were upset about it and returned to the States the next day.”

“In other words, if whoever did it got caught with their gun, they didn’t want to be around to face the music.”

“You got it. He remembered asking them if anything had been stolen and said they were a little vague about that.”

“So we have a pretty good idea on how the gun arrived in Canada,” said Laura. “Now what?”

“Start tracking down places where you would stay with a motor home in Niagara Falls and see if there are any records of break-ins ten years ago. Other people could have been robbed and reported it. Maybe there were suspects or arrests.”

“Heck of a long shot. Also not what you would call organized crime.”

“I know, but Natasha is afraid it will fall by the wayside. I promised her I would look into it. Besides, I think we both could use a bit of a break from —” Jack stopped to answer his phone. It was CC and he quickly jotted down notes as he spoke with her.

— Ten years ago (September) gun used in a coffee-shop robbery in Regina. Bullet fired in ceiling.

— Nobody hurt. Small amount of $ taken. Suspect in his 40s, wearing ball cap, swarthy complexion — mole below left eye.

— Four years ago (August), a suspected drug dealer (Bernie Wingham) in Trail, B.C., was shot in the knee at his house. Bernie would not co-operate with police. No suspects.

— Two years ago (April), gun used in a mugging in Vancouver. Two men tried to rob an employee of an antique store of the day’s receipts when he stepped out to go to the bank. Victim shot through the arm. Bullet went through a window of a restaurant halfway down the block and lodged in a wall. Police were inside having dinner. Suspects got away in a car with stolen plates. Both with collar-length black hair, tall, early 20s.

— Same gun used to murder Melvin M.

“So, somehow I think the gun ended up in the hands of some kids,” said CC in conclusion. “I’ll send you copies of the reports I have on what I just told you. Maybe it was someone’s older brother who tried to rob the antique store.”

“Wasn’t this Bernie character in Trail re-interviewed after the antique store mugging?” asked Jack. “It sounds like blind luck that he didn’t get killed.”

“He was re-interviewed, but wouldn’t co-operate. Too afraid. Four years ago he was growing and selling pot. The members in Trail think he’s gone straight. He has since married and has two toddlers. The guy hobbles around with a permanent limp. I guess he counts himself as lucky to be alive.”

“So, now that he is married, he is even less likely to risk talking.”

“For sure. I just got off the phone with one of the members in Trail who tried to talk to him last time. Basically had the door slammed in their face. Now that the gun was used in a murder, I’m not optimistic that it will alleviate his fear at all. I guess we could try again but I think we’re wasting our time.”

“Do you mind if Laura and I try?”

“Fill your boots.”

“Does Bernie still live in the same house as when he was shot?”

“Yes. The member mentioned that the house used to be a junk heap, but now that Bernie is married, he actually has a white picket fence and flower beds. Why? What are you thinking of?”

“I’m thinking I’ve been drinking too much.”

The following day, it was suppertime when Jack and Laura approached Bernie Wingham’s house in Trail.

Jack did up the top buttons of his golf shirt on the way to the house and whispered, “How do I look?”

“Like you’re on your way to church,” replied Laura.

“Good, I’ll ring the bell and be right back.”

A moment later, Bernie’s face appeared in the door window. He saw Jack and Laura facing each other at the bottom of his porch steps and opened the door.

Jack was talking quietly and solemnly to Laura, but his words could be overheard. “God grant us the serenity to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

“It’s time,” replied Laura, glancing up at Bernie. “I’ll wait here. Go do it. Your eighth step.”

“What are you guys? Jehovah Witnesses? I’m not interested!” said Bernie through a half-opened door.

“Bernie, no, wait!” said Jack.

“You know my name? Who are you?” asked Bernie, limping out onto his porch. “What do you want?”

“I came to make amends,” said Jack, walking up the stairs to meet Bernie. “It is an important step in the program.”

“Amends for what?” asked Bernie. “What program?”

“My name is Jack,” said Jack, offering his hand.

“I said what do you want?” asked Bernie, ignoring the intended handshake.

Jack sighed and looked to Laura as if for support. She nodded encouragingly, and he turned to Bernie, and said, “I’m an alcoholic. I’m in recovery.”

“What the hell does that have to do with me? Did my wife put you up to this?” he asked, glaring back into the house.

“No. This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I came to apologize.”

“For what?”

“It was my idea to have you kneecapped four years ago.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” roared Bernie.

“Please, let me explain,” pleaded Jack, after giving Bernie a few seconds to recover. “I used to drink a lot back then.”

“Maybe you drank too much … because I don’t ever remember seeing you before,” said Bernie suspiciously. “And who’s she?” he asked, with a nod toward Laura.

“She’s my sponsor.”

“Yeah? For her, I’d join AA myself.” Bernie then glared at Jack and said, “I’d definitely remember her … and I ain’t never seen you before, either.”

“You probably haven’t. I scored some weed once from a guy who made me wait in the car while he came to see you. Later, I got to thinkin’ that you must have a lot of money.”

“So you put Angelo and Dominic up to it?”

“I was so drunk back in those days, I hardly remember much.” Jack looked around at the yard and said, “I wasn’t even sure if it was the right place. Somehow I thought it looked different. I don’t remember the fence.”

“How did you know them?”

“Know who?”

“The brothers. Angelo and Dominic. How did you know them?”

“Is that their names? I don’t even remember. I met them in a bar and one thing led to another. As I recall, I thought they may have already known you.”

“Yeah, they did. But … you’re telling me that it was your idea to rob me?”

“Sorry about that,” said Jack, hanging his head in shame. “I didn’t think anyone would get hurt. I stood six and was supposed to beep the horn if the cops were coming. It seemed like a good idea when we were drinking.”

“Jesus Christ,” sputtered Bernie. “Do you know I’m forever gimped now?”

“I didn’t know, man. I’m really sorry. Guess I should find Angelo and Dominic and apologize to them, too. I remember stealing their car radio a few days later.”

“You what? Jesus, you’re lucky they didn’t kill you.” Bernie paused and muttered, “Fuck, I should never have told you their names.” He cast a worried look at Jack and said, “Forget about them if you want to stay alive.”

“Stay alive? Why? Are they dangerous?”

“Dangerous! What the fuck do you think? Look at my leg!”

“Oh … yeah.”

“Not only that, the cops were around a couple of years ago, asking questions. The same gun was used to shoot somebody in Vancouver. More than that, two years ago Angelo and Dominic killed some guy in Vancouver.”

“With the same gun?” asked Jack.

“Nope. Sliced him up instead. I don’t think the cops ever did connect them with the gun.”

“Who did they kill two years ago? What guy?”

“Don’t know, but the cops have been looking for them for that. Let’s just say that Angelo and Dominic aren’t the forgiving type and wouldn’t appreciate being found. My advice is to keep your yap shut and get the fuck off my porch.”

“So, you forgive me?” asked Jack, giving himself a self-satisfied smile.

Bernie’s face turned red and he said, “Do I look like I fuckin’ forgive ya?”

“Oh … guess not. Sorry, I thought you did because you warned me about Angelo and Dominic.”

“I don’t give a fuck about you! I just don’t want you to do something that might bring Angelo and Dominic back to see me.”

Jack hung his head and turned and walked back down the steps while Bernie glared at him from the porch. Laura placed her arm around Jack’s shoulder to console him as they walked back to their car. In reality, she hoped that the shaking of their shoulders from snickering would be mistaken for grief.

“Hope ya end up back on the bottle!” yelled Bernie, as they drove away.

Twenty minutes later, Jack and Laura met with Constable Sarah Hundt in the Trail RCMP office. Sarah knew immediately who the brothers were. “There are Canada-wide warrants on them for murder,” she said. “Going back two years. Their mom still lives in Trail. We’ve still got their photos up on the bulletin board. Hang on and I’ll get them and pull the files.”

Like both their parents, Angelo and Dominic had lengthy criminal records with numerous offences for violence, robbery, and possession of stolen property. A Vancouver RCMP Drug Section informant had linked them to the torture and murder of a high-level heroin dealer in Vancouver two years prior. The heroin dealer bled to death from multiple slash marks made by a knife while he was tied to a chair. A search was made for the brothers, but they had vanished and the informant was unable to obtain any further information.

“Two years ago was about the same time that gun was used to rob an antique store,” commented Jack, while reaching for his own file to cross-reference when the antique store was robbed. He felt a rush of excitement as he compared the details. “The heroin dealer was killed on the same day and only a couple of hours before the robbery of the antique store!”

“That’s no coincidence,” said Laura.

“You’ve got that right,” replied Jack. “I’m betting the torture of the dealer was to get info on something. Either money or dope. The owner of that antique store was not an innocent victim. They wouldn’t have had to torture someone for that. Angelo and Dominic were after him for a lot more than the day’s income from the store.”

“We need to find Angelo and Dominic,” said Laura, turning to Sarah. “Where does their father live?”

“He died six years ago, drunk behind the wheel,” replied Sarah. “They didn’t have any other kids except Angelo and Dominic. The mom still lives in town.”

“So Dad died and the kids got the gun to carry on the family business,” said Jack.

Laura nodded in agreement.

Jack pointed to a file in front of him and said, “The mother, Giorgetta, her record includes convictions for prostitution in Hamilton, Ontario.”

“Hamilton … practically next door to Niagara Falls,” replied Laura.

“Angelo and Dominic’s criminal history is all in B.C., but the parents’ criminal history is largely out of southern Ontario,” noted Jack.

“When did the family move to Trail?” asked Laura.

“Our first record was a noise complaint ten years ago,” replied Sarah.

“Do you still have a picture of the father?” asked Jack.

Sarah nodded, then dug through a file and handed Jack a picture. Jack smiled and handed it to Laura. A mole was clearly visible under the father’s left eye. “We’ve solved who robbed the coffee shop in Regina,” he said.

“So that was when the family was moving west and picking up money for their travelling expenses,” replied Laura. “So, where to now?”

“Took us all day to get here and tomorrow will be wasted getting home. Let’s make it two for one and knock on another door. With Giorgetta’s background and desire to protect her sons, she’ll be paranoid, but we have nothing to lose.”

Jack and Laura both smiled at Giorgetta as she peered out a side window of her house before opening the door.

“Hi,” said Jack. “We’re friends of Angelo and Dominic. Are they around?”

“My boys don’t live here no more,” replied Giorgetta, suspiciously. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“We’re friends of theirs. Met them in Vancouver a couple of years ago before I moved to Cranbrook. I owe them some money for some stuff they gave me to fence … I mean, sell, in Cranbrook. They gave me your address and said I could always contact them through you.”

“Yeah? Is that a fact? When did you last talk to them?”

“Sometime last fall when they called me. They didn’t say much on the phone, but are anxious to get the money I owe them. I’ve got it now.”

“You’re a fuckin’ liar!” replied Giorgetta, spitting out the words.

“What?” replied Jack in surprise, while wiping his face with the back of his sleeve.

“You’re a fuckin’ liar! My sons have been dead for over two years!” She looked at Jack in disgust and said, “You fuckin’ cops … they may have been troubled boys, but they always called on Mother’s Day, even when they were in jail. They haven’t called in over two years. I know they’re dead. So, fuck off, cops!”

11

It was mid-morning on Thursday when Kang Lee spoke briefly with The Shaman as they walked toward the Avitat Lounge at the South Terminal of the Vancouver International Airport. Da Khlot and Sayomi trailed behind, out of earshot.

“I wish you a pleasant flight,” said Lee. “I look forward to the day when I shall accompany you home.”

“The day will arrive soon enough.”

“With Mister Goldie’s eagerness to fill my position, perhaps it could be sooner than six months? He is intelligent. I am sure he will learn fast.”

“And Mister Wang? Any indication that he was unhappy because he wasn’t chosen?”

“Not at all. He is happy in his own pond and agrees that Mister Goldie is better suited. In fact, when I met with them both, Mister Goldie displayed dismay at being slow in developing the market back east. Mister Wang volunteered that a couple of his associates would be moving to Montreal and might later be in a position to assist Mister Goldie. Their spirit of co-operation with each other and our organization appears to be good.”

“And what about Mister Goldie’s replacement? Do you think Mister Wang is capable of handling both functions?”

“No, Mister Wang indicates that he is busy enough. However, Mister Goldie says he has several reliable people in mind to choose from who would be suitable.”

“People he says are reliable depend upon his own reliability,” said The Shaman.

“He did not hesitate when I told him he would be required to take a lie detector test.”

“And, I presume, with the knowledge he will have acquired about our corporation, he knows what would happen should he fail such a test?”

“He does.”

“Still, Mister Goldie is not a family man. Something I consider an important asset to ensure loyalty. With him, I foresee an annual lie detector evaluation, combined with further assignments to ensure his sincerity. In the meantime, six months is not long. Haste brings mistakes. You must be absolutely certain he is the right man for the position before you vacate it. If he is not the right man, then we will find a new one. I would find no fault with you should such a decision be necessary prior to the six months.”

Lee nodded quietly.

“I know you are anxious to return to your family.”

“That is true,” lamented Lee.

“You know they will continue to be watched and well looked after. I recognize that you have worked hard. Your family has been rewarded accordingly. Do not spoil what you have,” added The Shaman with a subtle glance behind him, “by making a mistake.”

“I understand,” replied Lee, envisioning Da Khlot’s expressionless dark eyes watching his own family. The family he longed to be with.

It was late Friday afternoon when Laura dropped some documents onto Jack’s desk. “Your theory may be right,” she said. “Company checks — take a look.”

Jack looked at the documents and saw that two antique stores were owned by an Arthur Goldie, who also owned a Vancouver nightclub called Goldie Locks. It was Goldie’s employee who had been shot in the arm two years ago. Neither the employee nor Arthur Goldie had any criminal record.

“I talked to the narcs,” said Laura. “They told me they currently have an ongoing undercover operation targeting heroin at the ounce level. Last week, one of the operators bought a quarter-pound from a dealer by the name of Jojo. The narcs followed him after the order was placed and he went to the Goldie Locks nightclub for a few minutes. He then met the operator an hour later at a McDonald’s restaurant and did the deal.”

“Did they see who Jojo met in the nightclub?”

“They said he met with numerous people. The narcs couldn’t tell who was involved with the deal.”

“Could be a coincidence,” said Jack. “Maybe Jojo went to see who was around to party with him after his sale.”

“You won’t think it’s a coincidence after you read these next reports,” said Laura, handing Jack some more papers.

Jack scanned the reports and saw that Goldie Locks nightclub had come up in numerous wiretaps and drug investigations over the years as a common meeting spot for several high-level heroin dealers, including the heroin dealer tortured and murdered by Angelo and Dominic.

“Love it!” said Jack, with a smile. “Too big of a coincidence for Angelo and Dominic to torture a drug dealer and rob an antique store later the same day. Especially when both places are owned by the same person. In my books, Arthur Goldie is dirty.”

“Proving it will be another story,” said Laura.

“Angelo and Dominic tried to rob some people connected to the big league,” mused Jack. “My guess is the antique store employee is, or was, a money bagman for the organization. In fact, with him making the store’s deposits, you can bet that his real job is to transport drug money. Our two Italian brothers found out that the dealer they tortured had just done a deal. Maybe they were hired for protection by whoever was doing the buying. Bet they grabbed the dealer later and when he didn’t have the money, they tortured him to find out who did. The dealer then gave them the name of the bagman from the antique store.”

“You could be right on that account,” said Laura. “I agree we could be on to something big as far as drugs go, but how did the gun used by Angelo and Dominic end up being used to kill Melvin? And why?”

Jack paused as he scanned the reports again, hoping an answer would jump out at him. It didn’t. “I don’t know,” he said. “If the brothers are dead … and after talking with dear old mom, I tend to think they are, then —”

“Maybe she lied and said they were dead so we would stop looking.”

“Didn’t get that sense, did you?” asked Jack.

“No,” admitted Laura. “She seemed genuine. Plus the brothers aren’t all that bright. If they were alive, I think they would have been located.”

“I agree. Following that logic, I think they’re dead because of who they tried to rob. Their bodies haven’t been found, which means whoever killed them may have inherited the gun. If their bodies were dumped in an alley, then anyone could have come along and picked over the remains like vultures. We need to find out who killed them.”

“Any ideas how?” asked Laura.

“Find the employee from the antique store and put a bullet through his other arm. See who comes after us.”

Jack saw Laura’s concerned look and quickly added, “Don’t take me seriously! I’m joking.”

“Oh, man. Good … I wasn’t sure. It’s hard to tell with you.”

Jack chuckled and said, “Of course I was joking.” Then his face became serious and he said, “You know, it would probably work.”

“Jack!”

Jack grinned and said, “Okay, okay. Plan B. How about we look at Arthur Goldie and his businesses and see if we can confirm our suspicions?”

“Shake the tree and see who falls out. Get an informant or something. Maybe the narcs will help out.”

“Exactly. Even if we are off base on who killed Melvin, either way, these guys could be good targets. I’ll talk with Rose and let —” Jack stopped to answer his cellphone. It was a nurse from the hospice.

“Appreciate ya comin’,” said Ophelia, staring up from her hospital bed at Jack. Her normal raspy voice sounded even worse. She tried to wiggle to a better position, so he adjusted her bed to raise her upper body, but suggested she lay still while he pulled up a chair.

“I should have come here sooner,” she said. Her voice crackled as she spoke, making her words difficult to hear. “The morph’ they’re giving me isn’t bad.”

“That’s good,” replied Jack. “Have you managed to steal any so you can sell it on the street later?”

A smile flittered across her face before she became serious. She stared at Jack for a moment before saying, “Guess you know this is the last time you’ll have to come and visit.”

“I don’t have to come here,” said Jack. “I’m here because I want to be here.”

“Yeah, well, I appreciate it. You being a cop, too. Go figure.”

“You’re not a bad person, Ophelia,” said Jack. “You’re sick, but you’re not bad. I’m sorry that life dealt you the hand it did.”

“Win some, lose some.” Ophelia coughed several times and briefly nodded off. A minute later she awoke with a start, perhaps afraid that she wouldn’t awaken. She was relieved to see that Jack was still there. “Lucky I’m dying in here rather than out on some pig farm. Things could be worse.”

Jack nodded, but for Ophelia he knew that things were never a lot better, either.

“So, how come you do come to see me? You don’t owe me nothin’.”

Jack looked intently at Ophelia and said, “I respect you for the kind of person you are. You’re the type who worries about people. For the kind of life you’ve had, it would be easy to use it as an excuse, but you don’t.”

“There’s somethin’ you’re not tellin’ me.”

“You’re a good person.”

Ophelia blinked her eyes a couple of times and said, “Thanks for seein’ me.”

“It’s no problem seeing you. My office isn’t that far away.”

“I don’t mean that. I mean for seein’ me.” Ophelia coughed some more, but didn’t take her eyes off of Jack’s face. She knew he didn’t understand. “Let me tell ya somethin’,” she said. “My last day on the street before you brought me in, I was feeling pretty sick. Just leaning against a doorway, too sick to turn a trick. Some lady walked past me with a boy, about five years old. The boy could tell I was sick and said, ‘Look, Mommy!’ The lady gave me a disgusted look, you know, like I was a pimple on the ass of society. Then she said, ‘Don’t stare, honey. That’s just nobody.’”

Jack stared at Ophelia, putting himself in her place.

“Guess what I’m tryin’ to say,” continued Ophelia, “is people who got it don’t give a shit about people who don’t. We’re nobodies.”

“I think you’re somebody.”

Ophelia’s face softened and she looked at Jack and said, “I’ve seen that in you. You’re different than most people. Guess what I’m asking is why?”

Jack swallowed, not sure how to respond.

“Come on,” prompted Ophelia. “I’m gonna croak before morning. It ain’t like I’m gonna tell anyone.”

Jack took the time to take a deep breath and then slowly exhaled. When he finished he said, “I had a sister who died of alcoholism — although that is like saying a bullet killed you instead of the person who pointed the gun at you and pulled the trigger.”

“So, who pulled the trigger?” asked Ophelia. “Your father?”

Jack nodded and said, “You’re pretty perceptive.”

“Perceptive!” snorted Ophelia. “Try experienced.”

Jack sighed and said, “Well, you’re right. Amongst other less than desirable traits, my father was a pedophile. When my sister escaped from home, she lived alone in a grubby trailer and was always taking in stray animals to look after. A friend of mine once saw her on the street and thought she was a homeless person. Basically, she was.” Jack stared at Ophelia for a moment, before acknowledging, “Maybe she is one of the reasons I look at some people differently. I don’t know. Some days I feel like I’ve seen too much suffering. Too much injustice.”

Ophelia reached toward Jack’s hand, so he leaned forward so she could hold it. Her grip was firm, but her flesh felt cold. Her organs were shutting down, including her heart.

“Thanks for telling me,” said Ophelia. “It was something I was always curious about. Helps explain why you let me get away with settin’ that guy up to be whacked with a tire iron that night.”

Jack shrugged and said, “That guy was going to turn a trick with a twelve-year-old kid. I don’t feel bad about letting you get away with it because of who you are inside. You’ve made a few slip-ups here and there. Who hasn’t? We’re all human. But in my books, you’re somebody. Somebody who made a positive difference in this world.”

He realized her grip on his hand had loosened. She was dead.

He never knew if she heard his last words or not.

12

It was Monday afternoon and the meeting in the boardroom was attended by investigators from I-HIT, the RCMP Drug Section, and the Intelligence Unit.

Jack and Laura gave an account of their findings, leading up to their theory about what happened to Angelo and Dominic.

CC rolled her eyes and said, “Thanks, Jack. I knew bringing you into this would add to the body count. Now you’re telling me that it’s not only Melvin Montgomery who was murdered, but you’re saying we’ve got two more bodies out there that we haven’t found yet?”

“Sorry about that,” replied Jack.

“Ah, it’s okay,” replied CC. “Was just spoofin’ ya. The both of you did good. Filled in some missing pieces of the puzzle. And as far as the bodies go, if there are any, unless we end up finding them on our turf, it could be Vancouver PD’s responsibility. I’ll bring them up to date on it later, but without any bodies, I’m not sure what they’ll do. Maybe they’ll interview the employee from the antique store.”

“Tell them to hold off on that,” said Jack. “I doubt they would get anything and the police attention could heat up the narcs on their UC operation.”

“I agree with Jack,” said Sammy, who was one of the investigators taking an active role in the undercover operation.

“Not a problem,” replied CC. “I’ll hold off. But where do you propose we go from here?”

“What about a wiretap?” suggested Jack, looking around the room.

“I’ll check with Crown,” replied CC, “but I think it is highly unlikely that we have the grounds to get one. How about getting one for drug trafficking?”

“We’ve got one on Jojo,” said Sammy. “So far he’s the biggest fish we’ve caught and even he is small compared to what we know about some of the big players who frequent Goldie’s. As far as the wire on Jojo goes, it hasn’t been all that productive. He likes pay phones followed up with a lot of heat checks before meeting anyone face-to-face. Even after the heat checks, if we’re lucky enough that he hasn’t spotted our surveillance, when he does meet someone, he has a habit of meeting several people over a space of a few minutes in places like restaurants, nightclubs, or bars. That makes it difficult to figure out which person is of importance and which one is just a casual acquaintance. With what we have so far, there are absolutely no grounds for us to get a wiretap on anyone else.”

The conversation continued for several minutes, but eventually it was decided that Drug Section would continue with their undercover operation in the hope of gaining grounds to apply for a wiretap on people connected with Goldie Locks. Jack and Laura would start doing surveillance of Goldie and his nightclub to see what they could learn.

“Keep me informed of all the players,” said CC. “If you do get a wire, maybe we can match somebody up with a younger brother affiliated with a youth gang. Or someone with a kid demented enough to murder a homeless guy.”

“The kid had to be old enough to drive a van,” said Sammy. “Makes him sixteen, at least.”

CC laughed and said, “You ever been to Surrey? Half the stolen cars are taken by kids a lot younger than that. The footprint we found at the scene could be from a twelve-year-old.”

“Good point,” said Sammy, shaking his head.

“How long before you think you’ll bring the UC op to an end?” asked Laura.

“We’re already halfway through July,” replied Sammy. “We’re supposed to have things wrapped up by the first week of August at the latest.” Sammy looked apologetic as he glanced at CC and added, “I have to tell you, it doesn’t look good that we’ll connect with any of the big players. Our budget can’t afford the hundreds of thousands of dollars it would take to buy at their level. They deal multi-kilos. We have a budget that is at the ounce level.”

“Don’t worry about it,” replied CC. “It’s a hell of a long shot, anyway. Even though Jack and Laura did trace the gun to Goldie’s doorstep, it doesn’t mean that anyone he knows had it. Angelo and Dominic may have tossed it before they … well, disappeared.”

Jack and Laura looked at each other and she gave a subtle shake of her head. Jack thought the same way. If Angelo and Dominic didn’t toss away the gun when they kneecapped Bernie, they likely didn’t toss it away over shooting someone in the arm. And what twelve-year-old kid would throw a gun away?

Laura saw Jack smile at her. It was a smile she had seen before. He’s got a plan.

It was eight o’clock Tuesday night when Jack found a place to park in an alley one block down from the rear door of the Goldie Locks nightclub. He rested the binoculars on the steering wheel to hold them steady and was able to see Goldie’s car parked behind the nightclub. It was a new Aston Martin V8 Vantage Roadster with a custom gold paint job, complete with vanity plates reading GOLDIE. Laura was in another car, and found a place to watch the front of the nightclub.

An hour went by before Arthur Goldie appeared out the back door of his club. Jack noted that Goldie’s physique made him relatively easy to see. He was a tall man with a thin body, which made his hands, feet, and head look extra large and gangly in comparison. He was forty-three years old and kept the hair on the sides of his head shaved short, but had a mop of thick brown hair on the top of his head. He was dressed in khaki-coloured slacks and an open moss-green windbreaker that revealed a canary-yellow golf shirt underneath.

“We’ve got action out back,” radioed Jack. “Looks like he’ll be eastbound in the alley.”

“I’ll see him when he comes out,” replied Laura.

“Keep it loose,” cautioned Jack. “I don’t want him to see our faces yet.”

“It’ll be real loose, out of sight, if he steps on the gas with what he’s driving,” replied Laura. A moment later she said, “Okay, got him. Turning north from the alley. What’s he got on the top of his head?”

“Just his hair,” replied Jack, while turning north on the street one block west of Goldie before making a quick right on Robson Street to catch up.

“Looks like a dead rat.”

“Think the rat is under the hair.”

“Copy that,” snickered Laura. “Okay, he’s picked up a ruby coming on to Robson. No indicator on, looks like he’ll be going straight through.”

Jack glanced at Goldie’s club as he drove past and then entered the left turn lane at the next light. He spotted the Aston Martin to his right where it was still parked, waiting for the light to change.

For the next ten minutes Jack and Laura followed Goldie. Eventually, he parked in another alley behind a restaurant before entering through the rear door. Unlike many criminals Jack had worked on, Goldie seldom checked his rear-view mirror and did not drive in a manner to detect if he was being followed. Is he really an innocent business man? Or does he feel safe because he thinks he is so immune and protected by others who do the dirty work?

“Keep an eye on his wheels,” radioed Jack. “I’m going on foot to walk past the front of the restaurant to see if I can spot who he’s meeting. He either owns the place or has to be on good terms with someone to walk in through the back. I’ll call you on your cell.”

Jack glanced in through the front windows of the Wang Hui Chinese Restaurant as he strolled past. He didn’t spot Goldie, but did see a group of Asian men sitting around some tables that had been pushed together. By their boisterous mannerisms and the way they were dressed, Jack had the distinct impression that they were gang-affiliated … and not the boy scouts. He spoke to Laura on her cell and relayed his observations.

“Sounds interesting,” replied Laura. “Want to start scooping licence plates? Maybe find out who —” her words broke off suddenly. “Hold it, Goldie’s out again and chatting in the alley with some guy. Short, barrel-chested Asian wearing black, baggy pants, and a red golf shirt. Maybe forty to fifty years old.”

“The restaurant is Chinese,” said Jack. “Bet it’s the owner.”

“Okay, that was quick,” continued Laura. “Goldie is back to his wheels and the red golf shirt went back inside the restaurant. Your call. Want me to stay with Goldie?”

“No, let him go. I don’t want to heat him up. Let’s watch this place and see if we can figure out who the clientele is and what is going on that would require a back-alley meeting.”

Over the next couple of hours, Jack and Laura recorded numerous licence plates of people coming and going from the restaurant. They also noted a pay phone outside the restaurant was used frequently by the clientele, some of whom clearly had cellphones.

By noon the following day, Jack’s and Laura’s desks were piled high with paper. They identified the owner of the restaurant as Hui Wang, who named his restaurant in the Asian fashion of Wang Hui Chinese Restaurant by using his surname first. It was also discovered that Wang was the owner of a furniture store called Wang’s House of Bamboo.

What Jack found of particular interest was that Wang had been charged for trafficking in crystal meth several years earlier, but was not convicted after someone else claimed ownership for the drug.

Laura glanced at the mug shot of Wang and confirmed that he was the man in the red golf shirt.

Jack discovered that he was partially right in that the clientele belonged to a gang. In fact, there were three different Asian gangs represented by the clientele. The Big Circle Boys, Sun Yee On triad, and some who had been listed by the Vancouver Police Department’s Anti-Gang Unit as belonging to gangs who were unnamed. Their criminal records included: attempted murder, kidnapping, assault, extortion, pimping, auto theft, identity and credit card theft, and drug trafficking.

“Except none of the drug trafficking is heroin,” said Jack, looking at the different records. “These guys are all into ecstasy and meth. If Goldie is involved with heroin, then he’s visiting the wrong crowd.”

“Maybe Wang plans on adding to his menu,” suggested Laura.

“Maybe, but something doesn’t sit right,” replied Jack. “Goldie seems much more sophisticated. The Chinese we saw were basically a bunch of hoods strutting around like Hollywood gangsters. They all seem close-knit. To me, Goldie doesn’t fit in.”

“He must somehow. He met with Wang in the alley.”

“You’ve got a point there. I’m going to call Sammy and see how they feel about approaching some of the dealers associated with Wang. Those guys are punks in comparison to the players who hang out at Goldie Locks. If heroin is about to be moved through there, it might be an opportune time.”

Drug Section was glad to assist, and over the next few nights they managed to get an undercover operator to meet some of the Chinese associated with the restaurant. By the following Monday, another meeting was held amongst the investigators in the boardroom.

“Good news, bad news,” said Sammy. “The good news is that Jack and Laura gave us a hell of a good tip on the Chinese restaurant. We’ve got two operators in with some of the bad boys connected to there. One operator is Chinese. She is being offered large quantities of ecstasy and crystal meth. She scored a sample of the meth and it is high quality. I tell ya, the bad guys are tossing weights and numbers around like it was the Toronto Stock Exchange. Anything goes, providing you’ve got the cash. We’ve also seen Wang using the pay phone out front. We’ve submitted a new operational plan to start a new UC there and I think we’ll have a wiretap up and running on Wang that will include the pay phone out front.”

“How long to get wire?” asked Jack. “With the action you’re talking about, I imagine it will take you a month or so to push the paperwork through.”

Sammy smiled and said, “Normally, yeah, but we got the Asian Heat on board with us.”

“Asian Heat?” asked Jack.

“That’s what I call her,” replied Sammy. “She’s of Chinese ancestry and is attached to the Asian Based Organized Crime Unit within our office. Tina is a real pit bull when it comes to catching bad guys. Before joining the Force, she was a loans officer in a bank. She’s good with the paperwork. Don’t worry, we’ll get the wire. We’ll also bug his car if we get the chance.”

“Tina sounds like someone we could use in our office,” Jack said, looking at Laura.

“Hands off!” replied Sammy. “I shouldn’t have told you about her.”

“You said earlier that there was some bad news,” interjected CC.

“Our operators have been turned down flat when it comes to heroin. Maybe Arthur Goldie isn’t into heroin. Maybe it’s his clientele who is.”

“Then why the back-alley meeting?” asked Jack.

Sammy shrugged and said, “It’s summer. The restaurant kitchen was probably hot and steamy. Outside would be cooler.”

Jack shook his head and said, “If he’s innocent, why not phone? He drove all the way over for a two-minute chat.”

“Well … whatever, but with a new UC in the works on ecstasy and meth, we’re going to be shutting down the heroin operation soon. Maybe we’ll get Wang talking to Goldie, but as it stands now, as far as the heroin operation goes, we hope to set up the final buy and bust within the next two weeks.”

“Mind if Laura and I start a little UC of our own in Goldie Locks?” asked Jack.

“Uh … hang on, Jack,” said Rose. “Are you proposing that you and Laura start buying heroin? We also don’t have a budget for that.”

“Not buying heroin,” replied Jack. “Just an intelligence probe. Basically go in and watch. See who’s who in the zoo. Might claim a few drinks, but nothing too expensive.”

Laura glanced at Jack. A few drinks, a few laughs … nobody gets hurt … right, Jack?

“That I can approve,” replied Rose, “provided we’re not interfering?” she added, looking at Sammy.

Sammy shook his head and replied, “Not at all. It could help us. If Jack and Laura can figure out who is who in there, next time we score from Jojo they might be in a position to figure out what is going on if he shows up at the club after.”

“Keep us in the loop,” said Jack. “We’ll start going inside and getting acquainted.”

“As long as you don’t cause us any heat before we’re done with our operation.”

Jack smiled. That is exactly what I intend to do.

13

It was Wednesday and relatively quiet at eight o’clock at night when Jack and Laura walked into Goldie Locks. The nightclub was tastefully decorated with well-spaced leather furniture and dim lighting. Classical music played softly through speakers and it, along with the expensive drink menu, ensured that the establishment catered to the over-thirty crowd — over thirty and wealthy.

A bouncer, who Jack figured had a taste for steroids, nodded politely to them from where he stood near the front door. He had short, blond hair trimmed in a buzz cut and wore a tan-coloured suit with a bright pink tie. His colleague, who looked like he could have been his twin brother, was dressed in a similar fashion and loitering near the bar where he was flirting with a waitress.

“Looks nice. How do you want to play it?” whispered Laura, as they made their way inside.

“Classy, wealthy, and friendly for now,” replied Jack.

“And later?”

“Once we get in with Goldie, he should be impressed by who he thinks we are. Then maybe we’ll add a touch of intimidation or psychotic behavior to the recipe. Keep him a little off balance … but interested. He’s used to being in charge. I want him to like and respect us, but we’ve got to keep control.”

Jack and Laura took a seat together on a white leather sofa facing an etched-glass oval coffee table.

“Martini, gin,” ordered Jack, to the young woman who quickly arrived to serve them.

“Bombay or Tanqueray?”

“I prefer Tanqueray Number 10, but if you don’t have Number 10, then Bombay.”

“Sorry, we don’t have Number 10, so Bombay it is. And you, madam?”

Laura frowned and replied, “Bellini.”

Jack saw Laura glare at the waitress as she left to get their order. “Okay, what’s up?”

“What’s up,” seethed Laura. “Didn’t you hear what she called me?”

“I thought she was polite?”

“She called me madam. I’ve never been called that. Do I look that old to you? I’m not even thirty-four yet. Do I look older?”

Oh, Christ. “Maybe she thought you owned a brothel,” offered Jack, hoping to make light of the situation.

“I bet it’s my makeup,” replied Laura, sounding concerned. “I was running late and in a hurry. I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she added, abruptly leaving.

The cocktails arrived before Laura returned and Jack asked the waitress her name.

“Patty,” she replied with a smile.

“Pleased to meet you. My name is Jack. My girlfriend Laura and I recently moved here from Edmonton. Have you been working here long?”

“Just started the end of June. Only for the summer. I’m going back to Simon Fraser in the fall. Getting my degree in education.”

“Good for you. Waitressing and dealing with the public is a learning experience. Something that will come in handy when you’re a teacher.”

“Hadn’t thought of it that way,” replied Patty.

“Speaking of which,” continued Jack, “between you and me, Laura hated being called ‘madam.’”

“I’m sorry, I —”

“Not a problem, but perhaps mention to her that you noticed she looked upset and —”

“I upset her?”

“And that you feel awkward being ordered to call all women by that —”

“The boss didn’t order us. I just —”

Jack put up his hand, gesturing for her to stop. “It would enhance your tip if she thought you were following orders from the boss.”

Patty paused and then smiled. “I’ll take care of it,” she said.

Jack noticed Patty go up to Laura as she was returning from the ladies’ room.

“It wasn’t me,” said Laura happily as she sat down.

“Wasn’t you what?”

“The waitress. Her name is Patty. She was only following orders on calling women ‘madam.’”

“Go figure.”

“I asked her about her boss. She said she didn’t really know Mister Goldie all that well yet. I asked her if he ever mingled with the customers and she said, sometimes. I said if he did, he would soon find out that calling young women ‘madam’ was not a good idea.”

“I bet they change their policy,” replied Jack. “It’s good he mingles. Just have to get him to mingle with us.”

Good undercover operatives are friendly by nature. Within a couple of hours, Jack and Laura were on a first-name basis with most of the staff.

On Thursday night, Jack and Laura returned to the club. Patty was quick to serve them, no doubt appreciating the fifty-six-dollar tip she received on top of the forty-four-dollar bill for the two martinis and two Bellinis she served the night before. The bartender, Purvis, also appreciated Jack’s added tips in appreciation of what he deemed “the perfect martini.” He waved to them both when they came in.

Jack took a jar out of a plastic bag and handed it to Patty and said, “Give this to Purvis, will you?”

“Olives?” asked Patty in bewilderment, staring at the jar.

“His martinis are excellent, but the olives he uses are getting old. Also, mention to him that I prefer three olives.”

Later that night, Jack and Laura saw Goldie make an appearance. Purvis spoke to him from behind the bar and Jack saw Goldie glance in their direction.

The next martini was on the house. When Jack and Laura left that night, they were being treated like prized regulars by all the staff.

It was ten o’clock on Friday night and Jack and Laura were looking for a place to park at Goldie Locks when Jack received a call from Sammy.

“Interesting call on the pay phone this afternoon,” said Sammy. “We just got it translated. Wang called another Chinese man by the name of Woo. We don’t know Woo’s full name yet. The number is registered to an auto body shop. It sounds like Woo is moving to Montreal and Wang told him to try and find a new connection out there for his friend who owns the nightclub. Wang has to be talking about Goldie.”

“Connection for what?” asked Jack.

“Didn’t say.”

After hanging up, Jack recounted the conversation to Laura.

“So, what do you think?” asked Laura.

“Let’s get Goldie to tell us what it’s about.”

“Really? And how —”

“On the sidewalk!” said Jack quickly, turning Laura’s attention toward the front of Goldie Locks.

Laura saw Goldie, in his familiar moss-green windbreaker, and Wang both walking down the sidewalk. Wang checked his watch and said something to Goldie, after which both men hurried their pace.

“What do you think?” asked Laura, with her hand on the door handle.

“They’re late for something. Would be nice to find out what. Go for it, but don’t be seen or Goldie will for sure recognize you from the club. I’ll call you on my cell. I’m going to give Sammy a call first and see if he knows anything.”

Once Laura exited the car, Jack dialed Sammy on his cellphone.“Sammy … Jack again. You ever get a bug in Wang’s car?”

“Yeah. Went into his garage behind his house last night and did it. Nothing on it yet. We didn’t have time to put in satellite tracking. The asshole turned his lights on. Probably going to the bathroom, but we decided to bolt.”

“He’s walking with Goldie near Goldie Locks. You don’t know anything?”

“Nope. We heard him in his car. Just the radio on and traffic noise. No indication he was with anyone or where he was going. Sounds like he parked it about fifteen minutes ago.”

“If you hear something, give me a call.”

Moments later, Jack realized that walking would be faster than driving as he sat in a long line of traffic. He looked for a place to park as Laura discreetly followed the two men around a corner and out of sight down the next block.

Meanwhile, Laura was relieved to see that both men were in a hurry and that neither one took the time to look behind them. She didn’t look behind herself either, otherwise she may have noticed a third man who stepped out from an alley and followed her down the street.

Partway down the block, both Goldie and Wang stopped and turned to talk with one another. By the way Goldie was gesturing with his hands, Laura presumed they were having some type of disagreement.

Despite it being the third week of July, the weather was cool from the nightly wind that came in off the ocean to replace the heat rising from the tall buildings. Laura pulled the collar of her jacket snugly around her neck and took momentary cover inside a convenience store. She pretended to browse along a magazine display while watching Goldie and Wang through the front window as she whispered to Jack on her cellphone.

The man following Laura stayed back in the shadows, watching and waiting for her to come outside. A lane emerged between tall buildings onto the street a few paces down from the convenience store. The area was dark, and for the moment, deserted. He knew it would be a good place to attack and then escape.

“Okay, they’re starting to move again,” whispered Laura. “Where are you?”

“About a block behind,” replied Jack, jogging past some pedestrians. “Be there in a couple of secs and I’ll take the opposite side of the street.”

Laura saw that Goldie and Wang had moved to the end of the block and were standing at the corner.

“Looks like they’re waiting for someone,” whispered Laura. “Maybe getting a ride. I’ll see if I can grab a plate.”

“Not too close,” warned Jack.

“There’s a lane between me and them. Pretty dark. I can hide in there. They won’t see me.”

Seconds later, Laura crept into the shadows, barely visible by the corner of a building as she watched Goldie and Wang, who seemed intent at looking at the cars going past them.

“Not a fuckin’ word bitch!” a man hissed, grabbing Laura by the shoulder.

Laura gasped as she was brutally spun around with her back slamming up against the cement wall of the building. A man loomed over her, holding a syringe close to her face.

“Your purse, lady, or I jam this in your fuckin’ throat!”

“KEEE-AI!”

Jack heard the sound of Laura’s vicious, paralyzing yell from across the street and looked over, as did both Goldie and Wang.

It takes the human body approximately two seconds to physically respond to a given stimulus. In those two seconds, Laura delivered three karate punches. Her arms moved in opposite unison to each other. As one fist pulled back, the other struck. Her training caused her reflexes to automatically give her knuckles a last-second twist upon impact for a bone-crunching finish. Her first blow was delivered to the man’s solar plexus. His body was in the act of doubling over when her second punch collided with his Adam’s apple. His head snapped back and he emitted a rasping, choking gurgle as his feet staggered back to maintain his balance. Her third punch to his scrotum caused him to plop on the sidewalk like a wet sack of cement.

Jack raced across the street, dodging cars as he went, but did not arrive until a couple of seconds after Goldie and Wang did.

“Are you okay?” asked Goldie, staring down at the man who was emitting a sickening moan while lying curled in a ball on the sidewalk with his hands between his legs.

“Uh … yes, thank you,” replied Laura.

“Sweetie! Are you okay?” asked Jack, as he arrived, still panting for air. “Did he hurt you?”

Laura caught the subtle shake of Jack’s head. Guess he doesn’t want me to act scared.

“What happened?” asked Jack.

“I, uh …” Laura glanced at Goldie and Wang, who were giving her odd looks as they glanced back and forth at her and the large man moaning on the sidewalk. “I was going to go to the store, you know, for … personal stuff, before meeting you at the club. Then this guy grabs me and hustles me into an alley and tries to rob me. I’m okay. How did you get here so fast? Did you see him following me?”

“No,” replied Jack. “I got to thinking that you shouldn’t be out here alone at night and started walking to catch up to you. Are you okay? Bet you could use a drink?”

“I’m okay. Think I could use a couple.”

“Do you want me to call the police?” offered Goldie, bringing out his cellphone.

A diamond embedded in Goldie’s front tooth sparkled as he spoke. It served to remind Jack further about the discrepancy in life between people like Goldie and Melvin.

“No police!” snarled Jack. His response drew the action he hoped for. A surprised look crossed Goldie’s face and he glanced knowingly at Wang.

“I mean, it’s okay,” Jack added, pretending to gain his composure. “It looks to me like he learned his lesson. Thanks, anyway.”

As Goldie and Wang turned to leave, Goldie overheard Jack say to Laura, “Have you got a jackknife in your purse? I’m going to cut his nuts off.”

“Hang on, honey, I’ll look,” replied Laura. “Sorry,” she replied a moment later.

“Guess I’ll stomp his brains out instead.”

“Oh, honey … don’t,” pleaded Laura. “You’ll get blood all over your pants and someone is liable to call the police. Besides, he might have AIDS. Come on, forget about it. I want a drink.”

Goldie and Wang’s mouths both gaped open as Jack and Laura held hands while casually browsing in store windows as they sauntered away.

When they were around the corner, Jack turned to Laura and said, “Keee-ai? Is that what you call discreet surveillance?”

“I’m sorry,” she replied. “He scared me. I acted without thinking. Next time I’ll scream like a little girl or pretend to faint.”

“Too late to act that way around these guys now. Don’t worry, it worked out.”

Laura snickered and said, “Did you see them turn around and the looks on their faces when you asked me for a jackknife? By the nod you gave me, I presumed you wanted me to go along with it.”

“I did. Imagine what they think of us. Goldie is bound to be curious.”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

Jack paused, remembering Winston.

“I’m sorry,” said Laura. “Stupid thing to say after what you had to do.”

“Forget about it,” replied Jack. “By the way, I saw a syringe lying on the sidewalk.”

“That’s what he threatened me with.”

“Bastard deserves to have his nuts cut off.”

“That would be cruel,” said Laura seriously. She thought about it for a moment and added, “I could see him being euthanized, but not tortured.”

“Euthanize him!” exclaimed Jack with a laugh. “You mean, whack the son of a bitch!”

Laura frowned and replied, “Well, yes, but euthanasia sounds nicer.”

Goldie and Wang weren’t the only persons to hear Laura’s yell and see her response. Kang Lee looked out the open window of his car and gestured for Goldie and Wang to join him. His thoughts were on Laura. He would never forget her face. Beautiful, but dangerous. Like a Western version of Sayomi … Where did she learn to fight like that?

14

“What was that all about?” asked Lee through the window as Goldie and Wang walked up.

Wang gestured with his thumb and said, “The guy lying curled up on the sidewalk tried to rob that couple who just walked away. Or at least, he tried to rob the lady.”

“Interesting lady,” noted Lee.

“They’re customers in my club,” replied Goldie.

“Better hope they don’t say much,” offered Wang. “Not good for business.”

“They didn’t seem all that concerned,” mused Goldie.

“Enough of that,” said Lee, sounding irritated at the chatter. “I feel like sushi. There’s a place I want to try called Azuma. On Denman near Comox. Meet me there. I have other business to attend to after.”

Moments later, Jack received a call from Sammy who said, “Sounds like Wang is back in his car. Got somebody with him. No idea where they are or where they’re going … hang on … they’re both laughing about something. Want to stay on the line and see if we can hear where they’re going?”

“I think he’s with Goldie,” said Jack. “Sure, I’ll hold.”

A few minutes later Sammy reported that the car was shut off and he heard Goldie and Wang leave. “Want me to hold the phone close to the speaker and play back what they were laughing about?” asked Sammy.

“Go ahead.”

Jack heard the recorded sound of a car and Goldie saying, “You see how that chick dropped that guy? Man, he hit the ground like a rotten tomato!”

“It’s where she nailed him that makes me cringe,” replied Wang. “I almost feel sorry for him.”

“I didn’t feel sorry for him until her boyfriend was going to cut his nuts off. Then I would have felt sorry for him!”

Laughter was heard and Goldie continued, “Did you hear what that woman yelled?”

“Sounded like karate.”

“She moved so fast I wasn’t sure what she did, but I think she kneed him in the nuts or something.”

“You say they’re customers of yours?”

“Just lately. Haven’t seen them before this week.”

“Better not screw up her order. Especially if the boyfriend finds a jackknife.”

Sammy then came back on the phone and said, “Don’t know what that was all about, but that was basically it. I’ll call if anything else crops up.”

Norimaki sushi rolls did not appeal to Goldie, but he ordered them, anyway. He did not like any sushi for that matter, but had decided that these were the least unpleasant. At the moment, any complaints from his taste buds had taken a back seat as he watched Lee’s face for a response to the suggestions that he and Wang had made. When the response was not immediate, Goldie added, “The two of us have talked about it. We would not be in competition with each other. Both products would have different distributors.”

Lee slowly chewed a mouthful of eel while he thought of a response. Eventually he swallowed and turned to Goldie. “So,” replied Lee quietly, pointing the ends of his chopsticks at Goldie’s face, “You think it would be easy to add cocaine to your portfolio?”

Goldie nodded and said, “I’m often approached by my people. It is a highly enriching commodity.”

“A commodity for which we cannot offer protection,” said Lee. “Has it been that many years ago that you forget what that is like? Do you not remember how you felt, sitting in a hot and steamy customs office in Burma? Your clothes soaked with the sweat of someone who believed his life to be over?”

Goldie was silent as he recalled that fateful day.

“Operate within the confines of protection,” continued Lee. “We have been over this before. Our organization cannot guarantee your protection in South or Central America.”

“I know, I know,” replied Goldie. “It’s just that it is so damned lucrative.”

“Are you not making lots of money? And much more so, if the doors to eastern Canada open, allowing easy access to places across the border like New York. Why take the risk of investing money in a climate that is not secure?”

Goldie sighed. “Perhaps you’re right,” he added, begrudgingly.

“Of course I’m right,” replied Lee. “Besides, it is my understanding that Satans Wrath controls most of the Canadian market for cocaine. They would demand you deal through them. With that would come more risk.”

“That is precisely why my idea is more logical,” said Wang, catching the sudden glare he received from Goldie. “What I proposed does not require import. Quite the opposite.”

Lee shook his head and said, “What you propose is farming.”

“It is not farming,” protested Wang. “Hydroponics. B.C. is providing the best marijuana in the world. Why shouldn’t I get a cut of it?”

“It is still farming, is it not?” replied Lee. “Indoors, perhaps, but still farming. With that comes land for the buildings and an army of people to manage the crops. Deliveries are both bulky and smelly. Such operations last only a matter of time before gaining police attention. With your army of farmers, how do you ensure obedience or loyalty? How long before one of the hoodlums you employ turns on you?”

“But the risks are low,” said Wang. “British Columbia does not send marijuana dealers to jail … at least rarely and then not for long.”

Lee smiled and admitted, “The penalty for any crime in B.C. is low, which is why we have opened up operations in Vancouver. But it is not the risk of incarceration that I am warning you about. The risk is having the police seize all your assets once the criminal offence has been proven. Are you willing to see the undoubtedly large nest egg you have made suddenly taken from you because of greed?”

Wang glanced at Goldie for a sign of support, but did not see any. If anything, he felt that Goldie was anything but supportive. Now he nods his head as if to say “I told you so”?

“It is not only your life you are risking,” continued Lee. “That market is largely controlled by the Vietnamese. You may be inviting conflict with —”

“Cannot the organization influence the Vietnamese?” asked Wang.

Lee paused, irritated at being interrupted. He took a deep breath before continuing in a conciliatory manner. “With the Vietnamese in Canada, there are many … undisciplined … individual enterprises. It would be too labour-intensive to extend our influence to so many independent small groups. The effort of locating their families in Vietnam to ensure compliance would not be worthwhile. There is also a more important consideration. You know how the police work. They usually go up the corporate ladder. Should you be arrested, even for what in B.C. is taken as the trivial offence of trafficking in marijuana, our organization would never accept you into our fold again. There would be no starting over with us.”

“I would never tell the police about you,” said Wang. “You know that! We are very careful. Arthur and I don’t even use your real name in conversation. We only refer to you as ‘The Enabler.’ I would never divulge your identity. Ever.”

“My boss is also very careful,” replied Lee. “You refer to me as ‘The Enabler?’ Well, I refer to him as ‘The Shaman.’ He is brilliant in such matters and I also would never make the mortal mistake of divulging his name. That said, I have already discussed with him the idea of expanding into the areas you have both suggested. He declined for the same reasons I gave you. If you wish to go out on your own into that market, then do so with the realization that you will be entirely cut off from our organization.”

Wang let out a deep breath and said, “No, I do not wish to do that.” He glanced at Goldie and added, “It was an idea we both had. Something both of us thought we should discuss with you.”

Lee caught the edge in Wang’s voice. Is there petty jealousy over my decision to have Goldie fulfill my position? I assured The Shaman that there wasn’t …

“It is good that we exchange ideas,” said Lee. “For example, your suggestion about that person you trust who is moving to Montreal.”

“Woo,” replied Wang.

“His name to me is not important. What matters is your desire to help our organization. The Shaman would prefer that Arthur take on my current role as he was born in Canada and is more familiar with the culture. However, you have shown that you are not only above petty jealousy, but that you were willing to offer Woo’s services to Arthur. A fact I have brought to the attention of The Shaman himself.”

“Thank you,” replied Wang, his smile revealing his delight at being praised.

“Kingdoms are built by the strengths, work, and ideas of many,” continued Lee. “The closer you get to the king, the more protection is needed. You have both done well and have earned the right to stand within the castle walls. At this point I would suggest that it would not be wise for you to go out and cross the moat into unsafe territory.” Lee pinched another piece of eel between his chopsticks and raised it toward his lips before pausing and asking, “Agreed, gentlemen?”

Goldie raised a cup of sake to show his compliance. He was quickly joined by Wang. Lee nodded and did likewise to make a silent toast.

Lee smiled when they resumed eating. Naturally, he did not mention the most important reason he did not want Goldie and Wang investing elsewhere. Spreading the money around would have an adverse affect on the amount of commission received from the products that The Shaman did control.

Jack awakened late Saturday morning and was glad that both he and Natasha had the day off. They were into the third week of July and the weather could not have been more beautiful.

Breakfast consisted of sitting in their housecoats eating croissants and drinking black coffee on their apartment balcony, which overlooked the city. Neither talked of work. For many couples, such a Saturday morning breakfast may have been normal, but neither Jack nor Natasha led normal lives. Love and intimacy too often took a back seat to the pressures of their careers.

“Come on,” said Jack, when they finished. “Get dressed. I’m taking you someplace special.”

“Someplace special?” asked Natasha, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll see,” Jack replied. “This is our day. I want it to be special. Today the world can wait. It’ll be just you and me.”

At one o’clock Natasha found herself holding Jack’s hand as they strolled across the Capilano Suspension Bridge. The location had a special meaning. It was not only that the view of the Capilano River, 230 feet below, was spectacular. It was because this was where Jack had given Natasha her engagement ring almost two years earlier.

At the centre of the bridge, Jack turned and hugged Natasha as his lips softly caressed hers, kissing her long and tenderly.

“I love you so much,” he whispered. “For me, my life really began on this spot the day you accepted the ring.”

“And if I had said no, would you have jumped?”

Jack stepped back and looked at her for a moment before saying, “Hell, no. I’d have pushed you off!”

Natasha laughed and said, “You’re so damned romantic. You certainly know how to sweet-talk a girl.” She looked intently into his eyes and her smile faded.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Remember when we agreed to be married for two years before starting a family?”

Jack nodded.

“Don’t you think it’s close enough to two years to start trying?”

Jack felt a sense of shock. Has it been two years already?

Natasha saw the look on Jack’s face. She stepped back and felt her eyes water. “What? You’ve changed your mind?”

Jack paused and said, “I have to admit, the idea really scares me.”

“A fine time to be telling me this now! Why didn’t you mention it last time we were on this bridge? I wouldn’t have accepted the ring.”

“I haven’t changed my mind. Just give me a moment.”

“If you really want children, why do you need a moment?”

“I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Afraid I won’t make a good father because of my own upbringing. I didn’t have much of a role model. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know how to act around children.”

“I would never allow you to treat our children badly.”

“I know … and I want children. I’m just a little afraid. You caught me off guard.”

Natasha stepped closer and gently kissed him before saying, “The fact that you worry about that makes me think you’ll make a great dad. I’d never allow you to be any other way.”

Jack smiled. “I know,” he replied. “I have complete faith in your ability to be a good mom … and a wife.”

“So, no more birth control?”

“No.”

“Good, we’ve done enough practising,” replied Natasha with a grin.

“Hey! We should always practise. Every chance we get.”

Natasha giggled and said, “Okay. I hear that practise makes perfect. I could go along with that.”

“Good. Let’s have lunch.”

A few minutes later, Jack found a secluded spot amongst some towering Douglas fir trees and spread out a blanket before opening a small cooler. Lunch consisted of spiced Dutch gouda cheese, French bread, strawberries, a chilled bottle of Pinot Grigio, and dark chocolate squares for dessert.

Natasha felt Jack’s warm embrace again as they lay with their legs entwined upon the blanket. “You plan on seducing me now?” she asked, feeling his kiss and warm breath upon the nape of her neck.

“The thought crossed my mind, unless you want to see if we can get the bridge rocking.”

“Exhibitionism isn’t really my style. No, I think this —”

Jack groaned and picked up his cellphone to look at the number of who was calling. “I’m not available,” he muttered and let the call go to voice mail. “Now, you were saying?” asked Jack with a smile, pulling Natasha closer.

“I was suggesting we may have enough privacy —”

Jack swore softly and glanced at his phone again. This time a text message said URGENT!

“Sorry, hon, I better take this.” Jack sighed.

His call to Sammy was short. Sammy concluded the conversation by saying, “Sorry for the delay. The monitors didn’t get around to listening to it until now. CC is on her way in, too.”

Jack hung up and turned to Natasha and stared a moment without speaking. He could see the tears form in her eyes.

“You promised,” she said quietly. “You said it was going to be our day.”

“It’s about Melvin,” replied Jack. “We’ve got a lead.”

Natasha’s open mouth showed her surprise. Her sorrow gave way to anger. “Go get ’em,” she said angrily.

15

Jack, Laura, and CC crowded around Sammy as he replayed a second conversation held in Wang’s car between Wang and Goldie.

“So what do you think of the meeting tonight?” asked Wang.

“It went about how I expected,” replied Goldie.

“How you expected?” replied Wang, his voice sounding angry. “Wish you would have told me that up front. I thought you caved in too easy. You sure as hell didn’t try to back me up!”

“Trouble in paradise,” said Jack. Divide and conquer …

Laura caught his grim smile. Oh, man … that means trouble …

“He raised some good points,” continued Goldie. “I agreed with him. Nothing wrong with admitting when you’re wrong.”

“Were we wrong? Or are you sucking up to him because he plans to promote you into his position? You want to become the new Enabler.”

“Fuck you,” replied Goldie. “I’m not sucking up to anybody. The Enabler was right about what he said. Why rock the boat? We’ve got a good thing going. Maximum gain with minimum risk. As he said, if you don’t like what you have, then branch out on your own. Just be prepared to accept that you’ll be operating in a theatre without protection.”

“Who the hell is this Enabler guy?” whispered CC.

“Don’t know,” replied Sammy.

“I still think The Enabler is looking after his own interests, as well,” grumbled Wang.

“Oh, definitely. I totally agree. But in reality, his interests become our interests.”

“Yours, maybe, once you’re in his position. You’ll be making the commission that he is getting now.”

“True, but you’ll still be making a good cut on your end. Besides, if your man Woo ever gets his ass moved to Montreal and can find someone to move product there, then I’ll make sure you get a percentage of everything distributed on that end. That’s if you could ever convince him to deal with us round-eyes.”

“I don’t know about that, but if he does, then you better be dividing the noodles my way.” The sound from inside the car was partially obliterated by the sound of squealing brakes. “Hey! You fucking moron! Signal next time!”

“You know I will,” continued Goldie. “That is what The Enabler would expect. He isn’t the sort of guy I would want to piss off. Him or his boss.”

“He calls him The Shaman,” replied Wang. “Did you know that most Shamans are actually women?”

“He referred to The Shaman as a he. Either way, in my book, I don’t want to ever put myself in a position to find out about their early retirement plan.”

“Here it comes,” whispered Sammy.

“Think you’d end up like that wino in the park?” asked Wang.

“Maybe.” There were several seconds of silence before Goldie continued again. “Why they did it or had me deliver him way out there still puzzles me. My own guys, who I used to pick him up, are still looking at me like I’m squirrelly. I said it was a prank to drop off a wino in someone’s yard. It all seemed like a big risk for nothing.”

“You never asked?”

“Was told it was a need-to-know basis. The whole thing wasn’t professional in my books. Totally out of character to the point that it was comical. The fuckin’ wino almost … well, I shouldn’t talk about that. Anyway, it gave us both a good laugh after.”

“Both? Thought you said there were three of you?”

“The third guy I told you about before. The one wearing a suit. He doesn’t laugh at anything. I’ve never met anyone so cold in my life.”

“Like that woman’s boyfriend who was going to cut the guy’s nuts off tonight?”

“Man, that was nothing compared to the guy wearing the suit. You could see it in his eyes. Black, cold … like they were dead. Let’s change the subject. It gives me the creeps thinking about him. We shouldn’t be talking about it, anyway. Especially in a car. How about turning on some tunes?”

“That’s it,” said Sammy, turning off the recorder and looking at CC. “What do you think? Time for you to string some wire naming Goldie?”

“That’s it?” said CC. “There’s nothing to say this is even my case. The victim’s tox’ came back negative for alcohol or illicit substances. He’s certainly no wino.”

Jack didn’t want to say what he thought. The Shaman? The Enabler? Guys above Goldie. Then some guy in a suit with dead eyes? The wino in the park has got to be Melvin. But why would they kill Melvin? Goldie has proven himself to be a smart businessman … and these others are above him? Nothing makes sense.

“Maybe it is a coincidence,” said Sammy. “Might not be related to your thing.”

Jack’s mind was still replaying what he heard. They thought it was comical? Something to laugh about? They’d probably really find it funny if they saw me shooting Winston in the alley. He realized his fist was clenched and took a deep breath to relax his body. He knew it was one conversation he would not tell Natasha about. She was in enough pain already. He glanced at CC and said, “Melvin looked like a wino. If you didn’t take the time to know him, you would think that.”

“Goldie’s big,” said CC. “What? Maybe a size ten to twelve shoe? Sammy might have a point. It could be a coincidence.”

“Come on, CC,” said Laura. “We traced the gun to Goldie’s doorstep, it was used to murder Melvin, and now Goldie talks about a wino in a park who almost escapes? It fits.”

CC sighed and shook her head. “I’m sorry. Don’t get me wrong. I think we might possibly be on to something. But what I think doesn’t matter. It’s what evidence we have, both supportive and contradictory, that counts. I’m speaking about how the Crown or a judge would view it. I sincerely doubt we could get a wiretap on Goldie based on what we have so far. Not to mention, you heard these guys — they use code names. Also words like product. Even Goldie said they shouldn’t be talking about it in a car.”

“To be this close to nailing him for murder,” said Laura. “It’s driving me nuts.”

“Close to nailing him for murder!” exclaimed CC. “That’s a laugh. Girl, we’re a long way from that. Even if we could prove it was Melvin he’s talking about, what have we got? It sounds to me like Goldie was only the delivery boy. If the evidence was going against him, all he would have to say is he thought it was all some sort of prank. He even told his guys it was. You know what the judges are like. He doesn’t have any convictions. Upstanding businessman. He’d probably end up with probation or at best, a few months served before being released. Hell, if we did catch him, I’d cut a deal with him in a second and let him walk if he’d give us whoever did do it. Even then, without a motive, it would be damned hard and likely impossible to get a conviction. Sorry to break your bubble, Laura, but in my books, we’re not close at all.”

“A wire on Goldie might give you whoever did it,” said Sammy. “Maybe identify The Shaman and The Enabler, or even the guy in the suit with dead eyes.”

“Even if we did get a wire on Goldie, do you really think he would ever talk about it and go over the details again with whoever did it? At least in a place where we could hear? I bet this is as close as you would ever get … and it isn’t nearly enough. It would be nice to know who the guy with dead eyes is, though.”

“And The Enabler,” said Jack.

“You don’t know if he was the one laughing in the park with Goldie,” said CC. “His name wasn’t used to clarify if he was the third guy.”

“Goldie thought the idea wasn’t professional,” said Jack. “He asked and was told it was on a need-to-know basis. It had to be his boss, which is the one they call The Enabler.”

CC shrugged and said, “Logical, provided we’re even talking about the same incident.”

Her choice of words irritated Jack. Incident? He knew that was how it would be referred to in a courtroom. Grabbing an innocent man … sticking a plastic bag on his head and chasing him through the woods to murder him would be simply stated as an “incident.”

“What about a search warrant?” suggested Laura. “Maybe we could find a dirty shoe or boot in Goldie’s house that the lab could match with the dirt in the park where Melvin was killed?”

CC frowned and said, “Sorry, I doubt we have grounds for a search warrant, either. And as far as lab evidence, it sounds like you’ve been watching too much CSI on television. Things tend to work a little differently in the real world.”

“I know, but occasionally we get lucky with the lab,” countered Laura.

“‘Occasionally’ being the operative word,” said CC. “Another issue with courts would be potential motive. Why would someone like Goldie, if he did do it, deliver some wino —” She paused, catching a dark look from Jack before correcting herself and saying, “Okay, homeless person, to a park for a couple of other guys to shoot him? Tell me how you would answer that question to a judge?”

Jack thought about it. He knew CC was right. Her reasoning was sound. Why would anyone do it? Goldie is wealthy. Whoever he works for must be more so. Is there some past connection to Melvin’s life that nobody knows about? His own choice of words caused him to reflect and think deeper. Nobody knows about? … Nobody … like Ophelia said, “People who got it don’t give a shit about people who don’t. We’re nobodies.” Goldie said they were laughing. They wouldn’t be if there was a specific reason to murder Melvin. It would have been strictly business. Whatever their reason, Melvin was a random pick. The motive for the crime was the murder itself. The victim could be a nobody. But why would any presumably sane person want to murder an innocent person for no reason? Or is the person behind this whole situation even sane?

“Well, sorry if I brought you in on your day off for no reason,” said Sammy. “It seemed important to me.”

“It is important,” said Jack. “I need time to go over it in my head. But I’m positive we’re on the right track. We’ve got to identify these three guys. The Shaman, The Enabler, and Dead Eyes.”

“And I’m not saying it isn’t important,” said CC, defensively. “All I’m saying is that so far, don’t expect much judicial backing.”

“I never expect that,” said Jack evenly.

CC gave a sharp glance at Jack. “Don’t even think about it!” she said tersely.

“About what?” asked Jack, his voice sounding both innocent and surprised.

“Don’t give me that shit! About whatever it is you’re thinking.”

Jack slowly shook his head and said, “I’m thinking we need to come up with a plan. Something to gather more evidence to support the judicial criteria you need to make a case.”

“Are you ridiculing me?” asked CC, her voice tinged with anger.

“No,” replied Jack. “I wish I was, but I respect your abilities and your opinion. If you say we don’t have enough, then we don’t have enough.”

By his sincerity and the sadness in his voice, everyone knew that Jack meant what he said.

“We need to keep digging,” continued Jack. “And we definitely need to find out who these other guys are. We’ll get more evidence … somehow.”

It was the somehow that bothered CC. Which is why I told him not to do whatever he was thinking in the first place! God, here we go. Full circle.

“Any plan come to mind?” asked Sammy. “Not that it is any of our business. We’re concentrating on drugs, but if there is something we can do to help, let us know.”

“I appreciate that, Sammy,” replied Jack. “If we come up with something, I’ll be sure to contact you.”

CC looked at Jack. If we come up with something? Give me a break. You already have. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Time to have a private chat with Staff Sergeant Rosemary Wood. I wonder if she knows what Jack Taggart is really all about? Hell, I don’t even know what he is all about. Everything with him is smoke and mirrors. Lies and deception …

It was late Monday morning and Rose glanced at Jack and Laura as they sat across from her desk while Jack brought her up to date on the investigation. The private meeting she’d had earlier at Starbucks with Connie Crane still weighed heavily on her mind.

“So, from our perspective,” said Rose, sounding businesslike, “this investigation, which started out under the auspices of gun smuggling, has changed to ecstasy, meth, and heroin? Knowing of course, that the murder in the park is under I-HIT’s mandate.”

“The drug investigation is legitimate,” replied Jack. Why is Rose sounding so officious? Not friendly like before … “I feel that it is significant enough to fall within our job description.”

“I agree,” replied Rose. “But I was also at that meeting with Drug Section two weeks ago when they said their budget did not allow them to purchase large enough quantities of heroin to allow them to work their way up to the kingpins. Even if we combined our total budgets between our two sections, the penalty someone might receive for drug trafficking would not be worth the cost.”

“I’m well aware of the budget restrictions,” replied Jack. “That’s nothing new.”

“So, with that in mind, are you proposing we enter into a long-term investigation … likely taking several years, in the hope of nailing some of the kingpins through some type of conspiracy charge? I’m not against that, although again, the cost would be prohibitive for what we would achieve in the way of doing any significant damage as far as organized crime goes.”

“No, I agree,” said Jack. “The time it would take, including using all available personnel over that time frame, even if successful, would likely see the rise of several other crime families in the meantime. We would end up one step ahead and three back.”

“Then what is your solution?”

“They’re talking about a man by the name of Woo maybe moving to Montreal and looking for someone to move product. They’re hoping to expand operations.”

“Are you thinking about working a joint project with our unit in Montreal?”

“No. We don’t know for sure that Woo is even going. Even if he does, I don’t see that being overly productive to help us out here. I’m not thinking of using them to help. I was thinking of someone else.”

Rose caught the sideways glance that Laura gave Jack. She has her doubts about something … Connie warned me …

“Are you familiar with the Irish Mafia in Montreal?” asked Jack.

“A little. The Irish Mafia is one of the oldest and makes the top three list for being the most influential organized crime families in North America. In Montreal, they are known as the West End Gang.”

“That’s the boys,” said Jack.

“Some boys,” replied Rose. “They also have a reputation for being extremely violent — including dismemberment. Victims have been found minus body parts.”

Laura pursed her lips in a small grin. Dismemberment … like cutting a guy’s testicles off with a jackknife.

“Are you familiar with one of the captains in the West End Gang, a fellow by the name of Happy Jack O’Donnell?” asked Jack.

“I’m not sure,” replied Rose. “I haven’t heard that name for years. Is he the one the press used to call ‘Happy’ because he was never convicted of anything?”

“The press called him that. His name came up a lot during a trial years ago when a police agent testified against the gang. There was never enough evidence to even charge O’Donnell, but it was clear he was one of the bosses. A journalist who tried to follow up on the story had his car blown up in his driveway as a warning.”

“So, what about him? Or the Irish? What’s that got to do with this case?”

“I’ve got a plan to use him and the Irish Mafia to help us,” said Jack.

“You what?” exclaimed Rose, lurching forward and knocking some reports off her desk.

16

Later Monday afternoon, Jack hung up the telephone as Laura entered their office. He waited until she sat at her own desk and said, “Remember our two Russians in May — the ones we tricked into going to Vietnam where they were arrested?”

“They’re not getting out, are they?”

Jack smiled and shook his head. “No. Remember the posh penthouse suite they rented that backs onto Stanley Park? Two bedrooms, mini-bar, plasma television, underground parking —”

“Yeah, yeah. What about it?”

“I spoke with Derek. The ex- policeman in charge of security for the apartment.”

“Uh, huh.”

“It turns out the two Russians paid for the suite one year in advance. The year isn’t up until the fall. Derek agreed to us using it, providing we guarantee the Russians don’t come back. I assured him they would definitely not be back for at least the next eighteen years.”

“How sweet. Our own little love nest.”

“Exactly. We can pick the key up from Derek this afternoon. I’ve also got two friends, Paul and Katie, who own a forty-five-foot powerboat parked down at the Bayshore West Marina. It’s called the Blue Gator. I’ve been in it. It’s one hell of a beautiful boat. Very lavish. They are willing to let us borrow it. Paul also happens to be Irish and has the brogue.”

“Nice friends to lend us that.”

“I met Katie years ago. She used to be a social worker up in Kelowna. Our paths crossed and we have been friends since. Really nice people. I think Katie has seen her share of the bad side of life as a social worker.”

“So we have the penthouse, a yacht … this is sounding better all the time.”

“The things you have to do when you have champagne tastes and a beer budget.”

“So, when do we do this?”

“Tomorrow. Pack a bikini and your winter coat into a suitcase. We’ll be off to the airport.”

On Wednesday night, Jack and Laura strolled down the street and entered Goldie Locks. Hidden in a van across the street, Staff Sergeant Rosemary Wood took several surveillance photographs of them entering the club. Her portfolio of surveillance photos on Jack and Laura had grown considerably since the day before.

It was dusk on Friday night when Goldie arrived in the alley behind his club and parked his Aston Martin. He stepped out of his car as a four-door, tan-coloured, unmarked police car pulled up behind him.

The plainclothes officer gestured for him to approach.

“Good evening, Mister Arthur Goldie,” she said, somewhat contemptuously. “My name is Staff Sergeant Wood. I am with the RCMP Organized Crime Task Force. You and I need to talk.”

“What? What about?” demanded Goldie.

“Hop in the car beside me. We’ll take a little drive and I’ll tell you what it’s about,” replied Rose.

“I’m not going with you without consulting a lawyer,” replied Goldie, taking out his cellphone.

“Why are you acting so paranoid?” asked Rose. “This isn’t about you, particularly. I want to talk to you about two of your customers. I prefer not to be seen by them or have anyone know I talked to you.”

“What customers?”

“Get in. I’ll only drive a couple of blocks away and show you their pictures. These two aren’t who they pretend to be.”

Moments later, Rose drove Goldie a few blocks away and drove into an above-ground parkade.

“So what do you think” asked Jack, turning in his chair to look at Laura. “Figure we can get away with it?”

“Think we can rely on Rose?”

“I think so.”

“Cost is certainly a factor. Like the narcs say, we can’t afford to buy the quantity of dope needed to make the connections.”

“You’re right. But the Irish Mafia can.”

Rose parked the car and turned to Goldie and said, “So, off the top, what can you tell me about Jack and Laura?”

Goldie shrugged and said, “I’m not sure I even know them.”

“Bullshit! Take a look at these,” said Rose, opening her briefcase and handing Goldie a surveillance photo. “Tell me again you don’t know them.”

Goldie glanced at a photo of Jack and Laura sitting in the front of their car. Jack was talking to him out the window of the car. “This was last night,” exclaimed Goldie.

“Tell me again you don’t know them,” said Rose.

“I don’t! I just arrived at my club and they were driving by. The guy asked if we had any free parking for the club. That’s all it was about. Maybe they have been in my club before. The guy likes his martinis … not too many. I’m not saying he drinks too much to drive or anything. Otherwise we wouldn’t serve him.”

“Are these them for sure?” asked Rose, handing Goldie some more photographs.

Goldie looked at the top picture. It showed Jack and Laura bundled up in heavy coats with a glimpse of the Vancouver Airport arrivals area in the background. Their suitcases were piled at the back of a limousine and the driver was getting out.

“These were taken a few months back when they arrived,” said Rose.

Goldie looked at the next picture showing Jack and Laura leaving a fashionable apartment complex.

“This last photo is a little more recent,” said Rose, “taken from a restaurant patio overlooking the Bayshore Marina.”

Goldie looked at the photo and saw Laura sipping a glass of wine. She was wearing a bikini and sitting on the deck of a luxury powerboat. Jack, wearing a golf shirt and cargo shorts, sat beside her.

“So?” asked Rose. “Do they look familiar?”

“Yes, that is them,” admitted Goldie. “They have been in my club a few times. I think the guy told one of my waitresses that they were from Edmonton. Why?”

“From Edmonton? That’s a laugh,” said Rose. She studied Goldie’s face briefly and said, “You really don’t know who they are, do you?”

Goldie shook his head and said, “Just a couple of customers. That’s all I know.”

“Who have they been meeting with in there? Have they been coming in with any other people?”

“Not anyone that I’ve seen. They seem like a nice couple. Real friendly with everyone. My staff likes them. No complaints. They’re not troublemakers.”

“Any other customers they socialize with?”

“Not really. As I said, they’re friendly with everyone, but don’t socialize with anyone in particular.”

“If I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll have the tax man all over your joint. Health inspectors, too.”

Jack leaned forward in his chair, peering through the one-way glass in the back of the van. “Looks like Rose is really giving it to him,” he said to Laura, without turning around. “She’s wagging her finger in his face. Maybe she would make a good operator.”

“Yes, playing herself,” replied Laura.

“Go ahead,” said Goldie defiantly, glaring at Rose. “Call the tax man. I’ll give you my accountant’s name. And as far as cleanliness goes, my place is tops. We cater to a sophisticated crowd. If you would ever step inside, you would know that.”

Rose returned Goldie’s stare briefly before lowering her eyes submissively. “Okay,” she said. “I believe you. Maybe the son of a bitch has decided to retire.” Rose’s face brightened and she said, “Makes it easy for us. We can conclude our file. I’m sorry to have bothered you with this. We had to make sure. I’ll give you a ride back now.”

“Do you mind telling me who they are?”

“Well, I can tell you they’re not really from Edmonton. They’re from Montreal.”

“Montreal?”

“Yup. I don’t know how much you know about the Irish Mafia, but Happy Jack O’Donnell is, or I guess was, one of the captains in that mob. One of the oldest and most established crime families in North America. A long history of extreme violence. People who have crossed them have been found dead and missing various body parts.”

Goldie’s thoughts briefly returned to a mugger outside a convenience store.

“We heard that he might be retiring,” continued Rose, “but we didn’t know if it was true. We were afraid he might be coming to build connections. Telling people he is from Edmonton makes it seem more like he is hiding his past. It fits the retirement mode.”

Jack turned around in his chair again from where he was watching Rose from out of the back of a van and smiled. “Rose glanced our way and made a fist and scratched the bottom of her chin with her thumb nail.”

“The old thumbs up,” replied Laura. “Must be going well.”

“We’ll see if he says anything to us tomorrow night when we go in. If he does, I’ll thank him and show some appreciation for him telling us.”

“What if he doesn’t say anything?”

“I’ll tell him we know about it and thank him anyway.”

“You’ll tell him we know about it?”

“If I have to, I’ll get my old partner, Danny O’Reilly, to seem like he’s dirty and deliver me a fake report. Give the appearance that Irish blood is thicker than justice routine. If Goldie doesn’t say anything tomorrow night, we’ll still show our appreciation because he didn’t tell Rose anything.”

“He didn’t have anything to say to Rose, even if he wanted to.”

“I know. But either way, I’ll show him our gratitude. The hook will be baited. I bet we get action soon.”

Jack was right on his guess that they would be getting action soon. Later that same night, Goldie met with Wang again in the alley behind Wang’s restaurant and told him about his visit from the RCMP.

“How long before Woo moves to Montreal?” asked Goldie.

“Today is Friday,” noted Wang. “He told me he moves into a new apartment on the first of August. That’s next week so I expect he’ll be leaving in the next couple of days.”

“Good. I’m not taking anything at face value. Let’s check him out pronto. Tell Woo to find an Irish pub and ask around about Happy Jack O’Donnell.”

17

It was midnight Saturday night and Jack pretended to look at Laura over the top of his martini glass as he took a sip. In reality, he was looking at Goldie who had wandered out from the rear of the club and was talking to the bartender while aimlessly looking at customers. There he is. A man who laughs at the brutal slaughter of an innocent person. Can I pretend to befriend him and make it look genuine?

Laura caught a subtle change in Jack’s demeanor and said, “Is he back?”

“Behind you talking to Purvis at the bar,” said Jack, wryly. “Laughing about something. He’s definitely seen us but is keeping his distance. I’m going to order another martini at the bar and then invite him over.”

“Want me to play the bimbo role?”

“Not after your karate demonstration the other night. Pretend you’re smart and in the know.”

“Pretend? Hey, I take offence to that remark.”

Jack would have smiled, but the sight of Goldie laughing in the background made him think of a terrified man trying to escape through some darkened woods. Running and staggering with your hands tied behind your back. Barely able to see through a plastic bag. Unable to scream. Your breath cut short by tape. The sound of gunshots. Your body feeling the pain. Twisting and turning. More gunshots … falling. Goldie laughing … his diamond-studded tooth glimmering in the light …

“Jack? Did you hear me,” asked Laura.

“Yeah. Wait here. I’m going to tell him I want to talk to him at our table.”

A moment later, Goldie joined them and introduced himself as Arthur. Jack and Laura each introduced themselves by their first names.

“Is there a problem?” asked Goldie. “Something you wish to discuss with me?”

“No problem at all,” replied Jack, reaching for the gift bag beside his feet. “Quite the opposite, really. I wanted to apologize for any inconvenience I may have caused you last night.”

Goldie accepted the gift bag with surprise. He reached inside and pulled out a bottle of Tyrconnell single-malt Irish whiskey. “What inconvenience?” he exclaimed, casting a curious glance at Jack and Laura.

Jack smiled warmly at him and said, “You know, there are those who think the Irish blood is too watered down with Guinness. Let me tell you that is not so.” Jack winked and leaned back in his chair and finished the last of his martini.

“I don’t understand,” replied Goldie.

Jack smacked his lips, savouring the last swallow, before looking directly at Goldie and saying, “Many of the Irish have become police officers, but the Irish blood is thick and they are Irish first.” Jack paused as Goldie reflected upon what he said, before continuing, “Shall we just say that I have friends who keep me well informed on such matters. The intrusion in your life by Officer Wood last night did not go unnoticed and I wish to apologize to you for any inconvenience it may have caused.”

“I … I don’t know what to say,” said Goldie. “I mean, it’s not any of my business who the customers are or —”

Jack let out a hearty laugh and said, “Whatever you did say, I owe you a debt of gratitude. They actually think I have retired.” Jack turned to Laura and said, “Really, honey, do I look that old to you?”

“Certainly not,” replied Laura, frowning. “You don’t have a wrinkle on your body. At least, not one that stays a wrinkle for long,” she added with a wink.

“But this really isn’t necessary,” said Goldie, attempting to hand the bottle back.

“It is nothing, really,” replied Jack. “I would feel insulted if you did not accept. Besides, I was born in Canada. No Irish brogue and Irish whiskey for me. My taste is for gin and vermouth … and fresh olives. I’m a great disappointment to my dear old father, I am sure.”

“Well … thank you,” replied Goldie, setting the bottle down.

“You wouldn’t believe the scurrilous and absolute scandalous accusations the police have made about me and my comrades over the years,” said Jack. “Absolute nonsense, I can assure you. I am a businessman. That is all.”

“What type of business are you in?” asked Goldie. “I mean, if you don’t mind me asking. If it is too personal then —”

“No, I don’t mind at all,” replied Jack, leaning back from the table as Patty brought him a martini. “Here you go, Patty,” he said, tipping her another fifty-dollar bill. “Did I ever tell you I think you have a beautiful name?”

After Patty expressed her gratitude and left, Jack looked at Goldie and said, “I’m an entrepreneur. Investments here and there. Trying to eke out a living.”

Goldie smiled knowingly. “An entrepreneur,” he said. “I have several friends who are entrepreneurs.”

“Ah, alas, there is competition everywhere,” replied Jack, raising his glass for a toast. “May you live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live.”

“And,” added Laura, “as you slide down the banister of life, may the splinters never point in the wrong direction.”

“I love it,” said Goldie. The diamond stud in his tooth reflected the light as he threw his head back and chortled.

Goldie’s action made Jack pause. I’d like to smash my fist into your face. See how funny you think that would be. He took a deep breath. Damn it, get a grip. Pretend to smile. He clinked glasses with Goldie and thought of another old Irish toast:

Drink is the curse of the land.

It makes you fight with your neighbour.

It makes you shoot at your neighbour.

It makes you miss.

Jack took a sip of his martini and put the glass back down on the table. Believe me, Goldie, you’re in my sights — I won’t miss.

18

It was two o’clock in the morning when Jack drove Laura home.

“I think it went well tonight,” said Laura. “Goldie was pretty friendly. Even bought us a round.”

“You’re right. No conversation to hint of anything illegal, but friendly. Monday is a stat holiday. Let’s take the next three days off. Wednesday morning the narcs have scheduled a meeting. We’ll wait until next Friday before going back to the club. See how Goldie acts toward us then.”

“You think he’s trying to check you out? Maybe with that Woo character that Wang was talking to?”

Jack nodded and said, “In the event something does go awry, I’ve got my fake ID made with O’Donnell ending in one L instead of two. If worse comes to worse, I can make it look like Rose made a mistake and thought I was the more notorious O’Donnell.”

“Let’s hope they don’t check you out beyond old newspaper clippings.”

“Oh, I don’t know, it could prove interesting,” replied Jack.

Laura saw a bemused look on Jack’s face. “Okay. What is it?” she asked. “I haven’t seen a genuine smile on your face all night until now.”

Jack cast a sideways glance at Laura and said, “I presumed Goldie might want to check me out — but think about it. They obviously don’t have any real connections in Montreal yet. It would be a little like going to Chicago and asking about Al Capone back in the 1930s.”

“So they might hear some bad stories to support your cover story?”

Jack smiled and said, “There is something I neglected to mention to Rose. The real Happy Jack is a bona fide sociopath, on top of which he hates being referred to as Happy Jack. It wasn’t the media who first named him that. It was a title his enemies bestowed upon him, inferring that he was always drunk. Rumour is he shot someone in the balls once for calling him that.”

“No kidding?”

“Guess he has issues. Hope whoever decides to ask about Happy Jack has life insurance.”

“Oh, man,” mumbled Laura. Here we go again.

On the morning of the following Wednesday, Jack, Laura, and CC were invited to attend a meeting with Drug Section. When they all arrived, Sammy told them that they were expecting to end their undercover heroin operation within the next two or three days.

“I thought things were going well for you with the targets who hang out at Wang’s restaurant?” said CC.

“They are,” replied Sammy. “We’re using different operators for the ecstasy and meth. We hope to run that one for another month, depending upon whether or not the money holds out.”

Sammy passed Jack a couple of surveillance pictures of a man with a ponytail and a black goatee. “This is Jojo. So far he is the biggest fish we’ve caught. Our operator is going to approach him Friday and see if we can buy a kilo. We can’t spend the cash, so if he goes for it, we’ll bust him and whoever else shows up.”

Both Jack and Laura examined the photos carefully.

“When on Friday?” asked Jack.

“We don’t want to give Jojo any time to dick around. The operator will approach him early in the evening. Part of the cover story is that he’s a truck driver and has to be on the road by midnight.”

“You think Jojo can come up with a kilo that fast?” asked Jack.

“He told the operator he could come up with it on two hours’ notice. I don’t think Jojo is bullshitting. Last time we ordered a quarter pound from him, he went to Goldie Locks, then met our guy at a McDonald’s half an hour later and did the deal.”

“Think it will be the same restaurant?” asked Jack.

“Have no idea. The operator is going to try and push him to meet his source. Don’t know how that will go, but either way, I’m going to plunk myself in a corner at Goldie Locks before Jojo gets there. If he shows up, I should be in a position to see who he meets. I’ll have my cell. If that person goes somewhere, we’ll tail him and see if he takes us to a stash.”

“What can we do to help?” asked Jack.

“You know a lot of the regulars. I’m hoping whoever he meets might be somebody you can put a name to. You know how these things go. Whoever he meets could end up chatting with someone else and so on. Anything you can do to help identify these pricks the better. If you need to tell me something, make eye contact and I’ll meet you in the can.”

“We’re not in a position to help with any arrests or if something goes wrong,” said Laura. “We’ve got our own thing going on in there.”

“Yeah, I know. All I’m asking is for you to be our eyes and ears. Leave any rough stuff to us.”

“So why did you call me to this meeting?” asked CC. “You’re talking dope. I’m homicide.”

“Jojo is currently serving triple probation.”

“Triple probation?” asked CC. “How the hell does he do that?”

Sammy grimaced and said, “Very easily, I’m afraid. Welcome to the world of drug trafficking in B.C. He was convicted three times in the last two years for trafficking. He received probation each time and the sentences are overlapping each other. The only thing hurting him is his sides from laughing so much. I’m hoping this time might be different. If we nail him with a kilo, he could be looking at doing federal time. If you want us to try and roll him, we’re willing to do so.”

“You’d let him walk?” asked CC.

“If he can provide info on a homicide, sure. It’s your call.”

CC thought about it for a moment and shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but even if Jojo was somehow connected with Goldie and was able to give him to us, Goldie would serve less time than what Jojo is looking at. As I said before, his lawyer would put him on the stand and have him say he thought it was all a prank — that he didn’t really know what was going on.” CC slowly shook her head and looked at Sammy and said, “I don’t think it’s worth jeopardizing what you already have. In this case, it’s like having two birds in the hand and wanting to trade for one in the bush. Besides, would Jojo at his level be in with someone like Goldie? What do you think, Jack? Organized crime is your baby.”

Jack sighed and said, “Unfortunately, I agree with you completely. Goldie said he used his guys to grab the victim. He also said he told them it was a prank. Even if Jojo was one of those guys, it wouldn’t change anything as far as the courts go. Not to mention, whoever The Shaman and The Enabler are, they’re above Goldie and that makes them light years out of Jojo’s league.”

“Those two and the guy with dead eyes who wears a suit, as well,” added CC. She looked at Sammy and said, “Thanks for thinking about me, anyway. If something of interest comes up on the UC or wiretap involving Wang’s people, let me know.”

Once the meeting came to an end, CC asked Jack if she could talk to him in private for a moment.

They found a quiet spot in the hall to talk and Jack asked, “Any chance we could get a surreptitious warrant for Goldie’s home and businesses?”

“Not a chance with what we’ve got,” replied CC. “Better hope what you and Laura are doing will turn up something. That’s if it really was the same guy in the park that Goldie was talking about.”

“You still don’t think it is?”

“The small footprint still bugs me. I’m not completely convinced that it is.”

“I am,” replied Jack confidently. “So what’s up? What did you want to talk to me about?”

CC took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I have a confession to make. I spoke to Rose about you the other day.”

“You what? What about?”

CC glanced around and said, “You and I — well, you know what’s happened in previous murder investigations I’ve had. You’ve got to admit, you tend to stick your nose into investigations that you have no right to be involved in.”

“It’s not like they didn’t turn out well.”

“No, and I’m sure whoever the Coroners Service hired to keep up with the extra workload appreciates the work.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

CC put her hand up and said, “Stop. Don’t even go there.”

“What did you tell Rose?”

“I told her my concerns and gave her my honest opinion.”

“Which is?”

“I feel you get too emotionally involved with the victims. I could see it on your face when we listened to Goldie and Wang on the car bug. I understood when it was your niece and nephew. Even when those guys came after your last partner’s family, I understood. But with you, it doesn’t stop there. This file is just about some homeless guy —”

“That homeless guy has a name. It’s Melvin Montgomery.”

“See? That proves my point. You’re becoming emotional just talking about it. You should stick to whatever it is you do on Intelligence and leave the homicides to me.”

“This is organized crime,” replied Jack adamantly. “Big time.”

“Yeah, maybe we are into that now, but you didn’t know that when you first butted in.”

Jack silently reflected on his thoughts for a moment. “Okay,” he said, quietly. “Melvin was Natasha’s patient. She liked him and was afraid the investigation would get swept under the carpet.”

“I would never do that.”

“I know. I told her so. As far as me being emotionally attached to the victims, you’re probably right. Thanks for bringing it to my attention. I’ll try to make sure it doesn’t affect my judgment.”

CC paused as she looked at Jack before saying, “Fuck you. Don’t bullshit me. What do you think I am? Internal?”

“I’m not bullshitting. I’m married. My world has changed.”

“Yeah? Well, anyway, I wanted to apologize. I told Rose she should keep an eye on you. You’re a good cop. I don’t want to see you get in shit.”

Jack grinned momentarily, then said, “Don’t worry about it. I understand your point of view. We’re both trying to do the right thing.”

“Yeah, I know that. There is one more thing. When I was talking to Rose, I had the distinct impression she knew everything about your previous … uh, episodes. I think somebody else may have already spoken with her. You might want to keep your head up. Or is it down? Whatever. You know what I mean.”

“Thanks, CC. Appreciate it.”

On their way back to their office, Laura turned to Jack and asked, “What did CC want?”

“She apologized for speaking to Rose the other day. Feels guilty.”

“Good,” replied Laura.

“Rose said she probably would apologize. She could tell how guilty CC felt.”

At 8:30 Friday night, Jack and Laura sat in their usual spot in Goldie Locks. They were barely seated when Jack received a call from Sammy.

“I’ll be there any second,” said Sammy, speaking rapidly. “Our operator is with Jojo and heading your way. They’re only about two blocks behind me. Jojo is going to make our operator wait outside in his car while he goes in to talk with the man. Jojo is really pissed off and doesn’t want to do it, but our guy said for the amount he is buying, he wants to make sure he is guaranteed a better price next time and wants to be able to score if Jojo isn’t around. Jojo said he would ask, but I bet he doesn’t.”

“Good luck,” said Jack, hanging up his phone. He quickly relayed the information to Laura as Patty approached to take their order.

“Three-olive martini and a Bellini?” Patty asked, with a smile.

“Sounds good to start,” replied Jack.

“Uh, Mister Goldie said if I see you to let him know,” said Patty.

“Fine,” replied Jack. “Tell him we’re here.”

When Patty placed their order with Purvis and disappeared into the back of the club, Jack saw Sammy saunter in and take a seat on the opposite side of the club. It was a good spot. Between them, they would be able to watch everyone without having to leave their seats.

Moments later, Patty returned with their drinks and said, “Jack, Mister Goldie asked if you would meet him in his office for a moment. I think he is expecting an important call and doesn’t want to miss it.”

Jack looked at Laura and she said, “That’s okay, honey. I’ll wait.”

As Jack followed Patty he caught a glimpse of Jojo entering the club. He knew that Laura also saw him and continued to follow the waitress down a short hallway to Goldie’s office.

“Come on in,” said Goldie, looking up over the screen on his laptop and eyeing Jack carefully.

Any warmth Jack had detected in Goldie’s voice the last time they met was gone.

“Thanks, Patty,” said Goldie. “That is all. Close the door after you.”

Once Patty had left, Goldie arose from his desk and gestured for Jack to take a seat in a sitting area in his office that was composed of an overstuffed black-and-white cowhide patterned leather sofa and two matching leather chairs.

A glass coffee table in the centre contained a moss-filled, black clay pot sprouting a cluster of white orchids.

Jack selected a chair and Goldie sat across the table from him on the sofa.

“What is it, Arthur? You seem a little distraught?”

Goldie glared silently at Jack for a moment, his eyes studying Jack’s face for a response.

Ah, the psychological games we play, thought Jack. You bring me into your lair, close the door, and adopt an alpha-male attitude … Jack eyed the plant on the coffee table and smiled. He leaned forward, slightly turning the clay pot. “Beautiful. The moth orchid. They’re such an exotic flower. One of my favourites. A common variety perhaps, but beautiful, nonetheless.”

“Yes, it is.”

“So,” said Jack harshly, pointing his finger at Goldie. “We’re not here to discuss flowers. What’s on your mind?”

The change in Jack’s demeanour caught Goldie off guard and he automatically leaned back on the sofa. “Well … I received some rather disturbing news this morning. Rather upsetting. It concerns you.”

“Concerns me?” replied Jack. His tone was friendly again. His face showed surprise, as he turned the pot back to its original position.

Goldie felt a little confused. How will he respond? Admire my damned plant and smile … or reach in his pocket for a jackknife? Goldie took a deep breath, subconsciously crossed his legs and said, “It’s about an incident that happened in Montreal two nights ago. You didn’t hear about it?”

“I’ve been out boating for the last few days,” said Jack casually. “Haven’t stayed in touch with the news. I do have a few calls to return, but no indication of anything urgent. Why? I can’t imagine anything that would have any affect on you. Has the RCMP been around again making their usual vociferous and blasphemous accusations? I understood they had finished prodding into my affairs.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. Well, sort of. It was because of the visit I received from them that —”

“That what?” said Jack coldly.

“That, uh, tweaked my curiosity at little. I happened to mention the incident to a friend. Turns out he knew someone who happened to move to Montreal recently. A Mister Woo. Apparently your name came up in conversation between the two of them. Mister Woo and a friend of his happened to find themselves in an Irish pub two nights ago and Mister Woo took it upon himself to ask about you.”

“Mister Woo sounds like a very nosy person,” replied Jack. His voice was monotone and he showed no emotion.

“Anyone he spoke to said they had never heard of you.”

That’s hard to believe. He wouldn’t have bothered to call me in if that’s all there was to it. “See? It is as I said,” replied Jack. “The RCMP are completely wrong in their assumption that I am some type of gangster.”

“Later, when they left to go to their car, Mister Woo was attacked by several men and severely beaten with a baseball bat. His friend was told to stay out of the fracas or he would get the same.”

“Sounds unfortunate,” said Jack. “What with the economy the way it is, many poor people become desperate for money.”

“It wasn’t robbery,” said Goldie with determination. “They didn’t steal anything. As they were putting the boots to Mister Woo, their remarks indicated it was because he was rude to be asking questions, let alone insinuating that one of their friends was a drunk. By their accents, he knew they were all Irish.”

“He told one of them they were a drunk?”

Goldie shrugged and said, “He was being beaten so badly, plus English is a second language to them, they probably didn’t understand.”

“What an unfortunate incident,” said Jack, lightly. “Perhaps my people thought he was a cop or a reporter or something.”

“Your people?”

“Uh … I mean the Irish. Generally speaking. What with the problems over the years with the IRA, the British … you must understand what it was like. Old habits don’t go away so easily. Asking too many questions in an Irish pub can be detrimental to your health. I wouldn’t advise it, personally. How is the poor fellow? This Mister Woo?”

“He is out of intensive care, but he has two broken arms, a broken collarbone, and his jaw is wired shut. Some of his ribs are cracked, and on top of that, he will be in traction for the next six weeks.”

“Sounds like a most unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding! Who are you kidding? It was your people.”

Jack leaned forward, sticking one finger into the moss at the base of the orchid. “This orchid is far too dry,” he said. “It needs a wee touch. Keep this up and you’ll have to borrow an intravenous tube from nosy wee Woo to rescue it.”

“Did you listen when I told you what they did to him? The poor bastard can’t even wipe his own ass!”

“Well,” said Jack, calmly, “with his jaw wired shut, it isn’t like he is going to be eating much, anyway.”

Goldie’s mouth gaped open in surprise. He thought about Jack’s comment and started laughing.

19

Jack returned to where Laura was sitting as Jojo stood up from a bar stool and pulled out his wallet to pay for his drink. Sammy was still seated in the same place.

“What happened?” asked Jack.

“Think Jojo was jerking the operator around, or maybe killing time. He came in, sat at the bar, and ordered a drink. Kept looking at his watch and now it looks like he’s leaving. Didn’t talk to anyone else. How did it go with you?’

“Goldie took the bait. Had Woo check me out.”

“How did that go?”

“Really well.”

“Is Woo dead?”

“Didn’t go that well, but he is in hospital. Goldie is going to join us for a drink in a few minutes. I’ve got to talk with Sammy before he goes. Sit tight.”

A moment later, Jack met Sammy inside the washroom.

“Laura tell you?” asked Sammy.

Jack nodded.

“The bastard didn’t meet with anyone.”

“Use his phone?”

“Nope. Just sat at the bar and had a drink. You find out anything? Where did you go?”

“Chatting with Goldie in his office. Nothing that helps you.”

Sammy answered his cell and said, “I gotta go. Jojo is back in his car and the surveillance teams are on the move. Sounds like they’re going to another fast food joint.”

“The operator is wired?”

“Yeah. With this much cash, we’re not taking any chances.”

“Let me know as soon as any arrests are made. There is something I want you to do right after.”

“Sure, what?”

Jack showed Sammy a picture he had saved on his cellphone.

“What the fuck! That’s my ID photo from work,” said Sammy.

“I know. After the arrest, I want you to come back and meet with the bartender. His name is Purvis. Say you’re a friend of Jojo and warn him that Jojo got arrested.”

“Purvis is the man?”

“Has to be. The only guy Jojo talked to was Purvis. I’ve seen how Purvis dresses. He’s got bigger diamond rings on his fingers and more jewellery than a Hollywood mistress. His tips aren’t that good.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“I want you to say that the heat came down as Jojo was talking to you on your cell. Tell Purvis that Jojo sent you back to warn him.”

“Purvis will never fall for that.”

“I know. Besides, I’m going to burn you with Goldie before you arrive.”

“You’re what?”

“Come on, it’ll help me out. Busting Jojo will make people a little paranoid, especially when it comes out that you were doing surveillance in here. Do this for me and I’ll be able to story it in a way to take the heat off of this place. I don’t need Goldie thinking he is under the magnifying glass.”

Sammy thought about it momentarily and sighed. “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll call you on your cell. Guess I better dig my Kevlar out of the trunk,” he mumbled.

“Good idea,” said Jack, “but let me tell you how I hope it will go down.”

Jack and Laura smiled as Goldie joined them for a drink.

“This round is on me,” said Goldie. “Consider it an apology for having overly inquisitive friends.”

“Jack told me,” said Laura. “It sounds like Mister Woo was lucky.”

“Lucky?” replied Goldie.

“His body is intact, is it not?” replied Laura. She turned to Jack and said, “They didn’t! Tell me poor wee Woo still has his winky!”

“Oh, honey,” said Jack, smiling. “The boys didn’t do that. They only roughed him up a little for fun. Don’t be giving Arthur the wrong impression!”

“For fun?” Arthur noted admonishingly.

Jack’s face instantly hardened and his tone became serious as he looked at Goldie and said, “I dislike violence. I’m not a violent man by nature.”

The abrupt change in Jack’s demeanour caught Goldie off guard. You may dislike violence, but there is no doubt that you have no qualms about using it …

Jack’s face softened and a whimsical smile appeared. “I suppose I should apologize,” he said. “Maybe send him some candy. Perhaps some toffee to chew on while he reflects upon his nosy ways.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” said Goldie, unsure whether he was supposed to laugh or not. He glanced quickly at Laura before looking at Jack and whispering, “I suppose I should not have made that comment in front of Laura about having overly inquisitive friends.”

“It’s okay,” replied Jack. “Laura is not kept in the dark on such matters. Anything you say to me can be said in front of her.”

“I see,” said Goldie. “No insult was intended,” he added, looking at Laura.

“Just don’t refer to me as madam,” said Laura.

Goldie looked puzzled. “I’m not sure what you —”

“On the matter of you checking me out,” said Jack firmly, changing the subject.

“I wasn’t really,” replied Goldie. “I happened to mention you to —”

“Listen,” said Jack coldly. “There is an old Irish expression that says it is better to have fifty enemies outside your house than one in it.”

The comment caught Goldie off guard and he hesitated, unsure of how to respond.

“I understand the need to check people out,” continued Jack, sounding matter-of-fact. “I do so myself on occasion. But there are enough troubles in the world without insulting each other’s intelligence. If you and I are to become better acquainted, I suggest we start by being honest from the beginning. Agreed?”

Goldie stared silently at his glass. After a moment he looked at Jack and said, “Agreed.”

“Good,” said Jack, raising his martini. “Then with that I will propose a toast to new friendships.”

After the three of them clinked glasses, Jack smiled and raised his glass in Goldie’s direction again and said, “May your troubles be as few and as far apart as my grandmother’s teeth.”

Goldie chuckled and sat back and smiled.

Jack smiled back. The hook is in, you bastard. Wonder if you would mind if I drove you to a park? Let you run around awhile …

The next forty-five minutes passed with the three of them making idle conversation before Sammy called Jack.

“You free to talk?” asked Sammy.

“No, not at all. Just sitting with Laura and … a friend, having a drink.”

“Okay if I talk?” asked Sammy.

“You’re not interfering at all.”

“We just took Jojo down in a restaurant bathroom,” said Sammy. “He was showing the operator the kilo. Went like last time except it was a Tim Hortons. Surveillance saw him pick the kilo up from under a bush outside the restaurant. The restaurant is crowded. I’m sure whoever laid it down is probably watching and will soon see Jojo leave in cuffs. Your end will know Jojo was busted soon enough. Still want me to come back there?”

“Of course.”

“Be there in ten minutes. If I get shot, I’m not going down without shooting you, too,” said Sammy as he hung up.

Jack still pretended to talk on his cell and said, “The chat room? I think so, hang on.” Jack looked at Goldie and asked, “Could I borrow the laptop in your office for a moment? Are you hooked up to the Internet?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it out. We’re on wireless.”

“That won’t be necessary. Actually it would be better for you to come with me and talk about something in private,” said Jack, glancing around at some patrons sitting nearby. He spoke back into his phone and said, “Two minutes. Get online.”

Moments later, Jack used Goldie’s laptop while Goldie watched him patiently from his sofa. When Jack was finished, he turned the computer off, shook his head, and snickered.

“Everything okay?” asked Goldie.

“I just found out why the RCMP decided to talk to you about me the other night,” said Jack. “Turns out it was a coincidence.”

“A coincidence?”

“Yes. They’re working on some heroin dealer associated with your club. Guess they started running licence plates in the vicinity and discovered I was a customer. Typical. They jumped to the wrong conclusion and thought I was involved.”

“Heroin dealer … in my club?” said Goldie, looking concerned.

“Nickel-and-dime stuff. Some street urchin dealing a pound or two.”

“You call a pound or two nickel and dime?”

Jack continued as if he didn’t hear him. “Rather insulting that they would think I would stoop to that level.”

“Did your friend say who it was the police were working on?”

“Yes. Some punk. The police realize that my being here was a coincidence. Apparently there was an undercover cop in earlier tonight watching this dealer.”

“Did you get the … uh, punk’s name?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can’t remember. I deleted everything, including the trash bin. It was an odd name. Something like Mojo. Not really important. My friend also sent me a photo of the undercover officer … hang on, my phone vibrated. Probably it.”

Goldie looked at the photo of Sammy on Jack’s phone and asked, “Would you mind if I show this to my bartender. Just to see if he’s been in?”

“Sorry, no,” replied Jack, deleting the photo. “Purvis seems like a nice guy, but I don’t want word getting out that I have access to cop photos. It could cause a huge problem for the person who is helping me.”

“I trust Purvis,” said Goldie. “He wouldn’t tell anyone about the photo.”

“I had a tough time deciding on whether or not to tell you.” Jack paused, as if deciding upon a course of action. “Tell you what, give Purvis a description of what you remember in the photo, but don’t tell him you actually saw a photo. Ask him if he knows this Mojo character. Okay?”

“Okay,” agreed Goldie.

“I’ll wait. If there are any other concerns you might wish me to help you with, I may need to borrow your computer again.”

Laura saw Goldie come out from the back of the club and hurry over to speak with Purvis. Seconds later, Purvis used his cellphone, but quickly hung up and slammed his fist onto the counter. Goldie said something to him and then retreated back to his office while Purvis paced back and forth behind the bar.

“Did Purvis know Mojo?” asked Jack when Goldie returned to his office.

“Yes. His name is actually Jojo.”

“Jojo! Yes, that was it. If he and Purvis are friends, I would suggest he warn him somehow. But keep in mind that Jojo’s phone could be tapped.”

“He already tried to call him. Someone else answered.”

“Not a good sign,” replied Jack.

Goldie eyed Jack carefully and said, “Remember when you said we should be honest with each other?”

“Of course.”

Goldie nodded and said, “Let’s step out back in the alley for some fresh air. There is something I want to tell you.”

“Your office isn’t bugged,” said Jack.

“You know that? How can you be sure?”

“I’m positive. Otherwise I would not have borrowed your laptop, let alone used this room to tell you what I did.”

Goldie eyed Jack curiously and said, “I take it you have a very good friend to keep you so well informed?”

“Blood is thicker than water and easier to see,” shrugged Jack. “Kinship is important.”

Goldie smiled. “I think you and I will become good friends.”

“Oh?”

“You see, I also have an entrepreneurial spirit. We have things in common, not to mention that I also use chat rooms for communication. We should get to know each other better.”

“If Jojo was arrested, does it affect you?” asked Jack, sounding surprised.

“No, not at all. We’ve never met. As you say, he is a nickel-and-dime operator. Hardly worth —”

Purvis burst into the room. “He’s here! He just walked in!”

“Who?” asked Goldie.

“The … uh,” Purvis stopped talking when he saw Jack.

“It’s okay,” said Goldie. “Jack is my new friend. He knows you and Jojo are acquainted.”

“The guy you described,” said Purvis. “The undercover cop. He just came in and beelined straight for me. Says his name is Sammy.”

“He didn’t try to arrest you?” asked Goldie.

“Not yet. He told me he is in business with Jojo and that Jojo just got busted with a key of smack. He said Jojo got word to him to come and warn me! What the fuck? What should we do?”

“What did you say to him?” asked Goldie.

“Told him my boss wanted something and I’d be back in a second. What the hell should I do? He obviously suspects me from when he was in earlier and saw Jojo meet with me. It could be my neck on the line.”

“Perfect,” snickered Jack. “Sammy the narc is trying to incriminate you or set you up.”

“No shit,” replied Purvis.

“Want to get rid of him for good?” asked Jack. “Nice and clean with no heat on you or the club?”

Sammy was surprised when Purvis came back to the bar and smiled at him and said, “You say you’re Jojo’s partner and he got busted with a kilo of heroin?”

“Yeah,” replied Sammy.

Purvis looked nervously around and said, “Give me a minute to look after some other customers. I want to talk to you about it. Would you like a drink on the house?”

“Thanks,” replied Sammy, trying to keep his suspicion from showing. “Canadian Club on ice with Coke on the side.”

“Sure thing. CC on the rocks with a side of Coke.”

Sammy watched carefully as Purvis prepared the drink and passed it to him. He was not taking any chances on being drugged.

Purvis smiled. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve taken care of the other customers.

Sammy watched as Purvis puttered around at the far end of the bar.

“Come on, Purv’, you’re slower than hell tonight,” complained one of the waitresses.

Sammy’s attention was concentrated on Purvis and he did not see the arrival of two newcomers into the club. He was taking a sip when he felt the muzzle of a pistol on his back.

20

It was quarter to three in the morning. Jack and Laura sat with Goldie as one of the bouncers let the last of the other customers out the door before relocking it. Jack saw Patty cashing out at the register while Purvis put away some clean glasses behind the bar.

“I’ll be right back,” said Goldie. “There is something I would like to talk to you about before you go.”

Jack saw Laura’s raised eyebrows as she gave him an optimistic grin.

He shrugged in response and said, “I’m going to drop a twenty for Purvis before he goes.”

As Jack approached the bar, he heard Goldie say to Patty, “I’m having a party at my house next Saturday night. How would you like to be my date?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Mister Goldie, but I have a boyfriend,” she replied. “Thank you, anyway.”

“Not a problem,” replied Goldie.

Jack walked to the end of the bar where Purvis was working and reached over to place twenty dollars in a tip glass.

“No, Jack,” said Purvis smiling. “Please, I appreciate it, but I feel I owe you tonight.”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” replied Jack.

“Your bill is on the house tonight,” said Goldie, as he walked over.

“Hardly necessary,” replied Jack.

“Look at it as part of my apology for having nosy friends.”

Jack smiled and said, “Apology accepted.”

“Now,” said Goldie, “may I have Purvis mix us one more round?”

“You’re asking an Irishman if he wants a free drink?” chuckled Jack.

“I’ll have Patty bring them over. I’ll join you in a sec.”

As Jack turned to leave, he heard Goldie say to Purvis, “Find a reason to fire Patty. I want her gone within the week.”

Minutes later, both Jack and Laura masked their feelings with a smile as Goldie sat across from them and said, “Wow! That was quite a night.”

“Hope the action didn’t scare off any customers,” said Jack.

“Are you kidding?” replied Goldie. “Everyone thought it was hilarious! I bet it will bring us more business.”

“That undercover officer must have had the shock of his life,” said Laura.

Goldie laughed and said, “I came out just as it happened. Too bad you couldn’t see his face! I almost pissed my pants trying not to laugh. Same for Purv’. Damned hard to keep a straight face.”

“I don’t think he saw it coming,” said Jack.

“Those uniformed cops weren’t taking any chances,” said Goldie. “When they found his gun they had him handcuffed behind his back so fast and face-first down on the bar — I thought he would break his nose.”

“Made Purvis look good, calling it in,” said Jack.

“It was perfect. Makes the club look good, too. Excuse me, nine-one-one,” said Goldie, sounding officious while holding his hand up by his ear to simulate a telephone. “I have a drug trafficker in my club saying he and his partner sold a kilo of heroin a few minutes ago. He said the police showed up and arrested his partner, but he escaped. Perhaps you would like to pick him up?” Goldie then broke down laughing. “Oh, Jack. You’re the best. The absolute best!” said Goldie, raising a glass of Tyrconnell on ice in a toast to Jack.

“It must have been embarrassing for the undercover officer to apologize to Purvis,” said Laura.

“Oh, that was fantastic,” said Goldie. “Telling him he was guessing that Purvis was somehow connected and was only doing his job to find out. His face was the colour of the cherries that Purvis keeps behind the bar. He couldn’t apologize enough for all the trouble he caused.”

“Enough of that,” said Jack, not wanting to be reminded any further of the favour he owed Sammy. “You mentioned that there was something you wished to talk to us about?”

“Yes,” replied Sammy. “I’m throwing myself a birthday party next Saturday at my house. I was hoping you both could come?”

“We’d be delighted to,” said Jack.

“We should exchange phone numbers,” suggested Goldie.

“Good idea,” replied Jack.

“Your birthday is next Saturday?” asked Laura.

“Well, actually on the following Thursday, but I thought Saturday would be better for the party. And please, no gifts.”

Jack smiled. Maybe play a party game. You can dress as a piñata and I’ll bring Patty along to beat you with a stick.

“I’ve traded in my Aston Martin for a new Ferrari 612 Scaglietti,” bragged Goldie. “It should arrive this week. That will be plenty gift enough.”

“Turning forty?” asked Laura, with a smile.

Goldie smiled back. “Actually, I’ll be forty-four. And I know what you’re both thinking. I am not having a mid-life crisis. At least, I don’t think I am.”

Laura smiled. Actually I was thinking you are likely compensating for having a small penis.

Jack didn’t smile as he thought, Buddy, believe me, you are far past “mid” life.

“I’m heading home,” said Purvis as he approached the table. “Wish to thank you again Jack, for a fun night.”

“No problem.”

“Purvis,” said Goldie seriously, “You will be a very good boy for the next few months, correct?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry,” said Purvis, before leaving.

Jack raised his glass to Goldie and said, “Sláinte!”

“Sláinte?” asked Goldie.

“Irish for ‘cheers,’” replied Laura.

“God, you’re a fun group, you Irish,” said Goldie.

“You’ve got no idea,” replied Jack.

Another mid-week meeting with Jack, Laura, Sammy, and CC went about as well as Jack expected.

“I ran everything past the prosecutor,” said CC. “She reviewed all your notes. There is nothing to confirm that Goldie is personally involved with anything criminal.” She looked at Jack and added, “And I didn’t raise the small footprint issue. She did, but said regardless, even if it had been an adult-sized print, there are no grounds to substantiate a wiretap application.”

“Too bad,” said Jack. “He trusts me enough to think his office is free from bugs. It could be good. He told me he uses chat rooms to communicate. I’d love to have spyware on his laptop. You can bet that is how he keeps in touch with The Enabler.”

“Sorry,” said CC, “unless you come up with something more, warrants and bugs are out.”

“Same for drugs,” said Sammy. “We never got anything on Jojo’s phone to indicate Goldie was involved. In fact, we never even had him call Purvis. Although, from what you said, it sounds like he’ll be clean for awhile to ensure there’s no heat.”

“Maybe The Enabler will be invited to his birthday party,” said CC.

“I doubt it,” said Laura. “If he and Wang are afraid to even mention his real name when they talk, I doubt they would invite him to a party.”

“I agree,” said Jack, “but CC, if you’re available it might be nice to scoop some plates and see who does show up.”

“I’ll make myself available,” she replied. “So where does that leave you two?”

“Guess it leaves us time to party,” said Jack.

Goldie’s waterfront home on Lower Bellevue Avenue in West Vancouver afforded a view of Burrard Inlet from the rear. A towering hedge along the front of the property ensured privacy to anyone passing. An interlocking brick driveway wound its way up to the two-storey Tudor-style home.

It was ten o’clock at night when Jack and Laura were let in by one of the caterers, and the house was crowded. They were late, but Jack wanted to ensure that none of the two dozen licence plate numbers obtained by CC belonged to anyone he or Laura knew from their past. None did, although many of the owners were known in police intelligence reports as either suspected drug importers or financial backers for those who did.

“Hey! My Irish rogue!” shouted Goldie gleefully as he pushed his way through the crowd, slopping champagne onto his pants leg as he walked over.

“Looks like he started the party at noon,” whispered Laura.

Goldie embraced Jack like he was a missing relative and then leered at Laura and said, “A birthday kiss for an old gentleman, my lady?”

“Certainly,” replied Laura, sidestepping away as Goldie lurched forward. “But that will be next Thursday, so you will have to wait.”

“Ooow, wicked you are to make me wait,” said Goldie, “but I’ll hold you to it. Come on in and make yourself at home. I’ve hired a bartender who you’ll find set up in the dining room, and there’s plenty of food.”

The next two hours went by without incident and Jack and Laura mingled with the crowd, making small talk, while Goldie spent the time draped over a young woman.

“Notice our Chinese friend from the restaurant isn’t here,” observed Jack, quietly.

“Yes, I noticed dear Mister Wang is conspicuous by his absence.”

“I suspect their affiliation is strictly business. Between them and The Enabler,” replied Jack.

“Making The Enabler a rather interesting character if he controls two completely different drug syndicates.”

“Exactly.” Jack nodded toward the young woman who was receiving Goldie’s attention. “Any idea who she is?”

“Told me her name is Candy,” replied Laura. “Coke slut, I think. She offered me some earlier on the way to the washroom. Her sister is with one of the other guests.”

Jack saw Candy giggle as Goldie peeked in the top of her blouse before pretending to slap his hand away.

“Nice,” commented Laura. “I was with her for about a minute and she mentioned twice about how rich Goldie must be. Coke slut or hooker. Take your pick.”

“Is there a difference?” asked Jack. “Either one will do anything for —”

“To Arthur!” yelled one of the guests. “Hope you have the best birthday ever!”

Goldie seemed to appreciate the applause and his head wobbled around looking at the crowd until he spotted Jack. “Hey, Jack, my buddy! You got one of them Irish toasts you could give me?”

The crowd fell silent as everyone turned to look at Jack. He nodded, raising his glass and said, “We drink to your coffin.”

Laura heard the gasp from several people. Oh, man …

After a pause, Jack continued, “May it be built from the wood of a hundred-year-old oak tree …” He looked around the room and added, “that I shall plant tomorrow.”

Goldie howled with laughter and made his way toward Jack.

Jack looked at Laura and whispered, “You have any idea how much I hated adding that last part?”

“Jack, Laura,” said Goldie. “Come with me. You gotta see this!”

Jack and Laura followed Goldie as he led them down a hall and through a door leading into his three-car attached garage.

One spot was empty, one was taken up by a speedboat, and in the third spot was a Ferrari 612 Scaglietti that reflected the overhead light like a shiny black emerald.

“What do ya think?” asked Goldie, beaming while groping inside his pants pockets with both hands at the same time. “Wanna, want … want me to take you both for a spin?” he said, pulling out a keychain and dangling it in the air.

“Not tonight,” replied Jack. “You’ve had too much to drink. This car is too beautiful to risk damaging.”

“Ah, my lucky rabbit’s foot will protect us,” said Goldie, indicating the white stump of animal hair dangling from his keychain.

It reminded Jack of a three-legged cat in an alley and he unconsciously clenched his fist. He glanced at Laura and saw a quick flash of disgust cross her face before she regained her composure. He knew she felt more compassionate about animals being killed than people. Or at least, some people. Now I’m starting to feel the same way …

“So what say? The cat got your tongue?” asked Goldie.

“No, not tonight,” Jack said. “It really is awesome. I’ve never seen a car like it.” Jack then approached the car and slowly walked around it, looking inside as he went.

“Take a look inside,” said Goldie opening the car door. “Go ahead, sit behind the wheel.”

Laura felt it might be an opportune time to let Jack talk in private with Goldie so she said, “It’s beautiful, but I’m not really into the car thing. I’ll see you when you come back inside.”

“Laura, wait!” ordered Jack. He glanced at Goldie and said, “Would you show her the car? She won’t appreciate it until she sees all the detail. I have to go to the bathroom, but I’ll be right back.”

“Sure thing,” replied Goldie, getting in to the driver’s seat. “Laura, hop in beside me,” he yelled.

Jack pretended to kiss Laura on the side of her neck as he was leaving. “Keep him busy,” he whispered. “Don’t let him out of the garage until I get back.”

“Not a problem. Did you see his keychain? I’m going to slap a sleeper hold on him, start his car and euthanize him. Why, what’s up?”

CC answered her phone and recognized Jack’s voice.

“I was just in Goldie’s garage. There’s a workbench there with a box of garbage bags on it. The clear plastic type. Same as what was over Melvin’s head.”

“It could be a coincidence,” replied CC.

“Yeah, it could be, but what if it isn’t? Are you sure we can’t get a warrant? If the next bag on the roll is sequential to the one used on Melvin, the lab can match it.”

“Goddamn it,” muttered CC. “I’m going to call the prosecutor at home. Can I call you back?”

“Hurry.”

The minutes ticked by and Jack hoped that Laura was keeping Goldie occupied. What am I thinking … Goldie is loving the moment. That’s if Laura hasn’t killed him. He answered his phone on the first ring.

“Sorry,” said CC. “No can do. Wrong foot size, all that bullshit.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked Jack.

“Without a warrant we could never get it admitted as evidence,” said CC.

“The bag could be used or gone soon. It has to be the next bag in sequence or there’s no use.”

“That’s if it is from that roll and if it’s not already gone,” said CC.

“Would you like to find out?”

The seconds ticked past as CC thought it over.

“There is a limited window of opportunity at the moment,” said Jack. “Has to be now or never. Going, going —”

“Okay, damn it. Do it!”

21

The RCMP laboratory opened Monday morning. Jack was the first in line. The lab still had the other plastic bag provided to them by CC.

Later that afternoon, Jack received the call from CC that he had been waiting for.

“Jack, the lab says it’s a match,” said CC. Her voice sounded hollow and empty. “Guess you were right about Goldie. I can forget about my kids theory.”

“That’s great it matched,” replied Jack. “The bastard did bring Melvin to the park. We’re on the right track. Now we have to find out who The Enabler is and the guy in the suit described as having dead eyes.”

“There’s a problem … huge,” mumbled CC. She spoke like she was in pain, as if someone had beaten her stomach and ribcage with a hockey stick.

Jack realized that CC was fighting back tears. “CC? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I fucked up,” she cried. “Tree of the poisoned fruit or something. No, that’s not it.”

“What? You’re not making sense.”

“Fruit of the poisonous tree. That’s it. That’s what the prosecutor just told me. The garbage bag, we can’t —”

“I know. We can’t use it in evidence. We knew that. It’s too bad but at least we know we’re on the right trail. We’ll get other proof.”

“No, it’s much worse,” sniffled CC. “The prosecutor was screaming at me she was so fucking mad. She said that we might as well have given Goldie permanent immunity from prosecution for it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked Jack, feeling a sense of dread ooze through his body like a parasitic disease.

“Because we stole the garbage bag, not only can’t it be used, but she says any evidence we gather on Goldie from here on in is tainted because we’re using illegally obtained evidence as the catalyst to further our investigation. If we didn’t know about the garbage bag in his garage as being literally connected to the one at the murder scene, we wouldn’t have continued to pursue the investigation on Goldie.”

“Bullshit!” yelled Jack angrily. “I was working on the premise from what Goldie said in Wang’s car that he was involved. Not to mention, the trail of the gun that Laura and I followed. Even if the garbage bag hadn’t matched, I wouldn’t have given up!”

“I know. That’s how I perceived it. The prosecutor says different … or at least says a judge would say different. The evidence leading up to stealing the bag is admissible. What was said in the car was under a legal wiretap.”

“Yeah, which means squat,” replied Jack. “Even you weren’t convinced they were talking about the same incident. Jesus! Now you’ve got me saying it.”

“Saying what?”

“Incident. Like, oh, well, guess we have to let this incident slide and work on some other incident. These incidents are murder! Now the murderers walk because I stole a garbage bag?”

“It’s not your fault. I’m the primary investigator and I was the one who told you to do it.”

“Yeah, with me prodding you and putting you on the spot saying we didn’t have much time. I knew it was wrong. I just didn’t realize how wrong.”

“I should have known better.”

“What about this Enabler, The Shaman character, or the guy with dead eyes? What if we find out who they are?”

“The angle I think you need to pursue is that you’re investigating Goldie for drugs and these others are his bosses. But as far as nailing Goldie for his part in the murder, I think you better forget about it.”

“I am investigating them for drugs. By coincidence, Melvin is a priority above and beyond that.”

“You don’t need to convince me. Save all that for the courts,” said CC. “Won’t take a defence lawyer long to bring up reasonable doubt to some juror.”

Jack stared briefly at the phone in his hand. So if all goes well, maybe Goldie could get a one- or two-year stint in jail for drug trafficking? How do I explain that to Natasha?

“What’s going on?” asked Laura, once Jack hung up.

“No use explaining it twice,” said Jack. “Come on, I better tell Rose how I screwed up.”

Both Rose and Laura looked as sick as Jack felt once he finished explaining the situation.

“I’ll back you if any complaints come from Department of Justice,” sighed Rose.

“I don’t give a damn about DOJ,” said Jack. “Once I stop to think about it, it’s not like Goldie would have received any real time in jail even if we did have a warrant. Defence would have tabled it as a prank gone awry. He really might spend more time in jail on drugs. Will our budget allow Laura and me to continue in that regard?”

“Maybe if you would quit dropping fifty-dollar tips, it might,” replied Rose. “No, wait, it seems to me the one you claimed Saturday night was a hundred.”

“That was an exception,” said Jack. “A young woman by the name of Patty. I think it was her last shift. Besides, we didn’t claim any drinks that night, so it balances out.”

“Relax,” said Rose. “I wasn’t really serious, although money is an issue. We’re no different than the narcs when it comes to that. Our budget isn’t going to let you go out and start buying kilos.”

“I’m hoping they think we’re above that level,” said Jack. “I think if we get an offer, it will be something far more substantial. These guys are definitely worth pursuing. I’m certain that Goldie is about to take me into his confidence. Our priority is to identify whoever is above him.”

“I agree,” said Rose. “Keep playing it as you have been and keep me in the loop. Once they’re identified, we can reassess the situation.”

“Will do,” said Jack. “I don’t think it will take very —” He paused to answer his cellphone and made a slash sign across his throat with one finger as he looked at Rose.

Rose took her desk phone off the hook as she and Laura watched.

“Arthur! Good to hear from you,” answered Jack.

22

“What’s the name of this spot again?” asked Laura as she drove along West Broadway.

“Regal Beagle,” replied Jack. “Keep driving, it’s up in the twenty-two-hundred block.

“You pick it, or Goldie?”

“It was my choice. Great spot. Small pub with an Asian restaurant attached to it. For pub food, it has some of the best. One of the owners makes his own pickled green beans that they put in a lot of the drinks.”

“Pickled green beans?” said Laura, wrinkling her nose.

“Calls them Blaze’s Beans. Beats a stick of celery in a Caesar. Try it sometime. You’ll like it.”

“I would if I was invited.”

“Sorry about that. He was adamant about talking to me in private first. He said once I heard what he had to say, if I still wanted to tell you it would be okay.”

“You want me to park out front and sit in the car? A little subservient if we want him to respect me.”

“Park a couple of blocks away. I’m not worried about my safety. He won’t be searching me in a place like this. I’m going to be packing my piece, so don’t fret. I’ll tell him you’re off shopping, but will be back by five o’clock for drinks and supper. Should be enough time for him to say what he has to say.”

“Great. While I’m waiting I think I’ll call Natasha and tell her you’re off drinking and getting your bean snapped.”

“My what? Where did you pick up that expression?” said Jack, chuckling.

It made Laura feel relieved. Jack’s mood since CC called him had not been good. He was taking the garbage bag fiasco personally. Too personally.

Jack entered the pub and spotted Goldie drinking a glass of white wine. Jack joined him and ordered a Caesar with two Blaze’s Beans. The waiter had barely left the table when Goldie outlined his real business to Jack, starting years earlier when he was arrested at a Burmese checkpoint near the border to Thailand and was saved by a man he called The Enabler. He told Jack his couriers, along with his shipment of heroin, were also detained, but later both the couriers and the heroin were once more on their way.

“And the man you call The Enabler saved you?” asked Jack.

“I probably owe him my life. Since then, life has been one big gravy train. I know you have the connections back east. Jump on the gravy train with me and we’ll both get rich together.”

“So, if I have it right,” said Jack, “The Enabler is a middle man. He knows everyone from the poppy growers up to the drug warlords to the police, customs officials … everyone.”

“You got it. At least as far as the Asian countries go. Specifically heroin. He enables everything to run smoothly and efficiently. All the buyers do is pay a small commission based on how much weight is being transported. Because of the volume involved around the world, he also gets the best price. Even with the commission, you still come out way ahead. Then every dealer down to the five-kilo level pays a commission that is distributed back up the ladder.”

“It’s a pyramid scheme,” said Jack. “The more dealers I would have working for me, the more commission everyone gets, and the more money we make.”

“Exactly.”

“So in a way, we’re all working for The Enabler.”

“We are for the one in Vancouver. I understand there are a few other Enablers spread around the globe.”

“So The Enabler isn’t the top boss?”

“No, there are a couple of people above that level. I’ve never met any of the other Enablers or the top boss. Only the Enablers know who it is. As things stand now, in a few months the organization wants me to take over The Enabler’s role in Vancouver. He is being promoted to the number two man in the organization.”

Jack didn’t respond as he slowly took his time to crunch through a pickled bean while Goldie leaned forward, waiting in anticipation for his response.

“Damn it, what do you think?” asked Goldie, no longer able to contain his emotion.

Jack stared at him blankly and said, “I’ll give you a shot.” And I mean that, literally …

“That’s great!”

“Small to start with,” continued Jack. “Only one ton on the first transaction to make sure everything runs smoothly. And that is only if the price is right, the product good, and you can guarantee safe delivery to Vancouver.”

Surprise registered on Goldie’s face. “One ton is small to you? Christ, you’re tied into the New York markets, aren’t you?”

Jack countered with another question, “I’m from the east, aren’t you tied into the U.S. markets in the west?”

“Nothing like you are,” admitted Goldie. “Purvis has a contact in Seattle, but strictly low level by your standards. Five or ten kilos here and there. The quantity you talk about is huge.”

“Perhaps over The Enabler’s capabilities?” asked Jack.

“No, certainly not,” Goldie hastened to say. “As I said, he controls Asia. We can definitely accommodate that,” he added, while figuring out his commission based on a one-ton shipment.

“And the money transaction?” asked Jack.

“The Enabler is well connected to financial institutions. The organization even owns some banks in certain countries. I think we can come to an agreeable method of transferring the money, once we agree on price.”

“Before that happens,” said Jack, “I would have to meet The Enabler. With the millions we’re talking about, I want to know who I’m in bed with.”

Goldie’s face reflected his sorrow and fear that their intended business partnership could go awry. “Sorry, Jack. I already told The Enabler all about you. He is pleased, but at the same time, is adamant about not meeting you.”

“Well, I’m adamant about meeting him.”

Goldie shook his head and said, “They’re really paranoid about protecting their identities. He described it like protective layers on an onion. Something about it becoming more intense the closer you get to the core. Either way, it won’t really matter. In a few months I’ll be The Enabler and you and I already know each other.”

“So there is no way you could convince him to meet with me?”

“Not a chance. I already tried. I have to admit, I’m impressed with you. I was hoping to introduce you and show you off, but he rejected the idea immediately. Like I said, they are extremely cautious. Hell, do you know that before I become The Enabler they are going to make me take a lie detector?”

“You’re kidding?”

“No, I’m not. It was also made clear to me if I fail the test I’m dead. So I’m telling you, once you get in, you better get in all the way. There’s no fucking around with these people.”

“Well, count me in,” said Jack, cheerily.

Moments later, Goldie prepared to leave, but asked, “You mentioned Laura is meeting you for supper later?”

Jack nodded.

“Tell her she still owes me a birthday kiss on Thursday. See you both at the club then?”

“You will. Drive carefully. Don’t smack up that new Ferrari of yours.”

Goldie smiled and shook his head. “You should feel it go,” he said. “Runs like a dream. You barely think of passing someone and the next thing you know it’s already happened.”

Jack nodded politely and as soon as Goldie left, he paid the bill and called Laura.

“He just left,” said Jack. “It went fabulously. He told me everything. Hurry and pick me up. I need to get back to the office. I’ve got a ton of notes to make.”

“Be there in a couple of minutes,” replied Laura. “Traffic is heavy. No place to park, so meet me on the curb.”

Jack stepped outside. The traffic was congested, but in a car across the street he spotted the familiar mop of brown hair that Laura had described as looking like a dead rat. Jack peered closer and saw Goldie edging forward in the traffic … driving a red Ford Taurus. Goldie was concentrating on the traffic and did not see Jack.

Jack swore under his breath and pushed redial. “Exactly where are you?”

“Curb lane westbound, a block and a half away. Hold your horses. You only called me less than a —”

“Goldie just left, going eastbound driving a red Ford Taurus. Follow him, but make damned certain he doesn’t see you! Lose him if you have to, rather than be burned.”

“Why? What is —”

“Talk to you in a sec. Don’t hang up. I’m going to commandeer somebody’s car!”

Jack waited for an opportunity before seeing a young couple driving a black Pontiac Grand Am stuck in traffic several car lengths behind Goldie. The Pontiac was tucked in tight behind a large truck and Jack knew that Goldie couldn’t see it from his position.

Jack used a passing transit bus for cover, darted across the street toward the Pontiac, and tapped on the driver’s window. The man driving looked startled, but rolled the window down enough to speak. “I’m an RCMP officer,” said Jack, quickly showing his badge. “My name is Jack Taggart and I need your car to follow somebody.”

Traffic started to move and someone in a car behind them started beeping their horn.

“Hop in,” said the young man, opening his door and leaning forward in the seat so Jack could get in the back of his car.

“No, I want to —” The sound of more horns convinced Jack to quickly squeeze into the back seat. “What are your names?” he asked.

“Hi, I’m Steven Thomas —”

“And I’m Kelly McMahon,” said the young woman excitedly. “Who are we following?”

“We? Okay … Steven, keep going straight.”

“If I have to run a red light, will you pay my ticket?” he asked.

“Only if I tell you to do it. Hang on. I need to speak to my partner.”

“Jack!” said Laura. “What the heck is going on? He went past me going the other way. I don’t think I can get turned around in this traffic in time to catch him. Sounds like you grabbed someone’s car?”

“He bought a new sports car. Says it runs great. Why is he driving a red Taurus?” Jack peered out the back window and saw Laura cutting into the centre lane as she looked for an opening to turn around.

“The red car ahead that just made a left turn?” asked Steven.

“What? Yeah, that one,” said Jack. “See if you can follow him, but drive carefully. It’s not worth anybody getting hurt.”

“Must be worth something for you to do this,” said Steven.

“Laura, he turned northbound on Burrard,” said Jack.

“So why is he driving this car instead of his other one?” asked Kelly.

“His other one is much fancier. Stands out,” said Jack.

“So he’s doing something he shouldn’t be and doesn’t want to get noticed,” said Steven.

“Uh … exactly. Do you mind telling me what it is you two do for a living?”

“I work for an online advertising agency in Victoria,” said Steven. “It’s called Neverblue.”

“I’m with London Drugs,” replied Kelly. “Why?”

“Steven seems rather astute when it comes to bad guys.”

Jack caught Steven’s smile in the rear-view mirror. “My dad is a retired RCMP officer,” he said. “I’ve heard a few things.”

Jack smiled back and said, “Good. Do you know the city well?”

“Vancouver? No way,” said Steven, shaking his head. “We’ve been lost for an hour driving around.”

“Wonderful,” muttered Jack.

“It’s my fault,” said Kelly. “We are supposed to meet my dad but I’ve only been to his new house a couple of times. We’re completely lost.”

“Pull this off and I’ll buy you a tank of gas and lead you there personally,” said Jack. “I would only ask that you don’t mention any of the details about this to anyone.”

“I understand. We won’t,” replied Steven.

“Is he really dangerous?” asked Kelly.

“Yes, but right now I think he might only be meeting somebody. All I want to do is find out who. He knows my face. Same goes for my partner, so we can’t let him see us.”

Fifteen minutes later they found themselves in the heart of downtown Vancouver, with Laura still stuck in traffic and trailing two blocks behind. Steven’s ability to quickly grasp surveillance was surprisingly good. Soon he made a habit of always allowing one or two cars between them for cover, but weighed it with the option of when to speed up to make the same traffic light as Goldie when needed.

“Your dad would be proud,” said Jack, hunched low in the back while peering out between the two front seats.

“Thanks. Is it okay if I tell him?”

“Yeah —”

“He’s stopping!” said Kelly. “There, right in the entrance to that alley!”

Jack peered out the window as they drove past the alley and saw Goldie getting out of the car.

“You going to follow him on foot?” asked Steven.

“Can’t risk him seeing me,” replied Jack. “But this was a great help. He’s bound to be meeting someone in a building close by. This helps us narrow it down.”

“Yeah, to what? About ten thousand people,” said Steven, looking up at the skyscrapers around them.

Jack peeked out the rear window and saw a familiar glimpse of Goldie’s moss-green windbreaker in the crowd as he came their way.

“He doesn’t know me,” said Kelly, opening the door and leaping out.

“Wait, I don’t —” Jack knew Goldie would be coming past them within seconds. “Okay, but public places only. Under no circumstances go anywhere unless there are lots of people.”

She flashed a pretty smile back at Jack and said, “I’ll be careful. This is so cool,” she added, closing the door.

“What do you want me to do?” asked Steven.

“Keep circling the block. Does Kelly have a cellphone?”

“Yes, we both do.”

Goldie walked briskly down the sidewalk toward them as Steven sat parked in traffic. Jack saw Kelly appear to be intently examining the front display window of a jewellery store as Goldie walked past her in a throng of people. Jack laid down on the back seat out of sight.

“Dangerous sign,” said Jack, watching Steven’s nervous face as he stared straight ahead, afraid to be seen by Goldie in case he’d be caught looking at him.

“Dangerous sign?” repeated Steven, nervously, risking a glance at the back of Goldie’s head as he passed by on the sidewalk.

“Yeah, I think Kelly is looking at wedding rings.”

Steven’s smile matched Jack’s.

Minutes later, Goldie disappeared around the next corner with Kelly following discreetly.

“We’re stuck,” said Steven in frustration, gesturing at the traffic. “Maybe I should phone her?”

“Hang tough,” replied Jack. “I know it’s not easy, but the sound of a cellphone could attract attention and get her noticed. She already has a disadvantage in that category.”

“How’s that?”

“She’s too damned cute. Guys will remember her. What’s her ethnic background?”

“Irish.”

Jack chuckled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Inside joke. Basically this bad guy won’t like the Irish when I’m done with him.”

Steven had only managed to make one circuit around the block when they saw Kelly standing near where she had been let out.

“The tallest building around the corner,” she said breathlessly. “He went to the forty-seventh floor. It is the very top. He told the receptionist that his name was Mister Golden … or something like that. He said he had an appointment with Mister Lee. That name I’m certain of.”

“You went with him in the elevator,” said Jack, frowning.

“There were lots of people. There are different elevators for the first thirty floors. Although it was just him and me when we got to the top. I had to get out with him, there was no place left.”

“Did he look at you a little strangely when he realized you didn’t belong there?” asked Jack.

“The name of the company behind the reception desk is Intrinsic Global Investments. While he was waiting to see Mister Lee, I asked the receptionist if they had any secretarial positions open. She said they didn’t. I don’t think he paid much attention to me. Then I left.”

Jack grinned. “If either of you decide to become police officers, I’ll be your reference.”

“Law enforcement was one of two occupations my dad said he never wanted me to go into,” said Steven.

“You never told me that,” said Kelly. “What was the other?”

“To become a defence lawyer,” said Jack and Steven in unison. Both men chuckled.

“Do you want to know what Mister Lee looks like?” asked Kelly.

“You saw him?”

“He came out as the elevator door was closing. He’s easy to identify. Asian, mid fifties, probably. He was wearing a navy blue suit, red tie, has a bald head, and a diamond stud in his left earlobe.”

“Excellent,” smiled Jack.

“Oh, yeah, and he is really short and small. If it wasn’t for how he was dressed and his bald head, you would think he was just a kid.”

Steven and Kelly both saw the startled reaction on Jack’s face. He immediately used his cellphone to speak to Laura.

“Just found a match for the footprint in the park,” he said quietly.

23

On Wednesday afternoon, Jack and Laura met with Rose to update her on the investigation.

“I’m certain it’s the man they call The Enabler,” said Jack. “His name is Kang Lee. He is originally from Seoul, South Korea, and is currently in Canada under a work permit as the president of a financial consulting company called Intrinsic Global Investments. He rents a two-bedroom penthouse overlooking English Bay in the west end and drives a new Mercedes-Benz SL500 leased to the company.”

“Must be doing extremely well as a financial consultant,” said Rose. “I knew I entered the wrong profession.”

“CC confirmed that a picture of his shoe print matches exactly the size of the print they found at the murder scene,” said Laura.

“What did you do? Mug him and steal his shoe?”

Laura smiled and said, “There are several levels of underground parking in his office tower. The bottom two levels are public parking, but the other levels are reserved spaces for different companies in the building. We went there this morning before Lee arrived. His spot, closest to the elevators, is reserved in his name.”

“And?”

“And I smeared a film of dirty engine oil beside where he parks,” said Jack. “He stepped in it as soon as he got out of his car.”

“After that we placed a ruler beside his print and took a picture,” said Laura.

“Too bad he didn’t fall on his ass,” said Rose. “How about Drug Section? Are they on board with us?”

“Drug Section is using what we gave them to prepare a wiretap application on Goldie. They hope to have it before a judge next week. In the meantime, they’re going to start doing surveillance on him. Strictly periodic. They don’t want to risk burning anything at this stage.”

“And Integrated Proceeds of Crime?” asked Rose.

“I-POC came on board yesterday to follow the money trail. At the moment, they have only done a cursory examination. As they said, for them to track everyone that Lee’s company is connected with will be a nightmare. They obtained last month’s phone tolls and said there were thousands of calls worldwide.”

“And that doesn’t include Internet,” added Laura.

“What reputation does the company have?” asked Rose.

“So far, they look legitimate,” said Laura. “I-POC has made some discreet inquiries. The company has invested wisely into a lot of reputable companies, often at the opportune time. They have made a lot of shareholders wealthy.”

“Are poppies listed as one of their commodities they promote for investment?” asked Rose facetiously.

“Nothing that obvious, I’m afraid,” replied Jack, “but I am sure we’ll find out they are tied in with shipping, air, train, and who knows what else. It is still too soon to tell. It will take months, or more likely years, for I-POC to get a basic knowledge of who’s who and who’s connected to whom.”

“Perfect company to launder money and have the connections to ship anything they want worldwide,” said Laura.

“If Lee is the president of a company like Intrinsic Global,” said Rose, “then who is his boss? The one he calls The Shaman? Logic would dictate that it would have to be someone who is either a silent partner, or —”

“Or, as big as Intrinsic Global is,” said Jack, “it’s only the tip of the iceberg. Perhaps one company of many controlled by The Shaman.”

“Jesus,” muttered Rose, as she realized the potential scope of the empire.

“Scary to think about,” said Laura.

“So buying a ton of heroin from these guys is definitely a possibility,” said Rose.

“I figured it would be once Goldie started telling me that they controlled the Asian market,” said Jack. “I thought I better sound big if I was to get an introduction up the ladder. Guess it wasn’t big enough.”

“What you said is too big already,” replied Rose. “There’s no way the Force could even come up with a flash roll that big, or if they could, they would never risk losing it. How the hell will you work your way around that without proving you have the cash?”

“I’m going to demand that I see a lot of their operation before spending. Starting from the ground up and taking it as far as I can.”

“Sort of like checking out a company before buying into it,” said Laura.

“Doesn’t sound like they’ll ever let you see the corporate boardroom, though,” said Rose.

“Not yet,” replied Jack, “but once we get the ball rolling, and with what we already know about Lee and his company, maybe we’ll figure it out without personal introductions.”

“But so far, all this is simply speculation,” said Rose. “From what you say, everything we know about Intrinsic Global is legitimate. You’re basing all this on one meeting between Lee and Goldie.”

“And the size of Lee’s feet,” said Laura.

“Goldie loves his car almost as much as he loves himself,” said Jack. “It doesn’t make sense that he would borrow a car, which incidentally belongs to his bartender, to go and meet someone like Lee. It was planned. They wanted to know what my response would be to joining the company. Goldie was being a good little messenger boy by running back and telling him my answer.”

“Okay,” said Rose, “let’s say you’re right. I know your instincts for what you do are finely tuned. But it begs the question, if you are right, then what was someone of Lee’s stature doing in a park at night with Goldie and some other guy while one of them is taking potshots at a homeless person?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jack. “Goldie is being promoted to the Enabler position. Maybe they were impressing upon him that they aren’t afraid to murder someone.”

“The ‘you better stay in line or look what will happen’ approach?” said Rose.

“Something like that. Goldie told me they are going to make him take a polygraph as part of his promotion. These guys are professional.”

“And what if they decide to put you on the polygraph?” asked Rose. “Think you can lie your way out of that? You may be top-notch at lying to criminals, but it’s a different story once you are tied to a bullshit detector with a professional interrogator scrutinizing your every verbal and physical response. Responses you can’t control. Forget trying to drug yourself or doing self-hypnosis. These guys know their stuff.”

“I know,” replied Jack. “When Goldie told me that was what they were going to do to him, my insides cringed thinking about it. The thing is, Goldie has been protected in his heroin importation by these people for years. It is only with him about to learn who is really in charge that he is facing this test. With all the resources we have going for us, I would hope we can discover who The Shaman is long before they decide to slap me on the machine.”

“So you and Laura will continue to play things along as you have and see what happens?”

“Exactly. Once we get a wire on Goldie, things may open up a little more. Maybe catch him talking to Lee.”

“You might get lucky with a wire but I would be surprised. I think catching Lee will be a huge problem,” said Rose. “Your boss, for all intents and purposes, will be Goldie. They’re not going to let you climb the corporate ladder any farther than you already have.”

“Then we have to get rid of Goldie,” said Jack. “Convince the company to have me replace him.”

“How? If you arrest him on a drug beef, then you’re burned and I bet that Lee, as paranoid as this organization is, will drop him like a hot potato. With the millions that are involved, there is no way that Goldie is going to roll on anyone for the sake of spending a few months in jail.”

“I know,” replied Jack.

“And if you try and charge him with murder … well, you heard what will happen because you took the garbage bag, let alone trying to convince anyone of a motive. Even at best, he only drove the victim there after telling his guys it was a prank.”

“Goldie is the one who had him kidnapped,” said Jack, tersely. “He is as much to blame as whoever pulled the trigger. And as far as it being a prank goes, that’s a crock!”

“Of course it’s a crock, but you and I have been around the block a few times. Defence don’t usually pick jurors they think are worldly. A lot of judges are also pretty naive.”

“So he walks away from a murder rap because I stole a goddamned garbage bag!” said Jack, bitterly.

“That’s justice,” said Rose.

“Is it?” asked Jack.

Rose gave a weak smile and shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah, I don’t think that is justice, either,” said Jack.

Laura reflected upon Jack’s comment. “That” is justice? Oh, man, he’s got something else in mind …

She was right.

24

Later that evening, Jack and Laura returned the wave from Purvis, who was standing behind the bar as they took a seat in a booth. A new waitress served them, and a few minutes later, Goldie joined their table.

“We’ve only dropped in to ask you something,” said Jack.

“Tomorrow is your real birthday,” said Laura. “How would you like to come out with us on our boat, the Blue Gator, and have dinner while the crew tours us around Vancouver Harbour?”

“That would be absolutely fab!” replied Goldie.

“Perhaps come over to our apartment for a drink first,” said Jack, “then you could follow us to the marina.”

“Bring a date, if you like,” said Laura.

“This is really something. I’m absolutely thrilled,” Goldie said, beaming with delight. “I’ll bring Candy. She was at my party last Saturday. Perhaps you met her?”

“I did,” replied Laura. “Very pretty girl.”

“One rule I must insist upon,” said Jack. “No drugs onboard the Blue Gator. We travel into the U.S. too often to risk some customs dog finding a trace of anything and having my boat seized. Understood?”

Goldie smiled and replied, “I don’t do drugs, anyway.”

“Neither do we,” said Jack.

“Good,” replied Goldie. “Leave that stuff for the suckers. I prefer friends who are a little more cerebral.”

“You might want to mention that to Candy,” said Jack.

Goldie chortled and said, “I don’t use her for her brains or friendship. But don’t worry; I’ll make sure she behaves.”

“One other thing,” said Jack. “My crew, Paul and Katie … they’re Irish and I don’t want you to jump to any conclusions. No business talk in front of them. They think I’m totally legit.”

“Understood,” replied Goldie.

As Jack and Laura were walking away from Goldie Locks, Jack looked at Laura and said, “So far so good. It’s supposed to rain all week, so Goldie should be dressed for it. Tomorrow we can tell the narcs to drop their surveillance. He’ll be with us. Also, we’d better do a little window dressing in the apartment. Make it look like we do live there. Same for Paul and Katie’s boat. Put up a couple of pictures of us together.”

“Why the apartment? I thought you were going to do it on the boat?”

“Gives me two chances. I’m not all that good with a needle and thread.”

“Me, either.”

“But you will be better at distracting Goldie in case I take too long.”

“His new girlfriend may not take kindly to me flirting with him.”

“I doubt that how she feels would be a consideration to Goldie.”

“If your plan works, he’ll never have anything to consider again,” said Laura, quietly.

“Fly with the crows, expect to get shot.”

Laura’s sigh was audible.

“You think this is wrong?” asked Jack.

“No, but it isn’t right, either.”

“Envision yourself with a garbage bag over your head, running through the woods and being shot. Picture Goldie with his diamond-studded tooth, laughing and —”

“I know, I know. Don’t remind me.”

“Maybe his lucky rabbit’s foot will save him.”

“This isn’t anything to laugh about,” said Laura, frowning. “This will be his last birthday and we’re acting like we’re his best friends. Instead, we’re assassins. Don’t you feel dirty inside?”

“No, I don’t,” said Jack, firmly. “If you feel that way, then take another look at the photos from the park. It isn’t anything to laugh about, either.”

They walked a little farther and Laura said, “Sorry, I’m okay with it. Just had to talk it out.”

Jack nodded. “Good. We’re partners. We should talk things out. Are you really okay with it?”

“Yes.”

“Great.” They walked on and Jack added, “Wish I could see the look on his face when he sees what we gave him as a surprise birthday present.”

Oh, man …

On Thursday evening, Goldie and Candy arrived on schedule. “Welcome!” said Jack, inviting them inside the penthouse.

“And your birthday kiss as promised,” said Laura, kissing Goldie on his cheek while giving him a quick hug.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Goldie’s face. Is that all I get? A quick peck on the cheek? He glanced at Jack and pretended to smile. Just as well, Jack is bound to have a jackknife lying around somewhere …

“Come on in, make yourselves at home,” said Jack. “I’ll take your jackets and toss them on the bed. Laura, how about showing them around and I’ll be back to see what everyone likes to drink. Then in an hour, we can head down to the marina.”

Later, after a tour of the apartment, Goldie leaned back on the sofa, with one arm draped over Candy, and the other holding his wineglass as he used it to gesture around the room. “How did you ever find this place? A penthouse backing on to Stanley Park. Two bedrooms, a view of the city. All I can say is, wow!”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” replied Jack. “It used to be rented by a couple of Russians who I am told ran into some business difficulties. The timing happened to be right for Laura and me to move in. Actually, I think the Blue Gator is much nicer, but I find this quieter.”

“Your own home is lovely, too,” said Laura. “Right on the water. I think it — Jack! Watch it!”

“Shit,” muttered Jack, looking down at the red wine he had slopped on himself. “Excuse me, I better change.”

Some time later, Jack returned with a fresh shirt on. Laura saw him make eye contact with her as he casually made a fist and scratched his chin with his thumb. Mission accomplished.

The rest of the evening continued to go as planned. Once they arrived at the marina, Jack quickly introduced Candy and Goldie to his crew. While Paul and Katie took charge of slowly navigating the waters of Vancouver Harbour, Jack and Laura entertained their guests with glasses of Sauvignon Blanc and a beautiful view of the city lights reflecting off the water. Later, the four of them enjoyed a dinner that Jack prepared, consisting of Caesar salad, Dungeness crab, garlic toast, and plenty more Sauvignon Blanc.

After dinner, Goldie and Candy snuggled together on a sofa, where Candy started kissing Goldie on his neck.

“A toast,” said Jack, raising his glass. “Here’s to women’s kisses, and to whiskey, amber clear. Not as sweet as a woman’s kiss, but a damn sight more sincere!”

Goldie looked at Candy and laughed. “Aptly put, Jack. Aptly put!” He stood and grabbed a bottle of wine and said, “Mind if I go up top and offer a drink to your crew?”

Jack shook his head and whispered, “I wouldn’t. I told you they are strictly legit, but Paul has got a fearsome reputation. Kind of guy who would start a fight in an empty house.”

“Oh, I see,” replied Goldie, giving a nervous glance up toward the helm before sitting back down.

Jack hid his smile. Paul had a great sense of humour and was one of the nicest, gentlest people he knew. Too nice a person to be putting up with the likes of Goldie.

The rest of their time together was spent in idle gossip, with much oohing and aahing over the night lights of the city reflecting off the water. Goldie was not shy about drinking, but several hours later, as the Blue Gator approached her berth in the marina, he did order a limousine to take him and Candy home.

As Jack helped first Candy, and then Goldie on with their jackets; he knew he would also have to help Goldie get off the boat without falling in.

“Jack, my Irish rogue,” slurred Goldie, reaching for his wineglass one last time. “I think you and me are going to conquer the fuckin’ world. You and me, buddy. You and me.”

“One last toast,” smiled Jack, reaching for his wine glass. “Some Guinness was spilled on the barroom floor, when the pub was shut for the night. When out of his hole crept a wee brown mouse, that stood in the pale moonlight. He lapped up the frothy foam from the floor, then back on his haunches he sat. And all night long, you could hear the mouse roar, ‘Bring on the goddamn cat!’”

Goldie tossed his drink back and laughed. If he hadn’t had so much to drink, he might have wondered why Jack and Laura’s faces momentarily turned to stone as they watched him.

As Jack and Laura stood on the back of the boat, watching Goldie and Candy make their way down the wharf, Jack said, “And there staggers the wee brown mouse. Tomorrow we hunt rat.”

“You think Rose will figure out what we were really doing tonight?” asked Laura. “Especially after tomorrow?”

“She might.”

“What do you think she’ll do?”

Jack shrugged and said, “I guess it depends upon whether she believes in justice.”

Laura returned Goldie’s wave goodbye, as did Jack.

“He certainly enjoyed himself tonight,” noted Laura.

“His next party will be his farewell party.”

“Yeah,” replied Laura. “Either his or yours.”

25

Natasha awoke half an hour before her alarm radio went off, and saw Jack’s head on the pillow next to hers, staring at her intently.

“You’re awake early,” she murmured. “I didn’t even hear you come in last night.”

“Was around two,” Jack replied. “Laura and I were entertaining a bad guy.”

“I see … so if I’m a bad girl, will you entertain me?” asked Natasha mischievously, before kissing Jack first on his chest and then on his mouth.

“Maybe,” said Jack, when she finished. “What type of entertainment do you prefer? Were you thinking PG or —”

“Forget that! How about triple X?”

Jack grinned and said, “I don’t know if I want the mother of my future children talking like that … although I have to admit, I am curious. Exactly what is triple X? Is it anything like a triple fudge sundae?”

Natasha put one finger on her chin as if in serious thought and replied, “I suppose it could involve a triple sundae. Might make a mess out of the sheets, though.”

“How about a little religious entertainment?”

“Religious?”

“You know, where we each make the other say ‘Oh, God!’”

Natasha’s grin faded quickly when she felt the fingers on Jack’s hand slowly caress up the inside of her thigh, cross her pubic mound, and glide up the side of her ribcage toward her breasts. She closed her eyes as his hand softly trailed back down her body, repeating the process, only now she felt his kisses trailing behind his hand. She tilted her head back as her lips parted in anticipation. Her body pushed upward wherever he kissed, urging him on.

His entry felt agonizingly slow and she relished the feeling, but soon found herself breathing heavily as her hips began to match the rhythmic beat of his and their tempo increased. Their lovemaking soon became a frenzy of soft cries of orgasmic delight as their bodies rolled on the bed, convulsing together as their hands sought each other’s backs and buttocks, pulling each other tighter as they felt the climax of their lovemaking reach its pinnacle.

After, Natasha lay with her head on Jack’s chest. She felt his fingers brush the hair from her eyes and his lips place a gentle kiss upon her forehead. She moaned when her radio turned on automatically, and, with great reluctance, left for the ensuite to ready herself for the day.

Later, upon re-entering the bedroom, she saw Jack sitting on the edge of the bed, slowly twirling Melvin’s plastic rose in his hand. He looked worried.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly.

It was obvious his mind had been elsewhere and she had startled him. She watched as he put the rose back on the dresser and asked, “What were you thinking about?”

Jack gave a sheepish grin and said, “I was wondering when you would get pregnant. How long it would take now that you’re not —”

“Probably at least another month or two,” replied Natasha. She smiled and said, “You looked so serious, I was afraid something was wrong?”

“Everything is okay.”

“Something happening at work today?” she prodded.

Jack nodded. “Taking care of business,” he added.

Natasha knew that meant that whatever Jack was doing, it was dangerous. At one time he would never tell her when he was doing something dangerous, but then she found herself worrying all the time, often needlessly. They talked about it and he agreed he would be truthful about when she should worry and when she shouldn’t. It actually worked better. Sort of.

“Will you be late tonight?”

“I don’t know.”

“Call me when it’s over.”

“I will. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

It was not until Natasha was driving to work that she connected the dots. Why Jack was wondering when … or if she could be pregnant … and him doing something dangerous today. He is worrying about leaving a widow behind. Worrying I could be pregnant at the same time …

She stopped at a traffic light and a feeling of panic overtook her. The rose … it has to be about Melvin … and I pushed him into becoming involved. If he dies … She felt the tears well up in her eyes.

Her cellphone rang and in her frustration she dumped the entire contents of her purse on the seat beside her to find it.

“I know you’re worrying,” Jack said as soon as she answered. “Wanted to remind you that I am very good at what I do.”

“I know that,” she replied, trying not to cry.

“Good. You should also know that since meeting you, my risk scale has dropped considerably. I have too much to live for. Once we have a family, it will be even more so. Just thought I should tell you.”

Natasha swallowed as she fought to keep her emotions under control before saying, “But whatever you’re doing, I know it involves Melvin and you’re doing it because of me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Melvin.” Jack paused and said, “Okay, maybe for Winston, too.”

Natasha was oblivious to the driver behind her who tapped the horn. She sighed. This is the guy I married. Would I really want him to be any other way?

“You still there?” he asked.

“I’m still here,” she replied. “I’ll always be here for you. Make sure you do the same for me.”

It was one-thirty in the afternoon when Laura dropped Jack off in front of the office tower housing Intrinsic Global Investments.

“Perfect weather,” said Jack. “Windy, rainy —”

“You sure you want to do this?” Laura asked nervously.

“I think it will work,” replied Jack, taking off his windbreaker and tossing it back in the car. “I don’t see any other way to get to him. I’ll call you in an hour. If I don’t, then call me.”

“And if things go sideways?”

“Worried about handling Lee?” asked Jack.

“I can handle that little squirt.”

“I know you can, but remember, we’re supposed to be bad guys. This will work, trust me. Use the ski mask if you have to. It’s in the trunk.”

“But if it doesn’t work? What then? What do you want me to do?”

“Tell Natasha that I’m sorry and that I really loved her.”

“No, about me. What should I do if they kill you?”

“Obey your conscience. I know you’ll do what’s right.”

“Okay, if something happens to you, Lee is dead,” replied Laura solemnly. “You have my word on that.”

“No! That is not what I am telling you to do. You have a life to live. Don’t blow it by doing something stupid.”

“You mean, like you?”

“What I am about to do will work. It’s a calculated risk. Now, promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“Promise me you won’t get killed,” replied Laura, stubbornly.

26

Kang Lee answered the telephone on his desk. It was the receptionist who worked at the main entrance to Intrinsic Global Investments. Her voice sounded curious in a whimsical sort of way.

“Mister Lee, there is a gentleman here who wishes to see you. He says he has never met you and doesn’t have an appointment, but —”

“I’m busy. Book him an appointment in about two weeks or call someone else.”

“He, uh, insisted that you would want to see him. He said The Shaman would be very upset if you didn’t see him immediately.” She caught the gasp on the other end of the phone and added, “Do you wish me to call extension 666 to, uh, assist?”

“No!” replied Lee quickly. Who would dare say ‘The Shaman’ to anyone outside the circle? It has to be Goldie or Wang … whichever one will pay dearly.

“Mister Lee?”

“Security is not necessary,” he replied. “A practical joke involving an old friend. I’ll be right out.”

The startled look on Lee’s face was obvious when he stepped into the reception area and saw a stranger.

Jack held his hand out and said, “Hello, Kang. My name is Jack O’Donnell.”

Lee’s eyes darted nervously around the room as he shook hands.

“Is there a place where we can talk in private?” asked Jack.

“Certainly. Follow me, if you would,” replied Lee.

Moments later, Jack found himself in a large, glassed-in corner office that afforded a view overlooking much of downtown Vancouver, including Burrard Inlet. The office included a wet bar and seating area, but Lee sought refuge behind a mammoth black wooden desk with intricately carved legs and panels.

“Beautiful desk,” commented Jack.

“I discovered it in Bali,” said Lee. “What is it you wish to speak to me about? You mentioned some odd name … Mister Salmon or something?”

Jack smiled and said, “Oh, get off it, Kang. You know who I am and you certainly know who The Shaman is.”

“Perhaps I … have heard of you,” replied Lee coldly. “A mutual friend may have mentioned you.”

“If you’re talking about Arthur Goldie, he is no longer a friend of mine,” replied Jack.

“It was Mister Goldie who had spoken to me about you,” admitted Lee.

“In great depth, that I am certain,” said Jack, smiling.

“To some extent, yes. I understood that you were his friend?”

“That was before this morning, when a little birdie told me he was working for the police.”

“What? Impossible!” said Lee, partially rising from his chair, before regaining his composure and sitting back down. “I mean, what on earth for? What could that possibly have to do with me?” Before Jack could reply, Lee added, “I don’t believe it,” and folded his arms across his chest.

“Maybe you’re right,” said Jack. “I only came as a courtesy to warn you. From what Goldie told me, your … business is not unlike my own. Some day, perhaps, our paths will cross and you might be in a position to do me a favour. After all, you are The Enabler.”

A twitch of Lee’s eyelid expressed his distaste at Jack calling him that. “I still do not believe that Mister Goldie is the sort of person to, how should I put it, run to the police over some trivial matter.”

“From what I heard, it isn’t trivial. At least the Yanks don’t think so.”

“The Americans?” asked Lee. “What do they have to do with this? I’m not even sure Mister Goldie knows any.”

“He might not, but a man who works for him by the name of Purvis is well acquainted with an American living in Seattle. Arrests have not been made yet, but the DEA has applied to have Goldie extradited to the U.S. for conspiracy to traffic in heroin. American courts don’t like drug traffickers as much as judges in B.C. do. I am told he is looking at a minimum of twenty-five years … unless he co-operates with authorities. Which, I am told, is the path he has chosen.”

“And somehow you think it concerns me?”

“Perhaps the police are correct in their suspicions that Goldie is a liar,” said Jack. “In which case, I should not talk to you any further about what I heard. I am sorry if I wasted your time,” he added, getting up to leave.

“No! Please … wait. I do know Mister Goldie and naturally I am a little curious. I am also a cautious man.” Lee stared at Jack for a response that he understood.

“I see,” said Jack, sitting back down. “Then you would like me to tell you what I have heard?”

Lee nodded silently.

“Two days ago, Goldie was approached by someone from the RCMP Drug Section. Given the circumstances of his connection to a conspiracy charge in the U.S., he said he would inform on those people who were above him.”

“And you say that I am one of those people?”

“Yes.” Jack then went on to describe to Lee everything Goldie had told him when they had met at the Regal Beagle earlier in the week concerning commissions, enablers, and The Shaman.

“And your ‘birdie’ told you this is what he told the police?”

“Yes.”

“Why should I believe you? I do not think Mister Goldie would go to the police because the whole story is bogus. He told me he had spoken with you last Monday and told me about the ridiculous story he had told you. Apparently he believes you to be … well, shall we say, connected to some illegal activities. A belief he obtained from what some RCMP Intelligence officer told him. He was hoping to impress you with these lies. For whatever reason, it appears that you are now trying to ruin my friendship with Mister Goldie with this preposterous allegation that he went to the police.”

“I see,” replied Jack. “Maybe it would help if I told you some things that he didn’t tell me or likely include in his conversation with you.”

“Such as?”

Jack watched Lee carefully and said, “Such as him telling the police that you ordered him to take a homeless person to a park to be executed. He said there were three of you.”

Lee’s eyes widened and he put his hands on his lap as if he were about to be castrated.

The response was what Jack had hoped. The bastard either did it, or was there. But why? He faked a yawn and looked at Lee and said, “If all this is some bullshit story that Goldie made up to impress me, then you should be aware that he is telling the same story, with a little extra, to try and convince the police not to send him to prison.”

“I see,” uttered Lee.

“Either way, I would be damned careful if I were you that the next time you see him he isn’t trying to put words in your mouth.” Jack stood up and said, “Have a nice day,” before walking toward the door.

“Please, no, wait,” pleaded Lee. “What else did your friend tell you?”

Jack shrugged and said, “That was about it. I’ll be talking with my friend later.”

“Would you let me buy you a coffee or perhaps a drink? Go some place where we can talk, other than in my office? I think it would help for us to get to know each other better.”

Jack glanced at his watch and replied, “I told my girlfriend I was going to meet her but … what the hell. I’ll call her and tell her to go shopping instead.”

“Good. Please wait for me in the reception area. I need to cancel an appointment then I’ll be right with you.”

Jack called Laura from the reception area and said, “Lee is taking me for a drink. Don’t know where, but better cover the exit. If we come out together, then hang tough and wait for us to return. If you don’t hear from me by three-thirty, I’m in trouble.”

Yes, or dead. “How’s it going?” asked Laura, deciding it was no use to state the obvious as she checked her watch. It was two-fifteen.

“Exactly as expected,” replied Jack.

“Sure you don’t want me to follow?”

“No, you’d need sunblock. Also can’t risk them grabbing you. You’re all I’ve got.”

It took several minutes after Jack hung up for Lee to appear, but when he did, he smiled at Jack and patted him on the back and said, “Come on, we’ll take my car.”

A smile and personal touch for reassurance … okay, asshole, what are you up to? Jack smiled back and followed Lee into the elevator.

From a partially concealed spot, Laura was able to see Lee and Jack leave. Her fingers nervously beat the bottom of the steering wheel as if it were a bongo drum, but she remained where she was. Waiting and wondering was often the hardest part of the job.

Lee drove Jack to a wireless Internet cafe about fifteen minutes away and brought a laptop computer inside with him. Once they were seated, Lee asked, “You said something about the police having suspicions that Arthur is a liar. Can you expand upon that?”

“The police usually offer people the opportunity to inform, in the hope of catching a bigger criminal. Apparently it wouldn’t be the first time the police have caught someone who turns out to be the top person — who then fabricates a story to try and make someone else seem like the boss. My source says the police have already made discreet inquiries about you and are dubious that you are involved in anything illegal.”

“So they don’t really suspect me?” asked Lee, his face brightening for the first time since meeting Jack.

“They suspect that Goldie may have laundered some drug money through your company, likely without your knowledge. They think that is how he met you and is taking advantage of an international financial corporation to throw the police off the trail. The police know it would take years to prove, by which time it would be too late or impossible to charge Goldie if it was then discovered that he was lying.”

“Which, of course, he is,” said Lee, smugly.

Jack smiled and said, “Given the circumstances and the fact that you do not know me, I would also respond in the same manner that you now are.”

Lee looked indignant and said, “I’m telling you —”

Jack put up his hand indicating for him to stop and said, “I could care less if it is true or not. Goldie also talked to the police about me. He told them I am interested in purchasing a ton of heroin as an initial investment. The police … small-minded as they are,” he muttered, “think that quantity is too large to be believable. As a result, they think Goldie is lying about me and that he came up with my name only as a result of some RCMP Intelligence officer having made inquiries about me a few weeks back.”

“I heard about that,” said Lee.

Jack chuckled and said, “I bet you did.”

“And the story about a homeless person being murdered in a park? What of that? Do the police think it is something Goldie may have picked up on the news?”

“No, Goldie would be smart enough not to make such a blunder. It would be too easy for the police to know certain details that had not been released to the media.”

“So the police know that Goldie is telling the truth about that?”

“That he may have been there, sure. It is also a reason why they think he is lying about you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do the police. It doesn’t make sense why anyone in your position would be involved in such a ridiculous situation. They think it involved Goldie and his bartender, Purvis.”

“His bartender? Why?”

“They speculate that Purvis made a heroin transaction with someone in an alley, perhaps behind Goldie Locks, and then realized that the homeless person saw them. They think it more likely that Purvis took the witness somewhere else to be killed so as not to bring any heat down on the club. Goldie may have gone with him.”

“I see,” said Lee. “Then I am sure that is what did happen. It certainly did not involve me. As you say, it would be ridiculous.”

Jack smiled knowingly, openly betraying his belief that Lee was lying.

“Excuse me a moment,” said Lee, while flipping open his laptop. “Your unscheduled meeting interrupted some important business. I have to take care of some loose ends.”

It was three-thirty when Laura answered her cellular. Nothing like waiting until the last minute …

“Hi, honey,” said Jack. “I’ll be a little late tonight. I’ll call you in an hour.”

A couple of minutes later, Laura saw Lee and Jack return to the underground parkade.

Laura breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back in the seat and waited. Her relief lasted until four-thirty before she held her cellphone in her hand. Come on, Jack, call! Five minutes later she dialed Jack’s cellular. There was no answer.

She redialed. Damn it, Jack! Pick up!

Laura had no idea that Jack had left the parkade an hour earlier. He was driven out in the back of a cargo van, naked, and with a gun stuck in his ear.

27

Once they arrived back in the underground parkade and stepped out of the car, Lee raised his voice to speak to him over the top of the car and abruptly said, “Well, it was certainly interesting meeting you, Mister O’Donnell. Hope you have a pleasant day.”

Jack knew he was in trouble and caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see four Asian hoodlums, two of whom were pointing pistols at him. The closest one held his index finger up to his lips, telling Jack not to say anything.

A cargo van immediately appeared as one of the men placed a band of duct tape across Jack’s mouth before securing his wrists behind his back with a plastic zip-tie. He caught a glimpse of Lee casually walking toward the elevator being held open for him by a fifth Chinese man. Seconds later, Jack was hustled into the back of the cargo van and made to sit on the floor.

The van radio was blasting out music that echoed inside the confines of the van, making any conversation difficult, but none of his captors spoke, regardless. Another band of duct tape was placed over Jack’s eyes before he was pushed onto his back.

He felt the muzzle of a pistol on his temple, while someone undid his belt and someone else pulled off his shoes. Seconds later, his pants were tugged off. He felt a thin cold flat piece of steel on his stomach and knew it was a knife. Is that it? Is my life over? Are they going to gut me right here? Someone yanked on the front of his golf shirt and he soon realized it was being cut off. His captors were not taking any chances by undoing his wrists. He was rolled onto his side and his underwear was pulled partially down and then back up.

He heard the rustling sound of a garbage bag as all his property, with the exception of his underwear and socks, were crammed inside. The sound of the garbage bag moved to the van door, which opened and closed quickly. Tires of another vehicle squealed slightly and Jack knew his clothes had been taken away. The radio in the van was turned off and he was driven out of the parkade. He was still blindfolded and tied up, but now someone was straddling his ribcage with the muzzle of a pistol inserted in his ear.

The van drove for an hour before Jack heard the difference in the sound of the tires when it left the highway and followed a road with an obviously slower speed limit. That, too, changed when he heard the sound of gravel beneath the tires.

Laura drove into the parkade. Many parking spots were opening up as most of the companies in the office tower ended their day between four and five o’clock. She parked in a spot close to Lee’s car and sat and waited. If he came out with someone other than Jack, she would follow him. If he comes out alone … Her eyes caught the reflection of her trunk in the rear-view mirror. “Oh, man,” she said aloud, before getting out and going to the trunk and getting a ski mask and shoving it inside her purse.

When she got back inside the car, she continued to dial Jack’s number every ten minutes, but there was no answer. By five-thirty, the only car besides hers on the reserved level belonged to Lee, and she knew her position stood out. What few cars did pass through were the occasional shoppers who had been parked in the public parking lot deeper within the complex.

Laura took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and started her engine. Seconds later, she was parked right beside Lee’s Mercedes-Benz.

It was six o’clock and suppertime, but being a farmer did not mean punching a time clock. George Appleton stooped to pick up a staple that had worked its way loose from the barbed-wire fence and fallen in the grass. It was a common problem and he routinely walked alongside his fenceline to ensure he found the staples before one of his Holsteins swallowed it with a mouthful of alfalfa and got it caught in its throat. He was about to hammer the staple back in when the sound of a gunshot came from a wooded area near an entrance lane to one of his fields.

Seconds later, a cargo van emerged from the woods and raced past his field on the gravel road. He was too far away to see the licence plate or clearly see the faces of the two men in the front of the van, but their straight black hair caused him to think they were Asian.

He swore under his breath as he ran toward the wooded area. It was a favourite spot for his cows to rest and he had a sickening feeling that he would find one of them shot. He arrived minutes later out of breath.

It wasn’t a cow he found shot lying in the dirt. It was a man. A man who was naked, except for his underwear and socks. His hands were bound behind his back with a plastic zip-tie and duct tape covered his eyes and mouth. A bullet hole through his temple oozed blood. Death had been instantaneous.

It was six-thirty when Lee stepped off the elevator and into the parkade. He smiled politely at the pretty woman in front of him and was about to hold the elevator door open for her. Something about her looked familiar. Yes! The lady who beat the mugger. Jack’s lady — His thoughts were interrupted by the sheer terror of seeing her point a 9 mm pistol directly at his face.

“Do not speak,” she commanded. “Walk in front of me and go to the passenger side of my car and lean on it,” she added, gesturing toward her car with a quick jerk of the barrel.

“I beg you to listen,” said Lee. “I —”

“I said shut up!” Tears ran down Laura’s cheeks and her hand trembled. “Go over to my car … now!”

Lee wondered whether she might shoot him accidentally and hurried over to her car and placed his hands on the roof. Laura patted him down quickly before ordering him to get in the passenger side of the car and sit bent over with his head down between his legs.

“Don’t move until I tell you,” she said. “If I see you look up, I will shoot you. If you yell or even talk to me, I will shoot you.”

Lee fought the urge to vomit as Laura got into the car and started it up. He expected that she would be driving him away someplace. Instead, she drove him to the basement of the parkade and parked.

“Stay put,” she said, before getting out of the car and coming around to his side and opening the door. “Get out and get into the back seat. Hurry!”

Lee was confused, but quickly scrambled into the back seat while Laura got in the front seat, keeping her pistol trained on his face. “Okay, put this on,” she said, tossing him a ski mask.

“I don’t understand,” Lee said, bewildered.

“Put it on!”

Lee put the ski mask on as directed.

“Perfect,” said Laura. “Now I am going to call my boyfriend again. If he doesn’t answer, I’m going to shoot you. I’ll drag your body out of my car and use your blood to write rapist on the floor beside you. If the cops ever do find me, no jury in the world will convict me. Now, do you understand?”

“I … I … please listen. This is all a big mistake. I —”

“No! You listen! I’m dialing!” Laura pushed the redial and held the phone out so they both could listen.

Lee listened to the sound of each ring from the back seat. He knew his orders had been followed. Jack’s phone would not be answered. After six rings, his answering machine came on and Laura hung up.

Lee saw that Laura had quit crying. Her eyes burned pure hatred as she levelled the gun at his face. He gasped when he saw her finger squeeze down on the trigger. “I beg you! No!” he screamed. “He does not have his phone to answer! Please … you must … I —”

“I must what? Kill you?” said Laura. “It’s too late for excuses.”

“No, please. Let me call someone. It is not too late. I thought he would have called you already. It is taking longer than I thought. Please, let me use my phone and call someone.”

Laura stared back silently for a few seconds. Seconds that seemed like a lifetime to Lee. Eventually, she nodded and watched as he retrieved his cell and nervously punched in some numbers. “It is ringing,” he said, glancing at her. “I think — hello! This is — hello? Hello?”

It wasn’t only the ski mask making Lee sweat profusely. “We were disconnected,” said Lee in a panic. “The parking lot. The phone doesn’t work down here. Please, we need to drive someplace else. I beg you.”

More seconds ticked by before Laura responded, “Face down on the seat with your hands behind your head. I will give you one last chance.”

Moments later, Laura parked in the upper level and Lee tried again. Laura heard the phone ring and someone picked up and said, “Wang Hui Chinese Restaurant.”

“You better not be ordering Chinese food,” whispered Laura.

Lee shook his head and held his phone with two trembling hands and said, “My order has not arrived. The delivery person called me twenty minutes ago. It should have arrived then. This is very bad … wait.” Lee looked at Laura and held up two fingers and said, “Two minutes. He will call in two minutes.” His eyes then flickered from Laura to the gun she was holding in front of her. He leaned slightly forward, as if to say something else.

“Don’t even think about it,” said Laura, pulling back and distancing herself from his reach. “The clock starts now,” she added, glancing at her watch.

Lee turned his attention back to the phone. “Contact the delivery person again. I must speak to him within two minutes! No longer!”

One minute later, Lee’s cell rang and he stared at Laura, as if in a trance.

“Answer it,” she said. “Better hope it’s Jack and not a wrong number.”

Lee answered and said, “Put him on. Quickly!”

Laura cocked the hammer back on the pistol she was pointing at Lee’s face while carefully accepting his phone in her other hand. “Please … be careful what you say,” he cautioned. “You never know who is listening.”

Laura subconsciously held her breath and brought the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, honey,” said Jack. “Kind of a long day, eh? You okay?”

The pent-up emotion Laura felt released itself. “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said, as tears streamed down her cheeks. “You?”

“Still above ground. Feel a little chilly, but I’m okay. Someone borrowed my cell so I couldn’t call. I was worried that you might have gone skiing.”

“I … I was going to,” replied Laura, wiping her tears with her fingertips. “My friend is already dressed for it.”

“Sorry about that. Somebody will be in deep ca-ca for not letting me call. I’ve, uh, been busy. Tied up until half an hour ago. Just got back into the city. They said I’ll have my stuff back in half an hour. The heels of my shoes somehow fell off and are being repaired as we speak. You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” replied Laura, feeling more in control. “Just get here.”

“You okay to eat?”

“You’re hungry? Now? After all this?” said Laura, instantly angry.

“I spoke with Lee about twenty minutes ago. He apologized and offered to treat us to dinner. Being gracious, I accepted his offer. After all, it is just business. Nothing personal. I was supposed to call you but … these gentlemen I’m with didn’t understand the urgency. They insisted I would have to wait until I got my stuff back.”

Laura paused a moment to collect her thoughts and said, “You sure this isn’t a way to … you know, get us together?”

“I’m sure, but hang on. My favourite team is here. Mister Smith and … gee, I forget the other guy’s name. Tell Mister Lee to introduce me so I can shake his hand.”

My favourite team? Mister Smith and … Laura clued in. Smith & Wesson! She put her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and whispered to Lee, “The men with Jack have guns. He would like to be given one,” she said, handing him the phone.

Lee’s head bobbed that he understood and he spoke into the phone. “You will give him anything he asks for immediately. Anything! Consider him your boss for now.” Seconds later, Lee passed the phone back to Laura.

“Thanks, honey. I am now shaking hands with my favourite team. I would suggest that we take Mister Lee up on his offer for dinner. I need to buy a fresh shirt for the occasion as well. We should give everyone a fresh start, don’t you agree?”

After hanging up, Laura took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before looking at Lee and saying, “I want lobster. Lots of it. Scallops, too. And take off the ski mask. You look silly.”

At eight o’clock, Jack and Laura accompanied Lee to the Five Sails restaurant in the Pan Pacific Hotel. Laura ordered scallops as an appetizer and then dined on Atlantic lobster. Jack ordered roasted breast of pheasant while Lee contented himself with a meal of pan-seared Alaskan sablefish.

Neither Jack nor Laura discussed what had happened earlier in the day and tried to keep the conversation light.

As they were finishing their meal, Jack noticed that Lee’s hand still shook as he sipped on a glass of Chardonnay, “Kang, you have hardly eaten. Was the fish not to your satisfaction?”

“It was fine, thank you. I have simply lost my appetite. So much has happened so fast. My mind is still reeling.” Lee noticed Jack’s appetite appeared to be fine and asked, “Didn’t today’s events spoil your appetite?”

“I thought you were a little rude,” replied Jack.

“You describe what I did as simply rude?” asked Lee in surprise.

“Perhaps I am being needlessly finicky,” replied Jack. “I have been in your position before where such measures were taken, but you could have offered a sweatsuit. I was rather chilly.”

“Oh, honey,” said Laura. “Quit being a wimp. The two martinis you had as an appetizer surely must have warmed you by now.”

“A sweatsuit? That is your only complaint?” asked Lee. “Didn’t you find the whole ordeal stressful?”

“Business often is,” replied Jack.

“Your ability to … handle business is remarkable,” said Lee.

“You appear to have done well for yourself, also,” said Jack. “Perhaps we should see if there would be an advantage for us to go into business together?”

“Absolutely,” replied Lee. “We should talk later. Perhaps I can call you early next week.”

“That would be fine,” replied Jack. “Although, I must admit, if the long hours we put in today are normal, then I should decline such a partnership. You may have noticed that Laura gets a little upset when I do not come home on time.”

Lee smiled and said, “I have noticed that.”

“I did find today stressful,” admitted Laura. “I would suggest we not do that again.”

Lee lowered his voice and said, “Not as stressful as it was for Arthur Goldie.”

“Oh?” replied Jack. “Did he have a bad day?”

“I have heard,” said Lee, “that he had a bug infestation. One was apparently found inside the collar of his jacket.”

“I see,” said Jack. “Bet he didn’t find that funny,” he added, glancing at Laura.

“Certainly no laughing matter,” replied Laura, seriously, frowning at Jack.

Jack speared the remaining piece of pheasant with his fork, smearing it around in the creamy risotto and wild mushroom sauce before taking a mouthful. “Will Mister Goldie be quarantined?” he asked, after swallowing.

“Quarantined?” replied Lee with an evil grin. “No, I’m afraid the bug he caught was fatal. It is fortunate that I avoided any contamination. You have my gratitude.”

“Ah, I didn’t really do anything,” replied Jack. “I would have handled it myself, but I am new to Vancouver and was afraid you might get the wrong idea. I did not want you to think that my organization was attempting a hostile takeover, if you know what I mean.”

“I understand perfectly,” replied Lee. He studied Jack closely for a moment and said, “You are a shrewd and knowledgeable businessman. You opened my eyes about someone I thought was a friend. The bug was only part of the evidence of his utter lack of loyalty. I am told that he had surrounded himself by an enemy common to us both.”

“An enemy who wears uniforms?” asked Jack.

“Yes, their colleagues are known to do so.”

“But you told me Goldie’s condition was fatal?”

“It was. His experience was similar to yours, except he did not survive.” Lee glanced at Laura and said, “I have come to the conclusion that underground parkades are dangerous to everyone’s health.” He smiled at Jack and added, “He was not provided with a sweatsuit, either.”

“I see,” said Jack.

Lee raised his wineglass in a toast and said, “Today, although discouraging in nature, was ultimately successful. You are responsible and I am indebted to you.”

Laura clinked glasses and thought, You have no idea how responsible …

28

Da Khlot and Sayomi were summoned to meet The Shaman. They bowed at the entrance to his den before entering and standing silently as he gazed out his window at a clump of bamboo. Eventually he turned, waving an arm in the direction of his computer as if to explain it, and said, “We have to go back to Canada.” He pointed his finger at Sayomi and said, “Go alert the flight crew and tell them we will leave Sunday morning at nine.”

Da Khlot remained standing and watched as The Shaman’s eyes followed Sayomi’s figure as she left the room. Even a shaman cannot resist her beauty. But she is still a whore …

“There is a serious matter to attend to in Vancouver,” said The Shaman. “Mister Lee did not choose wisely for the candidate he named as his successor and enthusiastically supports a new candidate. I am concerned that Mister Lee may be blinded by his rush to correct his error or perhaps by his desire to return home. Either way, Mister Lee’s error in judgment and his rapid decision to correct the situation causes me considerable distress. Mister Lee will be provided with a test to give to the new candidate. Should the candidate fail, I believe it would be prudent to sever ties with everyone concerned. Therefore, your services may be required.”

“The special suit?” asked Da Khlot.

“No. This will require your personal touch in regard to the new candidate. What Mister Lee is unaware of, is that the results of the test will … gravely … affect him, as well. Understood?”

Da Khlot nodded. If the new candidate was not suitable, both Mister Lee and the candidate would fall within the familiar category. To keep you is no benefit. To destroy you is no loss.

On Monday morning, Rose was sitting at her desk when Jack called from home.

“Guess who bought Laura and me dinner Friday night,” he said.

“Goldie?”

“No. His boss. Kang Lee.”

“The Enabler?”

“The one and only. We dined at the Pan Pacific. Don’t worry about expenses because he picked up the tab.”

“That’s unbelievable! How? Fill me in.”

“I took a chance on bypassing Goldie and went straight to Lee. Met him Friday afternoon in his office. The meeting went well and he offered to buy us dinner, so we accepted.”

“Incredible! You must be a hell of a talker. This guy potentially could be one of the biggest organized crime figures in North America … and you just waltzed into his office? I never would have believed it. Did you talk business?”

“Very little. I think he was basically feeling us out. He said he would call me early this week to get together.”

“This is astounding. Was Goldie at dinner, too?”

“No, it was only the three of us. Actually my timing may have been lucky. By coincidence, it sounds like Lee and Goldie have had a falling out.”

The alarm bells sounded in Rose’s head as she recalled the assistant commissioner’s words in describing Jack. The Coincidental Corporal … “Oh, really? Tell me why you would think that?”

“A casual comment he made. Something about Goldie surrounding himself with an enemy common to us both.”

“I’m not an operator. Spell it out for me.”

“It means he believes Goldie could be an informant.”

“Damn it,” muttered Rose. “That’s all we need. If he was one of ours, we’d have been told. I’ll go through channels and check with VPD. See if it’s true. If it is, they may not like us sniffing around.”

“Relationships with local police forces are different than back east,” said Jack. “We don’t hesitate to work with each other. Unlike our brethren in Ontario and Quebec, out west most of us have gone through a stint in uniform.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

“Good education when it comes to dealing with people. We don’t show up in a province still wet behind the ears from the academy and strut around like plainclothes detectives on a Hollywood movie set. It’s bound to build animosity and distrust. The sooner the Force clues in about that, the better. Don’t worry about working with VPD. It won’t be a problem.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. I’ve worked with them in the past. They’ve got some really good people. Besides, we’re a step up the ladder from Goldie. Now we need to find out who Lee works for.”

“Ah, yes. The mysterious Shaman. Any clues?”

“Not yet. One step at a time. Laura and I are going to take today off, unless Lee calls. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Terrific job, you two. It’s absolutely incredible. Can’t wait to tell Isaac. After his suspicions about you, it won’t hurt to rub his nose in it a little.”

“Uh … why don’t you hold off until the end of the week. If Lee doesn’t call, it could make us look rather bad.”

At two o’clock that afternoon, Rose answered another call that was less pleasant.

“Where is that son of-a bitch?”

“Who is this?” demanded Rose.

“Connie Crane. I warned you! Where the hell is Jack Taggart?”

“Taking the day off.”

“Yeah, I bet. More likely he’s out in the country droppin’ off a body!”

“Care to enlighten me?” asked Rose.

“I-HIT picked up another homicide Friday night out in Langley. Unidentified man, stripped of his clothes and shot in the head. Found by a farmer who thinks some Asians did it.”

“Perhaps you’re not aware,” said Rose, “that Jack is Scottish.”

“Let me finish. I didn’t get the case, but I saw a picture of the victim and identified him. It’s —”

“Arthur Goldie,” said Rose, feeling stunned.

“So you already knew? What? You in on this with him? What the hell is going on?”

“No, I didn’t know. Just a lucky guess.”

“Really?” said Connie sarcastically.

“Yes, really. But the grounds for your suspicions … I was told Drug Section were doing surveillance of him while they were preparing to get a wiretap. Did they see him and Jack together on Friday?”

“I haven’t called them yet, but I’m suspicious every time a body shows up with a connection to Jack. I’m calling the narcs and I want a meeting right now with all of us. Including Jack and Laura!”

“Anything you wish to tell me before we go in?” asked Rose as Jack and Laura arrived outside the boardroom. “Connie is already inside and I have to say, she’s steamed.”

“No,” replied Jack, politely smiling as Sammy and two other Drug Section members arrived. “I think it best that we hear from everyone.”

Once everyone was seated, Rose said, “Well, Connie, this is your show. You call it.”

“We can make it simple,” said Connie. “Jack, tell us what you did on Friday, or do you not wish to speak until you have contacted a lawyer?”

“Oh, CC. You are a character,” said Jack, shaking his head. “I’m surprised … concerned … but I must deny —”

Two of the Drug Section members laughed outright and one said, “Yup, act surprised, show concern, deny, deny, deny!”

“This is not a time for gaiety,” said Rose crossly, “or unsubstantiated accusations for that matter,” she added, glancing at Connie. “We have some serious matters to discuss. We will not turn this into a three-ring circus. Jack, out with it.”

Jack reiterated the sequence of events that he had told Rose, including that he left Laura in the car as potential backup if it was needed. He said he went to Lee’s office and spoke with him directly in the hope of being able to bypass Goldie. He said that Lee was obviously interested and upon leaving his office, took them both out for dinner.

“And you told me that during dinner he said something about Goldie being an informant,” said Rose.

“That’s right,” replied Jack. “He mentioned words to the effect that he didn’t trust Goldie, that he thought he may be surrounded by the enemy, which I understood him to mean the police,” said Jack.

After a momentary silence, Connie slapped her hand on the table and said, “Bullshit! First of all, you’re telling me that you walk in unannounced to a guy heading one of the biggest criminal organizations in the world with only Laura as backup?”

“Hey!” said Laura.

“No offence, Laura,” said Connie. “But this stinks. Shouldn’t you have had a complete surveillance team? What could you have done if something went wrong? I mean, really.”

“When it comes to my life, I trust Laura completely,” Jack replied tersely. “UC is filled with judgment calls. I admit sometimes we make mistakes, but more people means more chances of being spotted. It is not always better.”

“Yeah? Whatever … but I don’t believe in coincidences when it comes to murder. Not with you. I don’t know how, but …” Her eyes searched the room for support and settled on Rose. “Damn it, Rose, you know my feelings. I warned you before about him. Jack and Laura call off the narcs on Thursday night and entertain Goldie on a boat. The next day the guy is murdered. Don’t tell me that you think it’s all a —”

“It is our fault,” interjected Sammy. Silence descended upon the room as all eyes stared in his direction. “We got him killed,” he added, quietly.

“How? What?” blurted Connie.

“We had surveillance on him yesterday afternoon. At around four o’clock he took off and we followed. Everything was going fine for the first few minutes and then we realized other cars were following him, too. At first we thought our paths had crossed with the City. Then we saw the others were all Asian. About then Goldie drove into an underground parking lot. I called for the team to break off, but I think we had already been burned.”

“You’re telling me they killed him because you were following him?” said Connie. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” asked Rose. “Goldie told Jack last Monday that this organization is so paranoid they were going to put him on the lie detector. Connie, I sent you a copy of his report. Didn’t you read it?”

“Yeah, I read it.”

“Did you also happen to read the reports outlining how much our office has done to assist you in relation to the murder of the homeless person in the park?”

“His name is Melvin Montgomery,” said Jack, sounding irritated.

Rose looked sharply at Jack but continued, “How Jack and Laura traced the gun from the U.S. up to Canada. Right across the country to Goldie’s doorstep? Including solid evidence in his garage linking him to the murder? Have you bothered to read those reports? Now you have the audacity to point a finger at him because he’s involved in a case where a suspect is murdered? If you’re pointing fingers, what the hell were you doing on Friday?”

“Rose, please,” interjected Jack, calmly. “I’ve known CC a long time. I normally respect her judgment. There have been unusual circumstances in the past on unrelated matters. It’s her job to be suspicious. She’s a good cop.”

“Thanks, Jack,” replied Connie, automatically. What the fuck! I just thanked him! She glared at Jack and then looked at Rose and said, “You have to admit, to kill someone in your organization because he is being followed by the police doesn’t seem practical.”

“It could be that they will wipe out anyone who they think will lead the police to them,” continued Rose. “Or maybe they did put him on a polygraph and he failed. What do you think, Jack?”

“I think I’m glad that I didn’t have a cover team following us yesterday,” he replied, staring at Connie who purposely avoided looking back.

“Which is another thing,” said Rose. “Until this matter is finished, Jack and Laura will not be coming into the office. These people are too dangerous to mess around with. We’ll rent a hotel room to meet if necessary.”

“Appreciate that,” said Jack. “Coming here does put us at risk. I wouldn’t have come except for Connie’s insistence.”

Connie ignored the remark and turned to Sammy and asked, “And you didn’t have any wire on Goldie? Nothing to help us?”

“We were working on getting some, but it was still a week away. Sorry about yesterday. Sounds like we really screwed up. Just didn’t know how much until now.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Jack. “You can’t blame yourself for their paranoia.”

“Yeah, I guess,” replied Sammy.

“What about the Chinese restaurant and the dealers down there?” asked Connie. “You said the ones following Goldie were Asian. The farmer said he thought whoever shot Goldie was Asian, as well.”

“Our UC operators haven’t heard anything. As far as the wire goes, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Nobody making innuendos?” asked Connie. “Sounding angry? Scared? Anything?”

“Nope,” replied Sammy. “The closest thing we got to anger was some guy upset that his delivery order hadn’t arrived twenty minutes earlier.”

Laura felt a light kick under the table from Sammy as he spoke. He knows!

“And that was it?” persisted Connie. “No calls about people being followed or a team being put together to whack someone?”

“Nope. Also, for your info, all of us who were on the surveillance team yesterday looked at the mug shots that the Asian Based Organized Crime Unit has. There was nobody we recognized, but we might come up with something once we make arrests from our current UC.”

“I appreciate that, thanks,” said CC.

“They’re big into using laptops,” said Jack. “These guys are too professional to use telephones.”

“Can you show me the underground parkade where Goldie went?” asked Connie. “I’m betting his car is still there.”

“No problem,” replied Sammy.

Connie sighed and said, “Guess maybe I do owe you an apology, Jack. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he replied. “I feel like I’m made of Velcro as I go through life. Things seem to stick to me. I understand why you would be suspicious.”

“Velcro?” snorted Connie. “More like Teflon if you ask —”

“As I said, your apology is accepted,” interrupted Jack.

As the meeting broke up, Sammy whispered in Laura’s ear and said, “About that guy whose Chinese food was late. Must have been his wife in the background who said, ‘Don’t even think of it’ and ‘the clock starts now.’” Sammy grinned and continued, “Now to me, she must have been talking about the order. The strangest thing is, her voice sounded like yours.”

Surprise registered on Laura’s face.

“Yeah, I know,” said Sammy. “Now show concern and deny it. By the way, I drink Canadian Club.”

“Jack, Laura!” interjected Rose. “The two of you … my office.”

Rose didn’t mince words when the three of them were alone in her office. She pointed a finger at Jack and said, “This has become personal to you. Why?”

“Personal?” replied Jack.

“You weren’t content with letting me describe the investigation about the murder of a homeless person. You put a name to it — Melvin Montgomery. You have personalized the issue, I am simply wondering why? Something in your past?”

“Ah, perhaps the two of you should discuss this in private,” said Laura, rising from her chair.

“Sit down,” said Rose. “You two are obviously a team. Your decisions affect each other. Unlike our meeting a few minutes ago, this isn’t an inquisition. I simply want to understand why you take the risks you do and to ensure that your decisions are pragmatic in nature and not skewered by personal bias.”

“Everyone has personal bias,” replied Jack. “Whether you admit it or are even aware of it. We all come from a past where we have encountered different experiences.”

“Yes, and those experiences cause us to be biased in different directions,” said Rose. “So what are your personal experiences with someone, say, like Melvin?”

“I’m an operator,” said Jack. “I’ve seen and dealt with many Melvins and Ophelias. Up close and personal.”

“Ophelias?”

“Another friend of mine who died recently. A hooker and a junkie. Another nobody in the eyes of society.”

“And you met her working undercover,” concluded Rose.

“She tipped us off, for free, about a guy she knew who had robbed and murdered an old-age pensioner. She would have been killed if anyone knew she informed.”

“So you believe that this nobody in the eyes of society actually risked her life to help society?” replied Rose.

“Jack believes it because it’s true,” said Laura. “She put Mad Dog and his crew away, as well.”

“I see,” said Rose.

“Do you?” asked Jack. “It goes further than society not seeing these people. Most don’t even want to think they are people.”

“What are you getting at?”

“That someone like Goldie, faced with twelve upstanding citizens and a judge, would never have to worry. Not that he could be convicted because I committed a far worse crime by stealing his garbage bag. But even if I hadn’t, any sentence he might have received would have still left him laughing.”

“Sounds to me like you’re admitting to being biased in this matter,” said Rose.

“Biased or experienced?” asked Jack. “Knowing the probability of an outcome does not mean you are biased.”

“Perhaps, but when it comes to the law, you must be accountable. Bias is something twelve jurors might discuss and reach a balance. Not one or two people deciding the fate of others for themselves.”

“When it comes to the law, you are absolutely right,” said Jack.

“You agree?”

“Of course I do, but I wasn’t talking about the law. I was talking about justice. What are your views on that?”

Rose stared silently for a moment. Briefly, she looked sad. Jack had the feeling she was remembering something. Her eyes met Jack’s and she said, “I would compare your views on handling justice to those of someone skating on a river in early April. It is only a matter of time before you fall in and drown.” She glanced at Laura and added, “Sometimes drowning people take others with them.”

“I’m a good swimmer,” replied Laura.

“Interesting analogy,” said Jack. “Do you skate yourself?” he asked, watching her intently.

Rose spotted Jack’s gaze and her face hardened and she said, “I gave that up. I respect my own life and the people I love. Something you would be wise to consider.”

Jack turned to Laura and said, “Guess if we do any skating, we’re on our own.”

Rose sighed and said, “I’ll be back on shore. I may have a rope to toss you, but at the rate you’re going, I don’t think it will be long enough.”

Jack thought about Natasha … and a family he hoped to have. His BlackBerry received a text message from Lee requesting they meet. “We have to go,” he said.

29

Lee set his sake down when the sushi arrived and smiled understandingly when Laura requested a knife and fork.

“You seem well acquainted with chopsticks,” he commented to Jack, who handled them with ease.

“I love Japanese food,” replied Jack. “This is okay, but next time Laura and I decide on the restaurant.”

“Agreed,” replied Lee.

Da Khlot sat alone at another table and discreetly watched the threesome. This clumsy Western woman cannot even master the use of chopsticks? Lee said she was dangerous.… With his soft life, he would think a bird with a broken wing is dangerous.

Da Khlot turned his attention to Jack. The man perhaps could be difficult. He is tall and does not have the physique of so many Westerners … like that of a pot-bellied pig. No matter. Much bigger men have fallen. Da Khlot recalled some of the men he had killed in the past. Big men who towered over him in height and weight. They do not look so big when they look up at you from the floor. Their eyes wide and their brains confused as to why they are paralyzed. Size is no match for surprise, speed, and experience … nor is it a match for what The Shaman desires.

Da Khlot leaned forward to reach for a glass of water and his thoughts changed as he felt the pistol he had tucked in his pants. Ah, but tonight, there will be no such death for these Westerners. Their deaths will be a bullet to their brain. Lacking the skill of an artist — but effective just the same.

Da Khlot went over the plan again in his mind. Mister Lee was to give the Westerners the test when they finished their meal. Should they fail the test, Mister Lee was to go to the washroom. Da Khlot had already let the air out of one of the tires on the Westerners’ car. He would simply follow them out and shoot them both from behind. To appease Mister Lee, he said he would steal the woman’s purse and run away. A ruse to trick the police into thinking that Mister Lee’s dinner guests were simply the victims of a robbery. The ten-shot 9 mm Browning semiautomatic pistol provided by Mister Lee would ensure easy completion of his mission.

Mister Lee had volunteered to use his own people for the assassination, but The Shaman said he wished to arrange for a suitable replacement for Mister Lee in Intrinsic Global. As he was back in Vancouver, anyway, it would be prudent to use the services of Da Khlot.

What the unfortunate Mister Lee did not know was that he would not be allowed a second mistake in judgment. He would be killed first when he went to the washroom. Stealing the purse would not be necessary.

Da Khlot felt the presence of the scabbard holding the narrow-bladed dagger strapped to the inside of his left forearm. It was his weapon of choice. Silent and deadly. He would undo the button on his shirt sleeve and walk into the washroom behind Mister Lee. If Mister Lee should see him, Da Khlot would assure him that there was no rush and he simply wanted to ensure that he had received the correct signal. He had, after all, let the air out of one of the tires. There was lots of time. Then he would stab him in the throat and sever his windpipe. There would be no noise to warn the Westerners, who he would shoot immediately after.

As Jack and Laura picked away at the sushi, Lee carefully reiterated what Goldie had already said and explained that his organization controlled the safe delivery of tons of heroin through the Orient. Bringing a ton into Canada was not a problem.

“You do not have a problem clearing customs?” asked Jack.

“It is not as easy as other countries.” Lee frowned. “But we have made certain connections who are agreeable to business. Our objective is to expand to the eastern seaboard. Something we know you could assist us with.”

“So I would become an enabler,” said Jack. “Guaranteed a percentage of commission on who I recruit and on down the ladder to whomever they use.”

“Basically, yes,” replied Lee. “We guarantee safe delivery from the poppy fields in Burma … or Myanmar as some call it these days, to the docks in Vancouver. We act as broker to those selling, those buying, and keep the peace with everyone who is involved along the way.”

“Sounds too good to be true,” said Jack, sounding skeptical.

“I’ll say,” agreed Laura.

“I assure you, it is true,” said Lee earnestly. “From Burma and on through countries like Thailand or Laos and then on to shipping destinations in Vietnam, Korea, China, Japan … wherever the next available ship can be used.”

“And you work for someone called The Shaman,” said Jack.

“His identity is secret,” said Lee, solemnly.

“But surely not to me,” said Jack. “Not if I am going to be working for him.”

“I am sorry, but there is no need for you to know his name. You would be reporting to me.”

“If you think I am going to be turning over millions of dollars to someone I don’t even know, then you must take me for a fool.”

“I do not take you for a fool,” Lee replied earnestly. “You would be turning the money over to me. I would distribute it as agreed, just like others below you would distribute it up the ladder. There is no need for anyone to know the names of people they are not directly involved with.”

“How do I know that this isn’t all an elaborate scam?” asked Jack.

“Or perhaps you are really working for the police!” said Laura.

“I am not! If you wish to take me to the washroom and search me, I would not object.”

“Honey,” said Jack. “Do you mind taking him to the washroom and searching him? If I do it, someone may come in and question my sexuality.”

“Men’s or women’s?” Laura asked Jack.

“What?” replied Lee. “I don’t —”

“It’s okay,” said Jack, giving a quick grin. “Lighten up. All I’m saying is you must understand where I’m coming from. Everything you describe seems too good to be true. It is not just my money that is at risk. If I introduce my colleagues to take part, we are not talking millions, we are talking billions. Not chicken feed like one lousy ton.”

Lee’s face lit up and his enthusiasm showed in his voice when he said, “You can handle that much?”

“If I couldn’t, I wouldn’t say so.”

“I knew it!” beamed Lee. “You are the ideal man to be the enabler for North America. You have sources inside the police already. We have the same in customs. Join forces and we’ll be wealthy beyond belief.”

“Forget it,” said Jack. “This is all very interesting, but I must decline.”

“You’re not interested?” said Lee, in a panic. “Why not?”

“How do I explain to my colleagues in New York that I am working for someone I do not know? Then ask them to invest millions because of a deal someone I just met over sushi told me about?”

“You do not believe me,” Lee said, matter-of-factly.

Jack shrugged and said, “Let’s simply say my friends are a suspicious bunch of guys. If something were to go wrong, my death would be slow and painful. All this is just talk. I haven’t really checked you out. In fact, I’ve never heard of you before.”

“Because we are new to the North American market.” He turned partially in his seat and yelled, “Waiter! The check.” His eyes flickered to Da Khlot, who gave an imperceptible nod. It is time …

“It’s our turn to buy,” protested Jack.

Lee smiled and said, “I picked the restaurant, I buy. Next time you decide on the restaurant.”

“Sounds good,” replied Jack.

“Now, about our problem of trusting each other,” continued Lee. “What if I arranged a personal tour for the both of you … of your shipment literally from the ground up.”

“What do you mean?” asked Laura.

“You would be taken to a poppy field in Burma and follow the product from there to a laboratory and on to Thailand. At the moment, I do not know which country would be next, but when that time arrives, if you still have doubts, you could then follow the shipment to the designated port and watch it be placed on a ship. At that point, you would pay for half the shipment before the ship leaves.” Lee paused and said, “Incidentally, what is your preference for how payment is made?”

“My colleagues have a bank in the Grand Caymans. A few phone calls would have to be made, but the money could be transferred to wherever you like. Split and sent to multiple accounts if you prefer.”

“Excellent,” replied Lee, nodding his head. “I admire your professionalism. So then, once you pay half, the ship usually takes about six weeks to arrive. The balance would be paid upon delivery.”

“You would be willing to do that?” asked Jack. “To expose your organization in such a manner prior to the down payment?”

Lee smiled and said, “I was getting to that.” He paused to pay the waiter cash for the meal and waited until they were alone again before continuing. “We would meet in Thailand, where it is only a short journey to the Burmese border. There are certain security precautions that would need to take place in Thailand first.”

“Such as?” asked Jack.

“Nothing serious. If you are being honest about doing business with us, you would have nothing to fear. It will be made clear to you only then.”

Jack shrugged and said, “I’m easy to get along with.” The goddamned lie detector! He hid his fear and replied, “That would be an important first step, something I could assure my colleagues about, but without knowing the identity of who we would be working for, I doubt that they would give any serious consideration to the matter.”

“And why not?” asked Lee, making no effort to hide his frustration and anger. “What I am offering is almost full access to our organization.”

“My colleagues are well-connected on an international basis. There have been times when certain groups found themselves in competition with each other — competition that resulted in bloody conflict. We agreed on a system to maintain peace by having disputes handled through an arbitration-type process.”

“Wise and sophisticated approach,” commented Lee.

“I like to think it is civilized, but how can we do that if we do not know who is the boss of who … and who is in control of which area of the world? At least I should know the name to be able to make certain recommendations to the arbitrators in the event it becomes necessary to avoid conflict.”

“I still don’t think The Shaman will —”

“It would be most unfortunate,” continued Jack, “to create a war amongst associates who thought someone was infringing upon their territory, when in fact, it could be simply that they were both doing business with The Shaman, a mutual friend. Furthermore, my colleagues may have other business ventures and could use The Shaman’s influence. Our commissions would be even greater.”

Lee was silent for a moment and said, “I will convey your thoughts. If you meet the security precautions I have spoken of, perhaps he will be agreeable.”

“I would not wish to be involved with an organization that did not take security seriously. I would expect nothing less.”

“I suspect The Shaman will make his decision after you arrive in Thailand and undergo certain security checks,” said Lee.

Jack smiled and said, “Not a problem. I love Thai food. However, I will need time to take care of some business before we leave. When would you propose we go?”

“Would a couple of weeks be satisfactory?” asked Lee.

“Sounds fine,” replied Jack, while helping Laura on with her jacket. “And for how long?”

“It is a long flight. It will take us a day to get there. I would suggest we take time to relax and get to know each other a little more once we are there. I think you should count on being gone at least two weeks.”

“Sounds perfect. We’ll be in touch with you in a few days.”

“There is one other matter we need to discuss,” said Lee, taking a folded piece of paper from his wallet. “I have talked to you a great deal about my organization, most of which I know Mister Goldie had already told you. What we have not discussed, however, is the price I have been authorized to give you for the safe delivery of your first ton.”

“I thought that would be negotiated when I received a sample of the product to ensure purity,” replied Jack.

“I can assure you,” replied Lee, while pushing the piece of paper across the table towards Jack, “that the product is the most pure you would find anywhere in the world. The skill of the people working in the labs is derived from a science that goes back centuries.”

Jack accepted the piece of paper and looked at the numbers. “Pure or not, this is absurd! I’m not paying that! You’re at least 20 percent above market rate. Maybe more. For a shipment that large, I expect it to be far less.”

“It is reasonable for the first delivery,” replied Lee. “Perhaps after that we can adjust the price more to your satisfaction.”

“That is not acceptable,” said Jack, shaking his head. “The amount we discussed is plenty large enough to rate a twenty percent reduction, not addition.”

“I am sorry. I was told there was no negotiation on this first transaction. Take it, or leave it.”

Jack threw the piece of paper on the table and said, “Then you have wasted my time.”

“You already possess a great deal of information about us,” said Lee. “You know what we are capable of.”

“You think you are capable of ripping me off? You are wrong. We have nothing further to say to each other!”

Lee stood stone-faced as Jack and Laura left the restaurant.

Da Khlot waited patiently, without emotion. It was ten-thirty at night and the sun had long since set. Ideal time to kill.

30

It was seven o’clock the following morning when Rose pushed the buzzer on the intercom and waited outside for an answer. Moments later, Natasha responded.

“Rose Wood,” she said. “I work with Jack.”

“I know,” she replied. “He’s not here yet, but called an hour ago to say you would be coming. He didn’t come home last night. I guess Laura didn’t, either.”

“I know. May I come up?”

Rose pushed the button on the elevator and watched silently as the door closed and heard the hum of the cables as she ascended. She went over the phone call she had received last night from Jack, telling her that he and Laura had met with Lee. He said they didn’t want to go home last night after the meeting. He told her that he and Laura would be spending the night in the penthouse suite. He was hoping Lee would contact him.

Rose sensed there was something else. His voice seemed edgy and nervous. He isn’t the type to scare easy. So why? Perhaps fearing bad guys might follow him home to his wife would explain his fear. Or is there something else?

She was familiar with Jack’s personal file. Married less than two years — roughly the length of time Rose had been married to her first husband before he had been killed at a crosswalk by a hit-and-run driver.

She remembered the agonizing pain she had felt. In the initial months it had never let up. If she could have even gone thirty seconds without thinking about it, she would have felt some relief. Her doctor had prescribed medication. It made her brain feel fuzzy and did little to block her pain. She slept sporadically and only then through sheer exhaustion. Eventually time helped her cope with the grief enough to carry on.

Then there was the driver. Witnesses obtained the licence plate number, but were unsure about his face, except to say he was balding, with a horseshoe ring of black hair. The owner of the car matched the description and had four previous convictions for impaired driving. The judicial process lasted three years, during which time the driver racked up another impaired charge. Those three years to Rose seemed like an eternity. Then the driver was acquitted. After all, positive identification was in doubt. Maybe some day I’ll tell Jack I know the difference between the law and justice. I’ve done my share of skating on thin ice. But I’ve also lost the love of my life and I know how that feels. Not something you would ever want anyone you loved to have to go through.

She tried to smile as Natasha answered the door and invited her inside. An attractive woman. Young, bright, enthusiastic. So much in love. So much to lose.

“I made coffee,” said Natasha, cheerily. “Would you like toast or a bagel, as well?”

“Just coffee, thanks,” replied Rose.

“Jack said he and Laura will be here soon. Had to do some heat checks first.” Natasha paused and said, “That’s what you call it, isn’t it? Heat checks?”

Rose smiled and said, “Yes, that is what it’s called, although usually it’s the bad guys’ expression. They refer to the police as the heat and often drive in a manner to make sure they are not being followed.”

Natasha grinned and said, “With Jack, the police have followed him before, as well. Me, too, come to think of it.”

“So I heard,” replied Rose.

“Jack said the penthouse he and Laura are staying in isn’t that far away. I expected they would have arrived by now. Maybe he’s being extra cautious.”

“I’m sure he is,” replied Rose. “Does it — never mind. I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

“You were going to ask if it bothers me that my husband spent the night with another woman?”

“It’s none of my business,” replied Rose. “Sorry. That was the psychologist in me coming out.”

“I would be lying if I said it didn’t,” replied Natasha. “At least, a little. But I trust my husband and accept that his role as an undercover operative demands it sometimes. I know he loves me a great deal. I’ve also met Laura. I really like and trust her, as well. I feel like her and I have bonded. I’m pretty good at reading people.”

“I know my husband used to worry about me dealing with some fairly dangerous people.”

“Used to?” asked Natasha.

Rose smiled and said, “The lofty position of management keeps me handcuffed to my desk. My work is not dangerous now.”

“How do you feel about it? Do you miss the action?”

“I’m content with my decision. I’ve collected enough wrinkles.”

“You don’t think Jack will give you more?” asked Natasha, grinning. “I know I’ve collected a few since meeting him.”

“Possibly,” admitted Rose. “I worry about the people I’m responsible for. Having two active undercover operators in my section adds to that worry.”

“Actually, I don’t worry about them all that much,” replied Natasha, seriously.

“You don’t?”

“Okay, maybe a little, but I keep the worry harnessed in the back of my mind. Jack has told me he is very good at what he does. He said if he had to rewire a faulty lamp he’d probably electrocute himself, but undercover is what he does. It’s his specialty. I believe him.”

“That he would electrocute himself?”

Natasha laughed and said, “Yes, that, too, but you’ll have to excuse me. I have to go to work. Please help yourself to the coffee.”

“Thanks, I —”

Rose was interrupted when Jack and Laura arrived. She saw the passionate kiss Natasha gave Jack, before saying goodbye and leaving for work. Jack is a lucky man …

“So what’s up?” asked Rose, once Jack and Laura had each poured themselves a coffee and sat down. “You said on the phone that Lee met with you and invited you to go to Thailand and Burma to check out their organization. Fill me in on the details. We need to strategize.”

Jack and Laura started from the beginning of when they arrived at the restaurant and used the extensive notes they made later to tell Rose all the details leading up to when they stormed out of the restaurant.

“You did what?” exclaimed Rose when they got to that point. “Tell me it was a negotiation ploy to lower the price. You did go back in, right?”

“Wrong,” said Jack.

“Did Lee follow you out to talk some more?”

“No. Haven’t heard from him since.”

“Damn it,” said Rose in frustration. “I can’t believe you did this. Sounds to me like you blew a chance to penetrate one of the biggest international crime syndicates around. The intelligence we could have learned would have been invaluable.”

“Not at that price,” replied Jack. “I wouldn’t pay that for it.”

“Who cares? We probably can’t get authorization for a kilo, let alone a ton. You could still have played along and when the time came, we could have extrapolated you before the money transfer.” Rose shook her head in disbelief and said, “Okay, let’s hope you didn’t offend him and it’s not too late. Contact him. Apologize and say you reconsidered.”

“No,” replied Jack.

“What do you mean, no? Why not?”

“If I was genuine, I wouldn’t go for it. We’re talking big money. If I have the backing for that much money, it’s from being a good businessman. Not a stupid one.”

“Jack thinks it was a test,” said Laura.

“A test?”

“I think if I had agreed to it, Lee would have later cancelled.”

“More like cancelled us,” said Laura, frowning. “Tell her your thoughts about our flat tire.”

“A flat tire?” asked Rose.

“When we got back to our car,” said Jack, “we saw we had a flat tire. It looked like someone had punctured it with a knife.” Jack stared at Rose, wondering if she would connect the dots.

Rose said, “You’re thinking —”

“Exactly,” said Jack. “In my mind, there are two obvious reasons for doing that. To delay us if someone was waiting for a surveillance team to arrive and follow us … but they already think they know where we live and we did go back to the penthouse. So that leaves the second reason.”

“You were being tested,” said Rose.

“That’s my guess.”

“And to fail that test meant they weren’t going to let you drive away. Someone wanted to assassinate you.”

“Just a theory,” shrugged Jack. “Maybe it was some punk vandalizing property. It could have been coincidental.” He locked eyes with Rose and smiled, before adding, “You know how that is with me — coincidences do seem to happen.”

Rose ignored the comment as she realized how dangerous the situation was. She took a deep breath and leaned back in her chair and slowly exhaled before saying, “Now I know why I was never accepted when I volunteered to be an operator. I’d be dead. So what’s next? Do we simply wait?”

“The hardest part,” said Laura. “Waiting.”

“Lee is anxious,” said Jack. “He thinks he’s found the motherlode with us. My guess is we hear from him by the weekend. In the meantime, Laura and I will carry on like life is one big party. If I think we’re being followed, we might visit a travel agent and look at brochures for going to Caracas or someplace else on that continent.”

“Venezuela?”asked Rose. “Did I miss something? I thought all Lee’s connections were in the Orient. What does South America have to do with this?”

“Nothing,” replied Laura, sounding puzzled before pausing and smiling. “But for Lee, it could indicate our money is going to his competition. We might be investing in cocaine instead of heroin.”

Jack smiled and gave her a thumbs-up sign.

“I see,” replied Rose. “The thing is, you should be followed. By us.”

“So we could end up like Goldie?” suggested Jack.

“I don’t suggest you use that as an example,” said Rose firmly. “I have a distinct feeling that the narcs following Goldie wasn’t the only thing that got him killed. And skip the part about pretending to look surprised. I despise being played by anyone.”

After a moment feeling uncomfortable, Jack said, “I know policy calls for us to have cover, but these guys are smart. The probability of a cover team being spotted and getting us killed is much higher than it is of them being needed to rescue us. In this case, policy could get us killed. Besides, I think the real testing will come when we arrive in Thailand — a place where us fair-skinned, round-eyes stand out.”

Rose briefly massaged her temples with both hands as she reflected upon Jack’s instinct for survival. Natasha was right. These two will be giving me wrinkles. She looked up and said, “For now, I’ll agree to ignore policy on that issue, but I want you packing. The both of you.”

“We already are,” replied Jack. “Both of us have non-issue weapons.”

“Non-issue? You mean throwaway pieces?” asked Rose.

“No, no. My mistake,” said Jack. “They’re officially issued to operators, but aren’t the standard weapons issued to uniform or plain clothes members. No Mountie symbols.”

“Oh, good,” replied Rose.

“Yes, we wouldn’t tell you about the throwaways,” said Laura.

Rose looked quickly at Laura and saw her eyes sparkle.

“Gotcha!” said Laura. “You looked as freaked out as my husband did once when I said that to him. He works Anti-Corruption. I think he believed it for a moment, as well.”

Rose grinned, “Okay, you got me. But this is serious. Please be careful. What can I do to help?”

“Let’s get our ducks in a row,” said Jack. “We have the basic identification to match our aliases, but we’ll need passports, as well. Also, permission for foreign travel to the countries Lee has mentioned.”

“I’ll handle that. What else?”

“I want practice sessions with a polygraph operator. I want to know what I can do to beat that damned machine.”

“Don’t think you can,” replied Rose. “I’ve heard that the best you could achieve for some of the questions is maybe inconclusive results. No pass, no fail. However, it only takes one question to fail, and the probability of you failing that critical question, even with training, is extremely high.”

“Perhaps I can come up with an undercover scenario that might negate me having to take the actual polygraph. But polygraph operators are experts when it comes to body language. They conduct lengthy interviews prior to even using the machine. They usually know long before they put anyone on the machine if they are guilty or not. I need to know how to behave if I am being interviewed by someone like that. What I learn from a polygraph operator would affect the type of undercover scenario I use and add to my credibility.”

“If you’re being questioned by someone who is a polygraph operator, I’d like a cover team practically holding your hand,” said Rose.

“Me, too,” agreed Jack. “Lee has been looking to me for all of the business dealings. Drugs are still a male-dominated business. I doubt that Laura would be asked to take a polygraph, and if she was asked, we would refuse. One of us is risky enough, but it still wouldn’t hurt for her to learn the basics, as well. Will you arrange it?”

Rose looked deep in thought, but smiled.

“What’s so funny?” asked Jack.

“I was imagining the look on Assistant Commissioner Isaac’s face when I ask him.”

“Sort of like a bad guy asking if he can hold your gun,” said Jack, wryly. “Remind him that I really am one of the good guys.”

“I think he believes that,” replied Rose. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be working for me.”

“Or perhaps Isaac is simply putting all his naughty fish in one rain barrel,” suggested Laura. “Easier to shoot at.”

31

Jack and Laura did not have to wait until the next weekend to hear back from Lee. It was only three hours after Rose had left Jack’s apartment that he received a text message.

“Perfect,” smiled Jack.

“You hear back from Rose?” asked Laura. “Did Isaac go for it?”

“Not Rose. It was Lee. He said there was a misunderstanding. Wants to meet for lunch. Our choice where.”

At twenty past twelve, Jack and Laura walked into Ceili’s Irish Pub and Restaurant and made their way to the rooftop patio where Lee waited, glancing impatiently at his watch.

“Sorry we’re late,” said Jack. “Had a flat tire we needed to get repaired,” he added, watching Lee for a response.

Lee looked slightly uncomfortable and quickly forgave them for being late. After Jack and Laura each ordered a Guinness to drink and beef stew for lunch, Lee came straight to the point.

“As a result of your displeasure over the asking price,” said Lee. “I spoke with my boss, and it occurred to us that you were likely thinking the quantity was a ton, or two thousand pounds. We were thinking in terms of a metric tonne. That would add over two hundred pounds to the quantity that you thought we meant.”

“You’re right,” said Jack, “I wasn’t talking metric. However, your price would still be at least ten percent too high. Sorry, I’m not —”

“No, please, hear me out,” said Lee. “My boss wishes to apologize for the misunderstanding. No wonder you felt insulted! He is prepared to offer you a metric tonne at twenty percent less than originally asked.”

Jack paused as he looked at Laura for a moment. Both their faces remained impassive. He looked back at Lee and stared at him briefly, before smiling and saying, “That, my friend, is an offer too good to refuse. We should drink to our new business venture.”

“I thought you would agree,” smiled Lee. “I have already taken the liberty of making a reservation for you both in Thailand. It is time, as they say, to get this show on the road.”

The following afternoon, Jack and Laura met with Rose, Connie, and Sammy back at Jack’s apartment, where Jack tossed a bar coaster to Rose. On it he had written: Pavilion Samui Boutique Resort — island in the Gulf of Thailand called Koh Samui.

“That’s the resort where Lee has booked us two weeks of accommodation,” said Jack. “We’re supposed to arrive in Bangkok on September seventh, which is two weeks from tomorrow. We overnight there and then continue on to Koh Samui the next morning.”

“He said once we arrive in Koh Samui that we would be given a week to recover from jet lag and the fourteen-hour time difference before any business took place,” said Laura.

“Meaning we can expect to be under the magnifying glass the whole time,” said Jack. “However, it also gives us more time to befriend Lee. See if he gets liquored up and says something about what took place in the park with Melvin. Who knows, maybe we’ll get to meet the guy in the suit with dead eyes.”

“I would definitely like to find out who that is,” said Connie.

“You will have a cover team,” said Rose, looking at Sammy.

“Four from our office can go,” replied Sammy. “I’ll be in charge of the cover team and will handle that end of it. We’ll arrive one day ahead of you, but remember, we’re not allowed to carry weapons over there, so really, all we can really do is surveillance.”

“Must be nice,” said Connie. “A two-week vacation on a sandy beach in the tropics. Wish I could go along.”

“Personally, I feel that four members from Drug Section is too many as it is,” said Jack. “We’ll presume we’re being watched the whole time. Lee picked the resort. They could even have our room bugged.”

“Well, that’s interesting,” said Connie with a smile, looking at Jack and Laura. “You two are supposed to be a happy couple right? Young, virile, in love …”

“Good point,” replied Laura. “What do you think, Jack? Maybe we’d better practise kissing and getting intimate with each other before we go. We don’t want to look or sound nervous with each other when we get there.”

“Yeah, I guess we should,” replied Jack, trying not to smile as Connie’s head swivelled back and forth at the two of them, unsure if they were joking or not.

“Hope neither of you talk in your sleep,” said Rose, seriously.

“I don’t like being plunked into a spot of their choosing,” said Jack. “We’ll give it a couple of days to recognize faces and then find an excuse to switch hotels.”

“Keep the bad guys off balance,” said Rose. “Help put everyone on an even playing field.”

“Exactly,” replied Jack. “Still, we’ll have to be vigilant.”

“September is their low season over there,” cautioned Laura. “I’ve been to Thailand. Did a UC in Bangkok once pretending to mule drugs. Very few Canadians or Americans go over because it takes so long to get there. Most tourists are European or Russian, with a small smattering of Australians thrown in.”

“If that’s the case,” said Sammy, “and they have an insider at the hotel, my team is liable to be burned as soon as we check in. Too coincidental with that many Canadians showing up. I’d better split the team and put us up in different hotels nearby.”

“Good idea,” said Jack. “See what it’s like when we get there, but for the most part, I think you should keep as much distance between us as you can. Ensure that everyone going has their cellphones programmed to work over there.”

“What about the Thai police?” asked Rose. “We need to have someone with guns if things go to hell.”

“My understanding is there are a lot of good ones,” said Laura, “but they also have a problem with corruption. When I was there last, we dealt with our Liaison Officer in Bangkok and he arranged for a couple of trusted officers to assist.”

“I’ll contact the LO myself,” said Sammy. “See what we can come up with.”

“What do you think your chances are of The Shaman showing up?” asked Rose.

“I’ll really push to meet him,” replied Jack. “If we do, and we can get the right type of conversation from him to prove he’s importing and exporting heroin, we would never have to worry about him again.”

“Thailand has the death penalty,” added Laura. “Lethal injection. You definitely don’t want to be caught trafficking in that country.”

“Might also be the death penalty for both of you,” said Rose, “if they decide to put you on a polygraph.”

“Speaking of which, did you talk to Isaac?” asked Jack.

“I did. He shook his head and muttered something, but he okayed it.”

“Perfect,” said Jack.

“The only problem is that you will not get permission to travel to Burma,” said Rose. “Too dangerous.”

“We could find a poppy field and a lab for them,” said Jack, feeling frustrated.

“I know. But between the corruption in Burma and guerrilla gangs controlling vast areas, it isn’t worth it. You could be telling them something they already know … or own. You’ll have to come up with an excuse to tell Lee that you’re not interested in seeing that part of his network.”

“Okay,” sighed Jack. “I’ll tell him that I don’t want to visit the lab because if the place is ever raided, he might blame me. Besides, in theory, all we’re interested in is the final product. Not how or where it is made. I’ll see if we can convince him to let us examine the heroin once it arrives in Thailand.”

“Lee did say you can easily take a ferry and drive the round trip from Koh Samui to Burma and back within the day,” said Laura. “So if we convince Lee to let us see the heroin when it arrives, it shouldn’t take long.”

“Good,” replied Rose. “Even that has to be arranged and pre-approved.”

“Understood,” said Jack. “I don’t fancy myself receiving a lethal injection.”

The next two weeks went by fast for Jack and Laura. Rose arranged for a polygraph operator by the name of Larry Killaly to work with them.

Jack and Laura soon learned that Larry was acutely aware of even the smallest nuances when it came to detecting liars. On their last session, Larry had Jack prepare an account of what he did on his last two days off. Some of it was made up, while other parts were true. Larry was quick to spot the lies as he questioned Jack about his activities.

“You made eye contact with me about three seconds longer than you should have when you answered that last question,” Larry said.

“I thought direct eye contact was an indication I wasn’t lying,” replied Jack, feeling upset that Larry spotted his falsehoods so easily.

Larry shook his head. “We are taught to believe that as children. So as adults, we think we can deceive someone by maintaining longer eye contact. Also, don’t forget to be conscious of which direction your eyes veer to when you are asked to recall something. Remember, for most people, it is opposite directions when they recall something that is true versus using the imaginative side of their brain to fabricate a reply. And if you pause to think about it, I know you’re being deceptive, so try again.”

At the end of the session, it was clear that Larry had accurately pinpointed many of the lies that Jack tried to tell him.

“And this is before you even put me on the machine,” said Jack in amazement. “I knew you were good, but I had no idea how good.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” replied Larry. “For the most part, you learned exceptionally well. I think you would bring about inconclusive results for the verbal interview and even the majority of the questions you would be asked once you are on the polygraph. Unfortunately, if you are on the polygraph, it would only take a couple of questions, like, have you ever worked for a police force or provided information to the police? You might be able to control your outward appearance, but inside, your body would react. You wouldn’t fool a qualified polygraph operator. Every question would be like playing Russian roulette, only they wouldn’t stop until every question was answered. There would be no passing the gun. Sooner or later, they would hit you with one of the questions I just asked.”

“And there aren’t any drugs I can take to prevent or numb involuntary reactions?”

“Dead giveaway,” replied Larry, shaking his head.

After Larry left the apartment, Laura looked at Jack and said, “Guess we better find out who The Shaman is before any polygraph operator shows up.”

“Finding out who he is doesn’t give us the evidence to convict,” replied Jack. “We need to meet him. Get him saying something we can use in court.”

“I know, but from what Goldie told us, that won’t happen without passing the lie detector.”

“Guess we better force the issue and demand to meet him before the test, then,” said Jack, sombrely.

Oh, man …

Rose called Jack on the morning he and Laura were heading to the airport.

“Just a comment from Isaac,” she said. “Larry apprised him on the outcome of what would happen if they put you on the lie detector — basically that you would be dead. Guess I don’t need to tell you that under no circumstances are you to take it. If push comes to shove and they insist, then we’ll get Sammy’s team and the Thai police to extract you.”

“For sure,” replied Jack. “I’m not suicidal.”

“Isaac said to wish you good luck. He also suggested that it would be nice if a suspect was brought home in handcuffs rather than a body bag.”

32

Lee was all smiles as he met Jack and Laura in the departure level of the Vancouver International Airport. Their conversation was light as they boarded the plane. The first leg of the journey would take over fourteen hours to Hong Kong. There, they were to change planes before continuing on to Bangkok, arriving six hours after that.

Jack and Laura appreciated the comfort they felt as they sat in first class. The role they were playing demanded that they at least appear to be rich, when in fact, every penny spent had to be accounted for. Lee took the comforts of first class for granted.

Sammy, along with three of his colleagues, took the same flight the day before. Jack grinned to himself when he recalled Sammy’s tongue-in-cheek demand that he should fly first class with Jack and Laura as part of the cover team. Rose suggested that, based on her experience with the narcs she knew, they were nothing but a bunch of dirty dogs. She told Sammy he was lucky they didn’t cage him and put him in the baggage compartment.

Three hours into their flight, Lee placed his glass of Grand Marnier down and said, “I have some unfortunate news I forgot to mention. Some unexpected business arose on an unrelated matter and I have to stay in Hong Kong for a couple of days while you continue on.”

“That’s too bad,” said Laura.

“Only for a couple of days,” replied Lee. “I’ll arrive either Monday or Tuesday. Besides,” he winked, “it is very romantic where you are going. I’m sure I won’t be missed that much.”

“Did you hear that, honey?” asked Laura, sounding excited. “A romantic getaway.”

“I heard,” replied Jack. I’m sure Natasha will be excited to hear about it, as well …

“I think you will enjoy Samui,” continued Lee. “Thai people are nice. Buddism is prevalent, and overall they are a gentle race. Not the type of people you would encounter, say, on the street a block or two from Goldie Locks. Okay, Laura?”

“You heard about my mugging incident?” asked Laura.

Lee smiled and said, “Actually I saw it. I was on my way to meet Goldie and an associate at the time. I was impressed. Where did you learn karate?”

“Just as a kid growing up. I had three older brothers and needed something to give me an advantage,” Laura added with a smile.

“And you, Jack? Have you received any training in hand-to-hand combat?”

“Lots,” replied Jack.

“Really? The both of you happen to be trained in martial arts?” asked Lee suspiciously.

“Oh, none of that leaping around and chopping boards or bricks for me,” replied Jack. “My training was hands-on experience. Not officially recognized as schools. More like barrooms and back alleys. I prefer a baseball bat, broken bottle, or a gun. Trying to chop at somebody with the edge of my hand isn’t my style.”

“I see,” replied Lee. “Perhaps not as impressive to watch as Laura, but the desired outcome is still … brutally attained.”

Later, when Lee left to use the washroom, Laura asked, “So what do you think? Why are we being sent on alone?”

“Could be the truth,” replied Jack, looking up from his Thai phrase book, “but more likely they want us to think we are alone.”

“That’s what I’m thinking, as well. They’re going to want to be confident that we’re who we say we are before showing us the goods.”

“So we frolic and play for a couple of days. Act like we don’t have a care in the world.”

“And hope Lee does show up,” said Laura. “Otherwise the bean counters might be a little upset.”

Lee said goodbye to them at the Hong Kong International Airport and assured them that he would see them soon. Jack and Laura continued on to Bangkok, arriving shortly before midnight on Friday night. The following morning found them on a one-hour flight from Bangkok to Koh Samui, where a van from the hotel met them and a forty-five-minute drive brought them to the Pavilion Samui Boutique Resort.

Jack went to the reception desk and said, “Jack O’Donnell. I believe you were expecting us?”

The receptionist was friendly and obliging when Jack requested a room with twin beds.

“He’s a kicker,” said Laura, with a smile as she wrapped her arm around Jack’s waist.

“A kicker?” asked the receptionist.

“When he sleeps, he kicks,” said Laura.

On their way to their room, Jack whispered, “Connie would be so disappointed if she knew.”

Jack and Laura set out to explore their surroundings. They discovered the hotel was in a small town called Lamai and it was set on the ocean. The long, sandy beach was lined with palm trees and several other hotels, but not so many as to make it overcrowded. Local industry appeared to be either fishing, or catering to the tourists with numerous tailor shops, bars, and souvenir shops.

It was evident that many of the bars catered to prostitution, but with Laura present, Jack was seldom propositioned or annoyed. Jack called Sammy and learned he was booked into the hotel next door to theirs. For now, they would keep their distance.

Jet lag and exhaustion took its toll and on their first night they decided to go to bed early. But not so early that Jack didn’t stand and rattle the headboard against the wall. Laura rolled her eyes and said, “I’ve got a headache. Don’t … stop! Jack? Don’t … stop.” Soon her plea picked up in pace to, “Don’t stop! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” as Jack increased the rhythm of banging the headboard against the wall. They did not know if the room was bugged, but by the knowing smiles they received from an elderly couple in the adjoining room the following morning, they knew someone had heard.

Over the next two days, Jack and Laura found the Thai people exceptionally friendly. Some were timid at first, but they did enjoy a good laugh, and a little humour went a long way. As did a basic knowledge of their language when it came to the simple niceties.

The Pavilion Hotel catered to the more wealthy tourists, and although the staff were polite, Jack and Laura preferred to frequent the restaurants or locations that the Thai people did. They discovered a bar on the main street in Lamai called The Outback. It was owned by an Australian by the name of Bart and his partner, an attractive Thai woman by the name of Tukta, who acted as bartender. Soon Jack and Laura were on a first-name basis with everyone who worked there.

The bar, like most others, was built with an open front facing the main street. People from all over the world passed by on the sidewalk and in and out through the bar. Short, squat-looking tribal women from various mountain regions of Thailand and dressed in traditional costumes strolled the sidewalk selling handcrafted souvenirs. Transvestites, or what the Thais referred to as “ladyboys,” occasionally entered the bar along with other prostitutes. It was a spot where humanity seemed to set their differences aside and accept each other for who they were. It was a great place to people-watch — or be watched.

In the evening, The Outback had a Thai band perform most of the hits from the seventies to the eighties. Jack thought they were exceptionally good, until Laura clued him in that they were lip-synching. After Jack impersonated them, the band had a tough time trying to lip-synch without laughing.

By Monday morning Lee had not yet appeared, and Jack advised the hotel that something had come up and they were checking out. He and Laura took their own suitcases and trudged along the beach for about twenty minutes to another hotel they had located called Bill Resort. It was much less fancy than the Pavilion, but Jack and Laura had discovered that they had great food, a beautiful pool, and more importantly, had the atmosphere of a family-run operation with loyal staff.

Jack called Sammy as soon as they checked in and said, “Well?”

“Yeah, you picked up a tail walking down the beach,” said Sammy. “Stocky fellow and taller than most Thai people. He purposely kept out of sight, but was definitely watching the two of you. Wearing navy-blue long pants and a yellow T-shirt.”

“A lot of them wear yellow T-shirts,” said Jack. “It has something to do with symbolizing their love for their king.”

“He also had on a cheap-looking watch with an oversized silver strap.”

“Good, we’ll keep our eyes open. No sign of Lee yet. He is supposed to arrive today or tomorrow. I left a message at the Pavilion for him to phone my cell.”

“We’ll keep our distance. Let us know if you want us to move in closer.”

Monday night found Jack and Laura back at The Outback. Music was blasting and the place was filling up. They found a seat and each ordered a Thai beer, Chang for Jack and Singha for Laura.

Jack could hear Bart’s thick accent as he sat drinking beer with several grey-haired Australian expatriates at a table directly behind him. One of the older men swore and Jack heard Bart say, “Watch it, mate. There’s a lady behind you.”

“Sorry, I didn’t know,” he whispered to Bart.

“Well then, turn around and apologize. Better sound like you mean it, or I’ll bar you,” ordered Bart.

The man turned and apologized to Laura, who claimed that she hadn’t heard him.

Jack grinned as he looked around the bar. It was very rustic, but had lots of character. In a glance, he saw an obese Swedish man with eyeglasses that were thick enough to qualify him for being legally blind, stumbling around the pool table with two prostitutes who were trying to teach him how to play. Nearby, a ladyboy was drinking with a young man who Jack suspected would be in for a real surprise later.

Across the room, he spotted a man and a woman who had moved their table aside to jive dance. They were staggering and swaying as they held each other up, while laughing and encouraging each other on in French. Not unusual, except the man was missing a foot and dancing lopsided. His prosthetic foot was sitting on the bar and he saw Tukta smile at them as she moved the foot aside to pour more drinks. All this and Bart makes a guy apologize for uttering the word fuck? Bart, you’re a gentleman. Rough around the edges perhaps, but a real gentleman.

“I like this place,” said Jack, smiling.

“You would,” replied Laura, shaking her head.

“No, I’m serious. I’ve been in a lot of bars. This is one of the best. The most fun.”

“I know you’re serious,” replied Laura with a laugh. She leaned over like she was kissing Jack in his ear and said, “Don’t look now, but across the street we have a guy in a yellow T-shirt and a gaudy silver watchband loitering about in front of another bar.”

“Love you, too,” said Jack, when Laura leaned back.

Later, after Bart got up to leave, he stopped by at their table. “Everyone treating you all right mate?” he asked Jack.

“Couldn’t be better,” replied Jack.

“A bit of a Canadian invasion we have tonight,” said Bart.

“Oh?” replied Jack, glancing around the bar while wondering if some of Sammy’s team had entered.

“The French couple,” said Bart. “Both soldiers from Quebec. Left his real foot in Afghanistan. A bloody shame, that is. The one they gave him to replace it hurts his stump. Last night he forgot it, so Tukta kept it behind the bar until he popped back in at noon to claim it. Tonight when he took it off, we put it up there as a reminder. Mind you, right now I bet he could wear it. Don’t reckon much would hurt either of them at this point.”

Jack glanced at the couple as a waitress brought them another round. The waitress tried to pour a handful of change into the soldier’s hand, but he said, “Keep the shrapnel. I have an aversion to the stuff.”

“Do me a favour, Bart,” said Jack. “Send them over another round and put it on my tab. Make it anonymous, will you?”

“Sure thing, mate. Aren’t you going to say hello to ’em? Fellow Canadians and all. Their English is good. Well, sort of. Seem like a decent lot, although a certain wanker I saw earlier today would disagree.”

“A certain wanker?” asked Jack.

Bart smiled and said, “I saw them browsing in a shop down the street this afternoon. They spotted some big ape of a wanker trying to buy a young kid. Bet she wasn’t ten years old. The soldier kicked him in the ass with his store-bought foot and put up his dukes. The big wanker backed right off and beat it down the street. The lady soldier followed him for about two blocks, cussin’ him out in French and English. Bet he thinks twice before goin’ after the next kid.”

“Forget buying them one round,” said Jack. “Make it four.”

“I’ll tell you what, mate,” said Bart. “I’ll split it with you. You going to join them?”

“Maybe later. They look like they’re having too much fun right now.”

The truth was, Jack had no intention of talking with them. He hated having to lie about who he really was to decent people.

It was a couple of hours later and not yet midnight when Jack and Laura decided to leave. The town was really coming alive and it was obvious that most of the inhabitants were nocturnal, but jet lag had taken its toll. They decided to do the twenty-minute walk back to Bill Resort and call it a night. Jack noticed that as soon as they stood and paid their tab, the man in the yellow shirt reappeared from the bar across the street and used his cellphone.

Jack and Laura had earlier discovered a shortcut back to their resort. A lane from the main street led between two tall buildings and out across an open field to the beach. From the beach, it was only a ten-minute walk to their hotel.

They purposely walked slow, occasionally stopping to look at various souvenir shops. The man in the yellow T-shirt followed on the opposite side of the street. Jack casually glanced back as they entered the darkened alley, wondering if the he would follow them there.

“Jack!” screamed Laura.

Jack felt a blow to the side of his head and stumbled, but did not fall. In the darkness, he saw two large men, each holding Laura by an arm and pinning her against a wall. A third man delivered a punch to her stomach as she tried to scream again, leaving her gasping for air.

“Hey!” yelled Jack. “You sons of —” He stopped when a fourth man appeared in front of him. Jack raised his fists, but the man delivered a side kick to Jack’s ribcage. The blow wasn’t hard enough to cause any serious injury, but the man stood between him and the others, beckoning with his hands for Jack to come forward.

“And you, Jack? Have you had any training in hand-to-hand combat?” Lee’s words echoed in Jack’s brain. These guys haven’t demanded money … no weapons … three of them on Laura and only one on me. Son of a bitch! I’m being tested and this is going to hurt!

Jack stepped forward in anger, which was genuine. His clenched fist swinging in a round arc from the side of his body toward the man’s head was not genuine. He left himself wide open and paid for it with a jab to his chest. The man was much smaller than Jack, but by the way he moved and positioned his fists, there was little doubt that he had taken boxing.

Jack purposely eyed the man’s groin, announcing his intention before trying to kick. His opponent nimbly stepped aside and did another side kick, landing a blow to Jack’s temple. Jack’s guess at what his opponent had been trained in changed. Make that Thai kick-boxing. He felt dazed from the kick and stumbled.

“Tabernac! No way to treat a lady!” yelled a man in a thick French accent.

Jack turned to see a man use the stump of his leg to kick the man in the groin who had been standing near Laura, while swinging his prosthetic foot and clobbering one of the other men in the face. This man let go of Laura’s arm and she took advantage of it to punch her other captor in the throat. A second woman, also swearing in French, joined the melee.

The scene also distracted Jack’s opponent enough that Jack landed a blow to his nose, spraying blood across his face and making his eyes fill with tears.

Seconds later, the four assailants beat a hasty retreat across the open field and up the beach. Jack and Laura both made a pretense of chasing them for a couple of minutes before returning to thank their rescuers. When they arrived back, the French couple were disappearing down the street in the back of a taxi. Neither Jack nor Laura ever saw them again or found out who they were.

It was mid-afternoon on Tuesday and Jack and Laura were relaxing around the pool at Bill Resort when Lee arrived, with a scowl on his face, about thirty minutes after he had called.

“Why are you here?” he asked, sitting on the end of a wooden lounge chair beside them. “Why did you change hotels?”

“Quite simple,” said Jack. “I’m afraid we have some bad news. We have to cancel the deal. It’s not safe.”

“What? What are you talking about? The side of your face is bruised. Did something happen?”

“Oh, that,” replied Jack. “No, that is nothing. Some guys tried to rob us last night. A minor scuffle. We weren’t really hurt.”

“Another mugging,” replied Lee, faking surprise. “That is too bad, but if not that, then what is it then? Why did you change hotels? Why isn’t it safe?”

“We didn’t like the Pavilion,” said Laura. “We definitely prefer Bill Resort.”

“But this place is not as luxurious,” said Lee. “I don’t understand.”

“Well,” said Jack. “See the man over there talking to the head waiter? His name is Moo. A very astute fellow who usually works up at reception. Speaks good English and has worked here for years. The head waiter, he is Captain Sak. Nice fellow, also has worked here for years. The cook in the kitchen is named Noy and her husband is the sous-chef. His name is also Moo. The gardener over there with the ponytail is called Mong. The maid you see walking past prefers to be called Gee, although her colleagues have nicknamed her Rat, as that is the first three letters of her surname. They have all worked here for years. It is like one big family.”

“I don’t understand,” said Lee, “why do you know all their names? These people are merely servants. Not worthy of knowing. What is it about? Why do you think you have to cancel our deal?”

“In our business, I believe it is important to know people,” replied Jack. “It is necessary for survival. For instance, the man sitting at the bar over there drinking Heineken is a police detective from Frankfurt, Germany, by the name of Otto Reichartinger.”

“He is?” replied Lee, his head snapping around to look.

“No need to worry about him,” continued Jack. “I am told he is a regular tourist at Bill Resort. However, did you know that at the Pavilion, there is a staff member who is so new that the others do not know his name. Makes me wonder if it is a staff member or a police officer. There is also something else that is unusual. If you walk through the restaurant behind you and gaze out at the beach, you will see a man loitering about wearing a yellow T-shirt and navy-blue pants.”

“The same man who was loitering around us at the Pavilion,” said Laura.

“I’m sure he is also a policeman,” said Jack. “But, unlike Otto, a policeman who is very interested in Laura and I. Which is why I think everything should be called off. Maybe wait six months or so.”

“Six months!” Lee took a deep breath and sighed. “Okay, the man on the beach is a policeman. I should have told you.”

“What? You knew we had heat,” said Jack angrily. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“No, it isn’t what you think. He works for us. We, uh, told him to keep an eye on you to make sure you were okay.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” replied Laura. “Too bad he wasn’t around last night when we got mugged.”

“Uh, yes, later I will talk to him about that.”

“So,” said Jack, smiling. “Like me, you also have friends who are policemen?”

Lee nodded and said, “But not yet in Canada. Which is why it is good for us to join forces. Agreed? Everything is okay now?”

“Agreed,” said Jack. “But I hate wasting time. I was hoping your boss would be with you.”

“He has consented to meeting you,” said Lee, “but not for a few days.”

Jack tried not to let his excitement show. “Why the delay?”

“As we spoke about before, there are certain security measures to be taken.”

“You still don’t trust me?” said Jack. “Afraid I’ll hit you over the head with a bottle of Guinness and steal the dope?”

“My boss is a careful man. Getting close to him is like peeling an onion. The security is more intense the closer you get to the core.”

“I’ve always preferred garlic, myself,” replied Jack. “Tell you what, have him come and witness whatever it is you need to do to assure yourselves that I am being totally honest. He will see the truth for himself. Let’s do it and get it over with.”

“Actually,” said Lee, “that is something he might do.”

Later that afternoon, Lee used the Internet to update The Shaman and told him of Jack’s impatience.

The reply sounded innocent, but wasn’t:

Tomorrow take them to Burma and enlighten them with a sampling of our product and hospitality. A welcoming team has been arranged. If any friends of theirs decide to come, then arrange for them to stay in Burma, as well. Should that venture go well, two days later I will send Mister Sato and Da Khlot to see you. If Mister Sato decides that we should not do business with them, then Da Khlot and his associates will.

Deciphering the message for Lee was easy. He knew that Mister Sato was a polygraph operator. Tomorrow Lee would take Jack and Laura to Burma. If anyone followed them, Jack and Laura were to be killed. If none followed, then in two days Da Khlot would accompany the polygraph operator to meet with Jack. If the polygraph operator decided that Jack wasn’t truthful, Da Khlot would kill them.

Lee reflected on the upcoming course of events. Other tests would follow, including the successful transfer of funds to a bank owned by The Shaman. Naturally, any problem with such funding would see a quick end to Jack and Laura.

Lee shrugged it off. There was really no need to worry about Jack and Laura. Briefly, an uncomfortable thought entered his mind. If something goes amiss at this stage, Da Khlot will kill me, too. Maybe from Thailand I could escape — no, I would be trading my life for the lives of my family. I am foolish to even consider the possibility that anything could go that wrong. Jack will most certainly pass the lie detector. Then there is the last remaining test after the lie detector … but Jack has no doubt murdered before …

33

Lee joined Jack and Laura for supper at Bill Resort. The restaurant was built partially over the beach and gave a panoramic view of the Gulf of Thailand. Sunset comes early to countries close to the equator, and the crashing of the white foamy waves added a pleasant backdrop to the restaurant lights shining across the sand and palm trees. In the distance, bright lights shone like stars from bobbing boats as the fishermen used the lights to attract and catch squid.

Lee watched as Laura ate her green curried chicken in traditional Thai style, using a fork to push her food onto a spoon before putting the spoon in her mouth. “Some day you must learn to master the chopsticks,” he said.

“Why should I?” she replied, sounding upset. “We’re in Thailand. It is their culture to use a fork and spoon.”

“Ah, yes, that reminds me,” said Lee. “You both need to get to bed early tonight. Tomorrow morning at four-thirty I have hired a van to pick us up. We’re going to spend the day going to Burma and back.”

“Burma?” said Jack, eyeing Laura curiously. “I told you before, there is no reason for us to go there. That part of your operation is not our concern.”

“The Shaman insists,” replied Lee. “He wants you to see a small sampling of what we can do. Tomorrow you will be shown a hundred kilos arriving into Thailand. Our presence in Burma will be less than two hours. It has been arranged. The Shaman would take it as a personal insult if you were not to attend. He would think that you do not have faith in his abilities.”

“I see,” replied Jack. Let the games begin …

Jack managed to get the pertinent details involving their travel, but Lee would not tell them how the heroin was arriving. “You’ll have to wait and see,” he said.

After dinner, Jack and Laura excused themselves on the pretext of a romantic walk down the beach before calling it a night.

“Well, this is a fine mess, isn’t it?” stated Laura. “What are we going to do? Rose would skin us alive if she thought we were going into Burma.”

“It’s only for a couple of hours. We can say we thought we were being taken to the border. If we happen to stray into Burmese territory for a couple of hours, we’ll say we had no choice. I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

“I can see it being a problem for Sammy and the others,” said Laura abruptly, while gazing out to sea.

“We have to catch a ferry in the morning to leave Koh Samui. Sammy showing up with a surveillance team on the boat would be a dead giveaway. And I mean, dead. Then there’s what, a six-hour ride in a van to the other side where we clear Thai Immigration before taking a boat across a river to Burma. Tough for any cover team to follow.”

“Exactly,” replied Laura. “There is no way I want any Canadians around me, unless it’s our two unknown friends from Quebec. Wish we could find out who they were. I’d like to thank them.”

“Likewise,” replied Jack. “Maybe someday I’ll figure out a way, but right now, are you agreeable to going into Burma?”

“I guess, but what do we tell Sammy?”

“Tell him we’re going on an elephant trek with Lee tomorrow. We’re supposed to be back tomorrow night. Then we’ll say Lee sprung it on us as a test. He’s an operator, he’ll likely know we’re lying, but at least he’ll understand.”

“Yeah, whatever,” replied Laura, acting disinterested.

“Okay, Laura,” said Jack, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her around to look at her face. “What gives?”

“Nothing. What are you talking about? I’m fine,” she added defiantly.

“Ever since we came down for dinner, you haven’t been acting yourself. If I’ve done something to make you angry, I want to know. There is enough stress going on as it is. Whatever is bugging you, I want to know.”

Laura sighed and kicked at the sand with her toes. “Sorry, it’s not you,” she replied. “Well, then again, it probably is.”

Jack felt his heart sink. Whatever I did, I never meant to hurt you …

“When I was putting makeup on for supper I saw it,” said Laura.

“Saw what? I waited out on the porch while you got ready. What are you talking about?”

“Grey hair,” sighed Laura, pointing to a place on her scalp.

“A grey hair?” Jack laughed.

“It’s not funny! Not just one — a whole group. I’ve never had any before. Now it’s like overnight and wham! Suddenly I have grey hair and am being called madam. I bet you saw it,” she added, touching her hair. “If you were a friend, you would have told me!”

“Sorry, I never noticed. To be honest, I have a hard time looking at you too closely.”

“Why?”

Jack looked at Laura and gave an intentionally loud sigh and said, “Because you’re so damned beautiful. I have to slap my brain daily to keep you in the sister category,” he added, sounding frustrated.

Laura looked shocked as she stared at Jack. A moment later she turned so he wouldn’t see her smile. He is such a liar, but I think I’ll let him get away with that one for now.

At four-thirty in the morning, Lee’s van appeared with a driver who appeared to speak little English. They were on schedule, and, at noon, Jack and Laura patiently stood in line at the Thai Immigration Office in Ranong and watched as their passports were stamped.

Jack turned to Lee and asked, “Aren’t you getting your passport stamped?”

“No, I am not going with you,” he replied. “It is better I wait here while the boat takes you across to Burma. Our people on the boat will look after you. Trust me.”

Later Laura had the opportunity to whisper to Jack and say, “He’s not coming with us and says to trust him?”

Jack nodded.

“So what do you think? Something’s gone wrong and we’re going to be executed and he doesn’t want to dirty his hands?”

“Maybe. Let’s hope we can trust him.”

“Trust him? N-F-L!”

Normally Jack would have grinned. The letters stood for not fucking likely. It was a phrase the narcs sometimes used, however, not one he had ever heard Laura use before. But at this moment, his sense of humour had disappeared. In the pit of his stomach, he was worried that Laura might be right.

Jack and Laura left the Thai Immigration Office in a van with Lee. The driver took them slowly through a quiet ghetto for another ten minutes before arriving at an abandoned warehouse alongside a river. Lee spent the time talking on his cellphone, and when they arrived at the warehouse, three Thai men were waiting. Lee smiled and gave them the thumbs-up sign.

There was little doubt, Jack knew, that their ten-minute ride through the ghetto had been monitored to detect surveillance.

“Now,” said Lee, “it is about a forty-five-minute journey across the mouth of the river to Kaw Thaung in Burma. These three men will take you across and you will be provided with an opportunity to see the product you wish to purchase.”

“What if something goes wrong?” asked Jack. “Where will you be to help us?”

“I assure you, my friend, that nothing will go wrong. Part of this exercise is to build trust between us. It is time for you to trust me.”

Jack and Laura climbed into the boat, which was like an oversized canoe. It was called a long-tail boat because of a long length of gear shaft that extended from a motor in the back to the propeller. The length of the shaft made it well-suited to handle the large swells from ocean waves without allowing the propeller to come up out of the water. This particular boat did have a canvas canopy overhead to provide relief from either the sun or monsoon rains — both of which Jack and Laura had seen plenty of in the last couple of days.

Only one of the three men, wearing an American Eagle brand ball cap, spoke a little English. Very little, as Jack would discover.

They were soon on their way across a muddy and dirty expanse of water. They passed one more Thai Immigration Office on a jetty opposite a stationary raft in the river holding three Thai soldiers all dressed in camouflage.

Minutes later, Thailand was behind them and everyone was quiet. American Eagle took off his shirt and Jack nudged Laura so she could get a look at his full back tattoo. Jack had the distinct impression that the tattoo was gang-related. As they neared a dock in Kaw Thaung, Jack saw a large sign welcoming people to Burma.

American Eagle put his shirt back on, looked at Jack, and pointed to a plastic bag partially hidden by a pile of rags and said, “You want whiskey, cigarettes, or Viagra?”

Jack would have laughed except the situation was serious. He politely shook his head, but saw Laura cover her mouth to hide a giggle and look away.

“Not allowed for Thai running boat. Okay for tourist. You sure?” persisted American Eagle.

“I’m sure.”

The three crewmen moored their boat next to another boat at the end of the dock. “Okay,” said American Eagle. “Burma Immigration end of dock. Must hurry. Both get passports stamped and come back. Hurry.”

Jack and Laura left the boat and waited to have their passports stamped by Burmese Immigration.

A young man approached Jack and whispered, “You want whiskey, cigarettes, Viagra?”

“No!” said Jack, perhaps a little too loudly.

“Why not?” demanded the young man.

“I don’t smoke, I don’t drink whiskey, and I don’t need Viagra.”

“Okay,” he shrugged and moved away.

“You sure you don’t want me to call Natasha and get a second opinion?” asked Laura.

A few minutes later, they returned to the boat, and as they were getting in, Jack said, “We got our passports stamped. Where to from here?”

“Back to Thailand,” replied American Eagle. “As soon as we finish loading.”

Jack felt a chill go up his spine. A wooden section of the floor behind the driver had been lifted out and Jack saw numerous plastic-wrapped bricks stowed away. He realized the heroin had come from the boat they were parked alongside.

“Here? With us?” said Jack. “What the hell? I thought we were only going to get a glimpse of it, not smuggle it ourselves.”

One look at Laura’s pale face revealed her dismay at the situation.

American Eagle gave a command in Thai and they were then on their way back across the river. As they neared the stationary raft with the three soldiers, Jack could see that the soldiers were selecting passing boats at random to come in for inspection.

“Don’t worry,” said American Eagle. “Never stop us.”

As they passed, one soldier yelled to them and waved them to come over. Jack saw the immediate terror in the eyes of the crew and heard their panicked whispers.

American Eagle looked back at Jack and said, “Wrong soldier working today.” He put his fingers to his lips and said, “Top secret. Say nothing. Top secret!”

No, shit!

Jack watched as one of the crew members purposely ground the gears on the boat while the other held his hands open in dismay for the soldiers, telling him their boat had trouble with the reverse and they would stop next time.

N-F-L, thought Jack. He was right. The soldiers started yelling, and for a moment Jack wondered if the crew would try to race away. He turned to Laura and said, “If they make a run for it, we’re going in the water. It’ll be safer than being sprayed with machine-gun fire.”

Oh, man …

American Eagle quickly calmed the other two crew members enough to convince them to make a wide arc and return to the raft. As they pulled up to the raft, Jack saw American Eagle pop a handful of breath mints into his mouth and give a big smile as he walked to the brow of the boat to welcome the soldier aboard, before shaking hands with him.

They spoke in whispers for several seconds and Jack saw American Eagle eventually nod his head and gesture to the plastic bag containing the contraband cigarettes, whiskey, and Viagra. The soldier nodded and American Eagle discreetly handed him a wad of money and they were allowed to continue.

Once they arrived back at the warehouse, Jack and Laura rushed off the boat and met with Lee, who was waiting in the van.

“So,” said Lee, glancing at his watch. “Right on time. I told you there was nothing to worry about. These boats run tourists back and forth all day to get their passports stamped to allow them to extend their stay in Thailand. Dozens of boats a day and this is only one spot. Upriver there is even less interference from the military, but it is more difficult for me to take you there. Also, too many mosquitoes.”

“I hadn’t expected that Laura and I would be bringing it back with us,” said Jack, vehemently. “You risked us getting caught and receiving the fucking death penalty!”

Lee looked genuinely startled. “There is no risk, that is the point,” he replied. “If the soldiers had found something, it would have either been returned to us later, or at worst, one of the crew members would have been charged with it. He would have been executed, not you. Relax, everything is under control.”

“You should have warned us,” said Jack. “I don’t like taking risks I don’t need to take.”

“I thought you wanted to stay with the product until it was put on board?”

“I don’t need to see every step. I’ll be happy to see it placed on a ship, and where it is hidden, but I do not need to babysit it every step of the way.”

“Good, that makes it easier for us,” said Lee. “So everything is okay. You have seen that you can trust me.”

“N-F-L,” said Jack and Laura in unison.

“You want to watch football?” asked Lee, confused.

It was seven o’clock that night when they turned off the main highway and onto a rutted road leading to Bill Resort.

“You have not asked for a sample,” said Lee. “Do you trust us enough to believe the drug is pure?”

“No, I would like to obtain a sample from the shipment as it is loaded on the boat,” replied Jack.

“And what would you do with this sample? We will want our down payment before you leave Asia.”

“I’ll mail it back to Canada,” replied Jack. “I’ve got a friend who can analyze it for me.”

“That will take time,” replied Lee. “We would require a financial down payment as soon as you see the shipment. Perhaps I could convince you in some other way that our product is ultra pure.”

“How?” asked Jack.

“My boss has come up with a somewhat amusing illustration,” replied Lee. “We have done this many times before with others who wanted proof of the quality of the merchandise. Let me demonstrate,” he said, and took a pen and paper from the glovebox and wrote several names on the paper and handed it to Jack.

“What’s this?” said Jack. “Looks like a list of hotels?”

“Hotels and districts in Bangkok,” said Lee. “Well-known locations where heroin addicts congregate. Point to one of the districts or hotels. Any one, it doesn’t matter.”

“What for?” asked Jack.

“You will see. It is like a game. Quite amusing.”

Jack looked at the list and randomly pointed to a district called Soi Ngam Duphli. “Now what?” he asked.

Lee smiled and said, “Tomorrow my friend, I will show you something interesting, but now I need to use the Internet and call it a night. It has been a long day.”

Late the following afternoon, Lee met up with Jack as he lay on a lounge chair by the pool. He waved at Laura, who was swimming, and then tossed Jack an English edition of the Bangkok Post and told him to turn to a small article buried deep within the paper:

Eleven people died last night in the Soi Ngam Duphli district of Bangkok. The victims were all believed to be heroin addicts who evidently did not realize they had been sold a very pure form of the drug. Countless other victims were rushed to hospital and treated for overdoses. The police are continuing to investigate as the probability of more deaths is likely to occur over the next few days, before all the addicts know to take extra caution …

“So, Jack,” chuckled Lee. “Do you have any more doubts about our product? Or would you like to see this rather amusing display repeated in some other district?”

Jack felt numb as he slowly shook his head. The real Happy Jack wouldn’t have minded.

“Is everything okay?” asked Lee.

Jack looked up and smiled. “You bet. Your boss certainly has a way of illustrating things. I’m convinced.” Convinced I’m going to kill him.

“I’m going to get a drink,” said Lee. “Would you like one?”

“No,” replied Jack, watching as Lee whistled a tune to himself on his way to the bar.

“What’s up?” asked Laura, climbing out of the pool.

“I just killed eleven people,” said Jack, lamely pointing at the newspaper.

Moments later Lee returned with a pina colada in his hand, sat down beside Jack, and sucked on a fresh piece of pineapple from the rim of the glass. “These are really good. You should have one.”

“No, thanks.”

“Where did Laura go?”

“To her room. She’s feeling ill.”

“See? You should move back to the Pavilion where I am.”

“The cook there was trained by Bill Resort.”

“It is still nicer.”

Jack leaned back and closed his eyes. He could hear the wind rustle the newspaper. Ophelia appeared in his mind. Leaning against a doorway. A woman’s words came back to haunt him. “Don’t stare, honey. That’s just nobody.” Was Melvin another nobody, too? Like eleven other nobodies in Bangkok last night? Eleven people who died because I selected their fate.

34

That night, Jack met with Lee over dinner at The Patio Restaurant in the Pavilion resort, which overlooked a fountain and the ocean beyond.

“Is Laura still feeling ill?” asked Lee.

“Yes,” replied Jack, truthfully. “The sooner we are finished business, the better. I want to meet The Shaman. No more jerking us around.”

“Tomorrow, you shall,” replied Lee.

Jack felt both surprise and elation. “He is coming here? Tomorrow? What time?”

Lee brushed Jack’s questions aside with a wave of his arm and said, “He will not meet you until you pass one more small test.”

“I’m tired of tests!” replied Jack angrily. “I know you were checking to see if we were followed yesterday to Burma. What kind of bullshit is this? I thought we trusted each other?”

“I do trust you, Jack. Believe me, my life depends upon it. Please do not be angry with me. It is The Shaman who decides these things. Like an onion, the —”

“I know. I’ve heard that crap before. I want to meet him. Face to face. That is how I conduct business.”

Lee sighed and said, “The small test I refer to tomorrow is a lie-detector test. If you do not take it, I can assure you that you will never meet The Shaman.”

“Then give me the bloody test,” said Jack, coldly. “I’ll take it!”

“Once you pass the test, and I know you will,” said Lee, smiling, “then you shall be taken to meet The Shaman.”

“Taken where?”

“That, my friend, I am not allowed to tell you until you have completed this annoying matter with the lie detector. You and Laura must —”

“Laura! I’ll be damned if I’m going to embarrass her by submitting her to such a —”

“No, let me finish. She will not be asked to take the test. But she must come with you and you both must agree to be held incommunicado from the time you are picked up to take the test and until you meet The Shaman. Do you agree?”

Jack sighed and said, “I agree, but there is no need to pick us up. We will walk over from Bill Resort.”

“No, the test will be held in a hotel in Chaweng. It is a town a half-hour drive north of us. You will be picked up after lunch and driven. Bring your luggage, as well. The Shaman is arranging for you to stay in another hotel at his expense. A much nicer place.”

“Fine by me, but I better be meeting The Shaman right after.”

“I assure you that is his wish as well.”

Later that night, Jack and Laura walked along the beach and then went through an intricate prearranged jaunt, cutting through pathways and in and out front and rear doors of other hotels. Eventually Sammy called Jack to tell him that they were not being followed. Minutes later, they met in Sammy’s room at the Samui Laguna Resort located next to the Pavilion. Also present were three other members of the Vancouver Drug Section, as well as the LO from Bangkok and two plainclothes officers from the Thailand National Police Department.

Jack outlined his meeting earlier that evening with Lee.

“I don’t like it,” said Sammy. “If they hook you to that damned machine, you’re dead.”

“The thing is,” replied Jack, “The Shaman could be in the next room. I’ll try to see him first, but even if they don’t let me, you should be able to figure out who it is by watching Lee or his buddies. It’s better than giving up.”

“But it will be damned difficult to cover you without being burned,” protested Sammy.

“What the hell do we have to lose? If we don’t show up, we won’t identify him. If you get burned then kick the doors in and save us.”

“Yeah, that’s if we know which room you’re in.

“Polygraph tests start with an interview first. Altogether we’re looking at about three hours. Surely by then you can figure out what room we’re in.”

“Lee thinks I’m sick,” said Laura. “Actually, I am, but it’s not from the food. I can use being sick to help you figure out which room we’re in. Once we’re inside, I’ll beg Lee or one of his cronies to go to a pharmacy and get me something. If you haven’t spotted what room we go to when we first arrive, then that should help. I’ll also tell him I’m out of sanitary pads. You see some guy in a pharmacy buying those, follow him.”

“It’s damned risky,” said Sammy.

“I want this guy,” said Jack, vehemently. “He’s responsible for a mass murder two nights ago. You going to let him walk?”

“I’m with Jack on this one,” said Laura bitterly. “If all else fails we can resort to tossing something or someone out a window. That should clue you in as to where we are.”

“There is only one road up to Chaweng,” said Sammy, “and it isn’t very crowded. Too obvious to follow you, turn off at the road into Chaweng and continue along to whatever hotel you go to. These guys are known for spotting surveillance. I don’t want the both of you to end up like Goldie.”

“Then wait for us on the road leading into Chaweng,” said Jack. “I’m told the town itself is crowded. Lots of cover for you. I’ve also got a map. Most of the hotels face the main road in town that runs the length of the beach. Stagger a few cars along it and wait. We don’t need to leave with a parade behind us.”

“Will it be the same driver and van who took you to Burma?” asked Sammy.

“I don’t know,” replied Jack. “If it is, the guy won’t be too surveillance-conscious. I think he was only hired as a driver.”

“You sure?” asked Sammy.

“As sure as I could be. He didn’t speak English and Lee doesn’t seem to speak Thai. I think he doesn’t know anything about what is going on.”

“Okay.” Sammy sighed. “I’ll leave a guy at Bill Resort to confirm your departure and positively identify the van for us. The rest of us will wait up the highway near Chaweng.”

The plan might have worked, except Jack and Laura were not taken to Chaweng.

At three o’clock the next afternoon, Jack and Laura recognized the same van and driver who had taken them to Burma when it arrived in front of Bill Resort. The side door with deep-tinted windows opened up and Lee beckoned for them to come inside. They complied, as the driver tossed their luggage into the rear of the van.

Now there was an additional passenger sitting behind them. It was the man with the yellow T-shirt.

“I believe you have seen my friend before,” smiled Lee.

There was little doubt in Jack’s mind that the bulge in the man’s T-shirt covering the front of his waistband was not a banana.

Ten minutes out of Lamai, Jack and Laura were both glad they had opted to have the surveillance team wait for them in Chaweng as the van pulled over into the parking lot of a fashionable restaurant located high on a bluff.

They sat and waited in the van for several minutes, watching the highway.

“Please do not be angry with me,” said Lee. “It is not personal. Just business.”

“I know,” replied Jack. “But I am developing a hatred for onions.”

“It is time,” said the man behind them.

To Jack and Laura’s surprise, they were told to get out of the van. Minutes later, they were loaded into a different van, which once more proceeded north. The seating arrangement was the same, except a different man was driving.

“Good move,” said Jack, patting Lee on his shoulder.

“Thank you. Again, I apologize. Once The Shaman meets you, I am sure he will trust you as much as I do.”

“You okay, honey?” asked Jack, looking at Laura.

She shook her head and muttered, “Feeling crampy. Must be from the food.”

Twenty minutes farther down the road, Jack politely said, “Uh, according to the sign, you just missed the turnoff into Chaweng.”

“We’ve located a nicer hotel,” said Lee. “The Amarin Victoria Resort. A little farther north, up near the airport.”

Jack glanced behind him and the man in the yellow T-shirt edged back out of reach, while placing his hand under his shirt. Oh, fuck!

At four o’clock, Jack and Laura were hustled into a hotel room. Inside were four more men. The man who let them in was Japanese and was dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt and a black tie.

The other three men seated in the room looked to be Thai, except their skin was slightly darker. Perhaps Burmese or Cambodian, guessed Jack. Two of them were dressed in long khaki-coloured cargo pants and wore dark blue golf shirts that weren’t tucked in.

The third man wore black slacks and a white golf shirt. He stood up and the other two quickly followed suit, both of them standing erect, like they were at attention. It was obvious that they worked for the man in the white golf shirt. Something about him seemed odd. Jack returned his cold, hard stare. He knew he was looking at the man with the dead eyes.

“You will accompany Mister Sato into the bedroom,” said Lee. “A table has been set up in there. He has some questions to ask you.”

“I would like to meet your boss first,” said Jack. “There are some things I would like to discuss with him.”

“Please do not delay,” replied Lee nervously. “You must answer Mister Sato’s questions first. I beg you.”

“Laura,” said Jack, “I am sure you do not wish to sit in a bedroom with a bunch of men you don’t know. Go find the lounge and we’ll meet you there for a drink after.”

“No,” replied the man with the dead eyes. “Nobody is to leave this room until we are finished.”

“And you are?” asked Jack.

“Da Khlot. You would be wise to obey.”

Laura took a deep breath and shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “I’ll be okay, honey.” She smiled at Lee while Jack and Sato went into the bedroom and closed the door.

Two of the men took their chairs and moved them between the bedroom door and the entrance door to the room. The third man remained by the window, seated beside Da Khlot.

Laura moved toward the man sitting with Da Khlot and smiled. “May I sit there?” she asked, gesturing with her hand.

The man started to rise.

“No!” ordered Da Khlot, closing the drapes. “You sit on the floor.”

“Up yours,” replied Laura. “I’ll sit where I damn well feel like.”

“Please,” interrupted Lee, looking at Da Khlot. “Do not treat her like a prisoner. Western women are not accustomed to taking orders.” He looked at Laura and said, “Please, sit on the bed with me. We can watch television.”

Da Khlot’s impassive face did not change, but a slight nod of his head gave Laura permission and she sat on the end of the bed between Lee and the man with the yellow T-shirt.

Lee leaned toward the television remote, but Da Khlot said, “Mister Sato said there was to be no television, no radio, and no talking. We just wait.”

Laura waited as the seconds ticked past to eventually become minutes. She strained to listen, but could only hear the murmur of voices from the next room. She could smell the sweat and feel the dampness from the arms and legs of the two men she sat between.

From his chair by the window, Da Khlot continued to stare at her, his face blank as to what he was thinking. It was his eyes that portrayed a sense that he was lacking in any human emotion. What could cause a person to become like that?

Laura did not know about children swinging pickaxes, or screaming people turning into corpses in muddy ditches sodden with blood. If she had, perhaps she would have understood. It would not have eased her fear, but she would have understood the true nature of the man she faced.

At five-thirty, the bedroom door opened quietly and Sato appeared. He shook his head, a sign that caused Laura to speculate on her chances of running and diving into the drapes and through a glass window.

“We are not finished,” said Sato, looking at Lee. “Only the first part. I need to go to the bathroom and then he will be hooked to the polygraph.”

“Is it going well?” asked Lee.

Sato paused, appearing to be in deep thought, but replied, “I do not have an answer for you yet. Nothing definitive. Inconclusive about — well, let me say that we have reached a stage where I can elicit more penetrating questions. You will soon know.”

At six o’clock, Sato abruptly flung open the door and everyone leaped to their feet. He strode across the floor to Lee and pointing his finger back toward the bedroom he said, “That man is either a police officer or is working for the police!”

“No!” cried Lee, as the panic swept across his face. “Maybe you made a mistake?”

“No mistake and no doubt,” replied Sato.

Laura felt like she was drugged. Life appeared in slow motion. She rose from the bed and stepped forward, catching a glimpse of Jack in the bedroom, still sitting in a chair, with a strap around his chest and wires dangling from his fingers.

The two men in front of her pulled pistols from under their shirt and pointed them at Jack. Laura felt Da Khlot’s hand slip over her mouth and the sharp point of a knife on the back of her neck.

35

At four o’clock that afternoon, Sammy realized something had gone wrong. He sent one car racing north while he took the road south, back to Lamai. The van was not located until five o’clock, parked at the Pavilion resort.

Another tense meeting took place in Sammy’s room.

“Goddamn it! Goddamn it! Goddamn it!” Sammy cursed as he paced back and forth. “I knew I shouldn’t have let them do it! It’s my fucking fault!”

“What are —”

“Shut the fuck up,” muttered Sammy to his subordinate. “I’m thinking.” He turned to the Thai policemen and said, “Is there a local police officer you trust completely?”

“Yes, several,” replied the men.

“I want the driver of the van questioned. Find out what he knows.”

“I understood from Jack,” said the LO, “that the driver doesn’t really know anything. If Jack is wrong, then grabbing him would alert the bad guys. Jack and Laura could be killed.”

“Yeah, and maybe they’re already dead or dying,” said Sammy, turning to the Thai policemen. “Use a hit-and-run scenario.”

“Hit and run?” they asked in unison.

“Have the driver interrogated and tell him his licence plate was taken as the result of a hit-and-run accident. Find out everywhere he went today. Please hurry.”

It was six o’clock when the Thai police reported back. The driver had been interrogated.

“He swears he was not in any accident and the only trip he made was to pick up two men from the Pavilion and a man and woman from Bill Resort and drop them all off at the Cliff Bar and Grill a couple of kilometres north of Lamai. He thinks they were getting in another van when he left to return to the Pavilion, but cannot recall anything about it. The police officer who questioned him believes he is telling the truth.”

“Would you like us to have him question the people at the Cliff Bar and Grill?” suggested the other Thai policeman. “He could pretend to be checking the driver’s story that he was not in an accident.”

“Yeah, good idea,” said Sammy quietly. “Other than that, where would you go to dump some bodies?”

“Hey! What’s the fuss?” yelled Jack, still sitting in the chair.

“You lied!” shouted Lee. “You are working for the police!”

“I didn’t lie,” said Jack. “Sato! Do you think I lied?”

“No,” replied Sato, “I could tell that you weren’t lying,” he said, adamantly.

“What?” yelled Lee, grabbing Sato by his arm. “You told me Jack worked for the police?”

“That’s right,” said Jack. “I told him I did. I wasn’t lying.”

“You work for the police!” said Lee, astounded.

“Of course I work with them. You know that,” he chuckled. “So do you. How do you think I learned about Goldie becoming a rat if I didn’t have friends on the inside?”

“Oh, my friend,” replied Lee, shaking his head. “That is not what we were thinking.”

“Jesus! You mean you thought I was really working for them? Christ, what kind of guy do you take me for? Sure, sometimes we have to scratch each other’s back a little, but come on! If you’re trying to find out if I really work for the police, let me prepare a few questions of my own that you can have Sato ask me. They should alleviate any doubt.”

Jack was brought a pen and paper and quickly jotted down four questions:

Have you ever purposely lied to, or deceived the police?

Have you ever committed crimes that you could be jailed for?

Have you ever disposed of and hidden a body of a murdered man?

Have you ever orchestrated or committed murder?

Sato soon appeared in the bedroom doorway again and motioned for Lee to come over before whispering the results of his findings.

“You are certain?” asked Lee.

“He answered yes to all four questions. With some of the earlier questions, my findings were inconclusive, but with these questions I am positive he is telling the truth. I also asked him how many murders he had been responsible for. He told me he had lost count. I believe him.”

“Which questions were inconclusive?” asked Lee. “Anything significant?”

“His answer to transferring money. He believes it to be available, but has some hesitation about his colleagues delivering it. It could be a simple control issue. He likes to have absolute control and lacks faith in others.”

“That, or he doubts our ability to deliver,” replied Lee. “He did not climb to the top by completely relying on others. What else was inconclusive?”

“The first question when I asked him his name brought an inconclusive result. I asked him if he has used other names. He admitted he had, but refused to say what they were.”

Lee smiled and said, “In his business that is not unusual. The important thing is he sounds like he is suited to work with our organization. Come, it is time to leave.”

Moments later, Jack gave Laura a heartfelt hug and looked over her shoulder at Lee and said, “Satisfied? Can we meet the boss now?”

“Your suitcases are still in the van,” said Lee. “All we need is you.”

At seven-thirty that night, Jack and Laura looked out the passenger window of a Falcon 50EX private jet as it lifted off the runway, leaving the twinkling lights of Koh Samui far behind. They were not told their destination and were still not being allowed to use their cellphones.

Laura felt Jack’s reassuring squeeze on her hand. She looked across at Sato and Da Khlot who were both staring at them. Oh, man …

In a seat toward the front of the cabin, Lee relaxed while sipping on a Grand Marnier. Tomorrow Jack will complete his final test. That will not be a problem. He has obviously murdered many times before.

36

They were in the air seven hours, but with the time difference, it was actually five-thirty Saturday morning when the jet touched down on a foggy, wet runway.

Lee came to the back of the plane, grinning like a Shakespearian theatre mask. He bowed deeply before Jack and Laura and with a flourish of his arm he said, “Welcome to Osaka!”

“We’re in Japan?” asked Laura, giving Jack a look like she was accusing him.

“Kon-ni-chi-wa,” said Lee, carefully annunciating the word. “It means hello.”

“Really?” replied Laura. “How about sayonara instead?”

“Come on, sweetie,” said Jack. He looked up at Lee and said, “She’s tired.”

A van picked them up and took them to a private room where a customs official quickly stamped their passports. Moments later, they boarded a chauffeured stretch limousine. Once more, Jack and Laura found themselves sitting across from Da Khlot and Sato.

“How long before we’re there?” asked Jack.

“About three hours,” replied Lee, smiling understandingly at Laura’s tired groan.

Jack tried to pay attention to the roads and signs they passed, but had little success, due to his lack of familiarity with Japanese characters. The only two signs he recognized were NISSAN and TOYOTA. He felt uncomfortable under Sato’s constant gaze and decided to feign sleeping. But minutes later, he wasn’t feigning.

Jack and Laura each awoke about two hours later. The limo was driving through a mountainous area on switchback roads. Sato and Lee were asleep, but Da Khlot sat silently, staring blankly at them.

Eventually the limo arrived at a resort and slowed down, waking those who had been sleeping.

“It is an onsen,” explained Lee. “A resort that incorporates a mineral hot spring to soak in. Extremely popular in Japan. The food served is also exquisite. Multiple courses, including a wide variety of dishes. Later, you both must try it.”

The limo drove past a public parking area and took a small lane up a steep incline behind the resort. The area they drove through looked like an immaculately kept park, dotted with a selection of both bonsai and cherry trees.

“I’ve heard of onsens,” replied Jack. “You bath nude in public hot springs, correct?”

Lee pursed his lips in a grin and then said, “I understand that Westerners dislike bathing naked in public. I should tell you, that for the most part, men and women are separated, each with their own private facility to bathe in.”

“For the most part?” asked Laura.

Lee pointed to a small structure of wooden screens and clumps of bamboo strategically located halfway up the hill from the resort. A small stream that billowed steam bubbled out from the ground higher up the hill, flowed down through the structure, then disappeared into the ground again before reaching the resort below.

“There,” said Lee, “is a private location for a man and a woman. Popular with honeymooners, but perhaps we can reserve some time for the both of you.”

“I would really like that,” said Jack, ignoring Laura’s heel as she stepped on his toes.

At the top of the incline, the limo parked in front of a four-storey mansion built in traditional Japanese style with an intricate gabled roof and tiled ends.

“This is the home of Mister Fukushima,” said Lee. “He owns the onsen that you see down the hill. He is the man we refer to secretly as The Shaman.”

“And how should I address Mister Fukushima?” asked Jack.

“You should refer to him as Fukushima-san.

“I have heard of the title sensei following a name in regard to a teacher,” said Laura, “or someone teaching karate simply being referred to as sensei. I am not familiar with San.”

“San is used in Japan to show respect,” replied Lee. “Sort of like Mister or Missus, except with the Japanese it can also be used after either the first or last name. San is not gender specific. You are also right about sensei being used in regard to someone like a teacher or perhaps a lawyer. Actually Fukushima-san is a master of kenjutsu, a form of Japanese martial art involving sword fighting. He does not teach kenjutsu, so the use of sensei with his name would be inappropriate.”

“Handy guy to have in the kitchen,” suggested Jack.

“Be careful, Jack,” warned Lee. “He is familiar with Western culture, but he is old school when it comes to honour and respect. What may be humour in your culture, may be considered a slap in the face here. If you insult Fukushima-san it would be a … fatal mistake.”

They were ushered inside into an elevator and brought directly to a bedroom on the third floor. Here, two futons were laid out on bamboo mats, and there were two silk kimonos and slippers at the entranceway. An ensuite off the bedroom offered a bath and shower.

“When do we meet Fukushima-san?” asked Jack.

“At twelve-thirty for lunch, after you have bathed and had a chance to rest,” replied Lee. “Leave your clothes by the door and they will be taken and cleaned. It will be appropriate to wear the kimonos around the building. Laura, the pale green kimono is yours. Jack, the blue.”

“Our cellphones?” asked Laura.

“I am sorry. They will be provided to you later, after you meet with Fukushima-san. Should you need anything, there will be two attendants outside your door.”

Jack smiled and gave a short bow to the squat, burly-looking attendants wearing kimonos who stood in the hallway. They politely bowed back and Jack caught a partial glimpse of tattoos rising toward the backs of their necks as they bowed. He noticed one of the men was missing his little finger, as was their chauffeur earlier. A self-mutilation he knew, made by some of the Japanese mafia, or the yakuza as they are called in Japan, as a symbol of their loyalty. Tattoos are generally seen as anti-social in Japan and are also strongly associated with the yakuza. Attendants my ass. Thugs is what you mean.

As soon as they were alone, Laura sat on one of the futons and said, “Ouch, I think a bug bit me.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised,” said Jack, nodding in agreement. “You should get out of those clothes. Lots of bugs in Thailand. Hope you didn’t bring any hitchhikers.”

Laura then went to the washroom and closed the door.

“It will certainly be nice to meet Fukushima-san,” said Jack, loud enough, ostensibly for Laura to hear. “From what I have seen, I am suitably impressed with what he has accomplished. I am looking forward to doing business with him.”

“That’s nice, honey, but I’d respect him a lot more if we could use a phone. I promised my sister I would call her last night. She’ll be worried.”

“You’re right,” replied Jack. “Rose isn’t the type to sit back and wait. She’s liable to end up calling the authorities. Hopefully this afternoon we can rectify that.”

Jack walked to a window and looked out. Directly on the ground below, another “attendant” sat staring back at him on a small bench amongst a clump of cherry trees.

Jack retreated back into the room and looked around. He saw a phone jack, but no phone. Rose will be freaked out. Sammy and his crew will be tearing Koh Samui apart looking for us. Too bad they’re looking on the wrong island, let alone the wrong country.

He heard the shower running as Laura got in, but her voice still carried, “Jack, would you be a dear and bring me my kimono? I’m all wet and don’t want to come out.”

Jack found Laura standing in the shower stall with her head sticking out the sliding door. She had a towel wrapped around herself and the shower head was pointed at the wall.

“Here you go, hon,” he said, before flushing the toilet.

“Make it quick,” he whispered.

“What are we going to do?”

“Meet the boss and get details on the shipment.”

“He’ll want money.”

“At that point he’ll have incriminated himself. I’ll tell him I need to use a phone to make plans to get the money. When I do, I’ll call Rose. She can trace the call back to us. I’ll also demand to see the dope put on a ship before the final transfer of funds. When that happens, if we haven’t already been rescued, we’re bound to be in a public place. We escape the first chance we get and call the cavalry. In the meantime, we’ll show respect, but we want him to respect us, as well. Maybe keep him a little off balance.”

“Good idea, as long as he isn’t insulted and decides to kill us.”

The sound of the toilet died down and Jack said, “Here, honey, let me soap your back.”

Laura slammed the door shut and smiled when Jack left the bathroom. They often used humour to relieve stress. Right now she could use a truckload of it.

Both Jack and Laura felt a little refreshed from their showers and each put on the kimonos and slippers that had been supplied.

At twelve-thirty, Lee came to their room. “Laura, you look great. Jack, you should have the left side of your kimono overlapping on top of the right side. The way you are wearing it is how it would be worn if you were dead.”

I might be, soon.

Lee saw Laura with a tissue in her hand, about to shove it inside the sash holding her kimono. “And Laura, kimonos do have pockets inside the sleeves.”

Jack and Laura each held an arm up and realized that the large drooping sleeves were sewn in a fashion to form pockets, easily accessible by the opposite hand.

“Everything okay?” asked Lee, as Jack rearranged his kimono.

“Fine,” replied Jack, “except for the slippers.”

Lee nodded when he saw Jack’s heels extending well beyond the length of the slip-on slippers. “Not made for Westerners,” he said. “Come, follow me. Fukushima-san is prepared to meet you. We will then have lunch, after which he would like to visit with you in private.”

“You mean, talk business?” asked Jack.

“Yes, after he gets to know you a little.”

They were brought back down to the first floor where Lee led them to a double set of doors comprised of thin, dark wooden slats forming squares of wood over rice paper. Two more attendants stood outside, but both bowed and one opened the door.

They stepped inside and Lee immediately bowed deeply to a man standing inside the room, wearing a black silk kimono. It was emblazoned with five family crests. Jack and Laura took their cue from Lee and also bowed slightly.

“Fukushima-san,” said Lee, solemnly, while automatically avoiding direct eye contact with his master. “This is —”

“Jack and Laura,” said Jack, maintaining his best poker face as he stared brazenly at the man and held his hand out. He guessed Fukushima to be in his early fifties and presumed that his straight, black, collar-length hair had been dyed. He was shorter than Jack, with the top of his head about as high as Jack’s chin.

“It is okay,” said Fukushima, walking forward and extending his hand. “I went to university in Los Angeles when I was a young man. I am somewhat familiar with your Western culture.”

Jack accepted his firm grip and noted that Fukushima moved gracefully as he walked. From behind, Fukushima could have passed for a man in his thirties. It was his rugged face that betrayed his real age. He appeared gentle, but Jack knew appearances were deceptive. The reality is that he finds killing to be an amusing pastime.

“Have either of you been to an onsen before?” asked Fukushima.

“Never,” replied Jack and Laura.

“I think you will enjoy it. After lunch, I will give you a tour and introduce you to the pleasure of soaking in the hot springs. I think you will find it relaxing. We will then talk.” Fukushima glanced toward the door and said, “Oh, let me introduce you to Sayomoi-san, my personal attendant. Khlot-san, I believe, you have already met.”

Jack turned to see Da Khlot, wearing a black kimono, entering the room with a strikingly beautiful Japanese woman beside him. Her black hair hung halfway to her waist and she was wearing a red silk kimono that contrasted with a pattern of branches adorned with cherry blossoms. She was in her late twenties and, unlike other Japanese women he had seen, she held her head high and had no qualms about maintaining direct eye contact. She gave the impression and air of confidence, of having been raised in a wealthy family. Her smile, Jack decided, looked contemptuous, particularly when she stared at Laura.

Introductions to Sayomi were made and Fukushima said, “Laura, I understand that you and Sayomi-san have something in common. Sayomi-san has achieved a black belt in karate and kick-boxing.”

“Black belt?” said Laura, with a smile. “Sorry, my achievement in the sport was limited to yellow. Only one step up from white.”

“I see,” replied Fukushima. “Perhaps on some occasion Sayomi-san would be willing to teach you so that your level of skill will improve.”

“It would be a pleasure,” added Sayomi. “I have taught many older women.”

Jack looked at Laura and thought, Sayomi, you are going to pay for that one.

Minutes later they were led to another room through another double set of sliding rice-paper doors. The room was large and spacious, with a large, rectangular black marble table in the middle, which was low to the floor. The table was prepared with six table settings placed upon bamboo-thatched mats. A variety of multicoloured silk cushions scattered around the table on the floor substituted as chairs.

Jack was glad to see that a rectangular pit under the table had been made to allow room to put in his legs so that in effect, although he was sitting on the floor it was like sitting on a bench once he put his feet under the table. The Japanese were raised since children to sit on the floor with their legs tucked under them while resting their body on their ankles. Most Westerners found the practice too uncomfortable.

They were each directed to a seat, with Jack, Laura, and Lee on one side opposite Fukushima, Sayomi, and Da Khlot on the other. Two attendants stood quietly at the door while servants appeared, first with hot towels for everyone at the table to wash their hands.

Laura was pleased to see that her setting lacked chopsticks and had been replaced by a fork and tablespoon.

“Thai style, as you prefer,” winked Lee.

Laura smiled, but found the knowledge of how close they had been observed a little unnerving.

Their courses consisted of several entrees, including miso soup, rice with prawns, crab cakes, noodles, sea urchin, and tofu dishes. Later, bowls of ice cream were brought, along with a bowl of mandarin oranges, apples, and bananas for everyone to share.

A cultural tradition that Jack and Laura each discovered was that you did not fill your own glass of refreshment. To show respect for each other, it was the responsibility of the person you were dining with to fill your glass for you. They soon realized that when they had enough sake, they had to leave their glasses half full. Any less than that invited someone to replenish it.

Despite leaving the sea urchin on her plate, Laura complimented Fukushima on the fine cuisine.

“Thank you,” he replied. “Dining to me is a delight that I feel should enrich one’s life and not merely be something one does to survive. In Osaka, I own, amongst other things, a catering business that employs one of Japan’s top chefs. I am pleased that you have enjoyed the meal.”

Jack glanced around the room. Across from him, behind Fukushima, were the double set of doors and rice-paper wall, where he could see the shadows of the servants come and go as they entered and left the room. Beside and behind him, two more rice-paper walls enclosed the room, while the wall at the far end of the room was made of wood, painted a flat black. There, a potted bonsai tree was in each corner, but a focal point on the black wall was a rack containing two samurai swords, both in bamboo scabbards.

“They are my prized possessions,” said Fukushima, realizing what Jack was looking at. “I will show you one of them. Please, remain seated.”

Fukushima brought one samurai sword over and held it for Jack and Laura to see more closely. On the scabbard was an intricately carved design of a dragon with its tail wrapped around the scabbard while its mouth breathed fire toward the sword handle.

“Note the craftsmanship on the tsuba,” said Fukushima, pointing to the hand guard between the handle and the blade. The flat, donut-shaped metal guard consisted of an open design of a miniature samurai soldier in combat with a dragon. “It was made during the Edo period, likely in the early 1800s, by a master swordsmith named Suishinshi Masahide.”

Fukushima drew the sword from the scabbard and pointed to some Japanese symbols on the blade and proudly said, “Here is his name, chiselled into the blade.”

“Exquisite,” commented Jack.

“You may remove it from the scabbard and hold it, if you like,” offered Fukushima.

Jack stood and slowly removed the sword while Fukushima held the scabbard. Jack noticed that both attendants, Da Khlot, and Sayomi quickly came around to his side of the table.

“It is held with both hands,” said Fukushima, as Jack held the sword awkwardly, away from his body.

“I have never held a sword,” said Jack, honestly. “I’m afraid my knowledge is limited to what I have seen in Hollywood movies.”

“There are several different styles of sword fighting,” said Fukushima. “The type I engage in is called kenjutsu. Unlike other types, such as iaijutsu, where the sword starts in the scabbard and incorporates the speed of the draw to defend oneself, kenjutsu is different. After the formal bow to show respect, you retrieve your sword and start the challenge with the sword already in your hand. The emphasis is more on attacking, as well as defence.”

“I’m afraid I prefer a rifle or a shotgun,” said Jack.

Fukushima laughed and said, “So little honour in using a gun, but I know your Western culture reflects that unfortunate trait.”

“And I understand your culture finds honour in falling on your sword,” said Jack. “What is it called? Hara-kiri? We call it suicide.”

“Hara-kiri is more of a slang expression,” replied Fukushima. “The proper term is seppuku. It is called oibara if it is performed because of the death of one’s master.”

“People would kill themselves because their boss died?” asked Jack.

“Loyalty is admired and respected.” Fukushima shrugged. “Either way, the ritual involves plunging the samurai sword into the left side of your abdomen and slicing through to the right side.”

“Oh, gross!” said Laura.

“Imagine the degree of honour one must have to perform such a ritual,” said Fukushima. “Historically, the samurai were renowned for their code of honour. The true samurai may be gone, but their legacy of honour and loyalty is very much a part of our culture.”

“I also believe in honour,” replied Jack. “A man’s word is extremely important to me, as well, but I must confess, I do not believe I would ever have the courage, or desire, to perform such an act.”

Fukushima smiled and said, “By that admission, it does show that you are honest. I believe that few Japanese people would also complete such a ritual. It would take tremendous courage.”

Or a complete lack of respect for your own life … “Please, I realize it is valuable … also very sharp,” said Jack, as he dangled the weapon with his fingers on the handle while gingerly passing it back to Fukushima.

“It is very sharp,” said Fukushima, while returning to the far end of the room, where he replaced the scabbard in the rack, but held the sword with both hands. “Khot-san! Lee-san! Demonstrate for our guests!”

Da Khlot and Lee each snatched an apple from the table and threw them simultaneously at Fukushima, who severed both apples in one single swoop of the sword. His speed, agility, and hand-eye coordination was nothing short of phenomenal.

“Holy Christ,” Jack muttered to himself. By Laura’s open mouth and wide eyes, he knew she was also stunned by the speed and skill of what they had just witnessed.

Lee turned to Jack and Laura and said, “Now you see why I told you he is a master in kenjutsu.”

Jack watched as a young man who had been serving them food quickly approached Fukushima and bowed with his hands held before him. Fukushima gave him the sword and the servant bowed again and left the room to clean it. Not a word had been spoken to the servant. There was little doubt Fukushima had performed the demonstration many times before.

After lunch, Fukushima said, “Come, I will show you what other pleasures you may enjoy while you are my guests.”

Next to the banquet room there was a steam room, with wide, cedar planks making up the walls, floor, and ceiling, along with a cedar bench. Opposite that was another door which led to the outside and a private patio used to cool down, if one should desire.

The next room down the hall was smaller, but contained two massage tables. Fukushima turned to Sayomi and said, “You and Laura will now enjoy a massage.” He looked at Jack, smiled, and added, “It is time for us to talk. Only the two of us. I have a private spa that the two of us can use. It will be more relaxing.”

Jack walked with Fukushima to a change room. Fukushima gave an order in Japanese, and Da Khlot, along with two attendants, sat on a bench while Jack and Fukushima stripped completely naked. Jack followed Fukushima’s lead and picked up a face cloth and followed him through another door.

Fukushima’s spine was completely covered in a tattoo that resembled a spinal skeleton. Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He knew the yakuza had huge memberships. The largest yakuza clan based out of nearby Kobe was reputed to have 39,000 members. What are we doing here? This is insane. Get some conversation from him and get the hell out!

Jack discovered that the next door led to an outdoor pool. The pool, easily large enough to accommodate twenty people, was billowing steam. Hot water, fed from a mineral spring, poured in from an overhang close to the roof. At the opposite end of the pool, a hole covered by a grate allowed water to continue outside into a small stream, where it disappeared into the ground.

Part of the pool was protected by the overhang from the roof, but if one chose, you could also sit in the open. Tall clumps of bamboo, along with wooden screens, provided privacy.

Jack stuck his head out past a screen. He could see the well-manicured grounds. The clusters of bamboo, along with the bonsai trees, made it exotic. The hot springs reappeared a short distance away, revealing its route down the hill with a rise of steamy mist. The stream disappeared around some large boulders into the private honeymoon spa before reappearing farther down the hill and travelling on to the public resort. Normally he would have thought it beautiful. A romantic and tranquil setting, decided Jack, had it not been for the situation they were in.

He followed Fukushima into a small alcove beside the pool, containing a row of six shower heads no higher than Jack’s waist. Small wooden stools were in front of each shower head. Jack followed Fukushima’s example of sitting on a stool and soaping and washing his entire body before entering the pool.

“Is there a Missus Fukushima-san?” asked Jack.

“Yes, she lives with my two sons in Tokyo. Both of my sons are in university there.” Fukushima eyed Jack carefully and said, “You and Laura do not have any children yet?”

“We both want to.”

“I feel more comfortable doing business with a man who has a family. I believe him to be more stable.”

Right, someone you can go after if things go wrong. “Does Lee-san have a family?”

“Yes, also in Tokyo.”

Jack felt the hot water soothe his body. Had he been there with Natasha, it would have been wonderful. Sitting in a mineral spring with a mass murderer who was the head of an organized crime syndicate was much less appealing.

“Are you enjoying it?” asked Fukushima. “It may interest you to know that you are the first Westerner to ever step foot in my private spa.”

“I would enjoy it more,” replied Jack, “if business was out of the way. I have not had access to any communication for over twenty-four hours. There are people who will be concerned, not to mention financial arrangements that need to be made.”

“As far as financial arrangements go, I am a patient man and would expect that such arrangements may take a week or so. The product you are purchasing will be available for you to view within two days. It will be loaded on a ship in Kobe, not far from here. Naturally, you and Laura will be my guests until such time as I have received the first payment.”

“Viewing a ton of heroin makes me nervous,” replied Jack. “I would hate to end up in a Japanese prison, or any prison, for that matter.”

“I would never dishonour myself with your arrest if I was not absolutely certain,” replied Fukushima. “I guarantee your safety. You have my word on that, although I understand that you come from a culture where people lack honour. Should you not want to view the product yourself, you may choose a representative who will be taken to see it. However, I must stress that such a representative would be blindfolded coming and going from where the product is located. We may trust each other, but it is more difficult to always trust one’s employees.”

“Understandable,” replied Jack, “but I must phone some people to start the process.”

“Before you go to bed tonight, such services will be returned to you. Tomorrow, if you and Laura would like to go shopping, or perhaps visit the popular nearby tourist destination of Kyoto, I will gladly arrange for a limousine and driver to take you.”

“Great, so why not return my phone now?” asked Jack.

Fukushima paused, staring at Jack intently for a moment before saying, “On that subject, let me ask you a question. What would you do if you discovered that an employee had been stealing money from you, or perhaps your customers? How would that be handled in your Western culture?”

“If it was my business,” said Jack, assuming the role of the Irish mobster, “I suspect I would handle it the same way as you.” He smiled, using his hand to make a slashing gesture across his throat.

“Exactly,” replied Fukushima. “I spoke to Mister Sato after he interviewed you in Koh Samui. I understand that you are personally familiar with performing such a task.”

Jack shrugged, acting indifferent.

“There is a final test I wish you to perform,” said Fukushima.

“Another test! I have already passed the lie detector. What more could you possibly ask?”

Anger appeared on Fukushima’s face. He was not used to being spoken to so harshly. “For you it will not be difficult,” he said sternly. “I have an employee who works for me at my catering company in Osaka. He has been stealing from us.”

Despite the heat from the mineral springs, Jack felt goosebumps spread across his flesh.

“After work he will be put in a van and brought here. He will arrive at nine o’clock tonight. You will kill him.”

Jack felt stunned as his mind raced, trying to figure out how to respond. “Why should I kill him?” he finally asked.

“You must understand,” said Fukushima, “that we know little about you. Initial inquiries made in Montreal resulted in a severe beating. Further, more discreet inquiries were made. Rumours exist of the … shall we say, magnitude of your success in business and the close ties you have to families in New York. There are many rumours. Some say you are no longer active. Others say you are still living in Montreal.”

Jack smiled and said, “Good, I prefer my enemies to never know exactly where I am.”

“I understand that,” replied Fukushima, “although you must have few enemies.”

“Why would you say that?” asked Jack.

“You do not have a bodyguard. Certainly,” he smiled, “you have Laura. I also have Sayomi-san, but I also ensure I have someone like Khlot-san nearby. His talents are extraordinary.”

“How so?”

“He was taken in by the Khmer Rouge as a child. He is well experienced and is an expert with a knife. He knows a spot on the back of a person’s neck where he can sever the spinal cord in one thrust. Death for some of his victims can be a long time in coming. Now I usually find a more expedient need for his services.”

“Such as?”

“He is useful to have around in some countries where it is difficult to carry guns.”

“I see,” replied Jack.

“I know from your polygraph test that you are personally experienced in these matters, but your personal experience has not become our personal experience.”

“After passing the lie detector, I must say, I feel insulted that you still do not trust me,” said Jack. “I am a Westerner, but I assure you, I am a man of honour.”

“It is not because you are Caucasian that you must do this.” Fukushima paused to wipe his eyes with a facecloth before continuing. “I had Mister Lee perform the same task for me not long ago in your country. There it took place in a park. Here, the sauna room will suffice. It is private and the wooden flooring is easily replaced if necessary.”

“And who did Mister Lee kill?” asked Jack.

Fukushima waved his hand as if it was insignificant and said, “It was nobody.”

Jack heard himself inhale sharply at Fukushima’s choice of word in describing Melvin.

“It is the act of murder that is important to display loyalty,” continued Fukushima, “not who.” He smiled and added, “Mister Lee is not experienced in such tasks. He worried so much about getting blood on his clothes that he placed a plastic bag over the man to shield himself. He should have worried more about his aim. I trust for you that aim will not be a problem.”

So that is why Melvin was murdered, thought Jack. Destroy a human life as a display of loyalty. Your only concern is to not soil your clothes from the blood. He stared sullenly at Fukushima. I want so bad to wrap my hands around your throat. Press my thumbs into your windpipe and hold you under —

“Is there a problem?” asked Fukushima suspiciously.

Jack sighed and said, “If Mister Lee is so inexperienced in such matters, I am surprised that he did not refuse.”

Fukushima laughed and said, “He would never refuse anything I ask. If someone did that, then it would be their body found in a park.”

37

“It is about three-thirty,” said Fukushima, getting out of the pool. “Dinner will be at seven. Would you like to enjoy a massage? There is plenty of time.”

“Actually,” replied Jack. “I would prefer to enjoy the hot mineral waters with Laura in private.”

“I understand,” smiled Fukushima. “Such beauty should be enjoyed. I will send for her. If you decide there is anything either of you would like, such as chilled wine or a beverage, simply call one of the attendants waiting in the next room.”

The minutes ticked by as Jack sat alone, waiting for Laura to arrive. He knew they had to escape, but how? He climbed out of the pool and peered past a wooden screen toward the resort below. Choke the guards unconscious, steal their clothes, and do a dash down the hill? We would never make it. Even if we did, they would find us within a minute.

Then he heard it. Voices of a young couple carried softly up the hill. “Akiyo!” said the man, “I’ll get you for that!” It was followed by the sound of splashing and laughing. Whoever the man was, he spoke again, but in Japanese. Did I really hear what I think I did?

“Jack?” said Laura, peeking out the door behind him as he stood naked, with his back toward her. “You, uh, want me to join you?”

Jack turned his head quickly and saw Laura, with Sayomi looking over her shoulder.

“Yes, honey. It’s beautiful in here,” he added, getting back into the pool as Laura found a sudden need to turn her head and wipe her eye with a finger. Sayomi’s stare indicated she was not shy about her curiosity.

“I thought it would be romantic, just the two of us,” added Jack.

“I’ll wait with Khlot,” said Sayomi. “But if you are too long, I will join you.”

Moments later, Laura slowly stuck her head out the door again and saw Jack standing in the pool with his back toward her as he stared at the wooden screen. He waited until he heard her in the pool before turning around.

“I don’t happen to be in the mood for romance,” she whispered tersely.

“This is one place we can talk,” whispered Jack, “without having to worry that the room is bugged.” He proceeded to speak quickly, telling her what Fukushima had said, pausing once and putting his finger to his lips to silence Laura when he heard the faint sound of laughter from the young couple down below.

“We need to escape!” said Laura.

“The couple we heard laughing from down at the resort,” said Jack, indicating the direction with his thumb. “I’m positive the guy spoke English a moment ago.”

“You sure?”

“I think so. I was trying to listen when you first arrived,” said Jack, climbing back out of the pool.

“You look at me and I’ll tell Natasha,” said Laura, climbing out with him.

They both peered out from behind the screen and heard the murmur of voices again.

“It’s not from the resort,” said Laura. “It’s the honeymoon spa, halfway up the hill.”

Jack saw two of Fukushima’s thugs between them and the spa. One man was still sitting on the bench under the window of Jack and Laura’s bedroom while the other was strolling around.

“I have to sneak down there,” said Jack. “If it’s some tourist and he’s English, it may be our only hope.”

“And if it’s someone who works for Fukushima, we’re dead,” replied Laura.

“We will be, anyway. I don’t see any other choice.”

“You think you can streak down there without being seen? Good luck, not to mention the screaming when some naked man busts in on a couple on their honeymoon. Or do you figure we should both go and slap sleeper holds on them if they start to yell?” she added, dubiously.

“I think I can make it by crouching low or crawling through the stream bed,” said Jack. “Your problem will be to make sure Sayomi or Da Khlot don’t walk in and find me gone.”

“Oh, man. We could be risking other people’s lives.”

“It’s our only hope,” said Jack, “and neither guard is paying much attention. They hardly expect us to walk naked down to the resort. “If the guy is English, it shouldn’t be a problem to convince him to go back to his room and make a phone call for us. The bad guys won’t know anything is up until the cavalry charges in. It’s a calculated risk, but one I think we should take.”

Laura nodded silently.

Jack crouched as he ran toward the small stream, diving on his belly like a baseball player coming into home plate as he skidded the remaining distance into the shallow trench etched out by the water.

It didn’t take him long to make his way to the structure containing the exclusive spa. On the other side of a large boulder he could hear the couple talking softly to each other in Japanese.

“Hello?” said Jack. He heard the startled whisper of the young woman in Japanese.

“Hello,” responded the young man. “I believe we still have fifteen minutes booked on our time.”

“I’m not here for the spa,” replied Jack. “I need your help. Where are you from?”

“We’re from Osaka.”

“You sound English?”

“I’m Canadian, but my wife and I live in Osaka.”

“Thank Christ,” mumbled Jack. “I’m also Canadian. My name is Jack Taggart. I’m an undercover Mountie. Is it okay if I come around this boulder and talk to you? It is literally a matter of life and death and I only have a couple of minutes. By the way, I’m also naked.”

Moments later, Jack was invited to come closer and he saw a young couple comprised of a Caucasian man and Japanese woman. The woman was wearing a kimono and crouched down beside the stream near where the man was sitting up to his neck in water.

He introduced himself as Mike and his wife as Akiyo.

Jack quickly told them as many details as he figured they needed to know. “What I need,” said Jack, “is for you to call my boss in Canada and tell her exactly where we are and get the Japanese police to rescue us. Her name is Rose Wood. Our bedroom is on the second floor down from the top on the far side of the building up there,” said Jack, pointing in the direction of Fukushima’s mansion concealed behind some wooden screens. “Describe its location to her so she can pass it on to the Japanese police.

“Then we can see your room from ours,” said Mike. “We look out over the back of the resort.”

“I know my boss’s phone number,” said Jack. “Do you think you could memorize it and phone her for me?”

“I got my degree in computer software engineering,” replied Mike. “Believe me, I’m good with numbers.”

“Perhaps this would be of assistance,” said Akiyo, slipping her hand inside the sleeve of her kimono.

Jack gave her the biggest smile he believed he had ever given anyone in his life. Akiyo was an exceptionally beautiful woman, but that was not the reason her image would remain etched in his memory forever. It was the sweet look of genuine concern on her face as she held her arms outstretched with her palms up. In her upturned hands she was offering a cellphone.

Moments later, with Mike’s assistance, Jack dialled the numbers necessary to make a long-distance call and connect with Rose.

“Yes, we’re still above ground,” said Jack, as soon as she answered, “but we won’t be for long if you don’t let me explain.”

Jack spoke rapidly, pointing out the urgent necessity to have backup immediately. “Rose, the couple who are helping me, Mike and Akiyo, their room faces ours. Perhaps the police could use it for an observation post?”

Mike nodded in agreement.

“If the police hold off on rescuing us until a van from the catering company shows up with a hostage,” said Jack, “it should provide good evidence to convict Fukushima. At the moment, all we have is my word against his.”

“What if something goes wrong before then?” asked Rose.

“We’re dead if the police aren’t here,” replied Jack. “But if they are, tell them to hang a towel outside Mike and Akiyo’s window to let us know. If something is going wrong, I’ll make an excuse to go back to our room and do likewise as a sign we need help. Other than that, if they hear the sound of breaking glass or see someone flying out a window, take it as a sign we need help.”

“You can keep the phone,” said Mike.

“I heard that,” said Rose, “but it still sounds damned risky to me!”

“The police should be here by seven,” said Jack. “That gives us two hours before the van with the hostage arrives. We need more evidence and the hostage should provide that. As far as risk goes, we’re operators. That’s what we do. We’re already in hot water, so to speak, we should be able to handle another couple of hours.”

Rose reluctantly agreed and said she would immediately contact the RCMP Liaison Officer in Tokyo.

“Has Natasha been alerted that we’re missing?” asked Jack. “Or Laura’s —”

“No.”

Jack breathed a sigh of relief and replied, “Good. Tomorrow is Sunday. She’s expecting me to call. If somehow I can’t, uh, you know, get to a phone, please tell her I love her.”

Rose sighed and said, “You damn well better make sure you call her yourself. Right now I have something more urgent I need to know. Exactly where the hell are you?”

Jack handed the phone to Mike to explain.

Minutes later, Jack made it back to where Laura was waiting and carrying on a one-sided conversation. He glanced over his shoulder as he entered and saw Mike and Akiyo walking into the resort below.

“So anyway,” said Laura, “you sit there ignoring me like you haven’t heard a word I said. Don’t you have anything to say?”

Jack grinned and held the cellphone in his hand, before using the face cloth to conceal it. “I guess I can say I love you,” he said.

“Oh, baby,” replied Laura, “I love you, too.”

It was quarter to seven when Jack and Laura once more entered their bedroom washroom and used the noise of the shower and the toilet to cover the sound as Jack turned on the cellphone and called Rose.

“The LO in Tokyo says Fukushima heads one of the biggest yakuza families in Japan,” said Rose. “He has over fifteen thousand guys working for him. The Japanese police are ecstatic. They can’t believe a foreigner could penetrate Fukushima to this level.”

“Being a foreigner is probably why we did,” said Jack.

“They’ve got a team who should be in the observation post any minute. They’ve also spotted the catering van coming in your direction and are doing a loose surveillance of it. Still about two hours away. If you can, they would like you both to make an excuse and go to your room around eight-thirty. They’ll rush the place ten minutes later. I can give you a direct number.”

“I feel safer going through you. You’re on redial and I know it works. English is your native tongue. If I call, I may have to speak in code.”

It was five minutes to seven and Jack and Laura knew they had to go downstairs for dinner. They were turning from their window when another window opened on the resort below and a towel was draped over the windowsill.

Jack and Laura smiled at each other. Help has arrived! We’re going to be okay!

The next fifteen minutes would prove them dead wrong.

38

Jack and Laura met Fukushima, Da Khlot, Sayomi, and Lee as they entered the banquet room. Everyone bowed toward each other before taking the same seating arrangement they had previously, with Lee, Laura, and Jack on one side and Da Khlot, Sayomi, and Fukushima on the other. The only difference, Jack noted, was that while all the rest were dressed in kimonos, Da Khlot wore an expensive tailored suit.

Same as before, two attendants stood by the door while servants brought in the first course, a soup consisting of chicken broth, mushrooms, bamboo shoots, celery, and parsley.

Considering that someone was to be murdered in two hours, Jack thought Fukushima seemed rather cheery, making light conversation about the weather in Canada and the quantity of available golf courses.

Fukushima’s behaviour abruptly changed after he set his porcelain soup spoon down and answered his cellphone. He only uttered one or two words as he listened.

“Excuse me,” he said, looking at Jack and Laura when he hung up. “Lee-san, Khlot-san, come with me. A business matter needs to be addressed. It will only take a minute. Please, continue to enjoy your soup.”

Fukushima uttered a command in Japanese and the two attendants followed the trio out the door. Jack could see the men’s shadows on the rice-paper doors as they stood whispering in the hallway. The shadow of an attendant quickly disappeared down the hall, only to return moments later, in the company of others.

Jack smiled politely at Sayomi while nudging Laura with his knee under the table. He felt her nudge back. Something was wrong and they both knew it.

If they had any doubts that it involved the two of them, they were were quashed when the doors slid open again. The trio returned with six attendants. Fukushima barked an order at the servants and they quickly disappeared from sight.

“I am afraid that dinner must be interrupted,” said Fukushima, briskly walking to the far end of the room and removing a samurai sword from the scabbard.

Da Khlot’s face held his usual impassive look as he bent over and whispered in Sayomi’s ear. She looked startled, quickly glancing at Jack and Laura as she scrambled to her feet. Lee stood to one side, his head bowed toward the floor as his body trembled.

“That is most unfortunate,” said Jack. “The soup is excellent. Is there a problem?”

“No problem,” replied Fukushima. “Simply an alteration in plans. Your task that you were to perform at nine o’clock will be performed now.”

“The, uh, person from Osaka is here already?” asked Jack.

“No,” replied Fukushima. “I have selected someone else.”

“I see,” replied Jack. “Then if you will excuse me for a moment, I need to go back to my room and use the washroom. I shall return in a moment,” he said, getting to his feet.

“You will not be going anywhere!” said Fukushima, allowing his rage to show.

Jack swallowed. They know. It is Laura and I who are to be executed! “There obviously appears to be a problem,” said Jack, pretending to sound surprised. “Is there something we should discuss?” he added, with genuine concern.

“You do not know what that problem is?” said Fukushima sarcastically.

“No, I don’t,” said Jack, wanting an opportunity to deny any accusations.

“Perhaps you don’t,” replied Fukushima, as a wicked smile appeared on his face. “The problem is with Lee!” he said, pointing the end of the samurai sword in Lee’s direction.

“With … Lee?” said Jack, feeling both astounded and briefly relieved. Fukushima was no longer using the polite version of san at the end of Lee’s name.

A glance at Lee showed a face with bulging dark eyes contrasting with a face that was pasty white.

“Yes,” replied Fukushima. “You will kill him immediately,” he said menacingly.

Jack glanced at Lee, who now remained bowed as his body shook.

“But why Lee?” asked Jack. “Surely you don’t —”

“You will not ask me questions,” said Fukushima. “If Lee is not dead within one minute, you and Laura will be.”

Jack heard Laura’s gasp as they both glanced around the room in panic. All six attendants and Da Khlot withdrew pistols and quietly started fixing silencers to the ends.

“I do not understand,” said Jack, “but it is obvious that you have your reasons. If someone would be so kind as to lend me their pistol, I will take Lee next door to the sauna room and carry out your request. It would be rude and lack dignity to conduct such an action in a place where people eat, not to mention in the presence of two ladies.”

“You really believe that I would have my men hand you a loaded pistol?” said Fukushima angrily.

“I am not about to hack at the poor man with a sword,” replied Jack. “One bullet is all I need. Surely, with the army you have present, that would not make you afraid?”

“So you would do that?” said Fukushima, with a hint of disgust in his voice.

“It would not be the first time I have had to perform such an act to gain someone’s trust,” replied Jack. “Obviously you have heard something that has caused you not to trust us. Perhaps this act will restore that trust? With my people, we refer to it as the Sophie Solution,” he added with a sideways glance at Laura.

“I have never heard of that,” replied Fukushima, curiously.

“Simply a test of loyalty,” said Jack. “What you have others perform for you. All I ask is that I carry out the task next door. We have been respectful of your culture, now I simply ask that you be respectful of mine. Your men may check the body immediately after, but my belief is that his body should be left in solitude for an hour to allow his spirit to leave peacefully.”

“You believe in spirits?” asked Fukushima skeptically.

“You are asking me to commit murder— is it such a difficult request to grant in return?”

Moments later, Jack found himself in the sauna room with Lee kneeling on the floor in front of him. Jack held a pistol in his hand with one single round. He crouched over Lee from behind, holding the back of his collar with one hand and pointing the pistol at the back of his head with the other. Da Klot and four attendants stood a short distance behind him, all pointing their pistols at Jack, with the exception of one attendant whose pistol had be given to Jack.

Jack whispered in Lee’s ear and said, “I’m not going to kill you. Pretend you are dead and when you get the chance, slip out through the patio door. Police are watching from a room at the resort down below. Run for help and scream when you reach the resort.”

“No!” gasped Lee in panic.

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Jack, slipping an arm around Lee’s throat so his next attempt to speak resulted in a gurgle. Jack used his other arm in a pincer move to cut the flow of blood in Lee’s carotid artery. “Trust me,” Jack whispered. He felt the body slump and knew he would have less than a minute before Lee awoke.

“What are you doing?” asked Da Khlot, moving closer.

Jack spun Lee around, slamming him down on the floor, while sitting on his chest. His body blocked the view of Lee’s upper torso as he smashed his nose with the butt of the pistol before quickly firing a round into the crack made by two adjoining cedar planks on the floor. As he got up, he smeared his hand across Lee’s bloody face.

The attendant who had provided Jack with the pistol approached and looked down at Lee, before speaking in Japanese.

“He says you killed him,” said Da Khlot, bluntly. “Are you finished?”

“Of course,” replied Jack. “Shall we go back and continue our dinner now?”

Jack, followed by Da Khlot and the others, entered the banquet room where one attendant bowed toward Fukushima and spoke in Japanese.

Fukushima looked at Jack in surprise and said, “You actually committed murder! You really would do anything to survive,” he continued, more to himself than to Jack. “I thought you were a man of honour and would stick to your values.”

Da Khlot pointed at Jack and spoke in Japanese. Fukushima smiled and nodded his head knowingly.

“What did he say?” demanded Jack.

“He said that you only pretended to kill him by using a — how did he describe it? — yes, a sleeper strangulation hold on him.”

“Ridiculous!” replied Jack, realizing in the pit of his stomach that his little charade had not fooled Da Khlot in the least. His mind raced … Lee was left alone, maybe he did escape to seek help. He knew Fukushima would have realized that, yet had not countered with any orders to his men. Jack decided to ask. Anything to stall for time. “If what Da Khlot said was really true, why would everyone leave Lee alone where he could escape? I don’t understand —-”

“Escape?” said Fukushima. “I think not —”

The sound of Lee’s cry from the other room interrupted the conversation. Seconds later, he burst into the room, talking rapidly in Japanese to Fukushima while keeping his head bowed.

“Now do you understand?” asked Fukushima, a bemused smile played upon his lips as he looked at Jack. “Lee-san is a man with honour,” he added, once more pointing the tip of his samurai sword in Lee’s direction.

“Lee,” said Jack quietly. “Why didn’t you run?”

Lee did not answer.

Fukushima said, “He honours his family name. Is that not right, Lee-san?”

Lee nodded, but his eyes remained fixed on the floor.

“Honour,” said Fukushima, “is something that you, Corporal Jack Taggart and Constable Laura Secord, know little about.”

Both Jack and Laura stared blankly back at Fukushima. It’s over. He even knows our names.

“Yes, I know,” said Fukushima. “I do have my own sources. I am told that the Japanese police are at the resort. It may interest you to know that they will also detain the van when it arrives, but it will do them no good. The man who is being delivered believes it is to bring a special food order. The police will find nothing to prove anything is wrong.”

“You kill us and they’ll have plenty of evidence,” said Jack.

“Evidence such as this?” asked Fukushima, stepping forward and swinging the samurai sword.

Laura put her hand to her mouth and gasped, emitting a sorrowful cry as Lee’s severed head bounced off the marble table and rolled on the floor. His body fell over in a clump with the heart still beating a gusher of blood out through the neck.

She looked up at Fukushima in a daze as he raised the sword over her head.

I’m next.

39

“You are a coward!” screamed Jack. “You have no honour!”

“It is unfortunate that you have to die,” said Fukushima, looking down at Laura while ignoring Jack. “You are a pretty lady.”

“You will go to jail for this,” she replied bitterly.

Fukushima smiled. “No, you do not understand. I have eight witnesses to say Corporal Taggart went berserk and killed you. It was only after the poor unfortunate Mister Lee tried to intervene and was also killed by Corporal Taggart that one of my men shot him.”

“Is that your way out?” yelled Jack. “You call that honour, killing a defenceless man?” he said, pointing at Lee’s decapitated body. “You would even attack a defenceless woman? Is this the samurai code of honour you profess to admire? You are truly the biggest coward I have ever seen,” he said, spitting in Fukushima’s direction. “If I had a sword you would turn and run like a little boy!”

The tendons in Fukushima’s neck grew taut and his face reddened. “You?” he shouted. “You dare to challenge me to fight to the death with these?” he added, brandishing the sword. “You are a fool!”

“Perhaps, but unlike you, I am not a coward. If I die, it will be with honour.”

Fukushima walked quickly over to Jack and said, “You will die. The both of you.”

Jack saw Fukushima’s arm twitch as he thrust out the samurai sword. He jerked his head back, but not fast enough. Fukushima sliced the end of Jack’s nostril faster than his reflexes could react.

“If I had wanted to take your entire nose off, I would have,” said Fukushima, sneering at Jack, who stood with blood running down across his lips and dripping off his chin.

“As I said,” replied Jack defiantly. “You are very brave against an unarmed man.”

“You know you could not possibly win,” said Fukushima. “If you continue to insult me like this, I might accept your challenge.”

“Are you sure you have the guts for that?”

Fukushima’s red face deepened to a purplish hue and he replied, “I will grant you your dying wish. Your death will be slow as I remove your less vital body parts one at a time. You saw the demonstration I did with the apples.”

“If I were an apple I would be truly afraid,” replied Jack. “It is a little different when you fight man to man. Of course, that is presuming you are a man.”

“Go ahead!” Fukushima yelled. “Get the other sword.”

“Should you die,” said Jack. “I would expect that your men would not kill us. That we would be free to go. It would be the honourable thing to do.”

Fukushima unexpectedly laughed and said, “I will tell my men that if you win the challenge, you are their new boss.”

Jack walked over to where Laura sat and said, “I know you disagree, but we will show them that we have honour. We may die, but they will never forget the courage we displayed.”

Laura swallowed. This is insane … What is he trying to tell me? To disagree? “Committing suicide is not courageous,” she said, with uncertainty. “You are wrong to do this.”

“You do not speak to me in such a manner!” said Jack, sounding angry. “You will show respect! If I lose, you will show respect to Fukushima-san!” he added, while reaching across the table and picking up a bottle of sake. “The Japanese think we have no honour? We will prove them wrong. Fukushima-san and I will bow to each other with respect. We will then retrieve our swords and fight to the death. If I die, it will be with honour. At that time —”

“We will die,” said Laura. She sounded matter-of-fact. It was not a plea for help. It was simply a statement of what she believed.

“Shut up and lower your face when I talk,” ordered Jack harshly.

Laura lowered her eyes as Jack raised the sake bottle high over her head. He looked around the room at everyone’s faces and shook the bottle to emphasize his point, before looking at Laura and saying, “When the battle is over, you will show respect and honour by pouring the winner a drink!”

Laura stared quietly down at the table. She heard Jack’s words, but only now became aware of what Jack would try to do. She slowly lifted her eyes toward Jack and asked. “After, do you want me to take them all out for dinner, too?”

Jack’s eyes revealed his thoughts to Laura. She understands … I wish I could hug her. Instead, he glared and said, “I do not believe it possible under the circumstances, but you could extend the invitation. It would show class. Now stand up! What is important is that you honour and obey my command.”

“Sounds like a wedding vow,” muttered Laura, slowly getting to her feet. “Except you forgot the bit about until death do us part. Or did you?”

Jack solemnly handed Laura the bottle before straightening his kimono and walking out to the middle of the room. Fukushima uttered a command in Japanese and one of the attendants retrieved the other samurai sword from its scabbard and held it with both palms facing up and his arms extended. Fukushima passed his sword to another attendant, who held it in the same fashion.

Fukushima paused to glare at Jack before walking briskly to the centre of the room to stand face to face.

“You have honour,” conceded Fukushima, “but your barbarian tongue will also be taught respect before I let you die.”

Jack stared back in silence before bowing deeply, as did Fukushima.

A quick upward thrust of Jack’s hand and a flash of metal alerted everyone that something was amiss. It takes two seconds for the body to respond to a given stimulus. By then, Fukushima’s terrified scream filled the room, as Jack, using a dinner fork with both outer prongs bent down, pierced his eye socket with the two inner prongs, popping his eyeball out like a plump grape.

Fukushima tried to leap back, but Jack’s other hand held the back of his head as he rotated the fork, before moving and wrapping his arm around Fukushima’s throat from behind, while his other hand positioned the bloody fork close to Fukushima’s other eye.

Laura was the first to react. She had seen Jack take her fork a moment before while the others were looking at the bottle of sake being waved above her head. She now turned and smashed the end of the bottle on the table.

Sayomi’s reflexes responded at this moment, jumping and throwing a side-kick aimed at Jack’s temple. Her mind was focused, blocking out the sound of chaos around her as her body moved to deliver the fatal blow.

It was not until the broken end of a sake bottle rammed deep, twisting into her face that Sayomi’s brain connected the reason why Laura smashed the bottle when Fukushima first screamed.

Sayomi’s kick flailed in the air as she felt Laura’s arm around her throat from behind as they fell to the floor. Laura quickly rolled over on her back, using Sayomi’s body on top of her for cover.

Sayomi struggled and felt the sharp edges of the broken bottle on her mouth and nose. She tried to grab at the bottle with her fingers but Laura twisted it deeper into her already shredded lips and broken teeth.

“Don’t try it, karate girl,” warned Laura. “Or this older woman will show you something you don’t want to learn.”

Da Khlot, along with the others, pointed their guns toward Jack, who was hunched low over Fukushima. Sayomi was not their concern.

“Back off!” yelled Jack, over Fukushima’s screaming, “Or I pop his other eye and ram this fork through his brain!”

Fukushima raised his hand to cup his eyeball dangling from his eye socket.

“Put your hand down,” warned Jack, “or I’ll shish kabob your eyeball and your brain!”

Fukushima lowered his hand and Da Khlot stared at the eyeball dangling and swaying across Fukushima’s cheek. He saw the desperate and determined look on Jack’s face as their eyes met and Jack started to twist the fork into the corner of Fukushima’s remaining eye.

“Okay, stop,” yelled Da Khlot, before turning to the others and shouting a command in Japanese. Some of the men hesitantly lowered their guns, while two didn’t. Da Khlot yelled again and the remaining two immediately obeyed.

“He won’t die from what I’ve done,” said Jack.

“I know that,” replied Da Khlot in a monotone voice. “Let him go and it will be easier on you.”

“Like hell I will!” yelled Jack. “All of you get the fuck out of here! Now! Close the door behind you!”

Da Khlot shook his head so Jack put more pressure on Fukushima’s eye.

“Do what he says!” spluttered Fukushima.

The men quickly filed out of the room as the sound of Sayomi’s crying and babbling became louder.

“Let her go, too, Laura,” said Jack.

Sayomi ran for the door with her bloody hands covering her face.

“Remember,” yelled Laura, “youth, vitality, and speed are no match for wisdom, experience, and treachery!”

Jack, in shock, stared briefly at Laura. Make sure I never piss a woman off about her age.

As soon as the three of them were alone, Jack told Laura to get his phone and call for help.

Laura connected with Rose and yelled, “Help — Jack, behind you!”

Jack spun around and saw he had moved dangerously close to the back wall. Da Khlot’s shadow faded from view on the other side as Jack quickly backed toward the centre of the room.

“Rose, we need help,” yelled Laura. “Tell them we’re in the banquet room. Main level.”

“Leave the phone on, put it on the table, and grab a sword,” said Jack. “Crouch down close to the door. If someone comes in, do what you can to take them down and grab their gun.”

“You are a barbarian,” sputtered Fukushima. “You have no honour.”

“Guess you’re right,” replied Jack.

“You will die!” seethed Fukushima, as his pain was transgressed by rage. “The both of you will die.”

“We all will someday,” replied Jack. “You first, I bet.”

“You are Canadian police officers,” said Fukushima. “You should not even be here.”

“You had Lee murder a Canadian citizen,” replied Jack, “who, for your information, was an honourable man. Gives us plenty of reason.”

“You are here because of him?” replied Fukushima in disbelief. “He was nobody! Why does it matter about him?”

“Nobody?” said Jack harshly. “Do not use that word! He was somebody! Somebody’s son. He was a friend of my wife and was a much better human being than you could ever —-”

The sound of a police siren pierced the air from down the hill, bringing an epiphany of shouts and yelling from outside the banquet room. Shadows from a group of men appeared through the rice-paper walls and doors on the opposite side of the room from where Jack stood hunched over Fukushima.

Da Khlot crouched and waited behind the wall separating him by slightly over an arm’s length from where Jack held Fukushima inside the room. He used his cellphone to whisper an order to his men.

Jack saw the doors slide open a crack and automatically reefed Fukushima backward when he saw a glimpse of a pistol as a man peeked through. Laura crouched to one side, out of sight, holding the samurai sword at the ready.

“Close it!” screamed Jack. “Or fuck-you-shima dies!”

Fukushima felt the two prongs from the fork on the outer corner of his eye socket slide over the last bump of bone as it began to travel inside his eye socket. His command screamed in Japanese caused the doors to slide shut again.

Da Khlot caught a glimmer of Jack’s larger figure draped over Fukushima, but it faded from view again. He could hear the words clearly through the walls as the men argued.

“I want you to know something, Jack Taggart,” said Fukushima. “I gave the command to my men. Whoever fills the honour of killing you will be greatly rewarded. If you do not have the honour to die tonight, you should know that whatever family you have — mother, father, wife, or children — they will be found and take your place.”

“Is that why Lee was so loyal?” asked Jack. “Is that what you call honour and loyalty? You pompous ass! You are not only a disgrace to the Japanese people; you are a disgrace to the human race.”

“Who are you to say that?” replied Fukushima. “A lowly policeman. A servant for the people. You are nobody.”

“I told you not to use that word,” said Jack, angrily.

Da Khlot knew that a bullet in Jack may penetrate through to Fukushima, but he had no such worry about the knife he held in his hand. The only worry was the element of surprise. If Jack would move closer, it would be easy to stab through the rice-paper wall and penetrate the top of the spinal cord, paralyzing Jack before he could react and plunge the fork deep into his master’s brain.

If that opportunity presented itself, he would bust through the wall simultaneously while carrying out the second penetration, plunging the knife into the side of Jack’s neck. He would grab his falling body by the hair with one hand and use his other hand to slash through to the front of Jack’s throat, severing his jugular in an outward motion from behind. Death would be unavoidable and would take place within a few gurgling seconds as he lay on the floor while his brain tried to comprehend.

When the others opened the doors for a peek, Da Khlot almost had that chance. If his men yelled and rattled the doors again, it might give him the opportunity. The police vocally announced their arrival into the main entrance of the building. He had little time.

Da Khlot whispered once more into his cellphone before putting it down. Seconds later, the walls shook from hands slapping and banging on the walls and doors on the far side of the room. Sounds and vibrations made by men running and commands being screamed by the police added to the din.

Da Khlot saw his chance when Jack’s towering shadow came into view, brushing his back against the wall in front of him. He did not give Jack the opportunity to move away. He lunged forward, his knife making a crisp sound as the tip sliced through the rice paper and deep into Jack’s neck.

Da Khot heard the sound of the vertebrae as he twisted the knife before withdrawing it. The head nodded and rolled to one side and the body went limp as Da Khlot smashed through the wall, grabbing Jack by the hair while stabbing deep into the side of his neck and slashing outwards, severing the jugular. His momentum caused all three men to fall to the floor.

Screaming from across the room announced the arrival of a squad of police officers. Da Khlot looked at Jack’s face … awash in blood. It was the first time Da Khlot had truly smiled since he was eleven years old.

He obeyed the police command to drop his knife and stand with his hands in the air. He was not concerned. The Shaman will look after me. Everything would be okay. He is, after all, The Shaman.

It was not until Jack stood up that Da Khlot stepped back in horror. He stared down at The Shaman, who lay gasping and gurgling as his severed jugular sprayed blood onto Da Khlot’s pant legs.

Da Khlot’s brain tried to unscramble the unfathomable. It … it is not possible! The Westerner’s shadow … I saw it. Da Khlot trembled as he stared down at his master, whose twitching lips and one bulging eye expressed a silent terror as he died.

40

It was late the following Friday afternoon when Rose was summoned to Assistant Commissioner Isaac’s office. He waited until she sat comfortably in the chair in front of his desk before asking, “How are Corporal Taggart and Constable Secord doing?”

“Remarkably well, sir, considering the trauma they both went through,” replied Rose. “They took the week off, but both said they would be in on Monday. It seems a little premature to me. Jack also has to schedule some appointments with a cosmetic surgeon in regard to a slice taken out of his nostril.”

“Have they seen the Force psychologist yet?”

“Scheduled for Monday afternoon.”

“He may decide that they’re not ready to return to duty yet.”

Rose smiled to herself and said, “I suspect he will decide whatever Jack wants him to decide. Laura, too, quite likely.”

“Meaning?”

Rose shrugged and said, “Meaning they’re both good operators. They’re good at controlling situations and people to produce the results they want.”

Isaac nodded in agreement and said, “What you said does support a theory I have about what happened leading up to Fukushima’s murder.”

“A theory?” replied Rose. “I have read the report our LO sent from the Japanese police. It seemed pretty thorough to me. One of Fukushima’s bodyguards tried to kill Jack, but instead stabbed his boss to death.”

“Yes, and when the bodyguard made that mistake, Corporal Taggart was present.”

“Jack was not to blame! His presence was just coincidental to the mistake the bodyguard made.”

“Coincidental? Coincidence? Where have I heard those words before?”

“Sir, it was a coincidence. The bodyguard has already confessed to the Japanese police.”

“I am aware of that,” replied Isaac. “Several Japanese police officers actually witnessed the murder as they entered the room. Although they were so appalled and shocked at seeing Lee’s severed head and body, along with Fukushima getting his throat slashed, that I understand they were in a state of confusion as to exactly what was taking place and by who.”

“They did see it, though,” replied Rose. “There was no doubt that the bodyguard murdered Fukushima. He confessed to everything, including giving a detailed account of the murder here.”

“The murder of the homeless person in the park,” said Isaac, nodding his head.

“Sir, his name was Melvin Montgomery,” noted Rose.

Isaac looked curiously at Rose and asked, “Sounds like you have a personal interest?”

“No,” replied Rose. “It just sounds more decent giving him a name.” God, I’m glad Jack isn’t here. He’d never let me forget it.

“I agree,” replied Isaac. “In any event, the Japanese police found a video of Melvin Montgomery’s murder in a safe in one of Fukushima’s estates in Tokyo. It clearly shows Lee as the murderer. They also found a host of other files showing who was being bribed around the world and for how much. It included one of their higher-ranking police officers. They were able to prove it was the same officer who called Fukushima to tell him who Corporal Taggart and Constable Secord really were, and of the impending arrests.”

“The LO told me the Japanese police are very upset,” replied Rose. “Bribery is relatively rare amongst their department. To have a situation develop that nearly cost the lives of two foreigners is extremely embarrassing for them.”

“Yes, I understand they wish to formally apologize to both Corporal Taggart and Constable Secord,” said Isaac. “I have even heard talk that the Japanese ambassador wishes to present them each with a samurai sword as a token of their appreciation.”

“That’s nice to hear, although from a psychological point of view, I’m not sure if the sight of a samurai sword would speed up their recovery.”

“Good point,” mused Isaac.

“However, given the extraordinary circumstances and extreme danger Jack and Laura both faced, it was only through sheer courage and presence of mind that they survived. Naturally, I’ll be recommending them both for Commendation as well.”

Isaac stared at Rose silently for a moment, before leaning forward and saying, “First, perhaps you could ease my mind about something.”

“Sir?”

“It is the circumstances leading up Fukushima’s murder that have me slightly confused,” said Isaac. “Fukushima was a small man, was he not?”

“I guess so,” replied Rose. “Jack was able to control him. Mind you, it takes the fight out of someone to have their eyeball popped out with a fork.”

“Yes, which adds to my theory,” said Isaac. “You are aware that Corporal Taggart used a sleeper hold on Lee earlier to make it look like he was dead?”

“Yes, sir,” sighed Rose. “And I know members have been forbidden to use such holds since an incident years ago where a man died trying to swallow a bundle of heroin while being choked. But what choice did Jack have? Surely you don’t plan to reprimand him over —”

“No, the use of the sleeper hold … on Lee … does not concern me. Can you explain to me why someone of Corporal Taggart’s stature, size, and training, with his arm wrapped around the throat of a small man who had lost his eye, was unable to control him?”

“I don’t understand what you mean,” said Rose. “He did control him up until the bodyguard smashed through the wall and stabbed him in the fracas that followed.”

“Yes, and according to the eyewitness reports,” continued Isaac, “at that time Corporal Taggart was no longer holding Fukushima from behind. He was crouched in front of him and holding him up high by the front of his kimono. One police officer even thought Fukushima may have been unconscious at the time, but opened his remaining good eye when he was stabbed.”

Rose stared silently as her brain replayed the scenario of what she now realized had happened.

“The Japanese police did not figure it out,” said Isaac, “although they should have, with the other clues they were left with.”

“Other clues, sir?”

“They found the results of a polygraph test that Corporal Taggart took. They are extremely impressed with his ability to deceive the polygraph operator who worked for Fukushima. Particularly where he convinced the polygraph operator that he had lied to the police, hidden the body of a murder victim, and … let’s see … what were the exact words … yes, fooled the polygraph operator into believing he had ‘orchestrated or committed murder.’”

“Sounds like he owes our polygraph operator a debt of gratitude prepping him enough to save his butt,” replied Rose. “I’ll tell him he should buy Larry Killaly a drink.”

“Is that what you believe saved him?” asked Isaac.

Rose paused, wondering how to respond.

“Exactly. Glad to see you decided not to lie to me.” Isaac leaned forward, lowering his voice and said, “You know Corporal Taggart’s history. Could he have really been telling the truth?”

“Fukushima was an extremely dangerous man,” said Rose, quietly. “Statements indicate he not only threatened Jack and Laura, but their families, as well.”

“I am aware of that,” sighed Isaac. “So I have a proposition. How would it be if I keep my suspicions to myself and you forget about recommending them for Commendation?”

A tiny smile crossed Rose’s lips and she said, “Agreed. Knowing Jack and Laura, they aren’t the type who would care.”

“Good, I would have great difficulty in presenting it to him and pretending to be a fool.”

As Rose stood to leave she said, “Sir, the Japanese police said Fukushima had an army of over fifteen thousand strong scattered around the globe. If you were in the same circumstances as Jack and you heard the threats Fukushima made regarding your family, what would you have done to save yourself or your loved ones?”

“I certainly wouldn’t do what you are suggesting,” replied Isaac.

“Sir?”

“Forget about telling Corporal Taggart to buy our polygraph operator a drink. Larry Killaly doesn’t drink.”

Rose grinned all the way back to her office.

Jack caught the shimmering reflection of the candlelight in Natasha’s eyes as she glanced up and smiled at him from where she sat at their dining-room table. She savoured the last mouthful of peach flambé that Jack had made for dessert, then reached over and held his hand.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I’m not okay,” replied Jack. “I’m great. I love you so much.”

“I think you’re great, too.”

“And?” said Jack.

Natasha smiled and said, “And I love you, too.” She gestured to the open patio doors and said, “A full moon tonight. You know what that’s good for?”

“Howling?”

“You are such a beast. No, it’s good for making babies.”

“I thought a full moon was when hospitals were busy delivering babies, not placing the orders.”

“I’m a doctor. Are you questioning me?”

“No.”

Natasha leaned forward to blow out the candle but stopped. She stared at the faded plastic rose in the crystal vase in the centre of the table and then picked it up, turning it slowly in her fingers. “Maybe we should call our first son Melvin.”

“I was leaning toward Mike or Steve,” replied Jack, “if it’s a girl, I love Brenda.”

“Maybe you’re right. Melvin was one of a kind. He was a real somebody.”

Epilogue

Criminal conduct by informants has often been a cause for serious debate. If criminals could eliminate informants from their midst by testing them to commit a criminal act, or by their refusal to commit such criminal acts as they had prior to being an informant, then criminal organizations would seldom be penetrated.

In September 2006, defence lawyers argued in a British Columbia Supreme Court that the conduct of an RCMP informant by breaking the law constituted an abuse of process. On March 16, 2007, the RCMP won a significant victory in British Columbia Supreme Court when it was ruled that the illegal conduct of a million-dollar police agent did not violate the rights of the accused.

Unfortunately, in British Columbia, on average, criminals committing the same acts and who share a similar criminal history receive a sentence that is approximately three times lower than they would elsewhere in Canada. British Columbia continues to remain a favoured location for criminals to operate from, or, if apprehended in another province, an ideal location to move to for the purpose of pleading guilty in a British Columbia court.

There is a Commission for Public Complaints (CPC) created by Parliament to ensure that complaints made by the public about the conduct of members of the RCMP are examined fairly and impartially. The CPC is not part of the RCMP. The CPC make findings and recommendations aimed at correcting and preventing recurring policing problems. The CPC’s goal is to promote excellence in policing through accountability.

The CPC is a vital part of our democracy. It would greatly benefit society if our judiciary would face the same type of accountability on a national level.

Chapter One

It was early afternoon when Gabriel Parsons glanced out the window of her front door. It was the last Thursday in January and although the snow that fell on Burnaby in December was gone, the weather was still cold and wet. She turned and smiled knowingly at her visitor who was putting on her shoes to leave.

Gabriel had been running a daycare out of her home for three years and she was familiar with the worried look of young mothers who were leaving their toddlers behind for the first time. Cecilia, like the others, procrastinated the closer she got to the front door. When Gabriel’s husband died in a logging accident three years prior, leaving her with two children, she felt like God had forsaken her. Her son, Noah, was only ten years old at the time and Faith was one and a half.

Gabriel’s frequent trips to church brought her comfort and eventually her prayers appeared to be answered, at least in a financial sense. Her two-storey house was forty years old, but relatively sound and had a full basement. At first she thought about selling, but Noah did not like the idea. Faith was too young to understand, but Noah was devastated over the loss of his dad. The home was something he still clung to, so Gabriel relented and decided to use the house to aid her financial situation.

She rented out the basement to two young men who ran a janitorial supply service. At first she was nervous about dealing with renters, but her fears were soon put to rest. They were polite, always paid the rent on time, and gave her free cleaning supplies.

Her church also brought unexpected support. Father Brown, who was retiring at the time, became a boarder and moved into a spare bedroom on the upper floor at the back of her home. He happily volunteered to babysit while Gabriel tried to find work.

Gabriel smiled as she paused to consider how the quality of her life was improving. Initially she found temporary shift-work as a short-order cook, but felt guilty using Father Brown to babysit when he refused to accept anything in return. Father Brown noted her love for children and came up with the idea of opening a daycare. It was the perfect solution.

Gabriel’s thoughts returned to the present as Cecilia prepared to leave. Gabriel gestured to Cecilia’s jacket and said, “It’s raining. Zip up before you —” She caught herself and stopped. “I’m sorry,” she added, feeling embarrassed. “I’m so used to looking after children I sometimes forget and try to mother their parents, too.”

A pert grin flashed across Cecilia’s mouth as she zipped up her jacket. “It’s okay,” she replied. “I knew as soon as I met you that you’re the motherly type, which suits me fine.”

Gabriel didn’t reply, unsure of whether Cecilia was talking to her or simply uttering her thoughts out loud.

Cecilia took a deep breath as she looked around. The home was spotless. She gave Gabriel a warm smile and said, “When we first arrived, I commented to Emily about all the beautiful plants and bushes you have around your house. When you invited us in, I thought your home smelled cleaner than a hospital. Seeing how happy the children are … well, I know I’ve found the perfect daycare.”

Gabriel’s home did look picturesque. Tomorrow would be different. Rolls of yellow crime-scene tape left by the police would surround the entire property.

Gabriel glanced at the crucifix hanging on the wall at the entrance to her home. For a few seconds she did not hear the rambunctious voices of the three pre-schoolers playing in the living room. Instead, she felt at peace. A friend once told her that she was kind to a fault. Gabriel didn’t mind. She preferred to be that way. Her motto was: Do good unto others and they … well, for Gabriel, her naïveté was about to change. Murder has a way of doing that.

“I meant to tell you,” Cecilia continued, “that those pecan cookies you made were perfectly scrumptious!”

Gabriel gave a broad smile. She was forty-three years old, but had been cooking since she was a youngster. She also liked to eat what she cooked, as was evidenced by her wide girth and triple chins. “You can take some with you, if you like,” she offered.

“No, thanks, I need to watch my … uh, sugar intake.”

“Afraid you’ll end up like me?” replied Gabriel, making a pretext of eyeing Cecilia suspiciously.

“No!” replied Cecilia abruptly. Too abruptly. “I … uh, you look good,” she added, trying to sound sincere.

“Really?” replied Gabriel. Her voice was perpetually raspy, giving an impression of gruffness, but the merriment on her chubby, cherubic face said otherwise. “Its okay,” she continued matter-of-factly as her smile revealed she had been teasing. “I know what I look like. I don’t care. There are no men in my life now.” She shrugged and glanced at the children and saying, “But there’s lots of love, I can tell you that.”

“I know,” replied Cecilia warmly. “I could feel it as soon as we arrived.”

The two women stared at each other briefly, both lost in their own thoughts.

Cecilia was the first to break the silence. “I’ll be back at four-thirty to pick her up and see how she does. If everything goes okay, I’ll drop her off Monday morning on my way to work.”

“Everything will go okay,” Gabriel assured her. “She looks darling … and is already playing with the other children. Father Brown and I will take good care of her.”

A bemused smile played across Cecilia’s lips as she watched Father Brown, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor amongst a pile of toys, nonchalantly allowing a four-year-old boy by the name of Jerry to use Father Brown’s arm, neck, and head as a roadway for a toy car.

Cecilia’s smile vanished and she appeared wistful as she turned her attention to Emily, who was playing on a plastic slide. The two boys had accepted their new playmate. There was a lot of noise as all three children enthusiastically tested the durability and limits of the plastic playhouse and toys in the room. It was a happy noise, she decided.

“You’ve already hugged her and said goodbye,” said Gabriel softly. “Now might be a good time to slip away.”

“Okay,” replied Cecilia in a whisper. “You have my cellphone number … if there is any problem … if she doesn’t behave, just —”

“Don’t worry,” said Gabriel, giving her a reassuring pat on her back. “Emily is in good hands.”

Cecilia nodded and said, “Sorry, I know I’m worrying needlessly. It’s just that she’s — I’ve never left her alone before. She’s only three.”

“Worrying is what us moms do,” replied Gabriel. “You never get over it, no matter how old they get.”

Cecilia nodded and, after glancing at Emily one more time, she left.

Gabriel was pleased to be getting another child to babysit. Ostensibly she did it for the money, but even if she was rich, she would still want to do it. Before her husband died, they had talked about having at least six children. Now Noah was thirteen years old and occupied with school. Today, Faith remained in bed, complaining of a sore throat, but at four years of age, she would soon be in school as well.

Gabriel sighed as she thought about it. Some days she wished her children could have remained toddlers.

Her thoughts were interrupted when Jerry shrieked in protest as Father Brown picked up a toy tiger. The toy was for everyone, but Jerry was possessive. His shriek gave way to giggles as Father Brown pretended to attack him with the tiger.

Father Brown was a tall, thin man with a horseshoe pattern of grey hair on his head. He never cared for bifocals and instead tended to wear reading glasses that sat low on the bridge of his nose while his eyes peered out from above. His eyes tended to be watery, but twinkled with delight at Jerry’s giggles.

“Okay, Father Brown,” said Gabriel, in mock admonishment, “remember to share the toys with the other children.”

He raised his eyes in her direction and smiled, before relinquishing the toy to Jerry who retreated with it to a playhouse.

Emily, who had been watching Father Brown, approached him and with one finger, pointed at a grape-sized red birthmark on the center of Father Brown’s forehead.

“Boo-boo,” said Emily, softly.

“Not a boo-boo,” replied Father Brown. “It’s an angel’s kiss,” he said lightly.

Emily stared intently for a moment before leaning forward and kissing Father Brown on his forehead. “Better now,” she said matter-of-factly, before turning her attention back to the plastic slide.

Her unexpected kiss caused Father Brown to lean back abruptly. He looked up at Gabriel and said, “The new member of the flock isn’t shy, is she?”

“You have a way with children,” replied Gabriel.

“Apparently I do,” he said. A smile flittered across his face, but he became sombre as he reflected on an incident from the previous night.

“Something wrong, Father?” asked Gabriel.

Father Brown frowned. “I have a way with children, but these children are not lost souls. If only I could find a way with the new arrivals God is sending our way. The ones who keep taking up residence in our backyard,” he lamented.

“Again?” asked Gabriel.

Two months ago a nearby liquor store opened for business at eight-thirty in the morning. Their clientele consisted of the down and out. People who had given up all hope and used the bottle to obliterate their thoughts. They tended to frequent an empty lot not far from Gabriel’s house, but in the wet weather, some had taken to seeking refuge under a grove of large cedar trees in her back yard.

“You weren’t woken last night?” asked Father Brown.

Gabriel shook her head and said, “I thought that yard light you put up would stop them.”

Father Brown shrugged and said, “I think it is helping, but not everyone cares if the world sees them. An unfortunate soul stumbled into the garbage cans after you went to bed. I feared he would wake the whole neighbourhood up. I went out and asked him to leave. He did.”

“I’m sorry,” said Gabriel.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Maybe we should be calling the police.”

“Incarceration isn’t the answer. Give me time. I’m still working on the proposal to gather support for a new shelter. Besides, I was awake, reading the scripture.” He paused for a moment, gave a small grin, and added, “However, it would not be good for business if a mom came by with her precious one and saw a man passed out in your yard.”

Gabriel looked heavenward and replied, “I don’t even want to imagine what that would do for business.”

“Mommy,” cried Faith from her room.

Gabriel glanced at Father Brown. “Go,” he said, “I’ll attend the flock.”

Gabriel walked into Faith’s room and saw her stumble while getting out of bed.

“You not awake yet, sweetie,” said Gabriel.

“My neck hurts,” whimpered Faith, rubbing her neck.

Gabriel sat on the bed and placed Faith on her lap. She felt her neck and detected a lump. “You had your mumps vaccination last week,” said Gabriel. “Maybe you’re having a small reaction. How about you come out and play with the others? There’s a new little girl here to play with. Her name is Emily. I’ll give you all some ice cream.”

It was eleven o’clock at night and Father Brown reached to turn his bedroom light out when he heard the sound of breaking glass arise from the back of the house. He peered out the back window and saw an arc of light shine out from the basement door. The breaking glass had come from the renters in the basement. He was about to return to the comfort of his bed when he saw a man stagger out from under the cedar tree closest to the house. The man stood for a moment, looking about, before heading to a cedar tree that was farther away.

Father Brown muttered to himself as he put on his slippers and wrapped a bathrobe over his flannel pajamas before going outside. He passed by the cement steps leading down below ground level to the basement door. The door was wide open and Father Brown could hear the heated voice of one of the renters admonishing the other one for being clumsy. A portable fan was humming away at the door in an effort to clear a strong acidic odour.

Father Brown realized it was the fumes that had aroused the derelict and caused him to retreat to the tree farthest away. He was now sitting on the ground with his back against the trunk of the tree. He stared drunkenly up as Father Brown approached.

Father Brown took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He gave the derelict a friendly smile before crouching down to talk to him face to face. He wondered briefly if the acidic smell emitting from the basement could be any worse than the putrid smell of stale wine coming from the man’s breath.

“Sir, we run a daycare here … young children. Your presence could frighten them. I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”

The man stared silently for several seconds as his brain slowly processed the data. Eventually he mumbled something and stood, swaying on his feet. He stared at Father Brown for longer than was polite, as was the way of inebriated people.

Father Brown gently guided the man down the driveway to the back lane, but stopped as headlights appeared at one end of the alley.

“It’s slowing down and parking,” noted Father Brown. “It’s safe for you to go. God be with you.” He let go of the man’s arm and watched as the man turned toward the lane.

As Father Brown walked back to the house, voices and shadows from the basement caught his attention. The voices were not loud, but someone was angry.

“You fuckin’ idiot,” seethed a voice. “We’ll never get it done in time.”

“It wasn’t like I did it on purpose,” replied the other renter. “Cocktail is supposed to drop by. Let’s see what he says.”

“Cocktail will be pissed at us for cooking outside the room. He won’t help. More likely he will rat us out. What do you think the bikers will say when we only deliver half the meth? They’ll kick our asses!”

Father Brown let out a small gasp. Did he say meth? Lord no — He stepped onto the lawn, knowing his footsteps would not be heard as he crept up to the basement stairwell. The yard light illuminated him from behind, so he crouched down to minimize his shadow on the house, while straining to listen over the noise of the fan. He knew he could scoot away unseen around the side of the house if either renter approached the basement door.

“Calm down. It was an accident,” a voice from the basement pleaded.

“Calm down! Fuck you, calm down.”

“It was me who dropped it.”

“You think Satans Wrath will understand? They’ll kick the shit out of us. We’ll be lucky if we don’t end up like Harvey.”

Father Brown sadly realized his fears were true. Gabriel will be upset, but the police will have to be —

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw a shadow loom large on the back of the house in front of him. He spun on his heels and stared wide-eyed at the silhouette of a man who stood over him. The man was holding a cement construction brick high in the air with both hands.

Time slowed down for Father Brown. His jaw slackened and his mouth hung open in fear. He locked eyes with the man for what seemed like an eternity, but remained silently transfixed, as if resigned to his fate. He saw the first downward arc of the brick and his brain registered the sound of crunching bone.

Seconds later, Father Brown’s body, now prone on the grass, received six more blows to the head. The brick dispensed a rivulet of blood up the perpetrator’s chest and face with each upward motion. Other arcs of blood splashed high onto the back of the house. Upon impact the brick sprayed more blood in all directions. The added blows were not necessary. Father Brown was dead from the first blow before his body even crumpled to the grass.

It was what happened to Father Brown’s body next that revealed the real danger to Gabriel, Noah, and Faith as they slept upstairs in their beds.

Chapter Two

It was nine o’clock in the morning when Corporal Connie Crane, from the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team, arrived at Gabriel’s home and parked. She was the first member of I-HIT to arrive, but six uniformed Royal Canadian Mounted Police officers were at the house.

As Connie stepped from her car, a young woman started her car and pulled out with tires screeching, causing Connie to step back.

“Hey!” yelled Connie. “Did you see that?” she asked, turning to a Mountie who was standing near the front gate.

“I saw,” replied the Mountie, “but under the circumstances, I —”

“She even had a little kid in the car,” interrupted Connie.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied. “Her kid was one of the kids in the daycare here,” he added, gesturing with his thumb toward the house. “You’re Connie Crane from I-HIT, right?”

“We’ve met?” asked Connie. Her anger dissolved when she understood the young woman’s instinct to protect her child and leave in haste.

“Didn’t meet,” continued the Mountie, “but I saw you at a murder of some guy in Coquitlam River Park last year. As I recall, you had a partner by the name of Dallas. A blood-splatter expert. You’ll need him here.”

“He’s on his way. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you.”

“We all look alike in uniform,” he smiled. “My boss is out back. He can fill you in.”

Connie went to the back of the property and recognized a sergeant sitting in a patrol car in the rear alley. He motioned for her to join him.

“Hi, Bert. What have we got?” asked Connie, as her eyes scanned the lane. She was glad to see that yellow crime-scene tape had already cordoned off the alley.

“What do you mean … we?” smiled Bert. “This one is a homicide for you.”

“You seem definite.”

“You could try to write it off as suicide, but it won’t be easy,” said Bert, with a hint of sarcasm. “Bludgeon your brains out in the back yard with a concrete brick, after which you drag yourself down a set of stairs into a basement suite and lock the door behind you. Oh, yeah, the brick is also in the basement.”

“Guess we — I can rule out suicide,” replied Connie.

“Where are the rest of the troops?” asked Bert. “Thought they would be here by now.”

“They’ll be tied up for another couple of hours. There was another gang hit this morning.”

“Another goddamned gang hit? I didn’t even hear about it.”

“Too many now to get much news coverage,” replied Connie. “So in the mean time, what can you tell me about this vic?” asked, Connie, with a nod toward the house.”

“No gang member, that’s for sure. A retired priest. Living —”

“A retired priest?” reiterated Connie, unconsciously fondling the gold crucifix dangling from her neck inside her blouse.

“Yeah. He was rooming and boarding here. The owner, Gabriel Parsons, is a widow and lives here with her two children. She also runs a small daycare out of the house. Only three or four kids at a time. I talked to her briefly, but decided to leave the real interview to you.”

“How did the call come in?”

“Gabriel said she was taking the garbage out at about seven-thirty and the first thing she noticed was a missing concrete brick out of the row of bricks lining her driveway. She turned and saw the sprays of blood up the back of her house. She dropped the garbage and headed back to her house. Along the way she saw the pool of blood and brain matter beside the basement stairwell. She ran back in the house and knocked on Father Brown’s door to tell him. When he didn’t answer she called 911. First member on the scene tried a key that Gabriel gave him for the basement door, but the lock had been changed. He kicked open the door and saw the body inside with a pulverized head. He didn’t go in, so your crime scene is intact.”

“Positive it’s the priest?” asked Connie.

“Wearing pajamas and a blue silk bathrobe with a dragon. Gabriel said it was his.”

“Did Gabriel look at the body? What was her response?”

“No. She waited at the top of the stairs. Started crying and broke into hysterics when she realized who the vic was. She’s not crying now … probably gone into shock.”

“What prompted the priest to go outside dressed like that?” mused Connie.

“Gabriel said they’ve had a problem with winos sleeping under the cedars in her yard. Father Brown used to roust them on occasion.”

“You thinking it was robbery? Doesn’t make sense if he was wearing a bathrobe.”

“I’ve got more. Gabriel rented the basement out about a year and a half ago to a guy who owns a janitorial company. She copied down his driver’s license. The name given was a Bob Rimmer. I checked it out. The name, address, and driver’s license number are all bogus.”

“Son of a bitch.”

“Gabriel says Rimmer … or whoever he is, wasn’t around much. He told her he owned the company, but two other guys by the names of Joe and John were the ones who were always coming and going. She never knew their last names, but thinks she could identify them. Joe is around thirty, slim, with short red hair. John is a little younger, muscular build, and a shaved head. She barely remembers Rimmer, but, as she recalls, he was around forty with collar-length dark hair. She says everyone tended to work nights and she seldom saw them.”

“Joe and John gotta be bogus, as well. No matter, we should be able to get prints.”

“That could be a problem. The place reeks of bleach. I think it’s been wiped down. Whoever the renters were, they don’t want to be found.”

“Wonderful,” muttered Connie.

“Maybe outstanding warrants on them,” offered Bert.

“Could be. Maybe the priest found out and they whacked him.”

“Possible,” agreed Bert. “We didn’t go in, but from what we did see, it looks like the basement suite has been cleaned out.

“Vehicles?”

“Joe and John drove a plain white van. No company logo. She can’t remember what Rimmer drove. Guess he usually parked in the alley someplace.”

“Figures,” muttered Connie.

“There is one thing. They might be bikers, or maybe associated to bikers.”

“They look like bikers?”

“No. She said the three of them looked real straight, but when they were first moving in, some biker-looking guy on a hog pulled into the yard. Gabriel said she heard Rimmer tell him in no uncertain terms to leave and never bring the bike around here again.”

“Did she ask Rimmer why?”

“She presumed he knew the noise would bother the neighbours.”

“Where’s Gabriel?”

“Inside waiting for the last mom to arrive and take the remaining daycare kid away.”

“I’ll need a statement from her. You said she is in shock. Do you think she is up to —”

“I don’t know. I guess she’s holding it together. I think she has to for the moment. Besides still babysitting, she’s got her own kids in the house. A four-year-old girl and a thirteen-year-old boy that she kept home from school.”

“This has gotta be tough on her.”

“At least she didn’t see the body.”

How about the pool of blood, bone, and brain matter on the lawn? She won’t forget about that. Holding it together … for how long? Still in shock — wait ’til it sinks in.

“You know any members that have a handle on the biker situation?” asked Bert.

Connie stared briefly at Bert as she collected her thoughts before lolling her head back and rolling her eyes. “Oh, crap,” she whispered aloud. “That would be Jack.”

Corporal Jack Taggart worked in and Intelligence Unit of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Vancouver. The unit specialized in organized crime. Jack knew a lot about bikers and in particular, Satans Wrath, who were world-renowned for having clawed their way to the upper echelon of organized crime families on the planet.

Connie Crane had past murder investigations where Jack, uninvited and against Connie’s objections, had interfered. The problem, in Connie’s opinion, was that Jack took certain investigations too personally. Mind you, some were personal, thought Connie, as she reflected back. Bad guys with any smarts should have known better than to mess with a cop’s family … especially Jack’s. Guess the ones who did were not smart. Not smart enough to know they would end up being corpses.

Connie could understand bending the rules when bad guys crossed certain barriers, but with Jack, there was more to it. Both Jack and his partner, Constable Laura Secord, had received special training as undercover operatives. They were considered two of the best operatives in the RCMP. Connie had never worked undercover, but she had learned a little about Jack’s personality from past investigations. She also knew Laura, and saw her personality change when she was assigned as Jack’s partner.

What the brass did not seem to understand, Connie had decided, was that the real undercover training took place on the street. A place where survival becomes much more personal and where your methods of survival become more honed and deadly the longer you do the work. Jack had been surviving for a long, long time. The same couldn’t be said for those he worked on. Many ended up in the morgue rather than court. Some said Jack’s involvement was only coincidental to the growing body count. Connie knew better.

Connie thought about some of her past cases with Jack. Some criminals became his informants … or had they become his friends? Some good guys we thought were friends had become criminals. Through it all, Jack continues to weave and twist his way in pursuit of justice. His justice … which has no resemblance to the law he was sworn to uphold.

“You okay?” asked Bert. “Who’s Jack?”

Connie slowly shook her head in response and sighed as she reached for her BlackBerry. Past investigations with Jack saw me investigating more murders than I started with. God, I hope this time will be different … I wonder if he is religious?

Corporal Jack Taggart leaned back in his office chair as he talked on his BlackBerry to a friend. His desk and Constable Laura Secord’s desk butted up to one other in an office designed for one desk and one filing cabinet. They had a dozen filing cabinets.

Jack’s friend was a woman by the name of Ngoc Bích. She was brought to Canada by a smuggling ring on the pretext of working in the hotel industry. Upon arrival she was forced into prostitution. Jack had befriended her and convinced her to give evidence. Now Ngoc Bích was a nanny to another friend of Jack’s. She was also taking music and learning to play the flute.

Many of the perpetrators associated to the smuggling ring had either been convicted or were dead. Two Vietnamese brothers, both considered ringleaders, were still free, pending trial.

Ngoc Bích explained to Jack that she had shown up for court at ten o’clock, but the two accused didn’t appear and the witnesses were excused. Warrants were issued, but Ngoc Bích later heard from the prosecutor who said that after the witnesses left, the defence lawyer appeared before the judge to say he had spoken with his clients and learned they had made a mistake and thought the court case was scheduled for the afternoon. The warrants were quashed and a new trial would be scheduled at a later date.

“I didn’t sleep last night,” lamented Ngoc Bích. “I really wanted this to be over. To see their faces when they are sent to jail for what they did to me and the others.”

“I know. Me, too,” said Jack. “I wish I could have been there with you, but I don’t want the bad guys to see me and realize who I really am.”

“I understand,” said Ngoc Bích. “It’s okay. I’m not alone. Another woman is testifying, too. She is also angry that the trial did not go ahead. I guess we’ll have to wait a little while —”

“Hang on a second,” said Jack as the phone on his desk rang. Laura took the call and as he wrapped up his conversation with Ngoc Bích, he could overhear Laura’s cheery voice.

“No, I think Jack’s an atheist,” said Laura. “Me? I’m undecided. If I say I’m an atheist I’m afraid I’ll never get any holidays … hang on, Connie … Jack, you still an atheist?” asked Laura as Jack put his BlackBerry away.

“Yes, God made me one,” replied Jack.

“Yup, a heathen through and through,” replied Laura into the phone. She paused and added, “Why is that a relief? … Oh, you’re kidding. Better speak to Jack. He knows more about them than I do.”

Jack listened quietly as Connie quickly told him what she knew about the murder.

“Offhand,” replied Jack. “I’m not aware of any full-patch members of Satans Wrath who operate a janitorial service, but I wouldn’t be surprised. It would suit their MO to have such a company. They would use associates who don’t have criminal records. Especially if they could get contracts in sensitive areas.”

“Like police stations,” suggested Connie.

“Or Motor Vehicle Branches, airports, Social Services … any place to help them gather intelligence or gain entry to secure areas.”

“You’re thinking associates without records — so people you won’t have photos of.”

“I didn’t say that,” said Jack, chuckling. “I’ve got about a thousand pictures stored in a laptop. I’ve never been shy about keeping files on people who are even remotely connected.”

“That would be you,” said Connie. “Civil liberties be damned.”

“You want photos but are accusing me of breaching civil liberties?” replied Jack, quietly.

Connie was silent for a moment, before saying, “Sorry. I didn’t really mean that. It just came out. Guess I have a bit of an attitude with how you do things.”

“With how I do things? What would ever prompt you to —”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t even start.”

“Start what?”

“Well, I could go down a list, but I’ve seen and heard your act before.”

“My act?”

“Yeah. The old show surprise, act concerned, deny, deny, deny routine.”

Jack grinned to himself, but didn’t respond.

“Don’t know how some people can be so gullible around you. You better pray I never get transferred to Internal. I’d nail your ass in a minute.”

“I don’t pray. I’m an atheist, remember?”

“Good. Means you can be objective about this one.”

“Can’t say I’m partial to people who murder our senior citizens …”

“Jack —”

“I’m teasing. Do you want me to meet you at your office and show Gabriel the pictures?”

“She’s running a daycare, plus she has her own two children. One of them is a little girl who is sick in bed. Could you could bring the pictures over here?”

“We’ll be there in twenty minutes,” replied Jack. “But to make it clear,” he said, giving a wink to Laura, “it is you, the renowned Corporal Connie Crane who is asking Laura and I to assist. You are not going to accuse us of butting in? You’re really asking … well, I’d say … begging for our help?”

“Just bring the goddamned pictures,” replied Connie gruffly. Her brusque tone was not genuine and she smiled when she hung up. At least this is one case that’s not personal for him …

When Connie realized she had started to fondle the crucifix around her neck again, it gave her cause to remind herself to retain her own objectivity and professionalism. Her thoughts returned to the case. What degenerate monster would murder a defenceless old man? A retired priest yet … whoever you are, rest assured, I will track you down, you son of a bitch!

“You okay?” asked Bert.

“Oh, yeah,” replied Connie, with determination. “I’m on top of my game with this one,” she added, while opening the car door.

“You going inside for a look?”

Connie paused to read an incoming text on her BlackBerry from the Forensic Identification Section. She looked at Bert and said, “That was FIS. They’ll be here in thirty minutes. I’m going to take a look at what we’ve got. Send them my way when they arrive.”

Connie stopped near the top of the stairs leading to the basement and stared at the dark stain in the lawn and the blood splatters on the back of the house. A large pinkish puddle had collected on the cement pad in front of the basement door. Odd … the murder took place outside … should be a bloody trail leading down the steps to where the body was dragged to get it out of sight … The smell of bleach reached her nose to answer her question. Bastards! They poured bleach on the steps on their way out to obliterate any footprints that would normally have been left in the blood. Whoever did this is calculating … not the type to panic. Professional …

Connie’s thoughts were about collecting physical evidence and figuring out what happened. She was wrong in her belief that the basement had been rented to a couple of men who were janitors. The idea of tripping a booby trap with a bomb never crossed her mind as she pushed open the basement door and stepped inside.

Chapter Three

Jack and Laura arrived at Gabriel’s house as Gabriel stood on the sidewalk, apologizing to a mother who was strapping her child into a car seat.

Jack and Laura spoke to a uniformed Mountie who told them that Connie was around back and had gone into the basement suite. Jack watched Gabriel say goodbye and stood waiting to meet her. By the frightened look on the mother’s face, Jack had little doubt that she would never bring her child back again.

Gabriel did not look frightened. Her eyes were puffy with streaks of mascara on her cheeks and blotchy red patches on her face and neck. She was too grief-stricken to be afraid. When she started to return to the house, Jack and Laura introduced themselves.

“We would like you to look at some pictures for us,” said Laura, gesturing to the laptop she was holding. “We are sorry to have to ask you to do this now, but time could be of the essence.”

Gabriel turned as a young girl wearing pajamas came out the front door and stood at the top of the steps. “Faith! Go back in the house,” yelled Gabriel.

“I want to see,” wined Faith.

“No —” Gabriel stopped as Noah came out and put his arm around Faith’s shoulders to guide her back into the house.

Faith protested, but gave in to her big brother and both children disappeared inside.

“I’m sorry,” said Gabriel, turning back to Jack. “Could we do this at my kitchen table?”

“That would work better,” said Jack. “Give us a couple of minutes to talk with one of the investigators and we’ll be right in.”

“I can’t believe this happened,” said Gabriel tearfully as they walked toward the house. “They seemed like such nice men.”

“They told you they were janitors?” questioned Jack.

“Well, sort of,” she replied, while heading up the steps. “They were more to do with supplying the right chemicals to other janitorial services who did the actual cleaning.”

“I’ll talk to you later. I need to talk to the lead investigator immediately,” replied Jack abruptly as he turned and headed toward the rear of the house. Laura excused herself to Gabriel and hurried to keep up with him.

“Don’t like the sound of that,” muttered Jack.

“The chemical bit?” asked Laura. “You’re thinking — not in a daycare! They wouldn’t!”

Jack pointed to a row of rhododendron bushes planted alongside the house. They looked healthy, except for two plants in the center with leaves that were blackened and curled as if burned. “Look at that,” said Jack. “They would and they did.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Laura. “Maybe —”

“Connie!” screamed Jack, breaking into a run. “Anybody in the basement, don’t move!” He rounded the corner to the backyard within seconds.

“Hi, Jack,” said Connie, peering out from the basement door. “What the hell are you yelling about?”

“You don’t smell anything in there?” asked Jack, looking down at her from the top of the basement stairs.

“Careful you don’t step on anything,” cautioned Connie. She looked puzzled and said, “Smell anything? Well, yeah. The whole place stinks of bleach or something. The assholes used it to obliterate their tracks. Noticed it when I first came in, but most of the smell is gone now.”

“Like hell the smell is gone,” replied Jack. “The fumes erase your sense of smell. Not to mention, killing plants.”

“I don’t understand. Why were you yelling at me not to move?”

“Connie, you’re standing in a bloody meth lab,” replied Jack. “I’m sure of it. If not meth, then something else as bad. A lot of these places are booby-trapped.”

“Booby-traps? … Christ, I don’t think so. I’ve already been through it. The place has been cleaned out. But it is bloody, I’ll say that much. You can come in and see … but be careful.”

“If I’m careful,” replied Jack. He turned to Laura and said, “Wait out here.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” she replied.

The smell of chemicals assaulted Jack’s nostrils as soon as he entered. Within seconds he couldn’t smell anything as his sensory organs became temporarily incapacitated. He looked at the diluted trail of blood leading to the prone figure on the floor. The victim’s face had been literally pulverized. His silk bathrobe was halfway up his chest from being dragged inside by the ankles. A gold crucifix on a chain from his neck was resting on the floor above his head, with the chain held in place by his chin and ears.

“Wearing a bathrobe?” questioned Jack.

“They had trouble with winos sleeping under the trees in their backyard at night. Maybe he heard something and went out thinking he was rousting a wino and caught these guys instead.”

“I’d say they caught him,” replied Jack. “Nothing left of his face. Whoever did him must have a hell of a temper.”

“The perp had to be doused in blood,” commented Connie. “I’m not the blood-splatter expert, but if you noticed the splashes up the back of the house, I bet he was whacked at least half a dozen times.” She gestured to a cement construction brick lying in a puddle of bleach nearby and added, “It was nice of them to leave the murder weapon behind.”

“Wasn’t so nice that they poured bleach over it afterward,” noted Jack. “Anything in here to give us a clue who they were?”

“Not that I could see, but take a look and be my guest,” replied Connie.

“A quick look,” replied Jack. “We shouldn’t be poking around in here without wearing hazmat suits. Let’s make this quick and get out.”

Jack saw a clean, square patch on the outside of a door leading to a separate room. Connie saw what he was looking at and said, “I told you they cleaned it out. Looks like they must have had a list or a picture or something on the door.”

Inside the room were several wooden benches and shelves, all with chemical stains and circular burn marks where bottles had dripped. Jack saw where acidic fumes had blackened some of the walls and ceiling. High on one wall a small exhaust fan had been left with its frame screwed into the wall. The fan was blackened with a dark film of dirt and covered a fist-sized circular hole leading to the outside. Toxic fumes had burned the rhododendrons outside.

“I was right,” said Jack. “This was their kitchen.”

“Kitchen?” replied Connie.

“Not for making pasta,” replied Jack, slowly gazing around the room. A small eyehole screw mounted in the corner of the room close to the ceiling caught his attention. His gaze followed the same height to a similar screw stuck in the wall above the door jamb. “You see that?” asked Jack.

“Couple of screws?” asked Connie.

Jack examined the top of the door and pointed to several small holes in the wood. “They had a switch mounted here,” he said.

“What are you talking about?”

“Trip wire,” replied Jack. This place was booby-trapped. Pretty common with labs. Nasty surprise for anyone wanting to rip the place off.”

“What about cops?” replied Connie angrily. “I’d have walked right into it.”

“Don’t think they care about cops, either … or nosy neighbours, for that matter. Some of these idiots don’t realize they would get more time in jail for setting a booby trap than they do for the lab itself. Lucky for you they decided to take their stuff with them. Let’s get out of here. The fumes are really carcinogenic.”

“What’s the proper procedure now?” asked Connie.

“Drug Section has specially trained members to dismantle clandestine labs under the direction of a chemist. This has already been dismantled so I would call in a Health Inspector who will cordon off the building. The place may only need a really good cleaning or it could require renovations. As far as Forensics go, see what the Health Inspector says, but you may need to tell them to wear hazmat suits, as well.”

“What about the idiots making it? Don’t the bad guys —”

“Some take precautions or wear masks, but that is a far cry from the proper protection of a hazmat suit. If they stay at it, they end up with brains the size of walnuts or blow themselves up before they die of cancer.”

Connie nodded, but stopped to stare at Father Brown’s body. A ray of sunlight broke through the clouds and glistened off the crucifix in sharp contrast to the pool of blood.

“You Catholic?” asked Jack.

Connie nodded.

“Think maybe you should turn the investigation over to someone who isn’t?”

“Why?”

“If it goes to court the defence will say that because of your belief you weren’t objective in the investigation and claim you framed whoever did this out of blind rage.”

“I may feel rage at what took place, but I’m not blind. I’m seeing this through to the end.”

Jack shrugged in response.

On their way up the outside steps, Connie gave Jack a sideways glance and said, “I can’t believe that you, of all people, would be trying to slam me on objectivity.”

“I wasn’t slamming you. Simply saying what the defence will do.”

“Well?” interrupted Laura, looking questioningly at Jack as he and Connie stepped outside.

“Clandestine lab,” said Jack.

Laura glanced at the upper portion of the house before briefly closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

Connie realized what Laura was thinking and she turned to Jack to ask a question that she feared she already knew the answer to. “You said carcinogenic … what about the people who live upstairs?”

“Who knows,” replied Jack. “For them it will be like living with a ticking time bomb. Never knowing if … or when it will kill you. The bad guys used an exhaust fan … maybe the people upstairs are okay … maybe not. Everyone who has spent any amount of time in the place should get checked out.”

“She was running a daycare,” said Connie quietly.

“I know,” replied Jack.

“Kids … babies,” said Laura, “everyone will have to keep checking to make sure they don’t —” she stopped, choosing instead to bite her lip to maintain control of her emotions.

Unlike Laura, Connie’s sorrow and fear was replaced with anger. “These sons of bitches killed a priest,” she said vehemently. “They had the place booby trapped … meth lab in a daycare … they don’t give a fuck about anything or anyone.” She unconsciously clenched her fist as she stared at Jack. “I want these guys. I want them behind bars for the rest of their lives.”

“You and me both,” said Jack sombrely. “We’ll meet with Gabriel and show her the pictures. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

All three of them stared up at the house and took a moment to regain control of their emotions. Connie was the first to talk. “I’m told Gabriel is distraught and in shock,” she cautioned. “Time is of the essence. I want her to be able to focus right now, so don’t tell her about the cancer stuff. When you’re done, I’ll take a statement from her, after which I’ll tell her to go to the doctor. The sooner we can find these guys the better.”

Jack sighed and said, “Okay, the ugly part of introducing her to her future nightmares will be left to you.”

“Along with contacting all the parents who brought their children here,” added Laura.

Connie nodded in agreement and said, “The pictures might be our best bet. Got a feeling that Forensics will be a dead end. I’d like to get these assholes before they’ve destroyed any more evidence. With the amount of blood the actual killer would have on him, even if he showers, we might still find trace amounts under his nails or up his nose and in his ears … providing we get him soon.”

“We’ll let you know in about an hour,” replied Jack.

Jack and Laura spent the next forty-five minutes sitting with Gabriel at her kitchen table while Jack presented a slide show on his laptop of all the bikers he knew in British Columbia, along with their friends and associates.

During this time, Noah sat in the living room while Faith, not understanding what had happened, was content to lie under a blanket on the sofa and snooze.

“I’m sorry,” said Gabriel, when the slide show ended. “I don’t think any of these people are them.” She wiped her eyes again, barely controlling her tears as she had during the entire process. Jack knew that her grief over Father Brown was genuine and her inability to help added to her grief.

“The men who were in my basement looked nice,” sniffled Gabriel. “They didn’t look dirty or have long hair and beards like most of the people in these pictures.”

Jack nodded that he understood.

Gabriel leaned back in her chair, extending her arms by her side, and said, “I still don’t understand. Father Brown was a beautiful person. He would read bedtime stories to Faith, help Noah with his homework. Babysit.… He went out of his way to help complete strangers. He didn’t have money … so why? Why would anyone commit such an ungodly act?”

“We’ll do our best to find out who did it and why,” replied Jack.

“Maybe it wasn’t the people downstairs. Maybe it was one of those drunken men who keep coming to my yard. Some use very bad language and —”

“Everything has been cleaned out of the basement,” said Jack. “Also the door was locked and Father Brown is inside.”

Gabriel stared blankly at Jack. When her mind accepted his reasoning, she focused on another matter. “There’s blood out on the lawn and the house. I’ll need to clean it,” she said, placing her elbows on the table and covering her face with her hands.

“Try not to think about that,” said Jack, feeling lame. How can she not think of it? “You’re going to need some emotional support. I’ll put you in touch with Victim Services. They will help you. Is there a place … relatives, somewhere you could stay for a few days?”

“I have a sister in North Van. She has a house … but she’s married … children. I don’t want to impose …”

“Under the circumstances you should stay with her. You’re still in shock. It’s difficult to think clearly. You need to do what is best for you and your children.”

Gabriel didn’t respond. The silence was broken when Noah and Faith came in and Faith tugged on Gabriel’s sleeve. “Mommy, my throat hurts,” she whined, before coughing.

Gabriel lifted her onto her lap and looked at Jack and said, “She had the mumps vaccination last week and has a bit of a lump on her neck. Likely a small reaction.”

Jack caught the look on Laura’s face. He knew her concern was the same as his. She said, “Jack, why don’t you call Natasha and ask her if that type of reaction is normal?”

“Natasha?” asked Gabriel.

“My wife is a doctor,” explained Jack, getting up from his chair. He walked into the living room and called Natasha on his BlackBerry. He knew the reaction wasn’t normal, but hoped he was wrong. Natasha confirmed that he wasn’t.

“Can I look at the pictures?” asked Noah as soon as Jack returned to the kitchen.

“Sure,” replied Jack. “Push this button each time you want to advance.”

“I know how to use a computer,” said Noah. “Are all these really bad guys?”

“Some are and some might be their friends,” replied Jack.

“But if you’re friends of a bad guy then aren’t you a bad guy, too?” asked Noah.

“You don’t always know who the bad guys are,” replied Jack, glancing at Faith curled up on Gabriel’s lap.

Gabriel stroked Faith’s hair with her hand and asked, “Were you able to talk with your wife? What did she say?”

“Um … she said that type of reaction is not normal and that you should have her checked out right away. It could be a lot of things.”

“Like what?” asked Gabriel, her face revealing her worry.

“She, uh, didn’t really elaborate. How long has she been sick?”

“Only a few days.”

“Anybody else sick in the house?” asked Jack.

“No, thank the Lord,” replied Gabriel.

“Jack,” said Laura, “I don’t think we should wait for Connie to take a statement if Natasha said —”

Jack put up his hand, signalling for Laura to stop and turned to Gabriel and said, “Does Faith have her own bedroom?”

“Yes,” replied Gabriel, sounding puzzled.

“I would like to see it,” replied Jack. “Would you mind?”

“I haven’t cleaned it,” replied Gabriel. “With her being sick … the bed isn’t made.”

“That’s okay,” replied Jack. “We’re not with Good Housekeeping.”

“Okay … I’ll show you,” replied Gabriel. She carried Faith down the hall as Jack and Laura followed. As they reached the bedroom door Gabriel asked, “What are you looking for?”

“Examining if Faith could be sick from an environmental cause,” replied Jack.

“I told you I hadn’t cleaned for a few days,” responded Gabriel nervously, “but I am sure that my housekeeping is not such as to make anyone sick. If you are thinking …”

“From what I can see, your home is impeccable,” replied Jack, entering the bedroom. “I’m more concerned with fumes coming up from the basement.”

“Oh, that,” said Gabriel, sounding relieved. “I’m used to it and don’t smell it anymore. What you’re smelling is cleaning fluids that the men downstairs sometimes mix up for different cleaning solutions. They told me that different types of floors and rugs require different types of cleaning agents.”

Jack spotted a discoloration on the wallpaper alongside Faith’s bed. He got on his knees and looked under the bed. What he saw made him want to retch. It was a cold-air return vent coming up from the basement. He was conscious of Laura getting down on her knees and looking. Their eyes met and he saw her mouth drop open in shock as their eyes met.

“I found him!” yelled Noah, from the kitchen. “This is one of them!”

The excitement of Noah’s discovery caused Jack and Laura to temporarily suspend their thoughts on the cold-air return. Seconds later, everyone huddled around Noah at the kitchen table as he proudly pointed to a picture.

“See?” said Noah, pointing at the picture with his finger. “That’s Joe.”

“Oh, no, honey,” said Gabriel, while ruffling Noah’s hair. “Joe doesn’t have a beard. This man looks —”

“No, Mom,” said Noah, sounding exasperated. “His hair is the same colour.”

“Reddish-blond,” said Gabriel. “Honey, lots of people have hair that colour.”

“No,” said Noah adamantly. “You never believe me. You’re so dense sometimes,” he muttered.

“Noah Parsons, you don’t talk that way with me,” replied Gabriel crossly.

“Mom, look closer at his eyes,” pleaded Noah. “He even has the same freckles on his nose.”

Gabriel looked again and after a few seconds she brought her face closer to the screen. “Good heavens, you’re right,” she said in amazement. “It is him!” She looked at Jack and added, “But his hair is short now and he is clean shaven.”

“Told you so,” said Noah, looking pleased with himself.

Jack knew the man in the photo. Herman Varrick. A year and a half ago Varrick ran one of seven labs on which Jack orchestrated raids after receiving information from an informant inside Satans Wrath. An informant he no longer had.

To make matters worse, Satans Wrath had an informant of their own. Someone working in Drug Section had tipped off some of the labs prior to the raid. Those who were arrested were released the following day. Some were still awaiting trial, including Varrick. So far, the dirty narc had never been identified.

Jack reflected upon the time of the raids and the time that Varrick moved into Gabriel’s home. Varrick relocated here as a result of what I did. I’m responsible for —

Faith coughed and started to cry.

Jack stared at Faith. His brain tried to protect him from what his actions may have caused. Maybe she has a cold. Could be nothing — the cold air return under her bed … still …

He continued to stare as his thoughts gave in to the more likely reason for her illness. He clenched his jaw in an effort to control his own tears of frustration and sadness.

Chapter Four

Jack and Laura stood in the backyard and quickly told Connie what they knew.

“Herman Varrick,” Connie said. “So he’s a member of Satans Wrath?”

“Not a member,” replied Jack. “They wouldn’t risk having a club member take a chance like that. But Varrick was under their control before. I’m sure he and his fellow lab rats are still receiving their orders from Satans Wrath. Last time the bikers had a prospect handling the lab rats to act as a go-between with a member of the club. Things have changed since then, but Satans Wrath will still be in control … only more insulated.”

Connie looked pensive so Laura said, “A prospect is like a probationary member of the club. Sometimes they call him a striker.”

“Yeah, I know that,” replied Connie dismissively. “I was deciding how to approach the situation. If Satans Wrath are handling these guys, I know I won’t get any confessions, even if I do find traces of blood.”

“You don’t think traces of blood up some guy’s nose and in his ears would be enough to convict?” asked Laura.

“I doubt it,” replied Connie. “Defence would have their client say they were there and tried to stop the assault. Turn the murderer into a hero. I want more than blood drops if we’re dealing with Satans Wrath.” She turned to Jack and said, “What do you think? You’re the expert on these guys.”

“You’re right about not getting a confession from them,” said Jack. “Last time we caught them their lawyer was waiting at the office before the narcs got back with the prisoners.”

“Wasn’t that the same lawyer who later disappeared?” asked Connie, looking at Jack with suspicion. “Rumoured to have been murdered by a Colombian drug cartel?”

“That’s the one,” replied Jack. “Having to obtain a new lawyer is a standard excuse the bad guys use to drag out their court cases.” He stared momentarily at Connie and added, “And for your information, the lawyer was murdered —”

Connie’s eyebrows furrowed.

“— by bad guys,” continued Jack. “At least, according to a reliable informant we used to have.”

Connie felt a little relieved. Not that he wasn’t involved somehow …

“Enough chit-chat,” said Jack. “I’m taking Gabriel and her kids to the Children’s Hospital. She’s in no shape to drive. I’ve spoken with Natasha. Everyone who has spent time in the house needs to be checked, as well.”

“We have priorities,” said Connie. “We need to find these guys. I’ll get uniform to take her. I want you to —”

“No, I’m taking her,” replied Jack firmly. “For the next hour, Faith is my priority. I’ve got Natasha pulling some strings for us. It’s better if I do it. In the meantime, Laura can go back to the office and start digging.”

Giving in was not one of Connie’s traits, but she had dealt with Jack before. Giving in was not one of his traits, either. She decided not to waste time arguing. Besides, with Jack, I’ll lose, anyway. “Okay,” she replied. “I’ll save the statement taking for some other time.”

Jack looked at Laura and added, “Grab a ride back to the office with uniform.”

Laura nodded and said, “I’ll talk to the narcs and see if we can come up with an address for Varrick. Also go through our intel and see who he was with when he was arrested last time.”

“Careful about who you talk to in Drug Section,” cautioned Jack.

“I know. I’ll use Sammy’s team and tell them to be discreet.”

“You, uh, mind filling me in on that?” asked Connie.

“This stays between us,” answered Jack. “A year and a half ago when we raided the labs, someone in Drug Section tipped off the bad guys and two of the labs had been cleaned out.”

“Bastard,” replied Connie. “Who did it?”

“Never identified as far as I know,” replied Jack, looking at Laura for confirmation.

“That true, Laura?” asked Connie who knew that Laura’s husband, Elvis, worked for the Anti-Corruption Unit, which handled the heavier cases coming out of Internal Affairs.

“Not yet,” replied Laura. “I spoke to Elvis about it. He says they’re narrowing it down. The office is broken into teams who work on different projects. By moving members around to different teams it basically becomes a process of elimination to figure out what is being leaked and who knew about it.”

“The old shell game,” commented Jack.

“So far they still don’t know,” added Laura. “Elvis does assure me that Sammy’s team is clean. In fact, Sammy has been helping disseminate bogus info for Elvis on occasion.”

“So we have a dirty narc to hinder us. Isn’t that lovely,” said Connie sarcastically.

“Do you want Varrick arrested if I locate him?” asked Laura.

“We need to identify his two playmates,” replied Connie. “If you find him, do surveillance and see who he hangs with. I’d like to give Forensics a chance to see if they come up with something. The more nails we have to put in their coffins the better.”

Jack sat with Gabriel at her kitchen table while Noah and Faith were in the living room. “The men in your basement were running a clandestine lab,” said Jack.

“You found an illegal drug lab in my basement!” said Gabriel in astonishment.

“All their equipment and chemicals are gone, but they were definitely running a lab.”

“No, you don’t understand,” said Gabriel. “I told you before. They were running a janitorial supply service. What you smell is —”

“No,” replied Jack firmly. “I know the man that Noah identified. He is a criminal. I’m sorry, but I am positive they were not operating a janitorial service.”

“Oh, dear,” said Gabriel. She glanced toward the living room and said, “I really am dense.”

“These guys are good at deceiving people,” said Jack. “They easily manipulate judges and juries. It’s their profession. We have found lots of labs operating right under people’s noses.”

Gabriel looked at Jack and muttered, “I really am stupid.”

“No, you simply aren’t familiar with how criminals operate. Hind sight is 20/20.”

“They seemed so nice …” Gabriel sighed and added, “My sister often commented that I was a little too naive.”

“Our concern is that these labs can be very carcinogenic,” said Jack. “My wife feels it would be a good idea for everyone to be checked out as a precaution. I would like to drive you and your children to B.C. Children’s Hospital.”

“You want to drive us to the hospital now?” asked Gabriel, glancing nervously at Faith who was back lying on the sofa. She paused and stared at Jack briefly. “What is it?” she demanded. “What haven’t you told me? You looked in her room, under her bed … what … what is it? Tell me!”

Jack took a deep breath and said, “There is a cold air return under her bed that leads directly to a room in the basement that the men used for their lab.”

“But you said everything has been cleaned out,” replied Gabriel as her brain went into denial. “You can’t be sure. You said the man used to be a criminal. It doesn’t mean he still is.”

Jack shook his head to show she was wrong.

“Father Brown said that there is not enough forgiveness in society,” said Gabriel accusingly. “That we often expect the worst of people, making it difficult for those who have truly repented to be welcomed back into society.”

“The person Noah identified is someone I arrested for running a meth lab a year and a half ago. It appears he moved to your house after he was arrested. I checked downstairs. There are still signs of what they were doing. I’m experienced in these matters. I have no doubt.”

Gabriel looked at Jack as the realization sunk in. “You mean you knew about him a year and a half ago and let him go?” she said harshly. “Why didn’t you keep him in jail? You’re telling me that you allowed him to come here and murder Father Brown. Maybe hurt my family! How could you do that? What kind of person are you to —”

“Mom! What’s wrong?” interjected Noah as he bounded into the kitchen at the sound of his mother’s yelling. When he didn’t get an answer, he stood between the two adults and looked defiantly at Jack.

Jack eyed him briefly. You feel you had to become the man of the house when you dad died. Protective … “Son,” said Jack quietly, “A terrible thing has happened. People, even adults, are upset. It will be okay.”

“I’m not your son,” said Noah defiantly. “Don’t ever call me that.”

“You’re right,” said Jack, “and I apologize. You’re the one who found the bad guy for us. Pretty impressive that you could keep your cool after what has happened.” Jack looked at Gabriel and said, “I bet you’re awfully proud of him.”

“I am,” replied Gabriel. “I’ve always been proud of him.”

Jack nodded. The break from the previous conversation served to calm Gabriel’s voice.

“About the bad guy,” said Jack, “the choice to keep him in jail was not mine to make.”

“But if he didn’t quit, why didn’t you arrest him again? Why did you let him stay here?”

“I’m sorry,” replied Jack sincerely. “About a year and a half ago, seven labs were raided by the police all in one day. Many people were arrested. They were all released shortly after appearing in court. I work for an intelligence unit dealing with organized crime. The majority of the people arrested that day were too low on the criminal ladder for me to keep track of. There are far more criminals than there are police officers. We simply don’t have the manpower to keep following everyone we would like.”

“These men commit murder and you’re telling me they are too low on the ladder for you to work on?” she replied bitterly.

Jack sighed and said, “Maybe you have a right to condemn me, but I still need to drive you all to the hospital. My wife works in a medical clinic, but she has made arrangements to see that Faith receives priority.”

Gabriel did not utter a word during the forty-five minute drive to the hospital. Noah was a little more inquisitive, but was content to hear that it was a matter of routine for everyone to be checked by a physician under such circumstances.

When Gabriel took her children to meet with a physician, Jack spoke to a grief counsellor at the hospital by the name of Phyllis. He gave her his business card and asked her to help Gabriel and let him know if there was anything he could do.

“I’ll be glad to,” replied Phyllis. “Gabriel is lucky to have you involved. So tell me, how are Holly and Charlie doing? Do you see them?”

Jack was taken back. He did not know Phyllis, but during a previous investigation he had dealt with Holly and her young son, Charlie, who had become paraplegic as a result of a bullet. A bullet meant for Jack.

“Holly opened up a small restaurant on the North Shore,” said Jack. “I still see her on occasion. She and Charlie, and her daughter, Jenny, seem to be doing okay.”

“Good to hear,” Phyllis replied. “I saw her about a year ago when she brought Charlie in for a check-up.”

“Have you and I met?” asked Jack.

“No, but I saw you coming to visit Charlie. Holly thinks the world of you, by the way.”

“Thanks,” said Jack. “Holly is a nice lady. So is Gabriel, so I would appreciate anything you can do for her. I would also like to be kept in the loop.”

“I’ll do what I can for her, but as far as keeping you apprised of anything medical … well, I shouldn’t really do that without Gabriel’s permission.”

“I’m not exactly in her good books. One of the men running a lab in her basement is someone I had arrested before. I never kept track of him after the arrest and he simply changed locations and set up a new lab in Gabriel’s basement. He’s still awaiting trial. Indirectly I am to blame for this.”

“You’re responsible? What about the man you arrested? Seems to me we should hold the criminals responsible for their actions.”

Jack snorted and said, “Novel idea. You should suggest that to our judicial system.”

“The point is, it wasn’t you who would have released him.” She pointed her finger at Jack’s chest and said, “You’re not responsible. Indirectly or otherwise.”

Jack smiled politely. “Thanks, I guess you’re right.” Except I know he was released to an unsuspecting public. Knowing all that and I still didn’t do anything …

Phyllis agreed to keep in touch. Before Jack left the hospital, he once more met with Gabriel and handed her his business card.

She took it reluctantly and said, “I called my sister. We’ll spend the weekend with her.”

“My cell number is on the card,” Jack said. “Call me when you need to go home.”

“I don’t need your help,” she replied bitterly.

Jack stared at Gabriel momentarily and said, “I promise you that I will get who did this.”

“That will not bring Father Brown back,” replied Gabriel, “nor will it help my children. God will decide what mercy these men should receive.”

Jack thought about Gabriel’s comment on his way back to the parking lot. His self-incrimination became replaced by something else. Rage. Rage at a justice system he knew to be inept. By the time he arrived at his car, he lost his ability to hold his emotions in check. It resulted in a couple of bruised knuckles and a dent in his car door.

The trouble is, lady, your religious placebo might work for you … but I don’t believe in gods … or showing mercy to people like Varrick.

Chapter Five

It was late afternoon when Jack returned to the office.

“How did it go?” asked Laura.

Jack shrugged and said, “Did what I could. Put Gabriel in touch with a grief counsellor. It’ll be a few days before the doctors know anything. How did you make out?”

“The only address on Varrick is the one he gave when he was arrested last time. It’s his parents’ house in Port Coquitlam. He has the same address on his driver’s licence, but doesn’t have any vehicles registered to him. He was released without any reporting conditions. Connie has a team sitting on the parents’ house, but it doesn’t look good.”

“I’m sure it’s not. When’s his next court appearance?”

“He’s had his prelim and is scheduled for trial at the end of April.”

“Three months away.”

“Connie wasn’t happy when she heard.”

“We’ll find him before then,” replied Jack.

Laura gestured to a mound of reports on her desk and said, “I’m trying. I’ve collected every scrap of info I can on him and anyone he has been known to associate with.”

“He could still be taking orders through some prospect with Satans Wrath.”

“I know, but nothing is popping up to indicate who. I’ve been trying to triangulate any common denominators, phone numbers, anything I can find. Keeping track of Satans Wrath and their associates was bad enough before. Now that they are affiliating with all these street gangs it is worse. This is a mess,” she said, gesturing at all the reports. “It didn’t sound like he actually lived in Gabriel’s basement, but where he is staying is anybody’s guess.”

“He probably didn’t sleep at Gabriel’s because of the danger to his health,” said Jack. “Also it was booby-trapped, so that’s another sign that they weren’t there all the time.”

“With what we’ve got it seems hopeless,” lamented Laura.

Jack swept half the mound of paperwork onto his desk and looked at Laura. “We will find him,” he said determinedly.

It was early evening when Connie stopped in.

“Anything on the surveillance?” asked Laura, glancing up from her desk.

Connie shook her head. “The parents are there, but no sign of Herman yet. He could be in the house, but the only car in the driveway is registered to his parents. I’ve got a feeling he isn’t home. Let’s hope he shows up later.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” said Jack. “How did Forensics make out?”

“No prints,” replied Connie, while wheeling an office chair over and sitting down. “Not even a footprint or tire track.” Her face brightened a little and she added, “Did find one black hair stuck to a piece of skull out on the lawn. Father Brown had grey hair, so it’s not his.”

“Varrick has red,” said Jack.

“Yeah, I know,” frowned Connie. “That’s why I’m here. How are you making out? Did he have a buddy with him last time he was arrested? Someone he might be staying with?”

“He did,” replied Laura. “I checked him first. Confirmed that he’s been in jail for the last two months for assault.”

“Another dead end,” muttered Connie. “Tell me you’ve got something else. What about the prospect who was acting as a go-between last time?”

“Full-fledged member now,” said Jack. “He wouldn’t have any hands-on involvement. Times have changed. We have The Brotherhood to contend with, as do Satans Wrath.”

“The Brotherhood? I’ve heard of that gang. What have they got to do with this?”

“Not a gang,” replied Jack. “A conglomeration of gangs. Mostly gangs with mixed ethnic backgrounds. The Brotherhood started off as East Indian, but now encompass lots of other gangs, including Vietnamese, Chinese, Anglo-Saxon … everyone. I’ve checked with the Gang Unit. Dozens of gangs have sprouted up in the lower mainland. About half a dozen gangs in particular are composed of hardcore seasoned criminals. Most of the gangs have an abundance of juveniles, as well, which means light or no jail sentences.”

“And they call themselves The Brotherhood?” asked Connie.

Jack shook his head and said, “Several of the gangs don’t have names. Just groups of criminals, both male and female. Many of the gangs once tried to unite under the banner of The Brotherhood, thinking it would cut down on the turf wars. As the gangs grew, it didn’t work out. There’s been a split within The Brotherhood. As you can tell by all the shootings, the turf wars are back on. The Gang Unit is overrun with work trying to keep a handle on all the hoods doing the drive-by shootings, let alone work on the bosses who are ordering the hits.”

“Some are more than drive-bys,” said Connie. “The body count is growing at an unbelievable rate. A lot of the cases have ended up in my office, but I wasn’t assigned to them because I was busy at the pig farm.” She paused and said, “But you didn’t answer my question. Varrick was involved with Satans Wrath. What does The Brotherhood have to do with it?”

“The Brotherhood is dealing lots of dope, including meth. They’re too much of a cash-cow for the bikers to ignore. Our latest intel indicates a common denominator between biker meth and the meth being sold by The Brotherhood. Our lab often identifies specific samples of meth as being made by the same chemist or at least the same ingredients and formula. The Brotherhood meth is matching the same meth coming from biker sources. There are also a lot more labs than there used to be. Seems like they’re springing up all over the place.”

“So Satans Wrath and The Brothrhood have formed a partnership?” asked Connie. “Maybe using the same chemists to make it?”

“Correct, except I don’t know if partnership is quite the right word,” said Jack. “Satans Wrath is one of the top organized crime families in the world. It is only a matter of time before they’ll control The Brotherhood completely. The bikers had feelers out with at least the half-dozen or so bosses in The Brotherhood whom they consider worthy. With the dope starting to match up, it is obvious that it is more than feelers.”

“Feelers?” asked Connie.

“Ambassadors, if you will,” replied Jack.

“A bit like a corporate takeover,” said Connie.

“Exactly,” replied Jack. “The Brotherhood is penny ante in comparison to Satans Wrath. Extremely violent and stupid, but penny ante. Lots of young kids who lack conscience and think they’re invincible. Also naive and stupid enough to think that using a gun will give them status as a real gangster. In reality, they’re only cannon fodder for the real gangsters who are smart enough not to take stupid risks.”

“In some aspects, that makes The Brotherhood more dangerous than Satans Wrath,” added Laura. “Getting stoned and spraying bullets around isn’t the bikers’ style.”

“If The Brotherhood is comprised of morons, how come Satans Wrath hasn’t already taken over or kicked them out?” asked Connie.

“Satans Wrath aren’t stupid. They’ve been learning the ropes for the last sixty years. They don’t want to risk openly associating with The Brotherhood during all these shootings. Too much police attention combined with a lack of discipline on the part of The Brotherhood. The bikers will sit back and go with the winning side once the wars are settled.”

“More like control the winning side,” added Laura.

“Definitely,” said Jack. “In the meantime, although the war is bad for business, it gives Satans Wrath a chance to appraise who they’ll want working for them in the future. They could easily take out the bosses of The Brotherhood, but as I said, they’re a cash cow. The Brotherhood has a lot of kids working for them. Kids dealing dope in schools, arcades, playgrounds, and everywhere else kids hang out. The Brotherhood is a good conduit for the bikers to control in order to make money. Let them take the risk while the bikers rake in the cash. Varrick was under the control of Satans Wrath and likely still is, but he could have been assigned to work with The Brotherhood. There has been a definite amalgamation with how they make meth. We have to presume that they are working together.”

“Christ,” said Connie. “Nothing is ever simple. Why couldn’t I just once get a case where the wife comes home and shoots her husband for screwin’ around on him … then calls us to say she did it.” She waved her arms in the air and added, “All this shit with gangs, juveniles, The Brotherhood, Satans Wrath —”

“Ah, come on, Connie,” said Jack, with a grin. “Don’t tell me you don’t like a challenge. I know you better than that.”

“I really want to solve this,” replied Connie, sounding exasperated.

“Us, too,” replied Jack, his voice becoming sombre. “If you saw the look on Gabriel’s face after the doctors told her what they were testing for … holding Faith in her lap …” Jack concentrated on taking a deep breath and slowly exhaling in an unsuccessful attempt to block the memory before continuing. “Believe me,” he said determinedly, “we will solve it.”

“Well, you caught Varrick before,” said Connie. “Let’s catch him again. Any suggestions?”

“We need to find him and identify who was with him. With the evidence you have so far, you know there is no chance you could convict. If you haul him in for questioning he won’t talk and all it would do is let him know we’re on to him. Once we find him, maybe you could get a wiretap. We’ll work together. Laura and I will liaison with Drug Section and the Biker Unit if the need arises. We still have some more reading to do. With The Brotherhood, it is going to take time to figure out who all the players are.”

“I’ll keep a surveillance team on the house,” said Connie. “Maybe he’ll show up. Let’s see what another day brings.”

It was ten o’clock at night when Jack arrived home and pulled into his parking space in the underground parking lot. He was glad to see that Natasha’s parking spot was still empty, but knew she would be home from work soon.

Jack went to their apartment and returned a few minutes later with a toilet plunger. He was successful in that the plunger sucked the ding out of his car door, but as he walked back to the elevator, Natasha arrived.

She got out of the car and kissed him, before gesturing to the toilet plunger. “I always thought your expression of you don’t catch sewer rats with church mice was what you said about your informants. I had no idea that you really were after sewer rats.”

Jack sighed and said, “I used it take a dent out of the car door.”

“Accident?” asked Natasha.

“I punched it,” admitted Jack.

“Did it help?”

“No. Made me feel stupid.”

“Bad day at the office, or did the door take a swing at you first?”

“Hasn’t been a good day,” replied Jack.

“Involving that family you brought to BCCH?”

“Yes.”

“So you’re after the sewer rats who lived in her basement.”

Jack nodded.

“Sounds like tonight we should have a glass of wine and unwind a little.”

“Make it a bottle.”

Natasha eyed Jack’s hand and said, “Break any bones?”

“No, I haven’t caught them yet.”

“I mean your hand, not —” She stopped when she saw Jack smile at her. “Do I need to worry?” she asked, convinced that Jack’s smile was not genuine.

“I think I cracked a knuckle, but as far as the bad guys go, you don’t need to worry.”

Natasha stared at him silently.

“Hey, I’m smiling, aren’t I?” added Jack.

“Yeah, and your upper lip looks a bit like a Frankfurter. It always does when you’re trying to pull one over on me.”

Jack’s chuckle was genuine. “I love you, you know.”

“I love you, too.” She eyed Jack’s hand again. Punching a car door was not his style. She gave him a quick kiss on his cheek and said, “Let’s go find that corkscrew … then we’ll talk … and don’t try to bullshit me or I’ll use that plunger on you.”

“I could think of a nicer way to get a hickey,” replied Jack.

“Hickey? Wasn’t what I had in mind. You would need a proctologist when I was done.”

It was seven o’clock Friday morning when Jack arrived back at Gabriel’s house with cleaning supplies. The blood was sprayed high enough up the back of the house that he needed to borrow a ladder from a neighbour. As he scrubbed the streams of dried blood off the aluminium siding he reflected on the violent, uncontrollable rage of the person who did the murder. This is one animal I will find …

Later that afternoon, Connie returned to Jack and Laura’s office. Any optimism she had disappeared when they both gave her the thumbs-down signal.

“How about you?” asked Jack.

“Not a thing on the Varrick house. The parents went grocery shopping and to the liquor store and that was it.”

“How about the crime scene?” asked Laura.

Connie shook her head and said, “We canvassed the neighbourhood and there was nothing of interest.” She eyed Jack curiously and said, “I heard you were there this morning, making like a janitor.”

Jack shrugged in response.

“You should have asked me,” said Laura. “I would have helped.”

“It was no big deal,” replied Jack. “I was awake early.” More like I hardly slept from grinding my teeth all night …

“It was good of you,” said Connie. “Anyway, I’ve even taking to interviewing winos. I’ve talked to four of them so far. There’s a liquor store about a block away from Gabriel’s. I’m posting a member there every day for the next week. Also got Forensics collecting prints from empty wine bottles we’ve found in a vacant lot down the alley to identify others.”

“Interviewing winos,” mused Jack. “I heard recruitment for your section was down, but I hadn’t realized how desperate you had become.”

“Smartass,” replied Connie. “No, from what we’ve been told, there were at least a dozen different winos who used Gabriel’s yard to get out of the rain. I’m going on a possible theory, with the way Father Brown was dressed, that he might have gone outside to chase some winos away and saw something he shouldn’t have. Then again, he might have seen one of the dopers doing something and went out to investigate.”

“So you’re hoping to come up with a drunk as a witness,” said Jack. “Bet the courts will love that.”

“Christ,” replied Connie. “The reason I’m telling you is to show how desperate I am. We need to find Varrick!”

“If you’re that desperate, want me to try a quick UC call to his parents?” asked Jack.

“If you could think of something that wouldn’t heat him up, go for it,” replied Connie.

“I’ll think of something,” replied Jack. “Wait in the hall and close the door and make sure nobody walks in during the call.”

Jack waited until Connie left and closed the office door before glancing at Laura and saying, “I thought it better that Connie not hear. Don’t want her to have to tell a judge and have the case thrown out by saying it put justice into disrepute.”

“The lawyer act?” smiled Laura.

Jack nodded as he thumbed through a file. “I have Varrick’s parents’ number … need to find out what lawyer is representing him on his drug charge.”

“It’s Basil Westmount from the law firm of Manhattan, Westmount, and Wilson,” said Laura.

Seconds later, Jack punched in a phone number on his cellphone. “Good afternoon, may I speak to Mister Herman Varrick please … oh, I see, you’re his mother,” he said. “Yes, I’m calling from Manhattan, Westmount, and Wilson.… Yes it is about his upcoming trial.… No, I’m sorry, his trial is still going ahead and it is imperative that we locate your son immediately.… I would call him, but the phone number we have is no longer in service.… Thank you, I would appreciate that …” Jack quickly jotted down a number and asked, “That is a cell number, is it?… We don’t need to talk to your son as much as we need to courier him some documentation. Could you confirm his current address?.… It’s called Headstones? Yes, I’ve heard of the place. I believe we have the address on file from a previous client. Thank you very much.… It is a transcript from his preliminary hearing.… He already has that? Then I am extremely sorry for having bothered you. Our secretary should have made a notation on the file. We won’t need to contact your son, then.”

Jack hung up and winked at Laura before calling for Connie to come back in. When she did, he said, “It worked. I’ve got his cell number and address.”

“Fantastic,” said Connie. “How did you do it?”

“Pretended to be a friend looking for him,” said Jack

“Man,” said Connie. “I never thought these guys would fall for that old line. This is great, I’ll find out who he’s been talking with.”

I didn’t think they would fall for that either, thought Jack. He looked at Connie and said, “I wouldn’t get your hopes up on getting much in the way of phone tolls. He gave this number to his mother, so it’s his permanent number. He’ll be using disposable phones for the stuff we’re interested in. Cellphones that he’ll toss out every week or so.”

Connie frowned and said, “Hope you’re wrong. What about his address?”

“Familiar with a place out in White Rock the bikers have nicknamed Headstones?”

“Nope,” replied Connie. “Must not have had any murders there.”

“None reported,” replied Jack. “Headstones is a three-storey older house a couple of blocks back from the beach. It used to be a bed and breakfast place before it was bought by a close associate to Satans Wrath.”

“More of a silent partnership,” added Laura.

“It’s a party place for people they don’t necessarily trust enough to bring to their real clubhouse,” continued Jack. “Also a crash pad for some. The bikers nicknamed it Headstones.”

“Odd name,” said Connie. “Sounds like a place where we should excavate the yard.”

“You want another pig farm?” asked Jack.

“Hell, no,” replied Connie, thinking of the killing ground of one of B.C.’s more notorious serial killers.

“Relax, I don’t think the bikers are that stupid,” continued Jack. “It got its name from a couple of large rocks on each side of the entrance to the driveway. A lot of prospective club members or associates live there and run the place. It has about eight bedrooms and Varrick is staying in one of them.”

“The place isn’t easy to watch,” cautioned Laura. “They’ve got people coming and going all the time and some are the type who pay attention to anything that looks like it could be surveillance. On top of that, the prospects often do a walk-about checking for heat. There is a place Jack and I found where you can watch if you use binoculars, but if you get any closer you’re liable to get burned.”

“Suggestions?” asked Connie.

“How about you apply for a wiretap on Varrick while Laura and I try to identify what he’s driving and who he is meeting,” replied Jack. “If you get a wire, maybe we’ll get lucky with a room or vehicle bug.”

“He might be meeting his partners in Headstones,” said Connie.

“Laura and I will photograph any new faces,” replied Jack. “We’ll pass the photos on to you and you can show Gabriel.”

“And Noah,” added Laura.

“Why don’t you show her?” asked Connie. “You know them better than I do.”

“I was the one who busted Varrick last time, which caused him to move into her place. I don’t think she would appreciate me coming around.”

“Don’t tell her that.”

“I already did.”

Connie stared at Jack without speaking.

“It was the honest thing to do,” he shrugged.

“You’re a hard guy to figure out sometimes,” muttered Connie. “But even if we get lucky and they pick out a photo, we’ll still need to put a real name to the face or faces. I agree it is the way to go, but I still think we will have more luck with a wire.”

“A wire might help,” said Jack, “but we’re in this for the long haul. The good news is that he will continue. Getting arrested didn’t stop him last time.”

“Last time he didn’t take part in murdering a priest,” said Connie. “It might cause him to change careers. If he goes straight, we may never figure out who his accomplices are.”

“These guys don’t give a damn about who they kill,” replied Jack. “They may lay low for a few days to see if the heat is on, but as soon as the bikers think he’s cool, he’ll be put back to work. His expertise as a lab rat won’t be wasted for long. Too much money involved. When he starts up again we’ll find out who his running mates are.”

“I’ve only got sixty days to run a wire,” warned Connie. “If we don’t get something substantial by then, I won’t be able to get a renewal.”

“I’m aware of that,” replied Jack.

“I don’t see any other options,” added Laura.

Connie nodded in agreement.

Connie and Laura looked silently at Jack.

“Let’s get to work,” he said.

Jack and Laura found a place where they could park their car and use binoculars to watch the parking lot at Headstones. Several rooms on the second and third levels had lights going off and on during the evening. At three in the morning the last of the lights went out.

Jack waited another hour before driving through the parking lot as Laura used a tape recorder to obtain the license plates of half a dozen vehicles still left in the lot. Partway through the lot, Jack tossed an empty beer bottle out the car window. If anyone was watching, they would think they were partiers looking for action. As it turned out, none of the registrations gave any clue as to which one, if any, were being used by Varrick.

Surveillance over the weekend and the following few days did not yield any sign of Varrick. On Friday morning, Connie called Jack to tell him that she had a meeting with Public Prosecution Service of Canada and hoped to have a wiretap signed and running by the following day.

“What about phone tolls?” asked Jack. “Who has he been calling?”

“His parents and a few others that all look legit … like fast food takeout places. The only ones who have a criminal record are his parents, and that was ten years ago for drug trafficking.”

“I was afraid of that,” sighed Jack.

“So I’m doing all this work to get a wire on the phone for nothing.”

“The phone, yes, but if we can put him to a car we might be able to wire it or some other location where they might chat. Like I said, it is going to take time.”

Early Friday afternoon Jack and Laura were slouched in their car watching Headstones and eating submarine sandwiches when Jack stopped chewing to answer his BlackBerry. It was the grief counsellor from the hospital calling to give him the news he dreaded to hear.

“Do you know anything about neuroblastoma?” asked Phyllis.

“No, but it doesn’t sound good,” replied Jack. He repeated the word in his mind. Neuroblastoma … He felt like he had been whacked on the side of his head with a plank. He listened, guts churning, as Phyllis continued to talk. Why didn’t I keep track of the bastards? Faith has cancer. If only I —

“You still there?” asked Phyllis.

“Yes. Sorry. What do you know about it?”

“It is a cancer of the nerve cells and can occur anywhere in the body. In Faith’s case, it is in her nerve tissue alongside her spinal cord in her neck. There are no clear indications of what causes it.”

“There are in this case,” said Jack, harshly, then lowered his window for air. “What’s her prognosis?”

“Don’t know yet. A lot more tests will need to be done. Likely chemo.”

“The rest … what about Noah and Gabriel. The other kids …”

“Things look good for them so far. They’ll have to be retested every six months for the next few years. Jack, I’m sorry. Wish it was better news.”

“I better go see Gabriel,” said Jack.

“Uh, now is not the time.”

Probably hates my guts … and so she should …

“She’s still in denial … doing a lot of praying. For you to see her … well, from what you told me, it could evoke a lot of unwarranted anger. It wouldn’t help either of you. Leave her to me. Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch.”

“Jack!” interjected Laura. “It’s Varrick. Heading to a black pickup truck,” she said, without taking her eyes from the binoculars.

Chapter Six

Connie Crane skipped her lunch break to go to the Public Prosecution Service of Canada and meet with Bob, the prosecutor who had reviewed her application under Part VI of the Criminal Code for a wiretap intercept on Herman Varrick.

Connie made herself comfortable in a chair across from Bob’s desk, and after the usual niceties were exchanged, Connie gestured to her application on Bob’s desk and said, “Well?”

Bob grimanced and replied, “It’s pretty weak, I—”

“Come on, Bob,” interrupted Connie. “He was running a meth lab in the basement where the vic was found. Then he cleaned it out and took off.”

“I know,” replied Bob. “I did read it. Carefully, I might add.”

“Sorry,” sighed Connie. “I know it’s not you. What are the issues you’re worried about?”

“To start with, your affidavit says it wasn’t Varrick who rented it. That it was someone else using a fake identity. You also say that Varrick was frequently in the company of yet a third unidentified person.”

“These other two are who we want to identify,” persisted Connie.

“And you say the only hair you found doesn’t appear to match Varrick. There is nothing specific to indicate he had any involvement in the murder.”

“He was running a meth lab for Pete’s sake.”

“Your Part VI is for a homicide, not drugs.”

“You think I should rewrite it as a drug investigation?”

“No. There is no evidence to indicate he is still involved in the manufacture of drugs.”

“So what are you saying? I don’t have enough to get a wire?”

Bob paused for a moment and flipped through a couple of pages in the affidavit. He looked up and said, “Isn’t there anything else you could give me?”

Connie shook her head and replied, “Nothing yet. We’re doing surveillance, but so far it has been fruitless. We’re hoping to get more evidence once we identify the other two guys. Which I am hoping a wire will do. There is also the other problem. Varrick is scheduled to appear in court for his meth lab trial in April. If he gets slam-dunked then, we’ll really be left in the cold.”

Bob slowly nodded and replied, “Well … I said your affidavit was weak … but maybe not impossible.” He grinned and added, “Your victim was a priest. Maybe we’ll get lucky and get a Catholic judge.”

“I’d appreciate you trying. Otherwise we’ve got nothing.”

“If we do get this signed, you better pray that you do get something within the next sixty days because I guarantee you won’t get an extension otherwise.” He looked sharply at Connie and said, “Are you sure you don’t want to wait and see what else you might dig up?”

Connie glanced at her cellphone and saw an incoming call from Jack. “Give me a sec,” she said apologetically to Bob.

“We’re on him,” said Jack. “Westbound on 99 in a black pickup.”

Connie smiled and turned to Bob and said, “No, I don’t want to wait. I want this son of a bitch!”

Connie got her wiretap order signed that afternoon. She immediately called Jack who told her that Varrick simply went to a bottle recycling depot and dropped off several dozen cases of empties, along with a few boxes of liquor bottles before going to a liquor store and restocking the booze supply at Headstones.

“If they’ve got him doing menial chores at Headstones when he is a cook for a meth lab, it is costing them money,” noted Jack. “They’re worried and are laying low.”

“How long do you think they’ll keep him on ice?”

“I’m surprised he isn’t back to work already,” replied Jack. “Although trained lab rats are valuable, they’re not club members and are still expendable. My guess is they’ll wait a week or two to make sure there is no heat before putting him back to work. Maybe they’re looking to rent a new place for a lab.”

“Hope so. The clock is running,” added Connie ruefully.

“Did you hear the news on Faith?”

“Who?”

“Gabriel’s kid … cancer.”

Connie paused to let out a sigh before asking, “How bad?”

The pause gave Jack time to feel the rage simmer through his veins — his tendons and muscles going taut. For a brief second he allowed himself to fantasize that his hands were around Varrick’s neck, choking the information out of him.

“Did you hear me?” asked Connie.

“I heard you,” sighed Jack. “It’s bad. Could be terminal but they don’t know yet.”

“I really, really want to nail these guys.”

“Trust me, we will catch them. Justice will be served,” he said coldly.

Connie’s emotions were in turmoil when she hung up. She was saddened over the news about Faith, but at the same time, knowing Jack’s reputation, she believed the culprits would somehow be identified. Identified, perhaps. But with what evidence? And Jack’s definition of justice … hope to God it is not Jack whom I have to testify against.

The next month dragged by without any progress. Varrick continued to do menial chores around Headstones. Occasionally other men helped him and Jack and Laura photographed any of them who were new faces. Connie showed the photos to Gabriel and Noah, but none were recognized.

Sixteen days after Faith’s cancer had been identified, she underwent surgery. Phyllis called Jack to let him know that the surgery was partially successful.

“Partially?” asked Jack.

“They got most of it, but some wrapped around her spinal cord had to be left. The doctors are optimistic that radiation will get what they missed.”

“Think it would be okay if I paid Gabriel and her children a visit?” asked Jack.

“Give her a little more time,” said Phyllis. “She put her house on the market last week and it has already been sold. There’s a quick possession date. She has a lot on her plate right now. Don’t worry, I think she is starting to accept and even forgive the men responsible.”

“Forgive!” stammered Jack.

“It’s her belief in the Bible. She’s not as angry as she was. It’s a good thing.”

After Jack hung up, he thought about what Phyllis had said. Forgive? I’ll never forgive! His knuckles, still sore, made him realize he had unconsciously clenched his fists at even the suggestion of forgiveness.

Chapter Seven

Another couple of weeks rolled by without identifying Varrick’s accomplices. Connie called for a meeting with Jack and Laura at their office. She got right to the point as soon as she walked through the door.

“Okay, Jack. What’s going on? The wire expires on April third! That’s in two weeks! After that, Varrick goes to trial for the meth lab. You said the bikers would have him back in business soon. You call this soon?”

“Sorry, Connie. In the past they would have.”

“Yeah? So what’s changed?” asked Connie, violently shaking a chair to straighten the rollers before shoving it closer to Jack’s desk and sitting down.

“I’ve been trying to figure that out, as well. To take this long … the bikers are afraid of something. Maybe they’re protecting someone. Someone a lot more valuable than Varrick.”

“So what are you telling me?”

Jack shrugged and said, “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Maybe the bikers are protecting that dirty narc you told me about,” suggested Connie.

“Don’t think so,” replied Jack. “Two years ago we had a good informant in Satans Wrath who warned us we had the dirty narc. The bikers didn’t slow down after the last arrests. I think they’re protecting someone else.”

“Your informant didn’t know the narc’s name?” asked Connie.

“No. The narc was recruited by a biker in the club who goes by the name of Pussy Paul. Runs lots of hookers and strip joints. We’re looking for someone new. Someone who connected with Satans Wrath within the last two years.”

“Speaking of the earlier labs,” said Laura, “we tried to locate the lab rats from the other six labs that were busted. One is an unsolved homicide in Vancouver. He was found tortured and dropped in an alley.”

“Who would do that to a guy connected with Satans Wrath?” asked Connie.

“Satans Wrath would,” replied Jack. “Maybe they thought he was an informant, or perhaps got caught with his fingers in the till.”

“What about the other lab rats?” asked Connie.

“They’ve disappeared, as well,” replied Laura.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning they’re likely running labs someplace else,” said Jack. “Makes you wonder how many other innocent people are breathing in fumes from something they aren’t even aware of.”

“Then how can you be so damned calm?” asked Connie, as she glared at Jack. “Think about Gabriel’s kid —”

“You don’t have to remind me about Faith,” said Jack, quietly. “I think about her every day. If I hadn’t busted Varrick, she wouldn’t be sitting in a hospital with her hair falling out.”

Connie looked at Jack and caught the sombre reflection in his tone. I was wrong to think he is calm — cold and calculating is more like it …

“Don’t you have any other leads except Varrick?” interjected Laura. “Seems like we are putting all of our eggs in one basket.”

Connie sighed as she picked up a pen and unconsciously started slapping the edge of the desk. Staring blankly down at the pen, she didn’t look up to reply. “Nope. I’ve tried to get a description from anyone in the neighbourhood about what these other two look like. Nobody had anything of value. Talked to neighbours, delivery people … nothing.”

“What about the winos?” asked Laura. “If they were hanging around they might have seen people coming and going.”

“Already tried,” replied Connie. “I identified seventeen and we located all but three so far.”

“Pretty good, considering most of them are homeless,” noted Laura.

“Tell me about it,” continued Connie. “I found one who was asked to leave by Father Brown. He said Father Brown was a nice guy and wasn’t mean about it. I think the wino, as much as his soggy, drunken brain would allow, did his best to help. Unfortunately, he couldn’t even remember what day or even what week he had been there. He only knew it was Father Brown in the photo because of the small birthmark on his forehead. He never saw anyone else connected to the house except when a kid came out and threw some garbage in the can.”

“Probably Noah,” said Jack.

“You used to have an informant in the Satans Wrath,” said Connie, as she looked up and tossed the pen down. “Can’t you get another one? Or maybe talk to whoever used to help you?”

“That person repaid the debt owed to me. His loyalties are back with the club. All we would be doing is exposing our interest in Varrick. As far as getting an informant goes, it is rare to get one in the club. Our chances of getting one in The Brotherhood would be good, providing we can find someone connected with Varrick that could help us.”

“So we keep doing what we’re doing?” asked Connie. “I feel like we’re spinning our wheels and going nowhere.”

“If the bikers were going to cut Varrick loose, they would have already done so. They plan on using him, but are being unusually cautious.”

“Hope you’re right.”

The morning of April 1 arrived and Jack and Laura were on surveillance at Headstones. When Varrick left in the usual black pickup, he started driving aimlessly around some of the side streets in White Rock.

“He’s doing heat checks!” said Laura.

“Something’s up,” replied Jack. “See if anyone is around to help us. No use following him around in the residential area, we’ll only get burned. If he doesn’t come out, we can start a search later to see where he’s parked. Let’s set up on 152nd Street. That’s the usual route for him to take if he’s heading out. See if anyone is available to give us a hand. Get them to set up on 148th and 16th Avenue, as well.”

Laura grabbed the police radio and a marked police unit pretended to work radar while watching for Varrick’s truck.

Twenty minutes later, Jack and Laura saw Varrick driving northbound on 152nd Street and they followed. Minutes later, a couple more cars from Drug Section answered the call for assistance and joined in on the surveillance. They weren’t needed. Varrick believed he had cleansed himself of any possible police surveillance and drove directly to a small strip mall in Port Coquitlam. He parked his truck and got in the passenger side of a white van. The surveillance team followed the van as it left the mall.

Jack radioed in the licence plate and the registered owner turned out to be a young woman who did not have a criminal record and lived in a house in Abbotsford.

“Anyone get a look at the driver?” asked Jack, as he drove several cars behind in traffic.

“Ten-four,” replied a female voice. “Late twenties, bull-dog neck, bald, and wearing a gold fertility horn around his neck. Thought those things went out in the seventies,” she muttered.

Jack smiled and said, “Is that you, Tina?”

“Ten-four.”

“I owe you one. You just turned a cold investigation into a hot one.”

“Hey, they don’t call me the Asian Heat for nothing,” replied Tina.

Jack chuckled. Tina was an undercover operative who was good at her job. She didn’t look like a cop and was someone who could walk right past a target without them getting suspicious.

“He sounds like the one in Gabriel’s basement who called himself John,” said Laura.

Jack nodded and smiled with satisfaction. “Get the camera ready.”

The van was followed to a small, older-style home and Jack got his first glimpse of the driver as both men walked up to the front door.

“Know him?” asked Laura.

Jack shook his head and said, “He looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place him yet.”

An elderly woman answered the door and the van driver introduced her to Varrick. She handed a key to the driver and closed the door. Both men walked around to the rear of the house.

“Another basement suite,” noted Laura.

“There’s an alley in the back … limited parking, want us to risk it?” radioed Tina.

“Negative,” replied Jack. “Don’t want to heat them up. Everyone keep their distance. There is a third guy that we still need to identify so keep your heads up.”

Seconds later, both targets returned to the van while Laura discreetly stood between two houses across the street and snapped pictures. The van returned to the strip mall and Varrick went back to his truck.

The surveillance team followed the van to an apartment building where it pulled into a secure underground parking lot. It was not known which suite he went to and there were no names posted on the intercom system at the front door.

Later that afternoon, Jack called the surveillance off and returned to their office. Laura sent Connie the photos she had taken while Jack pulled out his laptop to study all the photos they had previously shown Gabriel and Noah.

Minutes later, Jack smiled and motioned for Laura to look at a particular picture. It was of a man with scraggly, long brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and sporting a bushy beard. Laura took several moments to look at the picture of the van driver and compare it to the photo on Jack’s laptop.

“It is him,” she breathed. “He’s changed his appearance a lot. No wonder Gabriel and Noah couldn’t recognize him. It’s a definite match.”

“David Zacharias,” said Jack. “Goes by Zack. Long record for drugs and a close associate of Satans Wrath.”

Within the hour, Jack received a call from Connie.

“The bald guy is him!” said Connie excitedly. I showed Gabriel the photos. She said there is no doubt he is the guy who said his name was John. Can we ID him?”

“Already done,” said Jack. “Meet us at our office and we’ll fill you in.”

By the time Connie arrived, Jack had discovered that the young woman who owned the white van was actually Zack’s sister and was married to a drug trafficker who had a record for dealing in methamphetamines.

“I don’t want these guys for dope,” growled Connie. “I want them for murder. Varrick is due to appear for his trial in two weeks and my wire runs out in two days. What can we do?”

“Put a bug in the place we found today,” said Jack.

“The landlady handed them a key,” said Connie. “Means they haven’t even moved in yet.”

“All the more reason to get the bug in quick before they do,” said Jack. “I’m free to work tonight if you want teams to sit on Varrick and Zack to make sure you’re not caught.”

“You forgetting there’s a person living upstairs?”

“She’s old,” replied Jack. “Probably doesn’t hear well. Tell the team to go in with stocking feet.”

“Yeah, well, even if we do get the bug in, what chance do you think there is that they’ll actually talk about the murder? Especially in the limited time we have left.”

“Maybe by then we can prove they’re setting up a meth lab and can get a new wire for that,” suggested Laura.

“Do you know the work involved to do that?” replied Connie. “Besides, proving it’s a meth lab won’t take long. If we keep a new wire running in the hope of getting evidence on a murder when the wire is for dope, then defence will claim we were on a fishing expedition and have it tossed out of court.”

“Quit being so pessimistic,” said Jack. “Get the bug in. I don’t care if it is only for a couple of days. I think they will talk about the murder.”

“What are you?” she snorted. “One of these guys who says the glass is half full?”

“Naw,” replied Jack. “Who cares if it’s half full or half empty. It’s just beer. Slam it back.”

Laura caught a glint in Jack’s eye. She knew he had a plan.

The investigators were successful in placing listening devices in the basement suite late that night. Neither Varrick nor Zack returned or did anything of significance for another two days. It was nine o’clock at night before Varrick retraced his steps from Headstones and once more met with Zack at the strip mall before returning to the basement suite.

Connie stayed in the monitoring room to listen to the recorders. She had three hours before the wiretap would be disconnected. Jack and Laura were on surveillance and saw the men unloading boxes from the van. By the sound of glassware and a few comments she heard, Connie knew that they were setting up another meth lab.

“Jack,” she radioed. “One of ’em said it was the last of the boxes. Also a comment about having a few days to set it up before they get the juice.”

“Copy that,” replied Laura in his place. “They’re likely referring to the chemicals they need.”

“They could be leaving soon,” replied Connie. She waited a moment for a response, but there was nothing but silence. “This is it,” she lamented over the radio. “Tonight is our last chance. At midnight we have to pull the plug.” She waited for a reply, but didn’t get one. “Jack? You there?” she asked.

Laura answered and said, “Jack left. You should hear his fist pound on their door any second.”

As if on cue, Connie heard a loud thump over the recorder, followed by Zack’s nervous whisper to Varrick, “Who the fuck is that?”

Connie let out an involuntary gasp as her stomach constricted. Her lungs froze and her mouth unconsciously dropped open as she strained to listen.

Chapter Eight

Several anxious seconds ticked past and Connie stared at the silent recorder. Is it working? Moments later, the sound of footsteps told her that it was.

“Who is it?” came Varrick’s voice. “Who’s there?”

Dead silence was followed by the sound of Varrick slowly opening the door.

“There’s nobody here,” he said. “What the fuck! Look what’s hangin’ on the knob!”

“A gold fuckin’ cross?” responded Zack.

Connie heard the door knob rattle slightly before the door was closed again.

“There’s a piece of paper tied to it,” said Zack.

“A fuckin’ gold cross,” muttered Varrick, sounding bewildered.

“Someone’s yankin’ our chain over that dead priest!”

“His was real gold,” replied Varrick. “This is painted wood.”

“Who the fuck put it on the doorknob? Read the note.”

Connie heard a rustle of paper and Varrick said, “God knows what you did and is waiting …” Varrick started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” demanded Zack.

“Cocktail is fuckin’ with us.”

“You see him out there?”

“No, but who else could it be?” answered Varrick.

“I thought he wasn’t gonna show up until another couple of days,” replied Zack.

“Come on,” laughed Varrick. “There’s nobody else it could be. It’s him, fuckin’ with us.”

“Then why isn’t he comin’ in to laugh at us?”

“Probably will in a few minutes.”

“Cocktail, you fuckin’ bastard,” grumbled Zack. “Man, what a fuckin’ night that was,” he added.

“Your fault for breakin’ the glassware,” said Varrick.

“It was you who cracked the door open for fresh air,” replied Zack.

“I didn’t know a fuckin’ nosy priest would be outside listening,” answered Varrick.

“He wasn’t listening when we saw him. Too busy talking to God.”

Varrick chuckled, but his voice became serious when he added, “Good thing Cocktail came along.”

“I guess,” replied Zack. “He wasn’t laughin’ then. Fuckin’ near shit when we helped drag him in by the ankles.”

“He’s gotta be laughin’ at us. Come on, let’s go find him. We’re done here, anyway.”

Connie closed her eyes for a moment. Jack, you did it. Split this case wide open.

Jack answered his BlackBerry and listened to Connie’s excited and happy voice as she relayed what had transpired.

“Bad news,” said Jack. “I don’t know anyone with the nickname of Cocktail.”

“You don’t? Crap … well, I’m sure we will. Man … fantastic! Don’t worry. With what we got tonight I won’t have any problem getting the wire renewed. They said Cocktail is coming by in a couple of days. Jack, I’m so happy I could kiss your sweet little ass.”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t think Natasha would,” said Jack, chuckling. “Also, it looks like we’ve got movement. Targets are leaving.”

“Maybe they’re going to meet with Cocktail,” suggested Connie.

“Maybe. Or someone will. The problem is what will they do when they find out it wasn’t Cocktail who hung the crucifix on their door?”

“Who cares?” replied Connie. “With what we’ve got on wire, this case is basically solved. Especially if we can lay a conspiracy charge. All we need is to identify Cocktail. Maybe tonight we’ll do that, too.”

Surveillance continued. Varrick retrieved his truck and went to Zack’s apartment building where Zack parked and got in with Varrick before driving to Headstones.

“I don’t like this,” said Jack as he and Laura parked in their usual spot to watch.

“Maybe they’re chatting with Cocktail,” suggested Laura. “If we scoop the plates, we might identify him tonight. What’s the worry?”

“The bikers kept these guys on ice a long time before deciding to set up another lab. I think they were protecting someone. Maybe Cocktail.”

“So? Your point being?”

“If Cocktail is really valuable, they wouldn’t risk having him go to Headstones. With what happened, Satans Wrath could be looking at Varrick and Zack as loose ends.”

“Oh, man.”

“Exactly.”

Numerous vehicles came and went from Headstones. Jack and Laura snuck around on foot and identified several licence plates belonging to prospective members of Satans Wrath as well as numerous other criminals. None were associated with any name or occupation that would warrant the nickname of Cocktail.

It was four o’clock in the morning when the lights went out at Headstones. Varrick’s truck remained parked.

“Maybe Zack decided to spend the night,” said Laura hopefully.

“Above ground or below, is the question,” replied Jack.

It was ten o’clock the next morning when Jack’s question was answered. He arrived at work and saw a computer message saying that a Detective Wilson with the Vancouver Police Department had checked Varrick and Zack for criminal records earlier that morning.

Previously, Jack had entered Varrick and Zack on the Canadian Police Information Centre computer. The CPIC entry was done in a manner so that whoever checked the names would not know Jack was interested, but a message would be sent to Jack advising him of who checked the names. It would be up to Jack’s discretion as to whether to inquire further. He decided to call.

“Homicide, Wilson,” answered a gruff voice.

Jack identified himself, already knowing what he was about to hear. “I got a silent hit on CPIC,” he said. “You ran two names this morning.”

“Herman Varrick and David Zacharias,” said Wilson.

“Both murdered?”

“Yup, I think it was murder,” replied Wilson. “Both found dead in an alley off of East Hastings about two hours ago. Time of death was about six hours earlier.”

“Shot?”

“Nope. Looks like heroin overdoses. A needle was still in Varrick’s hand. The thing is, neither had any tracks. Needles wasn’t their thing. You got something that can help us, one way or the other?”

Jack sighed. Do I tell them that it was me who got them killed? “Um, in my opinion it was not accidental,” replied Jack.

“Can you elaborate a little? Christ, if you’re right, we’re talking a double homicide here. Shit-rats or not, this landed on my desk. I want to solve it.”

“They were associated with Satans Wrath —”

“Shit,” said Wilson.

“And were in the process of setting up a meth lab,” continued Jack. “I think the bikers may have clued in that we were on to them.”

“So Satans Wrath severed the connection to protect themselves. Typical.”

“You got it. Varrick and Zack are … were of interest to I-HIT for another murder. I’ll get Connie Crane to call you and fill you in. She’s the lead investigator.”

Jack barely hung up the phone when it rang. It was Connie.

“Hey, Jack. Good going last night. How late did you sit on them?”

“The lights went out at Headstones at four this morning.”

“Zack stayed over too, did he?” noted Connie.

“His lights went out permanently around two. Same for Varrick.”

“This is all great,” said Connie, still filled with enthusiasm and not really listening. “I already spoke with PPSC. We’ll get an extension on our wire.”

“Connie, listen to me. I’ve got some bad news. Forget using Varrick and Zack to find Cocktail. We’ve hit a dead end as far as they’re concerned.”

“What are you talking about?”

“VPD found Varrick and Zack dead in an alley at eight o’clock this morning. Set up to look like heroin overdoses. They probably took them out of Headstones through the garage.”

“Oh, God, no …” Connie felt the depression settle over her like a lead blanket. My only leads to Cocktail are dead. Her mind felt numb as Jack told her about his conversation with Wilson. She twiddled her crucifix around and around with her thumb and forefinger as Jack spoke. Eventually the chain tightened around her neck and cut into the skin before she stopped.

“Are you listening?” asked Jack, moments after he quit speaking.

“Yeah, I heard you,” muttered Connie. “I was afraid this would happen.”

“You guessed that the bikers would kill them?” asked Jack.

“No. I knew when I called you into this case that I would end up with more bodies than I started with.”

“You haven’t. Varrick and Zack are VPD’s worry.”

“You tryin’ to be funny?”

“No, simply reminding you.”

“Of what?”

“To stay focused. Our primary objective is to find and identify Cocktail. Forget about Varrick and Zack now.”

“Yeah, but our evidence from last night’s wire is useless. Where do we go from here? And who is Cocktail? One of Satans Wrath?”

“I’ve never heard of him. I ran his name through the system. Nothing matched.”

“Varrick and Zack … you, uh, being straight with me on this?” asked Connie suspiciously.

“Hell, yes! I had no idea when I hung the crucifix on their door that it would get them killed. I figured the two of them were responsible for the murder. I was hoping to get them talking. I didn’t know they’d go looking for Cocktail.”

“Well obviously they did and he killed them, too.”

“I doubt that Cocktail killed them. I think Satans Wrath did it to sever the connection and protect Cocktail. He has to be a major player to have the bikers jumping through hoops for him.”

Connie’s sigh was audible.

“Sorry, Connie,” said Jack. “It was my fault. Last night I thought it was a good idea.”

“Yeah, well … shit happens. I’m not blaming you. If you hadn’t done it, we would be nowhere. At least we know who we’re after.”

“We’ll find out Cocktail’s real name,” said Jack, determinedly.

“That would be a start. Then we have to prove it. If he, or Satans Wrath, are jittery enough to whack Varrick and Zack, they’re not about to be giving us any proof. I’ll liaise with City and search their rooms where they were staying.”

“You’re dealing with Satans Wrath,” said Jack. “The rooms will have been cleaned out.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

After a moment of silence, Jack said, “How about we set up a meeting with the Organized Crime Task Force and go over everything. Laura called them and they said they have a report that puts Zack at a house party a few months ago. Mostly kids, from what I gather. It doesn’t seem significant, but let’s see what else OCTF has and find out who else was at the party.”

“Police work, all peaks and valleys,” mumbled Connie. “Riding high one moment and crashing the next.”

“We’ll solve this. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something.”

“Don’t worry? You tell me you’ll think of something and then say don’t worry! Last night you thought of something and we ended up with two extra bodies.”

“A consequence I didn’t predict. Who would have guessed? You didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, maybe this time it was accidental,” conceded Connie.

“What do you mean, this time?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Don’t push me.”

“Forget about Varrick and Zack. Stay focused on what to do next.”

“A double homicide and you say forget about them!”

“There is another person who could die yet. Worry about that one.”

“Another! Jack, what did I just say!”

“Faith.”

“Faith? In you? Listen you —”

“No, Faith! Gabriel’s four-year-old daughter. Will she die next?” Jack added harshly.

The mention of Faith shocked Connie and she was temporarily at a loss for words. After a moment, she heard Jack vow that they would identify Cocktail. She heard herself agree to attend the meeting with the OCTF and hung up.

Connie reflected on the cold tone of Jack’s voice when he spoke of Faith. If … when we identify Cocktail … then what? As of last night I thought I was working on three bad guys … with Jack on the case, two are already dead …

Chapter Nine

On Friday morning a meeting was held with Jack, Laura, Connie, and Dan Mylo from OCTF, in Jack’s office.

Dan outlined the gang wars in the lower mainland. “Province-wide,” he said, “we’ve identified 118 gangs. The Brotherhood was an amalgamation of what used to be a dozen independent gangs. The gangs grew larger, some incorporated with each other, and the amalgamation split when turf issues developed. Basically, The Brotherhood is currently divided into two factions, with an estimated three or four bosses on each side controlling their gangs.”

“No one guy has stepped up to take complete control, then?” asked Connie.

“Don’t think it’s that easy,” replied Dan, glancing at Jack. “I think a certain degree of political backing is required.”

Jack nodded in agreement and said, “The potential leaders are being watched and perhaps loosely guided by Satans Wrath. Although the leaders are adults in their twenties and thirties, the bulk of the membership are teenagers who were previously part of the independent youth gangs. They are violent, young, lack common sense, and have a total disregard for human life. They don’t care who might get in the way as is evidenced by all the drive-by shootings.”

“Which is our priority,” said Dan. “We’re spending all our time trying to take the guns off the street and work on the shooters.”

“Where do the shooters rank in the organization?” asked Connie. “I would think they would be revered as top dogs.”

Dan shook his head and said, “Not on the bottom, but not bright enough to ever be in charge. They’re mid-level status. At the moment, we’re too busy trying to keep a handle on them, let alone identify and work on the real leaders. Drug trafficking, prostitution, auto theft … all take a back seat to the indiscriminate shootings that are going on.” He looked at Jack and said, “Out of curiosity, do you think Satans Wrath could be instigating some of these shootings?”

Jack shook his head and said, “Satans Wrath aren’t impressed by indiscriminate shootings. It brings a lot of heat and is bad for business. At the same time, they appreciate the need to control and expand business. In some ways they’re in a catch-22 situation. They know that police resources are limited and that all these shootings will take the heat off of them. At the same time, they are losing money because of the turf wars and its negative effect on business. Until the turf wars are settled, I don’t think Satans Wrath will want to get too involved with who murders who. If history is any indicator, they will sit back and watch. Once the real victors are identified, they will step in and take over completely.”

“Gives the bikers a chance to see who is worth their salt,” concluded Dan.

“Exactly,” replied Jack. “I presume you have most of The Brotherhood listed on CPIC as persons of interest?”

“We do,” replied Dan.

“Could you include that I also be notified of any CPIC hits concerning them?”

“Consider it done,” replied Dan. “Hope you like to read. With the amount of people connected to gangs and their ability to attract police attention, you’ll be getting a lot of hits.”

The meeting adjourned with everyone agreeing to keep each other informed of anything that might benefit one another. Dan Mylo had no idea who Cocktail was and said it wasn’t a name that had come across any wiretaps or through any other sources. He provided a report from several months previous that showed Zack attending a noisy house party, but most of the people with him were teenagers who belonged to several different youth gangs.

After Dan left, Connie turned to Jack and said, “Any suggestions? It’s obvious that OCTF have their hands full already. I think we’re basically on our own.”

“One of the lab rats busted a year and a half ago has his trial in three weeks,” said Laura. “A fellow by the name of Kent Rodine. I talked to the narcs and they think the evidence is solid. Rodine was found inside the lab and his fingerprints are on the glassware. It’s a jury trial so you never know. If he does go free we could follow him to find out where he hangs his hat. See if he meets with Cocktail. If he doesn’t get off, maybe some of his friends will show up to see him off and we could follow them.”

“Three weeks!” said Connie. “On a case where they expect a conviction? I don’t want to rely on something that flimsy.”

Jack looked at Laura and said, “Let’s get more info on these gangs and watch how they deal. It might lead us to some of the labs.”

“I investigate murders, not dope dealers,” said Connie. “How do you go about it?”

“Through surveillance, arrests, informants —”

“I don’t have the time or the manpower for all that,” said Connie. “Even if I did, it would take a long time. Innocent people could be breathing in the fumes from these labs. There must be something we can do. Rodine and his buddies might not even be connected with Cocktail.”

“I don’t want to wait, either,” said Jack. “We need an informant on the inside.”

“Yeah, but how?” asked Connie. “You can’t exactly run an ad in the Vancouver Sun.”

“We need a clearer picture of what the meth situation is about,” replied Jack. “Meth is a massive problem. Did you know that B.C. currently supplies the majority of our planet in meth? Australia, Asia … you name it.”

“Heck of a thing for Canada to be known around the world for,” muttered Connie.

“We can thank our provincial judiciary for their leniency and lack of foresight for that,” replied Laura. “They aren’t known for seeing the big picture, are they, Jack?” She gave a wry smile at employing a phrase often used by Jack.

Jack shook his head and said, “We’re globally famous for both peacekeeping and supplying the world with methamphetamines. Hell of a combination. Men and women giving their lives for peace around the world while fellow Canadians destroy lives.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” said Connie. “Too depressing.”

“We do need to see the big picture,” said Jack, glancing at Laura. “We have to find out everything we can. I’ll check with Drug Section, VPD, and Toxicology to get info on anything to do with meth. This is the Easter long weekend. By Tuesday morning we should have enough reports to give us an idea of what is going on. Then we will target someone specifically. Maybe do a quick UC, buy some drugs and see if we can turn an informant. If we find one biker lab, surveillance may lead to more. Eventually we’ll find Cocktail.”

“Yeah … unless the bikers look at him as a loose end,” said Connie.

“If they did, VPD would have found his body in the alley alongside Varrick and Zack.”

“Too bad they didn’t,” replied Connie. “It would save us all a lot of time.”

“Starting to think like me?” said Jack with a smile.

“I hope not,” replied Connie, frowning.

“Even if he was dead, Satans Wrath would still have others running the labs,” said Laura.

The dismal tone of her voice brought a moment of silence as the investigators thought about the situation. The meeting came to an end with Connie agreeing to see what they could learn over the next few days.

On Friday night Jack and Natasha sat on the balcony of their condo overlooking the city lights while sipping on a glass of Glayva. Jack snuggled closer to Natasha on the love seat while swilling a taste of the Scotch-based liqueur around in his mouth. My life is great, he thought.

He glanced at his watch. It was nine o’clock. It was a moment in time that he would remember.

Ai-li Cheung walked over to lock the front door of their corner grocery store. Her husband, Frank, had already plodded upstairs to the second storey that was their home for the last thirty-seven years. The sound of the toilet flushing announced where he was.

Ai-li, at sixty-four years of age, was two months younger than her husband. They both planned to retire next year. Up until a few months ago, they always kept the store open until midnight, but the neighbourhood was not what it once was.

Port Coquitlam, less than an hour drive from Vancouver, was no longer a quiet neighbourhood where people knew each other. Shoplifters had become bolder. Empty beer and liquor bottles were often smashed in their small parking lot. Frank often threatened to call the police, but in reality, he was afraid that if he did, the store windows would be smashed in retaliation.

Times had changed from when they used to give free candy to neighbourhood children or run small grocery orders to some of the elderly who lived nearby. The elderly had moved on. Ai-li understood. She did not mind that they closed three hours earlier now. She was looking forward to the day they would close for the last time.

Ai-li was reaching for the door when it was yanked open in front of her. A tall, skinny man with droopy eyes stepped in, waving a syringe containing a bloodly liquid in her face.

“The money,” the addict said. He did not yell, but there was the sound of determination in his voice. “Or I’ll stick ya with this … and believe me, AIDS ain’t somethin’ ya want to have.”

Ai-li nodded her willingness to comply. She was too afraid to talk as she hurried to open the till. The addict followed, but remained on the opposite side of the counter.

“The money,” he repeated. “Hurry up.” He stared intently at Ai-li’s face as his body rocked back and forth.

Ai-li quickly took the money from the till and put it in a bag and pushed it toward him.

He remained rocking back and forth, staring at her.

“That’s all of it,” she whimpered.

He stared back at her in a stupor before his face contorted in rage. Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and plunged the needle into her arm, injecting the bloody liquid. “I told you to hurry!” he yelled, before letting go and stepping back, still holding the syringe.

Ai-li stood paralyzed in shock as the addict stepped back and waved the empty syringe in the air. The rage left his face and he said, “The money … or I’ll stick ya with this. AIDS ain’t somethin’ ya want …” He stared at the empty syringe and blinked his eyes in confusion.

Ai-li’s mouth hung open as she looked at her arm. “I did!” she cried, gesturing to the plastic bag.

Chapter Ten

On Tuesday morning, Jack listened to the details over the phone as the uniformed Mountie from Port Coquitlam told him about the robbery. As he listened, Jack thought about his own life and his time with Natasha on Friday night. Life can change in a heartbeat … value every second.

“Canine Unit tracked him down,” the Mountie said. “The guy does have AIDS, so I guess it’s a good thing the dog didn’t bite him.”

“AIDS cannot be transferred from an infected person to an animal,” replied Jack.

“Yeah? Good to know. Too bad it isn’t that way with people. Personally I cringe every time I have to arrest someone who is combative.”

“Don’t you pack a Taser?”

“Are you kidding? With the crap we get for using Tasers these days I’d be better off shooting them. Anyway, the guy wasn’t a problem. The asshole was so stoned he was lying in some bushes. Said he couldn’t remember if he dreamed he did it, or actually did. He had a small amount of meth in his pocket. CPIC says you are interested in him so —”

“Anyone talk to him to see where he got the meth?” asked Jack. “I’m trying to track down any labs or even rumours of labs at this point.”

“I don’t have any info on any labs,” replied the Mountie. “As far as where he got it from, you have to be kidding. Around here kids can buy that shit easier than they can cigarettes. If you want to know who the dealers are, go down to the schools and see who are driving the muscle cars. Sure as hell isn’t the teachers.”

“That’s a sad state of affairs.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve got kids of my own. As far as this guy goes, CPIC says he is gang-connected.”

“Bottom end,” replied Jack.

“You have time to work on the bottom end?” said the Mountie. “Must be nice, we don’t have the time or manpower to go after the bigger fish, let alone the small fry.”

“I understand,” replied Jack. He briefly thought about Varrick and his previous opinion that he was too small to work on. A four-year-old girl may die because I didn’t make the time.

When Jack hung up, he sighed as he thought about Ai-li. Bet she doesn’t think the guy who injected her was too small to work on …

Jack picked up the next report from a pile on his desk. It was about some youths were joyriding in a stolen car. They lost control and drove onto a sidewalk where a man was walking with his wife. He pushed his wife out of the way in time, but the car mutilated his legs against the side of a building. He would never walk again. The youths escaped, but a small quantity of meth was found in the car. The investigation was still continuing.

As Jack picked up the next report he glanced at Laura and their eyes met. “I don’t know how much more of this I can stand,” she said, gesturing to the reports. “Feel like a coffee?”

“You go ahead,” replied Jack. “To me, it’s like taking off a Band-Aid. Do you do it slowly or rip it off all at once? I prefer to get it over with.”

“Hadn’t thought of it that way,” replied Laura. She grimaced and continued reading.

Jack’s next report was about an incident in the early hours of Sunday morning. The police in Richmond were called by a husband to a domestic dispute. Their sixteen-year-old daughter, due home at midnight, arrived forty minutes late. His wife and daughter argued and the mother punched the girl in the mouth, breaking her tooth. The husband attempted to intervene, but his wife, who had prior convictions for prostitution and was addicted to meth, threatened him with a butcher knife. The man locked himself in the bathroom and used his cellphone to call the police. The mother was arrested and a small quantity of meth was found in her purse, along with a phone number for a known Brotherhood dealer.

Jack threw the report down in disgust and said, “A few years ago there were only a few labs. Today it’s everywhere. The Ministry of Health should list meth as an epidemic,” said Jack, facetiously.

“More like the World Health Organization should declare it a pandemic,” replied Laura. “You coming up with anything?”

“Nothing except a sour stomach. Doesn’t anybody care about what is going on?” he lamented.

“Someone does,” mused Laura. “I’ve got a Crime Stoppers report that indicates someone with a reliable history has been giving tips about drugs and dealers at Queen Elizabeth Secondary School in Surrey. Uniform has made several small-time busts.”

“Glad someone is doing their bit,” replied Jack, dismissing the information as his thoughts focused on the next report. A Dave Valentine of the Victoria Police Department had responded to the CPIC entry concerning one of the lab rats that Jack had arrested a year and a half ago. This particular lab rat was in jail, but Jack had listed him as a person of interest in the event he was granted day parole. Victoria PD reported they had heard he was receiving drugs while in jail through a Victoria dealer by the name of Cory McCall.

Jack called Valentine and learned that Cory McCall had a lengthy record, including seven previous drug convictions, three of which were for trafficking. He was currently on probation in Victoria and had only been released from jail the previous week. He was known to be a close friend of the lab rat and they had been in the same jail together.

“Cory isn’t a huge dealer,” said Valentine, “but he is a thorn in our side. Out only a week and we’re told he’s got dealers putting out for him all over town.”

“Meth?” asked Jack.

“No. Coke. Small amounts up to the pound level.”

“His friend in jail used to run a speed lab,” explained Jack. “Labs are what I am after. I’m trying to identify a person by the nickname of Cocktail who is connected with the labs and is likely working for Satans Wrath. Cocktail was involved in a murder of an innocent citizen who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Sorry, I don’t know of any labs and have never heard of Cocktail.”

“Any objection if I do a UC on McCall and try to turn him?” asked Jack. “If they were in jail together and are friends, McCall might know who Cocktail is.”

“I’d rather see the asshole busted and put back in jail. He has a dangerous reputation … but seeing as you’re talking about a murder, I don’t have any objections.”

“Good. Do you know where he hangs out at?”

“His dealers float around town, but usually on weekends McCall goes to a club in the basement of the Strathcona Hotel.”

“My partner and I will be over this weekend.”

“Like I said, he is dangerous. I think he has a screw loose. You’ll need a good cover team. We can help you with that.”

“Great. Really appreciate it.”

Jack’s next call was to Connie. She was in full agreement with the idea and reiterated that she was anxious to get something going rather than wait and take their chances when Kent Rodine went to court.

“This could be the one time the judge puts Rodine in jail,” said Connie. “Rolling McCall could be our best and maybe only option.”

At eleven o’clock on Friday night, Jack and Laura descended the steps below street level into the club beneath the Strathcona Hotel. They had seen a photograph of McCall and knew that he was tall, tattooed, and had used his time in jail to lift weights. He was someone who would easily stand out in a crowd.

Once Jack’s eyes adjusted to the dimness of the lights, he saw that the majority of the crowd were young people who appeared friendly and were there simply to have a good time. Many were university students while a few were tourists who were checking out the nightlife that Victoria had to offer. There was no sign of McCall.

“Music is a little loud,” commented Laura as they took a seat.

“I agree,” replied Jack. “Some say if the music is too loud it means you’re too old.”

“Don’t even go there,” replied Laura. “No sign of our friend.”

“It’s early yet.”

Over the next hour the crowd continued to swell. Jack and Laura discreetly watched and eventually identified two or three drug dealers who were making frequent trips to the washroom with some customers or simply doing exchanges under the tables with others.

It was one-thirty when they spotted McCall saunter in and sit with two of the dealers. Jack saw them whisper and both dealers handed money to McCall.

“Bingo,” said Jack. “Time to score.”

Jack waited and approached one of the dealers after he left McCall.

“Hey, I moved from Edmonton,” said Jack. “Don’t know anyone yet.” Jack touched his nostril and said, “Do you know where a guy could get something a little stronger than booze?”

The dealer stared at him briefly, sizing him up, and asked, “How much ya lookin’ for?”

“An eight-ball,” replied Jack.

“Meet me in the can in three minutes,” said the dealer.

The transaction went smoothly and the dealer sold Jack one-eighth of an ounce of cocaine. Five minutes later, Jack returned and sat with Laura.

They watched as the dealer returned and spoke with McCall. Over the next hour, three dealers periodically met with McCall.

Jack waited until he saw McCall walking back from the bathroom before approaching him and blocking his path. “I got something to say to you,” said Jack.

“Yeah?” replied McCall, staring down at Jack.

“The coke your guy sold me better be good or you’ll be losing a lot of business.”

McCall’s face showed instant rage and he said, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” replied Jack. “I’m in the business, too. I can see what is going on with the guys you got working for you.”

McCall stepped closer to Jack and cocked his fist. The violent response caught Jack slightly off guard and he could feel the spittle spray on his face as McCall spoke. “You shouldn’t be fuckin’ talkin’ to me! I just got out of jail two weeks ago! I don’t know you!”

“Yeah?” replied Jack calmly. “Well I don’t know you, either. But I want you to know that I’m looking for a steady connection so I can send good quantity back to Alberta. Right now I’m scoring small samples to see who has the best stuff. If your stuff is shit, then you’ll be losing a chance to be making big bucks down the road.”

McCall stepped back, panting heavily as he tried to decide whether Jack was a provocation or a business opportunity. Jack recalled the warning he had received earlier about McCall. He is dangerous … and unpredictable …

“What weight ya talkin’ about?” asked McCall.

Jack shrugged and said, “Well, as you said, I don’t know you, either. I’d prefer to start off small. Maybe a pound to begin with. If it is good and everything goes well, then I’d have no trouble handling a few keys every month.”

McCall said, “Well the stuff you got tonight has been stepped on, I’ll tell you that now. But if you’re buying quantity I won’t dilute it. How about we meet tomorrow around noon and I’ll sell you an ounce as a sample?”

Jack agreed and the following day he waited in an alley behind a Victoria restaurant. Eventually McCall arrived and motioned for Jack to get in his car. Jack complied and was not too concerned as Dave Valentine, along with several other members of the Victoria PD, were hiding in close proximity.

“You got it!” yelled McCall looking wild-eyed as Jack sat in the car and closed the door.

Jack wondered if McCall was planning on robbing him so he nodded toward his own car in the alley and said, “I’ve got my end together, how about you?”

McCall’s demeanour changed abruptly. “Yeah, right here,” he replied softly while reaching in his pants pocket to retrieve a small plastic bag of cocaine.

“A beautiful day,” said Jack, eyeing McCall curiously.

“Yeah, it’s nice here,” replied McCall. “You’ll like Victoria.”

Jack nodded and said, “Actually I’ve got the money with me.” He passed McCall a wad of cash and in return received the cocaine.

As McCall was counting the money a seagull flew low over the car and landed on the ground. “What the fuck?” screamed McCall. The muscles in his face twitched and he bounced around on the seat looking out all the car windows.

“Just a bird,” said Jack.

“Oh,” replied McCall as he started counting the money over again.

“So this stuff is good?” said Jack. “Better than what you sold me last night?”

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t step on it at all.”

“You do some yourself?” asked Jack, wondering if cocaine was responsible for McCall’s mood swings.

“Fuck, no. Don’t do dope.”

You act this way without being on drugs? You are nuts …

“You do dope?” asked McCall.

“Nope. That’s for chumps. I’d rather make money.”

“That’s how I look at it, too.”

Jack returned to his own car and watched as McCall drove slowly down the alley, but before reaching the end he abruptly stepped on the gas. His tires squealed as the car burst wildly out of the alley and onto the street before disappearing amongst a honking of horns.

Moments later Jack met with Laura and members of the Victoria PD.

Jack turned over the plastic baggie of cocaine to Valentine and said, “This guy is dangerous.”

“I know. I warned you.”

Jack looked at Laura and sighed.

“What is it?” she asked.

“In all good conscience I don’t think we should give McCall the opportunity to stay out of jail.”

Laura stared briefly at Jack and said, “It’s your call. I respect your opinion on that. Connie won’t be happy.”

“Neither will some citizen when they cross paths with McCall. He’s a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.” Jack looked at Valentine and said, “Bust him. I’ll testify when the time comes.”

Later, Jack called Connie.

“How did it go?” she asked. “Did he roll? Does he know who Cocktail is?”

Jack sighed and said, “Sorry, Connie. For your investigation, consider McCall a dead end. He’s too dangerous. I’m not giving him the opportunity to talk. We’ll need to find some other way to pursue this.”

“What are you talking about? We need to identify Cocktail!”

“I know that,” replied Jack as he hung up.

Chapter Eleven

On Monday morning Jack received an unexpected call from Gabriel Parsons, inviting him over for tea.

“I don’t know if you know,” said Gabriel, “but we’ve moved to a new home in Richmond. Well … not exactly new. About the same as our other place, but new to us. A new start, I pray.”

That was fast, thought Jack, before realizing three months had passed since Father Brown was murdered. Three months and we’re no further ahead …

Jack arrived at the new address and Gabriel invited him inside for tea and freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies.

“I wanted to apologize,” said Gabriel. “I believe I was rude to you when … well, when we first met. I was blaming you for allowing these men to make drugs in my basement.”

“I’m the policeman, not the judge who let them out,” said Jack.

“I realize that. I also spoke with my neighbour before I moved. Was it you who came and cleaned the back of my house?”

Jack nodded and recalled the numerous sprays of blood that he had scrubbed off. It made him conscious of how much time had passed while a monster remained on the loose.

“That was a very Christian thing to do. Out of curiosity, what church do you belong to?”

“I’m an atheist.”

“Oh … I see,” replied Gabriel, with a frown.

“How is Faith?” asked Jack, intentionally changing the subject.

“She’s still in hospital. She has one more round of radiation to go. The doctor seems optimistic. I have been praying that God does not take her from me this soon.”

“And your son? How is he doing?”

“Noah is … well, he’s had to adjust to a new school. He’s been fighting. I think he is angry at the world. He and Father Brown were close. It was like he lost his father all over again. At least the doctors say he is healthy.”

“Would you like me to talk to him?”

“Thank you, but no. Together, our faith in God will see us through these troubled times. The school counsellor is also involved.”

“I see. And your daycare? Have you started up again?”

“I have one dear little toddler for three days a week when her mother works. Hopefully more will come later. All of my previous clients have taken their children elsewhere. I can’t blame them, I suppose.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Gabriel shrugged off his comment and said, “I also have a basement suite, but have been afraid to … well, after last time ... would you happen to know anyone? Perhaps a young police officer or someone who would be interested?”

“Not offhand, but I will ask around,” replied Jack.

The rest of the visit went well, but Jack felt mixed emotions when he left. He was relieved that Gabriel was not blaming him, but at the same time he spotted a photograph of Faith and felt frustrated that he was no closer to identifying Cocktail than he was months earlier.

Two more weeks passed with little activity until the day that Kent Rodine appeared for his trial over his charges stemming from when seven labs were raided. Jack and Laura, both parked outside the courthouse, waited for a call from one of the Drug Section investigators. The call came early in the afternoon.

“Jack. Sammy here. You wouldn’t believe the performance. Rodine’s girlfriend looks like she’s going to give birth any moment. They were being all kissy-face and he was patting her stomach. Once, when Rodine was being cross-examined I think she had a contraction. The jury couldn’t take their eyes off of her.”

“Do you know her name?”

“I heard the lawyer refer to her as Miss Venice when he asked if she was okay.”

“Is the jury still out?”

“No, they’re back already. It’s the fastest I’ve seen a jury reach a decision. Guess they didn’t want to watch a baby being born in front of them. No big surprise, they found Rodine not guilty. Didn’t matter that his fingerprints were on the glassware. Good news for you, but to me the whole thing sucks.”

“You got an eye on them?”

“Yeah, they should be coming out soon. He groomed for court and is clean shaven with short hair and wearing a blue, pin-striped suit. She is as big as a house. You can’t miss them. Hang on … the lawyer is walking with them. You should see all of them in about half a minute.”

“Who is the lawyer?” asked Jack.

“A biker lawyer. Basil Westmount.”

“Same one that Varrick had,” replied Jack. “That’s a good sign. Could mean that Rodine is close to Satans Wrath.”

“Good luck.”

Rodine, Venice, and Westmount left the courthouse together and walked to a nearby lounge. Jack and Laura walked in as their targets sat down in a booth. Connie, along with several other I-HIT members, remained outside to continue the surveillance when they left.

Although the lighting was dim, there were no other customers and Jack knew that they could not sit beside them in the next booth and listen without attracting attention.

“What do you figure?” whispered Laura. “Maybe we should wait outside.”

“I’d like to know if Cocktail’s name comes up,” replied Jack.

“They’ll burn us if we try to listen in on —”

“Come on,” said Jack, taking Laura by the hand and walking over and sitting at the booth adjoining Westmount, Rodine, and Venice. Westmount, who had been talking, became quiet as soon as Jack and Laura sat down. Laura looked at Jack and grimaced.

“Let’s sit farther back where it’s darker,” said Jack, standing up. “Your hubby works around here. If he walks in, it’s better if we see him first.”

Westmount watched quietly as Jack and Laura moved to a table farther away before resuming their conversation. Rodine and Venice did not seem to notice and were still excited from their victory in court.

“Told you sitting next to them wasn’t a good idea,” said Laura.

“Guess you were right,” replied Jack.

“Oh, man,” muttered Laura. “Venice ordered a beer. I want to go over there and tell her off.”

“And you thought sitting next to them would heat us up,” replied Jack. “Forget that idea.”

After three drinks each and an hour later, Rodine, Venice, and Westmount left the lounge. Jack was glad that neither man gave them a second look. His actions earlier hadn’t caused them concern.

Laura used her BlackBerry to call Connie. “Got ’em?” Laura asked.

“Ten-four,” replied Connie. “They meet anyone?”

“No. Jack and I will have to play catch-up.” As she spoke, Laura saw Jack go over to the bench that Westmount had been sitting on. Laura continued to talk to Connie and said, “We’ll call you when — oh, man!”

“What is it?” asked Connie.

Laura watched as Jack bent over and retrieved an object from under the bench.

“Laura? What’s wrong?” asked Connie.

“Uh … nothing. Almost broke a nail.”

By the time Jack and Laura returned to their car, Connie called to say that Rodine and Venice had said goodbye to Westmount and were getting in a car. The car was registered to a low-level drug trafficker in Richmond. Jack wondered if the car was “loaned” because the owner was behind on a drug payment. Not an uncommon practice in the drug business.

As Laura wheeled through traffic to catch up to the surveillance team, she said, “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

“Hear it?”

“Your voice-activated recorder. Smooth, I didn’t see you do it.”

“Taping Rodine without a judge’s order … Laura, I’m aghast. That would be illegal.”

“It would be illegal, anyway. Conversation with his lawyer is privileged.” She snapped, “Quit pretending! I saw you go back to where Westmount was sitting.”

“This is strictly between the two of us,” said Jack, as he took the recorder out of his jacket.

“It had better be,” said Laura seriously.

“We listen once and I erase it.”

“Erasing a problem is easier than burying it in a cemetery,” replied Laura.

Jack put his finger to his lips, gesturing to Laura to be quiet as he played back the recorder.

The first conversation they heard was Venice laughing as she said, “Well, do you think it’s time for me to give birth to an eight-pound pillow?”

“I would prefer if you waited until you were back in the car,” said Westmount. “I wouldn’t like to take a chance that we run into the judge or juror members when we leave.”

“If you insist,” giggled Venice. “How was my performance?”

“Outstanding,” said Westmount. “I’m tempted to hire you for other cases. Next time maybe you could babysit someone’s infant and bring it to court.”

“You think I’m that good?”

“You were really good, honey,” said Rodine.

“Cute touch on your part, too,” said Westmount, “by patting her stomach.”

Jack paused the recorder and said, “And you thought she was going to be a bad mother. Jumping to conclusions like that. Shame on you,” he said, with mock admonishment.

“I don’t know whether to be happy that she isn’t pregnant or angry at her deceit.”

Jack clicked the recorder back on. The rest of the conversation was uneventful up until Westmount ordered the bill from the waiter.

“Speaking of bills,” said Westmount, “do you want to pay me now? I never know where to send your invoice.”

“Tomorrow is Friday, which is delivery day for me,” replied Rodine. “I’ve got the ol’ cookie sheets full. Tomorrow morning I’ll bag and deliver. I can bring you the cash then.”

“I’ve got a trial scheduled for ten tomorrow morning,” replied Westmount.

“Not a problem. I’ll be on the road by six. Gotta have it delivered by eight. I could still make it to your office by nine.”

“Perfect,” replied Westmount. “I’ll give you the invoice then.”

“Wish the invoice really matched what I have been paying you,” grumbled Rodine.

“Hey, we talked about that. I’ve warned you that leaving a paper trail could put you in jeopardy if they ever go after you with a proceeds of crime investigation.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” chuckled Rodine. “You’re saving yourself from paying taxes.”

“Okay, so our partnership is of a mutual benefit. Besides, you’re a fine one to talk about paying taxes. At least I pay some.”

“I would pay taxes, but I’m still waiting for my T-4s to arrive.”

The conversation ended in laughter. Jack looked at Laura to see what she was thinking. Her smile said it all.

“We better not lose them,” said Jack.

“With the army that Connie has out?” replied Laura. “They better not. Too bad we can’t tell her what we heard.”

“Let her worry. I told her this case would take time.”

“As long as it’s not us doing time,” shot back Laura, with a nod toward the recorder in Jack’s hand.

The surveillance team followed Rodine and Venice to an older home in Burnaby. As the surveillance team waited, Connie got in the back seat of Jack and Laura’s car.

“Figure he might have a lab in there?” asked Connie.

“Time will tell,” replied Jack.

Over the next couple of hours, numerous people showed up and most were carrying in cases of beer and liquor.

“Celebrating his court case,” said Jack. “He won’t have a lab in there.”

“Christ, we need something,” said Connie. “You think we’d make a green light sooner or later. I’m getting sick of all these dead ends. What if he’s not even in the meth business anymore? Then what the hell —”

“Trust me,” said Jack. “He’s still in business.”

“You sound very confident,” said Connie, leaning forward in an attempt to see Jack’s face.

“Guys like this don’t quit,” he replied.

“Oh,” she said and sat back in the seat.

Over the next couple of hours a few more people arrived, but from the licence plates gathered, most appeared to be petty criminals or small-time drug traffickers.

At midnight Connie looked at her watch and said, “Guess there is no sense wasting manpower. I think I should call it off. With all the booze going in there, I bet he sleeps the day away tomorrow. I’ve still got a court brief I have to study tonight for a trial tomorrow morning. Maybe we can sit on Rodine again tomorrow night or the next day.”

“Uh … I’ve known some of these guys to be early risers,” said Jack.

“Really?” replied Connie. “Most of the criminals I know sleep until at least noon. What are you trying to pull?” she asked suspiciously. “Hoping to gaff a bunch of overtime?”

“No, I’m serious,” replied Jack. “With labs, sometimes certain chemicals have to be added at specific times. I think we should stay on him for at least forty-eight hours straight.”

“You shitting me?”

“Jack is right,” said Laura. Considering the time he spent in court, if he has a lab … and I’m sure he does, he’ll have to check it soon.”

“Put it this way,” said Jack. “Laura and I are going to sit on him all night, but it is your case. If he goes mobile and we lose him, it will be your fault.”

“Don’t you two ever sleep?” Connie asked.

“We take turns sleeping in the car,” replied Laura.

“Okay,” sighed Connie. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll leave two guys behind tonight and will put a full team back on at eight tomorrow morning. That good enough for you?”

“Guess it will have to be,” replied Jack reluctantly.

Connie got out of the car and closed the door, but paused before turning and knocking on Jack’s window. When he opened the window she leaned in to look at their faces. “Anything you’re not telling me?” she asked.

“Nope,” they both replied in unison.

“Yeah … that’s what I thought,” she said. “I’ll leave you four people instead of two.”

“Hope she never switches over to Internal,” said Jack, as they watched Connie walk away.

At six o’clock in the morning Jack reached into the back seat and shook Laura awake and said, “He’s out to the car. We’re about to be mobile,” he added, while reaching for the police radio to alert the others.

For the next half-hour, Rodine drove in and out of parking lots while constantly monitoring his rear-view mirror. Eventually he headed off and at seven o’clock he drove down an alley behind an older house in Burnaby and pulled up to an attached garage.

“Has to be the lab,” said Laura.

“Can’t see him driving in circles for any other reason,” replied Jack, while wiping the sleep from his eyes.

The police radio squawked again to announce that Connie had arrived at work. “I hear you guys are mobile. What’s going on?”

“He did a bunch of heat checks and we followed him to a dumpy old house in Burnaby. Close to the PW Brewery.”

“Think it’s a lab?”

“Good chance.”

“Did he switch vehicles like Varrick did?”

“No, but the car he’s driving isn’t registered to him.”

“I need grounds for a warrant. Can you smell anything indicating chemicals?”

“All I smell is the brewery.”

“My court case isn’t until ten. I’m on my way.”

Rodine was in the house half an hour before driving away. The surveillance team followed him to a six-level apartment building in White Rock and watched him park out front.

“Anybody able to go on foot and walk in with him?” radioed Connie.

Jack and Laura drove past the front of the building and Jack quickly grabbed the radio. “Cancel that,” he ordered. “There’s someone standing six in the lobby. Two more punks are walking out front. Everyone stay back.”

“What is this place?” asked Laura. “The Canadian Mint doesn’t have this much security.”

Jack didn’t respond as he was busy copying licence plates into his recorder as they drove down the block.

Seconds later, Rodine returned to his car, only to drive into the apartment’s underground parking garage. Five minutes later he drove back out onto the street and was followed to downtown Vancouver. After stopping at Basil Westmount’s office, he returned home.

Connie remained in Vancouver for her court case. It was later adjourned so she returned to where the surveillance team was parked at Rodine’s house. Connie got in the back seat of Jack and Laura’s car as Jack was calling in the licence plates he’d recorded from the apartment building.

Many of the plates were associated to gang members in The Brotherhood. Jack’s next call was to Dan Mylo in the Organized Crime Task Force who said that the apartment building was of particular interest. The apartment manager was a man by the name of Sy Sloan, who was the leader of one of the gangs.

“We think Sy controls the whole building as far as who is allowed to live there,” said Dan. “Sy is out of shape, but he is monstrous in size and looks intimidating. The apartment building is like a fort. He picks and chooses who lives there. You won’t get inside without them knowing. All the straight citizens have been driven out.”

“You have any wire on the occupants?” asked Jack.

“Not at the moment,” replied Dan. “Not enough grounds. If you can help us in that regard it would be much appreciated.”

“I think Rodine is delivering meth to someone in the apartment, but I don’t know who.”

“That’s the problem we’ve been having. We’ve had targets come and go, but once they’re inside that place, who knows what is going on or who they’re meeting,” said Dan.

“We need an informant,” said Jack.

“That we do, my friend, that we do.”

Jack hung up and told Laura and Connie what he had learned.

“Figure Rodine is delivering meth to The Brotherhood?” asked Connie.

“Positive,” replied Jack. “My guess is he got paid for it and then went and paid his lawyer.”

“Think maybe we should bust him next time and see if he’ll talk?” suggested Connie.

“He won’t talk,” replied Jack. “There is no incentive. Not with what he would get in court. Satans Wrath would deal out a far worse punishment. Plus we don’t have grounds to stop and search him. His first call would be to Basil Westmount.”

“Maybe you could make a UC buy from him?”

“This guy is a cook, not the dealer. Besides, even if I did, there is no incentive strong enough for him to talk.”

“Isn’t there something we can do?”

“We should do surveillance on the apartment building,” said Jack. “Figure out who more of the players are. We could get lucky. Maybe Cocktail lives in the building or visits here.”

“If we get lucky … but then what? I need evidence. Bullshit gossip doesn’t stand up. Hang on, I’m calling PPSC to see what my chances are of getting a wire on Rodine.”

Connie spoke for several minutes with a Crown Prosecutor before hanging up. She was quick to the point. “Goddamn it! Goddamn it! God-damn it! He says I don’t have grounds for either a search warrant or a wire …” She drove her fist into the back of the seat and said, “Christ this is bullshit. We don’t even know if his place near the brewery is a lab.”

Jack made eye contact with Laura and stared silently at her as Connie complained. Laura paused for a moment before giving a subtle nod.

“We’re all tired,” said Jack. “Let’s go home early and reintroduce ourselves to our spouses.”

“The day has turned out pretty good,” said Laura. “We’ve discovered his lab and know what apartment building he is delivering it to.”

“We only think we’ve discovered his lab,” replied Connie. “And what good is that if Rodine won’t talk? We don’t even know if he knows Cocktail.”

“As I said,” repeated Jack, “we’re all tired. A few days of surveillance on Sy and his people could turn up something.” He turned and stared at Connie and said, “Trust me, we will come up with something. I’m nauseated from the reports rolling in every day on what meth is doing to people. A lot of innocents are getting hurt.”

“Hope you don’t think I’m blaming you,” said Connie. “I feel so frustrated. Maybe a good night’s sleep would help.”

It was two o’clock in the morning when Jack took the small leather case out of his jacket pocket. Laura, holding a flashlight, stood quietly as Jack picked the lock. When the door opened, they caught the strong smell of an odour that they knew did not come from the brewery. Seconds later, their sense of smell had been annihilated. It would be several hours before they would be able to smell again.

“Not healthy in here,” whispered Laura.

“I know. A quick peek and we’re gone.”

The first room was a kitchen with an old table and chrome chairs with ripped plastic seat cushions. Down the hall was a bedroom. The door was open and Jack could see a grubby mattress lying on the floor. Opposite the bedroom was another door that was closed. Laura shone her flashlight on the door and Jack saw a picture of a small animal.

“What’s that?” he said.

“It’s a picture of a hamster,” replied Laura. “Gee, it’s really cute.” Her mind came back to the reason they were there and she gestured to the door. “What do you think?”

“The lab room in Gabriel’s basement had something taped to the outside of the door,” said Jack. “About the same size. The room was also booby trapped.”

“You think the hamster is a terrorist?”

“I don’t know what the picture has to do with it. He does have beady eyes.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“He has whiskers.”

Laura snickered and said, “Well, one thing is for certain. You’ve convinced me not to open this door. From what we smelled when we first came in, we know the lab is here.”

“I’d feel better if I could see it,” replied Jack. “Go back and wait. I’ll be done in a second.”

“No! You come, too. I’m not bringing you home to Natasha in a garbage bag.”

Jack chuckled and said, “The booby trap was dismantled at Gabriel’s, but they left behind some eyehole screws above the door. I’m sure you can open the door a little to turn it off, but I want you to go.”

“I’ll stay and hold the light,” she replied.

“I’ll hold it in my mouth. Get out of here.”

“If you think it is safe enough for you, then it is safe enough for me.”

“You’re really stubborn, do you know that?” said Jack in exasperation.

“Must be contagious. Hurry and get it over with.”

“Okay, but at least stand to one side … and there won’t be any hurrying,” replied Jack, as he slowly turned the door knob. They both winced as the door clicked open a crack.

“I’m going to hold the door steady,” said Jack. “Shine the light at the top of the jamb.”

Laura did as instructed and Jack saw a slim metal lever extending up from the far side of the top of the door. He ran his fingers up the piece of metal and detected a strand of wire passing along the far side. He gently pushed on the side of the metal lever until it moved below the height of the wire. After exhaling audibly, he slowly pushed the door open.

The room contained the lab. The wire wound its way through a couple of eyehole screws to a large glass carboy filled with liquid. There were several benches containing glassware and numerous bottles of chemicals. A wooden rack contained numerous cookie sheets with traces of white powder. “Don’t think that was cookies he was making,” commented Laura.

“We’ve seen enough,” said Jack. “Too bad we have to keep this to ourselves.”

Over the next few days, the surveillance team discovered that Rodine would go to the meth lab during the day, only to return home at night where he and Venice would spend their time watching videos.

It was Thursday afternoon and a week had passed since Rodine had won his court case. As usual, Connie sat slumped in the back seat of Jack and Laura’s car where they were parked down the street from Rodine’s house. Her disposition had become grumpier as the days passed.

Occasional surveillance of The Brotherhood apartment building identified numerous criminals coming and going, including three prospects for Satans Wrath. Nobody had any name or occupation that would warrant the nickname of Cocktail. Jack believed that Rodine was the key and surveillance concentrated on him.

“He’s not meeting anyone,” said Connie. “At least no asshole by the name of Cocktail that we know of. Maybe we should follow the prospects from Satans Wrath.”

“Those guys are too well trained to lead us to Cocktail,” replied Jack. “Relax, I’ve got a plan to get an informant. Hopefully soon.”

“What? This is the first I’ve heard of it,” said Connie. “Who? How —”

“Who is on a need to know basis. Sorry, at the moment you don’t need to know. It would be better in court if you never knew.”

“I suspect there are a lot things where it would be better if I didn’t know about you two,” said Connie. “Dare I ask how you’re going to do it?”

Jack remained silent.

“Okay,” said Connie. “Never mind … just do it.”

After Connie left, Jack looked at Laura and said, “You free for a date with me tonight?”

“Sure. You buying dinner?”

“Only if you like baking soda.”

“You’ve piqued my curiosity. Who is this new informant?”

“Rodine … if he lives.”

Chapter Twelve

On Friday morning, the surveillance team watched Rodine make another trip to The Brotherhood apartment. Minutes later, he returned home.

“Nothing changes,” said Connie.

“Nice to confirm he has a schedule,” noted Jack. “You’re right, though. No use wasting manpower. Last Friday and Saturday he spent all day at home. Let’s break off the surveillance. I’m sure you have things to do and Laura and I need to do some things.”

“Things like working on getting an informant?” asked Connie, hopefully.

“Exactly.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ve got a ton of paperwork and an upcoming trial to prepare for. Call me if you need a hand.”

Jack and Laura drove away as Connie broke off her surveillance team.

“Thought you would want to stay around for the action,” said Laura.

“I want Connie to think we left. She’s too ethical. If the bikers realize they bought baking soda and show up and decide to torture and possibly kill him, I don’t want to take a chance on Connie putting a stop to it.”

“Good chance they might kill him.”

“I hope they don’t because we would need to find another informant, but if they do, it seems like a fair punishment for running a meth lab.”

“I agree, so don’t be hauling out any pictures of Faith in the hospital or something. I couldn’t stand it.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Only because you knew I would be on board with this. Rodine’s girlfriend is in there. It could be a double murder. Did you think of that?”

“She put herself into this. If you fly with the crows —”

“If they’re both killed, Connie will blame us.”

“Act surprised … show concern … deny, deny, deny. It was an unfortunate coincidence that we broke off surveillance.”

“She won’t believe that for a second.”

“I know, but she won’t be able to prove anything.”

Minutes later, Jack and Laura returned and parked where they could watch the front of Rodine’s house with binoculars.

The hours slowly ticked by. Once, Venice, wearing a pink tank top and skin-tight blue jeans over her thin figure, strolled outside and picked some flowers growing near the house and went back inside.

Late in the afternoon a black SUV arrived and three prospects from Satans Wrath got out and approached the house.

“Showtime,” said Jack. He was unable to see who answered the door, but he did see one of the bikers deliver a fist to the person’s face before all three disappeared inside.

“Ouch,” said Laura, watching through her own set of binoculars. “No hello, how are you, nothing …”

Twenty-five minutes passed before the three bikers left the house and drove away.

“They left Rodine and Venice in the house,” noted Laura. “Maybe a good sign.”

“That and they didn’t light the house on fire. I’m betting things went according to plan.”

Minutes later, the front door opened and Rodine limped out onto the porch landing.

“Broken nose,” commented Jack, looking at the blood streaming down the front of Rodine’s shirt. “Holding his side … maybe broken or cracked ribs.”

“Heading for his car,” said Laura.

“Oh, crap,” interjected Jack sadly, more to himself than Laura.

“What?”

“Check the porch … Venice came out … she wants him to stay.”

Laura focused back on the porch. She saw why Jack was distressed. Venice clutched a bathrobe to her naked body. She had received more than a beating.

Jack and Laura followed Rodine as he drove back to his lab.

“Rush order, I bet,” said Laura.

“Will take a couple of days,” replied Jack. “Starting Sunday we’ll check every night.”

“We’re taking tomorrow off? I won’t know what to do,” teased Laura.

“Do you remember Ngoc Bích?”

“Of course. Your Vietnamese friend. Isn’t the trial coming up soon on the two brothers who owned the brothels?”

“It got moved to June 15. The same day I’m scheduled to testify in Victoria against Cory McCall.”

“It will be good to put McCall away. Sounds like you and Ngoc Bích will have something to celebrate that day, as well.”

“Hope there are no more adjournments with Ngoc Bích.”

“How has she been doing?”

“She’s a bit like a wounded bird, but is slowly getting it together. Good days and bad. She’s been enrolled in music lessons since we rescued her. She plays a flute.”

“Probably therapeutic,” said Laura.

“Tomorrow she is giving a free performance in Stanley Park at noon.”

“Elvis and I will be there,” said Laura.

“Natasha and I were going to bring a picnic lunch.”

“Sounds good. I’ll give Natasha a call after and we can figure out what to bring.”

The following morning, Jack walked out of the shower and saw Natasha lying naked in bed with a sheet pulled up to the bottom of her navel. She was performing her monthly ritual of doing a self-examination of her breasts as she carefully checked for any lumps.

“Wish you would teach me how to help you with that,” said Jack, marvelling at how beautiful she looked.

Natasha looked up at him and said, “I did try to teach you once. As I recall, you became sidetracked.”

“Sometimes I have a hard time with concentration.”

Natasha continued her exam, but quit a moment later and said, “Quit staring at me! I can’t concentrate.”

“I bet you’re remembering the last time I tried to help you,” said Jack, teasingly.

Natasha paused, furrowing her forehead as if trying to remember, before saying, “That was a long time ago.” She smiled and said seductively, “My memory could use refreshing.”

Jack felt the blood pulse to his groin. No further invitation was needed.

Later that afternoon, Jack and Natasha and Laura and Elvis sat on a blanket in Stanley Park and listened to Ngoc Bích play her flute.

“She plays beautifully,” commented Natasha, sitting with her back pressed up against Jack’s chest.

Jack wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the back of her neck. The day was captured in his memory as one of the most beautiful he’d ever had.

When Ngoc Bích was finished, she joined them for the picnic and received a bouquet of red roses as a gift from Jack and Natasha. The afternoon was warm, sunny, and peaceful. Jack was glad that Ngoc Bích did not discuss the upcoming trial scheduled for the following month. Everyone needed the break.

Sunday morning came and Jack read the newspaper. He wished he hadn’t. An article reported a young man being randomly attacked outside a grocery store by four guys who slashed his face with a knife. The attackers were alleged to be high on meth.

“Something wrong?” asked Natasha. “You’re frowning.”

Jack sighed and said, “Laura and I hope to turn an informant this week. The guy runs a meth lab. If he co-operates, I’m going to have to allow him to continue running his lab. At least for a while.”

“For the greater good, I presume. The big picture.”

Jack smiled, despite how he felt. “You sound like Laura.”

“Maybe we sound like you.”

“Maybe,” said Jack, tossing the paper aside.

“Yesterday was really a perfect day,” said Natasha. “Romantic.”

Jack smiled. It had been good to see how far Ngoc Bích had recovered from her months of torture. The delay in the trial only gave her time to get stronger. He knew she was looking forward to her day in court and confronting the monsters responsible.

His thoughts turned to Faith and he knew there was another monster to catch.

Chapter Thirteen

Kent Rodine’s next batch of methamphetamine was on the drying racks Tuesday night. At seven o’clock Wednesday morning he returned to his lab and used the privacy of the garage to load the kilos of meth into the trunk of his car. As he raised the garage door to leave, a man with a gun shoved him violently against his chest, knocking him back onto the trunk of the car. At the same time, another car pulled in and parked in the driveway.

Seconds later, Rodine was handcuffed and sprawled over the hood of his car. He watched sullenly as Jack opened the trunk and retrieved one of the kilos. Laura, standing with her pistol pointed at the base of Rodine’s neck, quietly stepped back as Jack approached.

“Got some good news and some bad news for you, Kent,” said Jack. “Bad news is we’re seizing all the dope from your car. Good news is we’re not going to arrest you. You might want to start thinking of an excuse to your friends to explain how you lost the dope.”

“What? You can’t do that! You have to arrest me!”

“Why? It isn’t like you would get any real time and it means a bunch of paperwork for us. Kind of a nuisance, really.”

“No, you don’t understand,” said Rodine. “These people … they’re not my … they wouldn’t understand or believe … they … last week … Christ, man, you gotta bust me.”

“We are not going to arrest you, that I can promise,” said Jack.

“They’ll kill me,” he pleaded.

“I know. I simply don’t care.”

“Why? Why me? This ain’t right!” he cried.

“Jack, it really isn’t right that we don’t give him a chance first,” said Laura. “He doesn’t seem like that bad or stupid of a person. Maybe he would want to co-operate with us. Tell us stuff so we could catch enough people to make it worthwhile.”

“I, I can’t do that either,” whined Rodine. “Without the dope they would kill me, anyway. You don’t understand. Last week something went wrong. Someone must’ve cut the shit after I delivered it. The bi— … these guys I work for, they think I tried to rip them off. They came over and kicked the shit out of me. Then tied me to a chair and made me watch as they took turns fuckin’ my girlfriend every which way —”

“I don’t care and I don’t feel like listening to all this bullshit,” said Jack.

“It’s not bullshit!” Rodine stopped talking and his mouth hung open for a moment as he looked back and forth at Jack and Laura. His eyes settled on Jack and his voice turned pleading. “I’d help ya. Believe me, I’d help ya … but I can’t. You gotta bust me. Please.”

“Maybe he would be a suitable candidate for Witness Protection,” suggested Laura.

“No,” cried Rodine. “If you put me in Witness Protection, they know where my folks live and my brother’s and sister’s families. They’d whack them if they couldn’t find me. And if they did find me, last week would be a picnic compared to what they would do next time. No, you gotta bust me. It’s the only way I’ll stay alive. I’ve been working my ass off these last few days. Started the second batch going before this one was done. It was dangerous as shit in there.”

“What if you help us and we let you keep the dope and keep making it?” said Jack.

“You would do that?” replied Rodine with a glimmer of hope.

“Only if you’re absolutely honest with us about everything … do exactly what we tell you and keep us in the loop. When I figure you’ve paid your debt, you’ll be cut loose.”

“But if you bust these guys they’ll know it was me. I can’t take a chance that —”

“I will make you a promise that we will never do anything to burn you,” replied Jack.

Rodine paused and said, “It ain’t exactly like I got a choice, is it?”

“You could be a hero and kill yourself,” said Jack, indifferently. “It might spare your girlfriend.”

“I ain’t no hero. What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Start from the beginning since your last bust. Who do you sell to and who do you get your chemicals and glassware from?”

“Will you take the cuffs off me?”

Seconds later, Rodine sat on the hood of the car with one hand holding his rib cage.

“Did these guys break your ribs?” asked Jack.

Rodine nodded and said, “Broken or cracked. Either way they hurt like hell every time I take a breath.”

“Tell us who attacked you last week.”

Rodine paused, grimaced and looked at Jack and said, “There were three of ’em. Bikers with Satans Wrath. Well, either with them or workin’ for them. I only know them as Croaker, Hamburger, and Chugger.”

“How long have you been hanging out with Satans Wrath?”

“I don’t really hang out with them. I just work for them. I got connected with them about three years ago. Then two years ago I got busted in a lab … but I beat the case.” Rodine looked at Jack and said, “Guess you already know that?”

Jack nodded.

“Yeah, well shortly after that bust, I was approached by a guy by the name of Herm. He’s in tight with Satans Wrath. Has been for years. He got busted on the same day in a different lab.”

“What’s Herm’s last name?” asked Jack.

“I’m not sure. Something like Warwick.”

“How about Varrick?”

“Varrick?… Yeah, that’s it. He taught me how to set up a proper lab. It was like taking a course. Meth 101. Varrick followed written instructions. A step-by-step document.”

“So Varrick is the brains behind everything?” asked Laura.

“Naw. He isn’t that smart,” replied Rodine. “He was trained by someone he calls the Grandmaster Cocktail.”

“The Grandmaster Cocktail?” asked Jack, trying to sound only slightly interested. He also realized Rodine was still taking about Varrick in the present tense and did not know he was dead.

“Yeah, or just Cocktail, as he usually refers to him. Cocktail knows how to make the purest form of meth going and do it real professional-like.”

“Interesting,” said Jack, trying not to let his excitement show. “Tell us everything you know about Cocktail and then work down from there.”

“I’m told Cocktail is an expert at making other stuff, too, like ecstasy and GHB, but I only make meth. Other labs make the other stuff.”

“GHB,” said Jack in disgust. “Gamma-hydroxybutyrate. Better known as the date rape drug. So who is this guy?”

“I’ve never met him. Varrick said Cocktail originally approached him after the last bust because he read his name in the paper and happened to know where he lived. Cocktail had some smart ideas and a business plan. He knew all about how to make dope and also had access to all the right chemicals. He wanted Varrick to introduce him to someone from Satans Wrath.”

“So Varrick did that?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, but there’s more. Cocktail also knew names of guys connected with The Brotherhood. His idea was to get the bikers and The Brotherhood to work together and expand sales. Cocktail didn’t want to deal with The Brotherhood directly.”

“How come?” asked Jack.

“From what Varrick told me, Cocktail knew who a lot of ’em were, but didn’t want ’em to know he was involved. A lot of The Brotherhood members are kids … teenagers. He was afraid they would blab. He knew the bikers wouldn’t.”

“Sounds like Cocktail isn’t stupid,” said Jack.

“Not according to Varrick. He says the guy is a real brain. Like a scientist. At first Varrick was skeptical of the idea that the bikers would get involved with a bunch of kids or guys who were still in their twenties. Cocktail said they weren’t all that young and gave him Sy’s name.”

“Sy?” repeated Laura.

“Yeah. Sy is the guy I deliver to. He’s boss of one of the gangs in The Brotherhood. Anyway, to get the ball rollin’, Cocktail agreed to go with Varrick and run the idea past Sy, who jumped at the chance. Then Varrick took Cocktail to meet with the bikers who also liked the idea. The bikers brought Cocktail in under their wing and made inroads into The Brotherhood through Sy. After that, Cocktail developed a training course. Varrick said Cocktail taught him and the rest is history.”

“Where is Varrick’s lab?” asked Jack.

“I dunno. Never been there. Lab locations are kept real secret. Varrick did mention it’s in the basement of some woman’s daycare, though.”

“Cocktail knew it was a daycare?” asked Jack.

“Oh, yeah. That was like Step One in Meth 101. Location. The first time, Cocktail rented a place with a fake driver’s licence he got from the bikers and used a cover story of a Janitorial Supply Company. Guess he proved himself because the bikers were impressed. After that, the bikers used other guys to rent places.”

“Cocktail didn’t care that it was a daycare?” asked Laura.

“Naw. The thing is, it’s close to an industrial area. Cocktail told Varrick to try and put a lab in an area that would help hide the smell.” Rodine gestured with his hand and said, “It’s no accident that this place is close to the brewery. Varrick said Cocktail laughed about the daycare and joked that a bunch of tots crappin’ their pants would also help hide the smell.”

“I take it, Cocktail doesn’t care about kids getting cancer,” said Jack coldly.

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I think most of the labs are in rented spots. Nobody wants to use their own place. When I work in the lab I usually wear a mask.”

“Aren’t you the smart one,” said Jack, knowing the cheap paper masks he previously saw inside would do little to stop the carcinogenic fumes from entering his lungs.

“Yeah, thanks,” replied Rodine, not realizing Jack was being sarcastic. “Anyway, Step Two is setting the lab up the proper way and learning how to make the shit. Cocktail taught that to Varrick who then taught others, including me.”

Rodine paused as Jack jotted down some notes, before continuing, “Oh, yeah, all the labs are booby trapped as per Cocktail’s instructions. Wrong person enters and the whole place goes up in a big fireball. It will destroy all evidence and whoever enters, as well.”

“Like a cop,” said Laura.

“Yeah, or someone trying to rip us off. I can take ya inside and show ya, if you like?”

“Later. Is there a Step Three?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, the most important step. Marketing. We hand a percentage off to Satans Wrath, but also flood the high schools, universities, and colleges with the shit at bargain-basement prices. That’s why it’s nice to have an in with The Brotherhood. Most are the right age and in school.”

“Why sell so low?” asked Laura.

“So they get hooked. When they graduate and get good jobs the price will go up.”

“That’s if the dope doesn’t cause them to flunk out,” said Jack.

“Yeah, there’s always that possibility,” agreed Rodine.

“Any other steps?” asked Jack.

“That’s about it. At least how Varrick laid it out to me. Satans Wrath liked the marketing idea, as well. They distribute the chemicals they get from Cocktail and get a cut of all the action, plus a percentage of all the dope. I don’t know how big of a percentage. Sy looks after that.”

“Do you deal with any of the bikers direct?” asked Jack.

“Not normally. Things have changed since the last time we were busted. Different bikers for contact with different labs. Even then, the bikers usually use a go-between and rarely have anything to do with the cooks … unless they want to beat the shit out of someone,” he added ruefully. “Sy manages an apartment complex. All of the tenants in there work for him in one way or another. That’s who I deliver to.”

“But Cocktail and Sy know each other,” said Jack.

“Only sort of.”

“Sort of?” questioned Jack.

“Cocktail knew who Sy was, but, according to Sy, hadn’t met the guy before then. Still doesn’t know his real name. It was Varrick who first started calling him Cocktail. Sy likes to brag a lot about who he knows and his connections with Satans Wrath, but he is tight-lipped about Cocktail. He knows what the bikers will do to him if he ever spilled the beans.”

“Does Sy still meet with Cocktail?” asked Jack.

“I don’t think so. The bikers act as the go-between. They taught Sy how to be really careful, like using laptops and other people’s wireless signals to communicate through chat rooms. On rare occasions, he’ll text a coded message on his BlackBerry, but you’ll never get him talking about anything on the phone. Doesn’t even talk in his apartment. If something needs saying, he takes you for a walk down the hall. Sy has lots of people he deals to. Even his half-brother, Tommy, is the main supplier for his school.”

“School!” noted Jack. “How old is Sy?”

“I think thirty-two. Tommy is seventeen.”

“What school does Tommy go to?” asked Jack.

“Queen Elizabeth Secondary in Surrey. He still lives at home with his mom and Sy’s dad.”

Jack and Laura glanced at each other. Crime Stoppers had received several tips about dealers in that school.

Jack looked at Rodine and continued. “How many labs are Satans Wrath getting a percentage from?”

“I don’t know. Lots. I do know it ain’t wise to try and rip them. Not even a little bit, ’cause either the solutions wouldn’t add up or it would have to be diluted. When they were beating on me they said I diluted it with baking soda. I told them I wasn’t stupid enough to try and rip them. The fuckin’ bastards. I trust Sy, so it had to be one of the bikers who ripped me.”

“You said the solutions wouldn’t add up if someone was ripping them off?” asked Jack.

“Do you know the main cook we had when we got busted with all those labs last time?”

“Yes.”

“Cocktail examined the records that the police turned over to his defence lawyer. From all the empty chemical containers the cops seized, Cocktail calculated that more dope was being made than the bikers knew about.”

“So Satans Wrath were being short-changed on their percentage,” said Jack.

“Exactly. Varrick told me the cook took a long time to die.”

“His body was found in an alley,” said Jack. Seeing the nervous look on Rodine’s face, he quickly changed the subject and said, “So basically, a network of labs has been set up, with the original training, expertise, and chemicals coming from some guy by the name of Cocktail.”

Rodine paused for a moment, reflecting upon the situation he found himself in, and what the future would hold if the bikers found out.

“Trust us,” said Jack. “We will never do anything to divulge who you are. Never. So answer our questions.”

Rodine swallowed, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Yeah, we follow Cocktail’s instructions like he’s the great guru. Varrick and Zack run their own lab. Me, I gotta do it myself. Varrick gets the chemicals from Cocktail and passes them on to the bikers for delivery. Find Varrick and Zack and you’ll find Cocktail.”

“Is there anybody else you know who deals with Cocktail?” asked Jack.

“No, except for the bikers, I think Varrick is the only one who knows who Cocktail really is and the only guy who acts as a go-between for Cocktail and the bikers. Satans Wrath don’t want anyone to know that Cocktail is associated with them. The odd time, like maybe once or twice a year if Cocktail can’t get all the right chemicals, we sometimes have to change the formula. When that happens, Varrick gets his instructions from Cocktail. Sometimes the new stuff is checked out on a couple of kids to see if they croak or anything. If everything is okay, then Varrick passes on the new recipe to the rest of us.”

“Cocktail is the head chef and the rest of you are like the sous chefs,” said Laura.

“What’s a sous chef?”

“Never mind,” replied Jack. “Do you know if any kids have died from the experiments?”

“Varrick once told me that a couple have. I don’t know who. Varrick is who you guys should be watchin’ if you want to get a handle on everything.”

“Varrick and Zack are dead,” said Jack. “Both died of a drug overdose two months ago.”

“Yeah? Those dumb shits. I wonder what they cranked up?”

“Heroin,” replied Jack.

“Stupid bastards. I thought they were smarter than that. Sell dope, don’t use it.”

“We don’t believe it was an accident,” said Jack. “Varrick and Zack may have been getting careless. Perhaps drawing police attention,” he added.

“Shit … and here I am talking to you.”

“Don’t worry. It won’t happen to you as long as you stay on our good side. Screw with us, hold anything back … well, I think you know what will happen.”

Rodine nodded silently.

“We would really like to find Cocktail,” said Jack. “Do that for us and we’re square.”

“That may not be easy,” replied Rodine. “It ain’t healthy for me to be asking questions about him. As I said, Sy is a very cautious dude.”

“Don’t do anything to get yourself killed,” said Jack. “We’ll work through this together. What bikers do you get your chemicals from?”

“I place the order through Sy and usually it’s different bikers who deliver. Not full-fledged dudes. I forget what they call them.”

“Prospects or strikers,” said Jack.

“Yeah, that’s it. As far as I knew, the bikers got the stuff from Varrick, but if he’s dead, then I don’t know who the go-between would be.”

“Where, when, and how do you get your chemicals?” asked Jack.

“Fuck, the pickups are at weird hours and in different remote areas. That way everyone can check and make sure nobody is being followed.”

“Is Sy expecting this delivery right away?” asked Laura, gesturing to the trunk of the car.

“Yeah, I should have it to him around eight. Not much time. Next one is due Saturday morning.”

“Okay, I want you to give us a two-minute tour inside the house and then make your delivery,” said Jack. “Keep on running the lab like always.”

“For how long do I run the lab?”

“Not long. I hate what it is doing to people,” said Jack, making no attempt to hide his anger.

“But then what happens?”

“We’ll bust your lab when you’re not there. You could even say you spotted police surveillance. If you keep your prints and stuff off the glassware, you’ll win another court case.”

“I don’t think I want to chance winning another court case if you plan on busting Sy or any of the bikers. It would be better if I go to jail, too. That way nobody will suspect I ratted out.”

“Not a problem,” replied Jack. “We’ll figure something out when the time comes. I’ll give you my cell number. Memorize it. Anything I should know, day or night, call me.”

After a quick tour of the lab, Jack and Laura returned to their car.

“Looks like we have someone on the inside,” said Laura. “Connie should be happy with what we know.”

“Except he’s not really on the inside or he would know who Cocktail really is,” said Jack. “We’re going to have to get to Sy somehow. Doesn’t sound like wiretap or surveillance will work.”

“Thinking of doing a UC on Sy?” asked Laura.

“It may be our only option. Get our new friend to introduce us. I’d also like to see where and how far spread this dope is going. Maybe Toxicology could help,” said Jack, picking up his cellphone and calling the RCMP Crime Lab.

“Toxicology … Lucy, it’s Jack Taggart. Sorry, I don’t have much time. Is there something we could use to spike a shipment of crystal meth? Something that wouldn’t be noticed or hurt people, but at the same time show up like a beacon to you if any of it came back for analysis? It would help us figure out where it is being distributed.”

Jack talked for a moment more before smiling and hanging up. He did not realize his decision to chemically tag the drug was about to have a devastating affect on his moral decision to allow the lab to continue operating.

Chapter Fourteen

Connie was mildly pleased when she met with Jack and Laura at their office and learned what their new friend had told them.

“Puts us one step closer,” she said.

“Sy Sloan has a record three pages long,” said Laura, as she slid the criminal record across the desk to Connie. “Includes a dozen drug convictions, several assaults, and possession of restricted weapons.”

“But no charges in the last three years,” noted Connie as she scanned the documents.

“According to OCTF he is one of the more prominent leaders in The Brotherhood,” said Jack. “He’s reached the point where others take the risk for him.”

“That includes his seventeen-year-old half-brother, Tommy,” said Laura. “According to our friend, Tommy is the main meth dealer at Queen Elizabeth Secondary.”

“There has been a steady flow of Crime Stoppers tips coming in regarding teenage dealers at QE,” said Jack. “Uniform have made several arrests, but Tommy has not been caught yet.”

“From what your source says, I’m not optimistic about Sy being caught through surveillance or on a wiretap,” said Connie. “And if Sy isn’t in contact with Cocktail anymore, then what —”

“Sy is still the stepping stone we need to focus on,” interjected Jack. “Looking at his record, he’s not overly intelligent. The reason he is a leader is because he is twice the age of most of the punks.”

“Also twice the size,” said Laura. “OCTF says he’s monstrously huge. He rules by intimidation, not brains.”

“So what do we do?” asked Connie.

“I think Laura and I could get close to him through a UC,” replied Jack. “We could get our new friend to introduce us.”

“He would do that?” asked Connie.

“We wouldn’t exactly give him a choice,” replied Jack.

“Some of the bikers know you,” said Connie. “What if you’re recognized?”

“It is only the prospective bikers who deal face to face with The Brotherhood. The current prospects don’t know us. We’ll change our appearance and names. I’ll introduce myself as ‘Jay.’ If I bump into someone from my past who still doesn’t know my real occupation and calls me Jack, I can say that Jay is short for that.” Jack turned to Laura and said, “How about you? Want me to call you ‘Princess’ or something?”

“Princess!” Laura gave a pretend giggle before her voice became serious and she said, “Knowing the mentality of those in The Brotherhood, I guess Princess would be appropriate.”

“I’ll also contact Drug Section and see if Sammy’s team can help us out on occasion,” said Jack.

“Are you planning on doing a UC right away?” asked Connie.

“Actually, after what happened,” cautioned Laura, while looking at Jack, “they might be a little paranoid that our friend is not on the straight and narrow with them. Introducing new faces right away could raise the alarm.”

“What happened?” asked Connie.

“Apparently someone ripped off some drugs and our friend took some heat over it,” said Jack, noting that Laura gave a slight grimace of self-retribution for making the comment in front of Connie.

“Apparently,” repeated Connie, nodding as if she understood something.

“Let’s give it a week or two and dig up all the background info we can on Sy,” said Jack, then talk to our friend and work out an idea for an introduction.”

“Well, apparently, I guess that is all we can do,” replied Connie.

Saturday morning came and Rodine made his next delivery to Sy. This time the shipment had been chemically tagged to make it identifiable in any future police seizures.

Jack and Laura each made it home for dinner Saturday night and decided to take Sunday and Monday off. Jack felt optimistic that things were coming together and bought a bottle of wine to enjoy with dinner.

It was nine o’clock Sunday morning and sixteen-year-old Julie Goodwin’s cereal had gone soggy as she stared down at the bowl. Her mom and dad and twelve-year-old brother, George, had finished their breakfast, but were still at the table making small talk.

Julie knew that in a few minutes they would go off to church and leave her alone. She was too sick to go anywhere. She felt like she was still in a trance. Dark, puffy folds of skin beneath her eyes stood in sharp contrast with the paleness of the rest of her face.

“Are you sure you are going to be okay, dear?” asked her mom.

Julie nodded.

“Yesterday, when you went to … your new friend … Lorraine’s house for dinner, what did you eat?” asked her dad.

“Pizza.”

“Bet it was off,” he commented as he stood up from the table.

“We’ll check on you when we get home,” said her mom, reassuringly.

“I think she’s faking it to get out of going to church,” said George as he walked past and cuffed her lightly on the back of her head.

Normally his action would have provoked an angry retort in their traditional brother-sister feud … but this morning was different. Julie reached out unexpectedly and hugged George and kissed him on the cheek.

“I love you, Georgie,” she whispered, before quickly letting go.

“Don’t you ever do that again!” he protested.

Both parents looked at each other and smiled. Julie was growing up.

Julie waited until they left before getting a notepad and pen. She stared down at the blank pad and thought about the day before. Her new friend, Lorraine, did not turn out to be a friend. She had gone with Lorraine to the house of someone she did not know, although several students she recognized from school were there.

She had one drink. Lorraine said it was a virgin Caesar. She felt embarrassed at Lorraine’s comment and wished she had never confided in her. She could not remember if she drank it all.

The next thing she remembered was staring up at a bedroom ceiling. She could not move or speak. It was as if she was having an out-of-body experience. Several young guys were having sex with her. They were laughing. One said he had to go last because he had a STD.

Lorraine walked her home later. She told her not to do anything stupid and to consider it a rite of passage. Lorraine also handed Julie a small baggie of crystal meth and told her to take some, that it would make her feel better. Julie refused and flung it back at her.

Julie squeezed her eyes shut to block out the memory. It didn’t work and she stared at the blank piece of paper in front of her. Eventually she picked up the pen and began to write. Her tears smeared some of the ink, but it was still legible.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I am really sorry. Please don’t hate me. You two have been the best parents anyone could have. I did something really stupid. The whole school will know. I could never face going back. I am really sorry. Please forgive me. I love you all.

Chapter Fifteen

On Tuesday afternoon, Jack sat at his desk reading reports about minor meth seizures from across the lower mainland.

Laura glanced up and asked, “Any of the seizures from our friend’s lab?”

Jack shook his head and said, “Personally, I don’t know if that makes me feel good or not.”

“I feel the same way. A relief to know that the stuff we’re allowing isn’t showing up, yet at the same time it makes it difficult to track.”

“Obviously there are a lot of other labs running besides ours,” replied Jack.

“Ours? Oh, man … I guess you’re right,” said Laura. “It’s awful to think of it in that context.”

“If we shut our friend down it won’t make any difference,” said Jack. “If we don’t catch Cocktail they’ll start another lab somewhere else.”

“I know. At least our lab isn’t in the basement of a daycare.”

“I think we better quit referring to it as ours,” said Jack. “Somebody hears that and Internal will be all over us.”

“Again.”

Jack smiled and said, “Yes, ag—”

His telephone interrupted his conversation and he answered. Laura listened closely when she heard Jack talking to Lucy from Toxicology.

“Our first hit,” repeated Jack while looking at Laura and giving her the thumbs-up sign.

“Sixteen-year-old girl by the name of Lorraine Calder,” said Jack, while writing down what he was being told. “The police went to interview her as she was arriving home … she tried to chuck a small baggie from her purse … did it match the stuff we tagged? Who was the arresting officer? Gotcha. Thanks a bunch.”

Jack hung up and called a constable in Surrey. Laura knew by the look on Jack’s face that what he discovered did not make him happy. When he hung up he stared silently at Laura for a moment to collect his thoughts.

“Let me have it,” said Laura solemnly.

“They were investigating the suicide of a sixteen-year-old kid who attended QE by the name of Julie Goodwin,” said Jack. “An honour student whose brains likely made her a bit of an outcast. She became friends with the girl, Lorraine Calder, and spent last Saturday with her. On Sunday, while her parents were at church, she got the key to her father’s gun locker and shot herself. Her parents came home and were reading the suicide note when her younger brother found her body.”

“And it was our dope that Lorraine had in her purse,” Laura reiterated.

Jack nodded. “Lorraine said that Julie Goodwin gave it to her. Lucy talked to the pathologist and said there was an indication Julie may have been sexually assaulted. Also traces of GHB in her body.”

“Date rape,” whispered Laura to herself.

“No sign of meth in Julie’s body. I think Lorraine is a liar.”

“Our friend mentioned that some of the other labs made ecstasy and GHB,” said Laura.

Jack was already dialling his cellphone.

Rodine walked the three blocks to a small neighbourhood playground. He saw Jack and Laura parked nearby and got in the back seat of their car.

“You guys knew I was over drinkin’ with Sy last night?” asked Rodine. “That’s why you called?”

“Tell us what you found out,” replied Jack, wanting to keep Rodine on edge as to how much they did know of his activities.

“Didn’t find out much,” replied Rodine. “Tommy showed up and was really pissed off. Two of his dealers got busted in the parking lot at school yesterday. Tommy thinks a teacher is ratting them out. Says he has it narrowed down to one of three. They might kill the teacher if they find out.”

“You serious?” asked Laura.

“Damn rights. They’ll kill me, too, if they find out I’m rattin’.”

“Previously you mentioned other labs were making ecstasy and GHB,” said Jack. “Any idea at all where the labs could be or who the cooks are?”

“No, but Cocktail would be the one who arranged their training on how to make it.”

“We want you to introduce us to Sy,” said Jack.

“I can’t! He’d kill me!”

“Laura and I work on an Intelligence Unit and rarely go to court. We would never do anything to bring heat down on you. If arrests were ever made over anything you were involved in, we would not do it without your permission.”

“Really?”

“Really. I want you to tell Sy that you’ve met someone who you think is connected to the Irish mafia. Tell him we moved here from back east.”

“Irish mafia … fuck, that would impress him. Sy is always watching those old Godfather movies. He even talks like Marlon Brando half the time.”

“Tell him we move stolen property in a big way and say you think we have connections in the trucking and shipping industries.”

“Why not say you’re into dope instead?” asked Rodine curiously.

“To protect you. With the bikers hanging a beating on you, they may be a little paranoid if all of a sudden you have new friends wanting to buy dope. We also don’t want to come across as competition. I’m five years older than Sy. I want him to to look up to us and not be treating us like a couple of underlings. I want him impressed enough to start confiding or bragging to us.”

“How do I say I know you?”

“Tell him you met us a year ago at a really nice restaurant. Say you think we are silent partners in the place and like to party hearty and have lots of cash to throw around.”

“What restaurant?”

“Have you been to any classy ones?”

“Yeah … maybe … a year ago for my girlfriend’s birthday … let me think.”

“Tell Sy you’ve partied with us often,” said Laura. “Introduce Jack as Jay and me as Princess.”

“You know,” said Rodine, starting to warm up to the idea, “there is an empty apartment in Sy’s building that he is looking to fill. Maybe I could tell him that you are interested as a scam to meet him. You wouldn’t really have to rent it, but it might be a way for you to invite him to party with you. He likes his booze.”

“Perfect,” said Jack. “Is the apartment on Sy’s floor?”

“Like next door?” asked Laura hopefully.

“No, it’s directly above him. The problem is the building isn’t very soundproof. Sy gets really pissed off if someone disturbs his sleep. He would prefer to rent it to an old person, like a grandparent of one of his guys. He was doing that, but the old fart croaked last week.”

“Tell him you think we are planning on using it to store stuff and won’t really be living in it all that much.”

“That might work. When should I do it?”

“Immediately, before he rents it to someone else,” replied Jack. “Talk to him and give us a call. I’d like to meet him tonight.”

After Rodine left the car, Laura said, “Tonight is really pushing it. Not much time to get the UC plan approved.”

“Let Connie do the paperwork on that. We don’t have time if we want to save a teacher from being murdered.”

Chapter Sixteen

Morris Bloomquist had arrived at his apartment and was opening a Chinese food takeout container when the intercom buzzer sounded. He was tired and glared at the intercom speaker on the wall in a subconscious desire for his look to silence it. However, his glare did not have the same success as it did on his staff at Queen Elizabeth, where he was the principal.

Jack identified himself and the buzzer beeped to let him and Laura inside.

“Morris Bloomquist?” asked Jack, while he and Laura showed their badges at the apartment door.

“Mister Bloomquist,” he replied. “Did you come to tell me my ex is dead?”

“No,” replied Jack, puzzled. More so, when he saw a flash of disappointment cross Bloomquist’s face.

“Our apologies,” replied Jack. “It can’t wait.”

“You’ve interrupted my dinner. I trust you don’t mind if I eat it while it is still warm. You may sit if you like.”

Jack and Laura sat down and Jack said, “There are two reasons we did not come to the school. First, we both work undercover and would prefer to keep our identities secret.”

“Good God!” said Bloomquist while manoeuvering a fork full of noodles into his mouth. “You both appear to be in your mid-thirties and you’re telling me you are working undercover on children?”

“Our targets could be the parents of some of these children,” replied Jack. “The other reason we are here is out of concern for a teacher. There may be a degree of urgency to this.”

“What teacher? Why?”

“We don’t know which teacher. That is why we came to you. Crime Stoppers has received several tips over the last year concerning students at your school who have been trafficking in drugs. Several arrests have been made.”

“And you are going to accuse me of not maintaining control over the students,” said Bloomquist harshly, while plucking a wayward noodle from his lips and sucking it back inside his mouth.

“Not at all,” said Laura quickly.

“We are concerned that some of the people involved in drug distribution at your school are beginning to figure out who is talking and are planning to respond with extreme violence,” said Jack.

“The person phoning Crime Stoppers … male or female?” asked Bloomquist.

“Crime Stoppers didn’t say,” replied Jack. “They are very protective about maintaining the confidentiality of the system. It has to be someone the students trust enough to confide in. Could you give us the names of teachers who are popular with the students?”

“Lyle Ryker comes to mind,” said Bloomquist. “He was very active with the students over the tsunami in Thailand a couple of years ago. They raised a considerable amount of food, clothing, and money.”

Bloomquist paused to slurp another mouthful of noodles. Jack didn’t mind. It gave him time to write in his notebook.

“The second name is Marie Sainsbury,” continued Bloomquist. “She gets along well with most of the more troubled students. The third is Bob Dunn. He teaches math but is also a phys. ed instructor. He coaches sports and sees the students after hours. Sometimes they go on road trips together.”

“Anyone else?” asked Jack.

“Possibly Amanda Flowers. She is new to teaching. She did her practicum with us last year and came on full-time in September. She’s young, single, and pretty. A lot of the male students probably have a crush on her.”

“You said that Bob Dunn teaches math and phys. ed. What do the other three teach?” asked Jack.

“Bob replaced Lyle as a math teacher when Lyle ended his term with us last June.”

“The information the police are receiving is current,” said Jack. “I believe we are looking for a teacher who was here last year and this year. What about Marie and Amanda?”

“Marie teaches English, but is also a guidance counsellor. She talks to a lot of the students. Amanda teaches history and art.”

“I see,” replied Jack, while jotting down the information in his notebook.”

“If you plan to interview my staff, I would like to be present,” said Bloomquist. “It is most upsetting that someone would deal with the problem in such a devious manner and without consulting me. I’m sure the whole issue could have been dealt with a lot more effectively. Explains this nonsense of why police officers keep storming into my school.”

“Oh?” replied Jack. “I wasn’t aware that police officers had been storming into the school?”

“So far they’ve only made arrests in the parking lot and on the street out front,” replied Bloomquist. “It is only a matter of time. I know how these things work. After all, my second wife was a cop.”

“And how do these things work?” asked Laura, sounding innocent.

“There is no need to be facetious,” replied Bloomquist. “What’s your next step? Busting into student lockers?”

“Were there certain lockers that you think we should —” Laura stopped when she felt Jack’s knee nudge her leg.

“I forgot to mention something,” said Jack. “I was provided the times of when the tips were called in. Most were received between two and two-thirty in the afternoon. Would that narrow it down?”

Bloomquist looked smugly at Jack and said, “Had you bothered to tell me that to start with, we would not have needed to waste everyone’s time. All our teachers are busy teaching during that time. They wouldn’t be making calls of that nature. The person who is ‘reporting’ is no doubt a student. Perhaps skipping class.”

“I’m sorry,” muttered Jack. “I should have thought of that. I feel like an idiot for wasting everyone’s time.”

“I married an idiot. Lived with her two years before we divorced. Perhaps you should get together with her,” smiled Bloomquist.

Jack locked eyes with Bloomquist and within seconds Bloomquist looked down and said, “Obviously I am only joking.”

“Well, Morris, I’m sure I will be seeing you again,” said Jack coldly. As he slowly arose he placed his hands on the table and leaned closer to Bloomquist and stared into his eyes. Bloomquist instinctively cowered back in his chair and looked down.

“What a jerk!” said Laura, as soon as they returned to their car.

“He’s a bully,” said Jack. “I hate bullies. I understand why the teacher didn’t go through the normal channels. That’s why I made up the story about the calls coming in during class hours.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“We need to protect her.”

“Her?”

“Amanda Flowers. Let’s find out where she lives and talk to her right away.”

“Why her?”

“The tips are recent enough that we know it’s not Lyle Ryker. Bob Dunn is a coach and I don’t see jocks and kids in sports as being the type to know the details provided to Crime Stoppers. That leaves Marie Sainsbury and Amanda Flowers. Sainsbury is a guidance counsellor. She wouldn’t want to risk her credibility with the students by taking a chance on saying anything. That leaves Amanda. Young, idealistic, and trying to make a difference. Not burned out yet. My money is on her.”

Jack checked the Motor Vehicle Branch and came up with Amanda’s address. Her driver’s license said she was twenty-five years old, but upon meeting her, Jack saw that she looked younger. He could see why many of the students would have a crush on her. She had flowing, shoulder-length blond hair, a cute figure, and a pretty face accented by large blue eyes.

After initial introductions, Jack said that they would like to speak to her concerning some of the students. Amanda invited them inside to the living room.

“Nice home,” commented Jack as they were led inside. “Do you live here alone?”

“I live alone, but unfortunately the house isn’t mine. The owners are a retired couple who are travelling around the world for a year. I’m house-sitting. Doesn’t cost me a dime as long as I look after the place.”

From the tidy yard and clean interior, Jack knew that Amanda was fulfilling her end of the bargain.

Once they were comfortably seated, Amanda offered tea or coffee. Jack and Laura politely declined and Jack said, “We are here to talk to you about your Crime Stoppers tips.”

A look of irritation crossed Amanda’s face. “I thought that was supposed to be confidential!” she said.

“It is,” said Jack. “We didn’t find out from Crime Stoppers. We received a tip that the bad guys have narrowed it down to three teachers. We met with Morris Bloomquist and he —”

“Mr. Bloomquist knows that it’s me?” said Amanda fearfully.

“No, not at all,” hastened Jack. “We asked him for a list of teachers who are popular with the students. Your name was one of them.”

“How did you know it was me?”

“Logical deduction. We left your principal thinking it was a student, but if we figured it out, so might the bad guys.”

Amanda gave a large sigh of relief. “I think Mister Bloomquist would fire me if he knew. He is against having students arrested. He believes it gives the school a bad name.”

“I’m not impressed with the man,” said Jack.

“He’s not really a bad person … it’s … well, his ex-wife was a police officer. A messy divorce may have clouded his judgment.”

“Our concern is that the bad guys are narrowing down their list of suspects,” said Jack. “We have received information that they are willing to murder whoever is tipping off the police.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” said Amanda bitterly. “But something has to be done. QE has turned into a zoo. Kids stoned out of their minds … violence, gangs. Last weekend we had a top student commit suicide. If we had made QE a safer place where kids would open up … I don’t know … none of us saw it coming. I —” Amanda stopped to wipe a tear from her face.

“We know about Julie Goodwin,” said Jack, sadly. “I applaud you for your efforts to clean things up, but you need to back off. We have reason to be genuinely concerned for your safety.”

“Lots of students confide in me,” said Amanda. “I’m pretty careful because I don’t want a student to get into trouble. I know what these gangsters are about. When I’ve called Crime Stoppers with information, I have been really careful to ensure that there is nothing passed on that would endanger any individual student. The information I have provided has been common knowledge to lots of students.”

“If we figured it out, so might the bad guys,” repeated Jack. “In the future, I would appreciate you calling us and not Crime Stoppers.

“And you will do something about it?”

“That’s a promise,” replied Jack.

Jack and Laura were leaving Amanda’s home when Jack received a call on his cellphone.

“Hey, Jay! How ya doin’?” said Rodine. “Is Princess with you?”

“I’m doing great,” replied Jack. “Any luck with that apartment?”

“Ya, I’m with Sy now. Told him about ya. If you want, you can come over and check it out right away.”

An hour later, Rodine introduced Jack and Laura to Sy as they entered the apartment lobby. Sy stood with his arms folded over his chest and gave Jack a hard look.

“They’re okay,” whispered Rodine nervously to Sy. “I told ya, Jay is my cousin for fuck sakes. I’ve known him all my life.”

Inwardly, Jack cringed. Rodine had made a serious error by saying they were related. Later, if he and Laura were identified, there would be no way for Rodine to say that he had been duped.

Sy nodded, but his attitude was one of suspicion. They took the elevator to the fourth floor and Sy used a key to let them inside the apartment.

“There’s still someone’s stuff in here,” noted Jack.

“The owner’s dead,” said Sy. “His relatives have until the end of the month … two weeks from now … to get the shit out of here. I’m still not sure if I’ll be renting it to you. A friend of mine has expressed an interest.”

“Suit yourself,” said Jack. “I’ve been looking for a place with underground parking and Rodent says you’re a good guy, but if you have someone else that —”

“Rodent?” answered Sy.

“Yeah,” smiled Jack as he looked at Rodine. “That’s what I’ve always called him.”

“Yeah,” chuckled Sy. “His little face does look a bit like a rat’s.”

“Fuck you,” replied Rodine, while glaring at Jack.

“Anyway,” continued Jack. “I prefer to pay cash. No receipts and no name on the intercom. If your friend isn’t interested, I’m willing to pay you two Gs a month.”

Sy sucked in a little wind. Two thousand dollars a month was double what the apartment was worth. He rubbed his chin with his hand as if in deep thought and said, “Cash, eh? You know, I’ve always been a believer of first come, first serve. If you got a thousand-dollar damage deposit to put down, it’s yours to move into at the end of the month.”

It was nine-thirty the following morning and Tommy Sloan was late for school when he gunned the engine of his purple Trans Am and drove through a stop sign. His action did not cause an accident, but it did come to the attention of Constable Dale and Constable Button who were in a nearby patrol car.

“See that?” said Button. “I stopped that kid once before. The little asshole has a real foul mouth. Hit the lights, I’m going to write him up.”

Seconds later Tommy turned on his signal and pulled over to the curb.

“Yes, Officer, I know I didn’t stop,” he said. “I’m late for school,” he said, as an explanation.

“Too bad, but you’re getting a ticket,” said Button.

“Yes, sir. I guess I deserve it,” replied Tommy.

“Another thing,” said Button. “Shut the car off and hand me the keys.”

“I’m not going to try and outrun you,” smiled Tommy, as he did as instructed.

“Good. One more thing. Step out of the car and place your hands on the roof.”

“You fuckin’ pigs got no right to search me!” yelled Tommy.

Twenty minutes later, Constable Button placed Tommy into an interview room where he was allowed to call a lawyer.

“Tell your lawyer that the quarter-pound of meth we seized out of your shorts was individually grammed up,” said Button as he closed the door.

Twelve hours later, Chugger, a prospect from Satans Wrath, picked up Sy at his apartment. After an hour of counter-surveillance tactics, including switching cars, Chugger parked behind a car wash called Wet Willy’s. It was closed for the night.

“The rear door is unlocked,” said Chugger. “Go on inside. I’m supposed to wait here.”

Sy did as instructed. He recognized Cocktail who was seated in the customer waiting area with another man. He did not know who the man was, but the gold insignia ring on his hand said he was a full-fledged member of Satans Wrath.

“You think it is a teacher from QE who is talking to the police?” asked Cocktail, dismissing any small talk.

“According to my brother it is. He said the cops tried to make it look like nobody tipped them, but too many guys have been busted lately. Three or four teachers are the only common denominator.”

“Which ones?” asked Cocktail.

Sy gave Cocktail all the surnames.

The biker looked at Sy and said, “Sit here, while we make a call from the office.”

Sy waited as the biker and Cocktail entered an office and closed the door behind them.

Once inside the office the biker looked at Cocktail and asked, “Any ideas?”

“It’s Amanda Flowers. She could pass for Playboy material and struts around with a real attitude. She isn’t much older than the students. There isn’t a straight boy in that school who wouldn’t want to fuck her. They talk to her like she’s their friend and not a teacher. She needs to be taught a lesson.”

“Not a fatal lesson,” said the biker. “We don’t need the heat.”

“Not kill her,” said Cocktail. “She lives alone, house-sitting and looking after someone’s cat. The owners are away. I have an idea that will leave a lasting impression upon her. Something to make a lasting impression on any others who decide to stick their noses where they don’t belong.”

The biker listened to Cocktail’s plan and said, “Sounds good. Tell Sy to carry it out.”

Sy stood up when Cocktail and the biker returned.

“We know who it is,” said the biker. “It’s the bitch by the name of Flowers.”

“How do you know?” asked Sy.

“How we know is none of your business.”

“Should we do something?” asked Sy.

“Yes,” replied Cocktail. “Miss Flowers needs to be taught a lesson.”

Sy listened carefully to Cocktail’s plan and saw the biker give his nod of approval.

“I’ll arrange it for tomorrow night,” said Sy, getting up to leave. He glanced at Cocktail before heading toward the door as Cocktail’s plan rolled around in his brain.

Sy was no stranger to violence, nor did he shun it, but the evil grin on Cocktail’s face convinced him that this was one person he would never cross.

His plan, it’s gonna be bloody … bloody and fuckin’ cruel. Every time she looks in a mirror …

Chapter Seventeen

It was ten o’clock the following night when three youths crept across the lawn behind Amanda Flowers’s home. Being the third week of May, the sun had set an hour earlier and the yard was mostly in darkness. A few lights were on in the house. The back porch light was also on, but a large shrub blocked most of the light to the yard.

Two of the youths were fifteen years old and the third was sixteen. All of the boys had lengthy juvenile records for assault, drug trafficking, and auto theft.

The youths were both giddy and nervous about the instructions they had received from Sy. A brutal and multiple rape was to be followed by carving the word RAT on her forehead.

The youths ducked low in the yard when they heard the back door open. It was followed by a soft feminine voice that yelled, “Kitty, kitty, kitty! Come on, Whiskers! I’m leaving the door open. If you’re not in by the time I scrub my teeth, you can spend the night outside!”

The youths heard the footsteps fade back into the house and a moment later, an upstairs bathroom light came on.

“This is gonna be fuckin’ easy,” said the oldest, pulling a pistol from his belt. The pistol was only a pellet gun, but it looked real and he knew Flowers would be too scared to tell the difference.

He glanced at his two friends who nodded and smiled back as they each pulled out hunting knives.

The one youth brandished his knife in the air, simulating carving the letters R-A-T. “Easy and fun,” he said.

“Too bad Tommy couldn’t be here,” said the other.

“Sy is smart,” whispered the oldest. “He’ll make sure Tommy has a good alibi for tonight. Come on … time to put on our masks.”

The youths placed their weapons on the lawn in front of them, dug in their pockets, and each pulled out a ski mask.

Instantly, three powerful beams of blinding light illuminated the backyard. The mouths of all three boys simultaneously hung open.

“Police! Don’t move!” screamed a command as black-clad men appeared out of the darkness pointing Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine guns at them. The favoured automatic weapon of the Emergency Response Team.

The youths gasped simultaneously, their eyes wide with fright as the members of the ERT circled them. Seconds later, the boys were all handcuffed and laying face-down on the grass.

Jack and Laura heard the scenario play out from where they sat with an ERT commander in the back of an ERT van parked a block away.

At noon the day before, Amanda had called Jack to thank him for having Tommy arrested. Jack said that he knew nothing about it. After hanging up, he called Rodine and told him to have a beer with Sy and find out what he was thinking.

Later, Rodine had called Jack back and said, “Sy met with Cocktail and some biker. They figure a teacher by the name of Flowers has been ratting and got Tommy busted. I’m surprised Sy told me, but I think he was so freaked out by Cocktail’s plan that he had to tell someone.”

Jack winced when he heard the news, but wasn’t surprised. He found out so they could also figure it out. He asked Rodine what Cocktail’s plan was and listened as Rodine told him about the intended rape and mutilation with a knife.

At first Jack had felt nauseated because he knew that to identify Flowers as the intended victim would compromise Rodine. Then he came up with a plan to protect Flowers and Rodine.

Jack told his bosses that Tommy was an important figure in The Brotherhood because his brother was a leader. He said it was rumoured that The Brotherhood blamed a teacher for Tommy’s arrest, but that he did not know which teacher.

Jack suggested the possibility that a drive-by shooting of a teacher’s house could occur, or perhaps The Brotherhood would break into a teacher’s home and commit a violent assault. Jack added further fuel to the fire by telling Morris Bloomquist, who panicked and demanded protection for himself. He also provided a list of several other teachers’ names, including Amanda Flowers.

ERT was assigned to protect the teachers and Jack assured everyone that it would only be for a couple of days because if The Brotherhood did retaliate, they would do it when the anger was still high.

“These guys aren’t smart enough to wait and plan things out over time,” said Jack. “They’re comprised of impulsive hotheads. If the rumour is right, they won’t wait.”

Jack knew that the information he provided would be immediately given to defence lawyers upon arrests. The police, who were providing protection to several teachers and without having any knowledge of the intended rape and assault with the knife, would make the arrests appear innocuous enough to protect Rodine from discovery.

Now, Jack sat in the back of the van and closed his eyes while massaging his temples with his hand as he thought about the arrest.

“What is it?” asked Laura, sounding concerned.

“They screwed up,” replied Jack.

“You got that right,” replied Laura. “All of them busted.”

“Not the punks,” said Jack, looking up. “The arrest was screwed up.”

“What do you mean, we screwed up?” said the ERT commander.

“Damn it,” replied Jack. “The bust was premature. Defence will say the kids were there to slash her tires or something. I told you to wait until they were inside. You had what, one policewoman pretending to be Amanda and three other officers in there? You could easily have handled three punks.”

“That was before one of them pulled a gun out of his pants,” replied the commander. “I’m not going to risk the lives of my people over some assholes who, even if they had gone inside, would likely end up with, at best, a few months in Juvenile Detention.”

Jack reflected on the information he had received from Rodine. He knew the gun was only a pellet pistol, but it was a detail he could not share in advance with the other officers. He sighed and looked at the commander and said, “You’re right. I’m sorry. You made the right call.”

“Damn right I did.” The commander was silent for a moment before adding, “Guess you did, too. Your rumour was right.”

Forty-five minutes later, Jack received a call from Connie asking where he was.

“In Amanda Flowers’s house,” he replied. “Where are you?”

“I’m at the Surrey office. The three punks have already lawyered up. Basil Westmount is defending one and other lawyers from his firm are representing the other two. None of the little assholes said a word. Turns out the pistol was only a pellet gun.”

“Too bad,” replied Jack. “It is going to be tough for some prosecutor to try and prove they intended to harm her. They were busted in her backyard, not in her house.”

“Yeah, but they were in a teacher’s yard at night with weapons and ski masks,” said Connie. “That ought to count for something.”

“Yeah … a reasonable person would think that,” said Jack, sarcastically. “I have to go. Laura’s upstairs helping Amanda pack. I’ve convinced her to move to a new place.”

“Relatives?” asked Connie.

“No, her parents live in Victoria. I want her to quit and move away, but she is being stubborn.”

“Hope she finds a safe place. The Brotherhood may try again.”

“I know. I told her that these guys might not give up. It would make them look bad, like they were incapable of handling business.”

“I hope she isn’t planning on continuing teaching! Doesn’t she realize how dangerous these guys are?”

“I told her. I said with the items they were caught with … masks and knives … that in my opinion they were going to sexually assault her and cut her up.”

“Do you really think that or were you trying to scare her?”

“I really think that … and it did scare her. She agreed to take some time off. I’m hoping she will at least take the rest of the semester off and start next year in a different school.”

“Will she?”

“She’s too stressed at the moment to decide. She’s already worrying about how long court will take. She wants the whole matter over with so she can get back to teaching.”

“I’ll talk to the prosecutor. Maybe see if we can expedite matters.”

It was midnight when Jack and Laura arrived with Amanda and introduced her to Gabriel Parsons, who took them around to the back of the house and into the basement suite. The bed had already been made up for her and there were towels and linens available.

“You’ve got your own kitchen,” said Gabriel, “but I know you haven’t had time to shop. In the morning come and knock on my door. I’ll make you breakfast.”

“That’s not necessary, but thank you,” replied Amanda.

“I don’t mind. You would be doing me a favour. I could use the company. I also put a quart of milk and some almond-chocolate-chip cookies in the fridge for you. I baked them this afternoon so they’re fresh.”

Amanda smiled in spite of how she felt.

When Gabriel left, Amanda turned and said, “What a sweet lady. Thank you so much for helping me.”

“Gabriel has been through a lot,” said Jack.

“So you told me on the way over.”

“I appreciate that it hasn’t been easy for you, either. I’m hoping you will be good for each other.”

“I hope her daughter is going to be okay,” said Amanda. “The stress must be terrible.”

“Maybe you could help out by tutoring Noah. Gabriel said he was still suffering the loss of his father when Father Brown was murdered. He was a father figure to Noah. Gabriel said Noah has been fighting at school and that his grades have dropped.”

“I’d be glad to help tutor him. What grade is he in?”

“Grade eight. He attends Cedar Woods Secondary. He’s never been to QE, but to be on the safe side, I want you to use your mother’s maiden name while you are here.”

“If you think it’s necessary.”

“I do,” replied Jack. “I can’t reiterate strongly enough. Don’t tell anyone where you are staying. Give us a month or so to see what is happening. The punks who planned to attack you tonight are with The Brotherhood.

“I know about The Brotherhood,” replied Amanda. “I’ve had to deal with their BS on a daily basis.”

“Then you know they are dangerous.”

“Anyone listening to the news about all the shootings knows that.”

“They’re not all kids. Adults are in charge. Dangerous adults. I really wish you would move farther away.”

“Your parents live in Victoria,” added Laura. “That’s a beautiful city.”

“At twenty-five I don’t want to be moving back in with my parents,” replied Amanda. “Let’s see what happens in court.”

Chapter Eighteen

Over the next couple of days, Jack and Laura spent their time in the back of a surveillance van identifying people coming and going from Sy’s apartment building. Most were teenagers and most had criminal records. Of interest, one of the teenagers was identified as Lorraine Calder, the same person who had been with Julie Goodwin the day before the girl committed suicide.

Rodine told Jack that Lorraine was a girlfriend of one of Sy’s top lieutenants. A man who went by “Brewski” and who lived in the apartment next to Sy. Jack was able to identify Brewski’s real name as David Brewster. A twenty-nine year-old man who had a long criminal record for violent assaults and drug trafficking.

Three days before Jack and Laura were to move into Sy’s apartment building, Jack received a phone call from Connie. He spoke quietly on the phone in case someone should happen to walk past the van and hear his voice.

“You like your bad news straight up?” asked Connie glumly.

“What have you got?” whispered Jack.

“Crown and defence made a deal for the three punks we caught going after Amanda Flowers. Half an hour ago they all pled guilty to criminal harassment by engaging in threatening conduct.”

“That’s better than I thought,” replied Jack. “I figured it would be along the line of vandalism.”

“That might have been better. At least there would have been an admission that they intended to damage something.”

“Maybe defence thought the masks and weapons wouldn’t make the pretext of vandalism quite as plausible. I hope those details were mentioned.”

“They were. The prosecutor told the judge how they crept into her yard with masks, knives, and a pellet pistol. Westmount spoke for the defence. He told the judge that the young boys had an ill-conceived idea to put the masks on and yell at the teacher from the backyard. Their plan was that when the teacher looked out her window, the boys would hold the knives and pellet pistol up in the air to scare her and then run away. He said it was a schoolboy prank which was obviously wrong. He said all three young boys feel very foolish, ashamed, and extremely sorry for what they have done. He said letters of apology have been written to the teacher, but the police have stopped them from giving her the letters.”

“What did these young boys get?” asked Jack.

“All three received two years’ probation. They were already on probation for other crimes and this probation is to be served concurrently with the other.”

“So they received nothing?”

“You got it.”

“Is the Crown going to appeal the sentence?”

“No,” replied Connie. “With the evidence at hand the prosecutor says we’re lucky as it is. Who knows, maybe that was all the punks really intended to do.”

“Oh, Connie,” said Jack, sadly, “you’re sounding naive enough to be a judge. That is not what they intended to do.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Seeing as you’re not going to court, I’ll fill you in.”

“Fill me in on what?” asked Connie suspiciously.

“I am trusting you to keep this to yourself. Someone’s life depends upon it.”

“I understand.”

Jack told her about Sy meeting with Cocktail and the real plan which had been foiled.

“That evil prick! We gotta get this guy!”

“Trust me, we will.”

“Wait a minute. Did you bullshit us when we had ERT sitting on all —”

“Just found out from our friend a few minutes ago,” lied Jack.

“Yeah, I bet.”

“Does Amanda know what happened in court?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Not yet. I can tell her if you like, but I thought you and Laura had a better rapport with her, so –”

“We’ll tell her,” sighed Jack.

Jack and Laura met with Amanda. She invited them in for tea, but Jack did not want to wait to tell her the news. He watched as her face went blank, repeating his words over again as she tried to make sense of what happened.

“They’re still out there,” cautioned Jack. “You should move out of the lower mainland.”

“Why?” yelled Amanda. “It’s not like they should be angry!”

“Several of them have been arrested over the last year,” said Jack. “They might try again to send a message.”

“What message?” she demanded.

“Intimidation,” said Laura. “To scare anyone else from talking to the police.”

“This is bullshit!” Amanda looked at Jack and said, “Even with masks, they would never have gotten away with it. I know their voices. Two of them are not even in any of my classes, but I know them to hear them.” She looked intently at Jack and said, “Tell me, their apology letters … do you think they were genuine?”

“No. It is a common ploy by defence to impress the judge. Believe me, these guys are not repentant, which is why I would like to see you move somewhere else.”

“This really sucks.” Amanda brooded for a moment and said, “I want to be alone. Goodbye.”

“Amanda, I know you’re angry,” said Jack. “So am I, but —”

“Don’t worry. I’ll take the rest of the year off and try to find a different school to work at next year. Please, just go.”

As Jack and Natasha were making dinner, Natasha asked, “Bad day?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’re slamming the cupboard doors. You always do when you’re subconsciously trying to take control of a situation.”

Jack smiled to himself, once again realizing how easily Natasha could read him. “It wasn’t that bad of a day,” he replied. “Things turned out as I expected, just not as I would have liked.”

Over dinner, Jack told Natasha about the three punks receiving probation and how much it had affected Amanda’s life. He realized that Natasha was unusually silent over dinner and when they finished eating he asked, “Something on your mind?”

Natasha sighed and said, “You’ve had a bad day …”

“Doesn’t matter. What is it?”

“There is something I want to tell you. Let’s go sit on the sofa.”

Jack nodded and Natasha held his hand and led him to the living room. As they sat down, Jack’s BlackBerry vibrated. He glanced at the call display. It was Gabriel Parson.

“I better answer,” he said.

Natasha forced a small smile and nodded.

Gabriel was in hysterics. It took Jack several seconds to calm her down before she spoke coherently.

“Noah and I were at BCCH visiting Faith,” she sobbed. “When we returned home … Noah saw a bloody footprint on our sidewalk coming from Amanda’s.”

“Did you go in?”

“No! Not after —”

“Did you call 911?”

“Yes. The ambulance is taking her away. That’s their siren in the background … or maybe the police. I heard the paramedics talking. She was gagged and tied to her bed. Naked … her face … blood everywhere.”

“Is she alive?”

“Yes, yes, she’s alive. I heard her voice.”

Jack heard Gabriel’s voice turn from the phone and she said, “Yes, Noah,” before speaking to Jack again and saying, “The police are here. I need to go.”

Jack called the Major Crimes Unit, while quickly explaining to Natasha what had taken place. MCU had already been called and Connie Crane who was on her way to the hospital.

Jack didn’t know if he wanted to cry or to vomit as he placed his next call to Laura.

“Laura, something —”

“Jack, it’s Friday night and Elvis and I are out having a romantic dinner. The waiter is setting our meal down right now. Can whatever —”

“No it can’t wait!” Jack yelled harshly, before pausing to apologize and blurting out the details.

“We’ll head home immediately,” said Laura. She was still in shock over the news. Her mind was still reeling, trying to grasp the reality of it all. She felt like she was listening to someone else’s voice telling Jack where she was, robotically repeating some of the details, hoping somehow that she was still sounding professional.

“Wait at the restaurant,” she heard Jack say. “It’s closer for me to pick you up there than go to your house. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I’ll also call our friend and tell him to get over to Sy’s and see what he can find out.”

Jack’s call to Rodine went unanswered and he cursed out loud. He was heading out the door when he glanced at Natasha and said, “What was it that you were going to tell me?”

“With what you’ve got going on … be careful. I want you to stay focused.”

“I always am. What was it you were going to tell me?”

Natasha briefly reflected on her thoughts and said, “About how much I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Jack quickly kissed Natasha and hurried to his car. He tried to call Rodine several more times as he drove to the restaurant.

Laura was with Elvis in the restaurant foyer when they heard the squeal of tires approaching. Laura stuck the tissue back in her purse that she had been using to dab the smeared mascara off her face. Without thinking, she automatically used her hands to brush a wrinkle out of the front of her skirt before giving Elvis a quick kiss on the cheek. He watched as she ran in her high heels out to the car to join Jack, leaving Elvis thinking that under any other circumstances, it might have appeared funny.

“Where we going?” Laura asked, as soon as she closed the door.

“Over to Sy’s and see who he’s with. Tell him we want to see him about the apartment or something. Our friend isn’t answering. I left him a message to —” Jack stopped to answer his BlackBerry.

“Sorry, I couldn’t pick up,” said Rodine. “I was with Sy. You gotta get over to that teacher’s place. She’s been attacked and is tied to her bed. Probably less than an hour ago. I just found out.”

“We know. She’s at the hospital. Who did it and where are they?”

“Three kids. Juvies. I’ll be burned if you bust them.”

“I won’t burn you. Are they the same three as were in court today?”

“No, those guys are apparently at some Pizza Hut so they have an alibi. The three that did it just left here.”

“They were already there! Who are they?”

“I don’t know who two of them are, but the oldest one, Ray, lives in the apartment on the floor below Sy. He’s only seventeen, but looks older than the other two.”

“I’ve seen Ray coming and going from the apartment building,” said Jack. “What about the other two. Did you see them?”

“Yeah, I saw them, but they’re not from around here. They look to be about fifteen or sixteen years old. One has a purple Mohawk hairdo and the other has long black hair parted in the middle. Ray called Sy to meet him out front of the apartment. That’s when Sy told me what they did, so I walked out with him. Ray and the two others were waiting in Ray’s red Camaro. Sy gave them a case of beer and they drove off.”

“Son of a bitch,” muttered Jack through his rage. “Any idea where they might have gone?”

“Not really. Sy asked Ray what they did with the masks and knife. Ray said they put it all in a plastic bag and tossed it into the bushes when they drove past some park. Sy was pissed. He told them to go back and bury it so it would never be found.”

“What park? Do you know the name of it?” asked Jack, his mind pleading for the right answer.”

“I don’t know. They didn’t say. They left a couple of minutes ago.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” yelled Jack.

“They did say it was about a ten-minute drive from the teacher’s house, if that helps.”

Jack felt relief. “That helps a lot. Coming from Sy’s they’ll be using Highway 99, which means they’re coming in our direction. We’ll be waiting when they get to Richmond.”

“Man! You do that and I’m dead! You promised —”

“I know what I promised. Don’t worry, I keep my promises.”

Chapter Nineteen

Jack told Laura what he had been told while driving to intercept Ray.

“We can’t let them get away with this,” cried Laura. “Informant or no informant. We can’t sit by.”

“Do you really think I will sit by?” answered Jack tersely. “You know me better than that. We will protect our friend though. We gave him our word.”

“Then what can we do? Any arrest and they’ll know who told. Especially if we wait until they pick up the bag of evidence.”

“I’ve got an idea,” said Jack, coldly, “and it doesn’t involve arresting them.”

“Jack … no, we can’t. I know how you feel. I’d like to kill them, too. But we can’t. They’re still just kids.”

“Kids committing adult crimes,” replied Jack. “You know how things went in court today … and that was with the masks and a pellet pistol. What do you think will happen in court if they’re arrested without the hard evidence of the masks and knife?” Jack paused and when Laura didn’t respond, he said, “I can hear it now. If we get DNA to prove they were there, lawyers will get the kids to say they were enticed to Miss Flowers’s home on the pretext of tutoring them. She used her position to seduce and introduce them to the world of bondage. The kids went along with her, but one kid threatened to tell his buddies about it. They’ll say Miss Flowers threatened to charge them all with rape if that happened. The kid panicked and things got out of hand. They’ll cap it off by saying the kids were actually the victims of an adult. A teacher yet … a person in authority who used her power over them.”

“That’s far-fetched. A jury might not believe that.”

“Yeah, might being the key word. Especially without the masks and the weapons.”

Laura sighed and said, “Okay, okay. Even if you’re right … I don’t even want to think about it. But what do we do? Killing them isn’t an option. Anything else I would go along with.”

The rage Jack felt caused the tendons to go taut in his neck and his eyebrows furrowed, darkening his face. “I’ll tell you what the option is —” He stopped talking and Laura wondered if he was too angry to speak. “Hang on, incoming call,” he snapped, answering his cellphone.

“Jack, it’s Connie. The office said you called. You know what happened?”

“I know,” replied Jack tersely.

“You told me you were moving her to a safe place. How did you let this happen?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jack. His mind continued to cycle every detail in a futile attempt to figure out how he screwed up.

“You better find out, because so far, we got nothing.”

Jack realized he was clenching his jaw and that his fist was gripping his phone like a vice. He relaxed his muscles, but the vengeance he felt was as powerful as ever. “Believe me, we’ll find out,” he replied. “I’ve picked up Laura. How’s Amanda?”

“Her injuries aren’t life-threatening, thank Christ. I only spoke to her briefly. She said she was tied to her bed, repeatedly raped by three guys, and then they slashed her forehead multiple times with a knife. She’ll be badly scarred.”

“Where is she now?”

“She’s laying on a gurney in the holding area. A doctor is working on her face. After that, they’ll get her a private room where, hopefully, if she’s not too sedated, I’ll be able to talk to her in detail.”

“Not life-threatening if the nightmares don’t drive her to suicide,” said Jack, bitterly. “Do you really think she will be up to talking to you?”

“She’s traumatized, but not hysterical. She did say she is good with voices and is positive none of the three were the same guys as before.”

“Good with voices, is she?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t recognize any of them. Maybe they were adults or kids from some other school.”

“Cocktail used juveniles last time to alleviate any jail time if they were caught.”

“Do you have any leads for us?”

“No, we don’t have any leads at all.”

“Oh, man …” murmured Laura in the background.

“Then what are you doing?” asked Connie

“Talking it over with Laura. Trying to figure out who is responsible.”

“Responsible! You know it’s Cocktail! Probably went through Sy again. What’s wrong with you? Have you called your informant?”

“It’s kind of touchy talking to the informant right now,” replied Jack.

“Kind of touchy? I can’t believe this! Don’t you realize what happened?”

“I’m fully aware of what happened,” replied Jack. “We’ll do some digging and get back to you.”

“Yeah, well —”

Jack hung up his phone mid-sentence.

“Do some digging?” asked Laura. “Oh, man,” she muttered again.

“Not the type of digging you’re thinking of,” replied Jack, “but a skirt and high heels isn’t exactly the right thing to be wearing for what I have in mind. You wearing nylons?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Hang on, I’m going to phone Natasha.”

Jack rapidly punched the buttons on his BlackBerry. Laura listened as he asked Natasha if she could convince the hospital to delay moving Amanda to a private room.

“There’s no time to explain,” he said. After a pause, added, “Convince someone that you’re a doctor from another hospital. Say there’s been a multi-vehicle accident and it may be necessary to transfer some patients. Ask them to hold any rooms they can for an hour to give you time to assess the new arrivals.”

Laura saw Ray drive past in his red Camaro, as did Jack.

“Gotta go,” said Jack. “Use a payphone. Hopefully in an hour I’ll get you to call again and say the transfer isn’t necessary.”

“Take ’em off!” he yelled to Laura as he sped through traffic to catch up to the Camaro.

“Take what off?” asked Laura.

“Your nylons. Now!”

Chapter Twenty

Connie Crane looked down at Amanda Flowers as she lay on the gurney and tried to console her. Amanda’s forehead was swathed in bandages to stop the bleeding while they waited for a plastic surgeon to examine her.

“They’re supposed to move you to a private room,” fumed Connie, once more sliding open the white drape and peering out. “They don’t seem that busy.” She caught sight of the doctor who first examined Amanda and said, “Hey! You forget about us? You said we would be moved to a private room in a couple of minutes. That was forty-five minutes ago.”

“Sorry, something came up. A multi-vehicle pileup. Rooms are on hold for the moment until the situation can be assessed. We’re working as fast as we can.”

Connie walked over to the doctor and said, “Sorry, but it’s critical that I get a formal statement from the victim as soon as possible. Under the circumstances, I need to talk to her in private.”

“I’m sorry,” replied the doctor. “I appreciate your situation and have kept the spots on either side of you empty. That’s the most privacy I can offer at the moment and even that could change soon. I’m told we have three more patients being brought in with multiple injuries, so it is about to get busy. You may want to use what time you have now to talk to her.”

Connie grimaced, but nodded in agreement and returned to Amanda and pulled the curtain shut before taking out her notebook.

“Okay, Amanda, you’ve told me some of the details, but I need a full statement. You said you were in your kitchen near the back door when three guys in ski masks kicked the door open. They were brandishing knives and said they would kill you if you screamed. Is that right? So —”

Connie shook her head at the sound of running feet and loud voices as gurneys were slid in on both sides of the curtained enclosure. “This isn’t going to work,” she muttered, sticking her head out once more. She saw two uniformed RCMP officers, with notebooks in hand, about to enter the enclosures beside her. A young man was laying on a gurney out in the open and it was apparent that all of the private enclosures were occupied.

She recognized one of the officers. “What’s going on? An MVA?”

“No, this was no car accident. Some lunatic attacked three kids in a park with either a tire iron or a pipe. They said he was wearing pantyhose over his head.”

“Must’ve looked like a deranged rabbit.”

“He accused them of getting his daughter hooked on dope and started wailing on them. We have two victims with broken legs above their ankles, the other with a broken arm, and all three with broken collarbones. Actually, the oldest kid had both his collarbones broken. At least, that’s what the paramedics say.”

“Broken collarbones,” mused Connie. “Easy to do and it would disable a person’s ability to use their arms and hence their hands. Sounds like your perp has been trained in hand-to-hand combat. Could be a soldier. Did you catch him?”

“Not yet. We’ve got the dog handler out looking.”

“Sounds like they sold dope to the wrong person.”

“It could be mistaken identity. These kids claim it was their first time to the park. They’d gotten their hands on a case of beer and were drinking it and minding their own business when the attacker appeared out of the dark and started beating them. Must have been crazy … although he did have some conscience.”

“Why do you say that?”

“When he was finished, he used one of their cellphones and jabbed in 911 and put the phone in the kid’s hand so he could scream for help.”

Connie shook her head. What the hell is the world coming to? She looked at her colleague and said, “Well, good luck. Hope you catch him.”

Moments later, Connie saw the startled reaction on Amanda’s face when the voices of the new patients could be heard.

“It’s them,” she gasped, sitting up and grabbing Connie by the sleeve.

“Who?” asked Connie.

“The guys who attacked me,” she whispered. “I recognize their voices. Out there.” She pointed. “I’m positive.”

Connie looked at Amanda and whispered, “Lay quietly. I’ll check it out.”

Connie slipped out from behind the curtain to have a closer look at the three teenagers. She fought the urge to believe they could be that lucky. Amanda is in shock … could be a false reading to any young men’s voices she hears …

Connie looked at the youth who was laying on the gurney out in the open. Her pulse quickened when she spotted blood on the bottom of his running shoe. More on his shirt … but they were attacked …could be his own. She bent to examine the blood on his shirt sleeve.

“You a cop, too?” asked the youth, who had seen Connie talking with the uniformed officer.

“Yup.”

“You better catch the guy. Look what he did to me! I’m really hurtin’.”

“The uniformed officers are investigating what happened to you. I’m not here for that.” Connie made direct eye contact with the youth and added, “I’m investigating a woman who was attacked in her home tonight.” She saw his response. A flicker of fear … or could it be a reaction to a jolt of pain?

“I had a nosebleed earlier,” the youth said, instinctively trying to pull his arm away. He yelped in pain as the effort to move his arm was stopped by a broken collarbone.

Connie heard the crackle of the portable radio as the uniformed officer spoke. Could it really be them? To get a lucky break like this … She was only partially aware of a conversation droning over the police radio in the background. Nosebleed, my ass. Doesn’t explain how the blood got under his bicep and he’s acting nervous ... She momentarily forgot the blood on the sleeve as her brain triggered a response to the radio conversation. Something about a bloody plastic bag with ski masks found buried in the park?

“Yeah,” crackled a voice over the radio. “The police dog found it buried in the park close to where the youths were attacked. Contains ski masks … latex gloves … a bloody knife … the blood is fresh.”

Connie stared at the young man in front of her who glanced at the officer with the portable radio before looking sullenly back at her.

“That fuckin’ sucks!” he said, defiantly staring back. “Figures, the only way you pigs could catch anybody is by a fuckin’ fluke! Get me my lawyer!”

Chapter Twenty-One

It was midnight when Jack dropped Laura off at the office so she could retrieve a surveillance van. She was going to watch Sy’s apartment in the hope that the arrests might spark some activity. In the meantime, Jack was going to pay Gabriel a visit. He knew she would still be up.

“I’ll join you as soon as I’m finished,” said Jack.

“That might be soon if Gabriel slams the door in your face,” replied Laura.

Gabriel’s home was still a buzz of activity with the Forensic Identification Unit still hard at work in the basement. Any fear that Jack had about not being welcome was quickly overcome. Gabriel peered through a window after he knocked and flung open the door and hugged him.

“How is Amanda?” she asked.

“Her wounds are not life-threatening. She will, however, be scarred for life … emotionally and physically.”

“I hope she finds comfort in the Lord,” said Gabriel while using her fingers to wipe tears from her eyes. “Thank you for coming back tonight.”

“Thank me for coming? Gabriel, it was me who introduced you to Amanda. This wouldn’t have happened here if I hadn’t brought her over.”

“I guess not,” replied Gabriel. “Where do you suppose it would have happened, then?”

Jack found himself at a loss for words.

“Please. I’m glad you’re here. Come in and I’ll make you some tea. I … I need to know if we’re in danger.”

“No, you’re not in danger,” replied Jack. “Amanda was their target.”

“Because she was helping catch bad men who were selling drugs to the kids in her school?”

“Yes … something like that.”

“Are the same people who attacked her the ones who murdered Father Brown?”

“The youths who attacked Amanda tonight are not the same people, but belong to the same group … or groups of people that we suspect are behind Father Brown’s murder.”

“I don’t understand how someone could do that to another human being. Amanda was so nice. Still a child, really. If whoever did it doesn’t seek forgiveness, they could go to Hell.”

“Tonight, if I had my way,” replied Jack.

Gabriel looked at him sharply and said, “Vengeance is not ours. It’s God’s.”

“So I’ve been told,” replied Jack.

“Good. Come in. I’ll pour some tea.”

The next morning a meeting was held with Jack, Laura, Connie, and Sammy from Drug Section. Neither Jack nor Laura had been to bed yet, having spent the night watching Sy’s apartment building in a futile attempt to learn more.

Connie was late so Jack used the time to update Sammy on the investigation.

“You’re moving into Sy’s apartment this coming Friday?” asked Sammy.

“Yes. That’s when Laura and I become known as Jay and Princess. Will you still be able to help us out with surveillance or maybe a quick UC if the need arises?” asked Jack.

“Not a problem.”

“I still feel sick about last night,” said Jack. “Only Laura and I knew where Amanda was staying.”

“What about the landlady?” suggested Sammy. “Maybe she blabbed.”

“Gabriel?” replied Jack. “Not a chance. I went to her house and spoke with her last night. She’s too upset over what happened to Faith. There is no way she would say anything.”

“What about her other kid? The boy?”

“All Noah knew was that they had a new border. He didn’t even know her last name, let alone the circumstances of why she moved to —”

“Sorry I’m late,” announced Connie, striding into the room.

“Hey, Connie,” said Jack. “Where you been?”

“Doing police work,” she replied, pulling out a chair. “And speaking of police work,” she said, looking at Laura, “aren’t you a little overdressed?”

“Last night interrupted a date with Elvis,” replied Laura.

“You come up with anything?” asked Jack.

“As a matter of fact, I think I did,” Connie replied as she sat down. “I may have figured out how they found Amanda.”

“How?” said Jack, feeling the guilt contract his stomach and paralyze his lungs.

“I interviewed her this morning. She said she told the secretary at Queen Elizabeth her new address so some mail could be sent to her.”

“I told her not to tell anyone,” lamented Jack.

“I know. She told me, but said the secretary is an older lady, really nice, and would never tell anyone. I met with the secretary at her house. She is a nice lady. Unfortunately, too nice to think like a criminal.”

“Meaning?” asked Jack.

“Her office is open to everyone passing by. She stores the files in a cabinet that she locks at the end of the day. She doesn’t lock her office at lunchtime and can’t even remember if she put Amanda’s address away promptly or left it on her desk until later.”

Jack put his elbow on the table and covered his eyes with his hand. He wished he were alone right now. I should have told her that someone else would get her mail…

“It’s a big school,” continued Connie. Lots of students and lots of teachers coming and going. Everybody busy and nobody paying attention. You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I know how it is,” replied Jack, looking up. “How is Amanda doing?”

“Okay, all things considered. They are releasing her this morning. Her parents showed up and are taking her back with them to Victoria.”

“Seems soon,” commented Laura.

“I thought so, too, but I guess the hospitals are busy and her injuries are not serious. She will need to make a lot of visits to a plastic surgeon.”

“I suggested she go live with her parents before, but she refused,” said Jack.

“She’s not now. She doesn’t even want to go back to Gabriel’s to pick up her stuff.”

“I don’t blame her,” said Laura.

“When we’re done here, I’ll call the hospital and see if Laura and I can pick up some of it for her,” said Jack. “At least her purse and some clothes.”

“No need,” replied Connie. “I got uniform to do it.” She glanced at her watch and added, “Actually I imagine she’s on her way to the ferry as we speak.”

“What about her car?” asked Jack.

“Uniform delivered that to the hospital for her, as well. Her mother is driving it back so everything is looked after for the moment.”

“Anything from the punks who were arrested last night?” asked Sammy.

“No,” replied Connie. “They were demanding lawyers before I could finish reading them their rights.”

“Any evidence to link them to Sy?” asked Jack.

“Nothing,” replied Connie, tapping her pen on the edge of the desk while she pondered what could be done next.

“At least you guys got lucky last night,” said Sammy. “Hell of a good coincidence that the slimeballs ended up in the hospital next to their victim.”

“Yeah, sometimes we get lucky,” responded Connie. Her mind toyed over the word coincidence. She looked across the table at Jack. Coincidence was a word she knew all too well from past investigations. There were always coincidences when Jack was involved.

“So what’s next?” asked Sammy.

“We’re no further ahead on identifying Cocktail than we were months ago,” replied Connie. “I hate to think that your UC is our only option. It might be easier for your informant to wangle a meeting with Cocktail than either of you. Maybe your informant could wear a wire.”

“Out of the question,” replied Jack. “We promised our friend that we would never divulge his or her identity.”

“Witness protection?” suggested Connie.

Jack shook his head and said, “Our informant has lots of family members in the lower mainland. The Brotherhood knows a lot of them. If our source is burned, they’ll kill someone else if they can’t get their hands on the source. You saw what they did to Amanda. Imagine what they would do to one of their own who turned. Laura and I should be able to gain Sy’s trust. We’ve worked on smarter people than him.”

“Don’t forget,” said Sammy. “We’ve still got a dirty narc someplace.”

“I always presume there are dirty cops someplace,” replied Jack. “It pays to be careful all the time.”

“Even if you gain Sy’s trust,” said Connie, while glancing at Laura’s bare legs, “how do you plan on getting him to introduce you to Cocktail?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. Sy met him before. With Varrick out of the way, maybe Sy will be meeting him again.”

“So what will you do?” asked Connie, while watching Jack closely. “Follow Sy and hope he meets Cocktail someplace like a park where you could bump into them or something?”

Jack’s face remained unchanged and she wondered if her suspicions were unfounded.

“We need Sy’s trust first,” said Jack. “Then I’ll say we have a buddy, maybe Sammy, who is interested in setting up a lab. Do something to see if we can draw Cocktail out.”

“I could handle that roll,” replied Sammy. “How big is your buget?”

“Connie says we’re only authorized for twenty grand.”

“That’s not much,” commented Sammy.

“They’re not buying dope,” said Connie. “It should be lots to rent an apartment for a couple of months.” She looked at Jack and said, “Isn’t it? Things are tight. I had to beg to get that much.”

“We’ll see,” replied Jack. “I’ve already spent half of it.”

“What the hell you talking about? You haven’t even moved in yet!”

“Damage deposit, months rent in advance, furniture rental, renting a moving truck, dishes … other stuff,” replied Jack.

“That shouldn’t be much more than five grand,” said Connie. She looked at Jack and said, “What’s the other stuff?”

“Two new plasma televisions and two cases of Russian vodka,” replied Jack with a grin aimed at Sammy.

“What? You’re not serious?”

“Laura and I can never agree on which channel to watch, so we decided we would each get our own set.” Jack cast another smile at Sammy and added, “Also thought we should have some booze around in case we throw a party.”

“Yeah, right,” replied Connie. “You had me going there. I thought you were serious.”

Sammy grinned also. He was a trained undercover operator. He knew that Jack was serious … at least for what was purchased.

“Anyway,” continued Jack, “as long as we remain in the background and make sure we stay out of court, it could work. Speaking of court, I have a trial coming up in Victoria in a couple of weeks. The nutcase I bought coke from. It won’t interfere with doing the UC here.”

“One of the punks arrested last night lived in Sy’s apartment building,” said Connie. “I expect the three of them will be released soon to await trial.”

“So what,” replied Jack. “He’s never seen my face.”

Connie looked at Jack. I wonder if he’s ever heard you …

“What are you thinking?” asked Jack.

“Doesn’t matter, I guess,” replied Connie. “The guy has two broken collarbones. He can’t even wipe his own ass. I heard the nurses say he was moving back home with his parents so they could look after him.”

“Certainly a couple of lucky breaks last night,” said Jack.

Connie ignored the pun and said, “Getting Sy to introduce you to Cocktail won’t be easy.”

“We’ll figure out a way,” said Jack. “We’re operators. It’s what we do. Sy isn’t all that bright. He uses the kids, but in reality, Cocktail and the bikers use him. Getting him to trust us will be … like a walk in the park,” he added, giving Connie a shallow smile.

His remark caused her to drop her pen. She stared back at Jack, not bothering to pick it up. His face was without expression but she thought she saw a slight nod.

Coincidence, my ass!

Chapter Twenty-Two

At nine o’clock Friday morning, Jack and Laura, driving an SUV, arrived at Sy’s apartment complex followed by a local moving truck. Sy gave them the keys to their apartment and the underground parking garage. By three o’clock that afternoon they were completely moved in and unpacked. Their furniture was rented and their dishes and cutlery had been purchased from Walmart.

The two men who drove and unloaded the moving truck had another purpose. They were with a specialized unit of the RCMP. All rooms in the apartment would be bugged for safety.

At midnight Jack and Laura left the apartment and returned an hour later. They used a two-wheeled moving dolly to haul two new television sets up to their apartment. Jack left one television on the dolly outside in the hall and the other one on the floor inside the front entrance.

“Good as time as any,” said Jack, walking in to the bedroom which he knew was above Sy’s apartment.

Jack checked his watch and then jumped high in the air and landed with a loud thud. Fifteen minutes later he jumped again. A repetition of four more followed before they heard Sy bang on the ceiling with a broom handle.

“He’s really getting mad now,” commented Laura.

Two jumps later, an enraged Sy appeared in the hallway outside their apartment. Jack pretended not to see him as he struggled with the dolly and said, “This is the last one, Princess.”

Sy appeared behind his shoulder and saw Laura dragging a large cardboard box that she had lifted by one end. She spotted Sy and let the box drop, making a loud thud.

“What the hell are you two doing?” seethed Sy. “It’s after two o’clock in the fucking morning!”

“Damn it, Princess!” said Jack. “Were you dropping them all like that? This is an apartment. You have to remember to keep the noise down.”

“They’re heavy,” she said. “I’m not a weightlifter.”

Jack turned to Sy and said, “I’m really sorry. A friend of mine was supposed to move this stuff tonight and his truck broke down. He called me at midnight in a big panic to help take a few sets off his hands.”

“Consider this your first and last warning,” replied Sy. “I live right below ya. No more fuckin’ noise or you’re out!”

“I understand completely,” replied Jack. “As an apology, I’ll give you this last set.”

Sy looked at the box and said, “It’s a fifty-inch plasma television set … the box hasn’t even been opened. You’re giving it to me?”

“Yes, I think it should be a good set,” replied Jack. “My friend is … uh, in the electronic business. These are … uh, extra sets that nobody wants. Out of date or something. Give me a hand and we’ll haul it down to your place. The only thing is there is no warranty. If something ever goes wrong with it, don’t try to get it fixed on warranty.”

Sy smiled. Rodine had told him that Jack was connected to the Irish mafia and into moving stolen property. He had a feeling that he and his new tenants would become good friends. At least, he hoped they would.

The following Monday night, Sy awoke to one loud thud coming from above. After that, everything was quiet. At noon the next day he answered a knock on his door.

Jack stood there with a sealed case of Russian vodka.

“Hi, Jay. What’s this?” asked Sy.

“I dropped one of these last night,” said Jack. “Sorry about that. I bet it woke you.” He handed the case to Sy and said, “A gift for you.”

“You’re giving me a dozen bottles of vodka?”

“Yeah. I … uh, have a friend in the liquor business. It didn’t cost me anything.”

“No warranty?” said Sy with a smile.

Jack chuckled and said, “Yeah. No warranty against headaches.”

“If you’re not up to anything, how about having a drink with me?” suggested Sy. “We could watch a movie on my new television. It works great, by the way.”

“That’s good. A drink sounds good, too. Mind if I go get Princess?”

“Not at all. I think we have enough,” replied Sy, hoisting the case of vodka for emphasis.

“Well, if we run out, I’ve got more,” said Jack.

By mid-afternoon, Sy had guzzled enough vodka mixed with Red Bull that he had loosened up a little. He looked down at his dirty jeans and rumpled shirt and cast a glance at Jack and Laura, who were dressed in trendy clothes.

“You guys do alright, doncha?” Sy said.

“We do all right,” admitted Jack.

“Yeah, I can tell. Come with me a sec, will ya? Want to take a little walk. You don’t mind, do ya, Princess? I’ll bring your man right back.”

“I don’t mind,” replied Laura. “It will give me time to pour another drink.” One without vodka.

Outside in the hallway, Sy said, “I make a rule of never talkin’ business inside my place. You never know who is listenin’.”

“Good rule,” said Jack. “Back east I used to have my places swept once a month. Then I figured it was smarter not to say anything inside.”

“You had your places swept … man … your cousin told me that … you know, you were connected. I didn’t realize how big. Plus I thought that was back east.”

“The world is getting smaller,” replied Jack. “We have a lot of friends. Some are out west.”

“Shit, I can see why ya got friends. You are one generous guy.”

“Ah, hell,” said Jack, brushing off his comment. “That’s nothing. Chump change. My friend did get his truck fixed, so most times we’ll use a proper storage place. The other night with the truck breaking down and the storage locker closing, we were in a bind.”

“Chump change? That television ain’t no chicken feed to me.” Sy looked at Jack suspiciously and said, “The way you’re dressed and everything … your watch … necklace … you got money.”

“I get by.”

“So why move into a dump like this?”

“This isn’t our only place,” replied Jack. “I don’t believe in putting all my eggs in one basket. Along with my friends, I’ve also made a few enemies along the way. I like having more than one place to hang my hat. Rodent said you were a solid guy. Someone who could keep his mouth shut. Figured it would be a safe place if we needed one.”

“Your, uh, other place is a little nicer, I bet,” said Sy.

“One is. I’m not exactly the trusting sort. Only Princess knows the location of my other places.”

“One is?” repeated Sy. “Man, that’s smart. Maybe somethin’ I should think of.”

“You have enemies?” asked Jack.

“Did your cousin tell ya much about me?” countered Sy.

Jack shrugged and said, “I know my cousin is a chef.”

“A chef? Oh, yeah,” chuckled Sy.

“I presumed you were in business with him.”

“We do some stuff together,” admitted Sy. “But do I have enemies? Fuckin’ right. Things are gettin’ hot. A guy has to be careful.”

“Hot! If you have heat then I’m not staying here,” said Jack, sounding angry. “Rodent didn’t say anything about the police sniffing around.”

“No, no. Not that kind of heat,” Sy assured him. “It’s the competition. People encroachin’ into places they shouldn’t.”

“Ah, I see,” replied Jack.

“We’ve been tradin’ messages back and forth.”

“Good to communicate,” said Jack.

Sy smiled and said, “Not the type you’re thinkin’ of. The kind where you drive fast …” As he spoke, Sy used his hand to simulate firing a gun. “You ever do that?”

Jack shook his head and said, “Nope. That attracts the police and usually doesn’t accomplish anything. I prefer the magician’s act.”

“The magician’s act?”

“Make the bunny disappear.”

Sy smirked and said, “You are one cool dude. You into the powder?”

“I don’t use. I like to keep my brain intact.”

“No, I don’t mean usin’. I mean making money off it.”

“Dope is something I’ve kept away from. Too risky for me. I have an aversion to going to jail.”

“Fuck, man. You’re not back east now. We’re in B.C. Things are different out here.”

“So I heard.”

“Besides, if a guy is smart, he don’t take risks himself. You get the YDUs to do that.”

“YDUs?” asked Jack.

“The young, dumb, and uglies,” laughed Sy. “Come on, let’s go back inside. Maybe I’ll invite a couple people I know.”

The drinking in Sy’s apartment lasted several hours. During that time, a few young people came and went. They were of mixed ethnic background, including Asian and East Indian. Jack doubted that few of them were older than their early twenties.

One exception was Brewski, who lived next door to Sy. He showed up with a teenaged girl hugging him around his waist. The girl had a good figure and wore a low-cut sweater to show off her ample breasts. Her light brown hair was curly and cropped short. She could be attractive, thought Jack, if she didn’t look like a hardened slut.

“Brewski is my right-hand man,” slurred Sy in a drunken whisper to Jack. “Not like all these other fuckin’ YDUs.”

Brewski heard the comment and stood a little straighter. He was proud to be identified as being important to Sy. Jack smiled to himself. Sy isn’t overly bright, but Brewski is even slower.

“Meet my girl,” said Brewski. “Lorraine, say hi to Sy’s new buddy.”

“Well helloooo,” Lorraine crooned, unwrapping herself from Brewski and running her hand down Jack’s chest.

Jack remembered Lorraine Calder from the investigation into Julie Goodwin’s suicide. It was difficult to feign friendship. “Time for me to check with my own girl,” he said, and walked over to join Laura.

“Time to slip away?” Laura asked. She had witnessed Lorraine’s arrival and knew that it would not be good to make an enemy out of Brewski.

“Yes, I’ve had about all I can stand.”

“You’re telling me,” whispered Laura. “I’m old enough to be most of these kids’ mother. If I hear one more sentence start with, so like, this is cool dude or so like, this is rockin’, I think I’m, so like, going to slap someone.”

Over the next week, Jack and Laura became better acquainted with Sy, who was beginning to open up more and more. One afternoon, Jack walked down the one flight to visit with Sy and saw him talking to a man in the hallway. The man, in his early thirties, was obese with a shaved head that showed the rolls of fat on the back of his neck. He quit talking and nudged Sy as Jack approached.

“Hey, Sy,” said Jack. “Princess is out shopping. I hate sitting alone, so wondered if you were up to having a beer?”

“Hell of a good idea,” smiled Sy. “We’re done business here, anyway.” Sy introduced his acquaintance as “Munch.”

“You want to join us?” Sy asked Munch.

Munch shook his head and said, “Gotta take care of business.”

“What, you headin’ to a buffet someplace?” asked Sy with a smile.

“Fuck you,” said Munch, chuckling. “I did that at noon.”

As Munch walked away, Sy looked at Jack and said, “He’s a good guy. Someone solid who is on my side of The Brotherhood.”

“The Brotherhood?”

“We used to be independent gangs, but there were problems. We thought if we met and talked, maybe we could resolve our problems. Like in the movies with those New York families.”

“Sounds professional.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. It was my idea. So the seven biggest gangs formed a coalition and we called ourselves The Brotherhood. For a little while, things were great. We even did business with each other.”

“What happened?”

“Ah, next thing ya know, squabbles started breaking out over new territory. Then we started fighting over what had long been our own turf. It’s gotten that you never know when some fucker will drive by and take a shot at ya. Two of the other gangs are on my side. Munch is the boss of one of ’em. The boss of the other gang is a guy called Mongo.”

“You mentioned last week that you were involved with drive-bys,” said Jack. “It’s good that you have some allies. Are you at war with all of the other gangs?”

“Three for sure. The fourth one is riding the fence.”

“Sounds like you should convince the fence-rider to go your way. Make it four against three.”

“I’ve tried.”

“Maybe he’s trying to play you against each other and is hoping to come out on top when the smoke clears,” suggested Jack.

Sy’s face darkened and he said, “The fuckin’ dirty Indo’! You think so? That would be Rashard’s style.”

“I don’t know the guy, but I’ve encountered similar problems back east.”

“What did you do about it?”

“Start making friends. People you can trust. The more the merrier. The bigger your group, the less chance someone will want to mess with you. It isn’t any fun if you’re worrying about dodging bullets all the time. The idea is to make money and enjoy life. If you have to share a little of the profits … well who really cares as long as you’re still making lots.”

Sy stared at Jack momentarily and said, “I like how you think. Some day I’d like to be top boss of all these fuckers. The thing is, I know of six other guys who want the same thing.”

“Mongo, Munch, Rashard, and three others?”

“Yeah, three others,” replied Sy, looking irked that Jack had paid such close attention.

“Well, glad I’m not involved,” said Jack. “I’d never want to be the boss. Too much pressure. It was one of the reasons I moved out west. People wanted me to step up and be boss. For a while I made all the right moves, but after meeting Princess, I decided I didn’t want it. I like feeling safe and comfortable. Speaking of which, it makes me nervous hearing about stuff that’s none of my business. How about a beer and watch a movie or something?”

Sy studied Jack briefly. Good, he doesn’t really want to talk about it. Can’t be all that interested.… Maybe I didn’t fuck up by sayin’ too much. “Yeah, sounds like a perfect plan,” replied Sy. “Come in to my place. I got a two-four of Lucky.”

Over the next three cans of Lucky beer, Sy brooded more and more about what Jack had told him. Curious background, he thought, glancing at Jack. He is one smart fucker. If I can get him to trust me more, I bet he could help me with some of the right moves. Like in The Godfather movie … I’d be the top boss and maybe Jay could be my fuckin’ consigliere or whatever the fuck it is called.

Sy looked at Jack and said, “You up to anything Saturday night?”

“That’s two days from now. I don’t think I am, but I’m not sure, I’d have to check with Princess. Why?”

“My YDUs are havin’ a party at a house that a couple of my guys are rentin’. I gotta make an appearance. I tell ya, it would really be doing me a favour.”

“I’m not much for hanging out with kids,” replied Jack.

“Me, either. That’s the point. I feel like a loser at my age showing up alone at a party with a bunch of bubble-gummers. With you there, I can make an excuse. Say we’re goin’ someplace else after.”

“Why not go with Brewski?”

“He’s got some business to take care of.”

Jack nodded and said, “Okay, as long as I drive. If you decide to stay, then Princess and I can leave.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate that. I don’t want to stay long, either. Drop by and throw a few goodies around, have a couple of beer, give a few dumb fucks a pat on the back and then split.”

Later that night, Jack and Laura had a meeting with Connie, Sammy, and Dan Mylo from the Integrated Task Force. Everyone was pleased with how much progress had been made. With the information Jack provided, Dan and Sammy agreed to apply for wiretap authorizations on all the main people.

“The bug monitors are going to be swamped,” said Sammy.

“At least now we know who some of the guys are who are calling the shots,” said Dan. But you’re right, they are going to be busy.”

“Make sure you keep Laura and me out of court,” said Jack.

“I’ll check with the prosecution,” said Sammy. “If it goes to court we will try to keep it on a case-by-case basis. Worse comes to worse, we withdraw a charge.”

“Speaking of which,” said Connie, “Don’t you have a court case tomorrow?”

“In Victoria,” replied Jack. “Not to worry, I’ll be on the seven o’clock ferry in the morning and should catch an afternoon ferry back. I checked with Victoria. None of McCall’s current associates know me, so even if they do show up, I should be okay.”

“Good,” replied Connie.

“It’s going to be good when they slam the door on McCall,” said Jack. “Victoria PD is concerned. They want me to wear Kevlar and are assigning a four-man bodyguard team to accompany me to court.”

“What do you figure he will get?” asked Connie.

“His record includes three convictions for dealing cocaine and he was only out of jail two weeks when he sold to me. In any other province I would expect him to be sent away for six or seven years, but knowing our justice system here, I’m guessing more like three or four years.”

“Good luck,” said Sammy.

“I’ve also called Amanda,” said Jack. “I’m going to meet her for a coffee after court. I’ve got a bunch of her effects that I gathered up from Gabriel’s.”

“I’ve been wondering how she is doing,” said Connie. “Hope she is well enough to give a strong testimony when the time comes.”

“I hope so, too. I’ll let you know. Tomorrow is also when Ngoc Bích testifies against the two Vietnamese brothers for the rape, beatings, and imprisonment in one of their brothels. I’d appreciate it if you stayed close to her tomorrow.”

“I know about her trial,” said Connie. “I’ve been assured that there is extra security already.”

Jack stared at Connie without speaking.

“Okay, I’ll be there, too,” said Connie.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief and smile. The system is working as it should …

Tomorrow would drastically change Jack’s opinion regarding that.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jack walked into the Victoria courtroom and immediately saw a look of disappointment cross McCall’s face, followed by anger as he whispered to his lawyer, who glanced at Jack, before turning back to McCall.

Jack quickly surveyed the courtroom. His four bodyguards moved past him and took up strategic positions. Jack smiled to himself. He was pleased for two reasons. The first was that McCall actually showed up. The second was the sight of the young lawyer with McCall.

Jack guessed it was the lawyer’s first year of practice. Jack was a seasoned veteran in the courtroom and knew he would come out on top with any comments the young lawyer would throw at him while testifying. The truth will prevail!

Perhaps the lawyer sensed so, as well. He changed the plea to guilty. Jack listened as the prosecutor read in the circumstances of the drug sale, McCall’s lengthy record, his only being out of jail two weeks before the crime and — what Jack thought was a nice touch — the fact that McCall had remained legally unemployed ever since his arrest. Someone did their homework ... Jack glanced at Dave Valentine who grinned and gave him the thumbs-up.

Jack listened as the fresh-faced lawyer stood to address the judge. He explained that the reason his client had not been able to obtain employment was because of the severe psychological stress that his client had been subjected to by the RCMP.

Jack glanced at the members of the Victoria PD who were in the courtroom. He could tell by the puzzled look on their faces that they were also confused.

“You see, your Honour,” said the lawyer, “Corporal Taggart, the RCMP officer who purchased the drug from my client —” The lawyer paused to point at Jack who returned the judge’s gaze. The lawyer continued, “— did not tell my client that he was an undercover operative prior to the sale. As a result, my client has been left emotionally scarred and has a strong distrust for people, leaving him unable to obtain employment.”

Jack did his best to suppress a chuckle. Being a new lawyer is one thing, but to say something as ridiculous as this … the judge is going to eat him alive.

The judge reflected on what he had been told. His brow furrowed and he glowered at Jack.

Jack’s mouth dropped open in shock. Something is terribly wrong! The judge is looking at me with utter disdain; like I’m a piece of dog shit stuck to his shoe … he can’t be going along with this!

Jack stood in a trance as the judge handed down his sentence. McCall was given four months of house arrest.*

“What does this mean?” a bewildered Jack asked the prosecutor.

“It means McCall will have to be home by nine o’clock at night if he isn’t out working or seeking employment.”

“You’ll appeal?”

The prosecutor shook his head and said, “It wouldn’t do any good.”

Jack stumbled out of the courtroom like a blind man with a lobotomy. He felt like he was in another world. A place without any logic or common sense.

*[As outrageous as it would appear, the circumstances concerning this court case are factual and were personally experienced by the author. Only the names have been changed. Circumstances of a court case involving “Ngoc Bích,” which follow later in the chapter are also based on fact.]

Amanda answered the door at her parents’ place and gratefully accepted several boxes of her personal effects that Jack had brought with him. Her parents were out shopping and after Jack had unloaded the car, she invited him inside for a coffee.

Amanda was wearing bangs down to her eyebrows. She was much thinner than before and her face was pale. It was obvious she wasn’t going outside much.

“How did your court case go today?” she asked.

“He plead guilty,” replied Jack, hoping she would drop the subject. “How are you really doing?”

“Not well. Guess it takes time.” She looked inquisitively at Jack and said, “You once told me that you were in an Intelligence Unit and didn’t go to court.”

“This was an exception. I had originally hoped to gain some information to help solve Father Brown’s murder. My target had connections to The Brotherhood. I’d hoped to turn him into an informant, but after meeting him, decided he was too dangerous to let off. Anyway, I’m sorry that you’re not doing well. Do you want to talk about it?”

“What did he get?”

“Who?”

“The cocaine dealer you were in court for.”

“Nothing, really,” said Jack, trying to keep his emotions in check.

“Nothing?”

“Four months’ house arrest. If he’s not seeking employment he is suppose to be home by nine o’clock at night.”

Amanda stared hard at Jack for a moment and asked, “Why do you bother?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jack, hearing his voice crack. “I feel ridiculous. Risked my life for nothing.”

“The Brotherhood were also responsible for having me attacked,” said Amanda. “So you were here working undercover on something that might have helped me.”

“Guess you could put it that way, but at the time, it was to help Homicide find someone they are looking for.”

“You shouldn’t say you risked your life for nothing,” said Amanda. “You risked it for me and people like me.”

“Still doesn’t change the result,” said Jack.

“You said Homicide are looking for someone. Can you tell me anything about it? It sounds like you know who you are looking for?”

“How are you at keeping secrets?”

“You have to ask?” replied Amanda, as small grin flashed across her face. “I’m the one who went behind Mister Bloomquist’s back to try and see justice served.”

“Have you ever heard the nickname ‘Cocktail’?”

“No.”

“We’re trying to identify him. We’ve heard a rumour that he has control over some of The Brotherhood. He is the same person who ordered your assault. If anyone finds out that we are looking for him, he may disappear forever. It is also imperative that my real identity be kept secret from The Brotherhood.”

“I won’t tell a soul.” She stopped talking and stared off into space as her body started rocking back and forth in her chair.

“Tell me about your therapist,” said Jack, gently. “Do you get along well? Sometimes you need to meet a couple of therapists before you find someone you click with.”

“Maybe. She seems nice, but it’s not really helping yet.”

“It’s going to take time.”

“I know. My therapist told me. Years. She warned that going to trial could upset things further. Reliving the memories could cause any progress to backslide completely.”

“Sometimes you have to take one day at a time. If you need someone to talk to, I’m only a phone call away. The trial could be a long way off. Time will make you stronger. Another friend of mine was beaten and sexually assaulted. She is testifying today. A couple of years ago she felt like you, but today is looking forward to seeing her attackers held accountable.”

Tears came to Amanda’s eyes and she blurted out, “I’m not that strong.” She paused to take a couple of breaths and to regain her composure before continuing. “Even if Cocktail is identified, I’ve decided I’m not going to testify. Against him, or the three who did this to me,” she added, brushing her bangs to one side to reveal the ugly red scars across her forehead.

“Are you afraid they’ll come after you again?” asked Jack.

“No. I’m too angry and depressed to worry about that. I just don’t see testifying as doing any good. It would just depress me further. I know you think I’m a terrible person. I should worry about who they’ll attack next … but I’m not up to it.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person,” replied Jack, “but knowing the judges, if you refuse to testify, there is a good chance they would put you in jail for contempt of court.”

“They would put me in jail?” Amanda gave a shrill-sounding laugh.

“They take it as a personal affront if you disobey a subpoena.”

“A personal affront?” Amanda started crying and Jack sat beside her and put his arm around her shoulder.

“Then I don’t want you to find him,” sobbed Amanda. “Same for the three who attacked me … promise you’ll find some way to drop their charges if they don’t plead guilty.”

Jack briefly closed his own eyes to block the tears. “Charges have already been laid against the three,” he said. “I’m sorry, it is out of my hands, but under the circumstances, I doubt that any defence lawyer would want to chance you taking the stand. They will likely plead guilty on the pretext of feeling bad for what they have done. I imagine that they will be sentenced to a couple of years in juvenile detention.”

“And Cocktail? He won’t plead guilty. No way. He may have ordered it, but you know damn well he’ll never admit it.”

Jack didn’t respond. He didn’t know what to say.

“I bet you wouldn’t convict him regardless,” added Amanda. “Or if you did, maybe he would end up with four months’ house arrest like your cocaine dealer.”

Briefly, Jack wondered about telling Amanda that if Cocktail was convicted of bludgeoning a retired priest to death with a rock, he would likely plead guilty to Amanda’s case and serve a concurrent sentence. What am I thinking? We don’t have any evidence that he committed the murder, either. He’ll likely walk on both charges.

Jack glanced at Amanda’s face. He felt sickened and angry. How can I go on, pretending to represent justice? I really should quit. Why waste the taxpayers’ dollars with this charade?

“You never answered,” noted Amanda. “I’m right, aren’t I? Cocktail will never face justice for what he did to me.”

Jack remained silent for a moment, before gripping Amanda by both shoulders and staring intently into her face.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep … so believe me when I say I will find Cocktail and that … justice will be served.”

Jack caught the three o’clock ferry home. It was cold and windy, but he didn’t notice as he stood outside on the upper deck and stared into the waves. His BlackBerry rang and the call display told him that it was Ngoc Bích. He quickly answered and stepped inside where it was quieter.

Ngoc Bích was crying, but managed to blubber out that the court case had gone ahead. The judge, in his summation, said that he could not accept the credibility of Ngoc Bích and the other witness over two respected businessmen. After all, said the judge, both witnesses had been prostitutes. The case was dismissed.

Jack tried unsuccessfully to console her. When he eventually hung up, he went down to his car and wept.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Jack told Natasha over dinner about the two court cases and Amanda’s desire not to go to court. She sat quietly, slowly chewing her food.

“Nothing to say?” asked Jack.

“What can I say? It’s horrible,” she replied.

Jack watched her eat and said, “It’s not like you to be so quiet. You have been a lot lately. Is there something bothering you?”

“I’m bothered that you are so unhappy and stressed about your work.”

“I’ll get over it.”

Natasha shook her head and put her fork down. “I doubt you ever will, but you better find a way to deal with it emotionally. The stress will affect your health. Eventually cause you to make decisions you regret.”

“Decisions such as …?”

Natasha chose to ignore the question. She picked up her knife and fork to attack a piece of steak and said, “I love you. I always want you to come home alive.”

Jack saw her eyes water. He felt guilty that his work was affecting her.

“I want you to be the happy,” she continued. “I want to spend more time with the loving and caring guy I know. Is that too much to ask?”

“No, it’s not too much to ask. I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have unloaded on you.”

“Of course you should unload on me. I’m your wife, but even if I wasn’t, as a doctor, I know enough about stress and what it can do to the human body.”

“I’ll take it easy.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” she said crossly. “I know you better than that. But you do need to learn to accept the things you can’t change. You did your job. Don’t blame yourself for what some judge decides.”

“Yeah, I know. Life isn’t fair.”

“It certainly isn’t,” replied Natasha.

Jack spent the rest of the evening staring at the television. He didn’t really watch any programs. It was a way to try and blank out his brain and give it a rest. Natasha understood the ritual, but wasn’t pleased when Jack told her that he would be working Saturday night. She had that night off and valued what precious time they had together.

It was a long night for Jack. It took several hours to fall asleep. When he did, he found himself on a ladder washing Father Brown’s blood off the back of the house. It became more smeared and spread farther as he scrubbed. It was hard to reach because the ladder kept sinking into the ground. Eventually his cleaning worked and the blood disappeared. No, it hadn’t. Like magic, as only a nightmare could be, the blood kept reappearing. More streaks and splashes than before. He climbed the ladder again … it kept sinking.

It was nine o’clock Saturday night when Jack and Laura drove Sy to the party. The house turned out to be a ramshackle rental with an overgrown yard and a single-car garage. The house had been painted yellow, but huge chunks of paint had peeled away. Street lights illuminated a couple dozen other cars parked nearby. Several young people milled around outside on the front porch.

“Guess we’re not the first,” commented Jack. He glanced in the rearview mirror as he parked on the street and made eye contact with Laura in the back seat. She smiled at the sound of the heavy metal music vibrating the gutters on the house.

As they entered the house, Sy introduced Jack and Laura to two men in their early twenties who went by the nicknames of “Roach” and “Bagger.”

“These are the guys who rent the joint,” said Sy, while handing Bagger a flat of canned beer.

Jack nodded and glanced back at the street before stepping inside. He saw a brown van arrive with dark tinted windows on the side and rear. He knew that Connie and Sammy were inside to watch and scoop licence plates. Hopefully many of Sy’s gang would be identified. Unfortunately, they knew that the people above Sy would not be attending.

Sammy immediately left the van and pretended to walk away. Later he would return to slip unnoticed through a side door on the van. On his way back to the van, Sammy took the opportunity to jot down a licence plate of another carload of young people who had parked near Jack’s SUV and gone into the party.

Movement caught his eye and he saw that a teenaged boy with a ponytail had stepped out from behind a nearby pickup truck and was staring at him.

“You kids cause any vandalism tonight and I’m gonna call the cops,” said Sammy, before walking away.

“Fuck you,” replied the boy, taking a long drag on a joint before walking back to the house.

Sammy later snuck back to the van and lightly tapped on the side door. Connie unlocked it and let him inside.

“Might have been spotted writing down a plate,” he said. “Any action in the last couple of minutes? Anyone come out to look around?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” replied Connie.

“Good. Maybe the little asshole was too stoned to see straight.”

A moment later the van rocked as it was nudged by a car parking behind it. The car was full of young people who were laughing as they got out and headed for the party.

Sammy saw that the car had blocked them in. He chuckled and said, “It looks like we may be here until the party is over. When does our overtime kick in?”

Roach and Bagger’s house was filled with young people. Jack and Laura split up, with Laura mixing with the young women while Jack tried to socialize with the males.

Sy enjoyed the attention he received and Jack knew it gave him a sense of power. Jack also had the feeling that Sy was trying to impress him. A good sign. The more he tries to impress me, the more he will open up.

“Hey, Bagger!” yelled a female voice from the front door. “Where are ya?”

Jack turned and recognized Lorraine as she arrived with a younger girl.

“Hey, Bagger!” yelled Lorraine again. “Come and meet Cassandra. She’s the one I was telling you about.”

Bagger appeared through the crowd and made a show of ogling Cassandra, who blushed. Bagger smiled at Lorraine and asked, “Where’s Brewski?”

“He might come later.”

Bagger nodded and looked at Cassandra and said, “Get ya a drink? I make a good margarita.”

“No,” replied Cassandra. “My parents would smell it. I’m not allowed.”

“Vodka won’t smell. One won’t hurt,” said Bagger.

“Yeah, come on, Cassie,” said Lorraine. “Don’t embarrass me by acting like a geek.”

“Okay, I guess one won’t hurt.”

Jack moved through the crowd for another hour before returning to the living room to sit on the sofa. He was quickly joined by Lorraine.

“So, like, you are Sy’s new buddy?” she asked.

“We’re getting to know each other,” replied Jack.

Lorraine stared at him as if trying to make her mind up about something, before saying, “You know, I like older guys. You got more money and know how to please a woman.”

Before Jack could reply she ran her hand up the inside of Jack’s thigh and said, “Come with me out to my car. I think I lost my contact lens in the back seat. You could help me look.”

“Not interested,” replied Jack.

“Why?” replied Lorraine in surprise. “You gay? Nobody has ever turned me down before. I can’t believe this.”

“I’m not gay, but I’ve got a girlfriend. She’s around here someplace. You’ve met her before.”

“So who gives a shit? I’ve got a boyfriend, too. We won’t be missed. Come on,” she said, reaching over to caress his groin.

Jack slapped her hand away.

Anger flashed across Lorraines face and she said, “I know your problem, you’re too old. Need me to lip-start it for ya?”

Before Jack could reply, Lorraine muttered, “Fuck you,” and stood up abruptly and walked away.

Outside, Connie and Sammy saw a four-door green sedan parked nearby, with two young men in the front seat and a third in the rear.

“What are they up to?” asked Sammy. “It’s cold tonight. I don’t see any exhaust. They’ve shut the car off.”

Connie adjusted her binoculars and saw a telltale red glow. “Smokin’ a joint,” she replied. “Wonder why they don’t go inside?”

“Maybe they have a better appreciation of music,” replied Sammy, “and are too stoned to know how cold it is.”

Jack tried to pretend that he was enjoying himself and mingled as best he could in the crowded room. Later, he overheard Bagger talking to Lorraine.

“Where is she?” asked Bagger, looking around.

“Went upstairs to use the bathroom. What do ya think?”

“She’s fuckin’ beautiful. Roach thinks so, too.”

“Told ya so. Hope you have fun.”

“That’s guaranteed.”

“Good. So, you got a present for me?”

“Of course,” replied Bagger, digging into the pocket of his cargo pants. “A deal’s a deal. The blow is on me,” he said, passing her a small paper flap. “Got a new rig for ya, too.”

Jack saw Lorraine put the cocaine and needle in her purse as he departed for the kitchen to find Sy.

Sy was in the kitchen playing a drinking game with several young men. Jack saw Laura standing behind them. She rolled her eyes at him as she gestured to Sy. The men were sitting on the floor in a circle, each with a bottle of beer in front of them. On top of each bottle was an upside down bottle cap. They took turns, flicking other bottle caps with their fingers to try and knock off the cap on their opponent’s bottle. If successful, the loser had to gulp down the beer and start with a fresh bottle. Judging by the empties beside Sy, he had been losing a lot.

Jack bent over and patted Sy on the shoulder. “What time were you thinking of leaving?”

“I don’t know. How about after one more beer,” replied Sy, before falling over on his side. Everyone laughed and Jack pretended to be amused as he helped Sy back into a sitting position.

“We should go,” suggested Jack.

“Yeah, I do feel polluted,” replied Sy, “Give me ten more minutes to finish this last drink, will ya?”

“Ten minutes and Princess and I are gone,” replied Jack, looking at his watch. “I’ll use the washroom and be right back.”

Jack went to use the washroom on the main level, but someone had vomited on the floor.

“There’s another one upstairs,” said a young man with a ponytail.

Jack went upstairs and came upon a group of guys standing in the hall outside a bedroom door. He made his way past and into the washroom. Moments later, he heard the bedroom door open and Bagger say, “Hey, she was a virgin. Can you believe it! Another one.”

“Bullshit,” said another voice.

“Ain’t bullshittin’ yeah, man. Go take a look.”

“Fuckin’ A. Wished she had popped her cherry with me instead of you.”

“What the fuck, you’re next, anyway.”

“Still not the same. Ain’t never had a virgin.”

When Jack left the washroom he happened to follow Bagger down the stairs and into the kitchen. Upon arriving in the kitchen Bagger raised his fists above his head and danced a little jig.

“Bagger! Ya bagged another one,” laughed one of the youths who was sitting on the floor. Before Bagger could reply, the youth flicked a beer cap between his fingers, striking Bagger in the face.

“Hey, Fucker!” yelled Bagger, tackling the youth and rolling around on the floor, knocking over drinks as the two combatants laughed at each other.

“Time to go,” said Jack, grabbing Sy by the arm to help him stagger to his feet.

Sy agreed and they made their way out to Jack’s SUV. Laura got in the back seat, while Sy climbed into the passenger side as Jack started the engine.

“So,” said Jack, while pulling out of the parking space, “I was wondering how Bagger got his nickname. I thought it was from selling baggies of weed.”

“Oh, fuck no,” replied Sy. “He got it for all the chicks he bags. He’s always getting laid.”

“A real smooth talker with the ladies, is he?” asked Laura.

“Not much talkin’ involved,” mumbled Sy. “I know a guy, Cocktail, who keeps us connected with GHB. Ya know what that is?”

Jack nodded.

“There’s a reason they call it the date-rape drug,” slurred Sy. “Bagger’s too fuckin’ ugly to get laid without it.”

The conversation between Lorraine and Bagger and the introduction of Cassandra flashed into Jack’s brain. The realization and the rage he felt instinctively caused him to slam on the brakes. He briefly wondered who he wanted to kill first. Bagger and the other young men standing in line waiting to take their turn with Cassandra, or the slobbering drunk sitting beside him.

“Jay,” said Laura quietly from the back seat, “didn’t you say you had a friend who was in the market for GHB?” She sensed his anger and her question was meant to both caution and remind him that their real objective was to identify Cocktail.

“Why ya stopping?” asked Sy, looking around, completely clueless as to the rage Jack felt.

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

“Why we stoppin’?” Sy asked again.

“A cat ran out in front of us,” replied Jack, as he commenced driving again. “You mentioned a guy by the name of Cocktail. With a name like that, what is he, a bartender?” asked Jack, feigning a chuckle.

“No. Forget about him.”

Connie and Sammy had watched as Jack, Laura, and Sy came out of the house and got into their SUV to drive away. As soon as Jack pulled away, the green sedan also drove off in a hurry.

“Coincidence?” suggested Connie. “They did start their car a couple of minutes before Jack and Laura came out.”

“Shit!” yelled Sammy. “They’re unrolling the rear windows! Hang on,” he added, throwing the gear in reverse and ramming the car behind them.

“What the hell you doing?” yelled Connie.

“They’re smokin’ a joint. Not likely they’re going to let the smoke out of the car without reason. Besides, it’s cold out.” He rammed the car behind them a second time and said, “Damn it, we’ll never catch up in time. Why are you sitting there? Call Jack!”

“Tell him they’re being followed?”

“Being followed? Jesus, Connie!” yelled Sammy.

“I don’t work drugs. What the —”

“It’s a hit!” screamed Sammy. “They’re going to shoot them!”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Jack stopped behind a car parked in the centre lane at a red light when his BlackBerry rang.

Laura caught the eye contact Jack made with her in the rear view mirror. Something’s up …

“Hi, Aunt Connie,” she heard Jack say. “Calm down. Take a breath and talk quietly,” he added, pressing the receiver tight to his ear so Sy wouldn’t hear.

“You’re being tailed,” said Connie excitedly. “Three assholes in a four-door green sedan. They were sitting in the car watching the house and smoking a joint. They left as soon as you did and rolled the rear windows down. Sammy thinks they might be getting ready to shoot you.”

Laura saw Jack check the side mirrors before riveting his attention back to the rearview mirror. This time he wasn’t looking at her.

“Your pit bull is missing again?” replied Jack. “You can’t find it? That’s a dangerous animal to have on the loose.” He saw Laura’s head swivel as she looked out the windows.

“What are you talking about? Did you hear me?” asked Connie.

Jack saw the green sedan slowly pulling up alongside the passenger side of his SUV.

Sy drunkenly looked at Jack and said, “Your aunt has a pit bull? Good breed to have, man. She got a grow-op or somethin’?”

“Everyone down!” screamed Jack, ducking down. Through his peripheral vision he saw Laura scrambling to the floor.

“What the fuck ya doin?” roared Sy, when Jack clenched his collar with his fist and jerked him below the dash.

Jack’s verbal response was not necessary as a barrage of bullets sent a shower of broken glass on everyone inside.

Jack cranked the steering wheel hard to the right and stepped on the gas. His car rammed the sedan, temporarily knocking the shooter off balance as the SUV sped forward. The sedan’s squealing tires announced it was in hot pursuit as both vehicles raced down the street and turned a corner.

“Princess,” yelled Jack, tossing his BlackBerry into the back seat. “Talk to Aunt Connie. I’m kind of busy.”

“Busy! You fuckin’ nuts?” screamed Sy.

“Hi, Aunt Connie,” said Laura. “Sorry to hear Fang took off on you again. Where are you looking for him? … Oh, yeah. Remember last time he was about two blocks west of there. You’ll probably hear him bark if you call and listen.”

As Jack wheeled through the traffic, he glanced over to see Sy with a pistol in his hand while winding down what was left of the passenger window.

“Hey, fuckers!” Sy screamed, while drunkenly leaning out the passenger window and trying to aim.

“Don’t!” yelled Jack, grabbing Sy by the belt on the back of his pants and yanking him back inside while swerving into the right lane to block Sy’s target from view.

“What the fuck? Who’s side ya on!” yelled Sy angrily. “Stay on the left side so I can shoot these fuckers!

“I’ve got a better idea,” yelled Jack, not wanting a drunken Sy to let loose with a handgun and endanger the wrong people. “I’m going to brake and ram. If you’re hanging out the window they’re liable to shoot you. Either that or you’ll fall out when I brake hard.”

“Brake and run? What are ya talkin’ about?” screamed Sy, his words barely intelligible from a combination of alcohol and fear.

“Not run. Ram! Keep your head down and trust me. You’ll see shortly.”

Jack veered back to the left lane and drove as if he were intent on racing away. The sedan was more powerful and soon started to edge up along the passenger side once more. Jack slammed on the brakes and the sedan surged past before the driver had time to brake.

It was what Jack was waiting for. He stepped on the gas and rammed the left rear corner of the sedan, sending it spinning clockwise out of control before smashing sideways into a power pole. Steam billowed out from the crumpled hood of the sedan and one wheel was bent over from a broken axel. Seconds later, the occupants were climbing out and running in different directions.

“That’s Weasel!” yelled Sy, pointing to the shooter who had bailed out of the back seat. “I recognize that fucker! Back up so I can finish him!” he said, once more hanging out the window with his pistol.

Jack grabbed him by the belt and hauled him back inside. “Some other time!” Jack yelled. “The cops are here. I see a red light on the dash of some van comin’ up fast behind us. Time to split.”

Moments later, when they were safely away from the scene, Sy looked at Jack and Laura and said, “You two gotta be the coolest two people I’ve ever met.”

“That shit was nothing,” replied Jack, as casually as he could.

“What do you mean, nothing! Fuck man, you saved my life.”

Don’t remind me, thought Jack. He glanced at Sy and said, “You ever hear about the west-end gangs out of Montreal?”

“Oh, yeah. Old time gangs … Irish … heard they used to cut off body parts.”

“My old man was a member all his life,” said Jack. “I was raised in that shit. This is nothing. More annoying than anything. One of the reasons Princess and I moved out here was to get away from it.”

“Man … how you both handled that back there.” He looked back at Laura and said, “You too, talking to your aunt like we were out for a Sunday drive.”

Laura shrugged, pretending it was nothing. Hope I didn’t pee myself …

“Who does Weasel work for?” asked Jack.

“He’s part of Balvinder’s gang,” replied Sy.

“You once told me that there were three gangs you were at odds with. Who are they?”

“Besides Balvinder, there’s Fateh and Quang’s gangs, but I know Weasel is with Balvinder,” said Sy.

Jack nodded as he wheeled through traffic. His adrenaline was still high and he kept one eye in the rearview mirror.

“Where did you learn to drive like this?” asked Sy, with a tinge of suspicion. “You handled yourself back there like you drove NASCAR.”

“Used to drive a cab once,” replied Jack.

“That figures.”

“Know anyone in the auto body business?” asked Jack.

“Damn right. Don’t worry about the bullet holes. I’ll have it fixed for you first thing Monday. No charge. I owe ya, man.”

Jack parked the SUV in the underground parking lot at the apartment complex and they went to Sy’s apartment.

Brewski, armed with a pistol and a sawed-off shotgun, said he would spend the night with Sy. Jack told Sy that he and Princess were going to return to their other apartment until they knew things were safe. Sy understood their concern. He said he would be calling a meeting with some people tomorrow and asked Jack if he would come. Jack said he would think about it.

Jack called a taxi and he and Laura were driven to an expensive apartment complex near Stanley Park. After a brief walk to ensure it was safe, they called Connie who gave them a ride back to their office.

Jack and Laura then spent the next two hours typing reports. Jack also called his boss, Staff-Sergeant Rosemary Wood, who demanded a meeting with him at eight in the morning.

It was two-thirty in the morning when he arrived home. He was surprised to see Natasha awake and reading in bed. She quickly put her book away and gave him a warm smile as he entered the bedroom.

“How are you doing? she asked.

“I’m great,” he replied, still feeling euphoric that he was alive.

“You sound happy. Have you gotten over yesterday’s court cases?”

“I don’t think I will ever get over it,” said Jack reflectively, “but I do appreciate that some things in my life are more important.”

“Oh? Such as?”

Jack paused and said, “Coming home to you.”

Natasha stared intently at Jack for a moment before smiling and saying, “Glad you finally have your priorities straight. How soon will it be before you’re finished this assignment? A week? A month? Longer?”

“The bad guy I was with tonight mentioned the nickname of the man I’m trying to identify. It shouldn’t take long. Some stuff is happening. I have to work tomorrow … early. It could wrap up within the week. Why?”

“Selfish reasons. I want you to myself. Sounds like I won’t have you tomorrow, either.”

“I’m here now,” Jack replied, reflecting on how close he had come to catching a bullet or two.

“Physically, yes, but I can see your thoughts are elsewhere. They have been a lot lately.”

“Sorry. It’s hard to concentrate sometimes. I really want to catch this guy.”

“I understand that part. There is always someone you really want to catch. I accept that and I want you to be able to concentrate on your work and come home safe. I don’t see you a lot, so when I do, it would be nice if you thought of me and not some criminal.”

“I’m sorry.” Jack stared briefly at Natasha and said, “Are you okay? You’ve seemed really tired lately … kind of run down.”

“It’s late. Damn right I’m tired.”

“You shouldn’t have waited up. I could have slept at the UC apartment.”

“No, when you called at midnight, I said I wanted you to come home. It’s Saturday night … I want my guy to sleep with.”

“To sleep?” said Jack, suggestively, as he bent over and kissed her on the nape of her neck.

Natasha smiled and said, “That, too. So hurry and come to — hey, you’ve got broken glass stuck in your sweater. Looks like windshield glass.”

“Oh … that,” replied Jack, as he stood up and saw where Natasha was pointing. “I was in a fender bender tonight and rear-ended somebody. Nobody was hurt.”

“I thought you sounded strange when you called. Sounding all lovey-dovey.”

Jack shrugged and smiled in response.

“A rear-ender … sounds like your fault. See? You do need to concentrate on what you do.”

“I’d like to concentrate on your body.”

Half an hour later, Natasha’s breathing told Jack that she was asleep. He felt too anxious to sleep and wondered what tomorrow would bring.

Car chase and shoot-out on the streets.… The brass will go nuts. Sy was going beserk when I left him.… Somebody is going to die …

Chapter Twenty-Six

Whiskey Jake was the president of the east-side chapter of Satans Wrath. It was not yet eight o’clock on a Sunday morning when he arrived at the mansion belonging to Damien, the national president of the club. He didn’t question the order to attend.

He stopped at the electronic gate outside of Damien’s estate and looked into the closed-circuit television camera. Seconds later, the gate swung open and he drove inside. He parked his Mercedes beside a green Jaguar that belonged to Lance Morgan, who was the president of the west-side chapter. He then walked over and pressed the intercom button beside the main entrance and stared into another camera.

“Hi, Whiskey Jake,” responded a woman’s voice. “They’re out back. Go around the side. I’ll bring you a coffee.”

Vicki was Damien’s wife. At thirty-seven, she was eighteen years younger than Damien. Whiskey Jake thought she was sexy and attractive, but even though he was a giant of a man who towered over Damien, he knew better than to even fantasize when it came to Vicki. His loyalty to the club was above all else.

Whiskey Jake lumbered around to the back of the house and met up with Damien and Lance who were sitting in a gazebo near Damien’s swimming pool. Whiskey Jake hadn’t sat down yet when Vicki brought him a coffee.

“Black,” she said matter-of-factly, “two sugars,” before returning to the house.

Without comment, Damien and Lance stood up and the three men went for a walk. Damien had his house swept for bugs on a regular basis, but even in his gazebo he would not take a chance.

“Okay,” said Damien. “Sounds like The Brotherhood are at it again. First thing I hear on the news when I wake up is about a car chase and shootout on the streets last night. The police haven’t made any arrests, but are speculating that gangs involved in a turf war are responsible.”

“Yeah, I heard it on the way over,” said Whiskey Jake.

“First, what is the plus side?” asked Damien.

Whiskey Jake said, “The drive-by shootings have taken the heat off of us. Last night will help some more. The cop’s Organized Crime Task Force will focus on the shooters in The Brotherhood. Strictly bottom-end people. Maybe they’ll make a few arrests, seize some guns, get some publicity, and try to make themselves look good. Nothing to affect our club.”

“And the negative side?” asks Damien.

“Might affect our business to a small degree,” responded Whiskey Jake.

“Could do more than that,” said Lance. “Politicians could use public fear to posture for votes, maybe strengthen gang laws under the Criminal Code and give the OCTF more funding and manpower as a result of the shootings.”

“And?” prompted Damien.

“The OCTF might find out that we are supplying The Brotherhood with meth and GHB,” continued Lance. “Once the OCTF knock off the dumb shits in The Brotherhood, they’re not going to want to disband and lose their power. They’re bound to come after us next.”

“Exactly,” said Damien. “We need to educate The Brotherhood. The harder it is for the police to nail them, the more insulation we have, and the more police resources will be spent on The Brotherhood.”

“They’re a bunch of punk kids,” said Whiskey Jake. “Hard to organize and they won’t like it if they realize we’re taking over. We know the leaders, but we don’t know who all they control or how many they got.”

“Exactly why we should make a move. Discreetly start grooming a leader to take over The Brotherhood. Someone to gain power over them and make it easier for us to control.”

“Like a mole,” said Lance.

“Exactly,” replied Damien. “Pick someone we already control. End their war before the police use it as an excuse to ask for more money and resources. Allow The Brotherhood to set up a couple of dummy bosses underneath whoever we pick as a protective layer for us.”

“Like the canary in the coal mine,” said Lance.

“Precisely. At the moment, they have too many bosses, which is another reason there is so much conflict.”

“Right now they have seven bosses,” said Whiskey Jake.

“Which are too many idiots if we are to control them properly.”

“Maybe we should cut their number down?” suggested Whiskey Jake.

“Exactly what I have in mind, but with all the heat over these shootings, the timing isn’t good for us to openly do it ourselves. It could also have the potential of backfiring on us. The Brotherhood might realize we are the bigger threat and unite against us.”

“So how do we do it?” asked Whiskey Jake.

“We need to figure out which side is winning and go with them,” replied Damien. “We need someone with more brainpower than the current bosses to move things along. How about Cocktail?”

“He’s got the smarts,” said Lance. “Both sides of The Brotherhood deal with him and know we back him. They trust him and know he would never expose himself by being a boss. Makes them trust him more. He’s also smart enough not to double-cross us.”

“Good,” replied Damien. “Tell him to pick who he thinks is going to be the winning side, then offer to help them out. Set the losers up to be taken out all at once. Professionally. No more idiotic drive-by-shooting shit.”

“You got it,” said Whiskey Jake.

“In the meantime, except for Cocktail and his action, tell all our guys to stay clear of The Brotherhood.”

“After last night, the heat will be all over them,” agreed Lance.

“Plus, the dumb shits will probably retaliate immediately instead of waiting,” said Damien. “Give everything a few days. Once the air clears a little, tell Cocktail to meet the bosses and provide us with an assessment. Make sure our prospects are around to ensure secrecy and security with Cocktail. If there is any doubt, abort. I don’t want the police to ever connect him with us or The Brotherhood.”

“So once a stronger side emerges, we’ll eliminate the weaker side,” said Whiskey Jake.

“Yes, but not us personally,” replied Damien. “Get them to do it. We’ll give Cocktail some … professional advice that he can pass along. Get the losers in one spot. Take care of them all at once and make sure their bodies never surface.”

“He could use a pretext that we have ordered a truce meeting for them to straighten things out,” suggested Lance.

“That would work,” replied Damien. “Anything to get them all together in a place without witnesses. Won’t be as much heat if they disappear. Especially if their money disappears at the same time.”

“I think they’re smart enough not to use banks,” said Lance.

Damien nodded and said, “But I doubt they are sophisticated enough to launder or use offshore accounts. Tell Cocktail to get the losers to give up their cash before they dispose of them.”

“Torture the fuckers first,” said Whiskey Jake, as if he was going over his own mental checklist.

“Cocktail can split it amongst himself and the winning side,” continued Damien.

“If we take out three or four of their bosses,” said Lance, “with the number of punks out there and a lack of leadership, there could be a lot of retaliation on an undisciplined level.”

“If shit really goes wrong, we’ll claim Cocktail was acting on his own,” said Damien. “If it goes well, the winning side should feel indebted. As far as retaliation goes, without their leaders the kids will fold pretty fast. For a brief time it might draw a lot of police scrutiny, but all we have to do is wait it out and make sure we don’t get caught in the middle.”

Satans Wrath would not have to wait long to see who the weaker side was. Jack would be placed firmly on that weaker side … and targeted for assassination.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Jack and Laura arrived at the office at quarter to eight on Sunday morning and saw that their boss was already there.

“Come in, have a seat,” said Staff-Sergeant Rosemary Wood, gesturing to the two chairs in front of her desk. She waited until they were seated and said, “Well?”

“You read our reports?” asked Jack, pointing to the papers on her desk.

“I read them,” she said, matter-of-factly. “Driving like a couple of lunatics while shooting and smashing up cars on our public streets. It must have been quite a night.”

“It was,” admitted Jack.

“Both of you feel you are okay to work?”

“We’re fine,” both Jack and Laura said in unison.

“You’ll need to see the Force psychologist.”

“We know.”

“I’m sure you do. Be nice to the man, he is only trying to help.”

“Don’t worry, Rose. We’ll be nice and say the right things,” said Laura.

“For sure,” agreed Jack. “I don’t want him recommeding stress leave.”

“I know you will say the right things,” replied Rose, shaking her head. These two make a living out of fooling some of the toughest people on the planet. Our poor shrink won’t stand a chance. She looked at them and said, “About last night, it was a miracle nobody got hurt.”

“The incident was over within thirty seconds,” said Jack.

“A lot of people can get hurt in thirty seconds,” replied Rose.

“I know, but under the circumstances I did what I thought was best.”

“You never shot back … I take it you weren’t armed?”

“No. Seldom are when we’re undercover.”

Rose nodded and said, “After you called me last night, I called Isaac.”

Jack sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Assistant Commissioner Isaac was the criminal operations officer who oversaw all the operational investigations in the Pacific region. He wasn’t someone you would bother at home without serious consideration. More so, when the call was made after midnight.

“How did he take it?” asked Jack.

“Well, he wasn’t exactly happy,” replied Rose, “but you won’t be kicking your Stetson up the highway to Nunavut Dog Sled Patrol, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Good. What did he say?”

“When I woke him up to say that you had been involved in a … situation, he groaned and muttered, “not again” and asked who was dead. When I said that the situation did not result in anyone’s death … that is correct, isn’t it?” asked Rose, while scrutinizing Jack’s face.

“So far,” replied Jack.

“So far?”

“Sy is planning retribution. He asked me to attend a meeting with him today.”

“You mentioned that last night and Isaac is in agreement that you do attend to find out what you can and to defuse the situation if possible.”

“If possible,” replied Jack.

“Naturally, you won’t take part in any retribution yourself.”

“Naturally,” replied Jack.

“Good. Isaac wanted that made clear. Also, he was relieved that nobody was hurt, but was irate that none of the perpetrators would be charged. I explained that you two couldn’t go to court because it would burn your informant. He didn’t like it, but agreed. Maybe later other evidence will surface where charges could be laid without you having to appear in court.”

“Sy would never co-operate,” said Jack. “Even if he did, with his record of violence, a jury wouldn’t exactly feel sorry for him.”

“Well, in the end, Isaac said perhaps it was a blessing you two weren’t going to court because he knew how it would play out with the media if they ever found out.”

“So everything is okay, then?” asked Laura.

“In my view, Isaac’s response was pragmatic. He said that under the circumstances, it would appear that what you did was reasonable given the situation.”

Both Jack and Laura exhaled loudly and smiled at each other.

“He told me to tell you, Jack, that his response may have been different if someone had been killed.” Rose looked sharply at Jack and said, “I am to tell you specifically that he means citizens, good guys … and bad guys.”

“That goes without saying,” replied Jack, furrowing his eyebrows slightly as if indignant.

“I’m not the Force shrink,” said Rose. “I know you better, so don’t try to con me.”

“Sorry,” replied Jack. “Force of habit.”

“Are you going over to see Sy when we’re done here?” Rose asked, changing the subject.

“I’d like to hold off until later in the day. The Organized Crime Task Force has some wire up and running. It would be nice to know if anything comes across the phones that might help us figure out if more attacks are planned. I’m also concerned that Connie and Sammy saw Weasel and his cohorts start their car before we left the party. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Rose snickered in spite of the seriousness and said, “You of all people say you don’t believe in coincidences? Hell, that’s been your middle name ever since I arrived in this office.”

“You know what I mean,” said Jack. “There’s a good chance Sy has someone in his gang who is working for the other side.”

“And we don’t mean our side,” said Laura.

Rose nodded, sighed, and said, “Be safe, the both of you.”

“Yes, Mom. Both hands on the wheel,” replied Jack.

Rose furrowed her eyebrows to feign anger at the remark.

Jack looked at her and said, “Deception doesn’t suit you. Maybe that’s a good thing.”

Rose pursed her lips before saying, “Go. You’ve got work to do.” She waited until they left the office before smiling at how easily Jack had seen through her.

It was suppertime when Jack and Laura arrived at Sy’s apartment. In the previous hour Sy had called Jack a couple of times, but his calls were ignored. It was a control issue and Jack wanted to be in control.

“Where the fuck you been all day?” asked Sy, as they entered his crowded apartment. There were only males in the apartment and the atmosphere was a combination of excitement and tension.

“Princess and I had to go rent a car and then we went to help my aunt find her dog,” replied Jack. “Why?”

“Why? This is fuckin’ why!” said Sy, picking up a sawed-off shotgun and waving it in Jack’s face, before nodding toward the door and saying, “Come on, let’s you and I take a walk.”

Laura kissed Jack on the cheek and said, “Don’t be long. Princess might get bored.”

As soon as Jack and Sy were alone in the hallway, Sy said, “We found out where Weasel is stayin’. We’re gettin’ him tonight.”

“Tonight!” replied Jack.

“Yeah. He’s staying with his girlfriend.”

“Have you ever heard the expression, ‘revenge is a dish best served cold’?” said Jack. “There’ll be lots of heat. If you wait, they’ll relax their guard.”

“We’re gonna do it. If you don’t want to come, then don’t.” Sy looked suspiciously at Jack and said, “Fuck, man, they shot at you and Princess, too. I thought you would want in.”

“I do, but something stinks,” replied Jack.

“What are you talkin’ about? The only thing that is gonna stink is Weasel’s corpse!”

“Who told Weasel and his buddies about the party?”

Sy shrugged and said, “I dunno.”

“How did they know it was you last night when it wasn’t your car?”

“Probably watchin’ the place. Saw us leave.”

“It was dark when we left. People coming and going. Easy to see silhouettes, not so easy to see faces.”

“What the fuck are you tryin’ to say?”

“That you have a leak. Someone tipped them off last night. This could be a trap.”

“Naw, ain’t no trap,” replied Sy. “Roach and Bagger got lucky. Rounded up a guy by the name of Raven who knows Weasel’s girlfriend. Raven talked as soon as they rammed a gun in his face. He told us Weasel is staying with his girlfriend in the basement of her parents’ house.”

“Roach and Bagger kill Raven?” asked Jack, nonchalantly.

“Naw, not necessary. Roach and Bagger are holding him at their house so Weasel can’t be warned. What Raven told us checked out. I had one of my guys drive past the house half an hour ago. Weasel’s car was parked in the alley behind the house.”

“Same car as last night?” asked Jack.

“Naw, didn’t you hear the news? They used a stolen car last night. His is a blue Honda. If it’s there, we’ll sneak up, kick in the door, and blast the shit out of him and his bitch.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before saying, “I’m telling you, after last night … you heard the news. The cops could be watching everyone. If they know it was Weasel, they’ll be expecting someone to take revenge. You should wait until things cool.”

“Fuck that.” Sy cast a sideways glance at Jack and said, “You saved my life last night, but now you’re actin’ weird. If you’re worried about us gettin’ hurt, don’t. I got a team of seven guys, not countin’ you an’ me. We got enough firepower to blow the whole house to smithereens. So … you comin’ or not?”

Jack sighed and said, “Yeah, I’ll come. Give me a minute to tell Princess I’m steppin’ out. How long will we be?”

“The place is out in Maple Ridge. Better count on being gone a couple of hours.”

“What you got for wheels?”

“Brewski will drive a van with cool plates. Me, I got a little five-litre Mustang that the guys boosted. Goes like a bullet. The owner is on holidays, so it won’t be reported.”

“Hope it’s not white?”

“It’s black. Why?”

“Good. Harder to spot at night. If we’re going to do it, let’s do it right. Start with letting me drive and have the van follow.”

“Why?”

“Because when we leave, I’m going to drive in circles for awhile. Make damn sure nobody is following us. Tell Brewski to do the same.”

“Okay, you proved your driving ability last night,” replied Sy. “You can be the wheel man, but when we get there, I’m first through the door.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” replied Jack.

Jack quickly updated Laura as they walked back to their rented apartment above Sy’s.

“Oh, man,” said Laura. “Bust them and we’re burned. Don’t and we’re party to murder. Any ideas?”

“OCTF should be able to come up with an address on Weasel’s girlfriend. Tell the narcs to drive over there and empty the garbage off their floor mats out front and in the alley behind. When we arrive, have the Emergency Response Team do a takedown. I’ll stall as long as I can to give everyone time to set up.”

“You’re going to have them arrested? We’ll be burned. They’ll figure it out.”

“Maybe … maybe not. I have an idea.”

Minutes later, Sy opened the trunk of the Mustang parked in the underground parking lot. “Take a look,” said Sy, as he smiled and pointed to a duffle bag.

Jack opened the bag and saw four handguns, four sawed-off shotguns, and an AK47 automatic machine gun. “Hell of an arsenal.”

Sy nodded and kept the AK47 for himself, along with one of the shotguns for Jack, before passing the duffle bag over to his gang members, who were parked beside the Mustang in a van. Seconds later, Sy ordered two of his people to ride in the back seat of the stolen Mustang while the others went in the van with Brewski.

“Let’s roll!” ordered Sy.

Jack spent an hour driving around in circles before an exasperated Sy told him enough was enough. Jack drove as directed to a residential area in Maple Ridge. When they arrived, Sy indicated a house halfway down the block. “Pull over,” said Sy. “I see his blue Honda parked out front now.”

Jack pulled over to the curb and Brewski pulled in behind him. At the opposite end of the block a set of car headlights came on and the driver sped away. “One of your guys?” Jack asked.

“No,” replied Sy. “I didn’t want Neighbourhood Watch or someone reporting anything suspicious. That’s probably a neighbour. Don’t worry about it.”

“It pays to worry sometimes. Tell the guys in the van to drive around the area and check things out. It’s not good for both of us to be parked together. While Brewski is doing that, I’m going to park on the next block and you and I will walk back. Let’s see if anyone is sitting in parked cars.”

“Fuck, man, you’re paranoid.”

“You stay alive that way … and out of jail.”

“Yeah, okay,” muttered Sy, before giving the order for Brewski to circle the area.

Jack parked the car in the next block and said, “Let’s leave our artillery in the car. I don’t want to be seen walking down the street carrying these cannons. If it is the cops they’re liable to see it and grab us.”

Sy agreed and left the AK47 in the car and told his two associates to wait while he and Jack checked things out.

As Jack and Sy arrived at the end of the block from Weasel’s house, Jack pointed to the ground and said, “Damn it, I knew it.” He pointed to the empty parking space at the end of the block where the car had driven away when they first arrived.

“What?” replied Sy. “I don’t see nothin’.”

“Cop droppings,” said Jack, pointing to the sidewalk and road.

“Cop droppings?” replied Sy with a snicker. “What the fuck are you talking about? Looks like sunflower seeds.”

“A buddy of mine got busted once,” replied Jack. “They had his house under surveillance first. He told me later he knew where they had been parked by all the sunflower seeds they ate and the husks they spit out while watching his place.”

“You shittin’ me?”

“No. We should get the hell out of here. Tell the boys in the van to scram.”

“Over some seeds? You gotta be kiddin’. Hang on.”

Jack listened as Sy ordered the van to cruise through the area and check.

“That could draw heat,” cautioned Jack.

“You’re fuckin’ paranoid,” replied Sy with a chuckle. “Come on, we’ll head back to the car. If the boys haven’t spotted anything suspicious by then, we’re goin’ in.”

“Let’s walk down the back alley first and check it out,” suggested Jack.

“Yeah, okay, but if the alley is clear, we’re gonna do this fucker.”

“Sounds good,” replied Jack.

They had barely made it into the alley when Sy received a call.

“The cops got us pinned!” screamed Brewski. His warning wasn’t necessary as the sharp, piercing sound of sirens cut the night air from several different locations.

Two police cars with lights flashing entered each end of the alley simultaneously and zoomed toward Jack and Sy.

“Come on,” yelled Jack. “Over the fence!”

Jack and Sy both clamoured over a wooden fence and raced through someone’s backyard, out through the front and crossed the street to another yard and kept going. Three blocks away they were in another yard and about to run out a gate into a rear alley, but the sound of another car speeding up the alley caused them to crouch down behind some bushes while peering through the back fence.

Jack glanced at Sy and saw he was holding a pistol at the ready.

“Jesus, Sy,” whispered Jack. “I thought we left the artillery in the car in case the cops searched us.”

“After last night I started carrying an ankle holster,” Sy whispered.

Both men froze as a flashlight beam cut through the darkness behind them. Jack looked over his shoulder and saw the distinct yellow stripe on the uniform trousers of a policeman who walked toward them. His beam was still probing the bushes when Jack saw Sy raise his pistol and take aim.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Laura sat in the back of a surveillance van with Connie and the commander of the Emergency Response Team. The Organized Crime Task Force gave them an address in Maple Ridge for who they thought were the parents of Weasel’s girlfriend, but had added a disclaimer that their information was a month old. Did Weasel still have the same girlfriend?

With the address being in Maple Ridge, Laura felt relatively confident that it was the same, but when she saw Jack arrive in the Mustang, followed by Brewski in the van, she breathed a sigh of relief.

The surveillance van was parked across the street one block down from where Weasel was living and offered a relatively good view of the front street and one entrance to the alley.

The ERT commander groaned when Jack parked the Mustang and the van started to circle the neighbourhood. “Wished we had more time to set up and organize,” he said.

“What do you mean?” asked Laura. “Jack made them drive around for an hour before they even left the city. I thought you guys were good? How much more time did you need?”

The commander ignored her comment as their earplugs crackled a message from another member of the ERT.

“T-1 and T-2 out of the car and walking back toward the house.”

Laura used binoculars to watch through the one-way glass in the surveillance van and soon saw Jack and Sy come into view as they walked along the sidewalk. She smiled when Jack stopped and pointed at the sunflower husks while talking to Sy.

“These two are the guys we let escape, right?” crackled their earphones.

“Affirmative,” replied the commander.

Laura continued to watch as she relayed what was happening to Connie and the commander. “They’re heading back down the street,” she whispered. “If they follow the plan they should be going down the alley.” Seconds later, Laura confirmed that Jack and Sy were entering the alley.

“Teams one and two, are you in a position to take out the vehicles?” radioed the commander.

“Team one, ten-four.”

“Team two, ten-four.”

“Team three, ready for the alley?” asked the commander.

“Team three is ready.”

“All teams go!” radioed the commander. “Team three, make it look good but let them run.”

“Copy that,” replied several voices barely heard over the eruption of sirens.

Seconds later, Laura smiled when they received the first report.

“This is team one. We have five targets secured and kissing asphalt.”

Moments later, the second team also reported that the arrests of two more targets had gone without incident.

The radio crackled again and Laura heard, amongst laughter, a voice say, “Team three here. We got two rabbits leaping fences and backyarding it northbound from the alley.”

“Copy that,” replied the commander. “Stay in the alley and make some noise.”

Laura heard the sound of a garbage can being kicked over and saw lights come on in several houses as people awoke to the sound of the clamour taking place.

“This is team one,” the radio announced, “we’ve recovered enough weapons to start a small war.”

“Likewise for team two.”

Laura smiled at Connie and said, “Perfect. I love it when a plan comes together.”

“Yeah, and the law didn’t come into it,” said the commander

“The law?” asked Laura.

“Murphy’s law.”

“Guess all your worrying was for nothing. Mind dropping me off at my car? I should be getting a call soon.”

“Not a problem,” replied the commander, gesturing for Laura to hold on for a moment as he received a radio call from the telecommunications centre.

“Are you still at the same location?” asked a feminine voice.

“Ten-four,” replied the commander. “Just mopping up.”

“Uniform spotted two men running through someone’s backyard three blocks north of your location. We have one member in pursuit on foot and the other circling the block in the car.”

Laura’s eyes flashed her concern as she looked at the commander.

“They were told to stay clear!” replied the commander into his transmitter.

“I advised them that,” replied the woman, “but they said they heard sirens and believed your takedown was finished. They said two were escaping, so they decided to help.”

“What channel are they operating on?” asked the commander.

Laura felt her stomach knot as the commander contacted the patrol car and said, “Who am I talking to?”

“Constable Gibson,” came the reply.

“Clear the area at once! Leave the pursuit to us!”

“Uh … I can’t get hold of Constable Farthington,” replied Gibson. “He turned his portable radio off to sneak up on someone.”

Laura grabbed the radio and said, “Gibson, this is Constable Secord. I don’t have time to explain. You need to get Farthington back to the car immediately. Get out and fire three shots into someone’s lawn. Do it now!”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

As the flashlight beam came closer, Jack stood up and walked between Sy and the officer.

“Hi, officer,” said Jack. “I’m glad you’re here so fast!”

Jack blinked as the flashlight beam found his face. “Who are you?” demanded the voice behind the flashlight. “Keep your hands where I can see them!”

“It’s not me,” said Jack indignantly. “I’m the one who called 911. There were two of them,” he said. “They ran through my yard a moment ago. They went that way,” he added, pointing back between two houses.

“Oh … uh, I see,” replied the officer. “Okay, uh …” he didn’t finish as he took a step in the direction Jack pointed, before turning around.

Come on! Go! Jack thought, while smiling and giving a slight nod of encouragement for the officer to continue his search elsewhere.

“First, I’d like to see some identification.”

“It’s inside my house,” replied Jack. “They’re getting away for Christ’s sake! Why aren’t you chasing them?”

The officer’s reply was interrupted by the sound of gunfire. By the third shot, the officer vanished from view in the direction the shots came from.

“Fuckin’ bloody hell,” said Sy, standing up from where he had been crouched behind a bush. “Hope those shots were some cop being plugged and not one of my guys!”

“Come on, we better keep moving,” said Jack. “I’ll call Princess and have her pick us up.”

“Fuck, I know I’ve said this before, but you gotta be one of the coolest dudes I’ve ever met. That fuckin’ cop don’t know how close he came. You shouldn’t have done that, though. Fuck of a chance being in the middle if the shootin’ started.”

“I probably saved your life … again,” replied Jack.

“Bullshit! I had the drop on him. He didn’t even know I was there.”

“Don’t be stupid,” replied Jack. “Think about it. He’s trained and wearing body armour. He’d see your muzzle flash … you’re crouched and would probably fall back on your ass with his first shot. His second shot would take out your nuts and intestines.” Jack paused to let the image sink in and said, “And for what? If you gave yourself up, what would you get? Probation? Hardly worth killing anyone over. Especially a cop.”

Sy eyed Jack carefully and said, “What you did was stupid, too. Putting yourself in the middle like that. You could have been shot. Makes me wonder who you were trying to save? Him or me?”

“I wanted to save all of us,” replied Jack. “Those punk kids you’ve got working for you wouldn’t stand up to the heat if a cop got killed. They’d rat us out in a jiffy. We’d both spend the rest of our lives in jail.”

“Their lawyers would protect them. They wouldn’t need to rat.”

They eventually made their way far enough out of the area and Jack called Laura to come and pick them up. Jack and Sy spoke little as they waited. It was clear that Sy was going over everything in his head. On occasion, he cast a suspicious glance in Jack’s direction.

Forty minutes later, Laura drove up and Sy quickly climbed into the back seat while Jack sat in the front with Laura.

“What happened?” asked Laura, as she started driving.

“I think we were set up,” said Sy. “The cops were waiting.” His voice was grave and Jack turned in his seat and saw Sy’s blank face staring at him, pondering over what had happened.

“They had to know that Weasel was one of the shooters last night,” said Jack. He spoke as if talking to Laura, but studied Sy’s face for a response. “They were obviously waiting to see if someone would retaliate,” he added.

Sy scowled and looked at Laura and snapped, “Find me a payphone! I don’t trust …” He paused to look at Jack before continuing, “this BlackBerry.”

Minutes later, they found a payphone and Sy ran over to it while Jack and Laura waited in the car. He glanced back at them as he dialed a number.

Sy’s first call was to Mongo, one of the other two bosses who was still on his side. Mongo owned a pizza outlet, but Sy placed the call to a cellphone number that Mongo had given him earlier that day. Soon Mongo’s gruff voice answered.

“This is Sy. This number still cool?”

“Yeah, one of my guys got it yesterday. What’s up? How did it go tonight?”

“My guys got busted outside Weasel’s house. I was lucky to escape. Cops got most of my good artillery. I heard shots, too. Don’t know what the fuck happened. Hope none of my guys got wasted.”

“Fuck, no. Tell me you’re joking.”

“Do I sound like I’m jokin’?”

“Fuck,” muttered Mongo. “How did it happen?”

“I made the mistake of trusting two people who moved into the apartment above mine. Jay and his bitch he calls Princess. They’re sitting in a car waiting for me to finish talking with you.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Take ’em both out tonight. One of them has to be a rat. Maybe both, who knows.”

“How ya want to do it?”

“They don’t realize I figured out it’s them. I’ll bring ’em over to your pizza joint. Meet us in the alley and we’ll go in your back office. Call Munch, too. The three of us gotta unite if we’re gonna win this war. May as well have Munch join us and get started.”

Laura sat in the car with Jack and watched as Sy jabbed the numbers into the phone. She glanced at Jack and said, “Connie will be expecting us to call soon. She’ll be wondering what Sy has to say and be worried.”

“She’ll have to wait. I’d like to know what Sy is thinking myself.”

“Something is going on,” she said, looking back at Sy. “He looks upset.”

“After what happened, I expected he would be upset,” replied Jack. “But is he on to us?”

“That’s the big question,” replied Laura.

“We’ll play it by ear, but keep your head up. He’s packing a pistol in an ankle holster. Once he’s back in the car, if it looks like he’s going for it, I’ll grab him, beat the hell out of him and toss him out. As long as he’s not arrested, our informant should be safe.”

“And if he pulls the gun out before he gets in?” asked Laura.

“Drive like hell. Here he comes.”

Sy got in the back seat again and Jack turned to face him, acting nonchalant as he draped one arm over the back of the seat. “So, what do you figure?” asked Jack. “Maybe come back to our place and we can figure out what happened.”

“Maybe after,” replied Sy. “There’s someone I want you to meet, first. He’s waiting.”

“Who?” asked Jack, hoping to hear the name Cocktail.

“A guy you’ve never met. I told him about you two. He has a plan of what to do next.”

Sy’s evasive manner set off a warning bell in Jack’s brain. Is he introducing us to Cocktail … or the Grim Reaper? If I say no, and he’s suspicious, it will make things worse. If I’m innocent, I need to act that way and should go along.

Jack glanced at Laura for her reaction. She stared straight back at him, without expression. Jack sighed. She was leaving the decision up to him. Jack turned to Sy and asked, “Where is this place?”

“A restaurant called Pizza 24-7, near the Guildford shopping centre in Surrey.” Sy looked at Laura and said, “Take the 152nd Street exit and cut across on 96th.”

Jack smiled to himself. Good, a restaurant. Public location should be safe. “Sounds good,” said Jack. “I could use a bite. How about you, Princess?”

She felt numb. Something isn’t right … but I trust Jack … She looked at Jack and nodded. Oh, man …

Chapter Thirty

Half an hour later, Laura parked in a back alley behind a steel door with a sign saying pizza 24-7. She tapped on the horn as directed and the steel door opened as the three of them got out.

Jack followed Laura toward the steel door and looked at the two men who were waiting for them at the door. He recognized Munch’s fat face from having seen him with Sy previously. The other man was large and muscular with short black hair and a goatee. There were some Asian features to his face and Jack recognized him from a previous mug shot as the one they called Mongo. So much for meeting Cocktail …

Jack glanced back at the vehicle. He knew things were looking bleak when he got out of the car and saw Sy hesitate and bend over in the car before climbing out. Sy maintained a safe distance as he followed Jack and Laura, while keeping one hand behind his back. Jack had little doubt about what Sy was holding.

Mongo sneered at Jack and Laura and said, “Follow me into my back office.”

Inside a short hallway, Jack tried to sound naive and spoke to Sy without looking back. “Who are these guys,” he asked. “Are they cool to talk in front of?”

“Oh, yeah,” chuckled Sy. “They’re cool. Cool enough to kill for me.”

They entered a small office containing a wooden desk marred by numerous cigarette burns. Behind the desk was a green plastic patio chair. Two more plastic chairs were in front.

“Jay and Princess, sit down,” said Sy, standing behind them after he closed the door.

“Thanks,” replied Jack, taking a seat beside Laura before he looked back at Sy and said, “So, the cops obviously knew Weasel was the shooter from last night and were set up on his place to see if someone would retaliate.”

Sy smiled and said, “That would make sense except I forgot to mention to you that Weasel only moved in with his girlfriend this afternoon. The cops wouldn’t have known that.”

“Oh, I see,” replied Jack. “Makes it obvious who the rats are.”

“Sure as fuck does!” snarled Sy.

“Good,” replied Jack. “After the shit you got me into tonight, I expect two things.”

“Really?” replied Sy looking puzzled. “And what is that?”

“First, you buy the pizza and second, you take care of those two rats!”

“What the fuck, Sy?” said Mongo. “I don’t understand. I thought you said —”

Sy put his hand up, gesturing for Mongo to be quiet, before looking inquisitively at Jack and saying, “Do you want to run that one past me again?”

“Sure. Pepperoni, mushrooms, black olives, and green pepper.”

“Not the fucking pizza. The part about taking care of two rats.”

“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?” asked Jack. “To decide how to take out Roach and Bagger?”

“Roach and Bagger!” replied Sy, looking incredulous.

“Yeah,” replied Jack, before gesturing with his hands and saying, “Duh … as if you didn’t figure it out. Well, I’m not stupid, either.” He turned to Mongo and Munch and said, “Last night we just happened to leave Roach and Bagger’s when we fuckin’ near get killed.”

Mongo looked at Sy and said, “Didn’t you tell me earlier that the cops were there, too? That someone saw some guy and later realized he might have been writing down licence plates?”

“What?” said Jack loudly, looking at Sy. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“Wasn’t sure if it was cops or a neighbour,” replied Sy, defensively.

“Figures,” said Jack. “Fuckin’ cops were probably laughing when we were getting our asses shot off.”

“I said it might not have been cops,” said Sy.

“Either way,” Jack said, continuing his conversation with Mongo and Munch, “Then it just happens that Roach and Bagger find the place for us to whack Weasel tonight and the cops just happen to be waiting for us. Guess I don’t need to tell you that it just happened that Roach and Bagger weren’t there with us!”

Munch looked at Sy and said, “Is that true? They weren’t with ya?”

“They’re sittin’ on a hostage,” said Sy. “Couldn’t let him go until we took out Weasel.”

Jack looked at Sy and said, “Guess I’m the dumbass for agreeing to go with you tonight. I tried to talk you out of it. I could have just happened to stay behind, too … you gave me that option, but I went with you.”

“Sy? What the fuck?” asked Mongo.

Before Sy could respond, Jack pointed a finger at him and said, “First I damn near die saving your ass last night and then I have to save it again tonight. You’re lucky we’re not the rats or you would be dead. Either that, or in jail. I think Roach and Bagger are tied in with your enemies and the cops. Being the leader, I’m sure you were the grand prize of who the cops wanted to catch. Lucky for you I talked you into checking things out first.”

Sy stared back. His face was blank as his mind grappled with what happened.

Jack shook his head in admonishment and said, “Yeah, I would say you owe me. As I said, two things, first you buy us some pizza, and then go take care of Roach and Bagger. I’m hungry and tired. Let’s eat.”

Sy hesitated before sticking the pistol in the back of his waistband. Jack knew that he and Laura were safe for the moment.

“You think they’re both rats?” asked Sy. “Roach and Bagger both?”

“Definitely,” replied Jack. “One couldn’t pull it off without the other guy knowing. I bet they’re talking to both the cops and at least one of the other gangs who are trying to take you out. Either that Balvinder guy you mentioned, or one of the other two, Fateh or Quang.”

“Or maybe Roach and Bagger are talkin’ to all three and the cops,” said Mongo.

“I’m gonna call those two fuckers and get them over here,” said Sy.

“Forget that,” said Jack. “There’s already too much heat. How do you know they won’t bring the cops trailing along with them? I’d do it another way.”

“How?” asked Sy.

Jack eyed Mongo and Munch suspiciously before standing up and looking at Sy. “Come on, let’s you and I talk in the hall. You know these guys, but I don’t.”

Laura forced a smile at Mongo and Munch as Jack and Sy stepped out into the hallway. Moments later they returned and Sy stood in one corner of the room and whispered to Mongo and Munch while Jack sat down beside Laura.

When Sy was finished, Mongo looked at Jack and asked, “What the fuck is in it for you? Why have you been hanging out with Sy all of a sudden?”

“I’m not interested in belonging to any gangs,” replied Jack. “I try to be independent. I do, however, have a lot of connections. I’m an entrepreneur. Sometimes there are things people want. Some times I can get them for them … cheap.”

“I can vouch for that,” said Sy, with a smile. “Anything from televisions to Russian vodka. I’ll tell you, Jay, after tonight, if there is anything you need … and I mean anything, you just ask.”

“You know,” said Jack, “there might be something you could help me with. Maybe in the next few days if —”

“Fuck the small talk,” said Mongo, looking at his watch. “Fuck the pizza, too. We got some loose ends to take care of before the sun comes up.”

Sy looked apologetically at Jack and said, “He’s right. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

Laura waited until she was alone in the car with Jack before saying, “They were going to do us.”

“I know, but with Sy behind us holding a gun in his hand, I figured it was better to play dumb. Speaking of which, I should call Connie. She’ll be freaking out.”

Connie answered her BlackBerry on the first ring. “Where are you?” she asked anxiously.

“We’re okay.”

“You get any heat? Scared the shit out of me when I heard uniform were after you.”

“Everything is fine,” replied Jack. “Sy doesn’t suspect us.”

“Good. Did Laura tell you we seized a lot of weapons tonight?”

“I saw them earlier when Sy handed them out. Tonight’s arrests were most of his top people. Seizing their guns is like taking the teeth out of one faction of The Brotherhood. At least for the moment.”

“Don’t know how long we can keep them in.”

“At least they’re identified. They might be hesitant to try it again.”

“Hope so.”

“Sy introduced us to Mongo and Munch.”

“Mongo and Munch? They’re bosses of two other factions in the group. What’s going on? Why would Sy meet them tonight after what happened?”

“I think they’re trying to figure out what went wrong. I passed it off as the police already knew Weasel was the shooter from last night and were waiting to see if anyone would retaliate.”

“Good thinking. They buy it?”

“Looks like it. They still think Laura and I are cool. Sy said if there was anything I need, I simply had to ask. I’ll meet with him tomorrow. I have an idea to draw Cocktail out.”

“How?”

“It’s time to tell him I’ve got a friend who wants to set up a meth lab. We’ll use Sammy.”

“Fantastic. These other guys are pissing me off, but it’s Cocktail I want to hang for murder.”

“And running meth and GHB labs. I’m certain there was another date rape last night at the party.”

“Makes me sick.”

“Believe me, Cocktail is going down.”

“Think your idea will work?”

“Hope so. After what we’ve been through with Sy in the last two days, I shouldn’t have any problem convincing him to help us with a lab. Cocktail might show up.”

“Maybe the narcs can concentrate on Roach and Bagger, too. They both sound like they are in the thick of things. It might give us another avenue to pursue if your lab idea doesn’t work.”

“Roach and Bagger are low-level punks,” replied Jack. “Watching them would be a waste of time. Let’s talk about it later. I’m going home.”

“Which one?”

“To Natasha. See you in about six hours.”

After Jack hung up, Laura looked at him and asked, “What was your other way?”

“Other way?” replied Jack. He was exhausted and knew he wasn’t thinking clearly.

“In regard to Roach and Bagger. When Sy was going to call them over and murder them, you said you would do it another way. Then you went in the hall. What did you tell him?”

Jack paused, wondering how best to articulate the matter.

“I have a feeling,” said Laura, “that Roach’s and Bagger’s futures hold more than, say, four months’ house arrest.”

Jack nodded and said, “As far as Roach and Bagger go, they don’t have a future. Not after their performance in the bedroom last night.”

“You don’t need to convince me. I saw Cassandra. She didn’t belong with that bunch. So what did you say to Sy?”

“I told him, hypothetically speaking, of course, if I were him I’d make it look accidental. Call Roach and Bagger and tell them to set Raven free and that you’re all going over to their place to have a drink and try to figure out what went wrong. At that time give Roach and Bagger a taste of their own medicine.”

“GHB?”

“Exactly.”

“So they’ll end up … dead drunk … but how?”

“After they’re unconscious, order a pizza for pickup and leave.” Jack paused, looking at Laura’s reaction. Her expression gave the impression of mild interest, as if she were studying a dinner menu. Only she is putting her trust in having me place the order.

Laura paused and thought about what Jack said. “Sounds like a gas,” she replied.

“It will appear they started the car in their garage, but passed out before opening the door. Accidental carbon monoxide poisioning.” Jack gave a grim smile and added, “You figured it out. Means you’re starting to think like I do. Doesn’t it scare you?”

“A little,” she admitted.

“What I suggested … no, not suggested, what I said to Sy was all hypothetical, of course. Simply musing about different ways to dispose of people. I don’t believe for a minute that he would actually do it.”

“Of course not … for the record. Act surprised, show concern —”

“Deny, deny, deny,” said Jack, finishing her sentence.

Chapter Thirty-One

It was five o’clock in the morning before Jack and Laura finished their paperwork at the office and an hour later before they each made it home to their own beds. About the time Jack was climbing into bed, Cocktail was slurping coffee out of a Styrofoam cup as he sat in a car in Kitsilano Beach Park overlooking English Bay in the heart of Vancouver.

Cocktail was waiting to meet Balvinder, one of the prominent leaders in The Brotherhood. He was told to gain Balvinder’s trust and bait the trap. He knew his orders came from the upper echelon of Satans Wrath. Appraise who is stronger and set up the losers to die.

Prospective members of Satans Wrath had arranged the meeting to ensure security from both the police and the warring factions of The Brotherhood. One prospect sat nearby on a park bench. He was a giant of a man with a short, cropped beard that did little to hide the multiple scars on his face. Cocktail knew he went by the nickname of “Hamburger” and it wasn’t because of his ugly face. Hamburger liked to fight. His nickname came from what other people’s faces looked like when he was done with them. Other prospects also roamed the area on foot and in vehicles.

Cocktail didn’t have to wait long. One of the prospects pulled up and dropped off Balvinder, who ambled over and got in beside Cocktail.

“Well, Balv, how’s it going?” asked Cocktail. “I understand some of your boys tried to take out Sy a couple of nights ago?”

“Yeah, they should have got him. Sy was so drunk he fell over in the house before he left the party. Came with some guy by the name of Jay and a broad. Jay was driving and was obviously sober. My guys said that when the shooting started he drove like a professional demolition derby driver. Sy was lucky. His time will come.”

“I need to be kept informed.”

“Why?”

“Think of who brought you to meet me. It’s them who asked.”

Balvinder glanced over at the biker who had brought him and saw Hamburger scowling at him from the park bench. “Mother of god,” breathed Balvinder under his breath.

“It’s not a good idea to make these guys angry,” continued Cocktail. “You know we do business with Sy’s, Mongo’s, and Munch’s guys too. What you’re doing is attracting police attention. If it keeps up, Satans Wrath will cut business with you guys because it could reflect police attention on them.”

“What are you saying? Quit the war? Ain’t gonna happen. It’s already started and there are too many of Sy’s people who keep moving into areas they don’t belong. That’s why we picked him first.”

“Conflicts happen. That’s life and the bikers know that, but don’t expect much business from my end if you guys keep dragging this out.”

“So what are you saying?” asked Balvinder.

“I work for them,” said Cocktail, while giving a sweep of his hand in Hamburger’s direction. “What I’m saying is if we want the money to keep rolling in, you better end it pretty quick, one way or the other. I’m going to be telling Sy the same thing. He’ll pass on what I tell him to Munch and Mongo. I want you to pass this on to Fateh, Quang, and Rashard.”

“So which is it? Does Satans Wrath want us to make peace or have an all-out war and get it over with?”

“Let’s say they won’t be doing business with people they don’t respect. If they think you are weak, you will soon be cut out of the action.”

“My gang is not fucking weak.”

“I know. Yours isn’t. That is why I’m talking to you. Trust me, my friend. I shouldn’t say this, because Satans Wrath want me to treat everyone equal, but out of all the others, you’re the one I respect the most.”

“Glad to hear that.”

“But I need to know what is going on. If you’re doing something to help bring things to an end, then it would help if I could explain that to the bikers. Even with Fateh and Quang who are your allies today, things change in time.”

“Tell me about it. We formed The Brotherhood in the first place so we could get along. That didn’t last long.”

“If there is an all-out war, there will still be survivors. Satans Wrath will want the survivors to sit down and split up what turf belongs to whom. After that, if someone starts raising shit and brings police attention on everyone, they will have more than the police to deal with.” Cocktail, paused, pointing a finger at Hamburger and adding, “You want to take guys like him on?”

“No … and what you’re saying makes sense. But how do you decide who gets what turf?”

“Eventually there will be a meeting and I’ll be the referee. Besides, what is the worst that could happen? If you all disagree, you end up no different. But it could work. In the meantime, if you have something happening that we need to talk about, go through the regular channels and the bikers will arrange for us to meet. Everything is to come my way. Satans Wrath is looking to do business with someone who is solid and strong. Let’s make sure that person is you and the people who are on your side.”

“I’m all for that.”

“The sooner it is over with, the sooner we can all get back to making money. Real money. Especially if some of the … uh, less respected gangs, are not around to demand pieces of the pie.”

“I understand,” said Balvinder. His white teeth flashed a smile against his dark skin and he said, “I’ll tell Fateh and Quang. They might listen to me. As far as Rashard goes, maybe you should talk to him.”

“I thought you were winning Rashard over to your side?”

“Not yet. That fuckin’ Jamaican is still not claimin’ allegiance with anyone. He’s gonna have to decide pretty quick, but right now, I don’t trust him.”

“I’ll talk with him. As far as what happened two nights ago, you know there will be retaliation. Things could get hot.”

Balvinder’s teeth flashed again as he gave a short burst of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

“They already tried,” replied Balvinder. “It’s not on the news yet. Weasel was one of my guys who tried to take Sy out two nights ago. Sy recognized him and somehow found out where he was staying. A couple of hours ago Sy and a bunch of his guys snuck over to try and shoot him. Well guess what?”

“What?” asked Cocktail.

Balvinder laughed again and said, “The fuckin’ pigs were on to them. Busted their asses! From what I hear, they damn near got Sy, too. He barely escaped and lost most of his heavy-duty guns and a lot of his top guys.”

“How do you know if it’s not on the news? Did Weasel see it happen?”

“Weasel never even got out of bed. We got someone on the inside. Sy’s not even home yet, but he called what guys he has left and is whimpering like a fuckin’ baby. The pigs did a real number on his outfit. I should send them a thank-you card. Now it’s just Mongo and Munch we gotta take care of. In fact, with what happened, I bet the fuckin’ Jamaican will join up with us.”

“Interesting,” mused Cocktail.

Sy was on his way home after leaving Roach and Bagger’s house when he got a message on his BlackBerry. He recognized the coded message and sighed as he changed direction and drove off to meet his contact from Satans Wrath.

An hour later, Sy entered an office at Wet Willy’s Car Wash while his car was slowly dragged through the wash cycle inside the building. Cocktail was the only other person in the office and sat behind a desk as Sy took a seat in front of him.

“How’s it going?” asked Cocktail. “Heard someone took a shot at you a couple nights ago?”

“Yeah, I figured you would have heard,” mumbled Sy. “Fuckin’ lucky I happened to have a friend with me who knows how to drive.”

“Oh? Who is that?”

“A guy by the name of Jay. He lives in the apartment above mine.”

“You never mentioned him before.”

“He’s Rodine’s cousin and moved here recently from back east. He’s a smart fucker and knows the game real well.”

“Our game?”

“Naw, he’s not interested in dope. Hot property is his thing.”

“What? Boosting items from stores?”

“No, not what you’re thinking. Jay is rich, has class, and is well-connected. Docks … railway … trucking lines. This guy ain’t small-time. Has got a real looker for a lady. Calls her Princess. Jay is rich. I’m thinking of asking him to partner up with me, but I don’t know if he will. He likes to be independent.”

“I have to tell you, Satans Wrath are really getting pissed off with all this chickenshit drive-by shooting crap.”

“It doesn’t seem chickenshit when you’re the one being shot at.”

Cocktail chuckled and said, “No, I guess not. The point is, it is attracting police attention and affecting the profit margin. Satans Wrath want to do business with someone they respect. Someone who knows how to make money. I’ve been hinting that you’re the guy. With all our action, your mattress must be stuffed.”

“I’m doin’ all right.”

“All right?”

Sy couldn’t resist the urge to brag. “Close to a million hidden away.” Sy saw that Cocktail was impressed. So I lied a little. What the fuck, I’m halfway there.

“Got it in a safe spot I trust,” said Cocktail.

“For sure. Some place where the cops won’t find it.”

“Good. Your new friend sounds interesting. Are you serious about asking him to partner up with you?”

“Things haven’t been going well, especially after tonight.”

“So I heard.”

Sy’s face darkened as he glanced out the office door at Hamburger standing in the hallway. “Yeah, I figured you had. Bad news travels fast.”

“That it does. Sorry for how it turned out tonight. I’m also really glad they missed you the other night.”

“Yeah?”

“Keep that to yourself. I’m supposed to be impartial. Satans Wrath want the war to end. In the next couple of days they’re planning to orchestrate a truce. It will be decided then who gets what territory.”

“So I’ll get to sit down with the honchos from Satans Wrath?” asked Sy.

“Not directly,” replied Cocktail. “They still look at you guys as amateurs. Hopefully if things go as planned, that will soon change. They’re looking to see who the smart leaders are and who is best suited to be making money. Certain guys might get selected to run additional enterprises and make more money. For now, I’m to treat everyone equal because they want me to referee the meeting.”

“What about security?”

“The bikers will look after it. I might be the referee, but everyone knows who I’ll be representing. If anyone does something stupid, they’re dead.”

“Gotcha.”

“I really shouldn’t say this, so keep it to yourself. Out of all the others, you’re the one I respect the most. I want you to do well at the meeting.”

Sy’s face brightened. “Thanks. I really appreciate that.”

“It would be a good idea if you kept me informed of what you’re up to. Go through the bikers to arrange a meet, if need be, but I’m the point man. If you’re making any moves it will help if I know so I can convince the bikers that you’re not some dunderhead flailing around.”

Sy nodded and said, “Thanks, Cocktail. I could use all the friends I could get. A good reason I should take on someone smart like Jay. He is one cool dude. Knows how to get rid of people to make it look like an accident. It would be good if he joined up with me.”

“Bet your guys who got busted last night won’t be in jail long.”

“I talked with Basil Westmount. He expects he’ll get them out this afternoon. Problem is, they’ll be heat bags with the cops at a time when I need ’em most. That’s if none of them squealed.”

“Think any of them would?”

“Fuckin’ Roach and Bagger did. Don’t know what the cops had on them. As far as last night goes, well, I know Brewski would never turn.”

“What? Roach and —”

“Yeah, those two. Don’t worry about it. They’ve already been taken care of.”

Cocktail waited until Sy left before speaking to Hamburger.

“Pass it on to your boss that I know who the losing side is going to be. The police arrested a bunch of Sy’s guys last night and wiped out his top people. The ones who are left are pointing fingers at each other. They took out two of their own a couple of hours ago.”

“I’ll pass it on,” replied Hamburger.

“I realize that the, uh, selected individuals for the final … shall we say, execution of this plan is up to you guys, but I think the choice is obvious. With that in mind, I gave Sy the bullshit line about getting everyone together for a truce talk.”

“Think he went for it?”

“Like a hungry gull after a school bag-lunch.”

“I’m sure we’ll be in touch soon, but in the mean time, carry on business as usual.”

“One other thing. Sy has a new friend he is thinking of partnering up with. Don’t know anything about the guy or who might be backing him. He lives in the apartment above Sy with his girlfriend. They go by the names of Jay and Princess. Might be a good idea for you guys to check them out.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Balvinder’s meeting with Fateh that afternoon did not go as smoothly as he had hoped.

“Fuck runnin’ stuff past Cocktail,” said Fateh vehemently. “How the fuck do you know he won’t pass it on to the other side?”

“He won’t,” replied Balvinder. “If he was doin’ that, he could have had me killed this morning. Satans Wrath don’t give a shit about which side wins as long as they’re not caught in the middle. I spoke with Quang about an hour ago. He thinks the three of us should come up with a game plan.”

“I don’t need fuckin’ Quang’s help to kill anyone.”

“It is better if we coordinate things under a united front. If we don’t resolve it quick, Cocktail says the fuckin’ gravy train we’ve all been riding is going to come to a halt.”

“Satans Wrath would cut off the chemicals?” asked Fateh.

Balvinder nodded.

“That would cost them money, too.”

Balvinder shook his head and said, “Man, the bikers got lots of other action. They deal coke by the ton and got labs right across the country. They can afford to put our labs on hold, but we can’t. Besides, where else could we get chemicals that cheap? Even if they didn’t kill us, their prices would put us out of business. If our people quit making money … pretty soon they won’t be our people.”

Fateh thought about it for a moment and replied, “Okay, when it comes to keepin’ our pipeline for chemicals coming, I agree. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to be running to them if I decide to pop somebody. When there is opportunity, you grab it. If you had told me where Sy was partying the other night, he would already be dead.”

“My guys tried.”

Fateh smiled and said, “Yeah, I heard. With little girlie guns. Like I said, you should have called me. I’d have introduced Sy to Big Bertha.”

Balvinder was surprised. “It came through? You got it?”

“Yup. Had it smuggled across the border last week. Fifty-calibre. Fuckin’ bullets bigger than your thumb. Capable of bringing down an airplane. Got it mounted in the back of a van. All we gotta do is pull up alongside, slide open the side door and blow anything we want into fuckin’ smithereens. There wouldn’t be enough scrap metal left of a vehicle to make a paperweight.”

“Un-fuckin’ believeable! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Just did. You still got someone close to Sy?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t want to risk Big Bertha hanging around Sy’s apartment. The heat is obviously on him and I’m not taking a chance of the cops grabbing it. Next time you pinpoint when he’ll be someplace else, give me a call.”

“There’s Mongo and Munch to consider, as well.”

“We can deal with them after … that’s if there is any fight left in them. It was Sy’s people who invaded our turf. That is who should get the message first on not to fuck with us. The bikers want this war over? Fine! Consider it fuckin’ over when Big Bertha opens up.”

Late that afternoon, Jack returned to Sy’s apartment and the two men did their usual walk down the hall.

Sy looked at Jack and said, “Roach and Bagger … done.”

Jack ignored the comment and said, “That was a hell of a night last night. We were lucky to escape. Sorry you lost so many of your guys.”

“You tried to warn me. I should have listened. Everyone from the van, including Brewski, got let out a few minutes ago. The guns were stashed in a duffle bag. Our lawyer says it will be hard for the cops to prove who they belong to. The two YDUs in the Mustang are still being held.”

Jack didn’t respond until they had walked farther. “Something else on your mind?” he asked.

Sy coughed and said, “I know things don’t exactly look like they’re going well for me, but I think it is going to pick up.”

“That’s good.”

“Remember I once told you I knew a guy by the name of Cocktail?”

“Yes,” said Jack. He felt his chest tighten and realized he was holding his breath.

“I met with him this morning.”

“You’re a busy guy. Thought you’d be a little tired after last night.”

“Sometimes I don’t get a choice. Certain people call and ya gotta go.”

“Certain people like Cocktail?”

“Certain people like Satans Wrath. They acted as my chauffeurs. You know about them, eh?”

“Who doesn’t?” replied Jack. “Is Cocktail one of them?”

“No, but he works for them. Cocktail helps me. He supplies the chemicals and the training for the labs we run. I’ve been making a lot of money. Still am.”

“You shouldn’t be telling me this. If Cocktail gets popped, you’ll be giving me the hairy eyeball.”

“Hear me out. I’m not blabbin’ without reason. It’s like you said before, I need to gather as many allies as I can. Cocktail says the bikers are going to force us to accept a truce and decide what turf belongs to who.”

“Sounds smart. What’s that got to do with Cocktail?”

“He is going to represent the bikers at the meeting. Act as a referee. Guess the bikers don’t respect us enough yet for a face to face.”

No shit …“When is this meeting?”

“In the next couple of days. It will be better for me if I have as many people on my side of the bargaining table as possible. With your connections and everything … I would be willing to cut you in on the action. I know dope isn’t your thing, but we could still work something out. Even if you were to act as a silent partner or something, with your connections maybe I could expand. Claim more territory to make me look good at the meeting. We could make a shitload of money.”

“I should meet Cocktail.”

“He’s more into the lab side of things. Not your bag.”

“Remember earlier when I said there was something you could help me with? When we were at Pizza 24-7?”

“Yeah, but I was busy going out to take care of Roach and Bagger. What do ya need?”

“I’ve got a friend who also moved here from back east. He’s into the dope scene. The guy is meticulous and good at calculation. With a little training, he would be ideal to run a lab.”

“Fuck, that fits right in with what I am asking you. Like I said, you obviously know people.”

“My friend’s name is Sammy. I spoke to him about it and he was thinking we could pipe the product back east. That way it wouldn’t step on any toes out here.”

“That’s even better yet.” Sy paused as he thought about it, smiled and said, “Hell, yeah, I’ll be glad to help. Provide the chemicals, training … how to set the lab up proper. Even find him a place to do it.”

“Sounds great. I’ll tell Sammy. How much money will he need to get started?”

“Fuck, don’t worry about that. We’ll front him what he needs to get started. Once he’s cooking he’ll be workin’ on commission. As long as he maintains his deadlines and makes it how he is supposed to, everything will be fine.”

“Sounds perfect. I’m sure he’ll be pleased. When could he get started?”

“Give me a day or two to arrange things. Too bad you hadn’t said something earlier. I could have mentioned it to Cocktail this morning.”

That evening, Jack and Laura met with Connie and Sammy and debriefed them on Jack’s conversation with Sy.

“God, we are going to get this guy,” said Connie, once more fondling the crucifix on her neck.

“You talking to us, or Him?” said Jack with a grin.

“You and Him,” replied Connie.

“I’ve hedged our bet,” said Jack, becoming serious again. “We have at least two chances. If he doesn’t show up to teach Sammy how to run the lab, then I will try to wangle a meeting with him through Sy at the truce conference.”

“So all these drive-by shootings should come to a halt,” said Connie.

“The truce is supposed to take place within a few days,” said Jack. “When it does, we can all breathe easier.”

“Maybe I’ll get a weekend off some day,” said Connie, happily. Her gaze drifted back to Jack and she said, “How the heck do you pretend to run a lab?”

“I know a guy who owns an old farmhouse on an acreage in Langley,” offered Sammy. “He used to raise chickens, but is retired now and travelling. The chicken coops are gone, but the house is usable. Months ago he rented it to some guys who started a grow-op. He clued in as to what they were doing and reported it. I’m sure I could convince him to let us use it.”

“Perfect,” replied Jack. “We can’t do any arrests involving the lab because it would lead back to our informant. Once we identify Cocktail, Laura and I will find an excuse to disappear.”

“We can’t be trafficking in meth!” said Connie.

Jack laughed and said, “Don’t worry, we won’t. In theory, it should take Sammy a week to get up and running before they expect product. By then, the truce meeting should have taken place.”

“And if it doesn’t or we still need more time to ID Cocktail, what then?” asked Connie.

“It will be easy to stall,” replied Jack. “Sammy could say he has to get out because the owner is on a round-the-world trip, but is coming back unexpectedly. Or we could arrange a fake bust on the lab. Have it done when Sammy isn’t there. It would be an excuse for him to flee.”

“This could work,” said Connie. “It might draw Cocktail out so we can identify him. Even if he doesn’t appear, if we follow Sy, he might lead us to him.”

“I don’t recommend you do that,” said Jack. “Cocktail is tied in with Satans Wrath. They are too adept at switching vehicles and spotting surveillance. If they spot a tail, we may never get another chance.”

“Plus,” said Laura, “Sy will be extremely kinky after being shot at the other night, not to mention his own guys being busted. They are all going to be looking over their shoulders. At least until a truce is finalized and who knows how long that will take.”

“Speaking of that, what about the risk that you might get caught in a crossfire again?” asked Connie.

“We’ll be careful,” said Jack. “When Sy says it is time to get the chemicals, I’ll rent a van that nobody will have seen before. When we leave the apartment, I’ll have Sy duck down so he won’t be seen by any of the opposition if they are watching.”

“Between the bikers, Cocktail, and the turf war, everyone is going to be paranoid as hell,” noted Sammy. “First time dealing with them, they’re going to be worrying about you doing a rip-off, as well.”

“For sure,” replied Jack. He looked at Laura and said, “Wear something tight and skimpy so they know you’re not packing a gun. The bikers will likely ensure we’re not being followed. You guys sit back and wait until we call you. I’m confident Sy trusts us, but I won’t be armed, either, in case we’re searched.”

“Sounds bloody dangerous,” said Connie. “I don’t like the idea of you not having backup. You know what policy says in that regard.”

“We’ll have you for backup,” said Jack. “Way back … waiting in Langley close to Sammy.”

“A lot of good that will do,” grumbled Connie.

“I don’t want anything to happen that could scare Cocktail away. Even if he doesn’t show up at the lab, there is still the backup plan over the truce meeting. I’m sure I can convince Sy to let me tag along for that.”

“Which is even more dangerous,” said Connie. “Going to a meeting with a bunch of guys who are at war with each other.”

“They may be at war with each other, but I think they will all respect the wishes of Satans Wrath,” said Jack. “Besides, they say there will be security to make sure nobody is armed.”

“If Cocktail shows up at Sammy’s lab, the meeting may not matter,” said Laura.

“One day at a time,” replied Jack.

“Maybe we should put a bug in the van you rent,” suggested Connie.

“Not a chance,” replied Jack. “Satans Wrath is liable to do a sweep. If they find a bug, we’re all dead. It’s bad enough having our apartment bugged, I’m not going to risk the van.”

“Speaking of bugs,” said Laura, “how is it going with the wiretaps?”

“Good,” replied Sammy. “I spoke with OCTF. All new names have been added to their Part VI. The judge signed it this morning so if anyone is dumb enough to use their phones, we should hear.”

“Tell them to keep their ears open,” said Jack. “If they hear of anyone that might be moving chemicals, I’d like to know about it.”

“I spoke to them,” replied Sammy. “I also didn’t want them busting us by mistake.”

“The two of you will be entirely on your own,” said Connie, looking back and forth at Jack and Laura.

“We know.”

Everyone sat for a moment in an uncomfortable silence. Eventually they all silently nodded in agreement.

Sammy placed a call and discovered that he could use the farm house in Langley any time he wanted.

“We’re set,” said Sammy. He looked at Connie’s worried face and lightheartedly said, “Hey, cheer up kid! What could possibly go wrong?”

Jack was driving to Sy’s apartment when his BlackBerry rang again. It was Gabriel Parsons.

“Hope I didn’t catch you in the middle of anything?” asked Gabriel.

“I’m not busy,” replied Jack. “What can I help you with? Is it Faith?”

“Faith is doing okay. Too sick to do much, but at least she’s home now. No, the reason I called is because of Noah. I would like your opinion on something.”

“My opinions are free. What is it?”

“Lately he’s been wanting to dress all in black like he is a vampire or something pagan. I simply won’t allow it. Now he’s bugging me to allow him to get a ring put through his eyebrow. It’s like he’s trying to make himself ugly. I know some of the kids at his school pierce their faces with jewellery, but Noah is only thirteen. What do you think?”

“He’s been through a lot for such a young guy. I realize he is still a child, but he is also reaching the age where he wants to show his independence. You need to talk to him. Maybe you could compromise a little. Perhaps allow him to wear certain clothing, but hold off on the face jewellery.”

“I try to be a good mother,” replied Gabriel, as her voice cracked.

“You’re a great mom. I admire you. Considering what has happened in your life … the stress you must be under … I’ve seen people fold under a lot less.”

“Well … thank you. I do find comfort in God. I pray that the man who killed Father Brown will turn to God and beg forgiveness.”

Jack thought about her comment after he hung up. Glad she didn’t ask for my opinion on that …

Jack met with Sy and told him that Sammy had a good spot already rented for a lab.

“Where at?” asked Sy.

“Somewhere out in Langley. An old house. It used to be a chicken farm. The owner is retired and is travelling around the world. Sammy is anxious to get started.”

“That’s great. Finding the right place is the hardest part. Chicken farm, eh? Cocktail will like that.”

Oh, I thought he would have preferred a daycare … “How soon before we can get started?” asked Jack.

“I gotta clear it with the bikers first. You staying upstairs tonight?”

“I’m not sure. Princess is afraid someone will come looking for you and start shooting up the place.”

“They didn’t get all my guys. I’ve got people guarding the place twenty-four-seven. I hate using phones. Why don’t you at least stay and I’ll come up and see you in a couple of hours. I might know somethin’ by then.”

An hour after Sy met with Jack, he took another stroll down the apartment hallway with two prospects from Satans Wrath, Chugger and Hamburger. Sy quickly told them about his new friends, Jay and Princess.

Hamburger did not tell Sy that Cocktail had given him the names earlier that morning.

“Jay is really connected,” said Sy. “He could make us a lot of money if I can convince him to partner up with me. He wants to set up a lab for a buddy of his. Good chance to impress him.”

“Yeah?” replied Hamburger. “You trust them both?”

“Fuckin’ A. They’re rock solid. Stake my life on it.”

“You will be,” said Chugger.

“Not a problem,” replied Sy. “They’re ready to go. Got an old farmhouse already.”

“We’ll front you what you need to get started,” said Hamburger. “First payment is seven days after delivery. If anything goes wrong …”

“I know.”

“How long have you known them?”

“Not long, but we’ve already done a lot of shit together. They came recommended to me by Rodine. They’re cousins. He’s known them all his life.”

“Tell ’em we’ll do it tomorrow. Take them both on a little trip while we check them out. If they’re not okay, you won’t be bringing them back.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Later that night, Sy met with Jack and told him that things were set for the following morning. Jack left the apartment complex immediately and he and Laura had another brief meeting with Connie and Sammy.

“Sounds like everything is a go,” said Connie.

“My team will supply some of the cover out at the farm,” said Sammy.

“Make sure it is only your team that does,” said Jack.

“Still no word on the dirty narc?” asked Connie.

Sammy shook his head.

“Nothing unusual has come over the monitors from our UC apartment,” said Laura.

“Not yet,” said Jack. “It would really surprise me if Satans Wrath doesn’t check us out before tomorrow. Maybe tonight we will get lucky. I mentioned to Sy that I would be staying in our other apartment tonight. I know he has a pass key.”

The following morning, Jack and Laura rented a van and drove to Sy’s apartment complex and parked in the underground lot. They went to Sy’s apartment and saw a note on the door telling them he was next door at Brewski’s. Moments later they were let inside by Lorraine and saw Sy and Brewski slurping coffee at the kitchen table. The apartment was covered with empty beer and liquor bottles.

“Good to see that you got out,” said Jack, giving Brewski a friendly pat on his back. “Looks like we missed a good party.”

“You did,” said Sy. “I went back to get you last night, but you were already gone.”

“I got sprung yesterday afternoon,” said Brewski. “Gotta appear in court next week to enter a plea. Should be able to drag it out for a couple of years. My lawyer says the cops aren’t saying why they searched us. Could be because of a wiretap or somethin’. He thinks we have a good chance of getting it tossed under a charter argument.”

“That’s great,” replied Jack.

“Same goes for the two in the Mustang,” said Sy. “It hadn’t been reported stolen yet so the cops had no legal reason to search it.”

“Excellent,” replied Jack.

“So, I hear you’re introducing Sy to someone to go into business with us,” said Brewski.

Jack nodded and said, “A buddy of mine by the name of Sammy.”

“And what business would Sammy be in?” smirked Lorraine.

“It’s called none of your business,” replied Jack.

Lorraine mouthed the words “fuck you” and smirked again.

“Speaking of which,” said Sy, “You both ready to go?”

“Both of us?” replied Jack. “I was thinking we didn’t need Princess.”

“Hey, I don’t want to be stuck sitting in the apartment by myself,” protested Laura.

“Not really any choice,” said Sy. “You have to come. My friends said they wanted to meet the both of you. You get a van to use?”

“Got one from Budget. It’s in the underground lot. You better duck down when we leave.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I’m doing a lot of ducking these days. Give me a minute to go back to my place and use the can. I’ll meet you both downstairs.”

When Jack and Laura left Brewski’s to go to the van, Laura grabbed Jack by the sleeve and said, “You try to cut me out of the action again and I’ll kick you in the nuts.”

“It just occurred to me, why should we risk the both of us if there’s no need?”

“That’s bull. You thought of it before and waited until we were in front of Sy, hoping he would agree with you.”

Jack frowned and said, “Okay, you’re right, but think about it. Why risk your life if we don’t need to?”

“Because I’m your partner. That’s why.”

Balvinder received his second call that morning and passed it on to Fateh. After that he sent the second text that morning to his contact with Satans Wrath, asking to meet. He received a text message back saying: “Like before. I’m busy. Meet this afternoon.”

Balvinder shrugged. He had done what was asked. Besides, by this afternoon the war might be over …

There was a reason why the prospects couldn’t meet Balvinder right away. They were waiting in Sy’s apartment to confirm that Jack and Laura had left with Sy, before using the pass key they had been given.

The prospects weren’t the only ones waiting. In a wooded area close to the United States border, Fateh bounced along in the back of a van with one arm draped over Big Bertha. A gang member by the name of Hadad drove, while three other gang members sat with him in the back of the van.

Fateh looked out the window as the van approached an uprooted tree beside the road. Rutted wheel tracks led past the fallen tree into the woods. “This is it,” he said. “Hadad and I checked it out early this morning. There is only one way in and out.” He looked at Hadad and said, “Drive past the entrance and find a place where we can watch. They’re in a Budget van. Once they arrive, give ’em a minute to get in there and park. Then we introduce them to Big Bertha.”

Jack and Laura gave Sy a curious look when he arrived and climbed in the rented van. He was carrying a box made of thin plywood that he set in the back of the van.

“What’s that?” asked Jack, hearing a scratching noise come from the box.

“That my friend, is Harry the Hamster.”

“You’ve got a hamster in there? What on earth for?” asked Laura.

“It’s a safety thing,” replied Sy. “Something my friend Cocktail came up with for the lab.”

“The old canary in the coal mine?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, something like that,” replied Sy, laying down on the seat behind Jack and Laura as Jack drove toward the exit.

Shortly after Jack pulled out from the underground parking lot, Sy sat up and directed Jack to drive to a rural area near the United States border, which was about a thirty-minute drive from their apartment.

“Why down there?” asked Jack.

“They didn’t want to do the deal around my apartment. There’s a place in the bush we are to go to. I’ve never been there, but I drew a map,” said Sy, taking a piece of paper out of his coat pocket. “They always pick different places,” he continued. “They know what they’re doing. Don’t worry, there won’t be anyone around to bother us.”

Part way to the destination, Jack realized that a car was following them and told Sy.

Sy glanced back and said, “Yeah, I recognize Croaker, the guy driving. The bikers are pretty cautious. They do that sometimes. I told them what you were driving. Last night they gave me the route we’re taking. They put guys out along the way to make sure we’re not being followed.”

Minutes later, Croaker passed them, slowed in front and turned off.

“Just got the okay,” said Sy. “If he had turned on his four-ways, it would have meant we were being followed and to abort.”

“Good,” said Laura. She swallowed and added, “I feel safer already knowing how careful these guys are.”

“Is your friend Cocktail going to be there?” asked Jack, glancing in the rearview mirror at Sy’s face.

“Naw, Cocktail turned the chemicals over to them. He won’t be coming.”

Jack glanced at Laura who also tried to hide her disappointment by turning to look out the passenger window.

“I thought Cocktail was going to help train Sammy,” said Jack. “We were supposed to meet him.”

Sy shrugged and said, “He’s trained me. Don’t worry, I can set it up. Also got the recipes with me,” he added, gesturing to his BlackBerry.

Back in the RCMP Headquarters building in Vancouver, a monitor saw an indicator light go on in Jack and Laura’s undercover apartment and turned up the volume.

“Hey, we’ve got some action,” she said to her colleague. “Sounds like several men are searching the place.” A man’s voice over the recorder soon announced who they were.

“Hey Taco! Look what I found,” yelled the voice. “Got a broad’s driver’s licence.”

The monitor checked her list of names. Taco was the nickname of a Satans Wrath prospect.

“What ya doin’?” asked Taco.

“I almost missed it,” said the voice. “It was taped to the bottom of the desk drawer and fell off when I opened it. Look, there’s more. We got some of the guy’s ID too.”

“Fuckin’ A,” replied Taco’s voice. “Take a look and see who Jay and Princess really are. Get on your BlackBerry to Pussy Paul right fuckin’ now.”

Both monitors in the RCMP building smiled.

“Snoopy bunch, these bikers,” said one.

“Yeah, we should talk.”

Jack drove as instructed and turned down a rutted lane past a fallen tree leading into a wooded area. Moments later they reached a small clearing where a scattering of empty beer bottles and the blackened remains of a fire pit told him the location was no doubt a favourite hangout for young people looking to party. He parked the van and shut off the engine.

Another van immediately appeared from behind them and Jack realized it had been parked in a location hidden from view on the far side of the clearing.

“That was quick,” said Jack.”

Sy peered out the window and said, “Yeah, that’s Hamburger who is driving. He’s big enough to lift a full barrel by himself. That’s Chugger beside him. He’s no wuss, either.”

Hamburger backed his van up and parked so the rear doors of both vans were facing each other.

“You two wait while I go chat with them first,” said Sy.

Jack and Laura watched as Sy stepped out of the van and met with Hamburger and two other bikers who got out to meet him. Jack opened the door and looked at the group and Sy motioned for him to step out of the van.

Before Jack could move, the roar of an engine caught everyone’s attention as a third van bounced into the clearing and came to a broadside stop.

“What’s going on?” asked Laura nervously.

“Don’t know,” replied Jack. “Maybe more bikers for security.”

“Hope so, or — oh, man!”

Jack looked in disbelief as the side door of the newcomer’s van slid open. Inside they saw a 50-calibre machine gun mounted on a tripod. Fateh looked like a raging fanatic as he swung the muzzle around in their direction.

Chapter Thirty-Four

One of the monitors in the RCMP building started to panic. She had replayed two calls that had come in earlier that morning. The calls were related to the investigation by the Organized Crime Task Force on gangs, but were low priority because the intercept was on the cellphone of a low-level gang member who worked for Balvinder.

The first call was from a young woman who said, “Your phone cool?”

“Yeah, it’s in my mother’s name. What’s up?”

“Sy will be leaving his apartment tomorrow morning with a guy named Jay and his fuckin’ bitch. They’re supposed to go meet some friend of Jay’s to do something. Probably sell him dope. If you meet me, I copied a rough fuckin’ map of where they’re going.”

“Who is this fuckin’ Jay?” asked the man.

“The same guy who drove that night when I called you from the party. I don’t like his attitude. He wanted to fuck me, but I told him he was so old I’d have to lip-start him. Freaked him right out,” she laughed. “I was hoping you would get him that night, too. Today is your chance. Put one right up his ass for me and do his bitch, too.”

The second call was between the same people and the young woman said, “They’re heading out in a couple of minutes. Jay’s got a Budget van. Him, his bitch, and Sy will be inside. Don’t fuck up this time.”

“Don’t worry, with Big Bertha on the scene, a fuckin’ cockroach wouldn’t survive.”

“Who’s Big Bertha?”

“A big fuckin’ boy’s toy. These guys will be maggot food by lunchtime.”

The monitor fought back the tears as she reached for the phone. Investigators from OCTF had cautioned her to listen carefully for any mention of Big Bertha. Intelligence reports indicated it was the nickname of a 50-calibre machine gun that the gang was attempting to get. She also knew Jay’s real identity.

Connie was sitting with Sammy in a pickup truck parked down the road from the rented farm house going over last-minute details when she received a call from the monitor, telling her about Big Bertha and the plan to murder Jack, Laura, and Sy.

“That fucking whore! Who is she?” demanded Connie.

“We don’t know,” replied the monitor. “It was an incoming call from a cellphone.”

“Damn it, find out! If Jack and Laura get killed, she is going down for conspiracy. I’ll call Jack. Better hope we’re not too late!”

“Let me call him,” said Sammy, who had his ear pressed close to Connie’s phone. “If Sy hears it’s me he won’t be so suspicious.”

“That’s if anyone is left alive to hear,” said Connie, winding down the window for a sudden need of fresh air while Sammy dialled.

Back at the clearing, Fateh hesitated when he recognized Hamburger. Jack looked at Laura and said, “Stay cool. See what happens, but on the first shot, bail out the door, stay low, and head for the bushes. Try to keep the engine block of our van between us and that gun.”

“It’s too far. We’ll never make it,” said Laura.

“I know.”

“You know? Then don’t you have a better idea?”

Fateh spoke to the other men in the van with him and gestured toward the bikers. It was obvious he hadn’t expected Satans Wrath to be present.

As if reading his mind, Hamburger barked out an order. Both the other prospects took their windbreakers off to reveal they were wearing club colours. They only had the bottom rocker, but it was enough to show they were prospects for Satans Wrath.

Fateh waved his arm at Hamburger and shouted, “You three better take off. I got business with these others!”

Jack saw Hamburger nod.

“Jack, the bikers are going to leave,” said Laura. “We’ll be massacred!”

Jack jumped from the van and approached Hamburger and took him aside, under the watchful aim of Fateh.

Hope you’re good at making friends fast, thought Laura.

After a terse and whispered conversation, she saw Jack hand his BlackBerry to Hamburger who threw it to the far side of the clearing, before shoving Jack back toward the van.

Oh, man …

Hamburger shouted, “Hey! You! The broad in the van! Get the fuck out here!”

Laura quickly got out and stood with her back to the side of the van next to Jack and Sy. She watched as Hamburger sent a text message on his BlackBerry.

Laura felt her BlackBerry vibrate and quickly shut it off. She expected it would also be thrown, but Hamburger simply glanced at her and said, “Smart move.”

A full two minutes ticked past before Hamburger received a reply, during which time Fateh manned the gun with both hands, staring at Jack and Sy with murderous intent.

Hamburger looked at the text message, subconsciously nodding his head as he did so. When he finished, he told Jack and Sy to remain where they were while he and his two associates stepped back to talk in private.

“What’s going on?” shouted Fateh from the van.

“Shut the fuck up and watch,” replied Hamburger, while walking back and standing in front of Sy.

“You are a stupid fuck, do you know that?” roared Hamburger as he punched Sy in the gut. Sy slumped and two more punches saw him fall to the ground where Hamburger started kicking him. Sy curled into a fetal postion and cried out in pain while loud cheers emitted from Fateh’s van.

After delivering a stomp to Sy’s kidneys, Hamburger spun around and punched Jack in the mouth. Jack fell back against the van, stumbling to the ground on one knee before slowly getting up. He knew better than to fight back and was relieved when Hamburger stepped away.

The other two prospects, with pistols drawn, searched Jack, Sy, and Laura. Jack’s rented van was searched next. The only weapon they found and took was a pistol they removed from Sy’s ankle holster.

Fateh smiled as he took one hand off the machine gun and gave the bikers the thumbs-up sign.

Hamburger smiled back as he and his two associates walked over to talk with Fateh.

“Think we should try to run for it?” cried Sy. “Fateh is looking at Hamburger … the bikers are between us. Maybe —”

“Wait,” mumbled Jack, with one hand checking his bloody teeth.

Seconds later, Fateh’s smile was replaced with a look of panic as Hamburger reached in with one meaty hand and grabbed him by the shirt and hurled him out onto the ground.

Hamburger then beat and kicked Fateh while the other two prospects held Fateh’s other four gang members at gunpoint. Moments later, they were searched and the bikers found five more handguns. After this, Fateh and his gang members were beaten and pistol-whipped with their own weapons.

After the beating, Hamburger ordered Fateh and his crew to get to their feet. Fateh stood, looking dumbstruck as one of the prospects drove away with Big Bertha.

“You really think you can get away with driving in here and pointing that fuckin’ cannon at us?” snarled Hamburger.

“We didn’t know you guys were here,” pleaded Fateh.

“Shut the fuck up! The cannon is ours. Consider it payment for fucking with us like that. Now fuck off! All of you!”

Fateh didn’t have to be told twice.

Hamburger and the remaining prospects returned to where Jack, Laura, and Sy were standing. Hamburger gestured to Jack’s bloody mouth and said, “That was to let you know we don’t like being used … although, under the circumstances, you made a pretty cool move.”

Jack held his jaw with his hand. Four of his teeth were loose, but he was glad they were still in place. He had seen the punch coming and jerked his head back to minimize the impact. He smiled wryly as he saw Fateh and his followers looking back over their shoulders while limping off down the lane.

“And you!” Hamburger yelled at Sy. “How the fuck did they know about this place? Who the fuck did you tell?”

“I … I … I —” Sy repeated and stopped. He was too afraid to think clearly.

“We’ll talk about it some other time,” said Hamburger. He gestured with his thumb to the van and said, “We got shit to unload, but I tell ya, any more fuck-ups like this and I’ll personally cut your head off and kick it up your ass.”

As soon as the chemicals and numerous boxes of glassware were loaded, Jack, Laura, and Sy stood at the back of their van and watched the bikers drive away.

Jack looked at Laura in silence.

“I’m okay,” she said. “How’s your mouth?”

“Bleeding a bit. I’m sure it looks worse than it is. I didn’t swallow any teeth.”

“So what the fuck did you whisper to Hamburger?” asked Sy. His voice had reached a higher pitch and he was trembling.

“I told him that I had already called my people and said it looked like Satans Wrath had declared war on us and had lured us into a trap. He denied it and said they would never put themselves in the middle like that. I told him it wouldn’t look that way and he should talk it over with his boss. Guess the boss agreed with me.”

“Fuck! How did you know the biker boss would think that?”

“I didn’t.”

“Man, we’re lucky. You saved my life again.”

“Ditto for me,” said Laura.

“Saved mine, too,” replied Jack. “But the question remains. How did Fateh know we were here? Who did you tell?”

“I never said much to anyone,” said Sy.

“Someone knew. You even needed a map to get here.”

“Last night we were partying at Brewski’s with the guys who got released from jail. I may have said I was doing a deal with you, but that was all. I also took the map out to look at it because I wanted to make sure we didn’t get lost.”

“You put it back in your pocket after?” asked Jack.

“Well, I was interrupted, what with the partying an’ all. It was on the kitchen counter for a while.” He looked intently at Jack and said, “You think Brewski is playin’ me for the other side?”

“We were set up when we left the party at Roach and Bagger’s. Brewski wasn’t there then.”

“You figured Roach and Bagger set us up that night? That’s what you said!”

“I’m sure Roach and Bagger set us up to the cops the night we went to Weasel’s. Looks like someone else is trying to feed us to the other side. You know the guys better than I do. Out of the other four guys who were at Brewski’s last night, how many were partying at Roach and Baggers that night?”

“All of ’em were there.”

“You’ve got a mole. You better find out who, or you’re dead.”

“More like all of us are dead,” added Laura.

“Come on,” said Sy. “I gotta take a quick piss, but then we better hurry before Fateh and his crew decide to return. They might still have their phones.”

Sy’s mention of phones reminded Jack that he still didn’t have his. He walked across the clearing to get it and saw a folded piece of paper on the ground where Fateh had been beaten. It was a roughly drawn map of their location. Directions were also written on it … in female handwriting. On the other side of the paper were the partial notes of a school assignment.

“Hey, Princess,” yelled Jack. “Help me find my phone, will you?”

As soon as Laura joined him, he turned his back to where Sy was urinating in the bushes and said, “Take a look.”

Laura glanced at the paper and said, “Lorraine. She’s the mole. What do we do? Sy will kill her. She’s only sixteen.”

“I know and if Connie finds out, she will demand that she be protected. It will blow everything.”

“It will for sure. Maybe burn our friend as well … but if we don’t do something, she may get us killed.”

“We’ve only got a couple of seconds to decide,” said Jack, glancing back over his shoulder at Sy who was zipping up. “I know she’s young … so were Cassandra and Julie Goodwin.”

“Oh, man.”

“Well?”

Laura tilted her head back, briefly closing her eyes. A sixteen-year-old girl … am I ready to go that far? What is the right thing to do?

“We don’t have time,” said Jack. “We need to decide. You know what I would do, but not if you don’t agree.”

Laura looked at Jack and said, “I guess if she’s old enough to play with the big boys, she’s old enough to face the consequences.”

Jack nodded, scooped his BlackBerry off the ground, and they returned to the van as Sy climbed into the back seat behind them.

“Take a look at what fell out of Fateh’s pocket,” said Jack, handing Sy the piece of paper.

Sy’s mouth dropped open. “A copy of my map!” He studied the paper, flipping it over and added, “It’s a girl’s handwriting. That fuckin’ Lorraine! She was the only girl there last night! That devil bitch! She’s dead!”

“We’ve got business that needs taking care of first,” said Jack, with a jerk of his thumb toward the chemicals.

“I can’t believe it,” seethed Sy. He punched his hand with his fist and said, “Yeah, okay. Let’s drop this off with your buddy. Make sure you drive slow. Between the chemicals and the bomb stuff, we don’t want to take any chances.”

“Did you say bomb?” asked Jack and Laura simultaneously.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Jack was driving out of the lane when he remembered to turn his BlackBerry back on. It rang immediately.

“Hey, Sammy. How ya doin’?” asked Jack.

“Okay to talk?” whispered Sammy, as Connie listened in.

“For you, sure.”

“You have no idea how relieved I am to hear your voice. Something came over the lines. A young woman tipped off Balvinder’s people that you, Laura, and Sy were leaving to do a dope deal this morning. She even gave them a map of where you were going. They’re going to try and take you all out with a 50 calibre.”

“We don’t have to worry about that,” said Jack. “That is already taken care of.”

“That?” said Sammy. “Don’t tell me you’ve got another problem.”

“We certainly do,” replied Jack.

“What else is going on? Can you give me a hint?” asked Sammy.

“Canada Day?” said Jack. “Not much. You planning a party?”

“Canada Day?” replied Sammy. “I don’t get it.”

“Sure, a party will be fun … You got what … fireworks … those really big ones? Sounds like a blast. Be careful nobody is drunk or stoned. Make sure someone is around who knows how to handle the stuff.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yup. See you in about an hour.”

“What the hell was that all about?” asked Connie as soon as Sammy hung up.

“Don’t know what happened with Big Bertha, but somehow it has been taken care of.”

“Oh, great,” muttered Connie. “That will probably mean there are more bodies someplace. What is all this about Canada Day?”

“Call bomb disposal and have them standing by.”

“Bomb disposal! Oh, mother of Jesus!”

When Jack hung up, Sy looked at him and said, “This is embarrassing. I’m shakin’ like a leaf. You two … even you, Princess … no offence, but you act like it was no big deal.”

“I did find it disconcerting,” said Laura.

“Disconcerting! I was scared shitless! Did you see the size of that bazooka? One bullet would take your whole head off!”

“Doesn’t help to dwell on it,” said Jack. “Learn from the past, but think about the future.”

“I am thinking about the future,” said Sy. “I gotta tell ya, I don’t know how much longer I can handle this shit. I’ve never been shot at or threatened like this before in my life until I met you.”

He’s got a point there, thought Laura.

“My nerves are shot,” continued Sy. “I’ve been thinking of moving back to Ontario. Maybe get back in with my ex and our little girl.”

“You’re a dad?” asked Jack.

“Yeah. Got a six-year-old. Haven’t seen her in four years.” Sy strained to looked back and forth in the side mirrors and said, “You making sure we’re not being tailed? They never took Fateh’s phones.”

“I’m making sure,” replied Jack. “But speaking of that, what do you intend to do about Lorraine?”

“Stop at the first pay phone we come to. I’m gonna call Brewski. It’s his slut. He can take responsibility.”

“You can’t talk over a phone,” warned Jack.

“No worries. We have a system. I text him on my BlackBerry and tell him to pick me up a coffee and a doughnut. I give him ten minutes to go down the block to a coffee shop and I call him there.”

Minutes later, Sy spotted a pay phone and Jack pulled over and parked. As soon as Sy left to use the phone, Jack turned to Laura and said, “Sammy and Connie already know about the ambush.”

“How?”

“It came over the lines. Lorraine called someone to pass on the info. Connie and Sammy haven’t identified her yet, but Sammy called to warn us.”

“They’ll want us to hear the voice. What do we do?”

“We can’t tell Connie about what we did …” Jack glanced out the window at Sy and added, “Or what we are doing.”

“She’d have us up on conspiracy to murder,” replied Laura.

“It will also be hard to say that we don’t know her voice.”

“So what do we do?”

“Hope Sy works fast,” said Jack. “Wait while I go check with him.”

Sy called the coffee shop and was telling Brewski what happened when Jack walked up to him.

“When and how do you plan on doing it?” asked Jack, interrupting Sy’s conversation.

“The fuckin’ devil bitch is at Brewski’s place,” said Sy. “He wants to take her out to where we were. Says he’ll slash her up about a thousand times, then gut her with a knife and let her crawl around in the dirt until she dies.”

“Bad idea,” whispered Jack. “That will bring the cops down on everyone. They know she is Brewski’s girlfriend. If they end up getting him on the murder beef, he’s liable to turn on you to try and get a reduced sentence.”

“She’s gotta die! She’s gonna pay for what she tried to do to us!”

“To start with, I bet it was Brewski who got her hooked and mainlining coke,” said Jack.

“So what? Who cares about that?”

“You and he both should. You can’t trust an addict. For a free fix, they would turn in their own mother, which is likely how Fateh got to her.”

“You think we should wait?”

“Waiting is too dangerous. Lorraine might try it again. You need to act immediately.”

“So what the fuck are you saying we should do?”

“No torture. Nothing to draw heat. Let her kill herself.”

“How?”

“Give her something she will take and overdose and drop her somewhere. Make sure none of your guys are even around when she does it.”

Sy thought for a moment and nodded in agreement.

“Princess and I won’t be coming around until we know it’s done and things are safe.”

“I’ll tell Brewski to do it right away.”

“Send me a text message on my BlackBerry. Punch in the numbers 6660 and I’ll know the job is done.”

“Six, six, six … sign of the devil,” said Sy. “What’s the zero for?”

“The devil is in the hole.”

“Cool.”

“This whole situation isn’t at all cool,” replied Jack.

“Yeah, I know. I fucked up.”

“One more thing …” said Jack, pausing to lock eyes, “don’t you or Brewski tell a soul about Lorraine, got it?” he said, while jabbing his finger into Sy’s chest.

Sy nodded sombrely.

Forty minutes later, Jack introduced Sy to Sammy.

“You took longer than you figured,” said Sammy. “Any problems?”

“Some of the competition were around,” replied Jack, “but they chatted with the bikers and left. No big deal.”

Sammy saw Sy’s mouth gape open at Jack’s comment, followed by a look of awe as Sy stared at Jack. Sammy smiled to himself. Well, you’ve got his respect, Jack. Reeled him in, hook, line, and sinker.

Sammy gave everyone a quick tour of the farmhouse and Sy appeared satisfied with an inner room where Sammy had installed shelving units and table.

“Got a good lock on the door, too,” said Sammy, “in case someone comes by.”

“We get a percentage of everything you make,” said Sy. “Jay said you are planning on shipping it back east. What doesn’t go back east goes to us. Understood? No side deals with anyone around here.”

“I understand,” replied Sammy. “Who do I contact for dropping off the product and ordering more chemicals?”

“Me. That’s what the bikers want.” Sy smiled and gave Sammy a slap on the back. “Really glad to meet you. Any friend of Jay is a friend of mine. Now, let me show you how to set a lab up like a professional. Even comes with a booby trap.”

“Wonderful,” said Sammy lamely.

Over the next several hours, Jack and Laura watched as Sy gave Sammy an in-depth course, complete with instructions on how to run a meth lab. He also screwed a small metal lever inside the door at the top. A wire ran past the lever through small eyehole screws over to a large glass carboy set on a shelf on the opposite side of the room. A rubber bung plugged the hole at the top of the carboy. The bung had been punctured with a grouping of small nails so that the spikes from the nails hung down inside the carboy. Sy threaded the wire through the small hole in the bung and let it dangle inside the carboy.

“We tie a small glass vial to the end of the wire in the carboy,” said Sy. “If someone comes in and doesn’t lower the lever above the door, it will yank the glass vial up where it will shatter against the nails. The stuff in the vial falls in the carboy and … ka-boom!” he yelled.

“Is this really necessary?” asked Jack.

Sy shrugged and said, “The fuckin’ fireball will wipe out everything. No DNA, no fingerprints … not nothin’. This is how Cocktail said to do things and the bikers say so, too. Anybody comes in that ain’t supposed to … well, there won’t be anything left of ’em but ashes.”

“Sounds like Cocktail and the bikers are protecting themselves more than the one doing the cooking.”

“Gotta play by their rules,” said Sy. “Sometimes the bikers are waiting when you arrive. If it ain’t hooked up right, you’re in for a hell of a beating. Besides, it’s easy to do. There is enough give in the line to open the door a little. If the lever is up, then the top of the lever is behind the line and the bomb is activated. All you gotta do is flick the lever down when you enter and back up when you leave.”

“Hope I don’t forget,” noted Sammy.

Sy chuckled and said, “Everybody says that. If I thought you would forget, I’d have asked you to pay the money up front.”

Sammy’s face paled as he studied the apparatus.

“Don’t worry,” said Sy. “You won’t forget after what I show you next. Let’s go outside around back.” He glanced at Laura and said, “This is guy stuff. Might be better if you wait in the van.”

Laura did as suggested while Sy retrieved the plywood box containing Harry the Hamster, before going behind the house with Jack and Sammy.

Sammy set the box on the ground and took the lid off.

Jack saw the hamster sit back on its hind legs as it peered up at them. The box had a small glass bottle containing a liquid in one corner of the box. Sy took the lid off the bottle and picked up a plastic straw and an eyedropper.

“Watch this,” said Sy. He took a pill bottle containing a clear liquid from his pocket and removed a couple of drops with the eyedropper. “Don’t bend over too close,” he cautioned, before using the eyedropper to place a few drops in the end of the straw and tip it so the drops ran down the straw and into the bottle inside the box.

Immediately a small explosion ignited an inferno inside the box. Harry the Hamster instantly became a squealing ball of flame and bashed and clawed against the side of the box for a moment before succumbing.

“They always panic and keep running into the wall,” said Sy. “Haven’t had one jump out of the box yet.”

Jack and Sammy traded grim glances over the odour of burned hair and charred flesh.

“Awful, ain’t it?” said Sy. “I almost puked the first time Cocktail showed me, but as he says, you won’t forget to disarm the door. He also said to put a picture of a hamster on the door to remind you each time you enter.”

Jack and Sammy knew a picture would not be necessary. Neither man would ever forget.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Jack and Laura drove Sy back to his apartment and waited in the underground parking lot while Sy went up to speak with Brewski. When Sy returned, he said, “Brewski gave her some stuff and dropped her off at her parents’ place about two hours ago.”

Jack nodded silently.

“He said she had asked where we were. He said he didn’t know and was worried because we should have been back. The little bitch pretended to worry, but it was all an act. Her mom and dad get home from work in another hour. I’m guessing she took it right away so they won’t see that she’s stoned. I’m sure she’s a goner.”

“I want it confirmed.”

“Will do. What are you up to?”

“Got some more business to take care of. Merchandise that needs moving. Call me when you know.”

“Six, six, six, the devil’s in the hole.”

As soon as Jack and Laura were alone, Jack called Connie and told her what had happened, except for anything to do with Lorraine or that they knew it was her who told.

“Get back here, pronto,” said Connie. “We need to find out who tried to set you up. I’m sure you’ll recognize her voice. She’s someone who knows you both. Sounds young.”

“What do we say to Connie?” asked Laura, while returning to the office.

“Stall until we know Lorraine has been taken care of.”

“What if she doesn’t OD? Maybe someone finds her in time?”

“Then we have to stall. Try and talk Connie out of doing anything that would heat us up until we know she’s dead.”

Laura nodded and was quiet. As Jack was driving, he saw that she was trembling and there were tears in her eyes.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t know where to start,” she replied. “Everything that happened today. Even the thing with the hamster. How can someone be so cruel? Why do people act the way they do?”

“Abusing pets … lighting fires … violence … classic symptoms of sexual abuse. Maybe Cocktail has some real demons lurking inside,” suggested Jack.

“And what about all the other stuff he’s responsible for? Gabriel’s little girl with cancer. Setting up labs everywhere and putting bozos in charge of them. Sending kids to rape and mutilate Amanda Flowers.” She looked at Jack for a response, but he remained quiet so she added, “I don’t know who to hate more, Cocktail or Sy.”

“Sy is a moron,” replied Jack. “He does whatever Cocktail says. Regardless, you have to face the facts. Even if we could prove Cocktail is behind all the labs, he wouldn’t get as much time as he would for murdering a priest. That has to be where our priority lies.”

“Yeah, and how much time will that be? It wasn’t premeditated, so what? Fifteen years max with parole in ten? You think that is enough? Will Gabriel’s kid even be alive in ten years? Think Amanda will ever forget?”

They stopped talking as Jack sat waiting for a traffic light. Jack stared at Laura for a moment before responding. “Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself of something. Why don’t you talk about what is really bothering you?”

Laura looked at Jack, took a couple of halting, deep breaths and said, “She’s only sixteen. I know she tried to kill us, but … but I’m not sure what we’re doing is right.”

“I don’t think there is a right thing. I try to look at it like destroying a rabid dog.”

“She’s not a dog. She’s a human. Someone’s sixteen-year-old daughter.”

“Imagine a sixteen-year-old in a clock tower with a rifle killing people. Imagine you’re a police sniper. Do you wait and hope the kid runs out of ammo? Somewhere along the way something went terribly wrong with this kid. Maybe she was born a psychopath … who knows. She may not have a rifle, but she’s just as deadly.”

“It would be easier if she were older,” replied Laura quietly.

“Compared to most other sixteen-year-olds, I would say she is a hell of a lot older.”

“I know, but where does it end? Where do we draw the line?”

“I don’t know. We have to decide in each given situation. You and I see and know things the rest of the world doesn’t. We need to survive and protect the people who work for us. To me, morality is a big issue and the more I do this job, the more I think morality and the law are polarized opposites.”

“We were sworn to uphold the law.”

“What about justice? I try to balance all three. Morality, the law, and justice. Sometimes it doesn’t work, but I try to do what I think is right.”

“It scares me.”

“It scares me, too. It would be easier if twelve informed people could think about it for as long as was needed. That is what the law intended. We don’t have that luxury. What we are doing now seems wrong. If she were to live and kill someone else, that would be wrong, too. Somehow we have to live with what we decide.”

Jack buzzed the security button to allow them access to the monitor’s main office and hallway leading to the monitoring rooms.

The door opened and Connie said, “There you two are. We were about to send out a search party. You both know Dallas, don’t you?”

Jack and Laura nodded. They knew Dallas was one of Connie’s partners and a blood-splatter expert.

“Hi, Jack,” said Dallas. “It’s been a while. Last time I saw you was behind that woman’s house where the priest got slaughtered. Remember?”

“Remember? I wish I could forget. I still dream about the blood. Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Not really,” replied Dallas, “but I don’t deal with the people end of things. I do my analysis and split.”

“And your analysis of this perp?” asked Laura.

“Prone to violent rage. Probably had a pretty bad childhood.” He looked at Jack, chuckled and added, “He’s not afraid of blood, that’s for sure. Not to mention what he did after —”

“Can it, Dallas!” said Connie sharply. She turned to Jack and Laura and in an apologetic voice said, “Sorry, there’s hold-back information I don’t want out. All you need to know is that ‘prone to violence’ is an understatement.”

“Not a problem,” said Jack. He knew that most homicide investigators kept information back. It made damning evidence in court if the accused admitted to something that only the killer knew about.

“Enough chit-chat,” said Connie. “I want you to listen to this girl’s voice and — Christ, you stink, Jack. Smell like burned hair. Anyway, come in and join the party. Third room down the hall. You said on the phone that all went well with Sammy and Sy?”

“Sammy is a good operator,” replied Jack. “Sy trusts him.”

“Good. Bomb disposal called a few minutes ago. They’ve neutralized the bomb. I don’t know what it was made of.”

“Some of it was ether,” replied Jack. “Highly flammable. I don’t know what the other ingredients were.”

“The lab will tell us,” replied Connie. “In the meantime they’ve put something else in the carboy to smell and look real.”

“Good,” replied Jack. “I think Sy will be dropping by in a few days with a prospect to see how Sammy is progressing.”

“How long before they expect their first shipment?” asked Connie.

“One week,” replied Jack. “I’m hoping to meet Cocktail long before then.”

“He didn’t show his face today,” noted Connie.

“With Sammy running a lab, Sy is even more comfortable with us. He already indicated that he would like me to be a silent partner. I’ll push that angle and demand to meet Cocktail. It only makes sense that I should meet him if I’m going to be Sy’s partner.”

“Providing this girl on the phone doesn’t kill you first,” said Connie, as she opened up the door to the monitor room.

As soon as Jack and Laura entered the room a young woman with teary eyes took off her headphones and said, “I’m really sorry. I should have been more on top of things over someone trying to set you up. I was backlogged and didn’t get around —”

“It’s okay,” replied Jack. “Not your fault. Everyone is short of manpower these days. Let me listen to who tried to set us up.”

“Got some other news for you, too,” said Connie, while waiting for the monitor to find and replay the conversations. “Satans Wrath searched your apartment this morning. They found the identification.”

“Perfect,” said Jack. “Love it when a plan comes together. Did you notify Anti-Corruption?”

“Already done. Someone checked your aliases on CPIC and saw the fake criminal record.”

“Someone?” asked Laura. “You mean we still don’t know who the dirty narc is?”

Connie smiled and said, “I talked with your husband. He said it gave them the lead they needed. They had six possibilities. Today, your aliases were checked using an access code belonging to the secretary in Drug Section.”

“The secretary?” asked Jack.

“Wasn’t her. She was gone on her lunch break when it happened. Elvis said only two of their suspects were working day shift and one was in court. They’ve finally figured it out.”

“Who?” asked Laura. “I used to work in that section.”

“Me, too,” echoed Jack.

“Constable Mark Cabot,” replied Connie.

“I know him,” replied Laura. “Very annoying type. Would start to drool any time a woman came close to him.”

“His dad is a Member of Parliament,” said Jack.

“I know, Elvis told me,” said Connie. “His application to join had been rejected, but someone pulled some strings.”

“Typical,” replied Jack. “I’d better give Elvis a call. Make sure he knows they still can’t bust him because it would identify our informant.”

“Elvis is on top of the situation. Their plan is to have him transferred to a small detachment up north where he can’t do as much harm.”

“Too bad our pretend war on drugs didn’t allow us to execute spies,” replied Jack.

“I agree with you there,” replied Connie.

“Speaking of spies,” said the monitor, “Listen to this.”

After the two conversations were played, Connie looked at Jack and asked, “Who is she?”

Jack furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

“She said you came on to her?” noted Connie. “At the party at Roach and Bagger’s house. You’ve got to know who she is.”

“Her name is on the tip of my tongue,” said Jack. “After what happened this morning, I’m too rattled to remember. The house was packed with people that night. I do remember some kid of about sixteen making a pass at me.”

“How about you, Laura?” asked Connie.

Laura shrugged and gestured with her hands to indicate she was at a loss.

“Sweet sixteen sure doesn’t apply to this little darling,” said Connie. “I thought this would be a piece of cake for you. How many people could have known about this morning?”

“We asked Sy the same question. Turns out he was at a party last night with a bunch of his people. Celebrating their short stay in jail over the incident at Weasel’s house. These guys aren’t the brightest. They talk a lot.”

“You can tell by her voice that she’s young,” said Connie. “Sy is bound to figure out who it is.”

“Possible,” admitted Jack.

“Which means we’ve got a girl out there that we need to identify and protect,” replied Connie.

“This isn’t the type of girl who will listen to you,” said Jack. “She will tell you to fuck off and all you will have accomplished is to heat everyone up.”

“I’m sure you’re right, but we still have to follow policy. It would look bad if we knew and didn’t at least try to help her.”

“We are so close,” said Jack. “A couple of days is all we need and we’ll find out who Cocktail is. Once that happens, Laura and I will fade away and you can warn the girl.”

“Fade away! If this kid stays on the scene you could both disappear for good.” Connie paused as she thought about the situation further and said, “Matter of fact, it’s too dangerous. I’m going to talk to my boss. I think we should pull the plug. If we keep tabs on Sy, sooner or later he’ll take us to Cocktail. I don’t want to risk your lives any further.”

“I appreciate your concern,” replied Jack, “but you can’t count on Sy leading you to Cocktail.”

“Why? He could have today.”

“Could have … but didn’t. Something stinks. Maybe the war is causing Satans Wrath to pull back a bit. Cocktail is a valuable commodity. They may decide to keep him back for protection.”

“It’s you, Laura, and Sammy who need protection.”

“We’re too close to back off.”

“We are close and I owe that to you two, but after this morning — things have gotten way out of hand. I’m sure if we put round-the-clock surveillance on Sy he’ll lead us to him.”

“Unless your surveillance is burned and they kill Sy to sever the connection. They did it last time. Not to mention the fact that I’ve bailed Sy out a couple of times. He may not survive. If he ends up dead, where do you go from there?”

“That’s just it. You talk like you’re only worried about Sy getting whacked. With someone in Sy’s gang feeding information to his enemies, other gangs shooting each other … things are too dangerous. A dead priest is one thing. Don’t put me in the spot of having to investigate the murder of you and Laura, too.”

“So how would you try and find her?” asked Laura.

“Don’t think we have a lot of choice. If you two can’t come up with her name, I’ll go over the list of names we collected from the people who went to the party at Roach and Bagger’s place. Start hammering on doors and shaking people until we figure out who she is. Her voice is distinctive enough. I’ll recognize her if I talk to her.”

“That will heat everyone up,” said Jack. “Satans Wrath will sever Cocktail’s relationship with Sy and anyone else in his gang. Even if they don’t, contacting her will make it extremely dangerous for Laura and me. Satans Wrath will suspect us no matter how you do it. I know Damien. The man isn’t stupid.”

“Which is why you can’t continue the UC,” said Connie. “It will be too dangerous.”

Jack looked at Laura, who shrugged her shoulders in response.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t really have a choice,” said Connie. “We have to find this kid and talk to her parents.”

“Okay,” replied Jack, “but don’t go hammering on doors yet. Give Laura and me a chance to review our undercover notes. As I said, her name is on the tip of my tongue.”

“I really would have thought that between the two of you, one of you would know something to help identify her,” said Connie suspiciously. She looked at Laura and asked, “Laura? Is there anything?”

Laura eyed Jack a little longer before turning to Connie and saying, “I can’t think of anything at the moment. Let us review our notes. Maybe something will twig.”

Connie stared a Laura without speaking.

Laura did her best to appear innocent, but saw the harsh look on Connie’s face. She knows I’m lying …

“I may have even written her name down,” said Jack. He glanced at his watch and said, “It’s six o’clock. Give us half-an-hour and I’ll call you.”

Connie waited until she was alone with Dallas and returning to their office, before saying, “Don’t count on Jack or Laura finding something in their notes to identify the girl. I think they wanted time out to talk in private.”

“Can you blame them?” asked Dallas. “You’re asking them to save some kid who’s trying to kill them. Christ, they were almost killed for the second time since starting this investigation. I wouldn’t blame them if they do decide to pull out altogether.”

“Is that how you read it?” asked Connie.

“What do you mean?”

Connie sighed and said, “Jack once told me that as an undercover operator you need to see the big picture. He said the scales of justice are different in that line of work.”

“How so?”

“He says he includes the moral issues as a counterbalance to the legal issues.”

“I don’t get what you’re saying,” replied Dallas.

“I’d say Jack and Laura are weighing whether to terminate the operation or let a teenaged girl be murdered so they can find some guy who smashed the brains out of a priest with a cement block. I think they already know who she is and are stalling.”

“Jesus … I mean … she’s evil, but she’s still just a kid.”

“Yeah,” sighed Connie, “a kid who likes to kill people.”

“And who knows what else she has done.”

Connie nodded.

“So what do we do about it?”

Connie shook her head and said, “We have to give them time to peruse their notes, it only makes sense. My guess is they will try to stall us for a day or two and continue the UC.”

“A day or two isn’t long.”

“It is if the kid gets murdered. We can’t afford to take that chance. We’ll start pounding on doors tonight and talking to as many young women as we can. She better hope that we find her before its too late.”

“For Jack and Laura … how do you decide on something like this? To live with that …”

“I don’t know. Maybe in their work the instinct to survive precludes armchair morality, but I don’t agree with it. Right is right and wrong is wrong.” Connie looked at Dallas and pointed her finger at him and added, “And having a sixteen-year-old kid murdered is wrong.”

“Did you say, have the kid murdered?”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jack and Laura sat at their desks for the next half-hour. Eventually Jack received a text message. He glanced at it and said, “It’s done. The devil is in the hole.”

Laura nodded.

Jack called Connie and said, “I’ve got her name.”

“You’re kidding,” said Connie in surprise. “Are you positive?”

“Yes. I told you it was on the tip of my tongue. Her name is Lorraine Calder.”

“Lorraine Calder? I know that name.”

“She’s the one involved in the suicide of Julie Goodwin, so you’ll have her address in your file. She also set up another young girl by the name of Cassandra.”

“Who’s that?”

“Another kid at the party the night Lorraine made a pass at me. Consider it good news that you don’t have Cassandra’s name in your file.”

“And you’re just remembering Lorraine’s name now? She’s Brewski’s girlfriend. You guys know her!”

“What can I say. It’s been a hell of a day. You try to remember details and voices after the day we had.”

“Yeah … okay. Sorry.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Go over to her house and speak with her parents. Maybe say we heard from an undisclosed source that some gang is going to kill her because they don’t trust her.”

“Lorraine won’t scare. She’ll tell you to pound sand and it will still heat things up as far as Laura and I are concerned. Satans Wrath will pull Cocktail away from these guys.”

“I don’t have a choice. As far as you and Laura go, it’s time for you to pull out.”

“Let me know how it goes.”

After hanging up, Connie looked at Dallas and said, “He gave me her name. Lorraine Calder. Her address is in our file. Somewhere in Surrey, as I recall.”

“Guess you were wrong about Jack,” replied Dallas.

Connie sat for a moment. “I wonder if I am,” she said, reaching for the telephone.

“Who you calling?” asked Dallas.

“Surrey Detachment.”

Moments later, Connie hung up the phone and said, “You can quit looking in the file. Lorraine’s parents came home from work an hour ago and found her dead in the washroom.”

“What?”

“It looks like an accidental overdose. When Lorraine’s parents got home they found that their bathroom door was locked. They banged on it and eventually opened it to find Lorraine slumped over the toilet with an empty syringe beside her. She had old track marks on her arms. The case looks pretty open and shut.”

“Man, what a coincidence,” said Dallas.

“Gee, that’s a word I’ve never heard before,” said Connie, sarcastically.

“Aren’t you going to phone Jack and Laura and let them know the investigation is still on?”

“You do it. Personally, I think they already know.”

Jack hung up the telephone after a short conversation with Dallas.

Laura looked at him and said, “That sounded amiable. I thought Connie would have grilled you more.”

“It wasn’t Connie on the other end. It was Dallas. I have a feeling that Connie is too angry to talk to us at the moment.”

“I understand that,” replied Laura. “I feel sickened and angry myself.”

“Are you in a hurry to get home?” asked Jack.

“Let’s see. Almost got killed this morning. Set up a drug lab this afternoon … not to mention what … or I should say who we set up at the same time. I’ve missed supper with my husband who I’ve hardly seen enough to recognize. I’m exhausted …”

Jack nodded his understanding.

Laura sighed and said, “With what happened today, I know I won’t be able to sleep tonight. What did you have in mind? Double martinis?”

“Tea.”

“Tea!”

“Gabriel called yesterday. She’s having your typical adolescent problems with Noah and sounded stressed. Faith is at home, too. I thought a visit to let them know they haven’t been forgotten would help.”

“You’re hoping that seeing Faith will convince our brains that what we did was the right thing? Finding Cocktail is more important than a young girl’s life?”

Jack gave Laura a sideways glance and said, “Well … this particular girl, yes. Also a yes for my motive to see Gabriel tonight. You’re getting to know me pretty well.”

“The sad thing is I think it’s a good idea. The emotional baggage I’m carrying is not something I want to bring home.”

“Then let’s see if we can shed some baggage.”

Gabriel, grateful for the visitors, poured tea while Noah sat watching television in another room. Faith was asleep in her bedroom.

“How has he been doing?” asked Jack, with a nod of his head toward the living room.

“Not well,” replied Gabriel, with a frown. “His grades are still slipping. I know he can do the work if he wants. A couple of years ago he was a top student. His personality has changed. Acts macho sometimes and listless other times. Gets angry with me all the time.”

Jack and Laura exchanged a glance and Jack looked at Gabriel and asked, “Any money disappearing around the house?”

“No, I keep track of every dime. Why would you ask that?”

“Does he have any new friends? Phone conversations that he hangs up on or changes when you come in the room?”

“No, he’s really a loner. Why … you think he could be on drugs! Good Lord, no. He goes to church every Sunday. He would never take any alcohol or drugs.”

“Have you talked to him about his behaviour?” asked Jack.

“I tried, but he walks away.”

“Would you like me to talk him?” asked Jack.

“Thanks, but no. I asked him how it was going with the counsellor at school and he just blew up at me. Said he wanted to be left alone and didn’t appreciate me interfering in his life. I think it best to leave him alone for now.”

“Do his moods seem to change, in that sometimes he seems really happy or other times tense or jittery?” asked Laura.

“No, more often he is off in his own little dream world, staring blankly into space.”

“Have you searched his room?” asked Jack.

“Why would I? I told you he would never use drugs. He is a good Christian.”

“I’m sure he is, but Noah has been under a lot of stress. He probably feels he has to be the man of the house. There is also a lot of peer pressure at his age.”

“What if he found out I searched his room? He would think I don’t trust him.”

“He would know that you care and that you love him,” replied Jack.

Gabriel thought for a moment and said, “I’ll think about it.”

Jack arrived home as the CBC National news was starting. Natasha stood up from the television set and gave him a long kiss followed by an even longer hug.

“What’s that for?” asked Jack.

“Can’t a girl give her guy a hug and a kiss? Even if he does stink,” she added. “You smell like your hair got scorched.”

“I was near a fire,” he said, plunking himself down to stare at the television set. “Let me catch the news, then I’ll take a shower.

Natasha saw the distant look in Jack’s eyes. She knew that there was something more to the fire than Jack wanted to talk about.

“Three days ago you said this assignment might be over in a week,” said Natasha. “Do you still think that?”

She saw a brightness flicker in his eyes. “We’re almost finished,” he said. “I’m thinking it will be over in a couple of days now.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, good,” he said, once more staring blankly at the news.

Natasha knew the ritual. She did the same thing after a day that was particularly tough. Jack needed to give his brain a rest. She had something she had been holding back from telling him. She decided she couldn’t wait any longer.

As the news ended, Nastasha brought Jack a martini and sat beside him.

“Hey, this is unexpected,” he said, “where’s yours?”

“There is something I have to tell you,” replied Natasha. “Something I’ve known for a little while. I was going to wait until your investigation was over, but I can’t keep this from you any longer.”

“Is everything okay?”

“How is your martini?” she asked.

Jack took a sip and said, “Fine. Aren’t you going to have one?”

“No,” replied Natasha, before smiling. “That’s what I have to tell you. No drinking for me for a while. At least, not for another six months or so.”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

It was eleven o’clock at night when Damien turned off the news and buzzed his electronic gate to let Pussy Paul inside. Moments later, the two men went for a walk outside.

“Our Horseman narc got a call this afternoon,” said Pussy Paul. “He’s being transferred back to uniform. They told him it was time to circulate some people out of some small detachment up north.”

“Too bad, that’s the trouble with the RCMP. They keep transferring people. Makes it hard to develop permanent rats. This guy’s father is a Member of Parliament, I was hoping we could eventually get him to co-operate with us in exchange for saving his son.”

“I know. Even more disturbing is our narc thinks the transfer is a bit sudden and premature. He says other guys have been in the unit longer than he has.”

“Interesting,” replied Damien. “Has he done anything for us recently?”

“Yeah, he checked out a couple of people for us. Some guy by the name of Jay, along with his girlfriend. Jay is rumoured to be part of the Irish mafia from back east. They moved here recently.”

“Where do they fit in?” asked Damien.

“Jay’s cousin is a cook who works under Sy and he introduced the two of them. Jay and Sy are doing business together. They were with Sy this morning when Fateh showed up. It was Jay who convinced Hamburger to send the text. Hamburger relayed to Whiskey Jake, who decided to put a stop to Fateh’s plan.”

“I haven’t spoken to Whiskey Jake about that yet, but I’m glad he put a stop to it,” replied Damien.

“Because we might be starting a war with the Irish?”

“Fuck the Irish. No, it’s the heat I’m trying to avoid. The Brotherhood has the attention of the police now, but it would be nothing compared to what they would have if they opened up with a 50 calibre. The city would panic. There isn’t a politician around who wouldn’t jump on the bandwagon to demand more police and resources to keep the city safe.”

“Gotcha. Well, maybe it’s a coincidence about the narc being transferred, but I thought I should tell you,” said Pussy Paul.

“I’m glad you did. I don’t believe in coincidences. Hasn’t Sy suffered some serious losses in the last couple of weeks? Some of his guys busted with guns?”

“Yeah, but Sy figured he took care of that. Two of his guys named Roach and Bagger.”

“Maybe he took care of it and maybe he didn’t,” replied Damien.

“You think Jay is a rat?”

“Or a cop … possible …”

“Balvinder’s guys tried to do them all last Saturday when they left a party. That was the deal on the news.”

“I spoke to Lance and Whiskey Jake about it,” said Damien.

“I know. Lance filled me in on your meeting. The thing is, there haven’t been any arrests over the car chase and shootings. Also none today after Fateh showed up and donated the 50 calibre to us.”

“You would think there would be if Jay was a cop. Still, who knows, it’s possible he’s a rat.”

“Want him taken out?” asked Pussy Paul.

“I heard that Rashard is hooking up with Balvinder, Fateh, and Quang.”

“Yeah, I think he heard about the 50 cal and figured he would go with whoever had access to the biggest guns. Of course, that was before we took it.”

“Sy’s gang has had some serious problems lately,” noted Damien. “He, Mongo, and Munch will lose the war for sure. With all this bullshit that’s taking place, it’s not worth jeopardizing Cocktail to let it continue.”

“Time to eliminate the weak?”

Damien looked thoughtfully at Pussy Paul and said, “Yes, time to protect our assets. Have the three losers taken care of. If Jay tags along with Sy, do him, too.”

“When?”

“Tell Cocktail to arrange it before the week is over. Tell the losers we will broker a truce talk between all the bosses of both sides. Tell them everyone will be searched and that no guns or phones will be allowed and that they will be blindfolded. If Jay is a rat, it will make us sound like good guys for trying to stop the violence. Have Cocktail set up the ambush using Balvinder, Fateh, Quang, and Rashard to carry it out.”

“You want them all involved?” asked Pussy Paul.

“Yes. Tell Cocktail we will supply him with a couple of guys to help with the initial search of Sy, Munch, and Mongo, but after that, the killing will be done by the new Brotherhood. Don’t lend Cocktail any of our prospects for the search. I want our hands to look clean if something goes sideways. Use some wannabe bikers. Someone expendable.”

“Why use four bosses to carry it out? I’m sure any one of the gangs are capable of looking after three or four unarmed guys.”

“I want the remaining four bosses from The Brotherhood in on it together. Make sure all their hands are dirty. No loose ends to ever rat out. Once Sy and his buddies are taken care of, bury the bodies and tell everyone to keep mum about it.”

Jack put his martini glass down on the table. “Are you sure?”

Natasha smiled. “If I’m not, I shouldn’t be practising medicine.”

“I’m going to be a dad!”

“I’m eleven weeks along. I’d like to wait another week or two before telling anyone.”

Jack held both of Natasha’s hands in his as he gazed at her, before his eyes watered and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.

Incredible, unbelievable … I’m going to be a dad!

When he stopped kissing Natasha he leaned back as his BlackBerry vibrated. It was Gabriel. Jack answered automatically, but his thoughts were with Natasha.

“I did it,” Gabriel whispered. “I searched his room tonight when he was watching television. You were right that I should have.”

Jack felt his heart sink. Gabriel did not need the extra stress.

“Marijuana?” asked Jack.

“No. Smut. Filthy smut.”

“Smut?”

“Magazines. They were under his mattress. Playboy … something called Hustler.”

Jack was glad that Gabriel couldn’t see him smile.

“What should I do? Maybe confront him,” said Gabriel as her initial shock turned to anger.

“Uh, I wouldn’t get too upset,” said Jack. “Your son has reached puberty. It is perfectly normal.”

“Normal! These magazines are not normal. Where could he have gotten them from? They’re lurid, un-Christian, disgusting —”

“Explains why he has been staring off into space,” said Jack. “He’s thinking about girls. It is a phase that most young men go through. Be happy that there was no sign of drugs. What Noah is going through is life. His blank stares … give him time. He’ll mature and snap out of it.”

“Do you think so?”

“Yes. I would leave him be for now.”

Jack was wrong. Noah would never snap out of it for as long as he lived.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Three days later, Cocktail rented a room at the Best Western in Richmond and waited as Satans Wrath prospects eventually delivered Balvinder, Fateh, Quang, and Rashard to his room.

“Gentlemen,” said Cocktail. “I have some good news. As you all know, Satans Wrath are upset that the war is dragging out.”

“Who needs them,” said Fateh. “You’re the guy with the chemicals. Deal straight to us.”

“That isn’t going to happen. What you are suggesting is that I become their competition. I think we all know what happens to their competition … or were you hoping to take out a life insurance policy on me?”

A few in the room chuckled. Cocktail smiled and thought, Sounds better than saying you four are a bunch of uneducated yahoos. I need Satans Wrath to protect me from degenerates like yourselves.

“So what is the good news?” asked Rashard.

“The good news, especially for you,” replied Cocktail, “is that Satans Wrath believe that the four of you should be the only ones in charge of The Brotherhood and they are willing to help. Which is where I come in.”

“They’re going to help us?” said Fateh. “Does this mean they’re gonna give Big Bertha back to me? Or do they plan on killin’ the fuckers for us?”

“There is one small test that the four of you have to complete. For you, I am sure it is not a big deal.”

“And that is?” asked Balvinder.

“I will arrange for Sy, Mongo, and Munch to go to a place that I choose. None of them will be armed or have any contact with anyone. In fact, we might even blindfold them. When they arrive, they will be tied up and interviewed in regard to their personal assets, such as where they hide their money. The four of you are then to ensure that they are never found again.”

“How will you get them to go along with this?” asked Quang.

“I will tell them that Satans Wrath is brokering a truce. That everyone will be taken to a secret location to start the negotiations. I will say that everyone will be searched and that guns and cellphones will not be allowed to ensure everyone’s safety. I’ll tell them that Satans Wrath will be doing extensive counter-surveillance to make sure nobody decides to try and follow.”

“The bikers will do that for us?” asked Balvinder.

“No. As I said, this is a test of leadership for the four of you. The bikers want to see how you handle it. It should be relatively easy because Sy and his associates will believe the bikers are protecting them.”

“They could still be there,” said Balvinder. “It would be good to have them around for security in case someone tries to escape or somethin’.”

“Quite frankly I believe it is because you have not proven yourself to them yet that they won’t be there,” replied Cocktail. “They don’t trust you enough. This task will not only change that, but it will result in a lot more profit for you in the future.”

“How do we know that we can trust the bikers … or you,” said Quang. “Maybe you’re telling the same bullshit to Sy and the rest of ’em.”

Cocktail sighed and slowly shook his head like an adult about to admonish a child. “To start with, you will all be armed,” said Cocktail. “As far as the location goes, I was thinking that the farm out in Mt. Lehman would be good. Your brother still has the lab there, does he not?”

Quang nodded and said, “It’s my farm, too. I’m looking after the lab while my brother is away.”

“It is only an hour drive out of the city,” continued Cocktail, “yet isolated enough that we won’t be bothered by anyone when we find out where they hide their money. As I recall, you have the equipment there to dig a deep hole.”

“I have a backhoe.”

“Good. I would suggest you get busy digging a pit. Today is Friday. I would like to be cracking the champagne open this Sunday night over their grave.”

“Who gets their money?” asked Balvinder. “Us or the bikers?”

“The five of us get it. Consider it a reward for what we must do.”

“Sounds perfect,” said Quang. “Cut off the heads of the snakes and the rest of the bodies will wither and disappear.”

The following day, Cocktail had a meeting with Sy, Mongo, and Munch. They were told that Satans Wrath wanted to broker a truce and that a meeting was being arranged for the next night.

“Only I will know the location,” said Cocktail. “I’ll give you a place to meet me first. After that, no guns and no phones. You’ll be driven to a safe location to talk. Same thing for the guys on the other side. They’ll be met, searched, and driven, as well. Everyone will be blindfolded. We don’t expect the first meeting to resolve everything, but the negotiations will be conducted in a proper and civilized fashion. Anyone even thinking of causing violence will have to deal with Satans Wrath.”

“The other side might not go for it,” said Sy. “I heard Rashard has joined up with them. They may think they can get everything and us nothin’.”

“The bikers won’t put up with any more bullshit,” said Cocktail. “They want the territory divided fairly. They’re not going to sit back any longer and watch things shuffle back and forth as the bullets fly.”

“But there are four of them and only three of us,” said Mongo. “They’ll still demand more of the action than they should get.”

“I’ve got someone who could help all of us in that regard,” said Sy. “My friend Jay.”

“We don’t need no more bosses to be making our share even smaller,” said Mongo.

“You’ve met him,” replied Sy. “Remember what he said in your office that night when I brought him and his girlfriend to your pizza place? He doesn’t want to be a boss. The guy wants to be independent.”

“If that is the case, why would he come to the negotiations?” asked Munch.

“Because he’s in a business where the more contacts you have, the better. He could help us by strengthening what we say is our territory and we could help him unload some merchandise sometime.”

Cocktail thought about it. Four killers and four victims. Everyone will get a chance to prove themselves. He smiled at Sy and said, “I don’t see a problem. Bring him along. I look forward to meeting him.”

Chapter Forty

Late Saturday afternoon, Jack listened intently as he walked down the apartment hallway with Sy and heard about Satans Wrath’s plan to broker a truce.

“Cocktail told me about it an hour ago,” continued Sy. “I trust him. He favours me over the others and nobody is gonna fuck with Satans Wrath, so safety isn’t an issue.”

“How long have you known Cocktail?” asked Jack.

“Met him a couple years back through the bikers. Don’t even know where he lives, let along his real name, but I can tell ya, the dude is smart. We’ve come a long way since he came on the scene. We’re making the best shit in Canada. Maybe even the world. The big problem is this fuckin’ war. Once it is over, we sit back, relax, and rake in the dough.”

“Hope it works out for you. Cocktail sounds like a guy I should meet sometime. Sammy should have his first batch done in a few days. He’s using my contacts to ship some of it back east. Maybe we could get more people and expand operations there, as well.”

“Fuck, am I glad to hear you say that.”

“Why?”

“Tomorrow night you got your chance to meet him.”

Jack could barely contain his excitement. “Oh?” he said, as casually as he could sound.

“At the truce meeting. I asked him and he said to bring you along. With your contacts, I figure you can help me, Mongo, and Munch when it comes to saying who has control of what territory. It will work out for the benefit of all of us.”

“Maybe I could go with you,” replied Jack, trying to sound like he wasn’t sure whether or not he should. “I would like to talk to Cocktail about the possibility of starting other labs in other provinces. I don’t want Mongo and Munch knowing the details as it doesn’t concern them.”

“I’m sure you can talk to him after the meeting. I told him a bit about you. He said he was looking forward to meeting you.”

“Okay … sure, I’ll go along with you.”

“Good. Be here at eight o’clock tomorrow night. No guns and no phones. Satans Wrath will make us all dance through the ropes to make sure nobody is planning anything stupid.”

It was early evening when Jack and Laura walked into Connie’s office. Sammy and Dallas were waiting when they arrived.

“Sorry we’re running late,” said Jack. “Saturday shoppers. Traffic is bad.”

“Your message said it was important,” replied Connie, harshly.

“Yes. Everything okay, Connie?” asked Jack. “Haven’t spoken to you since Tuesday.”

“And you know damn well why!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t. Have I offended you somehow?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” replied Connie. “Last Tuesday was when Lorraine Calder accidentally overdosed.

“Yes?” replied Jack, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I was angry then. How do you think I felt later when I found out that Roach and Bagger accidentally died of carbon monoxide poisoning the morning before? That was the same morning I suggested we do surveillance of them and you said not to bother, that they were just low-level punks and that it would be a waste of time.”

“Don’t you think doing surveillance of dead bodies would be a waste of time?” replied Jack. “It’s not like they would be doing much.”

“Don’t you get that tone with me! This … this … I’ve got nothing to say to you!” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

“Connie, I’m sorry,” replied Jack glumly. “I was trying to be funny. Guess it didn’t come across that way. It seems to me that every time a bad guy dies, you feel like I had something to do with it. You said yourself the deaths were accidental. Maybe it is time you had faith in the investigators that they know what they’re doing.”

Connie stared as Laura gave Jack a sympathy pat on his back while he looked mournfully around the room. His big blue eyes … he does look innocent. Am I wrong? Have I become that cynical and suspicious?

“Let’s get back to why I called this meeting,” said Jack, with a sigh. “I met with Sy and he’s arranged for me to meet Cocktail tomorrow night.”

“You serious?” asked Dallas.

“Very.”

“Yes!” said Sammy, and he and Dallas both clapped their hands.

Connie’s frown dissolved. “Where? What time?”

Jack told them about the conversation he had with Sy.

“Any idea where the meeting will be?” asked Connie, becoming all business.

“No … and don’t even think of following. We’re not blowing it after all this.”

“Sy doesn’t even know Cocktail’s real name,” noted Connie. “How do you expect to find out?”

“I’ll figure something out. Seeing him is half the battle. Maybe I’ll get a chance to scoop something with his fingerprints on it.”

“That would work if he has a record,” noted Dallas.

“I’ll still need to prove it was him who killed Father Brown,” said Connie.

“We’ve got the strand of hair found in the priest’s smashed skull,” said Dallas.

“Defence could claim the wind blew that in,” replied Connie.

“I bet Gabriel or Noah will identify him,” said Jack. “Coupled with renting under a false name, it should make him look pretty bad.”

“Not to mention if you show a jury all the blood splatters up the back of the house,” said Dallas. “They’ll freak out when they see what a monster he really is.”

“I know, I’ve thought of that, but I need to prove motive. How hard do you think it will be to prove he is directly involved with the labs?”

“There is no doubt that if you execute a search warrant on him you will come up with the chemical connection,” said Jack.

“And the glassware,” added Laura.

“And unexplained income,” said Sammy.

“Hey, not to mention good old-fashioned police work,” said Jack. “With what you have on him, I bet you get him to crack during interrogation.”

Connie lifted the crucifix from her neck, kissed it, and smiled.

Jack and Laura spent late Sunday afternoon and early evening in Connie’s office, reviewing her entire file. Every name, every address, and every detail were carefully examined. Jack knew that something considered trivial could have the utmost importance later.

At seven o’clock, Jack glanced at his watch and said, “Time to rock and roll.”

Sammy, Dallas, and Connie wished him luck, but remained seated while Laura walked with him toward the exit.

“Wish I could come with you,” said Laura.

“These guys are not enlightened when it comes to gender,” replied Jack. “Strictly an old boys’ club.”

“It’s dangerous going by yourself without backup. I’ve got an uneasy feeling about it.”

“A meeting with no guns … hell, it sounds safer than what we’ve been through so far.”

“And no phones to call for help. Think you can trust the prospects to do their job?”

“You sound like you have trust issues.”

“Maybe I do. You’ve been acting funny these last couple of days.”

“Funny?”

“Not yourself. Everything okay at home with you and Natasha?”

“Is it ever,” said Jack, grinning to himself. “It’s great.”

Laura saw the sparkle in Jack’s eyes and smiled. She’d had a hunch and it would appear that she was right.

Jack drove to Sy’s apartment complex and parked in the underground lot. He was about to take his BlackBerry off when a call came through. He hesitated when he saw that it was Gabriel and checked his watch. He still had ten minutes to spare.

“Hi, Gabriel.”

“Hi,” said Gabriel, sounding exasperated. “I wanted to talk about something. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“I’m about to go into a meeting, but I have a couple of minutes.”

“You’re working on the Sabbath? Oh, but you’re not —”

“Couldn’t be helped. What’s up?”

“Noah’s been acting up again. He got in trouble with the police.”

“What happened?”

“Stupid kid’s stuff. He lit the neighbour’s fence on fire this afternoon. They got it out before there was any real damage. Another neighbour who lives behind us saw him do it.”

“Did he say why he did it?”

“I asked. He says he doesn’t know why. It’s plain silly. I don’t know what to do with him. One minute he throws a temper tantrum and the next minute he’s crying over nothing.”

“I’m going to be busy for a day or two, but how about I drop by and talk to him later in the week?”

“I hate to bother you.”

“No bother,” said Jack. No time like the present to practise being a dad …

Minutes later, Jack met Sy and went with him in Sy’s car to a multi-level public parking lot where Sy parked on the roof level.

“How long do we wait?” asked Jack, reaching into his jacket pocket.

“Cocktail didn’t say. All I know is we are to wait. Mongo and Munch should be along, too.” Sy paused when he saw what Jack had in his hand and said, “What the fuck you doing?”

“Rubik’s Cube,” replied Jack. “It’s something I play with when I’m nervous. Helps me chill out.”

“Don’t worry,” replied Sy. “Tonight ya got nothin’ to be nervous about.”

Two more cars arrived and Jack saw that it was Mongo and Munch. Jack, Sy, and Mongo got out and grouped around the open window to Munch’s car.

Moments later a van arrived, followed by another car.

Jack saw Munch undo his jacket and wrap his hand around the butt of a pistol stuck in his pants.

“Put it away,” said Sy. “It’s Cocktail in the car. Got a biker with him.”

The van and the car parked and Jack saw a man walk toward them. The man was taller than Jack, but had a thin build. He had a full, neatly cropped beard and a trimmed moustache. His hair was wavy and cut to collar length. He was wearing slacks, black dress shoes, and an open sports-jacket that showed a silk shirt underneath.

Jack glanced at Mongo and saw him slip the pistol under his seat.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” said Cocktail. “Glad that you are all on time.”

“Yeah,” said Sy. “This is my buddy I was telling you about. Jay, this is Cocktail.”

Jack stuck out his hand and Cocktail shook it and smiled. His smile disappeared when he saw there was something in Jack’s other hand.

“What’s in your hand?” he said, stepping back cautiously.

“Oh, sorry,” replied Jack. “Something I twiddle with to pass the time. Never have solved it,” he said, passing the cube to Cocktail.

Cocktail twirled the cube with his fingers and said, “I used to do these in under a minute. Not much challenge, really.” He gave it back to Jack and said, “Keep working on it. You’ll get there some day.”

Jack put it back in his pocket.

Cocktail waved over the two men who’d arrived with him and said, “Okay, gentlemen, the four of you will be frisked by my associates and taken for a ride. No talking until we get there. I hope it goes well tonight and I wish you all good fortune.”

Jack studied the faces of the two men who searched them. Don’t recognize them from any pictures of Satans Wrath. The club must be growing …

Jack, Sy, Mongo, and Munch were subsequently searched, placed in the van, and blindfolded. They were driven for an hour before Jack could tell by the sound of the tires that they had left a paved road and had entered a road that was gravelled and bumpy. Within seconds, the van came to a stop.

The side door on the van slid open and Cocktail said, “Okay, gentlemen, we have arrived. You may take off your blindfolds and get out.”

Jack did as instructed. He saw that they were parked in front of a small barn. The stench of manure hung in the air.

He looked around and saw that behind them there was a farmhouse near the road. Lights were on inside the home, but no other people were visible.

“Where are the bikers?” he asked.

“The others haven’t arrived yet, so I expect there are only a couple out at the road and maybe some in the barn. Which, incidentally, is where we are meeting,” he added, while gesturing toward the barn with a leather attaché case he was holding.

“It stinks here,” said Mongo, while stroking his goatee and looking around.

“Pig farm up the road,” replied Cocktail. “Shall we continue, gentlemen? Time is wasting, although it would appear that we will have a short wait.”

They entered the barn and Jack saw that it was divided in half, with a wall down the centre. A glimpse through a doorway revealed that the far side held a row of empty stalls and stanchions to hold cattle in place. The section of the barn they were in was open in the middle with empty pens on each side. A wooden ladder nailed to a wall led to a hayloft up above.

A room at the far end of the barn locked with a combination lock caught Jack’s attention. It wasn’t the lock that caused his adrenalin to surge. It was the picture of a hamster on the door that told him they were not on mutual territory.

Jack spun around as Balvinder, Fateh, Quang, and Rashard appeared behind them. Balvinder and Rashard each brandished sawed-off shotguns while Fateh and Quang held pistols.

“Cocktail! What —”

Cocktail’s chortle interrupted Sy’s panicked voice. “Sorry guys,” he said, “you didn’t make the honour roll.”

Jack glanced around for a chance to escape. His glance did not go unnoticed. Cocktail’s smile mutated to a sneer. “All of you,” he barked, “lay down on your stomachs and put your hands behind your back!”

They slowly complied, laying face down in a row on the floor.

Jack could taste the dust and particles of hay in his mouth as he lay on the floor. More of it caused his eyes to water, but he hardly noticed as he waited for the inevitable sound of gunfire to announce their executions. I wish I could write a note to Natasha and tell her how much I love her … and to say I’m sorry. Sorry that she will be a mom all on her own. Sorry, too, to my child for not being there …

Quang stuck his pistol in his belt and tied each of the captive’s hands behind their backs with zip ties.

Jack pondered on the use of the zip ties. Why didn’t they shoot us? This is the ideal spot …

Jack’s thoughts were interrupted when Fateh kicked Sy in the face and said, “That is for what you cost me the other morning.”

“Fateh! Wait,” commanded Cocktail. “Stick to the itinerary. You’ll get your chance. Let Quang finish.”

Quang picked up a short length of heavy chain and weaved one end through the bound arms of each of the captives.

“Gentleman, stand up,” ordered Cocktail.

They did as told and the chain was used to bind them shoulder to shoulder in a circle with their backs against a thick support beam that ran from the floor up to the ceiling. The ends of the chain were tightened and padlocked together.

“Listen carefully,” said Cocktail, “you will all die, that is without question. For those of you who are slow to grasp concepts easily, I will give you a moment to accept your fate.”

Jack saw Cocktail smile before whistling part of the tune to The Bridge on the River Kwai. He’s enjoying this, he thought. He recalled the bloody splashes up the back of Gabriel’s house and looked around the barn. Cocktail can do anything to us here ... drag it out for days … try not to focus on the pain. Focus on something else … Natasha … too painful … focus on an object … the picture of Harry the Hamster…

“Okay, gentlemen, your time is up,” said Cocktail, as he strutted around his captives with his hands clasped behind him. “The bad news is that you’re going to die, but the good news is you can decide how. It is all a question of economics. The richer you make us before you die will decide whether your death is quick and painless ... or long and slow. You see, I have listened to most of you brag about how much you’ve made.” Cocktail stopped to stare at Sy and continued, “Brag about how you made a million dollars …” Cocktail shook his head and added, “How very, very foolish you have been.”

“Fuck you,” seethed Mongo. “You’re gonna kill us, anyway. I sure as fuck ain’t payin’ you to do it.”

“Well, thank you, Mongo, for volunteering to go first,” said Cocktail. He nodded to Quang who approached Mongo with a dirty rag to use as a gag.

“Okay, you’re right. You win,” said Mongo, gruffly. “Let me go and I’ll give ya the money. I’m done with this stuff. I give up. Let me go and I’m out of here. Fuck, I’ll even leave B.C. if ya want me to.”

“Of course you would,” said Cocktail, “but you weren’t paying attention. None of you will leave here alive.” A bemused smile crossed Cocktail’s face and he said, “Open your mouth like a good boy. You’ll get a chance to talk later.”

Jack saw the look of rage on Mongo’s face turn to panic as the gag was tied around his mouth. The reason was obvious. Rashard had set the shotgun down and approached with a pitchfork, which he jabbed in the air toward Mongo’s face. At the same time Rashard was joined by Quang who held a barbecue lighter.

“The rest of you watch our first volunteer closely,” said Cocktail, “and decide how best you can spend your money before you die.” Cocktail gestured for Rashard to stand back and said, “Mister Quang, please demonstrate to our audience how painful death can become.”

Quang clicked the lighter. On the third click the flame erupted out the end and he slowly moved the flame under Mongo’s goatee.

Jack heard Mongo scream through the gag and saw the big man’s muscles bulge as he twisted and turned in an effort to get away.

Jack turned away as the smell of burned hair and flesh invaded his nostrils. Beside him he could feel Mongo lurch and twist his body as his muffled cries turned to whimpers.

Without warning, Rashard stabbed Mongo through the arm with the pitchfork, effectively pinning him to the beam. “This will hold the fucker still!”

The action caused the chain to tighten, jerking Jack back as a spray of blood shot out from an artery in Mongo’s arm, hitting Cocktail in the face.

“What have you done?” screamed Cocktail.

Chapter Forty-One

Laura checked her watch and realized only four minutes had passed since she last looked.

“I don’t see what we can do except wait,” replied Connie, watching her.

“You’ve been checking with OCTF? The monitors?”

“Everyone is up to speed. Nothing unusual on the wiretap. OCTF has a room bug someplace where Fateh’s guys are partying. Everything seems normal.”

“Do they normally party on a Sunday night?” asked Laura.

“I guess so. These guys don’t need to show up for work Monday morning.”

“Jack is right about one thing,” said Laura. “Waiting is —”

Connie’s phone rang and she grabbed it.

“Is it Jack?” asked Laura, hopefully, although reason told her that Jack would call her first.

“No, it’s Nicole Purney, one of the monitors,” replied Connie, putting her finger up to her mouth for Laura to be quiet.

Laura saw the blood drain from Connie’s face and her hand trembled as she passed the phone over to Laura. “You better hear what came over the room bug.”

“Play it back for me,” Laura asked into the receiver.

“As I told Connie when she called earlier,” said Nicole, “Fateh’s top guys are partying hard tonight. This just came in. I live monitored it. Here you go.”

Laura strained to hear every sound. She heard laughter and the sound of ice being dropped in glasses. A male voice said, “Our fuckin’ profit margin is gonna go up like a rocket.”

“Yeah, guess tonight we can consider all of the competition buried!” replied another male voice.

“Literally,” said a third person, followed by the sound of laughter.

Laura gasped and said, “I’m coming down there, Nicole,” and hung up.

Connie stared wide-eyed at Laura and said, “Do you think—”

“It was a trap,” replied Laura, getting to her feet. “Jack walked into an ambush.”

“What was said?” asked Sammy.

“Party talk,” mumbled Laura. “Sounds like Jack may already be dead and buried someplace.”

“Jesus, Laura!” replied Connie. “Don’t say that. What can we do?”

“All we can do is wait and listen,” she replied, making no effort to wipe the tears from her face.

“You damned imbecile,” screamed Cocktail leaping back and grabbing a tissue from his pocket to wipe the blood off his face. “What if he has AIDS?” he yelled at Rashard. “You ever think of that?” he continued.

Jack watched as Cocktail rubbed the tissue hard on his face, pausing to inspect it before continuing to rub some more. When he was satisfied he had removed all the blood, he carefully examined his clothing to look for blood.

“I thought you wanted these guys to get good and bloody,” said Rashard.

“Next time warn me so I can stand back,” said Cocktail tersely. He looked at Quang and said, “Enough barbecuing for the moment. Take his gag off and see if he has come to his senses.”

Quang ripped the gag from Mongo’s mouth and stood back as Mongo slumped forward and vomited.

“Enough,” said Jack. “I don’t want to go through this. I bet I’ve got more money than these three guys put together. It’s yours.”

“Interesting,” replied Cocktail. “Where is it?”

“It’s hidden and protected. I’d have to show you.”

“Bullshit! Tell us where it is!”

“It’s in a storage locker.”

“Where’s the key?” asked Cocktail.

“My girlfriend has it. I could call her.”

“That isn’t going to happen. No calls. Tell us which storage locker. You will remain here until we break into it. If you’re telling the truth, your death will be painless and quick. I will leave it to your imagination to figure out what will happen if you are lying.”

“I copied your idea of using an incendiary bomb on a shelf like you do in your labs. I rigged a more complicated and hidden triggering mechanism, though. I would need to show you the carboy to point out exactly how I have incorporated the device that would set it off.”

“He’s lying,” said Balvinder. “He would be afraid of burning his money.”

“Fireproof safe,” said Jack. “There are other documents … names … that I wanted destroyed rather than fall into the hands of certain enemies. The safe I could actually afford to lose, but not the names.”

“Your carboy and layout mimics the setup in the labs?”

“Yes, except I used a mercury switch so that motion will set off a blasting cap to trigger the contents of the carboy. I also installed two tripwires.”

“Mercury switch and two tripwires … I’m impressed,” replied Cocktail. “You are somewhat more sophisticated than your dysfunctional friends.”

Jack shrugged in response.

“So tell me, where exactly are these tripwires?”

“My carboy is in the middle of a shelf above the safe. There are loose boards scattered about that have to be moved to get to either the safe or the cardboard file folder containing my documents. One board has a tripwire to the left of the carboy, no … the right … maybe the left. The one on the floor by the safe is the opposite.”

“Which is it?” demanded Cocktail.

“He’s lyin’,” said Rashard.

“I’m not lying. I’ve seen what you would do to me if I was. Even worse if one of you got hurt getting it. The trouble is, I’m dyslexic. If I was in the room with the carboy I could describe it accurately, but to try and tell you by memory … I’m afraid I would make a mistake. Take me to the locker and I could tell you.”

“You’re not leaving here,” said Cocktail. “Not alive, at least. You said the layout mimics our labs.” He looked at Quang and said, “Take him over to your lab, but leave his hands tied behind his back.” Cocktail looked at Jack and said, “You can verbalize or gesture to us exactly how you have supposedly done this.”

Jack was released from the chain, but his hands remained tied behind his back with the zip-tie. Sy, Mongo, and Munch remained padlocked around the beam.

Quang headed for the locked room and Balvinder grabbed Jack by the arm as they followed.

Jack glanced behind him and saw Rashard aim a pistol at his head. Cocktail followed behind Rashard while Fateh remained with the other prisoners.

Jack stood quietly with his head slumped on his chest as Quang undid the lock and opened the door slightly, before reaching up to pull down the lever.

Jack reacted instantly by kicking Quang in the middle of his back, propelling him into the room, before tumbling to one side as a loud whoosh, accompanied by a huge fireball, engulfed the room.

Quang, a distorted image of a human fireball turned to run and slammed into Balvinder and Rashard. Jack was already on his feet, running to the nearest doorway, which led to the other side of the barn.

“Shoot him! Shoot him!” screamed Cocktail through a fog of smoke and fire.

Jack glanced back and saw Quang and Rashard both rolling on the floor while Balvinder jumped around them yelling for them to roll faster.

Jack burst through the doorway and saw a large sliding door in front of him. It was closed and with his hands tied behind his back, he knew he couldn’t open it in time. He looked at the empty stanchions and a gutter used to collect manure. At the far end of the barn, three planks nailed together made a ramp up to a door made of rough boards.

Jack raced up the ramp and kicked the door. It burst open immediately and he found himself on a ramp leading to a pile of manure. Beyond the pile was an open yard leading to a large hangar-styled building that was open on all sides. At one end of the building was a tractor and a hay baler. Outside the building stood a large, overhead gravity-fed tank of gas.

Jack glanced behind him. Screaming through the smoke and crackling fire told him that Quang was being dragged out the front entrance of the barn. Footsteps pounding through the barn said others were coming his way.

He looked back at the hangar and saw that the rest of building was filled with rows of bales of hay, stacked to roof level. It will take about ten seconds to make it to the hangar. Maybe longer. Can I make it? The hangar has nothing but field around it. No place to run to …

Balvinder and Rashard, with guns in hand, burst out onto the ramp, followed seconds later by Fateh and Cocktail.

“The fucker is hiding in the storage hangar,” yelled Rashard.

Balvinder glanced back inside the barn and said, “What about our three prisoners?”

“Let them burn to death,” replied Cocktail. “Murder will be hard to prove, besides, it was Jay who started the fire, not us.”

“The fucking neighbours are bound to see the fire,” continued Rashard. “We might never find him before the cops and fire department show up.”

“Then torch the hangar, too,” yelled Cocktail. “There’s farm equipment in there, better yet, that’s an overhead gas tank beside the hangar. Use it!”

Moments later, another large whoosh of flame erupted as the hangar, fuelled by gas, turned the building into an inferno.

Jack squirmed out from underneath the plank and peeked over the manure pile. Cocktail, Balvinder, and Rashard were watching different corners of the hangar. Within seconds, all the hay was burning. No living creature could survive inside.

Jack stumbled back into the barn and crouched low as he ran back through the barn. In the dense smoke and heat, he saw Sy, Mongo, and Munch. They had dropped to the ground, fighting and kicking in an unsuccessful attempt to free themselves. Their lungs choked and gasped for air while the roar of the fire sounded like a jet engine screaming around them.

Jack kicked a window and used his foot to hook a piece of shattered glass and pull it inside.

“Jay! Help us!” coughed Sy.

“I will,” replied Jack. “Give me a minute to free myself,” he said, plunking himself down on the floor. He picked up the broken glass with his fingers and feverishly sawed away at the zip tie. Precious seconds ticked past and his fingers became slippery with blood.

“Jay! Look out!” yelled Sy.

Jack saw Cocktail charging at him with a pitchfork as the zip tie broke. He didn’t have time to get up. His eyes met Cocktail and he saw the blind rage.

“You’re dead!” screamed Cocktail.

Jack was sitting cross-legged on the floor. He rested his elbow on his knee with his arm extended upward. Jack’s face and open chest looked like an easy target and Cocktail lunged at it with the pitchfork.

A look of surprise crossed Cocktail’s face when Jack used his arm to knock the pitchfork to one side, while grabbing the wooden shaft with his other hand and giving it a tug as if to pull it from Cocktail’s grasp.

Cocktail responded as most people would. He yanked hard on the pitchfork. It was what Jack had been waiting for. The movement gave Jack the momentum to rise with the pitchfork and propel himself forward, knocking Cocktail to the floor, with himself on top.

Jack punched him viciously five times in the face. Cocktail let go of the pitchfork and Jack pressed the wooden handle across his throat and leaned on it with all his weight.

“Help us,” pleaded Mongo behind him. “We’re burning …”

Cocktail lost consciousness and Jack continued to press down.

“Jay! Come on!” said Sy, barely able to cough out the words.

Jack cursed and scrambled across the floor to the broken window. He grabbed two shards of glass and used one to free Sy. When he did, he said, “Grab the other piece and help me.”

As Mongo and Munch got free, Jack heard Cocktail yell and saw him moving on all fours, like a crab, as he grabbed his attaché case and scurried away, disappearing into the smoke on the far side of the barn. His screams alerted Balvinder, Rashard, and Fateh.

Jack, Sy, Mongo, and Munch ran out the front door. Munch stumbled over Quang’s smouldering body, got to his feet, and followed the others. Jack quickly checked the van they had arrived in … no keys in the ignition. A scream from Balvinder said they had been spotted.

“Run for it!” yelled Jack, while darting for the darkness away from the lights of the farm.

Chapter Forty-Two

Police and fire department crews were on the scene soon after a neighbour reported hearing an explosion and seeing the fire. The fire department soon realized there was nothing they could do to save the barn or the storage hangar behind it. They did discover a burned and unconscious figure lying in the barnyard. Despite third degree burns to half his body, he was still alive and an ambulance rushed him away.

A police officer saw a pickup truck drive into the yard and a man ran over to speak to him.

“I live over there,” he yelled, pointing off to a neighbouring farm.

“You the fellow who reported this?”

“Nope. The sirens woke me up. Then someone stole my flatbed truck and took off in it. I got dressed and came over to tell you. Happened ten or fifteen minutes ago.”

“Did you call it in?”

“No, I could see your flashing lights so I thought maybe you caught the guy.”

“I didn’t see it, but I’ll radio it in.” The officer paused and asked, “Had you left the keys in the ignition?”

“No, of course not. I leave them in the ashtray.”

“Brilliant.”

Laura answered her BlackBerry on the first ring.

“Hi, Princess. Calling to let you know I’m still above ground.”

Laura burst out crying, but Jack continued, “Some bad shit came down tonight. Cocktail went in with Balvinder, Fateh, Rashard, and Quang and tried to set us up.”

“Where are you?” she asked, as the release of tension brought more tears.

“At a gas station on the Number One highway near Clearbrook. I borrowed someone’s truck, but decided to ditch it. I need a ride. Sy, Mongo, and Munch are with me, but they are contacting their own people.”

After Jack gave Laura directions, he hung up and the four men walked a short distance from the gas station to a place they could stand in darkness and wait.

Jack saw the blood dripping from Mongo’s hand and said, “Your arm is going to need medical attention.”

“Fuckin’ tell me about it. That fuckin’ Rashard must have hit an artery. There’s a hospital in Abbotsford. I’ll get my guys to take me there.”

“When the cops locate that flatbed and find your blood in it, they might check the local hospitals. Not to mention, they’re liable to show up there with Quang. You should pick a hospital that’s farther away.”

Mongo nodded his head in agreement and said, “Good thinkin’. Thanks.”

“Let me take a look at it,” said Jack. “I may need to rip your shirt and use it to stop the bleeding.”

Mongo agreed.

Jack tended to his arm and as he worked on it, he said, “It might be in everyone’s best interests to find new places to sleep and lay low for awhile until we sort this out.”

“Lay low!” replied Mongo. “Fuck that! Somehow I’m gonna find Cocktail. He’s the one who set us up. Then I’m gonna take Rashard and —”

“Who is Cocktail?” asked Jack. “What’s his real name?”

Sy, Mongo and Munch each looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders.

“Nobody knows who he really is,” said Sy. “He came to us through Satans Wrath.”

“Speaking of fucking Satans Wrath,” said Munch, looking at Sy and Mongo, “looks like we’re at war with them, too. Better tell our people to start spraying the shit out of those guys.”

“Guess so,” replied Mongo.

Jack swallowed. He knew that as things stood, the risk to every man, woman and child living in the lower mainland would equate to living in a war zone.

He also knew Damien and thought about how tonight’s ambush had been planned. Damien is too professional to get into an all out war with these bunch of losers if he can avoid it. Will attract too much heat … which is why I didn’t recognize the so-called prospects tonight. Damien made himself a buffer of deniability …

Jack thought over his next response. As much as I’d like the bikers to take a few bullets, I can’t risk the possibility of an innocent person getting hurt by mistake. No more thinking required …I have to do what is right …

“Did any of you guys recognize the bikers who searched us tonight when we met Cocktail?” asked Jack.

Sy, Mongo, and Munch shook their heads.

“Before you start shooting up the streets, it might be a good idea to find out if Satans Wrath knew about it,” suggested Jack. “Is it possible that Cocktail and these other guys set it up on their own, hoping to get a bigger slice of the action?”

“Possible,” conceded Munch.

“How the hell do we find out?” asked Sy.

“Simply wait,” replied Jack. “Satans Wrath will make their intentions known soon. They aren’t the types who are known for doing drive-bys or spraying restaurants with bullets.”

“What do you mean?” asked Sy.

“For the next couple of days I suggest you hide,” replied Jack. “Satans Wrath won’t let this sit. They’ll do something soon. You’ve all got enough people working for you that if the bikers are at war with you, some of them will get whacked. If Cocktail did act on his own, Satans Wrath will deal with him.”

“You sound like you know these guys pretty good,” said Munch, suspiciously.

“Satans Wrath? Hell, yes. They’re back east, as well. All over the globe. I know lots of gangs who have had encounters with them.”

“Maybe Jay is right,” said Sy. “Tonight is the first time that two bikers showed up where I didn’t know either one of ’em.”

“I would like to find Cocktail,” said Jack. “After tonight, I owe him one.”

“We all fuckin’ owe him one,” said Mongo.

“Something about Cocktail looked familiar,” said Jack. “I could have seen him at a party someplace or perhaps a restaraunt. I’m not sure, but maybe I could help find out who he is or where he lives.”

“That would be great,” said Sy. “We definitely gotta put that fuckin’ devil in the hole!”

“I get first dibs,” said Mongo, pointing to his arm. “Gonna blow his balls off first and let him crawl around before I gut-shoot him. After that, I’ll put one up his ass. Same for Rashard. You guys can do Balvinder and Fateh. Quang, too, if he ain’t already gook food.”

“Whatever,” replied Jack. “But for now, find a safe place to hide out and we’ll all text each other so the four of us are kept in the loop.”

The Major Crime Unit, housed in Surrey, was normally a thirty-minute drive from where Jack was calling from. Laura arrived in seventeen minutes and drove Jack to Connie’s office so he could give a complete account of what had happened. On the way back, Laura asked Jack for the details. He told her to wait so he wouldn’t have to repeat everything a few minutes later.

As soon as they arrived at the Major Crime Unit, Jack retrieved a couple of bandages from a first aid kit and went to the washroom to attend to the minor cuts on his fingers and wash the manure off his clothes and body. It was Laura’s next clue that something was amiss.

The blood on Jack’s fingers had already started to dry. She was surprised that he even thought of his fingers over the urgency of giving everyone the details of what had occurred. He is taking time to decide what to tell us … and what not to tell us …

Jack had glimpsed the licence plate of the van that drove them to Quang’s farm and Laura checked it while Jack was in the washroom. It turned out to be registered to Quang and she gave Jack the bad news when he returned.

Connie sat behind her desk while Jack, Laura, and Sammy pulled up chairs. Everyone listened quietly as Jack roughly outlined what had transpired. When he finished, he leaned forward and picked up a photo from Connie’s file.

Laura saw that it was a photo of Amanda Flowers, taken in the hospital emergency room shortly after she had been attacked. Jack studied the photograph intently, before gazing off into space as if trying to figure something out … or perhaps make a decision.

“Anything back on Quang’s injuries?” asked Laura, hoping to give her partner more time.

“A member from MCU is at the hospital,” said Connie. “The doctors think Quang will live, although they are worried about infection setting in. It will take years of surgery for him to recover fully. It will be a long, painful process and he’ll still end up with a face that looks like a can of smashed worms.”

“Too bad we couldn’t slap him into a jail cell, too,” said Sammy.

“Or the rest of them for attempted murder,” added Connie. She looked at Jack and said, “Do you want to reconsider? If you could testify it —”

“No,” replied Jack, sharply. “We can’t charge anyone without burning the informant.”

Connie nodded and said, “We still don’t know who Cocktail is. Isn’t there anything you heard or saw tonight to help?”

“I might have his prints,” said Jack, carefully taking the Rubik’s cube from his pocket and placing it on Connie’s desk. “Cocktail handled it tonight.”

“Good going,” replied Connie, reaching for her brief case to find a plastic exhibit bag, “but is there anything else? Even if we get prints, who is to say he has a criminal record?”

Jack stared at the picture of Amanda. Her bloodshot, glassy eyes stared back at him from under a mutilated forehead. His mind went back to when he had last seen her, shortly after being criticized in court for not telling a drug dealer that he was an undercover police officer.

She begged me to keep her out of court. I promised her that justice would be served … and that was before Ngoc Bích called to tell me the judge wouldn’t accept her testimony because she had been a prostitute. Does being raped and enslaved in a brothel make you a prostitute? Personally, I would take the word of most prostitutes over the word of a judge …

“Jack? Did you hear me?” asked Connie. “Is there anything else that would help?”

“I can’t think clearly,” said Jack. “I need time to clear my head. You may as well go home. It will take me another three or four hours to write my UC notes. When I’m finished that, I’d like to review your file again. Maybe something will trigger. If it does, I’ll call you. Otherwise I’m going to go home and sleep.”

“I have notes I need to make, as well,” said Laura.

Connie sighed and pushed her chair back and stood up. She looked at Jack and said, “I want you to know something. You and I have had our differences, but you scared the crap out of me tonight. I was really worried about you. I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

Connie gestured to her desk and said, “Be my guest. We can talk about it again tomorrow. Lock the door when you leave.”

“Sounds like you might have averted an all-out war in the streets,” said Sammy as he stood up to leave.

“Guess the next day or two will tell us that,” replied Jack. He looked at Connie and said, “I bet we find out who he is by Tuesday.”

Connie frowned and said, “That’s only two days away. What makes you think that?”

“Because he screwed up with three major gangs tonight. Between Sy, Mongo, and Munch, surely someone will find him.”

“Make that four gangs,” said Sammy. “You forgot about us. We’re the biggest gang.”

Connie nodded and said, “Cocktail better hope we find him first.”

“For sure,” replied Jack.

As soon as Connie was gone, Jack started flipping through the pages of her file.

“What are you looking for?” asked Laura.

“Clue to a murderer,” replied Jack.

“Think Cocktail’s real name is in there?”

“I can find out who Cocktail is. That’s not who I’m looking for.”

“You’re not looking for Cocktail?” asked Laura in surprise.

“Not at the moment. When we were ambushed tonight, Cocktail made a comment about us not being on his honour roll.”

“He’s a teacher!”

“With what happened to Amanda, I’m guessing he knows her. In the morning I’ll go to the school when classes have started and look through their yearbooks. Bet I find his picture.”

“Why didn’t you tell Connie? You’ve even got her looking for fingerprints. He likely won’t have a record if he’s a teacher.”

Jack looked toward the ceiling as he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He turned to Laura and said, “I want to talk with Amanda Flowers first. She was adamant about not testifying again.”

“We are talking about nailing Cocktail for the murder. That part doesn’t need to involve Amanda.”

“I don’t think Cocktail is our murderer.”

“You what? Not the murderer! He tried to kill you tonight!”

“I mean as far as the priest goes. Tonight, when Mongo got stabbed with the pitchfork, blood sprayed out. A little got on Cocktail and he freaked out. Started cleaning himself immediately. Gave Rashard hell and was worried about getting AIDS.”

Laura thought for a moment and said, “Whoever killed the priest wasn’t afraid of blood. They would have drenched themselves in it.”

“Exactly. I don’t think Cocktail did it. I think he only dragged the body inside to hide it from view while they cleaned out the lab.”

“If it wasn’t the lab rats, then who did it?” asked Laura. “It wasn’t a robbery. He still had on his gold crucifix.”

“Gabriel called me tonight before I met with Sy. You remember she said that Noah’s grades have fallen in the last couple of years … fighting in school?”

Laura nodded.

“Gabriel called to say he lit a neighbour’s fence on fire for no apparent reason. Said he has been throwing temper tantrums one minute and crying over nothing the next.”

“What are you getting at?”

Jack pointed to the file and said, “Read the background that Connie dug up on Father Brown. He was at Kuper Island from 1971 to 1974. You familiar with the history of that place?”

Laura’s face turned grim and she nodded. “Indian residential school where the children were taken from their families in a government project to try and force them into assimilation.”

“You know what happened to those children?”

“Lots of sexual abuse by the priests.… Oh, man. You’re thinking Noah was sexually abused by Father Brown?”

“It’s possible. His behaviour falls in line with post-traumatic stress disorder. Classic symptoms.”

“But he wouldn’t have killed Father Brown. The amount of force … the blood … it would have been discovered in the house.”

“Noah isn’t responsible, but the rage exhibited in the murder makes me think it was someone who knew him. Many people who attended the residential schools never recovered. Drug addiction, suicide … and alcoholism,” said Jack, carefully enunciating the last word.

“One of the winos,” said Laura.

Jack nodded and said, “Connie’s list of winos is in here someplace. I read it before. Some she found by hanging out at the liquor store and talking to people. Others she got from fingerprints off of empty bottles in the area.”

“Connie’s pretty astute at interviewing,” said Laura. “If she talked to the culprit I bet she would have her suspicions. She would have said something.”

“She didn’t find them all. Some were never — here it is,” said Jack, pointing to a list of names, most of which had been stroked off. Two names remained.

“One looks Ukrainian and one aboriginal,” noted Laura.

“She has an alphabetical index with notes on every name. Let’s see what she has done to find them,” said Jack, turning to the index. “Forget the Ukrainian. What does Connie say about the aboriginal … criminal record three pages long … mostly theft … drunk driving … a few assaults … most of these started years ago and are out of Prince George. Last few are local. Connie has contacted social service agencies … shelters … Prince George … this guy’s locale doesn’t fit.”

“So much for that theory,” said Laura.

Jack turned back to the list of names. He flipped the page over and saw one more name at the top of the next page. It was not stroked off. “Take a look,” said Jack, jabbing at the name with his finger. “John-Wayne Charlie.” Jack looked at Laura. He felt no elation at his discovery. If he had been asked to solve the murder of a pedophile he would have declined.

“Charlie is common to the Chemainus, Cowichan, Duncan area north of Victoria,” said Laura. “Next door to Kuper Island.”

“I know.”

Jack checked the index and found that John-Wayne Charlie’s criminal record consisted entirely of offences related to public intoxication. Many of the offences were committed in Duncan.

Jack read Connie’s notes to see what action she had taken to locate John-Wayne. “Connie called Duncan Detachment and a note says someone went to his brother’s place … a guy by the name of Gunnar Charlie. Gunnar said he hadn’t seen his brother in five years.”

“Any other clues as to where he hangs out?” asked Laura.

Jack checked the criminal record again and said, “The funny thing is, John-Wayne’s last conviction for public intoxication in Duncan was only two years ago.”

“His brother gave a flippant response to cover for him.”

“Exactly,” said Jack, grimly. “First thing in the morning I’ll call Gunnar. Let’s see if John-Wayne Charlie has returned home.”

Jack started flipping through the file again and said, “Connie has a photo of Father Brown before he was murdered. I’m going to take it.”

“What will you say to Gunnar when you phone him?”

“I’ll tell him I’m with the Department of Indian and Northern Affairs and say that there is money owed to his brother.”

“That might work.”

Jack had a deeper feeling of depression. One more lie a white man tells an Indian …

Chapter Forty-Three

Jack and Laura waited at Queen Elizabeth Secondary School until the bell announced the start of the first class. Minutes later, they introduced themselves to the secretary who rounded up several copies of school yearbooks from recent years.

It only took Jack a couple of minutes to find a picture of Cocktail taken when he was addressing an assembly. Cocktail was clean shaven in the picture, but Jack had no doubt it was the right man. He nudged Laura and gave her the thumbs-up sign.

“Betty, excuse me,” said Jack, with a smile at the secretary. “Could you tell me who this person is?”

Betty used her feet to propel the castors on her chair over to Jack and Laura. “That is Lyle Ryker,” she said. “He’s no longer with us.”

“His name is familiar,” replied Jack, flipping through his notebook. “I believe your principal, Morris Bloomquist, mentioned him before. Someone popular with the students I understand. Taught math.”

“Yes, he did. He’s the nicest man,” continued Betty. “He organized a humanitarian drive with the students for that big tsunami in Thailand. I was sorry to see him leave after last semester.”

“Where did he go?” asked Jack, not looking up from his notebook as he found the notes he had made earlier.

“He started a humanitarian relief agency that provides medical equipment to hospitals and research facilities in third-world countries.”

“Do you know the name of the company?” asked Jack.

“No, but it is in Vancouver someplace. Lyle is the dearest man. I can definitely assure you that he is not who you are looking for. As a matter of fact, he stopped in about a month ago and dropped off a box of chocolates for me.”

And looked through Amanda’s file …

Whiskey Jake and Lance walked up to Damien’s house as he opened the front door.

“This better be good,” said Damien. “You interrupted my breakfast.”

“There’s something you need to hear,” replied Lance.

Minutes later they strolled through the backyard. Damien’s face darkened when he received the news about what had happened overnight.

“A complete fiasco,” Lance muttered. “These guys aren’t competent enough to tie their own fucking shoelaces.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Damien. “You’re telling me that they were armed and had four guys tied up and still couldn’t kill them! They even let them burn the barn down!”

“And a shed behind,” added Whiskey Jake.

“Fucking Christ!” yelled Damien.

“And let them escape,” said Lance. “Which means they might be looking for revenge.”

“Want to join up with Balvinder, Fateh, Rashard, and Quang and wipe the fuckers out?” asked Whiskey Jake.

“Are you stupid, too?” roared Damien. “There’s no fuckin’ way we’re doin’ business with any of these dumb fucks! I must have been out of my mind to have considered it in the first place.”

“What are we gonna do?” asked Whiskey Jake.

“Grab either Sy, Mongo, or Munch. If you can’t find them, grab someone in their gangs who has some clout. Tell them we found out that Cocktail tried to backstab us. Take whoever that is to see the two dumb shits we sent to help Cocktail. Blow the two dumb shits away as a sign of good faith and give their driver’s licences to whoever you grabbed from The Brotherhood.”

“So they’ll have pictures to show we took care of the right guys,” said Lance.

“Exactly. Mention we’re still looking for Cocktail and let the guy go.”

“What do we do about Cocktail?” asked Lance.

“He’s too valuable to waste. We’ll have to move him. Maybe back east. Tell him to lay low until we set up someone in his company to act as a replacement. After that, we’ll start Cocktail off all over again someplace else.”

Jack called Amanda’s home in Victoria and her mother said that Amanda was doing volunteer work at a senior’s lodge, but would be home by suppertime. “Perfect,” said Jack.

He and Laura caught the eleven o’clock ferry departing from Tsawwassen to Swartz Bay on Vancouver Island. They arrived in the Victoria PD office after lunch and Jack called Connie.

“You just waking up?” asked Connie.

“No, I couldn’t sleep. After talking with you last night, I remembered a comment Cocktail made when we were ambushed about how we weren’t on the honour roll. I figured maybe he is, or was, a teacher.”

“Get down to the school and check it out,” replied Connie. “I’m sure it’s the same school Amanda Flowers taught at.”

“Already did it. Came up with some snapshots in school yearbooks from previous years. Some are of teachers who don’t work there anymore. I’ve got a suspect, but he doesn’t have a beard and the school pictures are grainy.”

“Who’s your suspect?”

“I don’t want to say until I’m positive. If I did pick the wrong photo and sent you to scoop the wrong guy … I mean, in court, that would blow everything … I want to talk to Amanda Flowers first.”

“Where are you?”

“At the Victoria PD office, having coffee with a friend. Laura and I are going to interview Amanda. I think when we do, I’ll know for sure.”

“Why didn’t you call me sooner?” asked Connie suspiciously.

“If I give you his name and you make the arrest, defence may demand that I appear in court. I can’t risk that because of our informant. It won’t be me that tips you.”

“Then who … Christ … Crime Stoppers? That’s not really kosher.”

“Neither is murdering someone or ordering a multiple rape and mutilation. Do you want to find out or not? I won’t jeopardize the informant.”

Connie sighed and said, “You know I want to find out.”

“Good. As soon as we know you will know. I want to talk to Amanda. Cocktail’s order to have the punks slash her face had to be personal. I think when we talk to her and ask her about her relationship with the suspect, it will come together.”

“I should be the one to interview her.”

“She trusts Laura and me. I know she will open up to us. She might not to you.”

“So it’s someone she dated? Maybe a married guy?”

Jack remained silent.

“All I want is for you to identify him, right? It will be me who makes the arrest.”

“Oh, for sure. As I said, we have to stay out of it to protect our informant.”

“Good, as long as we’re clear on that.”

“At that point, as far as I am concerned, Laura and I are finished. It will be up to you. Hope you have him in cuffs before we’re back.”

“Hope so,” said Connie, feeling relieved that Jack was going to let her handle it. “Well quit talking to me and go see her.”

“Unfortunately, we discovered she started a job at a senior’s lodge and won’t be home until suppertime. Her parents say she is still really distraught. I don’t want to bother her at work and cause a scene. We’re going to wait until she gets home. I want her as relaxed as possible. Her own home will help.”

“Yeah, okay,” sighed Connie. “Guess another three or four hours won’t hurt.”

“As long as we’re killing time,” suggested Jack, “I remember reading your file and there were three potential witnesses you never interviewed.”

“What? Those three winos?”

“Yes. As I recall, one of them was originally from the Duncan area. That’s less than an hour away. Want Laura and me to make a few inquiries? Maybe check with relatives and come up with an address or something?”

“I tried before but it wouldn’t hurt to ask again. That would be appreciated. Then I can stroke it off.”

Jack waited patiently as Connie gave him the details about John-Wayne Charlie and said, “We’ll see what we can find out.”

“You’ll let me know as soon as you talk to Amanda.”

“That’s a promise,” said Jack.

“One more thing about Amanda. An hour ago I got a call from the prosecutor handling the case on the three punks who attacked her. Defence is willing to plead to a three-year sentence for each of them to be served in juvenile detention. Ask her what she thinks.”

“Amanda doesn’t want to testify. I know she will go for it, but I’ll still ask.”

An hour later, Jack and Laura parked their car and approached a man who was working under the hood of a car in his driveway. He looked up as they approached and asked, “You from the department? The guy who called me this morning?”

“Yes,” said Jack.

“My brother is around back in a shed. He carves masks. They’re nice. You should buy one.”

“How long has he been doing that?” asked Laura.

“A few months, but he’s good. So how come he is getting some money? I’m his brother, Gunnar. How come I don’t get any?”

“Are you older or younger?” asked Jack.

“I’m two years younger. What’s that got to do with it?”

Jack opened his briefcase and passed Gunnar a picture of Father Brown.

“Evil eye!” said Gunnar. “So that is what this is about.”

“You know him?” asked Jack.

Gunnar nodded and quietly passed the picture back to Jack. “None of us will forget him. His name is Father Brown, but all us kids called him Evil Eye because of the mark on his forehead.” Gunnar looked at Jack and nodded in understanding and said, “So that is why my brother is getting money. It’s for what Evil Eye did to him on Kuper Island.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I’m sorry, but I lied. We are both RCMP officers. I know you tried to protect your brother by lying to one of our members a couple of months ago, so I lied, too.”

Gunnar stared blandly at Jack as he tried to contemplate the logic of the situation. When he spoke, his voice became a whisper. He pointed to the picture and said, “You finally arrested him. You want John-Wayne to testify … he won’t. He won’t talk about it to anyone. Not even me … and I was there.”

Jack and Laura exchanged a glance. Gunnar thought Father Brown was still alive.

“Please, say you can’t find him,” pleaded Gunnar. “My brother has lots of problems. He can’t sleep … he quit drinking four months ago. This will make him start again.”

“Tell me about Evil Eye,” replied Jack.

Gunnar leaned back against the front of the car. His eyes brimmed over and he wiped his face with his hand, leaving a black streak of grease down his cheek. He breathed heavily for a moment and his eyes drifted off into space. Finally he spoke.

“All us kids had to play basketball in a gym. We all had numbers on our shirts. I was about seven and stayed close to John-Wayne because he was my big brother. All you could hear was the sound of the ball bouncing and kids’ feet movin’. Every day Evil Eye would come out from the office above and stand on a balcony and watch us. He would call out a number and the kid with that number had to go up to his office. One day he called mine and John-Wayne traded shirts with me. I never did have to go up there, but we all knew what Evil Eye was doing.”

“We need to talk to your brother alone,” said Jack.

“He won’t talk about it. He’s too ashamed.”

“That’s too bad. I think he’s a hero,” replied Jack.

“He’s my hero.”

“Let us talk to him alone,” replied Jack. “Maybe we can work something out.”

“You know what was real bad?” said Gunnar as Jack and Laura turned to leave.

Jack and Laura shook their heads.

“After Evil Eye called a number, all the rest of us kids were real happy and laughed and played. That still bothers me.”

“Because you knew you were safe for another day,” said Jack.

Gunnar nodded.

Jack and Laura followed a path behind the house that was bordered by wildflowers. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day. Too beautiful, thought Jack, to be going to jail. He stopped and placed a hand on Laura’s shoulders.

“What is it?” she asked.

“We can’t do this,” he replied.

“You son of a bitch.”

Jack’s mouth gaped open. He could not remember the last time he ever heard Laura swear, let alone at him. “You’re angry with me because —”

“Damn right I’m angry with you. Angry that you would even have to ask me.”

They found John-Wayne alone in a shed. He was sitting on a wooden stool, carving a wooden mask that he held between his knees. He looked up when they came in and said, “You want to buy a mask … or are you from the government?”

“We’re with the RCMP,” said Jack. “We’re here because of this guy,” he added, holding out the picture of Father Brown for John-Wayne to take.

John-Wayne refused to take the picture in his hand. Instead, he slowly put the mask and the carving tools on the ground and stood up. His face showed no emotion. “I wondered when you would come for me,” he said, holding his wrists straight out in front of him so he could be handcuffed.

“We’re not handcuffing you,” said Jack. “Put your arms down.”

John-Wayne slowly lowered his arms and said, “I don’t care that I gotta go to jail. I’d smash his head again if I could.”

Jack remembered that Connie had some hold-back evidence. He looked at John-Wayne and asked, “What else did you do to him?”

“I killed him.”

“I know, but besides hitting him with a cement block, what else did you do?”

John-Wayne stood quietly for a moment and shook his head. “I used to drink. Hard to remember.”

“You did something besides hit him on the head,” said Jack. “Close your eyes. Try to remember. What sounds did you hear? Maybe a smell or the feel of something …”

John-Wayne closed his eyes briefly and said, “I stomped him after.”

“Stomped him?” asked Jack.

John-Wayne turned slightly so Laura couldn’t see and pointed to his crotch. “Down there,” he said. “I stomped him a bunch.”

“Did you ever tell anyone about what Father Brown did to you?” asked Laura.

John-Wayne shook his head.

“Or what you did to Father Brown?” asked Jack.

“No. I don’t want to talk about it with nobody.”

Jack looked at Laura and she gave a slight nod of approval.

“There is something I need to tell you,” said Jack. “Please listen carefully. There is no evidence to prove what you did. Possibly a hair, but that could have been blown into the yard or left there by you some other time.”

“But I told you,” said John-Wayne, sounding matter-of-fact. There was no anger or emotion in his voice. He looked at Jack, once more raised his wrists and said simply, “I know you will make me pay for what I have done.”

Pay? You have suffered in silence all these years … you have already paid and will no doubt keep on paying. Jack cleared his throat and said, “I’m sorry, I haven’t been able to hear a word you said so far. How about you, Laura?”

“What did you say?” she asked, cupping a hand to her ear. “I can’t hear a thing. It must be the wind.”

Jack looked at John-Wayne and in a loud voice said, “The person in the photograph we showed you was murdered near an alley that you used to frequent. We came to ask you if you saw or know anything that would help our investigation.”

John-Wayne looked confused.

“Did you watch someone attack Father Brown?”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

“That I heard,” added Laura, dutifully making an entry into her notebook.

John-Wayne slowly lowered his arms. Jack put a hand on his shoulders and said, “Good luck with your life. I think you’re on the right path, but what the hell do I know, I’m white.”

On the drive back to Victoria, Laura turned to Jack and said, “What are we going to do about Noah? He could end up like John-Wayne.”

“I’m going to talk to Victim Services to start with. I don’t need to say anything about John-Wayne. With Father Brown being at Kuper Island and the symptoms that Noah is exhibiting, I think it will be self-evident.”

“Noah may clam up and deny everything.”

“We can be pretty sure that the girly magazines that Gabriel found under his mattress were given to him by Father Brown. If Noah needs prompting, I will tell him that we found Father Brown’s fingerprints all through the magazines. Noah is emotionally distraught. He will open up.”

“And if Connie finds out? What then? She might piece it together like you did.”

“I’ll tell Connie that I suspect Father Brown of being a pedophile because of Noah’s behaviour. It won’t matter. She will still think Cocktail is the murderer, especially after my next phone call to her.”

Jack and Laura went to Amanda’s parents’ house, arriving at the same time she did. She introduced them to her parents, after which Jack said, “Is there someplace we could talk in private?”

Moments later, Jack, Laura, and Amanda were alone in a spare bedroom that had been turned into an office.

“Where are you working?” asked Laura.

“I volunteer to read aloud at a senior’s lodge,” said Amanda.

“The opposite end of the spectrum from teaching childen,” replied Laura.

Amanda pursed her lips and said, “Not really. A lot of the seniors behave like children.” She looked at Jack and said, “You wanted to speak to me in private. What’s up?”

“To start with, the defence lawyers for the three punks who attacked you have offered to have their clients plead guilty with a joint submission for a three-year sentence in juvenile detention. The prosecutor will leave the decision up to you.”

“No decision there,” replied Amanda, looking relieved. “I told you I don’t want to testify. Three years is better than I expected.”

Jack nodded.

“Did you come all the way over here to ask me that?”

“No,” replied Jack. “What can you tell us about Lyle Ryker?”

“Lyle,” said Amanda, sitting back in her chair with surprise. “Well … I was told he used to be a nice guy. The year before I did my practicum at QE, he and his wife lost their first baby to SIDS. I know they went through a rough time and ended up getting divorced.”

“You ever go out with him?”

“No, he’s much older than me.”

“So … never anything between you?” asked Jack.

“Well … he made several passes,” admitted Amanda. “It was getting embarrassing. That was my first teaching job … I wasn’t sure how to handle it and not cause a stink.”

“What did you do?” asked Laura.

“I finally threatened to go to Mr. Bloomquist and complain of sexual harassment. That put a stop to it. When the semester was over, he quit teaching. I think the sight of children bothered him. He never got over losing his baby. When he left, Mrs. Jenkins replaced him as a chemistry teacher.”

“Chemistry?” replied Jack. “Bloomquist said he was replaced as a math teacher.”

“He did that, as well. Many teachers handle more than one subject. Why all the questions about Lyle?”

“He is the person who goes by the name of Cocktail. The one pulling the strings with The Brotherhood. The one responsible for your attack.”

“No!” said Amanda, putting her hand to her mouth. “Oh, no,” she repeated and began to cry.

Jack put his arm around her shoulder to comfort her.

“Are you sure?” she sobbed.

“Positive,” replied Jack. “This is highly confidential, but he set up an ambush and tried to kill four men last night over the war that The Brotherhood are having. The victims escaped, but I happened to be in a position to see Lyle myself. There is no doubt.”

Amanda touched the scars under her bangs and said, “He told them to do this, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“My God,” replied Amanda, slowly regaining her composure. “So he has been arrested … you want me to testify about my past relationship with him? I told you … I won’t go through that again.”

“He hasn’t been arrested yet, but could be soon. The men he tried to kill last night are also looking for him.”

“I hope they find him first.”

Jack nodded and said, “I have to send a text message. Would you mind making us a cup of coffee? We need to talk to you about all the other teachers to ensure that Ryker did not have an accomplice.”

It was several cups of coffee later when Jack received a text message back that read: 666-0. Jack excused himself to send a short message to Natasha.

Connie rolled her eyes when Crime Stoppers called to say they had been given a tip about a man named Lyle Ryker who had confided in the tipster that he had murdered Father Brown. The tipster gave enough details to sound credible.

Jack’s BlackBerry rang immediately. He walked out into the hallway so he could talk in private before answering.

“Hi, Connie, I was about to call you.”

“Really? What on earth for?”

“Uh, to let you know that Laura and I located that wino for you. John-Wayne Charlie.”

“Is that a fact? That is why you were going to call me if I hadn’t called you first?”

“Of course. I’m afraid it’s not good news. John-Wayne doesn’t know anything. Looks like we’ve hit another dead end.”

“Yeah, thanks, I’ll stroke him off my list. Well, goodbye …” Connie didn’t hang up and could hear Jack’s breathing on the other end of the line. She enjoyed making him wait for the news she knew he already possessed. Finally she said, “Oh, I almost forgot the reason I called. There is something I am sure you will be interested in.”

“Oh?”

“Crime Stoppers got a tip that a Lyle Ryker killed Father Brown. Have you ever heard of him? Do you think the tip is genuine?”

“Lyle Ryker … well, I’ll be damned. Did you know that he used to teach chemistry at Queen Elizabeth? Laura and I are having coffee with Amanda. She mentioned she had to threaten Ryker with sexual harassment once. Could explain her vicious attack. Cocktail also resembles the picture in the yearbook, except for the beard.”

“Anything else that would support the, uh, tipster?”

“Ryker owns a company that supplies humanitarian aid.”

“Humanitarian aid? I said, help my investigation, not hinder it.”

“Let me finish. The aid is in the form of medical equipment to hospitals and research facilities in third-world countries.”

“Chemicals and glassware!”

“You got it,” replied Jack. “Do you have an address for him?”

“Yup.”

“Be damned careful,” cautioned Jack. “I saw first-hand how violent he was last night.”

“If he comes to the door with a pitchfork, I’ll double-tap two into his chest,” replied Connie.

“Good. Watch yourself. The guy is a real psycho. Last night he said he was even going to stomp on my nuts after he killed me. Something about making sure I never spawned again.”

“He what?”

“Sorry, I’m talking low. I said —”

“No, I heard you! … Jack! That’s the hold-back information. Cocktail … I mean, Ryker, that’s what he did to Father Brown. He stomped on his crotch after he killed him.”

“Wow. Good going, Connie. You got your murderer. Go get the son of a bitch!”

“I’m on my way.”

“Let me know, will you? Laura and I will stay with Amanda until you call. In fact, my battery is getting low in my cell. I’ll give you Amanda’s number.”

An hour later, Connie called Jack back from the living room of Lyle Ryker’s house.

“You got him?” asked Jack, sounding excited.

“Only pieces of him,” replied Connie, suspiciously.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re too late. Looks like his enemies in The Brotherhood found him first. Murdered about an hour ago. City Homicide were here when we arrived. Someone took off his balls with a 12-gauge. Whoever did it let him crawl across his rug and then took off the top of his head.”

“Guess that’s what happens when you botch the murder of a bunch of thugs. Saves going to court.”

After Connie hung up, Dallas looked at her and said, “Well, at least Jack and Laura were in Victoria when the murder happened.”

“Yeah … hell of a good alibi, isn’t it?”

Epilogue

1. June 11, 2008 — The prime minister of Canada, the Right Honourable Stephen Harper, on behalf of the government of Canada, made a Statement of Apology to former students of Indian Residential Schools.

Further details are available at:

www.ainc-inac.gc.ca/ai/rqpi/apo/index-eng.asp.

2. Faith’s prognosis looks good and she has remained cancer-free for five years. Her brother, Noah, is progressing on an emotional level with continued support from a psychologist who specializes in cases of sexual abuse.

3. December 13 — Jack and Natasha made an announcement. It’s a boy!

chapter one

It was three o’clock in the morning when Special Agent Greg Patton of the United States Customs Service in El Paso, Texas, dropped off his partner at his house. Forty-five minutes later, he arrived home to his own bed.

Even then, Patton couldn’t fall asleep right away. His adrenalin hadn’t settled from the night’s activities. He and his partner had crawled over a fence into a backyard to peer through a window to catch a glimpse of some drug traffickers, only to discover a vicious dog sleeping under a back porch, which awoke and chased them back over the fence.

Would the drug traffickers suspect it was law enforcement agents whose shadows disappeared into the night? Perhaps they would think it was only a couple of the many countless thieves who preferred the cover of darkness.… Another hour passed before Patton fell into a restless sleep.

Patton’s neighbours in the quiet suburb of El Paso, Texas, considered him to be a good neighbour. He was quick to lend a hand and was a man who always had a smile on his face. They knew he worked for customs, but he never wore a uniform. By his ever-changing appearance, from beards to short hair and back to long, they knew his work was likely dangerous.

El Paso is situated directly across the border from Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. Ciudad Juarez, or simply Juarez, as the locals refer to it, is renowned as a hotbed of illegal activity. Drug smuggling by warring drug cartels vying for supremacy over the narco dollar have resulted in a daily body count comprised of criminals and non-criminals alike.

El Paso had become a major point of entry for cocaine smuggled into the United States. Originating in South America, the cocaine was turned over to Mexican drug lords for continued distribution north, including Canada. Along with the drug smuggling came a host of other criminal ventures, such as contract murders of law enforcement officers, gun-running, and human smuggling, to name but a few.

The fact was that Patton’s work was more than dangerous. It was dangerous to the extreme. He worked out of a secret office on a joint task force that included agents from the Federal Bureau of Investigation; the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration; Alcohol, Tobacco Firearms, and Explosives; as well as special agents from the U.S. Customs Service.

There was a good reason why their office location was secret, as were their frequent excursions across the border into Mexico. One U.S. DEA investigator, Special Agent Enrique S. Camarena[1], who had been assigned to work in Mexico, was kidnapped and tortured for two days before his eventual murder. A Mexican pilot who had helped him locate a large marijuana grow operation was also murdered.

The subsequent DEA investigation discovered that the murders were orchestrated with the complicity of the brother to the then Mexican president. It was also learned a doctor had been utilized to keep Camarena alive and conscious to endure his torture for as long as possible before dying.

Corruption of the Mexican government, military, judiciary, and law enforcement agencies had reached a new high. One poll estimated 97 percent of policemen in Mexico were corrupt. Despite the high risk, Greg Patton and his partner, Special Agent John Adams, made frequent trips across the border. Today would be Patton’s last trip.

It was noon when Patton awoke, showered, put on his jockey shorts, and padded barefoot into the kitchen to the smell of fresh coffee and bacon. Becky smiled affectionately and he kissed her and gave her a warm embrace.

Stepping back, he gestured to Billy and Samantha, who were yelling and chasing each other in the backyard with a garden hose. “Isn’t today Friday?” he asked.

“Yes, but school is out this week. They only have to go in if they are writing exams.”

“I see.”

“Sorry, I knew you were late coming in. I tried to keep them quiet for as long as I could, but —”

“It’s okay,” he smiled, while giving Becky a pat on her backside. “It was time to get up, anyway. I have to go back to work in an hour. Have they had lunch yet? It would be nice to eat together before I go.”

It was an hour later when Patton started the Honda Civic and backed out of his driveway, pausing only to wave at his family before heading off. His car, which was dented and scraped, did not look like it belonged to a law enforcement agency. In fact, it used to belong to a drug trafficker, but U.S. law allowed forfeiture of seizures by authorities to be used by the law enforcement agencies who seized them. It allowed for a large assortment of covert vehicles to be used by the investigators. The only downside was there was not a budget to go along with each vehicle to keep it properly maintained and repaired.

Normally Patton would have been required to drop the car off at the office for the night, but due to the late circumstances … and the fact the Honda Civic wasn’t exactly a prized car in the office, he had driven it home.

He realized he was slightly ahead of schedule to pick up Adams and decided to take a slight detour and drive past the house with the dog. There was little doubt it was being used by drug runners. Intermittent surveillance had shown up to a dozen different muscle cars with jacked-up rear ends and custom-built hood exhausts parked in the driveway. Low-life punks, but who controls them?

Most of the cars had Mexican plates, which made it difficult to identify who was driving. Any inquiries to Mexican authorities would either return as being plates owned by someone else, or, if the dealers were connected to a drug cartel, then the cartel would be notified of the investigator’s interest. Often it was only through the use of surveillance, photographs, and facial recognition that the framework of the drug cartels was identified.

Patton’s excitement grew as he drove past the house. Parked in the driveway was a new Mercedes. It was painted emerald green with dark tinted windows. Tinted windows were common in the area to help keep the heat out, but it also made it difficult to identify who was driving. Patton slowed as he went past. It had a Mexican plate, but it was still worth copying down.

He then drove to the end of the block and parked where he could still see the Mercedes, but wondered if he should risk leaving to go get Adams. Would it still be there when they returned? The decision was made for him when the car backed out of the driveway and headed off in the opposite direction.

Patton followed, trying to keep his distance. Unlike in Hollywood movies, a one-car surveillance seldom went undetected. Today, however, the Mercedes ventured out onto a well-travelled road where the presence of other cars gave him cover. Soon he found himself on the Bridge of the Americas, crossing over into Juarez. His was the second car behind the Mercedes and he was glad the Mexican customs agent treated him like the others, with a lackadaisical wave of his hand to allow him entry.

The afternoon traffic in Juarez was heavy. It slowed the Mercedes while continuing to provide other cars for cover. The only disadvantage was the possibility of being left behind at a red light.

When the Mercedes stopped at a red light, three car lengths in front of him, Patton took the opportunity to call Adams. Unfortunately, like most people on surveillance, his attention was focused on who he was following … and not on who might be following him.

Adams picked up when Patton rang and he quickly updated his partner on the situation. Adams wasn’t overly concerned his partner was in Juarez. They were short-staffed and often ventured into Mexico alone. Sometimes it was even safer. One man in a car looked a lot less like a police officer than two men did. Especially two men who were in their thirties, physically fit, and not looking or acting like gawking tourists who had left their brains at home.

There was something else that marked them as law enforcement officers, although neither was aware of it. They both dressed casually and believed their infrequent shaving routine made them less conspicuous. Perhaps it did, but neither man was a trained undercover operative. Like most officers with police training, they portrayed a degree of self-confidence. Coupled with a strong Alpha-male attitude, it tended to make them stand out for who they really were.

It was one of the first lessons Adams would later learn when he worked with such an operative. There are times to act aggressive and times not to. Instinctively knowing when to do which could be a matter of life or death.

“Okay, we’re moving again and he’s turned down a side street,” said Patton. “I’ll call you back when I’m done and let you know when I can pick you up.”

“Sounds good. Don’t take any —”

“Shit, looks like I got company,” said Patton, his voice going up an octave. “A black-and-white tucked in behind me and one of their crew cab pickups is coming up alongside. The cop driving is really giving me the hairy eyeball.”

“Forget the Mercedes and get the hell out of there!” urged Adams.

“You don’t have to tell — fuck!”

Adams heard the sound of crunching metal and Patton’s high-pitched yell. “I got rammed into a row of parked cars! I … I —”

“Don’t stop!” screamed Adams. “Step on it! Get outta there and run for the border!”

“Can’t! I’m blocked in!” came the frantic reply. “Fuck, here they come. They got their automatics out!”

“Don’t hang up! Can you get one of their plates?”

In response, all Adams heard was the sounds of men shouting, followed by breaking glass and Patton screaming in pain before the phone went dead.

[1] The DEA investigation into the torture and murder of Special Agent Enrique S. Camarena was the most in depth and longest-running investigation in DEA history.

chapter two

On Friday afternoon in Chilliwack, British Columbia, Jack Taggart rose from his chair in the front row of the high school auditorium and clapped when Marcie finished giving her valedictorian speech. Beside him, Natasha, holding their seven-month-old baby, Michael, also rose. On his other side, Jack’s sister, Liz, and his brother-in-law, Ben, also stood, clapping loudly.

Jack was proud of Marcie. She was still only seventeen years old, but was graduating from grade twelve with top honours.

Marcie had not had an easy life. Jack was a trained undercover operative for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police who was assigned to an Intelligence Unit targeting organized crime. Marcie was twelve years old when Jack rescued her from a life of drugs and prostitution. Half the credit to her success, he believed, went to Liz and Ben, who officially adopted her at that time.

The other half went to Marcie. She was intuitive, intelligent, and a hard worker. Her plans were to go to university and become a child-protection worker. Not an easy job, but one she had her heart set on. She was a caring person and, given her challenging background, he knew she would make a good one.

Jack thought she gave an excellent speech, but could see there was something else on her mind. Part way through her delivery, some late arrivals came into the gymnasium. He saw the optimistic look on her face, followed by disappointment as she continued to talk.

She’s worried and it’s not stage fright. Someone didn’t show up…

As the audience sat back down, he locked eyes with Marcie. She was smiling, but he could tell it was not sincere. Jack quit smiling at her and raised one eyebrow. What’s up?

Marcie’s smile disappeared. She gave him a slight nod.

During a break in the ceremonies, Marcie took him aside and the words spilled out of her.

“My friend … Lily, she’s not here tonight!” said Marcie.

“Who is Lily?”

“I told you. She’s my friend. Lily Rae. She should have been here! We were supposed to graduate together!”

“Maybe her car broke down or something.”

“No! You don’t understand. I haven’t seen her for over two weeks.”

“Have you called her home? What about her parents or family?” asked Jack.

“She only has her mom. She never knew her father and doesn’t have any brothers or sisters. Her mom called me this morning. She hasn’t seen her, either. Lily told her she was going away with her boyfriend for a couple of days, but that was a week ago. Her mom tried to call her on her cell, but turns out Lily had left it at home.”

“Intentionally?”

“I don’t think so. Since meeting this guy she is always forgetting stuff. I mentioned it to her once and she just got all dreamy-eyed and said I would also be that way when I fell in love. Both her mom and me figured she would be back before today. She was really excited about the graduation. We had made plans to be together tonight. Well, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Lily and I had a fight a month ago,” confessed Marcie. “We haven’t talked to each other since. Still, I thought we would make up tonight and be friends again.”

“What was the fight about?”

“It was my fault.” Marcie sighed. “I should have kept my yap shut. I told her I didn’t like her new boyfriend. She said I was jealous because I don’t have a boyfriend. I said no way. I don’t trust the guy. There’s somethin’ not right about him. I think he’s a player.”

“A player? As in dealing dope or into gangs?”

“Well … I’m not sure. She only met him about three months ago. His name is Earl Porter. He’s like, thirty years old. She told me they’re in love. I met him a couple of times when he picked her up at school. He drives a black Mustang convertible and comes across as a real charmer. Real slick. Lily mentioned he likes to gamble and throw money around. That’s when I told her I didn’t trust him.”

“Sounds like Lily should know better.”

“She said he’s rich because his parents died in a car accident and he got a lot of insurance money. Maybe he did. I don’t know.”

“Is Lily into the dope scene or hanging out with gangsters?”

“No way.” Marcie shook her head vehemently. “She wouldn’t have been my friend if she was. She’s really straight. Doesn’t even smoke pot.”

“What? Do you?”

“Hell no! Come on, Uncle Jack! Are you kidding? After what I’ve been through I won’t even take a sip of wine because I’m scared I’ll end up back on the spike. I like to be in control of my body and my mind.”

“So why is Lily hanging around some guy who is a dozen years older? He sounds like a loser.”

“The thing is, Lily will believe anything a guy tells her if he gives her a little attention.”

“A lot of teenage girls are like that,” Jack remarked.

“Yeah, but I think she’s more needy than most. The only real family she has is her mom. Even that is not good. Her mom was in a car accident four years ago and has been in a wheelchair ever since.”

“Sounds like Lily has had to grow up fast.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t been easy on either of them. Her mom is in chronic pain. Lily told me she thinks her mom is addicted to prescription drugs. Since the accident, Lily has been more of a mother to her mom than her mom has been to her. Don’t get me wrong, her mom’s a real nice lady, but, well, you know, sometimes life sucks.” Marcie shrugged.

“Does Lily have any history of running away from home?”

Marcie frowned. “Yeah, about two years ago, but even then she came back after a couple of days.”

“Where did she go then?” Jack asked.

“She spent two nights sleeping in someone’s barn. I didn’t know her then, but I think she was stressed out over looking after her mom all the time and going to school. The two of them had a fight over what she wanted to wear to school. Lily told me she was really embarrassed about it and would never do it again.”

“Maybe she did run away again,” mused Jack.

“No way. This is different.” Marcie shook her head again, her mouth set in a grim line. “There’s something wrong. She should have been here tonight. Even if she is still angry with me, this grad was a big deal for her. She talked a lot about it.”

“What’s her mom doing about it?”

“She was upset when she called me and said she was going to report her missing. But I’m worried. The police will hear she ran away before … you know how that goes. I bet they don’t exactly bust their asses looking for her. I was hoping you could check out her boyfriend or something.”

Jack nodded. “I’ll look into it. Does she have her own car?”

“No. I was always giving her a ride until she met Earl.”

“Is there anything else?”

Marcie took a picture out of her purse and handed it to Jack. “This is her. I scanned it and printed it on my computer so I don’t need it back. Thought maybe you might need it if … if … like if there was an unidentified body in a morgue or —”

“You’re jumping to conclusions,” said Jack, looking at the picture of a pretty girl with long red hair. “Does she always wear that gold stud earring?”

“The earrings change, but she always wears a pendant. You can’t see it in the picture because of her blouse, but she never takes it off. It’s a little silver frog with ruby-red eyes to match her hair.” A small smile crossed Marcie’s face and she added, “Sometimes I would tease her and call her froggy …” Marcie looked at Jack and quickly added, “But not in front of anyone! It wasn’t being mean. I just —”

“It’s okay. Sounds to me like you’re still her friend … and friends sometimes have arguments,” said Jack reassuringly. “Bet she gets over it. In the meantime, I’ll check out Porter and see what he has to say.”

“I don’t even have his number. Neither does Lily’s mom.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find him. I bet she shows up, too. Maybe they eloped or something.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

“Give me a couple of days and I’ll get back to you, but if you hear from her, let me know right away.”

“I will.”

“Now … I want you to enjoy yourself,” said Jack with mock sternness. “Go out tonight and have fun. You’ve earned it.”

Greg Patton lay with his face mashed into the floor mat behind the driver’s seat of the Mexican police crew-cab truck. His gun, badge, and wallet had been taken from him before he was propelled into the vehicle. One policeman pinned him to the floor with a knee on his back. Patton felt the muzzle of a pistol digging into the base of his skull. He remained still and hoped the gun wasn’t cocked to prevent an accidental discharge as the truck sped through the streets.

When they arrived at their destination, Patton was dragged out of the truck and brought into a small police station. For a moment, being in a station gave him some hope. Better than being made to kneel before a shallow grave in the desert …

Even when six officers shoved and manhandled him into an empty cellblock in the rear of the station, he was still hopeful. Perhaps they plan to lock me up for a while. Put the fear of god into me before letting me go …

Patton was more concerned when he was forced to strip completely naked. Okay, guys, you’ve humiliated me. Yeah I’ve got a small dick. Everyone have a good laugh and then let me go …

What followed wasn’t laughter. It was the faces of determined, angry men as they handcuffed him spread-eagled to the bars of a cell. Next, a pail of water doused his naked body.

Patton looked at the face of a man who approached him with an electric cattle prod and closed his eyes. Briefly, he thought of Enrique Camarena and the horror he endured before he died.

“Special Agent Patton of the big American customs, how are you?” asked a voice with a heavy Spanish accent.

Patton opened his eyes and saw a man in a police captain’s uniform smiling at him.

“What do you want?” asked Patton.

The captain gave a curt nod and the man with the cattle prod stepped forward. For a moment, Patton felt like someone had used a sledge hammer to drive his nuts up into his stomach. His head jerked back, hitting the bars and his jaw snapped shut, biting his tongue, before emitting a bloody scream.

“What I want, Special American Agent Patton, is to kill you in the most painful way possible. But … before you die, there are some things we want to know. Things like what are the names of the people you work with? Their addresses … what cars they drive. The names of their wives and children. The names of your wife and children. What schools they attend.”

chapter three

John Adams sprung into action as soon as Patton’s phone went dead. His first call was to notify his office. Did they have any investigators in Juarez at the moment? It turned out that four FBI agents from the downtown office were in one car returning from interviewing a jail warden at a Mexican prison. They were still in Juarez and would cover off one of the main routes through the city in the hopes of spotting the kidnappers.

Adams ruefully thought about the four agents travelling together for safety reasons. He and Patton often took a chance on going it alone. Now it was coming back to bite them in the ass. His next move was to yell for his wife, Yolanda, who was outside watering plants on their deck.

Yolanda was born in Mexico, but her father was a chemical engineer and they immigrated to the United States when she was a teenager. There was a happy innocence about her face that Adams adored. She had a certain look and smile like she was waiting for him to crack his next joke. That look vanished when Adams said, “I need you to call your lover. Make it urgent.”

Adams was going to tell her they had grabbed Patton on the other side, but decided not to. The four of them were good friends and he was concerned the stress would show in her voice. He would tell her after.

It wasn’t the first time Yolanda had called this man. John had explained to her that the phone calls were likely being monitored. Any suspicion on the part of those listening would have a deadly impact on the man she was calling … and perhaps on her husband, as well.

Police Commander Jose Refugio Rubalcava sat behind the large wooden desk in his office. The desk was scarred up and had more than one bullet hole in it. At one time it had been varnished, but most of that had long since disappeared, leaving it to absorb a variety of stains.

Leaning against the wall behind him and within easy reach were an assortment of loaded shotguns, rifles, and automatic weapons. On the top of his desk were four pistols. Theoretically, the weapons were for him to sign out to his men. In reality, Rubalcava often wondered if he would be able to grab them in time to save himself from his men.

Rubalcava had ample cause to be worried. He was trying to be an honest cop. A very dangerous thing to be in Juarez, considering his six predecessors had all been murdered at the same desk he was sitting at. Rubalcava knew that many, if not all the murders, had been committed by policemen who still worked at his station.[1]

The choice given his predecessors was simple: plata o plomo — silver or lead. Six had bravely chosen not to accept the bribes. Their bravery had done nothing to thwart the ever-increasing control the drug cartels were spreading across Mexico and North America.

Rubalcava was trying a different approach. On occasion he knew he had to accept the silver to stay alive … or at least appear to keep the money. Local charities had done well from his kindness.

Rubalcava’s position did not demand that he wear a uniform, so he tended to dress casually with grey slacks and a short-sleeved shirt open at the neck. Today his shirt was a light charcoal colour that matched his hair. His wife said it made him look handsome.

Rubalcava knew better. At one time he was considered handsome, but the constant worry had caused him to look much older than he really was. His hair was prematurely greying and deep crevices cut through the dark sacks of skin below his eyes. His eyes once held sparkle and were quick to smile, but in the last few years they had found little to smile about.

From the outer office, Rubalcava heard a ripple of excited, gleeful whispers spread amongst his men. Something was going on, but he decided to ignore it. He knew he was not completely trusted. Rumours persisted that he talked to the Americans too much.

Police commanders were in a position where it was expected that they might talk to the Americans on occasion. The drug lords actually welcomed it as a way of finding out what the Americans were up to. The information Rubalcava obtained for the cartels, however, was usually insignificant or too long after the fact to be of benefit. When confronted about this, Rubalcava said perhaps the Americans did not trust him, either.

There was another small commotion in the outer office and he decided to take a look. This time the voices were not whispers. One of his men, Detective Sanchez, had given the secretary a gift. She had always ignored his advances before, but appeared delighted with the small silver frog pendant dangling from a chain. The frog’s red eyes matched her lipstick.

Rubalcava forced a smile and tried to look pleased with the happy atmosphere. I wonder who was robbed or killed in order for him to give that gift? He saw Sanchez eyeing him and their eyes met briefly. Sanchez smirked and turned his attention back to the secretary. He knows what I am thinking …

Sanchez was protected by a drug cartel headed by Rafael Aguilar Guajardo. It was the top drug cartel in the region, although their supremacy was being hotly contested by the rival Sinaloa cartel.

The Sinaloa cartel was originally based out of the Mexican states of Baja, Sinaloa, Durango, Sonora, and Chihuahua, but had expanded operations and as of late had been encroaching on territory long held by the Guajardo cartel. At the present time, the Guajardo cartel still remained firmly in control of most of Juarez and Sanchez knew he had nothing to fear from his commander.

Rubalcava casually scanned the office again. The excitement and whispers I heard earlier are not over a stolen pendant. Something else has happened … His thoughts were interrupted when his telephone rang and he went back to his office to answer it.

He immediately recognized the sexy voice asking to meet him again. Her husband had stepped out. They only had a few minutes of precious time before he would return. Rubalcava agreed and hung up the phone. I wonder what John Adams’s wife really looks like …

[1] As shocking and unbelievable as it may seem, nothing in this paragraph is fiction.

chapter four

It was late Friday afternoon when Jack arrived home and called the RCMP Telecommunications Centre to check Earl Porter’s name on the Canadian Police Information Centre’s computer. The CPIC query did not show any criminal record, but a notation did come back to say he was of interest to the Vancouver RCMP Drug Section.

Jack’s next call was to Sammy in Drug Section.

“Porter, yeah, he used to be of interest to us,” replied Sammy. “Not now, somebody must have forgotten to remove him from CPIC.”

“What’s the scoop?” asked Jack.

“Two years ago, Porter came up as a close associate of a guy who was our main target in an undercover operation. A fellow named Clive Slater.”

“What’s the story on Slater?”

“He’s a real pompous ass who likes to throw his money around in the night-club circuit. He drives a red Ferrari 430 F1 Spider and tries to act like he is a mafia don or something. We had a snitch who told us Porter and Slater were involved in coke in a big way.”

“Do you still have the snitch?”

“No. Last I heard the snitch is in jail in Ontario,” said Sammy. “He wasn’t deemed to be all that reliable, anyway. He was one of those types of guys who just suspects something, but then relays it as fact.”

“How did your investigation end up?” asked Jack.

“Well, at the time we did some checking and it turned out Porter and Slater had business connections in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. Porter owned a company that made tourist trinkets and Slater was involved in a fruit company. We had our liaison officer out of Mexico City make some inquiries for us. According to the Mexican police, the companies are legit, but the LO said the police are so corrupt down there that you have to take everything they tell you with a grain of salt.”

“Sounds like the companies might be used for laundering money,” said Jack.

“Could be, but neither of them have ever been caught with any coke.”

“Maybe they’re the financiers?”

“There’s always that possibility,” Sammy agreed. “We tried to snare them both in a UC operation, but Slater was too smart. Our undercover operator spent three months befriending him. Then he was with Slater in a nightclub one night and Slater, being the asshole he is, laughed and said he appreciated the RCMP buying him all these drinks.”

“Who was the operator?”

“Ken Hales, out of Calgary.”

“I’ve worked with him. He’s a hell of a good operator,” Jack commented.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Maybe the Mexicans tipped Slater off after the LO made inquiries.”

“Possibly.”

“No problem then if I take a look at Porter and perhaps Slater?” asked Jack.

“Fill your boots,” replied Sammy. “Neither are on our target list. Like I said, someone forgot to remove them from CPIC. We’ve had to reprioritize. Known gang members who are killing each other off are our number-one concern.”

Adams crossed the Bridge of the Americas and was waved through customs. He had not bothered to go to the office and get a car, instead opting to use his own car. Time was of the essence. He had little hope that his office, currently going through channels with the American ambassador in Mexico City, would have any luck in getting Patton back alive.

The four FBI agents had agreed to stay in Juarez to assist … providing assistance was still possible. That hope lay in the person Adams was going to meet.

Adams cursed and glanced at his watch. The minutes were ticking past and he accelerated along cluttered narrow streets to get to one particular back alley.

chapter five

Rubalcava saw the questioning glances of his men as he hurried to leave the office. As a commander, he was normally at his desk all day, except for three o’clock in the afternoon, when he went to pick his children up from school. Picking them up was more than a safety issue. Seeing the bright happy faces of his two sons gave him hope. Hope that someday the future of the Mexican people would also brighten. He had sworn he would do what he could to make that possible.

“Commander?” the secretary asked, while glancing at her watch. “It is only two o’clock.”

“I know. I have to meet an old friend,” he replied.

Like Adams, Rubalcava drove at high speed with a constant eye in his rear-view mirror. Even though he was satisfied he wasn’t being followed, he still parked his car two blocks away from his destination. From there he cautiously made his way toward the alley on foot, while still taking the time to dart into a couple of shops along the way to see who might enter behind him.

Rubalcava knew if he were seen secretly meeting a gringo there would be serious questions. If the gringo was identified as a U.S. Customs agent, he knew any lie he could come up with would likely not be accepted and would result in his execution. He also knew Adams realized the danger. What has happened?

Adams sat low in his seat as he slowly drove down the alley in his white Celica. His windshield was tinted, making it difficult for people to see in, but the other windows were clear. There were few gringos in this part of the city, but it was also an area not known to be of interest to the cartels. Rubalcava stepped out from an alcove and Adams unlocked the passenger door.

“Amigo,” said Rubalcava with a worried smile on his face as he got in the car. “It is always good to see you.” As usual, Rubalcava made no comment about the extreme risk in which Adams had placed him and instead treated their meeting like a friend who was happy to see him.

Adams didn’t take the time to exchange niceties. The words tumbled out of him as if he were an auctioneer.

Rubalcava’s face darkened. “This house, with the Mercedes that your partner followed. Which cartel did they belong to? Guajardo or Sinaloa?”

“I don’t know. We were still trying to find out. An anonymous phone call complained of lots of men coming and going at all hours of the day and night. Lots of souped-up cars being driven by Mexicans who look like gangsters. Greg and I spent the last couple of nights trying to identify who they were.”

“I do not have much that could help you if it was the Sinaloa cartel, but if it was the Guajardo … it could explain why some men in my office were whispering and smiling about something an hour ago.”

Adams checked his watch. “It was an hour and twenty-five minutes ago when Greg was grabbed. Maybe they heard the news. It fits. Would Rafael Guajardo be directly involved? If we locate him —”

“No, he would not risk being involved. Besides, Guajardo has been meeting some other drug lords in Cancun this last week. He has not returned yet and may not even know about it. The two jackals he left in charge, Vicente Carrillo Fuentes or his brother, Amado Carrillo Fuentes, could have okayed and planned the kidnapping on their own. Even then, they would have turned it over to someone else to complete. Do you know what colour the Mercedes is?”

“Green. Why?”

“Now it is coming together in my mind. Below the Carrillo Fuentes brothers, there are three lower bosses, who also happen to be brothers. One of them, a big fat man by the name of Chico, drives a green Mercedes. Chico controls much of the prostitution and collects money from the pimps who work for him. He often goes into El Paso to collect money from pimps who operate out of some strip bar. The Red something.”

“The Red Poker Saloon?” asked Adams.

“Yes, that is it. You know the place?”

“I’ve been there. It’s full of pimps, drug dealers, bikers, you get the picture. Does Chico control a particular police station here in Juarez?”

“Not him, directly … but of course the Guajardo cartel controls many,” replied Rubalcava.

“Do you think the police who grabbed Greg would take him back to their station?”

“Possibly. If they don’t intend to keep him alive long they might take him there. If they plan on torturing him over a period of a few days they would take him to some place more remote. Probably outside the city.”

Adams winced. “What police station would you suspect the most?”

“If he was taken to a police station, I think it would be one of two. Both are small and in outlying areas. The captains in both stations, along with their men, are firmly in the pockets of the Guajardo cartel.”

“I’ve got a map of Juarez in the glove box. Dig it out and show me where the stations are.”

Rubalcava spoke as he unfolded the map. “The first station is on the northwest side of the city. The police at that station specialize in kidnapping people for ransom. I believe there are about two-dozen policemen who work out of that office.”

“So they are experienced at snatching people,” noted Adams. “Sounds like it could be them.”

“Perhaps … although they do not use marked police vehicles when they kidnap. The captain there is very short with a pockmarked face.”

“He’ll have more than pockmarks on his face if he is responsible,” said Adams tersely, patting the Heckler & Koch P2000 semi-automatic pistol tucked in the holster on his belt.

“The other station is on the southeast side,” continued Rubalcava. “I believe there are about seventeen officers who work out of that station.”

“If we find him, will you get any heat over how we knew where he was?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. Lots of policemen will know about it. Any one of them may have talked.”

“Thanks, my friend,” said Adams.

“I am sorry I cannot help you further.”

“I already have backup on this side of the border. Four FBI agents.”

“That is not many.”

“It’s not like we have the time … or the authority. I don’t even know how far these FBI guys will go. They’re feds. I can’t count on them to break the rules.”

“Then I wish you luck. If you find him and somehow rescue him, do not use the border crossings going back. They will be waiting for you.”

“Thanks. If we manage to retrieve him, I know several places the illegals use. We’ll use one of them.”

“Now you must hurry. If he is at one of the stations and is still alive, he will not be for long.”

“Let’s hope he is only being held to inconvenience him,” offered Adams.

“No, my friend,” replied Rubalcava sadly, giving Adams’s shoulder a sympathetic squeeze. “If that was simply the case, the men in my office would not even have been told … let alone be as pleased as they are.”

Adams called the four FBI agents. One of them, Antonio, was of Mexican heritage and suggested if he took off his suit jacket and tie, he might be able to blend in enough to do some close-up reconnaissance. The decision of what to do was given to Adams, as Patton was his partner.

The FBI agents were still in the heart of Juarez and with the amount of traffic it would take them about an hour to check out the police station in the southeast. Adams was about forty-five minutes away from the northwest station and an hour and a half away from the southeast station. He decided to send the four FBI agents to the southeast station while he headed in the opposite direction.

During the forty-five-minute drive, Adams thought of what he would do if he believed his partner was inside. Adams had been trained by the United States military as a Special Forces commando and was an expert marksman with a variety of weapons. His talent in that regard was still used. He was a reservist and was occasionally called upon for brief missions.

Adams’s plan was simple. If Greg is there I’ll bust in and take him out … the Mexicans are lousy shots, anyway …

When Adams arrived, he drove past the station and saw it had its front door propped open. People casually visited with one another near the entrance while citizens were coming and going out of the building.

He’s not here!

Adams gritted his jaw, determined to fight back the tears of frustration as he spun his car around and raced back across the city to the southeast section.

Antonio walked down the block toward the southeast police station, his eyes taking in the situation all the while. A woman ahead of him tried to open the front door of the station and found it was locked. She peered in through the window, then quickly stepped back and hurried off down the sidewalk.

When Antonio reached the station he knew why the woman had left in a rush. From within the station he heard the terrified scream of a man in agony pleading for his life … in English.

Antonio hurried back to the car to report his findings. Adams was still over an hour away and three hours had passed since Patton was captured. The four FBI agents decided not to wait. They also knew what they were about to do was illegal and could cost them their jobs … if they lived to have a job.

Antonio returned and pounded on the door of the police station with his fists. A voice from within told him to go away and come back later. Antonio persisted and yelled that his wife had been raped. Again, he was told to come back later. Antonio continued to pound and when his fist cracked the glass, a policeman cursed and came with a billy club in his hand and jerked the door open.

Antonio’s response was to stick his gun in the policeman’s face while putting one finger to his lips as a signal not to talk. The other three agents rushed past Antonio toward a doorway leading into the holding-cell area. Before they could make it, another policeman appeared in the doorway and yelled to warn the others.

Pandemonium broke out as the agents raced inside. Three of the six policemen in the holding-cell area had time to fumble their pistols out of their holsters, but hesitated to shoot when they saw that the agents had already taken specific aim at them.

A barrage of screaming ensued before the Mexican policemen backed up a little, leaving Patton hanging like a naked wet rag doll on the side of the cell.

Patton was left where he was until the seventh policeman was ushered into the holding area by Antonio. Antonio and another agent used their own keys to remove the handcuffs from Patton, whose legs buckled beneath him as he was laid on the floor.

Antonio ran out to retrieve the car while the other three agents remained with their weapons pointed at the policemen. The sound of screeching tires announced Antonio’s return, seconds before he ran back inside.

There was more yelling amongst the agents and the Mexicans, who were still pointing their weapons at each other. The agents tried to order the Mexicans into the cell, but they refused. Finally, one of the agents grabbed Patton’s pants off the floor, and, along with another agent, lifted the injured man by the shoulders and dragged him out of the room.

“The first person to follow us outside will be shot,” warned Antonio, as he and the remaining agent slowly backed out.

From the front door of the police station, Patton uttered his first words. “The notebook!” he blubbered. “Get the notebook!”

His comments were ignored as he was rushed from the station and tossed into the car.

Seconds later, the squealing of tires told the Mexican policemen it was safe and they ran out onto the street. By then, the agents had already turned a corner and sped out of sight.

Adams received a call a minute later. Jubilation was slightly tempered. They knew every policeman in the city would be made aware of their escape. Trumped-up charges would follow. Charges that would be hard to refute once you were dead.

“They’ll have machine-gun nests set up at every crossing,” warned Adams. “When you get close to the border, you’ll have to ditch the car and go on foot. I’ll show you where.”

One hour later, the four FBI agents, carrying Patton, staggered back into the United States.[1]

Patton was rushed to the University Medical Center Hospital in El Paso. He was hysterical, incoherent, and crying. He wanted to tell them something, but kept breaking down before he could get the words out. He was sedated and drifted out of consciousness.

Over the weekend, Patton was still listed as being in shock and only his wife was allowed in to see him. It would be Monday morning before he had recovered enough to be debriefed.

[1] The four FBI agents were never officially recognized for their act of heroism. Instead, they received disciplinary action for acting on their own and not going through official channels. They were allowed to keep their jobs, but were immediately transferred to separate regions across the United States.

chapter six

Early Saturday morning found Jack Taggart slowly cruising through an upscale neighbourhood in Vancouver. He had obtained Earl Porter’s address, which was a penthouse condo on Beach Avenue, overlooking the False Creek marina. Besides his Mustang, the Motor Vehicle Branch also listed Porter as owning a silver pickup truck.

The apartment building was monitored with closed-circuit television cameras and had a secure underground parking lot, but Jack simply bided his time and gained entry by quickly walking through the garage door after a car had entered. A quick look for Porter’s vehicles resulted in locating his convertible Mustang, but the pickup truck was gone. From the layer of pockmarked dust on the Mustang, Jack knew Porter hadn’t driven it for over a week since the last rainfall.

On Sunday night, Jack returned to the condo and saw that the lights to the penthouse were not on. He pushed the intercom regardless, ready to pretend it was a mistake, but there was no response.

On Monday morning at ten o’clock, Jack was scheduled to testify at the trial of several Satans Wrath motorcycle gang members who had been charged with conspiracy to traffic in cocaine. Jack, as an undercover operative with the RCMP Intelligence Unit, normally avoided going to court. He was, however, considered an expert when it came to organized crime and Satans Wrath in particular. He had well-documented evidence Satans Wrath was a criminal empire that had successfully clawed and murdered its way to become an international organized-crime syndicate.

The club had chapters in dozens of countries and was involved in almost every criminal venture a person could think of, including murder, extortion, drug trafficking, prostitution, bribery, theft, and loan-sharking. The crown was hoping to prove gangsterism charges under some relatively new sections of the Criminal Code.

It was only nine o’clock and Jack decided he had time before court to make another quick visit to Porter’s condo. His timing was perfect. As he drove up to the condo, he saw Porter’s silver pickup truck entering the garage.

Jack called Connie Crane, who was a veteran homicide investigator with the RCMP and assigned to the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team. Jack had worked with her on past investigations and although Connie had often voiced her objections to Jack’s style of policing, he still highly respected her.

Jack quickly filled Connie in on what Marcie had told him about Lily Rae and what he had discovered about Porter from Drug Section.

“He’s home now, CC. How long will it take you to interview him? Half an hour is all I’m asking.”

“I do homicides, not missing persons.”

“Yeah, like all the missing persons who showed up at the pig farm.”

“That’s a low blow, Jack, even for you. You know how awful I feel about that case.”

“Sorry … I know you’re dedicated … and overworked. We all are.”

“Why me?”

“Next to a polygraph operator, you’re the best person I know at sniffing out a liar.”

“Thanks, I think I smell one now over the phone. Why don’t you do it?” Connie asked.

“If you do it and think he’s done something to her, then I’ll try a UC approach. I don’t want him knowing who I really am.”

“Christ … yeah, okay. I’ll do it.”

“Thanks, CC. I owe you one,” said Jack.

“Hey, with you involved, I should be happy I’m not coming over to look at a body. Are you going to wait until I get there?”

“Can’t. I have to be in Supreme Court at ten.”

“What? You really do go to court sometimes?” said Connie sarcastically. “I never knew you to actually arrest someone. I thought when you were done with the bad guys you handed them over to the coroner.”

Jack chuckled. “Don’t give me too much credit. This isn’t for anyone I busted. I have to give expert testimony and tell a judge that Satans Wrath really are a criminal group operating in concert with each other.”

“Everyone knows about Satans Wrath. Tell the judge to read a newspaper.”

“The prosecutor thinks I’ll be done by eleven.”

“You never know how long an interview will take. I’ll call you or leave a message as soon as I’ve talked to him.”

Jack gave his evidence and was off the stand by eleven. He had not heard back from CC yet and as he was the last witness, he decided to sit in the courtroom and listen to the summations by the Crown and the defence lawyers. The courtroom was almost empty, with the exception of a couple of wives and girlfriends. The defence lawyers knew it wouldn’t help their cause to show their solidarity by having it packed full of bikers.

The only club member who did show up to watch was dressed in a suit and tie and looked like the wealthy businessman he was. Damien was the national president of the club and he and Jack knew each other well. Too well, in both their opinions.

The judge was about to render a decision when Connie stuck her head inside the courtroom and motioned for Jack to come out into the hallway.

“You got time to talk?” she asked.

“Yes, we’re about done here. I think the judge has to get back to Disneyland.”

“Where’s your sidekick?”

“I’m flying solo these days. Laura’s on holidays. Gone for three weeks. So how did it go with Porter?”

“I talked to him. To start with, he is paranoid as hell. Something has him scared. I had to hold my badge up to the camera at the front door before he let me in. He even locked the door once I was inside.”

“What about Lily Rae?”

“No sign of her. I asked when he had last seen her and he wouldn’t give me a straight answer. It was more like he wanted to know whatever I knew. Things like, ‘What makes you think I would know where she is?’ or, ‘If something happened to her, I had nothing to do with it.’”

“The bastard.”

“He’s really insolent … kind of got my goat. I tell ya, he’s one guy I’d feel almost justified in smacking around. In the end, he said he dumped her over a week ago and didn’t know where she was.”

“Maybe he did and she got embarrassed or something and ran away. Marcie said she had run away before.”

“Not a chance. That son of a bitch has done something to her.”

“You absolutely certain?” asked Jack.

“One hundred percent. You should have seen his face. A kid in kindergarten could have seen he was lying. I think we should get our ducks in a row. Maybe check his phone records and talk to his neighbours. Find out if anyone heard any fights or anything and then bring him in and really question him. If he doesn’t lawyer up, I bet I could get him to crack within an hour.”

“How did you leave it with him?”

“I remained noncommittal because I wanted to talk to you first. I didn’t want to freak him out any worse than he is and get him to thinking he should call a lawyer. I gave him my card and told him to give me a call if he heard from her or remembered something.”

“I doubt you’ll get much in the way of phone records. If he and his buddy Clive Slater are dealing coke, they’ll be changing cellphones faster than you change your panties. I think you —”

Jack stopped talking as Damien exited the courtroom and walked over to them.

“Good day, Corporal Taggart,” said Damien with a smile. “Hope you have a pleasant afternoon. I know I will,” he added, before walking away.

“What was that all about?” asked Connie.

“He was letting me know the judge didn’t accept my evidence.”

“What? You’re kidding! Everyone knows Satans Wrath’s history of murder and dope dealing. How could a judge even consider the idea that they’re not in it as a criminal venture?”

Jack shrugged and said, “Your guess is probably about as good as mine. Maybe the new law wasn’t worded to the judge’s liking. Or it could be one of a number of other things. The judge could be scared, obtuse, bought off, or has a utopian belief that any potential violation of civil rights outweighs the need to protect society as a whole. Take your pick.”

“You don’t seem all that upset,” noted Connie.

Jack shrugged and said, “I’ve lost all faith in the justice system. Nothing surprises me anymore.”

Connie studied Jack for a moment. Of course you don’t believe in the justice system. Explains why you completely ignore it a lot of the time. You prefer to send people directly to the morgue …

“Now, back to Porter,” continued Jack. “Do your thing first. Get your ducks in a row and bring him in for proper questioning.”

“Sounds good. Hopefully he doesn’t lawyer up.”

Jack’s face remained impassive, hiding what he was thinking. For his sake, he better hope he talks to you. Otherwise I’ll get him to talk my way …

chapter seven

In El Paso, the sun had barely cracked the eastern horizon Monday morning when Adams went to the hospital. Becky was at her husband’s bedside when he arrived, but when she saw Adams, she quickly got up and met him at the door.

“Becky, I’m so sorry,” said Adams. “How’s he doing?”

“Awful, but he wants to talk to you. He spent most of yesterday under sedation, but when he was awake, he kept asking for you.”

“The doctors said to let him get some rest and give him time to settle down before debriefing him.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what to say. I’m just glad we got him back.”

“What is there to say?” she replied bitterly. “Except that it’s over. We’re done with this shit,” she added defiantly. “I can’t take it anymore. As soon as he’s out of here he’s putting in his papers to resign … and don’t you try to talk him out of it,” she added, vehemently.

“I won’t,” replied Adams softly. “I don’t blame him. I expected he would quit. Anybody would.”

Becky studied his face, wondering if he was telling the truth and said, “I’ll wait out here, but keep it short. He can barely hold it together enough to say more than a sentence or two without breaking down.”

Adams nodded and walked into the room. Patton propped himself up on the bed. His eyes were watery and one was bruised and swollen, leaving only a slit to peer out of.

“How ya doin’, partner?” asked Adams. “Hanging in there? I’d have brought you a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, but the stores aren’t open yet. Figured it would be better than whatever prescription shit they’re feedin’ ya in here.”

“I’m not good, John,” admitted Patton. “I’m … I’m finished. I’m quitting. It’s my idea as much as Becky’s.”

“I know, she told me,” replied Adams, sitting down. “Don’t blame you a bit. Yesterday Yolanda and I talked about it, too … and we don’t have any kids.”

Talk between Adams and Yolanda of quitting was a lie, but it was a lie Adams felt his partner needed to hear. The truth was that Adams was too enraged to quit. He wanted to get even. He wanted justice.

“There’s something else. I, I really screwed up,” Patton said, covering his face with his hands to try and stifle a sob.

“You didn’t screw up. We’re always working alone over there. They set you up and wanted you to follow the Mercedes. It was a proper ambush. It could have happened to me as easily as it did to you.”

“It’s not that,” cried Patton. “I really screwed up. I told them.”

“Told them what? What are you talking about?”

“They wanted the names of everyone I worked with. I told them. I didn’t want to, but I did.”

“Fuck ’em. Let them come after us. I hope they do.”

“No … it’s not that. They wanted home addresses. The names of our wives and kids. Some of it I tried to make up. Giving fake names, but I had lost it. There was a lot of yelling and screaming. I was scared. I might have given them some real names, too. Or maybe I only think I did.… Every time I go to sleep it’s like I’m there again. I can’t tell my nightmares apart from what I really did say.”

“Hell, I bet hardly any of them spoke English. They won’t remember or know what —”

“No, the captain spoke good English. He was writing down what I was saying in a notebook. Then he would smile at me as he flipped the pages back and ask some of the same questions over again. They caught me lying a couple of times.”

“Those fucking bastards,” fumed Adams.

“I tried to invent new names, but now I’m not sure what I told them. I know I gave them some of the guys’ real names because I figured they probably knew the names of guys who had been here for years. I even gave them yours. Not your real address, but your name. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. We’re flesh and blood. There is only so much any of us can take.”

“But our families, John. My God, our families …”

“You were gutsy to be throwing out whatever phony names you did. I can only imagine what the pain would have been like. Most men would have spilled their guts immediately. Did they ask about our office? Do they know where it is?”

“No, they never asked. I don’t think it occurred to them that we wouldn’t be working out of the downtown office. Which reminds me. What about the four guys who rescued me? Who were they?”

“FBI agents from the downtown office. I had never met them before, either. Pretty stand-up guys … for FBI agents. Acted almost like real cops.”

Adams’s attempt to get Patton to smile failed.

“I never even thanked them,” he said sombrely.

“I think they would have understood. Under the circumstances, I suspect you had other stuff on your mind.”

“I think I had lost my mind at that point.”

“I’ll get ahold of them. I know they’ll want to come and see how you’re doing.”

“Thanks.”

“The green Mercedes that set you up … I’m sure they’ve already switched plates. There aren’t too many green Mercedes around, but was there anything besides the colour to identify it?”

“It did have a small white scrape in the fender behind the right rear tire. Why? You don’t plan on going back to that house, do you? They’ll have cleared out —”

“I think I already know who owns it. I talked to my friend and he said a guy in the Guajardo cartel by the name of Chico drives a green Mercedes. Chico is an under-boss to the Carrillo Fuentes brothers. He said Chico comes to El Paso regularly to collect money from the pimps who work for him and that he meets them at the Red Poker.”

“So they might have used him to bait the trap at the house we were working on.”

“Yeah … and maybe to check out the addresses you threw at them.” Adams stood up and added, “Get some rest, Greg. I’ll be by to see you later.”

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you think?”

“Don’t, John. It ain’t worth it.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid.”

Adams felt more sickened and more enraged as he drove back to his office. He didn’t feel any better after telling his boss, Weber, along with the other three bosses in the office what Patton went through and the questions that were asked.

Adams felt the four bosses shared the same attitude that was summed up by Davidson, who was the senior officer of the FBI contingent in their office.

Davidson shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well, not much we can do about it. I’m sure Washington will protest.”

“Protest!” stammered Adams. “If we don’t have the backbone to retaliate after this, none of our families will be safe.”

“There will be no retaliation,” said Weber, sharply. “We are not like them. It is what separates the good guys from the bad.”

Adams glared at Weber. “You didn’t see Greg’s face. What they’ve done to him … they broke him. He’ll never be the same.”

Weber sighed. “I know he’s been through a lot. So have you. You’re angry. We all are. I want you to take a week off. Go home to your wife.”

An hour later, Adams left the office … but he didn’t go home. He opted instead to go to the Red Poker Saloon.

chapter eight

Earl Porter heard the light knock on his door. It had only been twenty minutes since the policewoman had left. He picked up her card from his coffee table and looked at it. Corporal Connie Crane. The knock came again.

“Who is it?” he yelled.

The quiet, but persistent knock continued.

Porter cautiously made his way to the door and looked through the peephole. What he saw was a young girl dressed in a Girl Guide uniform. He breathed a sigh of relief, unlocked the door, and opened it.

Two men burst inside. One pointed a pistol at him while the other brandished a hunting knife. The man with the knife mockingly said, “We have something to discuss, Señor Porter.”

Connie Crane and Jack Taggart were walking out of the courthouse together when Connie received a call on her cellphone. Jack saw the shocked look on her face as she listened.

“I was just there,” she said. “Less than two hours ago … I was interviewing him over a missing person … his girlfriend … Lily Rae.”

Connie paused and stared at Jack suspiciously and added, “Jack Taggart from Intelligence asked me to talk to him. Before this morning, I had never heard of the guy. I’m with Taggart now … not a problem, we’ll both be there.” After Connie hung up, she stood quietly staring at Jack.

“What’s up?” asked Jack.

“What’s up? You mean you’re going to stand here and tell me you don’t know?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking. Why are you looking at me like that? What’s going on?”

“That was Wilson from VPD Homicide. After I left Porter’s this morning, a maid went in to water plants because she thought he was still out of town. She found him tied and gagged to a kitchen chair … with his throat slit.”

“What the hell? I had nothing to do with it. I was in court. You know that. I’m trying to find Lily Rae. I didn’t want the guy who could tell us where she is, getting murdered. Think about it.”

Connie paused for a moment, biting her lip as she pondered the situation before replying, “Yeah, okay, I believe you.

“You should.”

“Shit, don’t blame me for being suspicious. It’s not like you don’t have a long history for doing things you shouldn’t … and don’t give me that act surprised, show concern, deny, deny, deny routine. There have been far too many bodies turning up around you and far too many coincidences.”

“So … how’s it feel with the shoe on the other foot?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well … you know I’m going to have to be truthful when I talk to Wilson. You were the last person to see him alive. You then came to see me and appeared angry. As I recall, you even made some comment about feeling justified smacking him around. Jesus, CC. Why did you do it? You must have known you would get caught.”

“What the fuck? Jack! I didn’t! It was just a coincidence that —”

“A coincidence?” Jack grinned. “Where have I heard that word before?”

Connie scowled at Jack. “You prick. Quit screwing with me.”

Connie and Jack arrived at the condo building and a uniformed member of the Vancouver Police Department opened the lobby door to let them in. Minutes later, Detective Wilson came out in the hallway to talk to them outside of Porter’s penthouse.

Jack told Wilson what had prompted his interest in Porter, as well as Drug Section’s past interest in Porter and his associate, Clive Slater.

“Business interests in Mexico,” mused Wilson. “We already ran the footage on the apartment security cameras. The cameras show two men sneaking in through the underground garage this morning. They both look dark and I was thinking they were Aboriginal, but now that I think of it, they do look Mexican. One looked up at the cameras. I expected him then to try and hide his face. It was the opposite. The asshole sneered into the camera and laughed.”

“He sneered and laughed?” said Jack, incredulously.

“We don’t have sound, but you can tell he did. His sneer is one I won’t forget, either.”

“Let’s nickname him El Burla,” said Jack.

“Al who?” asked Wilson.

“El Burla. The Spanish word for sneer is burla.”

“Sounds good,” replied Wilson.

“You’ve got their faces, then?” noted Connie.

“El Burla for sure. Stocky, black hair covering the tops of his ears, and a very flat and wide nose. He acted like he thought he was invincible. As if he thought we couldn’t touch him. I’ll love showing a jury the camera footage once we catch him. The other guy’s image isn’t quite as clear. I’ll have to see if we can enhance it.”

“Porter was really paranoid when I came to see him,” said Connie. “Now it makes sense. He knew somebody was after him. The thing is, he wouldn’t open the door, even for me, until I held my badge up to the peephole.”

“The door isn’t damaged, so maybe he trusted whoever he let in,” noted Wilson.

“Are you going to grab Clive Slater for questioning?” asked Jack.

“Definitely.” Wilson looked at Connie. “Maybe you and I should work together. You for the missing girlfriend and me for her boyfriend’s homicide.”

“Sounds good to me,” replied Connie. “Let’s hope it doesn’t turn into a double homicide.” She looked at Jack. “Anything to add?”

Jack shook his head. “Not now. You two do your thing, but keep me apprised. I’m willing to help out with a UC approach if it is warranted. Maybe on Slater or whoever else surfaces.”

“You said a UC was tried on Slater before,” said Connie. “It didn’t work.”

“There are different approaches or styles to UC work,” replied Jack.

“Yeah, go figure,” said Connie. “And please, tell me, what would your style —” Connie quit talking as Jack walked past her a short distance down the hallway and gingerly picked up a small piece of cardboard.

“What is it?” asked Wilson.

“A cut-out picture of a Girl Guide,” said Jack. “Explains why Porter opened his door.”

“It does?” asked Wilson. He looked at Connie and she shrugged.

Moments later, both Wilson and Connie took turns peeking through the peephole in Porter’s door while Jack remained in the hall holding the picture up close to the peephole.

“I’d have sworn it was a real kid standing in the hall,” muttered Connie.

Wilson went to Clive Slater’s apartment and found he wasn’t home, so he stuck a business card in his door. A couple of hours later, Wilson received a call from a lawyer by the name of Jenkins who said he was representing Slater and asked what it was about. Wilson told him and Jenkins said he would call back. Minutes later, Jenkins called again and said Slater had agreed to meet Wilson as long as Jenkins was present. Wilson tried to set up an appointment immediately, but Jenkins said his calendar was full. Eventually the lawyer agreed to meet at Wilson’s office the following afternoon at three o’clock.

Connie called Jack to let him know.

“Four hours after a murder and he’s already lawyered up without Wilson even talking to him?” Jack was incredulous.

“Yeah, how about that.”

“You can bet his hands are dirty, too,” muttered Jack.

“Sounds like it. With his lawyer, I doubt Wilson will get much, but who knows. Wilson does have a good rep for being sharp. I’m going down there tomorrow when he interviews him.”

“You going to interview him, too?”

“Not until I hear what he says to Wilson. Later, if need be, we can use Lily Rae as another excuse for me to interview him. Wilson might touch on her disappearance because they would expect us to know she was Porter’s girlfriend, but we will likely hold back on any serious questioning in her regard until later. Maybe catch him without a lawyer. I’ll be down at VPD to confer with Wilson if he feels the need. Would be good if we could reach you, as well.”

“I’ll be available on my cell,” replied Jack. “Tonight, if you don’t have any objections, I’m going to drive out and tell Marcie that Porter was murdered.”

“Not a problem.”

“What about Lily Rae’s mother?” asked Jack. “She should be told, too.”

“Go ahead. Saves me from telling her. Let me know if she says anything that will help. Also, if Lily uses a computer at home, I’d like to get it. Same for anything else you see that might help.”

“Will do … and tell Wilson good luck.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. With the lawyer there, I bet it will be a short interview.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” agreed Jack before hanging up. He brooded for a moment as he formulated a plan on how to get Slater to talk.

Slater won’t think it’s a short interview when I talk to him. In fact, I bet he will remember it for the rest of his life …

chapter nine

On Monday night, Jack and Natasha, with Mikey in an infant car seat in the back seat, drove out to Liz and Ben’s farm in Chilliwack. Jack hadn’t told them he was coming, as he wanted to be with Marcie and console her if need be, when he updated her on the investigation.

When they arrived, Ben, Liz, and Marcie came out of the house to meet them.

“What a nice surprise,” said Ben. “What brings you out here?”

“Have you eaten?” asked Liz.

“We already ate, but thanks,” replied Natasha.

“What about you, Mikey? Want me to throw on a steak or something?” Ben joked.

“Think we better wait until he grows teeth,” suggested Natasha.

Jack saw the worried look on Marcie’s face as she looked at him. He shook his head and said, “No sign of her yet, but I want to talk to you.”

While the others went inside, Jack walked with Marcie down the long driveway as he told her about the murder and that Porter had been suspected of being involved with cocaine trafficking.

“Oh, no,” cried Marcie. “I knew it! I knew something was wrong. Lily … you think … what? What do you think happened to her?”

“I know it doesn’t look good, but there is still no sign of her. Whoever murdered Porter didn’t try to hide his body. The fact we haven’t found Lily yet could be a good sign.”

“But where could she be?”

“I don’t know. Maybe tied and gagged and in the trunk of some car. Porter may have ripped off some dope dealers. Maybe she was taken as a hostage to get him to return the drugs or something.”

“But now that they’ve killed him …”

“I know it doesn’t look good, but don’t give up hope.”

“So what’s going to happen?

“VPD Homicide have arranged an interview with one of Porter’s associates tomorrow afternoon to see if they can come up with some leads. The guy is also suspected of being involved with cocaine trafficking. I’m sure he knows something.”

“Why are they waiting until tomorrow? Talk to him now,” urged Marcie.

“He lawyered up. That was the soonest the lawyer would agree to.”

“What if he clams up?” asked Marcie, sounding panicked. “What then?”

“Then I’ll do my thing.”

“Oh … I see,” she replied, calming down. They took a couple of steps in silence as Marcie thought about it before adding, “Guess he better hope he talks to the cops tomorrow.”

Jack frowned. Marcie was a smart kid. She had picked up a lot about certain things over the years. Things he wished she knew nothing about.

Marcie saw his face and said, “Sorry. That was stupid of me. I mean, you know, I meant you would do your undercover stuff or whatever.”

“Yes, I know what you meant. Do you think Lily’s mother is home? I would like to meet her and update her, as well.”

“They only live about fifteen minutes away by car. Want me to take you there?”

“Yes, but we’ll take my car. Save your gas money for university.”

Jack pulled up to a small, single-level ranch-style house and parked. The home had a ramp leading up alongside the stairs to the front door. A flower garden bordered the front of the house and there was a small cedar wishing well in the front yard beside an apple tree. The home was being well cared for, with the exception that the lawn was in dire need of cutting and a few weeds had sprung up in the flower beds.

Marcie rang the doorbell. She saw Jack looking at the flower beds and said, “Lily always looked after that stuff.”

Jack was introduced to Eva Rae and quickly told her he had nothing new on Lily’s whereabouts, but there was something he thought she should know.

Eva looked up at him from her wheelchair with a face that expressed relief she wasn’t being informed of her daughter’s death, but at the same time, disappointment there was not good news. She invited them into the living room and Jack watched as she manipulated the toggle stick on her wheelchair with one hand. Her other hand was crippled and she held it close to her body.

Once seated, Eva offered them a beverage. Both Jack and Marcie declined.

Jack updated Eva on the investigation and Jack could see the shock on her face when she learned about Porter’s murder.

“You knew!” exclaimed Eva, looking at Marcie. “You tried to warn her he was no good. She told me you two had a fight … that you were jealous, but … Oh, God,” she cried, raising her hand to her mouth as the tears ran down her cheek.

“I should have tried harder,” said Marcie. “I’m sorry. I —”

“No, don’t you be sorry,” sobbed Eva. “I thought he was no good, too. He was so much older … I should have talked to her, but I was afraid.” She looked at Jack. “I was afraid I would drive her away. When she said she was going away with him for a couple of days, I didn’t like it … especially when she wouldn’t tell me where. I was upset, but she’s almost a grown woman … I was afraid to say anything about it.”

“Any thoughts or guesses where she might have gone?” asked Jack.

“I had a hunch they were eloping to Vegas to get married. I think she wanted it to be a surprise. I’m only guessing.”

“Sounds reasonable,” said Jack, watching as Eva manoeuvred her chair beside him and grabbed his hand.

“She is all I have,” said Eva, emphatically. She bit her lip for a moment before adding, “She is my only reason for living.”

“Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” said Jack, giving her hand a squeeze. “Sometimes kids need to find things out on their own … but don’t give up hope. We are exploring avenues to come up with a lead. I am confident one of Earl’s associates will know something to help us with our investigation.”

“Promise me you will do everything you can to find her,” said Eva, staring intently at Jack’s face.

“I promise,” replied Jack. “You have my word on it.”

Eva nodded solemnly. “Thank you,” she said, letting her hand slip from his.

“One more thing,” said Jack. “If Lily has a computer, I would like to take it. It might identify someone else for us to interview.”

“She has one in her bedroom,” replied Eva, still fighting to regain her composure. “Go ahead and take it. I’ve already gone through the rest of her stuff. I didn’t find anything, but you’re welcome to look and take whatever you need.”

Eva led Jack to Lily’s bedroom and Marcie followed. As Jack unhooked the computer, he glanced around the room. It was immaculate and consisted of a single bed that was made up and had a stuffed green frog on the pillow. Pictures on a dresser showed happy times with Lily and her mother.

One picture in particular caught Jack’s attention and he didn’t understand why. It was a portrait of Lily’s face. Her features looked soft and he thought there was a certain wide-eyed innocence about her. Forced at such a young age to look after her only parent … her life can’t be easy, yet she looks serene.

As Jack carried the computer out of the room, he looked back at the picture again. Something about Lily’s eyes fixated him. It’s like she’s trying to reach out from the grave for me to help her. He felt his stomach knot as an intense feeling of dread overtook his mind. Something very, very bad has happened to her …

chapter ten

Early Tuesday afternoon in El Paso, Texas, a green Mercedes pulled into the parking lot of the Red Poker Saloon.

Adams sat upright from behind the steering wheel of his Celica and focused his binoculars. He caught a glimpse of the small, white scrape over the right rear fender of the Mercedes as it turned into a parking stall.

He immediately started his car and sped through the parking lot, stopping behind the Mercedes as Chico was walking away from his car.

Adams leaped from his car and yelled, “Hey, Chico!”

Chico turned and said, “Do I know you?”

“You’re about to!” replied Adams, flashing his badge with one hand while pointing a pistol at Chico’s head. “Immigration! Put your hands on the hood of your car!”

Chico slowly obeyed, but as Adams approached him, three men pulled up in another car and stopped nose-to-nose with Adams’s car. The driver had his window down and yelled Chico’s name. Chico kept his hands on the hood of the car, but yelled back.

“No talking, asshole!” ordered Adams, while putting his badge away and taking out his handcuffs.

“I just told them you were with Immigration,” explained Chico. “There is a mistake. I am not an illegal. I have my green card.”

The three men got out of their car so Adams pointed his pistol in their direction and said, “You guys want to be next? Back off!”

The three men stopped, but stood where they were and whispered amongst themselves as Adams searched Chico and removed a loaded pistol from his waistband.

“I have a permit to carry a concealed handgun,” said Chico.

“I’m sure you do,” replied Adams. “Your three friends probably do, too, so tell them if they come any closer I will shoot them.”

Chico yelled over to the three men and they all looked at each other and took a couple of steps back as Adams handcuffed Chico’s hands behind his back. He then grabbed the man by the arm and herded him over to his Celica and placed him in the back seat and did up the seatbelt.

“You do not even ask to see my green card?” sputtered Chico.

“Not interested in your fucking green card or your gun permit.”

“So if you are not arresting me for being an illegal,” Chico stared at Adams. “You are, you are…”

“That’s right, asshole. Greg Patton was my partner!”

Chico yelled in Spanish at the three men as Adams slammed the door and returned to the driver’s seat where he put the car in reverse and backed up to the end of the row to turn around. The three men scrambled back in their car and sped toward them, but came to a screeching stop when Adams lowered his window and pointed his pistol at the driver. Seconds later, he was out of the lot and speeding away.

“You can prove nothing,” said Chico, when Adams stopped at a red light.

Their eyes met in his rear-view mirror and Adams said, “You were the bait car the other morning. You knew a Mercedes would attract our attention. You waited until my partner came by and then set him up to follow you.”

“The other morning?” said Chico sarcastically. “I do remember some car behind me. I think the Mexican police thought he was up to no good and stopped him for questioning. That is all I know. You can prove nothing with me.”

“I know what you did.”

Chico smiled and said, “Knowing and proving, señor, are very different matters.”

“I am not interested in proving it, Chico. Pay attention to where I am turning. We are going out into the desert.”

Chico uttered a laugh from the back seat.

“Something funny, Chico?” asked Adam.

Chico sneered at him and said, “You can’t touch me. I told my men who you are. If anything happens … there are witnesses who can identify you.”

“They’re probably pimps and dope dealers. Who is going to believe them?”

“There were other cars in the lot. Other witnesses. I know you saw them. So did I.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” replied Adams. “You are going to give your bosses a message.”

“What bosses?”

“All of them. Including your top boss … Rafael Guajardo.”

“Rafael Guajardo? I have never even spoken with Señor Guajardo. I have nothing to do with him … although I know him to be a respected businessman and someone who people look up to and admire.”

“Yeah, you probably are too much of a peon to talk to him. Perhaps you only deal with the Carrillo Fuentes brothers. It doesn’t matter. Guajardo will get the message.”

“And what message am I supposed to tell them?” asked Chico scornfully. “That you don’t like what happened?”

“There will be no need for you to say anything,” replied Adams.

Adams drove for an hour out into the desert. By then, Chico had long since stopped laughing.

chapter eleven

On Tuesday afternoon in Vancouver, Detective Wilson was sitting with Corporal Connie Crane in a small office within the Vancouver Police Department when Wilson received a call saying Mr. Jenkins and a Clive Slater had arrived to see him.

Connie glanced at her watch. “Twelve minutes late.”

“Yeah, the games people play,” Wilson replied. “Maybe it empowers Jenkins,” he added, grinning to himself as he shuffled to his feet and picked up a file from his desk. He glanced at Connie and said, “Well, time to get on with the show.”

“Good luck.”

Wilson was cordial as he directed Jenkins and Slater to an interview room. “Either of you like a coffee?” he asked, as they entered the room.

Both men declined, so once everyone was seated, Wilson took out his notebook and started asking some basic questions as to how well Slater knew Porter, along with where he was when Porter was murdered.

Wilson’s appearance in the interview room gave the impression that he was barely interested in the commentary Slater was giving him. He jotted down a few notes, but acted like someone who was bored with his job and was only filling out the proper paperwork to complete a bureaucratic process.

After a few questions, Wilson stifled a yawn and then smiled apologetically at Slater and Mr. Jenkins. Wilson’s appearance cleverly disguised the fact that his eyes and ears took in everything. It was not only Slater’s manicured hands, expensive watch, jade bracelet, and tailored clothes that caught his eye, nor the just specific choice of words spoken by both Slater and his lawyer that caught his attention. Wilson was a trained professional who was acutely aware of the body language that both Jenkins and Slater displayed with every question asked and with every lull in the conversation.

“As you can now see,” said Jenkins, “from what my client has told you, he has a good alibi for where he was two days ago when the murder took place. It should be easy for you to check out.”

“We are not looking at you for the murder,” replied Wilson, with a quizzical glance at Slater. “I am surprised you felt the need to bring Mr. Jenkins with you. I don’t understand why you would be so nervous. Is there a reason you thought we might be looking at you as the culprit?”

“Nervous?” smiled Slater, shaking his head as he leaned back and crossed his legs. “I can assure you I am not the nervous type. However, having been the focus of attention of an undercover police operative two years ago, I thought it prudent to be cautious.”

“An undercover police operative?” replied Wilson. “I am afraid I know nothing about that.”

“Perhaps you don’t, but if you had done your homework and checked with your brethren in the RCMP, they would have told you.”

“Why were the RCMP after you?”

“My client does not know the reason,” said Jenkins. “Anything he would have to say on the matter would be sheer speculation. From what I understand, their investigation revealed there was no wrong-doing on the part of Mr. Slater.”

“I’m not opposed to speculation at this point,” said Wilson.

“Well, I am,” replied Jenkins tersely. “It can lead to all sorts of conjecture and false —”

“It’s okay, Jenkins,” interrupted Slater smugly, before looking at Wilson. “My guess is some of the people I had casually met at various nightclubs may have been involved in some illegal activity. The RCMP, being rather overzealous, and likely poorly equipped on a cerebral level, jumped to the wrong conclusion and thought I was involved.”

“What illegal activities are we talking about?”

“I swear, I have no idea. You would have to ask them.”

Wilson’s face remained impassive. He had been lied to by hundreds of suspects over the years. He knew he had just been lied to again. “Well, the reason I asked you to come here was to help us. We understood Earl Porter was your friend. I presume you would want to help us catch who killed your friend?”

“My friend?” replied Slater, while touching his fingers to his chest and glancing open-mouthed at Jenkins for effect.

The theatrics were not lost on Wilson, but his face showed no sign he knew he was being misled.

“I would hardly say that man was my friend,” continued Slater. “He was simply more of an associate than a friend. He was someone I bumped into occasionally on the nightclub circuit.”

“I see. Do you know if he had any enemies?”

“Obviously he must have had one, don’t you think so, Detective?” replied Slater with a smirk. “Under the circumstances, I would hardly think it was a random robbery.”

“Any idea who this enemy could be?”

“If I knew, don’t you think I would have come forward immediately without being summoned? I mean, why would I have waited until now?”

Wilson stared silently at Slater. He is fishing for information. He wants to know what we know. Wilson flipped through a couple of pages in the file as if looking for something. He read silently for a moment and nodded his head slowly. It gave an ambiguous impression.

Slater saw the nod and wondered, Is he agreeing that I wouldn’t have waited … or is he nodding because he knows why I didn’t come in immediately?

Wilson caught the nervous glance Slater gave Jenkins before continuing. “Can you think of a reason why someone would kill him?”

“Who knows why? Life can be a crapshoot. Shit happens. Maybe he rolled the dice one too many times,” replied Slater with a shrug.

“Watch it,” cautioned Jenkins, putting his hand on Slater’s arm. “Do not speculate beyond the questions put to you.”

“Speculate on what?” asked Wilson. Slater’s comment may have been innocuous, but Jenkins’s reaction says there is more to it …

“Nothing. Simply an expression,” said Slater. “I know he hung around with a lot of different groups of people. Do you have any clues that could help me make a more informed hypothesis?”

“Nothing I can share at this time,” replied Wilson.

“I see,” said Slater, glancing at his watch. “Are we done, then? Tuesdays and Saturdays I have squash lessons to go to down at The Racquet Club. I’m billed for the time … so if I miss it, will you compensate me?”

“Uh, no,” said Wilson.

“I thought not,” replied Slater, smiling.

“I am almost finished,” said Wilson. “I want to ask you about a young woman by the name of Lily Rae.”

Slater hesitated. “Am I supposed to know her?”

“Oh?” replied Wilson, looking surprised as he searched through some more papers in the file in front of him. “You say you don’t?” he added as he paused to skim a report before looking up to await Slater’s reply.

“Oh, hang on,” said Slater. “Is that one of his girlfriends? Maybe I did meet her. I can’t remember for sure. He goes through girls like candy.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“I don’t remember. Must have been weeks ago, maybe longer,” said Slater, who was sharply aware that Wilson looked at the report again, only this time he used his index finger to point something out to himself. “She might have been someone he brought to my place once,” Slater hastened to add. “I swear, I really don’t know anything about her. Sorry.”

“Yes, over to your place,” said Wilson as though he was already aware of it. “You knew Porter more than from just bumping into him at nightclubs. Isn’t that right?”

“Hang on,” said Jenkins. “Just because someone invites someone home from a nightclub hardly means they’re good friends. What evidence do you have to make you think they were good friends? Or that my client could reasonably be expected to even remember Miss Rae?”

“I’m sorry, but I am only asking questions as a matter of routine to try and find out everyone the victim associated with,” replied Wilson.

“We hardly have the time to sit here all day while you randomly cast your net in the water for information,” said Jenkins. “My client has been more than co-operative and I would suggest that unless you have something more concrete to ask, you should consider this interview over.”

“If I could please ask you to wait another couple of minutes,” said Wilson. “I would like to confer with someone.”

“You have already wasted enough of our time,” said Jenkins, getting to his feet.

“It’s in regard to Mr. Slater’s comment about whether I could share some of our findings to see if he could make a more informed hypothesis. I see no reason not to share it with him, but I wouldn’t want to do it without permission from my boss.”

Slater anxiously leaned forward in his chair and grabbed Jenkins by the sleeve of his suit jacket. “We’ve got time,” he said, before looking at Wilson. “If I’m a few minutes late for the squash lesson, it’ll be okay.”

Jack received a call from Connie, who got right to the point. “I’m still at VPD. Slater showed up with a lawyer and Wilson just stepped out of the interview room to talk to me. Slater is lying and definitely knows something about the murder. He’s like a textbook example of a liar. Psychologically distancing himself from Porter, using fake body language … everything.”

“What about Lily Rae?”

“Wilson touched on her just enough to know Slater is lying about her, too. He definitely knows something.”

“The bastard. Any idea if she is still alive?”

“Can’t tell, but it’s been a couple of days since Porter was killed. I would think if she was still alive, she would have surfaced by now.

“Is Slater still there?”

“Yeah, but unless you can think of anything, we’re going to cut him loose. He’s bitching about having to go to a squash lesson.”

“A squash lesson? Do you know where?”

“Said he has one every Tuesday and Saturday down at The Racquet Club. Why?”

“I could meet him through the squash club. Do a UC. That last UC operative was probably playing the nice guy. We’ve got a missing girl. Maybe it’s time to stop being nice.”

“Damn it, Jack. What are you going to do? Pull his fingernails out with a set of pliers?” Connie paused for a moment and then added, “Which is probably the only way we’d get this son of a bitch to talk.”

“I appreciate your suggestion.”

“I am not suggesting that!” Connie groaned.

“I know. Chill out. Tell me what you plan on doing to find Lily.”

“There’s not a lot left I can do at this point. Nobody knows where she is. Her boyfriend is murdered. From how Porter acted and what he said to me before he was killed, I suspect she’s dead, too. Probably by the same people. The only real lead we have is Slater and he sure as hell won’t talk. I think we’ll have to put Lily on the back burner and see if Wilson can come up with the killers.”

“The guys who swaggered in and nailed Porter weren’t camera-shy. I’m betting they’re back in Mexico. Good luck finding them,” said Jack.

“Yeah, well, Porter’s murder is Wilson’s case.”

“Lily Rae was reported missing out of Chilliwack. That makes her our jurisdiction.”

“She’s probably dead,” said Connie gloomily.

“Yeah, so then you’ve got a homicide to investigate. What are you going to do?”

“I’ve still got her friends to track down and interview. I also have her computer you got for me, but so far it doesn’t look promising.”

“If you and Wilson have already written Slater off, why not let me take a crack at him.”

“What, with the pliers?”

“What if I could get him to talk without physically hurting him? Just by doing a UC and maybe acting like a tough guy. Getting him to open up to me.”

“Without hurting him? What would you do?”

“Whatever I thought was necessary. Mental pressure.”

“Mental pressure? If you even raise your voice at a person to gain a confession, most judges will rule whatever the person says is inadmissible in court. Not to mention that Slater is pretty self-assured. Even if you started screaming at him, I don’t see him as the type to break down and talk.”

“I’m not talking about getting him to say something to incriminate himself. I’m talking about getting him to say something to help us find Lily. We know it wasn’t him who murdered Porter. I want to find out who did.”

“I know, but what if Slater is implicated?” Connie asked. “What if he murdered Lily? If you do something a judge says will throw justice into disrepute, then Slater will walk away from any charges we might —”

“What if Lily’s not dead? Maybe she was taken hostage to put pressure on Porter for whatever he did. Maybe he ripped off their stash or something. The bad guys might have left her tied and gagged in the trunk of some car. They sure as hell didn’t worry about hiding Porter’s body. The fact Lily’s body hasn’t turned up should give us hope.”

“Trust you to think of that scenario. You sure know how to keep me awake all night.”

“Let’s hope Lily is still awake. Come on, CC. I’m not even thinking of hurting Slater physically. Like I said, more of a tough guy image combined with a little intimidation.”

“You think that would get him to talk? I get the feeling he isn’t easily intimidated.”

“The important thing to do is find Lily. I think he will talk.”

Connie paused as she thought about it. “Nothing physical?”

“Nothing physical … but, uh, I suspect whatever he says wouldn’t be admissible in court.”

“What you’re saying all sounds pretty innocent … but I know you. There’s no way I’m going to okay this on my own. I’ll talk it over with Wilson but even if he agrees, I’m still going to run it past a prosecutor. Hopefully one who doesn’t know you.”

“Make it soon. If she’s alive, she may not be for long.”

Connie sighed. “Okay, I’ll get on it right away, but it’s late in the day now and tomorrow’s Canada Day. Bet I don’t get an answer from a prosecutor before Thursday.”

“Let me know. In the meantime, I’ll try to think of an angle to get to Slater.”

Jack grimaced as he hung up. He had a plan brewing in his mind as soon as he heard Slater had obtained a lawyer … but knew it was a plan that if known, would never be approved.

chapter twelve

On Thursday in El Paso, Texas, it was eleven o’clock in the morning when Special Agent Adams awoke to the sound of Yolanda opening the bedroom curtains. She had been up for an hour and was already dressed.

“Christ, close those,” muttered Adams. “The sun feels like someone hit me between the eyes with a hatchet.”

“Serves you right,” replied Yolanda, leaving the curtains open.

“How much did we drink last night?”

“How much did you drink is more like it. Come on, get dressed. It’s almost lunchtime.”

Half an hour later, Adams wandered into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Yolanda looked up from the table at the sound of a can of Budweiser being opened.

“After last night I thought you would have had enough. What’s this? The hair of the dog?”

Adams nodded and took three gulps out of the can before sitting down.

“Want to talk about it?” asked Yolanda.

“What’s more to say,” replied Adams, taking another gulp of beer, more as an excuse to avoid eye contact than to drink. “We got a gun tucked away in every room of the house. Don’t go out without taking the one in your purse. Always keep an eye in the rear-view and the doors locked.”

“It’s not that. I understand why we are on high alert, but …”

“But what?” snapped Adams, yanking a kitchen chair out to sit down. “What is it?”

“That’s what I’m asking you. These last two days you’ve hardly said a word to me. Even last night when I drank with you, I may as well have been drinking alone. I know you. There’s something going on you haven’t told me.”

“Can you blame me for being a little upset over what happened to Greg?” said Adams angrily. “He was my partner for Christ’s sake!”

“Don’t give me that,” she replied in annoyance. “There’s something else going on. I’ve watched you when you’ve been recalled to go out on special ops with the military. I’ve seen you when you and Greg were in the thick of things. Things I knew to be secret and things I’ve never asked about. But something has changed. These last couple of days you’ve hardly spoken.” Yolanda’s face softened and she leaned forward and put her hand on his and said, “I’m worried about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Adams lowered his voice, but his response was terse. “This is different. The bad guys crossed the line with Greg. They had to be sent a message.”

“Had? What kind of message?” she asked, gripping his hand tight.

Adams stared at the Budweiser and didn’t respond.

“What have you done?” cried Yolanda.

Adams looked at her and said solemnly, “Nothing I feel guilty about, so quit worrying.”

Yolanda stood up and stared at Adams for a moment, before shaking her head in exasperation and walking out of the room.

Adams stared after her. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. That he would do anything to protect her.

His cellphone rang. It was his boss.

“Get in here immediately,” seethed Weber.

“I thought you gave me a week off,” replied Adams.

“No time to be funny … you stupid, dumb fucker. You really did it this time. Davidson and a DA are going to interview you. They decided to leave me out of it to show impartiality because I know you. What a laugh that is. After what you did, I don’t know you at all and I don’t want to.”

Adams hung up. He slowly finished the beer and left without saying goodbye to Yolanda. He was afraid to. He knew he would break down if he did.

District Attorney Norman White waited in Davidson’s office for Adams to arrive.

“How long have you known John Adams?” asked White, grimacing as he took a sip of coffee. Not exactly Starbucks …

Davidson leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head.

“I was transferred in here five months ago to head the FBI contingent in the office. I met him then for the first time.”

“What kind of officer is he?”

“Well, he comes under the direct command of Weber, but this is a small enough office that we all know each other to some degree. I consider Adams to be a loose cannon. Not one to follow rules, particularly. Surprising for a guy trained with the Special Forces … they usually follow orders to a T. Adams and his partner … or ex-partner now, were always working on their own and taking unnecessary risks.”

“Did they get any positive results in their invest-igations?” White asked.

Davidson sat forward in his chair, momentarily drumming his fingers on his desk before replying. “Yes, I would have to admit they did,” he replied. “Adams was good at developing confidential sources. It gave him an advantage.”

“Does he have lots of friends in the office?”

“No. I would say none. He is more of a loner type.”

“What about Greg Patton? Isn’t he close to him?”

Davidson shrugged. “I think the type of high-risk work Adams does, combined with his pattern of continually ignoring policy, necessitated that he trust his partner. I’m sure the two men are close, but other than Patton, Adams pretty much sticks to himself.”

“I was wondering if he might have already confided to someone about what he does.”

“Maybe his wife, I don’t know. With the psycho-logical mess Patton is in right now, I doubt he would even tell him.”

“I can’t make Adams’s wife testify against him, regardless.”

“How do you want to play it when he comes in?”

“No doubt he acted out of a blind rage, but now he has to realize he did what he did in broad daylight and in front of numerous witnesses. He’ll know he’s caught. We’ll be polite, but lay our cards on the table. We can even sympathize with him a little for what prompted his rage.”

“What do you think he’s looking at for jail time?”

“With his co-operation, an understanding judge might go along with a twenty-four- to twenty-eight-year sentence.”

Davidson shook his head sadly. “He’ll have to spend it in solitary.”

“It was his choice to do what he did.” White took another sip of coffee and made a face. “God, this stuff is awful.”

“He may demand a lawyer … or even arrive with one.”

“Possible, but I doubt it. In my experience, law-enforcement types who have crossed the line feel so guilty they are actually relieved to confess. You know him, so sit close and play the role of a sympathizer. I’ll tell him I can make a submission to a judge for an agreed sentence. Once he admits it, I’ll step out while you officially give him his rights and record a full confession. I’ll bet you a dinner he doesn’t request a lawyer.”

Adams arrived and nodded silently as Davidson introduced him to Norman White. The three men sat down, with White behind the desk while Davidson sat beside Adams, his chair arranged at a right angle to face him.

“Mr. Davidson is present because he is with the FBI, and your own boss with Customs, could be viewed as lacking impartiality,” said White.

“So I heard,” replied Adams. “Mind telling me what this is all about?”

“You were seen, John,” said Davidson, softly. “Two days ago at the Red Poker.”

“I was seen?”

“Three of Chico’s guys were right there,” said Davidson.

“Not only by those three men,” added White, “but by independent witnesses in two other cars who saw you cuff him and put him in your own car before absconding with him.”

“So I picked him up. What’s the big deal?” replied Adams.

“His body was found yesterday,” said White. “Shot with his own gun.”

“Barely even off the road,” added Davidson. “It was like you wanted it to be found.”

“If he was murdered, I’m not responsible,” stated Adams firmly.

“Look, John, we know you’re a Special Forces operative who sometimes goes on secret missions,” said Davidson, “but this obviously wasn’t one of them. Nobody is going to come forward and say you were authorized.”

“Authorized to do what?” replied Adams. “I told you, I didn’t murder him.”

“John,” said Davidson, “you’ve been caught red-handed. I know you know that. It’s time now to make the best out of a bad situation.” Davidson leaned forward, giving Adams a friendly squeeze on his shoulder and added, “It’s time to come clean, John. Let’s try and work through this together.” Davidson then leaned back in his chair, giving Adams a sympathetic smile and a nod of encouragement.

After a moment of silence, White said, “I think, basically, you’re a good man. You know what you did was wrong. Deep down inside you wanted to get caught. It’s why you left the body on the side of the road. What we’re doing is giving you a chance to tell your side of it. Explain what happened to your partner so a judge will get the full picture and realize the extent of the atrocity that triggered you to do what you did. Then I can make a submission for an agreed length of incarceration.”

“Let’s talk about it, John,” added Davidson, giving Adams another sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

Adams sighed and said, “Okay, I’ll tell you what happened. I did pick Chico up at the Red Poker.”

“And then you drove him out into the desert,” noted White.

“Yes. I wanted to scare him. Make him think I was going to kill him if he didn’t talk. I wanted to find out who ordered Greg’s kidnapping.”

“You already knew it was the Guajardo cartel,” said Davidson.

“Yes, but Guajardo himself was meeting with other cartel bosses in Cancun at the time. He may not have even known about it. He left the Carrillo Fuentes brothers in charge, but there is no evidence they ordered it. I was hoping to scare Chico into giving me the truth.”

“And then what happened?” asked White softly. “Tell me how it went wrong.”

Adams sighed. “Yes, it did go wrong,” he admitted. “Chico laughed at me. The asshole never did say who ordered it. He never believed I was going to kill him.”

“But by him laughing … naturally it would have infuriated you,” said Davidson.

“It would anybody,” agreed White.

“I’ll say I was infuriated,” said Adams bitterly. “I was angry at myself.”

“Angry at yourself … for what he made you do to him?” asked White.

“No. I didn’t do anything to him. I was angry I hadn’t realized some of his guys had followed us out into the desert.”

“What are you talking about?” asked White, glancing questioningly at Davidson.

“From the Red Poker, I guess. I presume it was his guys. When Chico was laughing at me and saying I wouldn’t kill him, I asked how he could be so sure. He told me to look out the back window of my car. It was hard to see because the sun was in my eyes, but I could make out a car parked down the road from where I was parked.”

“What did you do then?” asked White, well aware that Davidson was shaking his head.

“What could I do?” replied Adams. “I was pissed off at myself for not realizing I had been followed. Chico was demanding I let him out of the car immediately, so I did. I knew he probably had a gun permit so I threw his gun as far into the desert as I could and drove away. Last I saw of him he was walking over to get it. I don’t know what happened after that.”

“So you actually expect me to believe you being there was simply a coincidence with him being murdered by someone else?” said Davidson, while fighting to control his anger.

“Could be a coincidence, or maybe they thought he ratted and killed him for talking to me. Another scenario is he was collecting money from pimps in El Paso. I only took his gun. I didn’t bother with his wallet so I don’t know how much cash he had. The guys who followed us out there might have decided to use the opportunity to rob him.”

“No way that happened!” yelled Davidson. “You were in a fit of rage over what they did to your partner and you took him out into the desert and murdered him. Admit it!”

“I’ll admit I was outraged,” Adams replied calmly. “I have also offered you alternative possibilities to what you had thought happened. If you are going to question me any further, then I want an attorney present.”

Davidson and White watched Adams stalk out of the office.

“He’s guilty as sin,” said Davidson. “I don’t believe his story of a second car one bit.”

“I agree with you, but it would sure leave doubt in a jury’s mind. We would never get a conviction.”

“Then we’ll get more evidence. There is no way we can let him get away with it.”

White sat forward with his elbow on the desk and stroked his chin a moment, before asking, “Is he known to be a hard drinker?”

“Not particularly,” replied Davidson.

“I could smell the booze on him as soon as he walked in,” noted White. “He’s under enormous pressure right now.”

“Good point. I bet he cracks soon,” replied Davidson. “All good cops who fuck up eventually do. Their conscience gets to them.”

“Time to find out what makes him tick and figure out what the best plan of attack will be,” said White. “I would think a full psychological profile is in order.”

“I’ll get hold of the criminal profilers.”

“With what has happened, do you expect him to be transferred?”

“Without his confession, it puts his agency in an embarrassing position. If they transfer him it will imply to the Mexicans he is being relocated to protect him. They may think we are condoning what he did.”

“But if he isn’t moved, the cartel may kill him,” noted White.

“That would save everyone a lot of embarrassment,” replied Davidson evenly.

chapter thirteen

It was Thursday afternoon when Corporal Connie Crane called Jack to say she had met with a Crown prosecutor.

“Here it is in a nutshell,” said Connie. “If a judge thinks you have used too much intimidation, then whatever Slater may tell you would be inadmissible against him at any criminal proceedings. However, if what you are told assists us in investigating other players, then you might be able to go after them. Of course, if that happened, we still couldn’t enter any of Slater’s admissions.”

“What about calling him as a witness if he knows something? Threaten him with perjury if he doesn’t tell the truth.”

“You wouldn’t be able to enter evidence to prove he was lying. If you tried, a judge might say it puts justice into disrepute and toss the whole case.”

“So we can use Slater as a stepping stone, but even if he incriminates himself we still have to send him on his way with a get out of jail free card.”

“I think you got it.”

“Want me to go for it?”

“Yeah, we’ve got nothing else. Wilson’s in agree-ment. Both of us think he knows something about her disappearance, but we don’t think he is a hands-on kind of guy. If you think you can pull off some tough-guy scenario to get him to talk, go for it.”

“I’ll let you know how it goes. It may take a couple of days.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“Why?”

“Because if you were using pliers it wouldn’t take that long.”

An hour after talking with Connie, Jack visited The Racquet Club. After a quick tour, he accepted an offer of a free pass used as a promotion to entice people to buy a membership. He was glad to see the customers used padlocks to secure their storage lockers. His ability to pick locks would make that step of his undercover plan easy.

The hardest job would be finding a remote spot and digging a grave that wouldn’t be discovered. For that, he found a construction site where the workers got weekends off.

On Friday afternoon, Jack called Sammy in Drug Section. “Hey, are you still hiding that ugly face of yours with a beard?” asked Jack.

“I only have a goatee now. What’s up, Jack?”

“A goatee is good. Need a small favour for a quick UC.”

“Yeah? How quick? Last time I agreed to do something for you, I ended up sitting in a bar so you could burn me to get the bad guys to trust you.”

“That worked well.”

“For you, yeah. Me, I could have been shot.”

“Never took you for a whiner.”

“A whiner? Up yours!” Sammy chuckled. “What do you need?”

“I need you to stand on a sidewalk and phone me when some guy arrives and asks for me. I’ll know when he’s arriving so you’ll only have to be there for a few minutes.”

“Sounds easy enough. Beats being in a doper bar like last time. When do you want to do it?”

“Tomorrow around supper time.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday … yeah, okay. Where at?”

“Do you know where the west-side chapter clubhouse for Satans Wrath is?”

“Oh, fuck …”

chapter fourteen

On Saturday morning, Jack awoke to the sound of Natasha singing to Mikey. She was lying on her back in bed beside him, but holding the baby up above her chest with her hands around his waist. Her voice was soft and sweet.

“Michael Edward Taggart … you’re our little boy. Michael Edward Taggart, you’re our pride and joy. Michael Edward Taggart, you’re such a little clown. Michael Edward Taggart, you’re fun to have around!” With this last comment she stretched her arms high and pretended to let Mikey drop.

Mikey’s bright eyes, coupled with his smile and bubbly giggle, begged for more.

Jack smiled to himself as he lay there. Life can be so good.

It was a special moment locked in time. One that would later come back to haunt Jack at the most dire moment of his life.

“He’s a very happy kid,” said Jack, as Natasha lay Mikey on her chest.

“Do you think so?” asked Natasha, turning to stare at Jack.

“Are you kidding? Look at him. He’s always giggling. Look at his eyes. So full of life.”

“I am looking. I think he just fell asleep.”

Natasha made a pretext of looking at Mikey and said, “Probably because he’s bored.”

“Bored? He’s not even seven months old.”

Natasha smiled at Jack and said, “He needs a baby sister or baby brother to play with.”

“It has only been a couple of weeks since we started trying. All in good time.”

“Boy, are you slow this morning. Don’t you know when I’m giving you a nudge?” she said, before kissing Jack on the side of his neck.

Jack scrambled out of bed, gently picked up Mikey and raced down the hall to place him in his crib.

“I take it that was enough of a nudge,” Natasha said, laughing as Jack ran back into their bedroom.

“You want to see a nudge? I’ll show you a nudge,” he replied, leaping back into bed.

Later that afternoon Natasha saw a hard look come over Jack’s face moments before he slipped on a black Harley Davidson T-shirt and left for work. She knew he was psychologically preparing himself for a role of some sort, but she didn’t like it. He didn’t look like the man she married and it scared her.

It was five o’clock when Slater walked out of The Racquet Club and got in his car. Ten minutes later, he received a call on his cellphone.

“Yeah, is this Clive Slater?” asked Jack.

“Who wants to know?” replied Slater.

“The guy who found his wallet.”

“What? … Jesus! I didn’t even know it was missing.”

“I found it in the dressing room at The Racquet Club. They gave me your number. Looks like you got about eight hundred bucks in it, along with your credit cards.”

“I’m not far away. I’ll be right there.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had just left. I’m already in my car and am late for a meeting. Guess I could have left it at the club, but I’m not the trusting type so they gave me your number. My name’s Jack. I’ll give ya the address of where I’ll be if ya want to slide by and pick it up. Otherwise, maybe in a couple of days we can get together.”

“No, no. God, no. I need it. I’ll come right away. Thanks a million.”

Forty minutes later, Slater’s sense of relief at being able to retrieve his wallet was replaced by a feeling of dread as he arrived at the address he was given. A high chain-link fence protected a yard full of Harley Davidsons. Keep Out signs, security cameras, coupled with a well-known logo and an emblazoned sign reading SATANS WRATH told him he was in dangerous territory.

Slater slowed his car to a crawl as he drove by. A menacing-looking man with a goatee was strolling toward him up the sidewalk, but stopped when he saw Slater and stood with his arms folded across his chest glaring at him. Slater lowered his window and said, “Excuse me, uh, sir. Do you know if there is a guy by the name of Jack around?”

“Yeah,” replied Sammy. “He said someone was coming by. Hang on. I’ll put a call in.”

Slater stopped his car on the street and listened as Sammy used his cellphone.

“This is the guard at the north side,” said Sammy. “Tell Jack there is some guy here to see him.” Sammy paused a moment and said, “Yeah, I’ll tell him,” he added, before hanging up. Sammy looked at Slater. “Go down the block, take your first left and find a place to park and wait in your car. He’ll be out in a minute.”

Slater breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing he wanted to do was go inside the compound, or worse yet, inside the clubhouse.

Sammy waited until Slater had turned the corner before hustling off in the opposite direction, all too aware that the hum of moving security cameras told him it was time to leave.

Moments later, Slater saw Jack approach and tap on his passenger window while holding his wallet up for him to see. Slater lowered the window.

“Unlock the door,” said Jack. “There is something we need to discuss.”

“Of course.” He wants a reward, thought Slater, unlocking the door.

Jack got in and handed him his wallet. Slater quickly flipped it open and smiled when he saw that his money and credit cards were all there.

“Thanks a bunch,” Slater said. “You’re a great guy to be returning it, especially with all this money. Most guys wouldn’t. Let me give you a reward for all your trouble,” he added, fishing a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet.

“Fuck that,” said Jack gruffly. “I don’t need your money. Besides, I’m not really that great. I actually stole your wallet.”

“What? Why? Oh, you’re joking,” replied Slater, giving a nervous smile.

“Does this look like a fuckin’ joke?” replied Jack, flipping open his jacket to reveal a pistol stuck in the front of his pants. “I did it to get you down here. Easier than taking you away from The Racquet Club.”

“But why?” stammered Slater as Jack put his hand on the pistol’s handgrip. “I haven’t done anything to you guys. I’m not even in any gangs or anything. Whoever you’re after … you’ve got the wrong guy!”

“No, we know we got the right guy, so shut up and listen. I know you’re a businessman, so let me try to put it into words you’ll understand. We distribute a product. You’re competition. You must have heard of a hostile takeover. Consider this it.”

“What product? I don’t understand!” cried Slater.

“A very white product,” said Jack, putting his thumbnail up to his nose and pretending to snort.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Slater.

Jack sighed and said, “Okay, I can see you’re not stupid. That’s good. Now I want you to take me for a little drive. I’ve got something to show you. It could actually save your life. You don’t want to end up like your buddy Earl.”

“That was you guys!” exclaimed Slater.

“Who the fuck did you think it was?”

“T-O’s guys,” blurted Slater. “I mean, I don’t know.”

“Who the fuck is T-O?”

“Oh, fuck …”

“I’m not asking you again,” yelled Jack. “Who the fuck is T-O?”

“Nobody I’ve met,” Slater hastened to say. “Just someone Earl owed money to.”

“Well, it wasn’t us who whacked Earl. We were going to offer him the same deal as you.”

“A deal? What deal? I don’t understand. If Earl was involved with you guys or something, I didn’t know anything about it. I’m just a businessman. I don’t —”

“Yeah, I know. Like I said, we’re businessmen, too. So start driving. I’ve got something to show you to convince you we know a little more than you think.”

“Can’t you just tell me? I mean —”

“It’s something you need to experience and see to believe. Don’t worry, if we were going to kill you, you would already be dead and this class-act set of wheels you got would already be on a freighter bound for Russia.”

chapter fifteen

The sun was going down and elongated shadows from the trees cast darkened silhouettes over mounds of dirt gouged out of a forest on the side of a mountain. For now, only the pits in the earth marked where the cement would be poured to make basements for a new residential pocket of homes.

It wasn’t the cold that caused Slater to shake as he parked beside the construction trailer.

“Get out,” ordered Jack. “What I got to show you is on the other side of the trailer.”

“I don’t like this,” whined Slater. “I feel really uncomfortable. Can’t we talk in the car?”

“Uncomfortable? See how uncomfortable you feel after a bullet rips through your kidneys!” roared Jack, pulling out his pistol.

Slater automatically lurched back, pressing himself so hard against the driver’s door it looked like he was moulded into it. His eyes closed and his face crinkled, expecting to be shot.

“Jesus, fuck! Stop acting like that,” said Jack. “If I wanted you dead, I’d shoot you now. I only want to talk to you. We’ve got a business proposition for you. Hand me the keys, too. I don’t want you trying to fuck off and leave me here.”

Slater opened his eyes and tried to calm himself as he fumbled the keys out of the ignition. As soon as he did, Jack snatched them out of his hand and said, “Now get out! I’m not tellin’ ya again!”

Slater got out of the car and tried to convince himself Jack only wanted to talk to him, but his fear increased dramatically when, a few minutes later, he found himself with Jack looking down at a dug-out basement.

“Climb down,” ordered Jack. “What I got to show you is alongside those footings on the far side.”

Slater squinted into the darkness, but all he could see were wooden frames filled with rebar left in preparation to pour cement. A nudge from the barrel of a pistol in his back convinced him not to argue. Once they had descended into the pit, Jack prodded Slater over to a waist-deep, grave-sized hole dug in the ground and said, “Get in!”

“You are going to kill me! You said you weren’t!” cried Slater.

“Yeah, I know,” said Jack, shoving Slater into the hole.

Slater landed on his feet with his arms draped over the far side of the grave. He spun around and pleaded, “Please, don’t. If you want money, I can get —”

“Sorry I lied about not killing you,” said Jack. “I’ve been known to do that sometimes. I know it’s a terrible habit, but I thought it was easier than dragging you.”

“Please … don’t …”

“Fuck, I knew it,” said Jack, “look at that. “Will you look at that?”

“What?” cried Slater.

“How tall are you?”

“What? I’m —”

“This hole ain’t nearly deep enough. I told the guys to dig it deeper. Jesus fuck, why is it if you want something done right, you’ve always gotta do it yourself?”

“Please! Listen to me. I can get my hands on a lot of money. Don’t kill me.”

Jack reached for a shovel stuck in the mound of dirt dug from the grave and tossed it into the hole beside Slater. “Tell ya what. You dig the hole deeper for me and then I promise to make it quick and clean. You won’t feel a thing. Otherwise I’ll gut shoot you and let you crawl around for half an hour while I dig. Then if ya haven’t already bled out, I’ll bury ya alive.”

“Oh, God, no!” cried Slater.

“Is it a deal?” asked Jack, trying to sound hopeful.

“Please, don’t!”

“Start digging. I’m going to talk to you about something. Maybe how you answer might make me change my mind.”

Slater picked up the shovel and started to dig. He believed he was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. All hope was gone and his brain was going numb and shutting down to protect him from the horror he faced.

Jack’s cellphone rang. The call display told him it was Natasha. He could have ignored the call, but decided Slater needed more convincing and knew every minute the scenario dragged on would seem like an eternity to Slater.

“I’m going to take this call, don’t move,” ordered Jack.

Slater’s foot was poised in the air over the shovel and he literally did not move.

“Hi, what’s up?” asked Jack, stepping back to ensure Slater could not overhear his wife’s voice.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” asked Natasha.

“No, it’s not a bad time. I’m just standing around waiting for a guy.”

“I was just phoning to talk. I think Mikey is getting a cold. I might put the vaporizer in his room for tonight.”

“Did you say you want me to vaporize him or not?” asked Jack, knowing Slater could hear. “The phone keeps cutting out. If I lose your call I guess I’ll just do it.”

“No, I said I would do it,” said Natasha.

“Hello? Hello? Are you there?”

“Yes, I’m here, Jack. I can hear you fine.”

“Oh … I can hear you now.”

“Your voice sounds funny … is somebody there listening?”

“You got it.”

“I see. Can you give me any idea when you’re coming home?”

“I’ve still got a big pile of work to shovel through, but it shouldn’t take long.”

“With you, I don’t know if you mean that figuratively or literally,” replied Natasha.

Jack smiled to himself. He and Natasha had been through a lot together. More than a husband should ever ask of his wife.

As Jack talked, he stared at the man in the hole in front of him. He knew Slater did not need further convincing. He had gone into a catonic state. His foot was still poised in the air over the shovel.

Paralyzed by fear was something Jack thought was only an expression. It wasn’t. Slater stood as rigid as a mannequin. I wonder how he can do that without falling over? He spoke a moment longer to Natasha and then hung up.

“Okay,” said Jack, turning his attention to Slater. “Where were we? Oh, yeah, I was going to tell you whether or not you live is entirely up to you. Like I said, we have a proposition for you. If you want to go into business with us, everything will work out great. If you don’t, well, I think you get the picture. Where you’re standing is the experience I said you needed to have. Talking about it isn’t the same. Don’t you agree?”

Slater gawked up at him, but didn’t reply.

“You listening to me?” yelled Jack.

Slater nodded and slowly put his foot down.

“You can start by telling me all about your organization,” said Jack.

“It’s not really mine,” Slater heard himself say. “It’s the Mexicans. I only work for them.” He thought his voice sounded far away and wondered if he was having an out-of-body experience. Am I already dead? “T-O is the real boss,” he heard his voice say. It was as if his words were coming out independently of his brain. “Earl and I run the money back,” his voice continued.

“Back where?”

“To El Paso. T-O’s guys come across the border from Juarez and take it from there.”

“And the coke?” asked Jack.

“Earl and I never had anything to do with that. We were to stay clear of the coke and strictly handle the money. T-O likes to keep it separate.”

“And who is T-O?”

Slater worked up the courage and nervously looked down at his feet, then gave a sigh of relief and started to cry.

“Why the fuck are you looking in the bottom of the hole? Don’t even think about trying to whack me with that shovel!”

“I wasn’t … I was afraid … I thought I might see my body laying there.”

“What the fuck? How could your body be laying there? You’re standing! Are you stoned?”

“No, I just —”

“Shut the fuck up and tell me who T-O is!”

“I’ve never met him!” he cried.

“Quit your fuckin’ bawlin’! It pisses me off!” Jack waited a moment for Slater to regain his composure. “Tell me how you know T-O.”

Slater wiped his face with his sleeve. “I met the guys who work for him. I’ve heard one of them mention his name whenever he calls him. I can tell T-O’s the boss by how respectful the guy sounds when he talks to him.”

“And how did you meet his guys?”

“Some of T-O’s other guys approached Earl and me at a nightclub in Vancouver. At first we thought they were bullshitting about paying us to make trips, but then they offered us half the cash up front for the first delivery.”

“And you think T-O whacked Earl?”

“Yes, well, his guys did.”

“His guys from Canada?”

“No, I know they were sending a couple guys up from Mexico. Professionals.”

Professionals? thought Jack. Professionals don’t sneer into the cameras. More likely they were expendables …

“They didn’t want to risk drawing any attention to the guys who are already settled in Canada,” continued Slater.

“So they whacked their own mule,” noted Jack. “What did he do, steal their money?”

“Not intentionally. Earl has … had a gambling problem. While he was waiting in El Paso for T-O’s guys to show up, he hit some casino, lost his own money, and dipped into theirs.”

El Paso! Please don’t tell me the asshole took Lily to El Paso …

“Things went from bad to worse and he ended up losing most of it,” continued Slater.

“So then what, he just came back to Canada?”

“Not right away. He switched motels and then went back to the casino hoping to make a million out of about twenty grand. He lost that and then called me from the casino in a panic. When I was on the line with him, one of T-O’s guys called me, as well. I put Earl on hold and well, you know, I had to look after myself.”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“I know better than to fuck with the Mexicans. I told Earl to go back to his motel and everything would be okay, that I would help him straighten it out. I then told T-O’s guys where Earl was and what motel he was staying at with his girlfriend.”

His girlfriend … he did take her there. Jack resisted the urge to jump in the hole and take out his frustration by choking Slater around the neck and shaking him the way a pit bull shakes a rat. He knew if he was to play his role properly, he would have to pretend he was not particularly interested in any girlfriend Porter would have had. “Was this motel right at the casino?” Jack asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

“No, I don’t think so. I can’t remember the name of it.”

“So you ratted out your friend … you’re a real stand-up kind of guy.”

“I had no choice. If they ever found out I lied to them, I’d be dead, too. I knew Earl was already a dead man … whether he knew it or not. Guess he figured it out when he drove into the motel parking lot and spotted T-O’s guys waiting for him. He spun a donut and fucked off back to Canada.”

“What about his girlfriend?”

“Oh, I’m sure T-O’s guys killed her, too.”

You’re probably right … “Didn’t want to leave any loose ends.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

Was Lily as straight as Marcie thought she was? “Guess nobody told her if you fly with the crows, you should expect to get shot.”

“Well … she didn’t really know what was going on. Earl had given her some bullshit story they were going to Texas to party with some business associates and then stop in Vegas on the way home and get married.”

Aw crap … the poor kid. “He was going to marry her?”

“He told me it was the only way he could get in her pants. I don’t think he planned on being married long.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” said Jack, bitterly. “Wish I had gotten to know him on a personal level.”

“Well, he couldn’t risk going to the cops or they might have busted him for being a runner.”

“So you sold out Earl and his girlfriend both,” said Jack, eyeballing Slater’s throat while subconsciously tightening the muscles in his fingers.

“It’s not my fault. I had no choice. I feel bad about it, but a guy has to look after himself.”

“Yeah, for sure. Now start digging again.”

“What! I thought we had a deal?”

“Shut the fuck up and dig.”

“Please let me talk. I could make you rich. I’m supposed to make a trip down there within the next two weeks. You can take the cash. I’ll say I was robbed. Beat me up or something …”

“Oh, believe me, tearing you to pieces does appeal to me,” replied Jack. He took a deep breath, slowly exhaled and said, “How much cash we talkin’?”

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s over a million.”

“What do ya mean, ya don’t know? You’re the one who delivers it.”

“Besides my car, I have a pickup truck they gave me. The paperwork makes it look like I bought the truck in the States, but it didn’t cost me a dime. In it is a secret hiding spot. If you adjust the knobs on the dash a certain way, a hydraulic system raises a fake deck up in the back of the truck.”

“So the truck has a duplicate deck in the back … a fake one over top of the original one?”

“Yes, exactly. I haul a minimum of a million with each trip. Sometimes more. I’ve never had the nerve to count it all myself, but I’ve seen them unload it at the trailer.”

“At the trailer?”

“Before, in El Paso, we used to have to drive the money way to hell and gone out into the desert to some mobile trailer where they would unload it. I don’t think they use it anymore. On this last trip they told Earl to stay at some motel outside of El Paso and call them. Then T-O’s guys were to come and take him and the truck to someplace in Juarez.”

“When do they put the money into your truck?”

“The day before I go, one of T-O’s guys borrows it from me for a couple of hours and then brings it back. My job is to drive it down to El Paso. I get paid forty grand a trip. I’m supposed to go in another week or two. I haven’t been told an exact date yet.”

“Sounds interesting. Keep digging while I try to decide what to do.”

Slater dug for another couple of minutes before Jack cooled off enough to stop enjoying the vengeance and get back to the task at hand. “Okay, I was just fucking with you. I wanted to make sure you got the point to never fuck with me. Climb out of there and refill the hole.”

Slater started to weep. “Really?”

“Yeah, really. I got some things to tell you, but I don’t have all night, so hurry up.” Jack reached out his hand and Slater took it to help himself climb out.

Jack waited as Slater, who had discovered new energy, quickly started to refill the hole. “First thing I’m going to tell you,” said Jack, “is never tell anyone … and I mean anyone, about tonight.”

“I won’t. Just … thank you for not killing me.”

“Yeah, I’ve always thought of myself as a good guy, although some might disagree.” Jack remained quiet until Slater had refilled the hole and said, “¿Habla usted español?”

“What? No. Just gracias.”

“For a guy who hangs out with Mexicans, you really are a dumb fuck. The Spanish word for uncle is tio. It sounds like T-O. The guy you were listening to was talking to his uncle.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“For now, we will still call him Tio … but I want to meet him in person. You need to arrange it.”

“Why? I mean … after tonight, I don’t want anything to do with this business. I’m quitting. You guys don’t need to look at me as competition anymore.”

“We don’t give a rat’s ass about you. This is about Tio. We want to go into business with him. Once you introduce him to me, you can jump off a bridge for all I care, but until then, you better do what we want. We know the Mexicans have been sellin’ coke on the streets cheaper than ours. That means they’re getting it at a way cheaper price than we’ve been getting from the fuckin’ Colombians. Get word to Tio we handle about three or four ton a year. That should spark his interest.”

“Okay, sure, I’ll contact one of his guys and let him know.”

Jack had a major concern. He knew permission to go to Ciudad Juarez, Mexico, would never be approved because the police there were too corrupt and it would be deemed too dangerous. He would have to try and convince Tio to come to the U.S.

“There is one other thing Tio needs to know,” said Jack. “I was in Mexico about a year ago and got into a little shit and used a chair to lay a beating on a couple of Federales who tried to arrest me. I think one guy was hurt real bad. I don’t know how the situation stands for me there now. Tell Tio I want to meet him on the U.S. side of the border.” Jack felt it was a lame excuse, but at the moment he couldn’t think of anything better.

Jack, carrying the shovel, returned with Slater to the car where they continued to talk some more. Jack also had him go over the details again. His purpose was not only to ensure he had been given the correct information, but it was to give Slater a chance to calm down before driving.

Jack also used the opportunity to impress upon Slater the need for secrecy and told him that even with other members of Satans Wrath, it was still on a need-to-know basis.

It was midnight when Jack had Slater drive him back and park a block away from the Satans Wrath clubhouse.

“Here is good,” said Jack. “I don’t want you ever coming here again. The cops monitor our clubhouse a lot. I don’t want them, or anyone else knowing we’re connected. It will be safer for everyone in the long run.”

“What about the cellphone number you gave me? Is it cool?”

“I don’t trust any phone. If you call me, simply say you’re interested in a game of squash and we can meet at The Racquet Club.”

“Okay.”

“How long do you think it will be before you hear back from Tio?”

“I don’t know. I’ll call my contact tomorrow morning. After that I’ll have to wait. It might only take a few minutes for them to pass it on to Tio, or maybe it could take a couple of days. I’ve never spoken to Tio. I just know he’s the big boss. I have no control over him.”

“Understood, but make sure Tio knows we are his equals. I won’t deal with some peon over this matter.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll know that. Everybody in the world knows about you guys.”

Jack thought about asking Slater who his contact in Canada was, along with the names of his contacts in El Paso, but he knew to push for more information now might raise suspicion. All in good time …

“I expect you to get on it immediately.”

“I will, but, uh, if he isn’t interested, I mean, you know, I’ll tell him he could make a lot of money through you guys, but, what if —”

“If he turns us down, we would consider it a declaration of war,” snarled Jack.

“Oh,” replied Slater softly. “I’ll do my best.”

“I’m sure you will. I’ll come by your place at noon to see how you made out. And like I said before, we don’t want anyone to know we are thinking of going in with the Mexicans. For now, I will be the only contact. We don’t want word of this getting out.”

“I won’t tell a soul.”

“Make sure you tell your Mexican contacts to keep their mouths shut and only deal through me, as well. At least for now.”

Jack checked his watch as he drove home. He knew it was too late to be checking with the American authorities in El Paso to see if they had any recent unidentified female bodies.

And if they don’t have any recent bodies from a motel … then where is she?

_____

chapter sixteen

Jack arrived home and checked on Mikey, who was asleep in his crib. He then stuck his head in his own bedroom.

“You’re home,” murmured Natasha, awakened by the door opening.

“Home, but not done. I’ve got a couple hours of notes to do. How is Mikey?”

“He’s okay. I think he’s better.”

Jack took off his gun and put it on his dresser. He would have talked some more, but Natasha’s breathing told him she had gone back to sleep. He went to the den and made notes about what he had learned.

Tomorrow morning he would call CC and meet with her and Wilson, but first there was something else he wanted to check.

Jack had heard for years about the hundreds of women who were disappearing or being found murdered around Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. He turned on his computer to search the Web.

It didn’t take long to find a mass of material relating to the missing women. There had been hundreds. In a few instances there had been arrests, with a few bus drivers being implicated, but for the most part it was a war zone.

Armed cartel members kidnapped women in broad daylight without fear of repercussion. A few were unceremoniously dumped back on the street a day or two later, but many others were murdered and found in shallow graves or laying in drainage ditches outside the city. One woman was found with one breast cut off with a knife and the other bitten off.

Jack sighed and turned the computer off and went to bed. As he lay there, he thought about Slater and his admission that he told the Mexicans where Lily Rae was. He knew there was nothing he could legally do to Slater over what he had been told and the frustration burned inside him.

He did not want to think about what had happened to a naive young girl from Canada by the name of Lily Rae. He did not want to think about it … but he did.

It was a long night.

Probably should have killed the bastard …

Slater’s night was worse. He went home and saw his girlfriend sitting on the sofa watching a movie.

“Where the fuck were you?” she yelled. “You couldn’t even bother to call me?”

“I was busy. I forgot to phone you.”

“You were too busy to take a minute and call me? What was her name?”

“I wasn’t with a girl.”

“Yeah, I just bet you … fuck! Look at you! I can believe you weren’t with a girl. Maybe a pig. You got dirt all over you. What were you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You were doing something. God, you stink, too. What was it?”

“I met some guy. We did a lot of talking.”

“How did you get so dirty?”

“I fell in a hole. We were walking and I fell in.”

“So you were stoned.”

“No, it just happened.”

“Well it sure as hell is too late to go to dinner now. Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Your voice sounds weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“Monotone. You remind me of my grade eight history teacher.”

“I’m tired.”

“Me too. But I’m also fuckin’ hungry.”

“How about I make you an omelette?”

“Yeah, okay … but shower first. You really reek of B-O.”

Later, Slater went to the kitchen in his bathrobe and opened a carton of eggs.

“So who was this guy you spent all night talking to?” his girlfriend asked.

“Just somebody I met. It’s business. I can’t talk about it,” replied Slater.

“That’s what you always say when you don’t want to explain what you’ve been up to. Hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I really get the feeling you’re shovelling me a load of crap.”

Apparently Slater did mind. A hysterical cry emitted from his mouth and he repeatedly grabbed at the eggs with both hands, squeezing and crushing them as the broken bits of eggshell and yolk ran through his fingers.

chapter seventeen

It was nine o’clock Sunday morning when Connie Crane and Wilson arrived together at Jack’s office.

“Well, we’re here,” said Connie. “When you called this morning, you woke me up. You did say Slater spilled his guts to you and we needed to talk. I heard right, didn’t I? At first I thought I was dreaming.”

“You weren’t dreaming,” replied Jack.

“Yeah? Well it better be good. Today would have been my first day off in two weeks.”

“I don’t know if it’s good news,” replied Jack, “but it’s informative. Yesterday I met him through The Racquet Club and pretended to be a member of Satans Wrath. I said we had a business proposition for him.”

“You told him you were with the club and he believed you?” asked Connie.

“I had him swing by the clubhouse after to meet me. I used Sammy from Drug Section in a quick UC to direct him down the street and park. I then sat in his car with him and he presumed I came out of the clubhouse.”

“Pretty smooth,” chuckled Wilson. “Better hope Satans Wrath never finds out.”

Jack nodded in agreement.

“So what did you say to him?” asked Connie.

“I offered him a chance to go into business together.”

“With Satans Wrath?” exclaimed Wilson. “What if he goes to them looking for you?”

“I am a little concerned about that,” admitted Jack. “When I used the ruse on him, I didn’t expect it would turn into any long-term project. I was hoping a day or two would be all we needed to find Lily.”

“So your cover story may not hold up for long,” noted Wilson.

“For the short term I feel comfortable with it. I made a point of telling Slater to only deal with me. I’ve got a feeling he will do what I tell him.”

“So then he opened up to you?” asked Connie, suspiciously. “He trusted you just like that?”

“Are you kidding? He was practically on his knees begging to work with me.”

Connie stared at Jack, then opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind.

“So, let me tell you what I learned,” continued Jack.

Over the next half hour, Connie and Wilson each jotted down notes as Jack outlined what he had learned from Slater.

“I would never have believed he would open up so quickly upon meeting you,” said Wilson. “You must have been pretty convincing.”

“I guess he thought so.”

“From what you have said, it sounded like the two of you had a really amiable conversation,” said Connie, watching Jack closely. “Maybe we could use his admission against him as evidence.”

“Uh …”

“Or when you said he was practically on his knees begging, should I take that literally?”

“Well, it was sort of literal,” admitted Jack.

“Christ! I thought so! What did you do to the poor son of a bitch?”

“What do you mean the poor son of a bitch?” growled Jack. “He doesn’t deserve any pity. He set up Porter to be killed … which personally I am quite happy about, but he also set up Lily.”

“But what did you —”

“Anything I did to him was strictly psychological,” responded Jack, tersely. “I didn’t hurt him physically. That’s all you need to know.”

“I think that’s all I want to know,” replied Connie, quietly.

“However you did it, your information is a huge lead,” said Wilson. “I really appreciate it. With what we saw in the apartment security cameras it fits. I think Slater was being truthful to you.”

“Oh, I’m sure he was,” replied Jack. “He knows he’d be digging himself a hole he couldn’t get out of if he was lying to Satans Wrath.”

“And he thinks Tio sent a hit team up from Mexico, whacked Porter, and then skedaddled back to Mexico?” noted Wilson.

“That’s what Slater believes. He says Tio does have Mexicans living here and distributing cocaine, but after Porter fled from the motel, one of Tio’s men called and told him they were going to send a team up to Canada to take care of Porter. Also explains why the killers didn’t worry about the security cameras. I bet they headed south the same day.”

“We still have both of Porter’s vehicles impounded,” said Wilson. “I’ll get the mechanics to take another look at his truck. See if it has a secondary deck in the back.”

“Too bad you didn’t know what motel Lily Rae was in at the time,” said Connie. “Might have given us more of a lead if she was taken someplace else to be killed.”

“Let’s hope she hasn’t been murdered,” said Jack quietly.

“And from how these guys operate,” said Wilson, “if they were going to kill her, I don’t see them as the type to worry about hiding any bodies. At least, not driving a victim out to … how did Slater put it? A trailer?”

“Way to hell and gone out into the desert to some mobile trailer,” said Jack.

“Exactly,” said Connie. “If she’s dead, the U.S. probably already has her body. I’ll get on the horn today with the FBI and whatever other law enforcement agencies they have down there. Let’s see if they have any unidentified victims who match Lily’s description.” She looked at Jack and added, “Not that I’m giving up hope. Just doing my job.”

“I know,” said Jack. “It’s also Sunday morning. What do you think your chances are of finding out today?”

“Let’s find out,” said Connie.

Everyone was quiet as Connie started making phone calls, first to the FBI, then the state police, Texas Rangers, and finally the El Paso Police Department.

Her responses were much the same. Nobody was aware, offhand, of any victims fitting Lily’s description, but each suggested it would be better to go through channels on Monday when the regular staff were on duty and could give a more informed answer.

It gave the Canadian investigators some sense of hope.

Over the next two hours, Jack, Connie, and Wilson completed reports, along with an operational plan to be approved by the brass. The basis for the plan rested on an attached report submitted by Jack that said while acting in an undercover capacity and portraying an image of an outlaw biker, he had befriended Clive Slater. His report then listed what Slater had told him.

Connie reviewed Jack’s report and said, “You befriended him?”

“I’ve never met anyone who wanted so badly to be my friend,” replied Jack.

“Yeah, I can only imagine. Would you mind if I added that Slater possibly might have felt intimidated by your role and the Crown would no doubt feel a conviction against him would be unlikely?”

“Knowing our justice system as I do, what you just said sounds most probable.” Jack lowered his voice, cupped a hand to the side of his mouth and in a staged whisper added, “I did yell at him.”

“Got a feeling that’s not all you did,” she replied, going back to work on the operational plan. When she was finished, the plan called for:

- Jack’s undercover scenario to continue in the hope of identifying Tio and perhaps some of the men who worked for him in Canada. If Jack’s undercover role led to the identification of Tio and his men, then his UC role would be finished unless circumstances indicated Jack might be successful in finding Lily Rae or her body.

- Permission for Jack to go to El Paso was requested should it be deemed necessary, along with a request the Americans be asked through the appropriate channels to provide assistance for his protection should that happen.

- That the Vancouver RCMP Drug Section work jointly on the project to take over the drug-trafficking aspect of the investigation.

- That Drug Section and Proceeds of Crime investigators would likely be required to travel to El Paso to gather evidence to support cocaine importation and money-laundering charges against the people in Canada. Should that be necessary, they would submit their own request in due course, while still bearing in mind their evidence might be needed to explain the motive behind Porter’s murder at a trial in Canada. It was stressed the investigators from the different units would need to work closely together.

- It was further recommended that if the two suspects on the security camera in Porter’s apartment were identified and arrested in El Paso, then permission was requested for Connie and Wilson to travel to El Paso to work with the American authorities and take part in any interrogations. Extradition proceeding would also be initiated.

- If it was learned that Lily Rae was murdered in El Paso, the United States would deal with it as it would be in their jurisdiction. In this case, Connie and Wilson would also work with the Amer-ican investigators, as evidence obtained in Canada concerning Porter’s murder might be needed in the United States or visa versa. The Canadian investigators would also look into the possibility that the U.S. judicial system might allow for Slater to be used as a probable hostile witness at criminal proceedings in the U.S.

It was noon when Jack went over to Slater’s apartment and buzzed the intercom.

“Who is it?” asked a female voice.

“My name is Jack. I’m, uh, Clive’s friend. Is he in?”

“You’re his friend? Good, then come on up.”

Minutes later, Jack was let into Slater’s apartment by a young woman.

“Is he here?” asked Jack.

“Fuck, no.”

“Do you —”

“I don’t know where he is. He took off this morning. If you’re his friend you can hang around and tell him it’s over between us. I’m splitting,” she said, stomping into the bedroom where she continued to throw clothes into a suitcase on the bed.

“Any idea when he might be back?” asked Jack.

“Nope and I don’t care. The guy’s a fuckin’ nutcase.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, for starters, he came home last night all covered in dirt and then had a meltdown.”

“A meltdown?”

“Oh, yeah. A real doozie. He started smashing eggs and crying like a baby. I took him to the hospital and some shrink talked to him for an hour.”

“Really? I wonder what that was all about? Did he say?”

“No, he wouldn’t talk to the shrink … or to me. They gave him some pills to take, which he wouldn’t, so I end up driving him back home at four o’clock this morning. Then at eight he tells me he’s going out. ‘It’s Sunday morning,’ I say. ‘Where ya going?’ Like that is too much to ask. He tells me it’s none of my fucking business. Well, you can tell him it really ain’t none of my fucking business because I’m done with him.”

Seconds later, Jack watched as she dragged the suitcase off the bed and stormed out of the apartment, leaving Jack alone.

Jack quickly locked the apartment door and started to search. He knew the search was illegal and anything he found would not be allowed as evidence, but decided as Slater already had a get-out-of-jail-free card, it really didn’t matter.

A short time later, he hauled what seemed like an empty suitcase down off a shelf in the closet. In and outside pocket of the suitcase he found a hand-drawn map. On it were the initials EP-W-CR14-12-U-L. Above the initial U was a string of dotted lines coming up to a pile of small lines in a haphazard pattern with an X over one of them.

Jack recalled the house trailer out in the desert that Slater had mentioned to him and speculated the map was instructions on how to get to it. Slater had told him he didn’t think the trailer was being used, but decided to copy it into his notebook, regardless. He had most of the pertinent details down when he heard the apartment door being unlocked.

Slater was startled to see Jack standing in the doorway to his kitchen.

“Your girlfriend let me in,” he explained. “She said to tell you she’s out of here. She packed a suitcase and just left. I’m surprised you didn’t bump into her in the hallway.”

“I couldn’t care less about her,” replied Slater.

“I was about to look and see if you had any coffee.”

“Yeah, I’ll get it,” replied Slater, walking into the kitchen and opening a cupboard.

“I understand you lost it when you got home last night.”

“Yeah, I guess. I’m okay now. I just, uh, never had that experience before.”

His words sounded robotic and his face was without emotion. Jack knew it would be a long time, if ever, before Slater would be okay. “So how did you make out this morning?” he asked.

“I think you guys should be happy,” replied Slater. “I met with my Canadian contact and told him what you told me to say. He made me wait while he emailed someone in a chat room who I guess then had to go to another computer and email someone else. Anyway, eventually the message was passed on to Tio. He had a couple of questions and we had to go through the whole process again, but in the end, he said he is willing to meet you in person.”

“I thought he would be,” replied Jack evenly, while controlling the excitement he felt. “What questions did he have?”

“He wanted to know how I met you, so … well, you said not to tell anyone about last night. So I lied to them and said I’ve known you all my life. I told them you were my cousin. Is that all right?”

“Yeah … it’s perfect. You did really well.” They’ll probably kill you for that later …

“He also wanted to know why I hadn’t mentioned you before. I said I had never said anything to him or you because I was afraid you guys would look at each other as competition. Then I said when you invited me over to the clubhouse yesterday, you mentioned you guys were really unhappy with the Colombians. I said I told you I knew a guy in Mexico who could help and that one thing led to another and you wanted to meet him.”

“Excellent. So when and where do I meet him?”

“He said you’re to go to El Paso. One week from Wednesday.”

“Ten days from now,” noted Jack. “I wonder why then and not sooner?”

“I think because I’m supposed to make a delivery down there at the same time. He said for us to check in at a place called the Armadillo Motel and he would arrange for you to see him.”

Arrange for me to see him? Tio doesn’t plan on coming to the motel … “Have you used that motel before?”

“Yes, it’s the one we always stay at. It’s where Earl was before he took off to another motel last time.”

“Which you can’t remember the name of.”

“I think it had the word Sunset in it. Why is it important?”

“We want to make sure you’re not bullshitting us on anything. The boys will be checking you out to make sure you’re not trying to set us up for a rip or anything. I was told to get details. Any little details that don’t jive … ”

“God, no! After last night … man, I wouldn’t lie to you about anything. I’m being totally straight with you.”

“Good. Keep it that way.”

“I will.” Slater paused for a moment, unsure what to say.

“What’s on your mind?” prodded Jack.

“About El Paso … I guess we can drive down together. It’s best to leave on the Sunday when there is lots of border traffic. Less chance of being checked.”

“Fuck that. I’m not some flunky. I’ll fly down and meet up with you.”

“Oh … yeah. I guess that would be better.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. It was not good news that the motel was one picked by Tio. It could mean they knew the owner and the presence of anyone there to assist Jack could put the investigation … and Jack, into jeopardy.

Let the games begin …

chapter eighteen

Monday morning was busy for Connie Crane. Given the short time frame, she classified her operational plan a priority and had it approved regionally before it was forwarded to Ottawa. She also made calls to the FBI and the DEA in El Paso. Neither agency had any concrete leads to identify Tio. There were lots of “uncles.”

The FBI said they would also check to see if any unidentified female bodies found in the area were a match to Lily Rae, as well as trying to locate the motel she had been taken from. Photos of the man who sneered at the apartment security camera were also transmitted to the FBI.

Wilson had news on two fronts. He said it took their mechanics five hours to figure it out, but by adjusting various knobs on the dash of Porter’s truck, a hydraulic system raised the rear deck of the pickup truck to reveal a hiding spot that was shallow, but took in an area almost as large as the box of the pickup itself. Plenty of room to hide a lot of money.

The second piece of news from Wilson was that enhancement of the security camera images from Porter’s apartment was not successful enough for positive identification of the second man, but it did show he was missing an earlobe.

Connie called Jack with the information and he quickly dubbed the second man Lobulo, after the Spanish word for lobe.

Connie sent an addendum to her operation plan, confirming the accuracy of the information Jack had received in regard to the hidden box on the truck, as well as forwarding Lobulo’s photo to the FBI.

Before the day was over, Connie heard back from the FBI. They had located a motel on the outskirts of El Paso called The Cactus Sunset. The owner said a young couple had checked into a room twelve days ago on a Wednesday night, under the name of J. Roberts from Kelowna, Canada, and paid cash for the room. The owner of the motel said they left behind two suitcases. One full of men’s clothes and the other woman’s clothes. Neither suitcase had any identification. The motel did record the licence plate number when they checked in.

The FBI had already run the plate. It was registered to Earl Porter. The FBI would continue their search for possible witnesses, although said it was the type of place where couples often used false names.

The FBI also confirmed that Lily Rae did not match any unidentified bodies. Given the short time frame involved and her long, red hair, she would easily stand out. They had also checked with local hospitals in the event she had been admitted in an unconscious state, but were told she hadn’t.

The FBI agent did note the Cactus Sunset Motel was located on the edge of a desert. Disposal of a body would be relatively easy and the wind would quickly cover any tire tracks.

At the RCMP headquarters in Ottawa, the prioritized operational plan was accepted with little fanfare. Requests for Canadian investigators to travel to the United States were a matter of routine and the U.S. was always quick to give permission. Given the short time frame when travel would be necessary, a reply from the U.S. was expected either that afternoon or Tuesday morning.

This time was different. Approval did not come through regular channels, but a response came late Tuesday afternoon with a highly unusual request for a meeting between the U.S. ambassador in Ottawa and either the RCMP commissioner or a high-ranking officer if the commissioner was not available. A meeting was subsequently scheduled for eleven o’clock Wednesday morning when the commissioner would be available.

RCMP bureaucrats in Ottawa pondered over the situation. What was different about this investigation that would call for a face-to-face meeting with the ambassador?

In advance of the meeting, a team of bureaucratic RCMP officers did an analysis of the operational report submitted by Connie Crane. A name caught their eye. Jack Taggart had submitted a lot of reports over the years. Rumours and suspicions had percolated for ages about his methods and the deadly consequences of some of his investigations. Past investigative reports involving Taggart were scrutinized again.

Some of these reports had hand-written notations added by senior officers. Suspicions had been strongly aroused as to how he could so accurately predict in advance the organizational changes taking place in some organized crime families. His predictions about the future murders of some of the organized crime figures and who would replace them had also proven to be surprising accurate.

It was noted that Taggart had a knack for developing confidential informants who gave him inside information, but, that aside, if was generally felt there were far too many coincidences and Taggart’s predictions were too accurate to accept that there was not an underlying complicity of criminal involvement on his part.

One chief superintendent questioned why so many criminal groups Taggart investigated seemed to self-destruct in a spree of murder and mayhem shortly after his investigations began, usually with the criminals apparently killing each other. The chief superintendent had even underlined the word apparently with a comment he had made to the Pacific regional commander, Assistant Commissioner Isaac, while discussing his concerns.

Hand-written notes that followed on the report noted that Isaac also had concerns about Taggart and agreed it appeared there were far too many coincidences to rationally believe the mayhem that befell the criminal organizations could all be coincidental to Taggart’s seemingly innocent involvement.

That being said, Isaac did state there had never been any concrete evidence to prove that Taggart was a rogue officer. Isaac noted Taggart had been the subject of several Internal Affairs and Anti-Corruption investigations without any evidence of wrongdoing ever being uncovered.

It did not take the bureaucrats in Ottawa long to form an opinion.

Yes, the meeting with the U.S. ambassador must somehow involve Taggart. Did the U.S. somehow possess information about him to support the rumours? Perhaps even have evidence to lay a criminal charge? There was consensus that the Americans must have substantially solid evidence if they were going to accuse an officer in a foreign government of misconduct.

The scheduled meeting with the U.S. ambassador was immediately classified as on a need-to-know basis … and it was decided nobody outside of a handful of bureaucrats in Ottawa needed to know.

Early Wednesday morning, when a routine telephone call from the officer in charge of the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team in British Columbia was received, wanting to confirm the approval of the operation plan, he was brushed off with an explanation the delay was because the U.S. counterpart who usually handled such requests was on holidays and someone new was temporarily filling in. The I-HIT officer was told the operational plan would likely be approved later that afternoon.

The meeting with the U.S. ambassador was held and the bureaucrats felt smug that they went armed with enough circumstantial evidence against Taggart to alleviate any embarrassment or inclination that they were not completely on top of the situation.

They were soon disappointed. It had nothing to do with Jack Taggart. The U.S. had their own special investigation going in El Paso involving a rogue agent of their own who was the primary suspect in a recent murder of a Mexican drug cartel member.

The ambassador said it was believed that the Canadian investigators would come in contact with the rogue officer in El Paso because he was apparently the most knowledgeable about the Mexican cartels in that area and also had a high-level confidential informant who supplied him with valuable information about the cartels.

He went on to say that their criminal profilers, armed with a psychological profile of their rogue agent, said the agent would be under a great deal of stress, which was evidenced by the sudden appearance of excessive drinking. It was predicted he would soon make an admission of guilt to someone, possibly as a psychological need for self-vindication.

The ambassador said he felt they were obliged to share the nature of the investigation with the Canadians so as not to ruffle any feathers and to alleviate any misunderstandings should the Canadian investigators accidentally be overheard in an ongoing wiretap investigation concerning their rogue agent. The possibility also existed that the Canadian investigators could become involved in future criminal proceedings to give evidence should the rogue agent make some comment or disclose something to help convict him.

The disappointment that the RCMP bureaucrats momentarily felt turned to elation. They explained that they, too, had a rogue officer who was involved in the intended investigation in El Paso. They suggested that with a little manipulation, they could not only assist the U.S. in their investigation, but perhaps kill two birds with one stone.

A flurry of phone calls ensued. The result was the U.S. special investigators and the district attorney assigned to the case were more than happy with the idea. The timing and the similar personality traits of the two men fit perfectly with what the criminal profilers said was needed for an ultimate admission of guilt. It was further predicted that an admission by one would generate an admission of wrongdoing by the other.

This joint U.S.–Canada investigation was given the code name of Birds of a Feather.

chapter nineteen

It was six-thirty Thursday morning and Jack was lying on his back, awake, when Natasha came out of the bathroom and slipped back under the sheets and cuddled up to him.

“You’re a very dangerous man, Mr. Jack Taggart,” she said, mischievously. “Do you know that?”

“A few people have suggested that,” he replied suspiciously, as a half smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“Yup, armed and dangerous, I would say,” she continued, as her hand gave a playful tug on his penis. “I think I should call you Dead Eye Dick.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not …?”

“Yes, indications are I am,” she replied, giving a smile.

“It’s only been a couple of weeks since we said we would try,” said Jack, feeling dumbfounded. “How do you know already? I mean, is this for real or only hopeful thinking?”

“I just did a test.”

“Did it come back blue, meaning it’s going to be another boy?” joked Jack, while his brain still tried to process the moment.

Natasha smiled and said, “I think it’s a good thing you never decided to enter the medical profession. I only know I’m pregnant. I figure we should be due around the middle of next April.”

Jack felt at a momentary loss for words, so he hugged her and kissed her long and passionately on the lips and then on her neck, while holding her as close to him as he could. He felt her tears on his cheek. Or are they mine?

As Jack drove to work he glanced in the rear-view mirror. He saw he had a goofy grin on his face. It only made him smile more. As he got closer to his office, he wondered if Mikey would be getting a baby brother or a baby sister.

The thought of having a daughter made him think about Lily Rae and the joy he had been feeling disappeared. As a parent, he appreciated even more how much her mother must be hurting. He decided he would phone her when he got to the office. He would not risk endangering the secrecy of the investigation by telling her about El Paso, but he would make her a solemn promise to reassure her he would do everything he possibly could to find her daughter.

As he stopped for a traffic light, his mind went back to the hundreds of murdered and missing women out of Juarez … and the thousands of loved ones who still must be grieving their loss. How do they deal with the pain? Many of the bodies were never found. Some would never have closure …

As he sat waiting for the light to change, sadness was replaced by rage and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel. If someone ever came after my family …

Jack knew then he would do everything he could to find Lily Rae.

Including going into Mexico if need be …

Assistant Commissioner Isaac received a call from Assi-stant Commissioner Franklin in Ottawa and Birds of a Feather was explained. He was told to ensure Corporal Taggart was sent alone to El Paso for a few days to work with Special Agent John Adams.

“Hopefully that will give the two of them a chance to bond without distractions from other investigators,” Franklin said.

The muscles rippled across Isaac’s clenched jaw. Using Taggart like this is wrong. The fact that the commissioner didn’t ever bother to talk to me about it is wrong … “You likely won’t have to worry about Taggart bonding,” sighed Isaac. “He’s like a chameleon when it comes to fitting in and making friends. From the winos to the academia. People generally like him and go out of their way to accommodate him.”

“You’re probably right, there. The way he got Slater to trust him and open up so quickly was amazing.”

“That’s not an example I would use,” replied Isaac.

“Oh, that’s right. Corporal Crane made a notation Slater may have felt a little intimidated. But still, you agree this plan should work?”

“No, I didn’t say that. Taggart is pretty sharp. Others might trust him, but he isn’t one to put his trust in someone else or seek their approval.”

“The psychological profile that the Americans have put together indicates there is a strong chance for success. These two have very similar personalities. The plan is fairly simple. All the psychologist says needs to be done is to isolate the two of them so they think they are on their own, while putting a little pressure on them to give them the feeling it is them against the world. It will help them bond.”

“The Stockholm Syndrome,” Isaac remarked.

“Basically. Our hostage negotiators do it all the time.”

“And what pressure do they have in mind?” said Isaac bitterly. “I don’t want anyone losing focus as to the primary reason why he would be going to El Paso.”

“No, no. Of course not. They wouldn’t do anything to really jeopardize the case they are working on. It would simply be bureaucracy, which often happens, anyway.”

“Such as?”

“Taggart’s history, as well as John Adams’s, makes it abundantly clear they are both extremely dedicated to getting the job done.”

“And is this the reason you came up with Corporal Taggart’s name for this scheme? That he is extremely dedicated?” asked Isaac.

“Fanatical is more like it. Adams is apparently the same way. Look back on the investigations Taggart was involved in. Case after case where —”

“I am well aware of the cases he has worked on. In fact, I have made it my personal business to keep a close eye on him,” said Isaac. “Quite frankly, I feel irked that I was left out of the decision-making concerning this project. He is, after all, under my command.”

“Which is why I am calling you.”

“Right,” said Isaac, somewhat sarcastically, “after the big guy has already made the decision. So let’s get back to the intended pressure that is to be put on these two men. What exactly is intended?”

“Simply holding back or delaying resources once in a while should do the trick. Bureaucratic-type stuff that would grate against their personalities. Neither of these two men have a reputation for following policy.”

“Corporal Taggart is going to be working within a stone’s throw of Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. I don’t think I need tell you how extremely dangerous that place is. It is also the home base of this Tio character. If you are cutting back or delaying resources, it better not be at the risk of anyone’s life. Whether it is Taggart’s, Adams’s, or anyone else’s.”

“Of course not, but Texas is the only place Taggart is authorized to be. Mexico is strictly off-limits. If Taggart follows policy, then he should be safe enough.”

“Safe enough? Every man, woman, cat, and dog owns a gun in Texas.” Isaac snorted derisively. “We are already asking this man to risk his life in an undercover situation by sending him there. Think about it. He will be dealing with a Mexican cartel that has already sent a hit team to Canada to commit a murder. They’d kill him without batting an eyelash if they thought something was wrong. Safe enough my ass. Would you do it?”

“No, but like I said, he’s a fanatic. We are well aware his assignment to El Paso is dangerous.”

“Which should be stress enough without intentionally adding to it.”

“I’m sure our American friends will be prudent. As far as his personal safety goes, he will be given whatever protection is possible in El Paso. If he is stupid enough to go into Mexico, he will be on his own. We can hardly ask our American counterparts to risk their lives by crossing that border also.”

“Guess I can’t argue with that logic.” Isaac sighed.

“So you are in agreement?”

“Well, I really think whether I agree or not is a moot point. I am sure the decision by the man above us has already been made. He is not interested in my opinion … which is why he had you call me instead of him. You calling to ask for my concurrence is only a formality.”

“You’re right about that, but aren’t you happy with the prospect of finding out if Taggart is dirty?”

“I would be, but let me go on record as saying I am opposed to Birds of a Feather for two reasons. The first being that Taggart is very sharp and I am not optimistic of success and —”

“The psychological experts would disagree with you,” Franklin interrupted. “They think once one starts to talk, it will open up a floodgate of chatter. The U.S. is confident Adams will talk. Taggart might even be called to testify against him and vice versa. It will be a feather in our cap to help the Americans. No pun intended. I bet they’ll be very grateful.”

“And I was going to add that considering Taggart’s intellect and his inherent ability to survive, all this brown-nosing you’re doing to the Americans may backfire on you,” said Isaac.

“Co-operation between countries is not brown-nosing, it’s simply good police work. What is your second reason?” Franklin asked.

“I don’t feel the basic concept of using a policeman from one country to catch a policeman from another country is a good idea. It won’t build a trusting relationship for future investigations once word of it gets out.”

“Listen … are you sure you wish to go on record for being against it? Think about your career. I’ve heard rumours you could be the next commissioner. Disagreeing with anything the chief says could … well, you know what he’s like.”

I must really be a candidate for the spot, otherwise he wouldn’t be sucking up to me like this … Isaac shook his head and replied, “I don’t care, I want my opinion noted. And as far as being offered the top spot, I would refuse.”

“You would?” replied Franklin incredulously.

“Being a political lackey for whatever government is in charge doesn’t appeal to me. Neither does hanging out with him in Ottawa and sucking up to him every chance I get, although I know you would disagree because you think brown-nosing is good police work.”

A moment of cold silence was followed with, “Fine,” came the crisp reply. “Your concerns will be duly noted. Now talk to Taggart’s superior and clear the way for Birds of a Feather to proceed.”

“I’m not done yet. You should know that if Taggart’s life is put in jeopardy down there as a result of your Birds of a Feather, I won’t remain quiet about it. International diplomacy be damned. Tell that to the commissioner!”

Staff Sergeant Rose Wood received a call from Isaac who said, “I’m letting you know Ottawa approved the operational plan submitted by I-HIT over the El Paso investigation, but with a few minor changes.”

“Yes, sir … and those changes would be?” asked Rose as she reached for her pen.

“Corporal Taggart has been approved as he will definitely be required due to his undercover role. He is to go to El Paso on his own for the first few days. With budget restrictions, Ottawa doesn’t see any need for the other members to attend until there is something more concrete to investigate.”

“I understand, sir,” replied Rose, “but the investigation is barely getting underway. I’m sure within the next few days we’ll identify Slater’s contacts in Canada and then discover who they are contacting in the States. The complexity of the investigation, what with a murder, a missing Canadian girl, cocaine importation … it will require a considerable amount of man hours and coordination.”

“In regard to the manpower needed, we got lucky. The Americans currently have a secret task force of investigators in El Paso composed of FBI, DEA, Customs, and ATF, who are all working on the Mexican drug cartels. They have offered their services, including a Special Agent John Adams who will work directly with Corporal Taggart.”

“Excellent.”

“I am assured Corporal Taggart will be well-protected in the U.S., but under no circumstances is he to enter Mexico. Recent kidnappings, murder, and corruption have made it strictly off-limits. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“As Corporal Taggart is to be meeting the target next Wednesday, I would think it prudent he arrive in El Paso by Monday. It will give him a chance to meet who he will be working with and also do any preliminary investigative work needed to move this case ahead.”

“Yes, sir.”

“He is going into extremely dangerous territory. Parts of El Paso are basically like the suburbs of Juarez. The Americans will be in charge of his safety down there, but I want you to inform him that if something doesn’t feel right, he should back out. Lily Rae may have been murdered down there, but I don’t want Taggart becoming the next victim. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Wish him good luck for me. I think he will need it.”

chapter twenty

Late Friday morning, Adams walked into his office building. He stood for a moment and glanced at some of his co-workers. Few acknowledged his presence. He noticed Davidson sitting in Weber’s office, drinking coffee. Weber looked over his cup, saw Adams, and said something to Davidson, who then turned and used his foot to kick the door shut.

Adams should have felt like a leper, but at the moment, he really didn’t care. There was nobody, outside of Greg Patton, in the office he ever felt close with. He strode over to the board where the keys for the covert cars were hung. His favourite, a new metallic-silver Camaro with dark-tinted windows, was there and he snatched the keys. The drug trafficker it had been seized from was from New Orleans and had tried to use it to smuggle two kilos of cocaine back home.

An hour later, Adams was parked a block away from the same house Chico had used to sucker Patton into following him. A couple of the low-level hoods were still using the house, but with Chico’s untimely death, Adams knew they would likely be feeling a little nervous and would be moving to a new location soon. He hoped he could follow one of them to find out where.

At noon, Adams received a call on his cellphone.

“Get back here,” ordered Weber.

“Do I need to call a lawyer?”

“It’s not about that,” Weber replied and hung up.

Weber waved for Adams to enter his office and pointed to a chair across from his desk. Adams took a seat and quietly waited while Weber took his time to shuffle through some papers, pausing and pretending to read some of the daily bulletins, while casting the odd furtive glance at Adams.

Yeah, make me wait, asshole, just to let me know you’re the boss. Does it make you feel important? Hoping to see me get pissed off? Well, two can play that game …

A soft snore from Adams caught Weber’s immediate attention and he saw Adams’s chin resting on his chest.

“Adams! You son of a bitch! Wake up!”

Adams head jerked and he yawned, looking around.

“Are you drunk? You are, aren’t you? I can smell it.”

“Nope. Was up late last night on surveillance. Maybe spilled a beer on my pants when I got home. Did you call me in here to help you read those bulletins? There are some pretty tough words like alias and stuff.”

“Fuck you, you degenerate bastard. If I wanted any lip from you I’d rattle my zipper.”

“That’s original,” replied Adams, sarcastically.

“You’re a real piece of work, do you know that? What you did … you’ve gone against everything we stand for. Flushed our values down the drain.”

“Do your values include the right to a fair trial? Or innocent until proven guilty? You’re condemning me without —”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” growled Weber. “You’re just lucky you got away with it. What you did was totally wrong.” He waved his hand in the direction of the general office and added, “There’s not one guy out there who is willing to work with you now. What you did is totally against the values of what we stand for.”

Adams glanced at the men in the outer office and said, “Maybe if the Mexicans started killing off their family members they’d think different. I’m hoping the head honchos in the cartel do think I killed Chico. It’ll make them think twice about ever doing what they did again.”

“Don’t lay that crap on me. You’re really fucked up.”

“Is that why you called me off of a surveillance? To tell me that?”

“No,” replied Weber, tapping a file on his desk with his index finger for emphasis. “I called you in here to let you know the Mounties in Canada are interested in some Mexicans who are running coke from here up to there.”

“Wow,” said Adams lamely. “I can just imagine the hell they must be going through up there. A bunch of coked-up Eskimos tossing their spears all around. At least it will give the seals half a chance.”

“It’s a little bigger than that. Some cartel from here sent a hit team up and whacked someone in Canada who was one of their runners.”

“Which cartel? Guajardo or the Sinaloa?”

“They don’t have a clue.”

“Yeah, I’m sure they don’t.”

“They’re trying to identify some Mexican who goes by Tio.”

“You’re joking, right?” replied Adams with a laugh.

“No. They’re also looking for the guy’s girlfriend who was snatched here in El Paso.”

“Yeah, well you fly with the crows —”

“They’re sending a Mountie down to investigate. His name is Jack Taggart and his flight arrives at the airport Monday morning at 9:57. I want you to pick him up and babysit him for a few days.”

“Fuck that! Get one of them to do it,” replied Adams, gesturing with his thumb to two men in the outer office who were both reading the newspaper.

“They’re busy.”

“Yeah? Well, so am I. Greg and I have busted our asses on these cartels. The two of us have done more damage to them than everyone else in this office put together.”

“So what?”

“So what? After what they did to Greg, it’s all the more important that I don’t back off. I don’t need to have some hick cop from Canada slowing me down or fucking things up if I need to do something. What if I get some info from a CI and have to do immediate surveillance? I sure as hell don’t need some jackass burning me.”

“It’s only for a few days. Find him a place to stay, too.”

“But —”

“Forget the buts. You’re not being asked to do this, you’re being ordered.”

“Well ain’t that just lovely.”

Weber pushed the file across the desk toward Adams and said, “Here are their reports. Read ’em and pay attention where it says Taggart has been ordered to stay out of Mexico.”

“Good. Guess they’re not completely clueless. The Mexicans would probably shoot him as soon as he crossed the bridge and sell his red jacket to the doorman at some whorehouse ten minutes later.”

chapter twenty-one

On Saturday, Vancouver RCMP Drug Section conducted surveillance on Slater’s apartment building and saw a Mexican arrive. The man parked his car — which was registered to a numbered company — out front and went inside. Moments later, he drove out of the underground parking lot in Slater’s pickup truck.

The man was followed to an auto-body shop where the bay door was opened by another Mexican and the pickup was driven inside. Half an hour later, the truck was returned to Slater’s apartment building.

Late Sunday morning, surveillance on Slater was terminated when he was seen driving through U.S. Customs in his pickup. It was decided not to risk jeopardizing the investigation by trying to follow him all the way to Texas.

A decision was also made to curtail surveillance of the Mexicans at the body shop in the event the Mexicans spotted it and blamed Jack for the sudden police interest.

Early Sunday evening, Jack caught a flight from Vancouver to Houston, Texas, where he had to overnight. On Monday morning, he arrived on schedule at the airport in El Paso. He had been told that a John Adams would pick him up, but was also given a phone number to the general office if there was a problem.

The El Paso airport was relatively small compared to some, but several flights had arrived within minutes of each other and the crowd was shoulder to shoulder. Jack retrieved his two suitcases from the luggage carousel and glanced around. He spotted another man who was lanky in appearance, sporting about a week’s worth of beard, and dressed in blue jeans and cowboy boots. He quickly breezed through the crowd while glancing around a couple of times and then made his way to the exit.

If this is who was sent to pick me up, he’s not too keen about it …

Jack caught up to him at the doors and said, “John?”

“Yeah,” he replied somewhat suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“Jack Taggart from Canada.”

“Oh!” replied Adams in surprise. “You, uh, don’t look like a cop. At least, not what I was expecting.”

Jack knew from Adams’s quick trip through the airport that he wasn’t happy about picking him up. It would take a little diplomacy to get him on board … which was what was needed if they were to work together.

He sized Adams up quickly. His eyes are red and it looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks. His shirt is slightly stained with grease … probably drippings from a hamburger. Good, the guy was probably working surveillance and downing food when he had the chance. Not the type who spends his days in the office sucking up to the bosses. Being sent to pick me up probably pissed him off … he’d rather get back to whatever he was working on.

“You breezed through the airport pretty quick,” said Jack. “Looking for a guy in a red tunic, I take it?”

“Sort of, yeah.”

“Don’t have to wear it when I travel.”

“I see,” replied Adams seriously.

“Do you know where the general cargo area is at the airport? I have to go there.”

“I’m not sure,” replied Adams, looking around.

“Yeah, they had to fly my horse in on a FedEx plane.”

“What?”

“Never mind. I was just messin’ with your brain cell. I’m ready to go.”

Adams looked taken back before muttering, “Okay. Good.”

As they stepped out into the sunlight and walked toward a parking lot, Adams glanced at Jack and asked, “Did you already talk to Weber?”

“No. Who’s he?”

“My boss.”

“I tend to avoid bosses. Where I come from they can be counterproductive.”

They took a few more steps and Adams glanced at Jack a couple of times before admitting, “They’re the same here, but I was told to bring you in and meet with them. First, though, I’ll take you to your hotel so you can check in.”

“Fine, but after the protocol with your boss, I would like to get to work. I want to see a motel called the Cactus Sunset. A young woman from Canada was kidnapped out of it. Then, if we have time, I’ve got some rather cryptic directions on a hand-drawn map I’d like you to look at. I think it leads to a house trailer out in the desert someplace.”

“What’s there?”

“Nothing, I hope. Have you read our reports?”

“I skimmed through them the other day. Have been a little busy. I’ll take a closer look at ’em when I introduce you to Weber and the others.”

“I see,” said Jack, feeling a little frustrated more interest had not been shown. “I’ll fill you in some as you drive.”

“I think you’ll like the hotel I picked. They give the guests free drinks every day from four to six.”

“Sounds good.” Jack squinted up at the sun as they walked out of a shaded area. The heat felt like he was standing on the tarmac behind a jet engine and sweat immediately ran down the side of his head. He glanced at Adams and said, “Man, it’s not even eleven o’clock in the morning and I can feel the heat burning through the soles of my shoes. Is it always this hot?”

“This is winter. You should try being here during our hot and dry season.”

“Are you kidding?”

“Yeah,” replied Adams, giving Jack a sideways glance. “I was just messin’ with your brain cell.”

Jack chuckled. “These free drinks at four … seems like a long time to wait.”

Adams smiled. “The bosses mentioned they want to come for lunch with you. I think I could find us a place where there’s cold beer.”

“Perfect.”

“Just out of curiosity, how did you spot me in the airport?” asked Adams.

“You got a cop’s bearing.”

“What do you mean?”

“You exude self-confidence. You’ve also got a cop’s eyes.”

“Are you still just messin’ —”

“No.”

Adams frowned. He had always prided himself at blending in. Who is this guy?

As they approached the Camaro, Jack commented, “Nice wheels. Yours?”

“Company car. Used to belong to a dope dealer.”

“It doesn’t look like a police vehicle.”

“It’s the best one we have.”

“Where I come from, the bosses scoop the best ones and leave the clunkers for the rest of us.”

“Same here. I was lucky to find the keys on the board. You’ll notice it has tinted windows all around so nobody can see my cops’ eyes,” replied Adams as he grinned at Jack.

Jack gave a lop-sided smile in response. He had a feeling he and Adams were going to get along fine.

An hour later, after checking into the hotel, Jack entered the office with Adams. He had barely taken two steps when Weber spotted him and came out to shake his hand. He was then invited back to Weber’s office where he received warm handshakes from Davidson, as well as the two bosses who represented the DEA and ATF investigators.

Adams did not take part in the introductions and stood in the main office, watching quietly before going to his own desk.

Jack looked at the men in the main office. Adams was much younger and more physically fit than the rest. Obviously the junior man … the gofer assigned to pick me up.

Jack also sensed Adams was treated with a certain degree of indifference by the others. Perhaps like a young bull full of vitality and eager to go … while the old bulls look upon him with a certain amount of contempt?

Jack may have formed a different opinion had he known the real reason Adams was being ostracized.

Davidson told Jack that neither picture of the two killers taken from Porter’s apartment security camera could be identified as anyone they knew, but they would keep their descriptions in mind for future reference.

All four bosses insisted on joining Jack for lunch so they walked into the main part of the office and Adams suggested a Mexican restaurant he knew. The bosses agreed to the choice and said they would follow in their own car.

As Jack and Adams walked out to their car, Adams said, “You mentioned you wanted to check out the Cactus Sunset and then some map you have after lunch.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t see the map mentioned in your reports.”

“It, uh, is a little delicate how I obtained it. The fewer people who know, the better.”

“I see,” replied Adams. Delicate? What kind of wussy word is that? A CI probably gave it to him … he should have said so.

As they drove to the restaurant, Adams said, “I also checked out the Armadillo Motel while you were meeting with them,” he said, gesturing with his thumb back to the four bosses in the car behind them. “We don’t have anything on it, but that doesn’t mean squat. The cartels have thousands of people in their pocket, so I don’t recommend anyone approaching the management at the Armadillo on Wednesday when you check in.”

“I agree with you there. It was Tio who told me to go there. I’m sure he has a reason.”

“What kind of piece are you carrying?”

“I’m not armed. It’s against policy for me to carry a gun in a foreign country.”

“Are you fuckin’ nuts?” replied Adams, incredulously. “I pack at least two all the time. One in an ankle holster and —”

“Of course you do, you’re an American.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Jack hid his smile at the amount of weaponry the U.S. was famous for and shrugged in response.

“Well, for your information, you are in America,” said Adams gruffly. “As soon as we stop for lunch I’ll pop the trunk. Got lots for you to choose from. Anything from revolvers to pistols to fully autos.”

“Thanks, but no. I don’t usually carry one in Canada, either, if I am undercover. More often than not, I’m searched. If I had a gun the bad guys are liable to take it and use it on me.”

Adams shook his head and said, “It’s your funeral.”

“Have you ever worked undercover?” asked Jack.

“Never. I’ve only done backup, so I expect you to take the lead when it comes to decisions in that regard. The Cactus Sunset is on the western edge of the city, about a block south of a main highway. The Armadillo Motel is on the main highway, but a few miles farther out. I’m not familiar with the Armadillo itself, but I know it is pretty barren out there.”

“So a bunch of cops parked out on the road might look a little obvious.”

“For sure … and we can’t approach the management to put guys in a room next to you, so what do you suggest?”

“Do you have a policewoman available? Maybe book someone in as a couple? Unless you want to pretend you’re gay —”

“This is Texas! I’m not — I can get a policewoman,” said Adams quickly, before seeing the grin on Jack’s face. “Yeah, okay, wiseguy. I’ll make sure I’m in one of the rooms myself, but depending upon what room I’m given, I may not be able to listen through the walls. Are you thinking of wearing a wire?”

“Definitely not. If I get caught with one of those, I’m dead. I’ve been scanned by dealers in the past with devices to check for transmitters … and those guys weren’t as high up the food chain as these guys. I don’t want any bugs.”

“Then how will I know if something is going wrong?”

“Listen for the sound of breaking glass. If I’m in trouble I’ll toss something or someone out a window. If I’m really in trouble, I’ll throw myself out.”

“You are fucking nuts. Every undercover operator I’ve ever met is,” he muttered seriously, before nodding toward a restaurant. “Okay, we’re here.”

Lunch consisted of tamales stuffed with shredded beef, roasted chillies, and an assortment of other fillings, which went well with a cold bottle of Lone Star beer. Everyone was exceedingly friendly with Jack and did what they could to make him feel welcome, including picking up his lunch tab.

“Seem like nice guys,” said Jack, once he and Adams got back in the car.

“They’re bosses. I guess they do what they’re supposed to do,” he added begrudgingly. “Now I’ll take you to the Cactus Sunset.”

The Cactus Sunset was appropriately named. It was a two-storey building with ten rooms on each level on the edge of the desert. Adams pulled into the parking lot and asked, “Do you want to talk to the manager?”

“No, the FBI have already done that, along with searching the room. I want to get out and walk around the back to see what’s there.”

Adams joined Jack and they strolled around to the back of the motel. There was nothing to see but sagebrush, cactus, and sand dunes.

Jack walked up the closest sand dune and looked. The view didn’t change. “Okay, I’ve seen enough,” he said, looking back at Adams, who had remained at the back of the motel, watching him. “Didn’t know what I was hoping to find, anyway. I think I just wanted to get a feel for the place … and its surroundings.”

They returned to the car and headed out on the highway toward the Armadillo Motel. They drove in silence for about a mile when Adams hit the brakes and pulled over to the side of the road.

Jack looked around and saw there were no other vehicles in sight. “What is it?” he asked.

Adams pointed far out into the desert.

Jack didn’t see anything at first. Then some dots circling high in the air caught his attention and he felt his heart sink. Vultures …

chapter twenty-two

For twenty-five minutes, Adams slowly drove and wound his way around clusters of cactus and small sand dunes. In a pickup truck, the trip could have been done rapidly, but the Camaro was built close to the ground and was not meant for off-road driving.

Eventually they came upon two sets of tire tracks from a pickup truck that had tandem rear tires. It appeared the truck had driven in the same direction as the vultures were and then had doubled back.

“Let’s walk from here,” suggested Adams. “This might be a crime scene. I don’t want to drive over anything.”

Jack nodded in agreement as two vultures swooped down from the sky and disappeared out of sight in front of them. He guessed they were only about a ten-minute walk farther ahead.

Both men walked beside the tracks until they came upon a deep ravine. Marks in the sand showed where the truck had turned around and backed up to the ravine.

Jack peered over the edge. Part way down the slope was a large flock of vultures jostling each other for space as they fought for room, while other vultures flew overhead or perched on nearby rocks to await their turn.

Jack saw a limb sticking out of the feeding frenzy. Is it a leg or an arm? He swallowed to try and keep his lunch down and watched as Adams picked up a rock and tossed it toward the vultures.

The vultures were not overly intimidated by the rock, but a few did leap away long enough for them to glimpse the carcass strewn open with its ribcage exposed.

“Just a cow or a steer,” said Adams, as he turned and walked away.

Jack took a deep breath. He was relieved they hadn’t found Lily Rae, but the sight of the vultures sickened him when he thought of what might have become of her. He looked around at the horizon and was glad he didn’t see any other signs of vultures.

On their way back to the car, Adams asked, “Have you got that map you were talking about?”

Jack handed him his notebook with the roughly drawn map.

“EP-W-CR14-12-U-L,” said Adams aloud as he looked at the map. “Then a bunch of dotted lines leading out to an X mark.”

“There were more of a hodgepodge of other short lines near the one with the X,” said Jack. “I didn’t have time to copy them all down.”

“You didn’t have time?” questioned Adams. “I had presumed your … delicate situation meant you were protecting a CI.”

“I strongly believe in protecting my informants,” replied Jack, “but in this case, that is not what I meant. Do you have any ideas?”

“I would take a guess and say the EP means El Paso … and west of El Paso is an intersection to the start of county road number 14.”

“We’re west of El Paso. Is it close to here?”

“Not far. It’s slightly south of the highway we’re on. Incidentally, to get to Country Road 14 from El Paso you generally drive past a casino called the Sunland Park.”

“Which means the casino wouldn’t be all that far from the Cactus Sunset Motel where Porter moved before the Mexicans found him.”

“Same general area. My guess is these directions mean twelve miles up Country Road 14. I don’t know what the U-L is. Maybe the L is left. Let’s take a look. It could be out along the border someplace. Maybe another trail into Mexico.”

“Into Mexico?”

“Yeah, there are quite a few of them. Places are always popping up that the illegals use to enter into El Paso every day to work. Mind you, this seems a little far out for that. The other lines you mentioned … it’s hillier out there. Those could be hills or big sand dunes. Maybe the trailer is hidden amongst them.”

“Okay to try and find it?”

“Yeah, can do. We’re only fifteen minutes away from The Armadillo Motel. Want to swing past it first to see what it’s like? Then head up Country Road 14?”

“Sounds good.”

A few miles farther outside the city, a faded sign portraying the image of an armadillo hung in front of a single-storey row of motel rooms.

“Is that a rat or an armadillo?” asked Jack as they drove past.

“The one on the sign is an armadillo. The rats will be inside the place out of the heat.”

Jack glanced around. There was not another building in sight and the land was flat. “I feel like I’m in Saskatchewan on the hottest day of the year,” he said. “Except the wheat fields have been replaced by sand and cacti.”

“You want the air turned up?”

“It’s high enough. Air conditioners usually give me a cold.”

“Know what ya mean. Normally I prefer to suck on a cold beer.”

“Got one?”

“No, I figured you Mounties had a reputation for being goody-two-shoes type of guys. Never swear, never tell a lie … follow the letter of the law.”

“Yeah, that would be me.”

Approximately five minutes down the road, they spotted a side road partially obscured by bushes.

“Could put a cover team in there,” suggested Jack.

“Yeah, but it is still about five minutes away. A lot can happen to a guy in five minutes.”

“I know, but I’ll have you and a policewoman. That’s more than I’ve had other times.”

“Your funeral.”

“I know,” said Jack, quietly.

“Glad you know,” said Adams abruptly. “Let’s check out your map.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Adams turned at a T-intersection where a sign indicated they were turning on to Country Road 14.

“I’ll let you know when we’re about twelve miles along,” said Adams. “Keep your eye open for that U on the map.”

At around twelve miles, Adams slowed the car down, but there was nothing to see except sand dunes or the odd shack. Adams drove for another two miles before turning around and driving back.

“That has to be it,” said Jack, minutes later, pointing to a sun-bleached skull of a long-horned steer. It had been nailed to a fencepost from which a rusted gate hung open on one hinge. The nose of the skull had deteriorated in the sun and it was missing one horn.

“That skull is your U you think? How do you figure?”

“Bet it used to have two horns. Using your imagination … it could be a U.”

“Yeah … maybe. Doesn’t look like any recent vehicle tracks on the other side of the gate,” noted Adams. “Still, with wind and sand, things disappear pretty quick. Okay, we’ll take a look and see where it leads.”

They drove through the desert as the trail wound in and around sand dunes and over hills. The Camaro periodically bottomed out in the sand and there were several occasions when both men feared the car would get stuck, but Adams was able to continue on.

“Christ, at this point I don’t know if we’re still in Texas or if we’re in Mexico,” said Adams with a worried look on his face as he glanced at Jack.

“I don’t care. Let’s keep going,” replied Jack.

Moments later, they saw the roof of a mobile home sticking up from the far side of a sand dune.

“It’s about time,” breathed Adams with relief as he stepped on the throttle to give the car an extra boost along the trail leading over the dune.

The engine roared as the tires spun through the sand and the car burst over the top of the dune and slid down the other side.

“Oh, fuck,” said Adams under his breath, while instinctively reaching for the gun in the holster on his belt.

chapter twenty-three

District Attorney White took the call and recognized Davidson’s voice immediately.

“You wouldn’t believe it,” said Davidson with a chuckle.

“Believe what?”

“The Mountie from Canada arrived this morning. Adams picked him up and we all went for lunch and then left them alone. Talk about two peas in a pod! I’m on my other phone to one of our people doing the listening. They’ve only been alone together a couple of hours and sounds like they are already doing something they shouldn’t be.”

“What are they doing?”

“The Mountie had some map they were following.”

“I don’t remember reading about that … just a minute,” said White, reaching for a file folder.

“Don’t bother looking. The Mountie didn’t mention it in any report and said he didn’t want people knowing about it. Hang on, I’m talking in two phones at once here. I’ve got the guy listening to the bug on my cellphone … He just told me it sounds like the two of them may have driven into Mexico.”

“Christ, that didn’t take long. Where in Mexico?”

“We’re not tailing them. Adams would spot that pretty quick.”

“I know. I meant a satellite tracker.”

“We, uh, the four of us here talked about that. The only ones we have are being used on more important targets.”

“I see,” replied White. He thought of Davidson’s comment after they first interviewed Adams. White wondered if the agency would move Adams in case the cartel would murder him. Davidson’s reply had been, ‘That would save everyone a lot of embarrassment.’

“Anyway, this whole thing could be wrapped up in minutes,” continued Davidson.

“They’re talking?”

“No, I don’t mean that. Something is going on. Adams’s voice has gone up a couple of octaves. He’s not a guy who gets scared easily. Hang on, my other phone … sounds like they’re in deep trouble. Maybe about to be grabbed … not sure yet. Talk of guys pulling rifles on them. They’re out of the car … I better call you back.”

Unaware that Adams was reaching for his pistol, Jack looked at the scene before them as their car slid to a stop in the sand. The collection of other short lines he had seen on Slater’s map he now knew represented other house trailers. There were a dozen of them scattered like pick-up sticks around a small road paved with blacktop.

Half the trailers had trucks and SUVs parked beside them. There were no cars except the one he and Adams were in and it was attracting attention. Several men from different trailers had stepped out and were gesturing in their direction.

Jack could not see past some sand dunes to know where the blacktop road went, but it ended abruptly near where they had arrived.

“Look at all the skid marks at the end of the road,” noted Jack. “Kids must be drag racing out here.”

“Those aren’t from kids,” replied Adams tersely, holding his pistol in his lap. “It’s from light aircraft landing. We just drove into the middle of a drug dropoff zone.”

“Oh, shit,” said Jack under his breath, feeling very stupid. It hadn’t occurred to him a smuggler’s drug dropoff site would be this big and include a paved runway.

To the right of their car and close to where the runway ended, sat a Mexican on a large cooler under a wooden lean-to. The man was fat, unshaven, and reminded Jack of a bad guy out of an old Mexican Western movie. The man’s thick black eyebrows knotted together as he stared at them suspiciously.

“Damn it, the two guys over by that black pickup were hauling a table out of the trailer. Now they put it down and are grabbing rifles out of the cab,” warned Adams, with a nod of his head in the opposite direction.

Jack looked past Adams out the driver’s window and saw two men. Both had dark scowls on their faces and held their rifles at waist height as they started to approach. Jack estimated if the two men continued to walk, they would reach their car in about a minute.

“Take my gun while I try to drive us the fuck out of here!” said Adams.

“Keep it,” replied Jack. “We’d never make it with what you’re driving, anyway,” he added as he opened the car door and stepped out.

“What are you doing? Get back in here!”

“Wait here. I’ll be right back,” he added, as he closed the door.

“What the fuck …” He glanced back at the two men approaching. Using a pistol to go against two guys with rifles at this distance wouldn’t be ruled an act of self defence, it would be classified as suicide …

Adams quickly got out of the car and said, “I’ll cover you.”

“No!” whispered Jack heatedly over the top of the car. “Smile and wave at the guy behind me in the lean-to. I’m going over to talk to him.”

“Him? He’s not the one with the rifles!”

“Ignore those two. Keep your back to them and act like you haven’t seen them.”

“What the fuck?” muttered Adams, feeling extremely vulnerable as he turned his back to the two men with the rifles. Is Jack hoping to take these guys by surprise? Maybe yell and have me spin around and drop them both? This ain’t fuckin’ Hollywood …

Jack did his best to casually stride over to the lean-to as though he had done it many times, although a glance back at Adams, who was watching him over the roof of the car while clenching his pistol under his shirt, made it difficult to look relaxed.

The Mexican eyed him suspiciously as he approached, but remained seated.

“Buenos dias, amigo,” said Jack.

The Mexican gave a slight grunt in response.

“Hace mucho calor hoy,” said Jack, gesturing to the sun. “Dos cervezas, por favor.”

“Si.” The Mexican stood up, opened the cooler he was sitting on, and popped the tops off of two bottles of Corona and handed them to Jack.

“Muchas gracias,” said Jack, as he paid him and then strolled back toward the car, stopping once to take a swig of beer. As he did, he noticed the two men with the rifles spoke briefly with each other and then walked back toward the trailer they had come from.

“Jesus Christ,” said Adams as they got back inside the car. “How did you know that guy was selling beer?”

“My wife says I have a gift for finding cold beer,” replied Jack, handing him a bottle, “but seeing a fat guy sitting on a cooler in the desert surrounded by dope runners … well, it doesn’t take much logic to know he wasn’t selling salted nuts.”

Adams breathed a sigh of relief and said, “Okay, let’s see if they’ll let us slowly drive away. The guys with the rifles are still staring at us.”

“Not yet. Sit for a second and enjoy the beer. As you do, take a look around. My guess is the trailer marked with the X is that one straight ahead of us with the door facing the runway … the one where the wind has made a small sand dune in the driveway. What do you think?”

Adams gulped down half his beer as his eyes scanned the different trailers. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

“It looks abandoned. In fact, half the trailers do. I think they’re clearing out. Let’s take a look inside. It will also make it look like we belong here.”

“Good point,” replied Adams apprehensively, with a quick glance back to the two men who were now putting the rifles back in the cab of the truck.

Moments later, Adams parked beside the trailer. “We don’t have a warrant, but if it’s unlocked we can say it was abandoned and go in,” he said.

Jack gave Adams a sideways glance. A warrant? You really don’t trust me …

They each got out of the car and Adams was the first to reach the door. “Shit, it’s locked,” he said, glancing nervously back.

Jack glanced around, as well. For the moment, nobody was staring at them.

“At least I don’t smell a body,” Adams noted.

Jack nodded, but didn’t know whether to feel happy or nauseous at the comment.

“Hang on, I’m going around back to see if I can see in,” said Adams.

Jack waited a moment before peeking behind the trailer. He saw Adams checking all the windows at the back of the trailer, hoping to find one that wasn’t locked. Jack grinned to himself. So he isn’t averse to breaking in …

Jack went back to the front door and took out his wallet. In it he kept a small set of lock picks. It took him less than ten seconds to unlock the door. He then opened it and said loudly, “What? Did you say come in?”

Adams scrambled around to the front of the trailer and his jaw dropped when he saw Jack holding the door open.

“I’m not sure,” said Jack. “I think I heard someone say to come in.”

Adams looked at Jack and then hurried past him into the trailer. Once they were both inside Adams turned to Jack and said, “It was locked. I know it was. There’s nobody here …”

Jack flashed him the lock picks.

Adams stared at him for a moment and said, “So this is what you mean when you say you obtain something through a delicate situation.”

“Sometimes,” admitted Jack.

“It didn’t take you long to pick,” noted Adams. “Can you do that with all locks?”

“It depends on the locks. Trailer locks are easy. Most desk drawers I can do in about five seconds. Handcuffed behind my back, I can get out of it within a minute if I have a bobby pin.”

“You could be a handy guy to have around sometimes.”

“I’m not that good. Other locks, like deadbolts, are tougher. There are many I can’t do.”

“I wouldn’t mind learning how.”

“I’ll teach you the basic concept sometime, but even when you do understand how locks work, you still have to practice regularly or you lose the ability.”

A search of the trailer did not take long. It was completely empty. They got back in the car and nobody appeared to pay any attention to them as they drove away.

It was five o’clock when they arrived back in El Paso. While on their way to Jack’s hotel, Adams received a short call from Weber.

“Looks like you’re a celebrity,” said Adams, when he hung up. “Davidson and Weber are coming over to join us and sponge some free drinks from the hotel for happy hour.”

Jack and Adams were the first to arrive at the hotel and each ordered a Corona as they stood in the hospitality room.

“I’ve been wondering about Wednesday,” said Adams.

“What about Wednesday?”

“When you meet Tio. What if he wants to meet you in Juarez?”

“Then I’ll meet him there,” said Jack firmly.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” sighed Adams.

“I’m telling you because I trust you not to tell anyone,” said Jack. “You strike me as the type of guy who does what it takes to get the job done. So do I.”

“I’m not worried about you ignoring orders. What concerns me is if I try to follow you in Juarez, I’ll be spotted. There are too many places they could take you where a gringo like me would stand out.”

“I don’t want anyone following me. It would probably get me killed. Besides, no use in both of us getting in trouble with the bosses if something goes wrong. Just be forewarned that I may intentionally lose you and the cover team on Wednesday.”

“I also don’t think you appreciate how dangerous it is over there,” said Adams. “That place we went to this afternoon … I had never even heard so much as a whisper about it. And it was huge operation right under our noses.” Adams took a swig of Corona and added, “Which to your credit, you led me to on your first day here.”

“It was luck I found the map. It was you who deciphered it.”

“Yeah, luck that you delicately obtained. Not to mention, it was you who figured out to turn at the skull. I’m going to check into it further, but right now I can tell you I’ve got some serious concerns about who is behind it.”

“Who do you suspect?”

“It has to be either the Guajardo or the Sinaloa cartel, that part is obvious, but it is the level you’re dealing with that concerns me.”

“The level?”

“Whoever your Tio is, he’s no Mickey Mouse player. For you to have a map of what we found today … this isn’t some chicken-shit low-end guy.”

“Good.”

“Yeah, good … and dangerous. This guy will have a lot of protection and will be taking all the necessary precautions. You’re going to be like an ant under a magnifying glass.”

“Hope the sun doesn’t come out.”

“Yeah, well if it does, you better be prepared. First thing in the morning I’m going to show you different escape routes out of Mexico in case you do end up over there. If something goes wrong and you do manage to make a run for it, don’t use any of the bridges.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“There’s something else I’m going to do, as well … and this is putting a lot of trust in you. Tomorrow I’m going to introduce you to someone. He’s a commander of a police station in Juarez and has got the biggest set of balls of anyone I’ve ever met. The cartels would kill him immediately if they knew he was co-operating. I’ll introduce you to him. He might be the only guy in Mexico who could save your life.”

“How will he feel about meeting me?”

“He’s the type of guy who will help anyone he thinks is working for the right side. The first time I went to his office to meet him, he pretended to throw me out, but slipped me a piece of paper with a time and location to meet him later. We’ll also show him the pictures of those two guys from the apartment security cameras who did the hit in Canada.”

“I nicknamed the one guy El Burla for sneer and Lobulo for —”

“Hey, guys! How are you doing?” interrupted Weber as he and Davidson arrived.

“Doing great.” Jack smiled.

“What did you do this afternoon?” asked Davidson casually.

“We checked out the Cactus Sunset and then the Armadillo Motel to see where I would be staying on Wednesday,” replied Jack. “After that we went for a drive and had a cold beer.”

“What do you think of our city?” asked Weber.

“I like it,” replied Jack. He glanced at Adams and added, “Seems like there are some really good people around here.”

Jack saw the trace of a smile of appreciation on Adams’s face as they briefly stared at each other. What he didn’t notice was the subtle wink Davidson gave Weber.

chapter twenty-four

Jack woke, had breakfast, and was waiting in the lobby at nine o’clock when he spotted the metallic-silver Camaro and went out to meet Adams.

“Hey there, two-gun gringo, how you doin’?” asked Jack.

“I don’t have a hangover, so that’s good.”

“You only had two drinks last night.”

“I don’t like to drink much in front of Davidson and Weber. Besides, I had to drive. How long did you have to put up with them?” asked Adams.

“Not late,” replied Jack. “They left shortly after you did. I was tired. I wanted to get a good night’s sleep.”

“Good. This morning when I dropped in to pick up the car, I told them I was taking you around to familiarize you with the various nightspots in El Paso. I said it might come in handy for you to know the area for when you do your undercover stuff.”

“Good thinking.”

“You have breakfast yet?”

“Already ate.”

“Likewise. Let’s get to work.”

An hour later, Adams pulled up and parked near a small bridge southwest of the city. A U.S. Customs booth was on one end and a Mexican Customs booth was on the other.

“Get out and take a look,” said Adams. “You probably won’t believe it.”

Jack got out of the car and walked up to the bridge. A small stream of Mexicans walked across the bridge and were stopping to be checked at U.S. Customs. Jack walked to the far side of the bridge, stopping short of the Mexican Customs. Below the bridge on one side was a clump of bushes. The growth on the opposite side the bank was sparse and he could see dozens of Mexicans walking across the small stream and clamouring up the far bank to enter the United States without clearing customs.

“You’re right, I don’t believe it,” said Jack, getting back in the car.

“Only the honest ones clear customs,” said Adams bitterly. “We don’t have the manpower to rein in the thousands who cross illegally. Most work here during the day and go back the same way at night.”

“That shallow stream they walk through … I thought it was the Rio Grande that separated you from Mexico?”

“That is the Rio Grande. Most of the water has been run off for irrigation long before the river reaches here. Out here it is easy to cross, although there is talk of building a high wall as a barrier, so maybe that will change. I’ll take you back to El Paso and show you other places in the city that aren’t quite as easy as out here in the countryside.”

As they approached El Paso, Adams turned up the volume on a police radio. It was a report of gunfire at the bridge where they had just been. The customs agents in the booth at the end of the bridge said someone was firing shots at them from the clump of bushes on the Mexican side.

“Are we heading back to help?” asked Jack.

Adams shook his head. “It would be over before we got there. They do it all the time. The good news is the Mexicans are lousy shots, except of course for the ones we trained and who were then hired by the cartels.”

“Actually, I’m a crummy shot, too,” admitted Jack. “What did you mean about that last comment? The ones you trained who joined the cartels?”

“It’s not common knowledge and normally I wouldn’t talk about it, but someone has already let the cat out of the bag on the Internet.

“Like toothpaste out of the tube. Hard to put it back in once it’s out.”

“Exactly. What happened was someone in Washington woke up and realized we were losing this so-called War on Drugs. Cartels are popping up everywhere in Mexico and a lot of them are at war with each other as they continue to expand and take over territory. Washington realized it would only be a matter of time before they firmly establish themselves in the U.S. and elsewhere.”

“Like Canada.”

“Yeah, so someone figured it would be a good idea to try and contain the bloodbath in Mexico. Our government trained an elite group of Mexican soldiers to be expert commandos and snipers. I don’t think there would be anything on paper about it, but basically it was implied that the Mexican government could use these guys to selectively take out the heads of some of the cartels.”

“Can’t say as I feel real opposed to that idea,” replied Jack.

“I feel the same way. Except it backfired. The cartels pay a lot more money than the military does. A lot of the commandos we trained were hired by the cartels … and they can shoot the eye out of a scorpion up to a mile away.”

“Something I should probably keep in mind,” said Jack sombrely.

The next spot Adams took Jack was near the centre of El Paso. The Rio Grande basin had widened a little and a high chain-link fence acted as a barrier. Adams parked the car and said, “No use getting your feet wet. Sit and watch a moment.”

Within a couple of minutes, Jack saw two Mexican men and a woman approach the fence from the Mexican side. They walked a short distance to a clump of bushes and suddenly appeared on the American side.

“The fence has been cut there,” noted Adams. “Happens all the time. When we repair it, they cut it again someplace else.”

“Sounds like that wall you said they’re thinking of building is needed.”

“It should help.” Adams gestured to the Mexican side of the border. “I want you to take a good look at all the buildings so you can remember them in case you have to come through that way to escape. We’re only about a mile upstream from the Bridge of the Americas, which is the biggest legal entry and exit point into Juarez. Don’t under any circumstances think of trying to cross that bridge if you’re on the run.”

“The Mexican Customs are bought off?”

“Everyone is. The police, military, customs … everyone.”

“Dangerous country,” replied Jack.

“I doubt you have any idea how dangerous. I stayed awake half the night last night wondering whether I should tell you some stuff.”

“What sort of stuff?”

“I have special military training. Occasionally I’m still used for covert missions. There are some things I’ve learned that people wouldn’t appreciate me talking about.”

“Then don’t tell me.”

“A couple of things I think I should, just so you’ll appreciate what goes on around here. The first thing I already told you.”

“About the U.S. training assassins?”

“Exactly. Something else that happened is we Americans are getting blamed for something in Mexico we didn’t do. There was a third powerful cartel in Juarez and all the kingpins of it were basically family members. They lived in five mansions on a mammoth estate out in the desert. They had their own runway, planes, helicopter crews … and a small army guarding it. One night seven unmarked Huey choppers packed with commandos flew in and killed all the top guys and anyone else they thought was involved with the cartel. The choppers then flew away, apparently without suffering a casualty. Everybody was pointing their fingers at us … but I know it wasn’t us.”

“Another cartel?”

“We thought that, until we found out that afterwards one of the choppers crashed on a mountaintop when they were low-flying at night to escape detection. Where it crashed was what caught our attention. It was on the southern border of Mexico going into Guatemala.”

“Guatemala!”

“Exactly. It made us wonder, as well. Some locals reported a couple of men inside lost their lives, but another chopper stopped and retrieved the bodies. The only thing left behind was the wreckage … which had no markings or identification to indicate where the chopper came from or who owned it. Then we learned another key piece of information that gave us a pretty good idea who was behind it.”

“And it wasn’t the CIA?”

“No. Turns out this particular cartel was supplying drugs to the Palestinians who were selling the dope to make money to buy weapons.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “That makes it rather obvious, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I would say so. We’re getting the heat for what the Israelis did.”

“I had no idea how dangerous Mexico really is. You paint a different picture than the travel agencies do.”

“What I told you is nothing. Right before you got here, I had a partner who went into Juarez. He got kidnapped and tortured for almost three hours by the police. They had him handcuffed to the bars and were dousing him with water and using a cattle prod on him. Luckily, four FBI agents found out where he was and rescued him.”

“Jesus Christ,” replied Jack in shock. “I had heard about the DEA agent who was kidnapped, tortured, and murdered. The one where the Mexican president’s brother was implicated.”

“You heard right. The guy they killed was Special Agent Enrique Camarena. A few key people were eventually arrested, but the president’s brother and a couple of guys under him will never be charged.”

“Did you know Camarena?”

“No … but you know how it feels.”

“It’s like losing a brother, even if he did work in another country.”

Adams nodded silently.

“Guess I was hoping the cartels wouldn’t try it again.”

“That kind of thinking could get you killed. They’re becoming bolder every day. Greg had three years to pension, but he decided not to stay. He quit because of it.”

“You’re working these guys alone? Don’t you have a new partner?”

“No. Just my cop friend in Juarez, but I can’t be seen with him.”

“So you are on your own.”

Adams nodded. “Now that I’ve opened your eyes a little, are you still sure you want to go into Mexico?”

“I’m sure I don’t want to … but I made someone a promise I would do my best to find Lily Rae. I keep my promises.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.”

chapter twenty-five

“Where to now?” Jack asked as Adams drove away from the border.

“This afternoon we’ll go into Juarez. I’ll show you another escape route. Then I’m going to introduce you to my friend over there, Jose Rubalcava. He might be the only guy who could help you out down there.”

“How often do you go into Juarez?” asked Jack.

“A couple times a week, but I only meet Jose a couple times a month. His phones are likely tapped by the cartel, so we use a preset time and place. It’s too risky for him to meet me any more often than that.”

Jack was quiet as he thought of the gravity of the situation.

“We have some time to kill, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at a house in El Paso,” said Adams. “I think about a dozen couriers come and go from it. It was the one my partner was watching when they lured him into Mexico.”

“They still using it?” asked Jack.

“Two days ago there were still some of their cars there.”

“Two days ago?” said Jack. He doesn’t know about yesterday because he was busy driving me around. No wonder he was pissed off at having to pick me up at the airport.

“Yeah. Lots of muscle cars. All with Mexican plates. I have no idea who they belong to. I’m thinking they’ll be moving someplace else and would like to follow them. I know they work for the Guajardo cartel, but that’s all I know.”

“And you think the Mexican uncle I’m looking for is either with the Guajardo cartel or the Sinaloa cartel?”

“Yes. Jose might know which one, based on what we found yesterday in the desert.”

A short time later they drove into a neighbourhood in El Paso with overgrown yards strewn with garbage and the odd partially dismantled or wrecked car.

“That’s the house there,” sighed Adams. “The red one in the middle of the block. Usually the driveway is full of cars. They must have moved out yesterday.”

Jack grimaced as he thought of the frustration Adams must be feeling. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If you hadn’t been running me around you probably would have been here.”

“I wouldn’t call finding what we did yesterday a wasted day.”

“Getting those who kidnapped your partner would outrank that in my book.”

Adams paused as he looked at Jack and said, “Mine, too, but it’s not your fault. Anyway, I’m going to take you home for lunch. Introduce you to my wife. After we’ll head into Juarez.”

“Hold it,” said Jack, looking down the street. The largest, most muscular black man he had ever seen was walking along the sidewalk. He was in a postman’s uniform and had a mailbag slung over his shoulder.

“You looking at the mailman?” asked Adams.

“Why not? Your targets know the house is hot so you’ve got nothing to lose. Why not ask him who lives there? Maybe he’s got some mail for them and you could get some names.”

“Are you kidding?” replied Adams, sounding exasperated. “We’re not even allowed to say hello to a mailman, without going in front of a grand jury and getting a warrant.”

“I’m not talking about opening the mail, just seeing the name on the envelope.”

“I know what you’re saying, but we have privacy laws here that are strictly enforced. Two years ago a postman showed a policeman a name on an envelope. Not only did the mailman lose his job, he was also sentenced to three months in jail.”

Jack grimaced. The idea of an innocent person going to jail for helping the police sickened him. “But for this … can’t you get a warrant?”

“No, I already tried. Despite what happened, having souped-up cars does not mean someone is a drug trafficker and I have no right to infringe on their civil rights.”

“Bet the mailman would help if he thought the situation deserved it.”

“Don’t know what it’s like in Canada, but take a look at that guy. Also take a look at this neighbourhood, which is likely where he lives. Do you really think he is police-friendly?”

“What if he showed me the mail and I passed it on to you. Could you list me as your CI in your application for a warrant and that way honestly deny that you received it from a postman?”

“Underhanded … but yeah, that would work, except he won’t give it to you.”

“Let’s try.”

Adams sighed. “Yeah, okay, I’ll show you what it’s like down here.”

A moment later, Adams and Jack approached the mailman as he stopped in front of the house and retrieved a large handful of mail from his bag.

Adams flashed his badge and said, “I am hoping you can tell me who lives in this place. Any names on the —”

“You all got a warrant?” asked the mailman.

“No,” admitted Adams.

The mailman’s face darkened in anger as he clenched the wad of mail against his chest, purposely hiding the front of the envelopes from any prying eyes. “Then you all should know better than to be askin’,” he snarled. “Get away from me! I don’t even wanna be seen talkin’ to you all.”

Adams looked at Jack as if to say I told you so.

“That’s okay, sir,” said Jack. “We knew it was wrong to ask. It’s my fault. I was hoping … well, never mind. Have a nice day.” Jack then turned as if to walk away and said to Adams, “I just feel so damn sorry for all those poor little black kids.”

“What?” said the mailman. “What did you just say?”

Jack turned around and said, “Oh, uh … I probably shouldn’t be telling you, but what the hell, I think they’re gone, anyway. Have you ever heard of snuff films? Where people are sexually tortured and killed so the film can be sold to perverts to watch and get their kicks?”

“Is that what they’re doing in there?” roared the mailman.

Jack lowered his head and muttered, “I knew I shouldn’t have told you, but we couldn’t get a warrant.”

“Here, take it,” the mailman said, shoving the mail into Jack’s hand.

“Are you sure? I don’t want —”

“Take it!” he ordered.

Jack handed the mail to Adams, who took out his notebook and started writing.

“You all might like to know that three houses down the back alley from this house … on the other side of the alley, there is a policeman living there,” continued the mailman. “In case you need a place to watch it from or somethin’.”

“Thanks,” said Jack, “but we think the people in this house are moving someplace else, which is what we are hoping to find.”

“If they leave a forwarding address, I’ll give it to you all,” said the mailman. “Just swing by in a day or two about this time and I’ll be here.”

“Appreciate that,” replied Jack.

“I never would of thought,” said the mailman, looking at the house.

“Yeah, people make you sick sometimes,” said Jack. “We think they’re also into dope.”

“Oh yeah, for sure. I figured that, what with the cars they got.”

“Here,” said Adams holding out the mail. “Uh …” he then handed the mail back to Jack.

“Keep it,” said the mailman. “I don’t care if I never see it again!”

Jack glanced at Adams, who shook his head. “I guess we have what we need,” said Jack, handing the mail back.

The mailman reluctantly accepted it and Jack and Adams walked back to the car.

“God, that was something,” said Adams. “I never would have believed it.”

“I think most people are basically good,” replied Jack. “Sometimes the law screws up what should be common sense. Make sure you always protect that mailman. I feel crappy for giving him a line like that.”

“It worked.”

“Yes, but if word of it ever leaked, sometime someone will be working on snuff films and they’ll have a door slammed in their face. In this case I weighed what happened to your partner and decided that what I did was acceptable. Rotten, maybe, but acceptable enough for me to live with it.”

When they got back in the car, Adams hesitated before putting it in drive and said, “I think you and I would be good partners. Wish we were.”

“I’ve got a feeling we would be, too. Guess we are for a few days.”

“Mind if we skip lunch? I’d like to go back to the office and check out some of these names. On the way I’ll swing past a nightspot in El Paso that’s popular with both Mexicans and gringos. I could see you ending up there.”

“Good idea. Maybe grab a burger and eat as we drive.”

A short time later, between popping French fries in his mouth, Adams pointed out the nightspot he had spoken about. It was a huge building and was appropriately named The Old Warehouse. Adams said inside was a massive dance floor with a high platform built on each of the four corners of the dance floor. At night, they played country music and dance instructors were on each platform showing people the moves. The outside of the dance floor was surrounded by tables for the patrons to drink.

Adams told him that on some nights women from Juarez would come over to compete in a beauty pageant. He said the place often attracted a couple of thousand people at night.

“Perfect,” said Jack. “Let’s get to your office.” Jack liked The Old Warehouse. Not for being fun, although he was sure it would be, but if he had to use it as a ruse to lose a cover team it would be easy.

Adams and Jack entered the main office and Adams immediately went to his desk. Davidson was in his office talking to Weber and the other two bosses. He saw Jack and gave him a warm smile and waved him in. As Jack entered, Weber gave him a friendly pat on the back.

Conversation was light, with friendly bantering back and forth about the snow in Canada and what Jack must think of the spicy Mexican food.

When Jack noticed Adams stand up from his desk and give him a nod, he knew it was time to go.

“Anything you need, just ask,” said Davidson as Jack left.

Once Jack and Adams left the office, Davidson received a telephone call. “It’s the D.A,” he said to the others. “Close the door.”

Weber complied as Davidson talked to White.

“The profilers are hitting it right on,” said Davidson. “An hour ago the two of them were wishing they could be permanent partners. Adams was also telling the Mountie about some military operations.”

“Perfect,” replied White.

“I’ve kept the profilers apprised. They say what Adams has told the Mountie so far is like foreplay for what he really wants to talk about. The Mountie couldn’t have responded better than if he was working for us. They say Adams will definitely confess to him soon. Maybe even today.”

“Make sure he does it where we want him to do it.”

“We’re on top of it. Adams is an experienced investigator. He’ll do it when he feels there is nobody around but the two of them. Just like a Catholic going to confession.”

“You said building stress was the key. Putting them in a situation where they feel it is them against the world type of thing. Have you done that yet?”

“Not yet, but if Adams doesn’t spill his guts today, we can do it tomorrow when the Mountie goes undercover. Mind you, it may not be necessary. They’re putting enough stress on themselves by going into Mexico.”

“Going into Mexico?”

“Adams is taking him there right now to meet a CI. I think they are already under enough stress, but if need be, we’ll ramp up the pressure tomorrow. Delay allowing the Mountie to go to the Armadillo by saying we’re busy and can’t spare the backup team. Tell him he’ll have to wait an extra hour or so. Not a big deal, but with their personalities it will increase their stress load. If it doesn’t, we’ll come up with something else.”

“I wouldn’t have thought they would have clicked as partners so soon.”

“They really are birds of a feather. It will be a shame to break up their little partnership, but hey, they can become penpals,” said Davidson with a smile.

chapter twenty-six

Adams drove Jack across The Bridge of the Americas and they stopped at the Mexican Customs booth.

“Taking my amigo to show him how to drink tequila,” said Adams.

The customs officer grunted and waved them through.

It was quarter to three when Adams parked the car and the two of them cautiously made their way to an alley.

Jose Rubalcava arrived in the alley a moment later, approaching on foot from the other end. “I see you have brought a friend,” he said.

“He can be trusted,” said Adams.

“I know, otherwise you would not have brought him.” Rubalcava smiled. “And how have you been, John? I have been worried about you, amigo.”

Jack caught the subtle glance Rubalcava gave him when he spoke to Adams. There is something Rubalcava does not want to speak about in front of me. His face looks like there is serious justification for his concern …

“I’m okay,” Adams replied, giving Rubalcava a hard look. “Let me introduce you.”

Introductions were made and Jack explained to Rubalcava why he had come to El Paso and told him he was in Mexico against orders.

“For you as a policeman to come to Mexico is extremely dangerous,” said Rubalcava, “but for you to come here as an undercover agent … I would not classify it as dangerous.”

“You wouldn’t?” asked Jack.

“No. I would classify it as suicidal. It is for good reason your government does not want you here.”

“I know it is dangerous,” sighed Jack, not wanting to dwell on the matter. “Do you have any thoughts or ideas on something I could do to entice Tio into the U.S.? Is there a popular attraction in El Paso I could offer to treat him to?”

“No, from what you say, I suspect Tio is wanted in the U.S., otherwise he would not hesitate to go there,” said Rubalcava.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” admitted Jack.

“We have photos of two men taken by the apartment security camera in Canada for you to see,” said Adams, handing the photos to Rubalcava. “The picture of the guy sneering at the camera is good, but all we have of the other guy is that he is missing his left earlobe.”

Rubalcava studied the pictures briefly. “I do not recognize the man who is sneering, but the man who is missing an earlobe might be Eduardo Cortez. He is an enforcer for the Guajardo cartel. A very dangerous man who was hired from the military. Several years ago, he got in a fight with his brother over a woman and his brother bit his earlobe off.”

“Nice brother,” said Jack.

Rubalcava shrugged. “Eduardo shot and killed him for it the next day.” He handed the photos back to Adams.

“Our Canadian friend took me to an interesting place yesterday,” said Adams, who then told Rubalcava about the place they had found in the desert.

“The area you were in indicates it is the Guajardo cartel you are dealing with,” said Rubalcava. “The Sinaloa cartel does not operate in that vicinity. They also haven’t been here long enough yet to have that sophisticated of an operation. Maybe in a few years they will, but not now.”

“Sort of what I thought,” replied Adams.

“You said it looked like they were clearing out?” asked Rubalcava.

“Half the trailers looked empty,” said Adams. “I also saw men taking furniture out of one of the other trailers.”

Rubalcava nodded thoughtfully. “Rumours have circulated the Guajardo cartel is creating a new smuggling route. A man, who had been drinking too much, bragged in a cantina about making a lot of money. He said he was put in the back of a truck he could not see out of, and that he, along with many other men, were taken to work building a tunnel. He was murdered an hour later, but the rumour is out.”

“Any idea who murdered him?” asked Jack, wondering if it was the same men who murdered Porter.

“I think it was one of my men,” replied Rubalcava, “but I cannot be sure which one.”

Jack inwardly cringed at the comment and the danger Rubalcava endured, yet the man talked in a friendly tone like old friends talking about sports. Except this game was deadly.

“Jack, perhaps I could discover the tunnel if you could identify some of the mules being used?” continued Rubalcava.

“I’ll do my best,” replied Jack.

“What do you think the chances are of following Slater’s truck once it is taken from the motel?” asked Adams. “Do you think they will use the tunnel, or rely on the hiding spot in the truck and cross the border normally?”

“I think they will cross the border normally,” said Rubalcava. “They have much less to fear from our customs than they did when they entered the U.S. from Canada.”

“I bet you’re right,” agreed Adams.

“I also have some business addresses in Juarez that Earl Porter and Clive Slater have invested with,” said Jack, flipping through his notebook. “We asked our liaison officer in Mexico City to make inquiries and he passed it on to the federales. They said the addresses were legitimate companies. The one for Porter apparently makes tourist trinkets and the one for Slater is a fruit company.” He showed Rubalcava his notebook. “Do you want to write them down?”

“I don’t need to,” Rubalcava replied. “I know it. The two streets are separated by the same building, which is owned by the Guajardo cartel. They do run a fruit company from the building, but I suspect for Porter and Slater it was only an excuse for them to explain their trips to Customs.”

Adams’s eyes picked up someone who peered at them from around a corner at the end of the alley. “Don’t look now,” he said. “It’s probably nothing, but someone stuck their head out from around the corner at the end of the alley. Keep talking while I walk in the opposite direction and go around the block and come back on him.”

Jack looked at Rubalcava. His eyes never even flickered and he maintained his friendly composure while taking to Jack. One very cool guy …

“So … Canada, there is lots of snow there, yes?” Rubalcava asked, as Adams walked away.

“Not at the moment,” replied Jack. “It’s a big country. Some places get very cold in the winter, but only the most northern places have snow this time of year.”

“I have never been there. Last year my family and I were given a holiday to go to Israel. It was nice there.”

“I see,” said Jack. Given a holiday? Guess that explains who helped the Israelis with the PLO’s drugs- for-weapons initiative … “I think I know why you were treated so nicely by the Israelis,” he added.

“Oh?”

“A small matter of five mansions in the desert?”

Rubalcava smiled and said, “I wondered how long it would take the Americans to figure it out. I wondered if John had told you.”

“You hadn’t told him?”

“It wasn’t his business, but I am pleased they were smart enough to figure it out.”

“Aren’t you worried about the other cartels finding out?”

“They were happy to get rid of the competition. They think I did them a favour.”

“Sounds like it worked out.”

“Except the two remaining cartels will become even more powerful,” brooded Rubalcava.

“Yes, but at the same time, with your limited resources, it gives you one less organization to focus on.”

“True.”

“Still, you really do put yourself at risk,” said Jack. “Why do you do it?”

Rubalcava sighed and said, “This is not the Mexico it is supposed to be. Here in Juarez … with the Guajardo cartel and the Sinaloa cartel, the greed and lust for power will mean the violence will only get worse.”

“I’ve heard they are killing each other. Maybe not such a bad thing.”

“It is not only each other,” said Rubalcava. “Many innocent people are being murdered. The cartels have no reason to fear anyone. Many honest policemen, judges, and prosecutors have been murdered. And it’s not just people connected to the judiciary. Our citizens are also being murdered. They often kidnap our women right off the street. Sometimes the drug couriers take them to a stash house and use them for several days to entertain themselves while they are waiting for deliveries. Some of the bodies that have been found were terribly mutilated.”

“How can you stand living in Juarez?” asked Jack, watching as Adams turned the far corner in the alley before turning back to face Rubalcava.

“Because it is my country,” replied Rubalcava, sounding indignant. “I am determined to stop men like Guajardo, or the jackals who work for him, like the Carrillo Fuentes brothers, from doing what they are doing. If they are not stopped, this plague will reach far beyond Juarez. You know yourself it has already touched Canada.”

“You have to be the bravest man I’ve ever met,” said Jack.

Rubalcava smiled and said, “I am not that brave. I am just afraid to break a promise to my wife. I promised her I would do my best to make Mexico a better place for our two sons. Someday I hope to see it.”

“Meeting us here … this might not be good,” said Jack, with a slight movement of his head to indicate the alley behind him.

“Ah,” said Rubalcava, as his eyes flickered to the end of the alley behind Jack. “John worries too much. I am sure it is nothing.”

“But as a police commander being away from your office, does it not raise any questions?” asked Jack. “They might wonder where you are going.”

“At this time of day it is okay. Every day I leave my office before three o’clock to pick my two sons up from school … but you have reminded me of something.” Rubalcava retrieved his business card and gave it to Jack and said, “John has a way of contacting me through his wife, but if she is not available, call me yourself if it is urgent. Please memorize the numbers. Do not get caught with this card tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry,” replied Jack. “Tomorrow I will be travelling under a false surname and anything I have, like my real wallet or notebook, I will leave in John’s office for safekeeping.”

“That is good. So if you are in dire trouble, call me and say you were robbed by a policeman and got my number from your consulate. I will say you were probably robbed by someone pretending to be a policeman and hang up. Then I will come to this spot.”

“Thank you,” said Jack.

“I will also go through this alley every day at this time while you are working here, so you can meet me if you have something. I will also do it on my way to work, between eight-thirty and nine. If it is more urgent, then call me.”

“Again, thank you. It is very much appreciated.”

Rubalcava eyed Jack curiously for a moment and asked, “So tell me, Jack, why do you risk coming here? This is not your country.”

Jack retrieved a picture of Lily Rae from his wallet and showed it to Rubalcava. “I promised her mother I would do everything I could to find her. You know how it is with promises. They are something that should not be made if you do not intend to keep them.”

Rubalcava smiled. “That I understand, amigo … that I understand.” He glanced down the alley and added, “If John does not know the identities of the men Tio sends to meet you tomorrow, perhaps he can take their pictures. Maybe I will know them.”

“Thank you. I am hoping I will learn much more when I meet Tio. I may act a bit like a tourist and bring my own camera. He might be willing to have his picture taken with me.”

“He may feel safe enough to do that in Mexico,” noted Rubalcava.

“Until I meet him, I do not know how long it will take to get what I want. It may take a few meetings with him to find out what happened to the girl.”

Rubalcava stared at Jack a moment. “Out of curiosity, do you have children, too?”

“Yes, a baby boy and another baby on the way.”

“Ah,” replied Rubalcava as he reached out and grasped Jack’s hand with both of his and shook it. “We have something in common, you and me … besides our work. It makes us even more like brothers.”

Jack reflected on how much more dangerous Rubalcava’s situation was. I have been in some dangerous situations, but they pale in comparison. He is walking a very high tightrope without a net. How long can he stay before a gust of wind comes …

Adams returned and said, “It was nothing. Only a street vendor.”

Rubalcava smiled at Jack as if to say I told you so.

“Is this other thing still on for tonight?” asked Adams, speaking to Rubalcava.

“Yes, I have heard several policemen will be receiving extra pay tonight, but I do not know how large of a shipment it will be.”

“Same place they used before?”

“Yes,” replied Rubalcava.

“Good. Last time I found their tracks the next day where they crossed.”

Adams looked at Jack and said, “The Sinaloa cartel is running a shipment of marijuana across the border tonight, a mile from the bridge I first showed you yesterday morning.”

“Will you be there?” Rubalcava asked Adams.

“Only to watch and see who picks it up on my side of the border. Don’t worry, I won’t jeopardize you by doing anything.”

“I know you won’t, amigo.”

chapter twenty-seven

As Adams drove Jack back across the Bridge of the Americas, he said, “I forgot to mention to you, you’re invited for dinner tonight.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“It’s already done. Yolanda, wants to meet you. She’s never met a real Mountie before.”

“Is she expecting me to arrive on horseback?”

Adams chuckled and said, “No, I told her about you.”

“Nothing bad, I hope,” said Jack.

“From what I told her, she said you sounded like me … except to say I’m not as genteel.”

“Genteel? What the hell do you mean by that?”

“She meant at handling, what was your word … yes, delicate situations. She suggested I could learn from you.”

“I think we can learn from each other.”

Jack was introduced to Yolanda. She was an attractive woman and her Mexican features suited her well. She was quick to smile and embraced Jack like he was a long-lost relative. The dinner she served consisted of numerous dishes, with Jack’s favourite being a slow-cooked pulled pork. Conversation was light and Yolanda asked Jack about his family. When Jack told her Natasha was pregnant, he saw her give John a quick smile.

After dinner, as they sat at the table sipping white wine, Adams excused himself to go to the washroom.

Yolanda took the opportunity to look at Jack and say, “John speaks quite highly of you. He wishes you were his partner.”

“I really like him, too. I guess for the moment we are partners.”

“I’m slightly jealous of partners,” said Yolanda. “I know they tell each other everything. More than they tell their wives. I never get all the real details.”

Jack could see her eyes studying him. He had the feeling there was something bothering her in particular. “I think Natasha feels the same way, sometimes,” said Jack. “Although she once told me she doesn’t want to know anything secret, so she doesn’t ever have to worry about slipping up.”

“I guess there’s that,” replied Yolanda, frowning slightly.

Adams returned and suggested as Jack had a big day tomorrow, perhaps it was time to drive him back to his hotel.

“I thought you were working tonight?” said Jack.

“Going out around eleven. The shipments usually cross around one or two in the morning.”

“Let me join you,” said Jack. “I know I’m not here long, but I still feel like we’re partners for the time we are together.”

Adams smiled and said, “On one condition. Tonight you carry a piece.”

“I told you I was a lousy shot … but okay, just for tonight.”

At midnight, Adams and Jack turned around at the same bridge southwest of El Paso where someone had previously fired shots at the U.S. Customs hut. Adams then backtracked about a mile and pulled off the highway and parked so the car was hidden by a few clumps of scrub brush.

Adams handed Jack a set of binoculars and said, “If you look left about a quarter-mile across the highway from where we came from, you’ll see a slight ridge on the Mexican side of the border. Last time that is where they came over. All I want to do is try to identify the truck that picks it up on this side.”

“You know it’s a truck?”

“We’re talking marijuana. They wouldn’t be using the police to guard it if the shipment was small. Once they load, I’ll belly-crawl to the road and take a look at the truck when it goes past. The guys guarding it over the border from Mexico should vamoose pretty quickly once the load is delivered. With luck, we’ll wait about five minutes after it leaves and then pull out. We’ll still have plenty of time to catch up to the truck before it reaches the city.”

“Don’t you have any of the other guys from the office to help?”

“I asked Weber and he said he doesn’t want to pay for the overtime for anyone else. Pisses me off, but what else can I do?”

“Typical,” replied Jack. “I often deal with the same problem in Canada.”

“Well, as Weber said, it is no big deal to get a plate number and I should be able to follow a truck easy enough.”

“How long do you think before the deal goes down?”

“You know how dope deals go.”

“Never on time, that’s for sure.”

“Exactly, we could be waiting half the night.”

Davidson and Weber sat in a car four miles away and smiled.

“What do you think?” asked Weber. “Turning up the pressure enough?”

“I would say so. If they sit there an hour or two waiting for the delivery, they’re bound to talk about something.”

“Hope so. I’m getting too old to be out this late,” replied Weber.

“Good thing they’re sitting in the car,” noted Davidson.

It was after one o’clock and Adams was scanning the horizon with the binoculars when he blurted, “Fuck! They’re here, but not where they crossed last time. Look,” he said, passing the binoculars.

Jack focused the binoculars and looked to where Adams was pointing. He could make out the shapes of several men on the Mexican side of the border, but they were slightly to the right of them instead of the left as expected. “They came out practically on top of us,” said Jack, handing the binoculars back.

“Yeah, except if the truck comes from El Paso it probably won’t go past us,” said Adams. “I’m going to have to sneak down the ditch about a hundred yards to get the plate. It could still be another hour or two.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Ten minutes passed as Jack and Adams, both hunched over, crept along a ditch, stopping twice to lie down flat when a car and a truck passed. Eventually they could hear whispered conversation from the Mexicans guarding the drug shipment and knew they had gone far enough.

Adams tapped Jack’s arm and pointed to a small knoll up from the ditch in the direction of the voices. There were a few clumps of dried grass to give them cover.

Jack nodded and they both crawled toward the top of the knoll to watch. As they went, he winced several times when sharp needles from small cactus plants found his elbows and his knees.

Once in place at the top of the knoll, Adams looked through the binoculars and then handed them over.

The binoculars were barely needed, but Jack used them to count about thirty men, many of whom were wearing Mexican police uniforms. Somewhere in the darkness behind the men, they could hear a truck idling.

“Must be a small shipment, maybe only one or two ton,” whispered Adams. “For the really big ones the bad guys hire the military to protect the crossing. You’ll see fifty to a hundred soldiers protecting it.”

Jack felt his stomach knot as he thought of how dangerous Mexico really was for anyone who would dare to take on the cartels.

Another few minutes passed when the sound of a car racing up the highway from El Paso could be heard. It caught everyone’s attention when the car came to a screeching stop a short distance down the road.

The whispers of the Mexican police officers became louder and more excited.

Seconds later, gunshots erupted from the car and bullets flew overhead.

Jack literally kissed the dirt as he stuck his face as deep as possible into a small indentation in the ground. Several of the Mexican police officers returned fire and the bullets whizzed like jet-propelled bees over Jack and Adams in the opposite direction. The truck that had been idling immediately sprang to life and seconds later all of the Mexicans ran back.

“What the hell happened?” asked Jack, as the car on the highway did a U-turn and sped away.

“The car had to be from the Guajardo cartel,” replied Adams. “They must have found out at the last moment what the Sinaloa boys were up to and sent someone out here to fuck with them.”

Adams and Jack both stood up and walked back to the car. On the way Adams asked, “Do you feel like going for a drink?”

“Normally I would jump at the chance, but I want to rent a car from the airport and be at the Armadillo around noon tomorrow. That may give the bad guys the impression I just arrived. I also don’t know what tomorrow will bring, so I think I better take a rain check tonight and get some sleep.”

“I understand. I’ll pick you up in the morning around ten-thirty and drive you to the airport. I’ll also arrange to get a policewoman and check into the motel before you do and put a backup team at that spot about five minutes down the road from the motel.”

“Thanks.”

“How are you going to handle it with my people if the bad guys want you to go to Juarez?”

“I’ll say they want to meet me in the dance spot you showed me. The Old Warehouse. It’s so big they’ll have a hard time knowing if I’m there or not. I’ll also tell the bad guys I want my own car, so I’ll have some control.”

“How will you communicate with me?”

“I’ll tell the bad guys I have to call Damien and then call you on your cell.”

“Who’s Damien?”

“National president of Satans Wrath. He’s the top boss in Canada and is who they will think I represent.

“And once you meet Tio?”

“Party hearty and try to gain his trust to find out what they did with Lily. Once I do that, I’ll try to get anyone who was involved, including the two hit-men who killed Porter, back across the border into El Paso so they can be arrested.”

“And how the hell will you manage that?” asked Adams as they arrived at the car and he unlocked the door.

Jack shrugged and said, “I don’t know yet, I’ll come up with something. It’s what I do.”

Adams stared silently at Jack over the roof of the car.

“Relax,” said Jack. “What could possibly go wrong?” he added with a smile, trying to sound light-hearted.

“What can go wrong is you’ll leave a pregnant widow and a son behind,” said Adams tersely.

Jack quit smiling.

chapter twenty-eight

The following morning, Jack went to the hotel lobby with his laptop and only one of his suitcases. He had decided he would not check out of his room in the event he needed a safe haven later on.

In the lobby he used a pay phone to make a collect call to Natasha. He did not want to risk using the phone in his room in case a nosey hotel clerk listened in, nor did he want to use his cellphone in the event it fell into the wrong hands after and would have a record of his call home.

Natasha answered and Jack could hear Mikey banging a spoon on the tray of his high chair in the background.

“So where you been?” asked Natasha, sounding snippy. “Taking care of business?”

Jack smiled. Usually collect calls meant they could talk freely, but not always. Natasha always acted like a jilted woman until Jack gave her the clearance to talk. Even then, most details were left out.

“I called to tell you I love you,” said Jack, “and Mikey, too.”

“I love you, too,” she said lovingly. “We miss you.”

“I think the only thing Mikey misses is his food if it’s a minute late,” said Jack.

“No, he doesn’t. You’ve seen his face light up when he sees you. Speaking of which?”

“Hope to have a business meeting today with this new partnership. With luck, I’ll be back sometime this weekend.”

“Call me as soon as you can.”

“I will.” Jack knew Natasha worried about him. They had made a pact that rather than have her worry needlessly, he would try to let her know when he was doing something risky and then call her as soon as it was over. In the long run, it was a bit easier on her that way.

Jack saw the Camaro pull up in front of the hotel lobby and knew he had to go. He quickly said goodbye and picked up his luggage and stepped outside.

Adams and an attractive young woman got out of the car as he approached.

“This is Sherry,” said Adams. “My one night-stand,” he added with a grin.

“Don’t you wish,” replied Sherry, rolling her eyes.

After arriving at the airport and giving his laptop to Adams to hold for safekeeping, Jack rented a car. He then went for breakfast to give Adams and Sherry time to ensure the cover team was in place and check into the Armadillo Motel before he arrived.

It was twelve-thirty when Jack arrived at the motel. He spotted the Camaro in front of a unit as well as five other vehicles parked in front of other units. Slater’s truck was not one of them. The other vehicles made Jack feel a little more comfortable. The motel had enough business that the presence of Adams and Sherry should go unnoticed.

The motel manager turned out to be a skinny, nervous-looking man who constantly sniffled. Jack figured he either had a cold or a bad coke habit. Probably the latter …

“Oh, you’re the guy from Canada,” said Sniffles, as he read the hotel registration sheet Jack filled out. “Got a message for ya,” he said, reaching into a beehive of cubbyholes behind him and handing Jack a slip of paper.

The message was short. Hit a deer and gotta wait for a new radiator. Will be there tomorrow afternoon. T’s guys said they would be over to see you. Clive

Jack didn’t care if Slater was there. The important thing was to meet Tio. He got the key to his room and discovered it was a couple of units past where the Camaro was parked. He didn’t look in the darkened room as he went past, but did notice the curtains were open a crack for someone to see out.

Jack hadn’t slept much the night before and was hoping to get a few hours’ shut-eye. He lay on the bed, but his adrenalin wouldn’t allow him to sleep.

He was in the room less than an hour when he heard a vehicle pull up. He looked out the window and saw two Mexican men getting out of a white SUV. They both appeared to be in their mid-thirties.

The passenger was obese, with rolls of fat on the back of his neck like a walrus. He had a thick black moustache and his eyebrows met in the middle. His puffy cheeks gave the impression that his nose had sunken into his face and overall, he was one of the ugliest men Jack had ever seen.

Jack saw him hold up a hand to gesture for the second man to remain at the SUV while he waddled over to the door. Jack opened it as the man was about to knock.

“Señor Jack?”

“Jack will do. Who are you?”

“They call me El Pero,” he said with a smile, extending his hand.

Jack shook the sweaty paw and discreetly wiped his hand on the sides of his cargo pants afterwards.

“¿Habla usted español, Señor Jack?”

“What’s that?” replied Jack. “Are you asking me if I speak Spanish? Sorry, I only know a couple of words.”

In fact, Jack knew enough to get by, but thought it might be in his best interests if the bad guys thought they could speak freely in front of him and believe they were not understood.

“El Pero in Spanish mean The Dog,” said El Pero. “It is what my amigos call me. You can call me by that name, too.”

“Pleased to meet you, El Pero. Come on in.”

El Pero entered and Jack glanced at the man standing by the SUV.

“He is okay,” said El Pero. “He can wait.”

Jack closed the door and gestured to one of two chairs in the room. After they sat, El Pero said, “I came by to welcome you and tell you that tonight I will take you to a party in Juarez.”

“I was expecting Tio to be here,” said Jack. “It may not be safe for me to go to Juarez.”

“Tio?” asked El Pero. “Your uncle is coming?”

“Not my uncle. I’m talking about the man I came to meet. The man who told me to come to this motel,” said Jack.

El Pero’s triple chins shook as he wheezed out a laugh and said, “Now I understand. When I deal with Señor Slater he has heard me call my tio, which in Spanish means uncle. The man I report to is my uncle and that is who you were expecting to meet.”

“Oh, I see … so what is your uncle’s name?”

“Señor Alphonse Franco,” replied El Pero.

Jack smiled. Finding out the uncle’s name had been easy. Meeting him might not be as simple.

“Señor Alphonse Franco told me you had a concern about going to Juarez,” said El Pero. “You are not to worry. He has checked with the federales and the policia. They do not know you. Even if they did, it would be nothing we would not take care of.”

“I see,” said Jack, not overly surprised that the cartel had checked with the police.

“You will be Señor Alphonse Franco’s guest tonight,” said El Pero. “I will pick you up at seven o’clock and take you to meet with him for dinner. We have reserved an entire restaurant for the occasion.”

“That sounds great, but I would prefer to drive myself there.”

“I am sorry, but I must insist,” said El Pero. “My uncle is always very careful that the Americans do not find him. He is afraid any car rented in America could have a satellite tracker installed in it by the authorities. The same rules apply for cellphones in the event the Americans triangulate the signal and locate our position. The only cellphones allowed are ones my uncle obtains through a special connection.”

“Your uncle is a wise man,” said Jack. “That is good. I do not like to do business with men who are stupid or careless.”

“Si,” replied El Pero with a smile. “I will tell him you are happy with the security measures being taken. Now you may wish to sleep. Tonight there will be a big fiesta in your honour.”

Jack waited ten minutes after El Pero left before strolling to the motel office while tossing the key in his hand to announce his intention to leave. He dropped the key off with Sniffles for safekeeping and told him he was going into El Paso to look around. When he walked back toward his car he saw Adams standing in the doorway of his unit without his shirt on and yawning.

Jack pretended to ignore him as he walked past, but said, “Wait fifteen and then meet me at the first gas station you come to on the way back to town.”

Thirty minutes later, Adams and Sherry pulled up beside Jack’s rented car that was parked beside a garage where Jack was pretending to top off the air in his tires.

Adams unrolled the window to talk and Jack said, “Looks like we’re delayed for a day or two. Got a message from Slater when I checked in that he hit a deer and damaged his radiator. I spoke to one of the two Mexicans who showed up and it looks like we’ll have to wait until Slater gets here to get everyone together.”

“Too bad,” replied Adams as he looked at Jack and raised one eyebrow.

Jack gave a nod as though he was in agreement the delay was unfortunate.

“Typical,” said Sherry. “Dopers never do anything on time. Guess we have to become lovebirds again, John.”

“We did manage to snap a couple of photos of the guy who waited outside,” said Adams, “but from the angle they parked, we never got to see the face of the guy you spoke with.”

“That goof gave me the name for Tio. It’s Alphonse Franco. Do you know him?”

“Big Al!” exclaimed Adams. “Damn rights we know him. He’s one of the upper echelons. Only a rung or two down the ladder from the Carrillo Fuentes brothers. He definitely has the political standing to talk to Guajardo himself.”

“Which he is probably doing if they think they will be doing business with Satans Wrath.”

“Man, I didn’t think you would reach this level so quickly,” said Adams.

“Satans Wrath have a huge international reputation with a world-wide drug distribution network. It’s a bit like GM approaching Nissan and suggesting they go into business together. It makes sense that they would send out their upper echelon to talk to me. Who knows, maybe Guajardo himself or the Carrillo Fuentes boys will show up.”

Adams shook his head and said, “Not a chance. That I am sure of. Maybe if you were to really buy three or four ton off of them they might, but there is no way any of those guys would risk showing up yet. Big Al will have to vouch for you himself and oversee things to start with. As close as he is to the top guy, it would cost him his life if things went wrong.”

“That’s good to know. So why won’t Big Al come into the U.S.?”

“We nailed his ass on a major cocaine beef four years ago. He’d be looking at a minimum of twenty-five years if we could get him deported. Unfortunately we can’t. He’s one of the untouchables over there. At the moment he’s got his nephew running things for him in El Paso.”

“El Pero?”

“Yes, that’s his nickname. His real name is Pietro Franco.”

“That’s who spoke with me.”

“I wondered if that was the fat fucker you were talking to. El Pero is halfway up the corporate ladder. Being Big Al’s nephew, I’m certain the cartel has big plans for him.”

“Sounds like everything is going good. We just have to wait. Which is fine by me for the moment. I’m running on empty when it comes to the sleep department. Think I’ll go back to my room in the city and sleep for the next twenty-four hours. You can call the guys off and I’ll give you a shout tomorrow morning when I wake up.”

Adams rolled up his window and started to back up, then stopped and said to Sherry, “I’m going to invite him home for dinner in case he changes his mind about sleeping.”

“I was thinking of asking him the same thing,” said Sherry. “He’s cute.”

“Forget it. He’s married,” replied Adams as he got out the car.

“I know, but that is still no reason for him to be all alone. Besides, back at the motel you mentioned you had already had him over for dinner so —”

“Forget it. I know what you’re thinking. He’s very married.”

“Very married?”

“You know what I mean,” replied Adams, closing the door and walking over to Jack who was about to get in his rental.

“What’s really happening?” whispered Adams.

“El Pero is picking me up tonight at seven to take me to meet Big Al. They’ve reserved an entire restaurant someplace in Juarez. I’m not allowed to take my rental or a cellphone. Big Al is paranoid you guys might use either one to try and trace him.”

“I can’t cover you over there. Our friend can’t be seen, either.”

“I know. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“What if they want you to stay over? If you don’t have a car or a phone —”

“I’ll tell them I have to be at a certain gas station in El Paso in the morning to take a call from Damien. I’ll use it as an excuse to have someone drive me back if the party goes on for too long. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

“So, Juarez it is …” said Adams sombrely.

“Yes.”

The muscles rippled along Adams’s jaw line as he clenched his teeth before turning on his heel and walking away. He knew he had made a mistake by befriending Jack. They were in a war … and liking someone made it all the harder when that person became a casualty.

chapter twenty-nine

At seven o’clock, El Pero arrived at the Armadillo Motel. This time he had a different driver who came to the door, as well. Jack let them both in.

The driver was a husky man who stood as tall as Jack. His hair was short and his eyes darted around the room. His face had the scars of more than one battle, but it wasn’t his face that spiked Jack’s adrenalin. The excitement he felt was because the man was missing an earlobe. He knew it had to be Eduardo Cortez, the man Rubalcava had identified as being an enforcer for the Guajardo cartel.

Jack stuck his hand out and said, “I’m Jack.”

Eduardo looked at El Pero who nodded, so he stood like he was at attention and shook Jack’s hand and said, “I’m Eduardo. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

Jack recalled Rubalcava’s comment that Eduardo had received military training. Judging by the battle scars on his face, Jack suspected his training had frequently been put to use.

“Are you ready?” asked El Pero.

“Yes,” replied Jack. “Is it okay if I take my camera? My boss would like to see who we are planning on doing business with.”

“I do not see why not,” replied El Pero, “but I will take your camera and ask permission when we arrive.”

Jack handed him his camera and he gave Jack an apologetic look. “Señor Jack, I know it is unpleasant and I am sure unnecessary, but there is something we need to do.”

Jack smiled and said, “I understand. My boss is the same way when he meets new people.” With that comment, Jack turned and placed his hands on the wall and spread his feet so Eduardo could search him.

Forty-five minutes later, Jack was in the back of the SUV as it crossed the Bridge of the Americas and stopped at Mexican Customs. He found it slightly disconcerting when the immigration officer recognized El Pero and apologized to him for the inconvenience of stopping him, while hastily waving them through.

Soon after, Eduardo double-parked on the street in front of a restaurant and the three of them got out and walked to the front door. Jack counted four burly men loitering out front. Despite the heat, they all wore light jackets. Judging by the way they studied each approaching car and person, Jack concluded they had received training as V.I.P. bodyguards.

“Parking attendants?” said Jack to El Pero, with a nod of his head to one of the four men.

“If you are parked by them, Jack, you will never move again,” replied El Pero with a grim smile.

The restaurant was large enough to hold sixty customers and had a bar at the far end. The only customers present were a group of fifteen men who were sitting at a few tables pushed together in the middle. They were all casually dressed and appeared to be enjoying themselves.

El Pero’s uncle was easy to spot. Big Al was the biggest man at the table and when their eyes met, Jack could see his face looked like an older version of El Pero’s ugly mug.

The men sitting on the same side of the table as Big Al scrambled to move their chairs out of his way as he rose and lumbered over to meet Jack. It was then that Jack noticed a huge difference between Big Al and El Pero. Big Al was muscular to the point that Jack suspected his physique was a result of weight-lifting and steroid use. Overall, he looked like he could have been a wrestler.

Jack smiled and accepted his firm handshake like they were already good friends and looked into the dark eyes studying him. “Muchas gusto, señor,” said Jack, intentionally stumbling over the words and mispronouncing them as he shook his hand.

Big Al smiled back, exposing a gold front tooth. “You speak Spanish.”

“Sorry,” said Jack, shaking his head. “It took me all day to learn to say that.”

“Well … you said it very well.” Big Al smiled. “I am Señor Alphonse Franco, but many of my gringo friends call me Big Al. It is a nickname I rather like. Come, I have saved you a seat beside me.”

“Are we going to be talking business in front of all these men?” asked Jack.

“Business? No, no, no. First we eat and get to know each other. After, I have something planned to entertain ourselves. Everything is on me. If you see something …” Big Al smiled, nudging Jack with his elbow and added, “or perhaps someone you like, let me know. Tonight I want you to have fun. Business can come later.”

Jack sat alongside Big Al and El Pero sat on the other side of him. Eduardo sat across from them. Next to Eduardo was a man whom Jack recognized. It was the same man who sneered into the apartment security camera. The man he had nicknamed as El Burla. Tonight is turning out very well.

Jack saw Big Al was drinking Taittinger champagne and requested the same. As soon as he was served, Big Al raised his glass and said first in Spanish and then in English, “Here is to the peoples of the world getting to know each other.”

Jack clinked glasses with Big Al and took a sip. When Big Al continued to gulp the entire glass, Jack followed suit.

A waiter standing behind them immediately refilled both glasses. Jack raised his glass and said, “Water separates the people of the world, but wine unites us.”

Big Al laughed and said, “Yes, water like the Rio Grande.” He then translated in Spanish, which elicited a few smiles around the table.

“Señor Jack,” said Big Al, “you have met my nephew … he is handsome like his uncle, yes?”

“Exactly what I was thinking when I walked in,” said Jack.

“We call him El Pero because he is like a dog. Isn’t that right, El Pero?” laughed Big Al, while ruffling El Pero’s hair.

El Pero beamed at the attention he received from his uncle. It was obviously an inside joke, but Jack smiled as if he understood.

The drinking continued, along with general conversation mixed with a few crude jokes while waitresses brought what seemed like a never-ending assortment of different dishes.

As the night progressed, Jack asked if he could have his camera back so he could take some pictures to show his boss how well he was being treated. Big Al readily agreed and had one of his men take a couple of pictures with Jack’s camera.

“That is a good idea,” said Big Al. “I also have some people who would like to know you are having a good time. Jack smiled and posed with drink in hand while several more photographs were taken with cellphone cameras.

Jack tried to act like he was really enjoying himself. A role he found difficult to do while some of the men, laughing with evil delight, groped terrified waitresses and yanked their blouses open to kiss their breasts. The liquor behind the bar was also freely ransacked.

Jack ’s role of portraying a member of an outlaw motorcycle gang left him in a position where such behaviour was to appear acceptable to him, even applauded. The more he was forced to smile and laugh, the more his anger boiled inside him. As the night continued, he found himself frequently checking his watch, wishing the sickening spectacle was over.

It was midnight when Big Al mentioned it was time to leave and go to another place he had reserved.

“Another place?” asked Jack.

“A quieter place to drink and mingle with each other,” he said. “I know some of my men wish to meet you. Your organization has gained a certain popularity it would seem.”

Jack welcomed the chance to meet one of Big Al’s men in particular. The man who sneered and thumbed his nose at the security camera before committing murder.

“Sounds great, but I shouldn’t be too late,” Jack said. “I have to be at a certain gas station in El Paso early tomorrow morning. It has been arranged that my boss will call me there.”

“Ah, I see. That would be Señor Damien,” said Big Al.

“You know him?” asked Jack, feeling his stomach knot.

“No, but his reputation is highly regarded.”

“Yes, I certainly think the world of him. But of course, for now, it is Damien’s idea you only deal through me. We do not want word of this meeting getting out until everything is running smoothly. We don’t want it to cause problems with the people we have been dealing with. There are still some business transactions that haven’t been concluded yet.”

“I understand, amigo. We keep this secret. I only contact you and you speak for Señor Damien. Do not tomorrow … worry in the morning,” said Big Al, whose command of the English language had deteriorated slightly in accordance with the amount he had drank. “I will have my men take you back in time to call the gas station.”

As the entourage walked out of the restaurant, Jack saw the owner of the restaurant thanking Big Al profusely for gracing his restaurant with his presence. A scene Jack found rather pathetic, considering nothing had been paid for.

Jack rode in the back of a silver SUV with Big Al and El Pero sat in the front with a bodyguard who was driving. The rest of Big Al’s men piled into an assortment of other vehicles and formed small parade as they all drove away. Soon their driver decided it was too slow and quickly outdistanced the other vehicles.

As they drove, Jack saw the driver occasionally studying him through the rear-view mirror. Jack didn’t know if it was the man’s penetrating eyes, or how he professionally handled the SUV through the traffic, but his gut instinct told him the man was a police officer. When their eyes locked momentarily, Jack smiled and said hello.

The driver frowned and turned his attention back to the street in front of him.

“He doesn’t speak English very well,” explained Big Al.

Eventually they stopped on the street in front of a small boutique hotel. A minute later, the rest of the entourage arrived. Jack saw the four bodyguards — the same ones who had been at the restaurant earlier — bail out of another SUV and take up positions beside the front door of the hotel. Two of the bodyguards held MAC-10 mini-machine guns and strutted about looking as menacing as they could.

The entire entourage remained parked, blocking traffic, as the passengers casually got out. Nobody waiting had the nerve to show their impatience by blowing their horns.

“I have more men inside,” smiled Big Al as his eyes studied Jack’s face for a response.

Jack nodded politely. He knew Big Al was putting on a show for him. Had the bodyguards really been necessary, their driver would not have broken ranks with the rest of the vehicles and the hotel would have already been secured by bodyguards before they arrived.

Jack was pleased. If he respects me enough to try and impress me, he might be willing to answer a few questions …

The hotel was a two-storey building with a flat roof built in traditional Spanish architecture and had four granite columns across the front. The entire building was painted pink and set off from the rest of the buildings on the street by a lane down each side leading to a parking lot and back alley.

It was when Jack got out of the SUV he noticed the sign on the roof. El Toro Solitario, which in English meant The Lonely Bull.

Big Al slapped him on the back and said, “Remember, tonight everything is my treat. I insist upon it.”

Oh shit … it’s a brothel.

chapter thirty

The lobby floor of the brothel consisted of several clusters of sofas, chairs, and coffee tables. The room was open to the roof. A bar built of teak stretched along one side of the room and on the opposite side, a curved spiral staircase with teak railings led up to the second level where a horseshoe-shaped walkway led to the rooms. Jack counted seven rooms on each side and four rooms across the back. One large chandelier hung down from the centre.

The only patrons were the ones arriving in Big Al’s entourage and it was obvious he had reserved the hotel. The attractive young women, who outnumbered the men two to one, were dressed in an assortment of low-cut dresses or blouses unbuttoned enough to reveal lots of cleavage. Several said hello to Señor Franco, who smiled and clutched Jack’s arm, identifying Jack as his special friend.

Big Al took a seat on a sofa with each arm draped around a prostitute and gestured for Jack to sit on another sofa facing him. Jack remained standing and saw that several of the men were congregating at the bar, including Eduardo and El Burla.

“Big Al,” said Jack, “you mentioned some of your men wanted to meet me. I would like to get to know them, as well. Maybe have a few drinks. Do any of them, besides El Pero and Eduardo, speak English?”

“Si, Jack. Several do.” He looked toward El Pero, who was laughing while playfully pretending to bend a prostitute over the back of a chair. Deciding to leave him to his fun, Big Al then yelled in Spanish for Eduardo to look after Jack and introduce him to some of the men.

Eduardo smiled, waving his arm and said, “Come, Señor Jack. I will introduce you to some of the hombres.”

The first man Jack met was El Burla, whose real name was Berto. Upon introduction, Berto was polite and his face showed nothing but respect as he offered a firm handshake. Being Big Al’s special friend may have its advantages, thought Jack.

Berto then helped himself to a bottle of KAH Tequila Blanco from the bar and poured everyone a drink. The tequila bottle was in the shape of a human skull and Jack’s thoughts returned to Lily again.

Over the next half hour, Jack drank with Eduardo and Berto, as well as several other men. The conversation was friendly, peppered with a few crude comments about some of the women. It was also evident Berto and Eduardo were good friends and Jack had the impression they had received military training together.

Jack noticed that El Pero seemed to be having trouble finding a prostitute. Unlike the other men who had prostitutes continually swarming around them, with El Pero they would either vanish as soon as he approached, or would disappear shortly after. Jack sensed it was more than just his ugliness that drove them away.

Later, Jack saw El Pero finally corner one young prostitute, who laughed and smiled politely, but then made an excuse to go to the washroom. Jack watched as she walked away, only to be approached and reprimanded by two other prostitutes. It was apparent from the gesturing that the young prostitute was afraid of El Pero and momentarily broke down in tears before being shoved back in his direction.

A prostitute in a Mexican whore house is upset with having to go with El Pero? He really must be one sick bastard …

“Señor Jack,” said Berto, interrupting his thoughts. “Eduardo and me, we think Canada is very cold … yes?”

Jack caught the inquisitive look on Berto’s face and knew he was wondering if Big Al had told Jack about who did the hit on Porter. He also caught the annoyed look Eduardo gave Berto and suspected it was not a subject he thought should be discussed. “Oh, so it was you two who went,” replied Jack.

“I did not say we go … I say we think it is very cold.”

“That’s okay,” replied Jack with a smile. “I was told someone was sent, but I was not told who. You two must be highly regarded to be selected for such an important task. I am truly honoured to have met you.”

Berto exchanged a quick smile with Eduardo at the compliment. “Thank you, Señor Jack. So you do know why we were sent?”

“Yes. You needed to teach somebody manners. That it’s not polite to gamble with other people’s money.”

Berto laughed and said, “Yes, you are right, but he did not think it polite when I slit his throat, either.”

Jack laughed along with Eduardo.

“What you talk about?” roared Big Al, placing a firm grip on Jack’s shoulder.

Jack had not realized Big Al was behind him and felt his adrenalin kick in. How much did he hear? Will he be upset that these two morons were talking in front of me?

Jack turned and smiled. “We were talking about taking care of business.”

“About our trip to Canada,” said Berto, smiling as he ran his index finger across his throat.

“I do not want nobody talk business tonight,” said Big Al, looking at Jack curiously. “Come,” he said, steering Jack away by his shoulder. “Bring your drink. There are many señoritas here who wish to get to know you much better.”

“Good, but I better switch to beer,” said Jack.

“You no like tequila?” asked Big Al.

“I like it, but I am also familiar with that old expression.”

“What expression?”

“One tequila, two tequila, three tequila, floor,” replied Jack, accepting a Corona before moving away from the bar.

Big Al chuckled and as they wandered toward a sofa Jack stopped him and said, “Big Al, this is all great, but Damien is expecting me to have a couple of business details resolved when I speak to him tomorrow morning. I do not want to get in trouble. Please, I would like to talk about a couple of things.”

Big Al sighed and said, “Okay, amigo. I do not want you to have any problems with your boss. I have bosses, too, so I understand. I was told to show you a good time.”

“I am having a good time, I can assure you.”

“Good. You know, before you come here, we were thinking you would look at us as enemy because we opened a new store in Canada.”

“You mean you were worried we would look at you as competition?”

“Yes, that is what I say. So my bosses are very happy you have come to us. We want you to be happy and everybodies make mucho dinero.”

“Exactly. We feel the same way. If we work together, everyone will be rich.”

“So what business details does Señor Damien want to know about now?”

“We want to be cautious. Four or five ton a year is a lot of money.”

“Si, but we will give you a good price.”

“I’m sure you will, but at what price and where do we pick it up? If we have to come to Mexico —”

“No, no. We will bring it to you. Getting into Canada across the American border is easy. We drive trucks there every week.”

“The border from Mexico into the U.S. is much more guarded. What if our shipment is taken down here?”

“Oh, here is no problem, especially now.”

“Now?”

“Before we used planes to land in the desert where we had trailers for storage. But now that the Americans have increased security, we think it is no longer a good place.” Big Al glanced around and smiled broadly before whispering, “Now we have la Casa Blanca. It took us two years to make.”

“Casa Blanca? Like the movie? I don’t understand.”

“Movie? I don’t know what movie. Our Casa Blanca is nicknamed for the colour of cocaine. Maybe the same as the American Casa Blanca.” Big Al grinned.

“The American White House?”

“Si, si,” laughed Big Al. “Maybe they build it with narco dollar, too.”

“I still don’t understand,” said Jack.

“Our Casa Blanca … the house is not even white … but it has a hole in the ground to America. Two miles long.”

“You have a stash house with a tunnel leading into the United States?”

“Yes,” said Big Al proudly. “Outside of Juarez. It took two years to build and mucho dinero … but we do not need to worry about getting caught.”

“Sounds great.”

“Yes, so don’t worry about your cocaine getting arrested … no what you say?”

“Seized.”

“Yes. But even if it was seized, it would not matter for you. Until we deliver it to you, it is not your problem. It is our problem.”

“I see.”

“So you can tell Señor Damien not to worry, okay?”

“Yes, I will tell him.”

“But for the price you pay,” continued Big Al, “I will still need talk to my bosses. How much you want, how often you want it … it will all have to be worked out.”

“That I can get back to you on, but there are still a couple of loose ends that have us worried.”

“Loose ends?”

“Damien is a cautious man. He is worried because you murdered Earl Porter.”

“Why? Señor Porter take our money … we take his life. Very fair trade.”

“We agree, but worry it could attract police attention to you. If they find out it was Mexicans who did the hit, the police will start looking at the Mexicans in Canada. Next time it would be better if you told me and we could take care of the problem for you.”

Big Al nodded thoughtfully and said, “That maybe good. I will talk to my bosses about that.”

“Great.”

“So now we party, yes?”

“Uh, one more little thing to make sure there are no loose ends. We understand Earl Porter brought his girlfriend to El Paso. What happened to her?”

“Don’t worry about her, amigo. El Pero took care of it.”

“El Pero took care of it?”

“Si, El Pero and my driver,” Big Al said with a shrug, with a nod toward the man who had driven them to the brothel. “They take care of his girl the same night he take our money. After that, Berto and Eduardo go to Canada and take care of him. You tell Señor Damien no problema.”

Jack felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him. He’d known the odds of Lily being alive were remote, but he had still held out hope. For a brief instant he allowed himself the fantasy of grabbing a gun from a bodyguard and killing Big Al, El Pero, and the driver.

“You okay, Jack?”

“Yes,” replied Jack, trying to sound upbeat, while in his heart he wondered how and when he should break the news to Lily’s mom.

“Good,” said Big Al. “Now it is time to be happy. Señoritas! I bring my special friend back.”

Jack sat on an overstuffed leather chair while Big Al sat on a sofa beside him. Two prostitutes sat on either side of Big Al again, while a third sat on his lap. Within seconds, a young prostitute sat on Jack’s lap.

“Pura vida! Yes, Jack?” said Big Al as he raised a glass of tequila, before pausing and saying, “Pure life!”

“Yes, pure video!” replied Jack, raising his bottle of Corona in response.

Big Al smiled over Jack’s mispronunciation and took another gulp of tequila.

Jack’s brain was still numbed over the discovery of Lily’s murder and he took a long swallow of beer, but coughed when he felt the prostitute slowly run her hand up his thigh and lightly squeeze his penis.

“Chile grande!” she exclaimed, to the laughter of the other prostitutes.

Jack forced a smile and asked her if she would bring him another beer. When she got off his lap, he stared at Big Al. So you’re one of the untouchables … safe here in Mexico. You have no idea how bad I would like to put a bullet between your wretched evil eyes …

“I think she likes you,” said Big Al, looking at the young prostitute who went to get Jack a beer. “You like her, yes?” he added, with a nod of his head for Jack to take her upstairs.

“She’s very pretty,” replied Jack. I hate you so much… Fuck it, quit fantasizing and do what I can to get the others …

Jack smiled and said, “There is one small favour I wanted to ask you.”

“Anything, amigo.”

“There is a bar in El Paso called The Old Warehouse. I have been told by one of my bosses I must go to it. He said it is a lot of fun. He said the place is huge. Apparently they teach country dancing and sometimes have beauty contests there.”

“The Old Warehouse?” replied Big Al.

“The Old Warehouse,” said the prostitute beside him. “I have been there. I did not win.”

“I would offend my boss if I did not go,” continued Jack, “but it would be no fun to go by myself. I was thinking about tomorrow night.”

“I am sorry, Señor Jack. I cannot go to El Paso.”

“No, I understand, but I thought perhaps a few of your men who speak English could come with me. I really like El Pero. He seems like a guy who likes to have fun. Also Berto and Eduardo look like they know how to have a good time. Maybe have your driver take us so we can all drink?”

“For El Pero, Berto, and Eduardo to go to El Paso is not a problem. I will tell them, but the driver, he is only for me. Eduardo does not drink much. He will be okay to drive.”

Jack was happy enough to get the three he did and knew not to push it any further. He smiled. “Maybe they could meet me there around eight tomorrow night at the entrance.”

“Yes, yes, I will tell them,” said Big Al, looking toward the bar.

“I can tell them,” said Jack, getting up quickly as the young woman returned. She handed him his beer and wrapped her arm around his waist as he walked over to El Pero.

El Pero was delighted he had been picked for another night of fun.

See how much fun it is tomorrow night when I find an excuse to get you alone and show me where her body is, you fat piece of shit….

El Pero called Berto and Eduardo over and told them they had also been picked by Señor Jack to party with him tomorrow night. Their smiles said they were looking forward to it.

Jack smiled with them and stood talking idly for a few minutes while the prostitute vied for his attention.

Jack’s plan was to claim he was tired, feeling ill, and had to leave, but Big Al had other ideas.

“Señor Jack! Come!” ordered Big Al. “I have an idea. Everyone a picture. Everyone!” He pushed one prostitute away from him on the sofa and had Jack sit beside him. Except for a few people who were using the rooms on the second floor, everyone else crowded around to get in the picture.

Jack smiled and posed with Big Al, who gave a toast and said, “To new amigos and a golden future.”

As Jack was about to clink to the toast, Big Al said, “Wait! Not yet.” He yelled something in Spanish too fast for Jack to understand. The message became clear when most of the prostitutes exposed their breasts and leaned in to smile for the picture.

As soon as the photo was taken, Jack received permission to take a few pictures himself, making sure he included some of the bodyguards … particularly the one who helped El Pero take care of Lily.

When Jack put his camera away, he told Big Al he was tired and needed to go.

“But you have not taken a puta yet,” said Big Al, somewhat suspiciously.

“They’re beautiful, but I have had very little sleep and am feeling a little sick,” replied Jack, rubbing his stomach for emphasis.

“I paid much money for this,” growled Big Al. It was obvious any façade of politeness had vanished with the number of drinks he had consumed. “You are a big, tough biker … I think you should like to fuck women? At least one before you go,” he added, menacingly.

“Put it this way,” said Jack, “the last time I slept with a hooker, the condom broke. After that, my cock turned green and black. I thought it was going to fall off. The guys were calling me the rotten pickle. ”

Big Al look surprised, but then laughed and said, “That is very funny. I am sorry for you, but it sounds funny.”

“It is something I will not do again,” said Jack, looking down at the crotch of his pants and shaking his head as if recalling the incident.

“These girls see a doctor. He says they are all clean,” noted Big Al.

“That’s what I was told last time.”

In reality, Jack knew that, with the exception of AIDS, members of Satans Wrath looked at catching venereal disease like most people would look at catching the common cold. The look, however, on Big Al’s face said his suspicions were somewhat alleviated.

“Okay, no problem I understand,” said Big Al, getting up. “Puta not for you. We will go outside and I’ll tell my men.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” said Big Al, with a sideways glance at Jack that left him feeling unsettled.

Big Al yelled to a couple of his men who joined them, along with El Pero, as they stepped outside. Big Al then went over and spoke to one of the bodyguards, who nodded.

Jack felt relieved, thinking Big Al was getting him a ride back to El Paso, but it was short-lived.

“That one is pretty, yes, Jack?” yelled Big Al, pointing at a young Mexican couple in a car creeping forward in a line of traffic.

Jack glanced at the young couple. They were talking and laughing about something. The woman had long black hair and flashed a beautiful smile … until a look of terror engrossed her face.

Before Jack could respond, the bodyguards surrounded the car with their weapons pointing at the young man. He stopped the car and seconds later, El Pero dragged the screaming woman by her hair from the car. The terrified husband was told to drive or he would never see her alive again. He started to get out of the car when a bodyguard put a gun to his temple.

His wife screamed for him to leave. When he hesitated, she begged that it would be okay … and said he needed to look after their baby.

“You go home and wait,” he was told by a bodyguard. “Maybe then you will see her again.”

Tears ran down her husband’s face and he got back in the car and slowly drove ahead, stopping momentarily when he got to the end of the block, only to continue on.

“This one is not a puta,” said Big Al, glowering at Jack.

El Pero gripped the woman by her arm and forced her through the doorway into the brothel, followed by Big Al. Jack felt both sickened and dazed as he stepped back inside.

“You take her now,” ordered Big Al. “Then my men will drive you back to El Paso.”

chapter thirty-one

Jack knew to embarrass Big Al in front of his men could have a deadly consequence, so he grabbed him by the arm, taking him aside before whispering, “This is bullshit!” The tone of his voice was venomous. “I can’t believe you did this!” he hissed.

“You be careful how you talk to me!” warned Big Al, jerking his arm from Jack’s grip as his face reddened in anger. “You no want puta … okay. I get you a woman who is not a puta. Why don’t you want her? I have heard many stories about Satans Wrath. Something does not seem right with you.”

Jack shook his head and tried to sound apologetic as he said, “There is something I need to explain to you.” He placed a hand on Big Al’s shoulder, drawing him closer as if he was telling him a secret. “I was ordered by Damien to keep a low profile and not to draw any attention. It’s not just the police we are worried about, but also the people we currently deal with. If they know we are coming to you, they might try to screw us on the final shipments. That’s why I came alone so as not to attract attention and why it is important you only deal with me. My mission here is supposed to be secret.”

“It is a secret. Only my men know who you are. These putas,” he said, with a wave of his arm toward the prostitutes, “that woman,” he added, with a nod toward the terrified woman being clutched by El Pero, “they only know you are a gringo. They do not know who you really are.”

Jack gestured to the street and said, “Perhaps, but for you to go out on a busy street when I am with you and snatch a woman …” Jack shook his head in admonishment and continued, “Let her go. Damien would be furious if he found out. This could jeopardize everything.”

Big Al paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. He did not want to risk blowing a multimillion dollar business relationship by angering Damien. His own bosses would not forgive him … a mistake he knew could cost him his life. Still, he was not ready to relent yet. He looked at Jack and said, “It is okay here. No problema. The police will do nothing.”

“You can’t be sure.”

“No, it is safe,” replied Big Al. He pointed to two bodyguards, including the men who had driven them to the brothel and said, “They are policia, but they work for me. Nobody will say anything. We do this all the time. If the husband or anyone complains, we will kill them.”

“Maybe you’re right,” replied Jack, “but I can’t risk it. If something was said, Damien would not understand and blame me for screwing up. Especially on the first night I meet you. I really like you, amigo. I think we have a lot in common and I want to make sure I get to keep coming back. I like your men, too. I’m looking forward to partying with them tomorrow night. I am sure we will do a lot of business together, but for now I must be extra careful.”

“Okay,” sighed Big Al. “If you are okay … then I am okay.”

“I’m okay. This has all been great. A night I won’t ever forget, but I am tired and need to get some rest.”

Big Al nodded and said, “I will tell one of my men to drive you back to your motel.”

“Thank you.”

Big Al spoke to El Pero and said, “It is okay. Señor Jack does not want the woman. He is tired and will be leaving.”

Jack was shaking Big Al’s hand as a gesture of goodwill when he noticed an evil grin cross El Pero’s face when he looked at the woman and said, “So, the gringo does not want you. Do not worry, I want you.”

The woman cried and pleaded as El Pero shoved her onto the staircase, before grabbing her by the wrist. It made Jack want to retch. He knew he had to try and do something.

Jack looked at Big Al and gestured to the woman and said, “I hadn’t realized how pretty she is. All dressed up for something … she really is a beauty.”

“Yes,” agreed Big Al, looking at her bare legs thrashing out from under her skirt as she was dragged up the stairs.

“You fight me,” yelled El Pero in Spanish, “and you will never see your family again!”

“I’m having second thoughts,” said Jack. “You have already gone to so much trouble to get a woman for me … it would be rude of me not to accept, yes?”

Big Al looked surprised, but then smiled and said, “Yes, it would be rude. Have you changed your mind?”

“Yes, but perhaps we do not ever need to mention it to Damien, okay?”

Big Al chuckled and put his finger to his lips and said, “It will be our secret, amigo.”

“Thank you. I am sure you and I will have a long friendship,” replied Jack.

El Pero was at a bedroom doorway at the back of the brothel when Big Al yelled to him that Señor Jack had changed his mind.

El Pero looked at the woman and spluttered something, while stomping his foot for emphasis. He was clearly upset, but turned to Big Al and nodded in compliance.

Jack hurried up the stairs and took the woman by the arm from El Pero.

“Call to me when you are finished,” said El Pero. “I will have her next.”

Jack nodded and roughly steered the woman into the room and closed the door.

“Please, señor,” begged the woman.

“You speak English?” asked Jack.

“Yes … a little,” she cried. “Please do not do this to me. Today my husband and I, we be married for two years. Tonight is the first time we go out … please, señor. I see this place has many beautiful women who want to please you. You don’t need me.”

“Listen,” said Jack quietly. “Do not speak until I am finished. I am not going to rape you.”

“Oh, señor! Thank —”

Jack slapped his hand over her mouth and tersely whispered, “Do not speak until I explain to you what will happen.” He waited until she nodded before taking his hand from her mouth. “Even though I won’t rape you, these other men downstairs will. I am going to try and help you escape. If you are caught, it will be very bad for the both of us. Do you understand?”

Her wide eyes stared back at him as her brain translated what he said. Finally she nodded and whispered, “Yes, I understand.”

Jack quickly checked out the room. It was sparse, with a ceiling fan twirling over a double brass bed covered with a white sheet. A small, dark bathroom was near the door. At the back of the room, curtains partially hid a window overlooking the back alley and parking lot.

Jack looked out the window and did not see anyone. He pushed the window up with the heels of his hands and was relieved to discover that it slid open easily. He looked down and tried to gauge the distance to the ground. If a person hung from the window edge and dropped, they might not injure themselves.

A tap on his shoulder caused him to step aside as the woman peered out.

“It is not too high,” whispered Jack.

She looked at him and said, “If it was ten rooms up it would not be too high. I would rather jump than have my husband see me every day and be reminded of the shame.”

“The shame?”

“Shame he will feel for not protecting me. My shame for sleeping with another man.”

“There should be no shame. You chose life over death. There was no other option.”

“Gringos think different than Mexicans. There would be terrible shame.” She pointed to the bed and suggested, “Maybe we could use a sheet to —”

“No, to use a sheet would take time. It has to look like you escaped quickly. If you climb out over the ledge, I will hold your hands and lean out and lower you as much as I can. We are only up one storey. I don’t think you will hurt yourself. Once you are free, I will go out the door and say I am finished with you. Then I will yell as if you jumped out the window. Comprende?”

The woman nodded, but stared at him for a moment and asked, “Why are you doing this? Maybe they will kill you.…” she added, glancing back at the door.

“Consider it an anniversary present. There is one more thing … take this,” said Jack as he handed her a hundred dollars in American money. “It’s so you can call your husband or pay for a taxi to get you away from here.”

“That is a lot of money, señor. Twenty dollars is enough for a taxi.”

“Take the hundred,” said Jack, forcing it into her hand.

She accepted the money and was about to stick it in her bosom, when she paused and looked at Jack. “They need to think you took me to bed.”

“I know,” said Jack, “I’ll mess up the bed,” he added, as he turned and ruffled up the sheet and tossed a pillow on the floor. When he looked back, he saw the woman had turned her back to him and was slipping off her panties from under her dress. She dropped her panties on the floor and a moment later, she tossed her bra on the bed, mussed up her hair, and ripped a couple of buttons off her blouse.

“Thank you,” whispered Jack. “It looks more convincing.”

El Pero was at the bar when Berto nudged him and pointed to Jack, who was leaning out over the railing above with his shirt unbuttoned. Jack waved and gave them the thumbs-up sign, before turning around and yelling, “Hey!” before running back into the room.

Seconds later, El Pero and Berto both burst into the room. They saw Jack leaning out the open window and cursing. El Pero stuck his head out the window, but the woman was gone.

“I am sorry, El Pero,” said Jack. “I never thought she would jump out the window.”

El Pero cursed and kicked her panties across the floor.

Jack breathed a sigh of relief and thought of an old undercover expression often used in response when asked about how an undercover operation went. A few drinks, a few laughs … nobody got hurt. He knew the young woman who escaped would never be laughing, but he felt giddy because she had escaped.

Jack only half listened as El Pero and Berto spoke to each other. His thoughts were elsewhere. It’s been a good night … I’ve done all I can … now get the hell out of here …

“Come on, El Pero,” said Berto in Spanish, “don’t be angry in front of this man. He feels bad already. Besides, tomorrow we have a delivery at Casa Blanca to look after.”

“So?”

“Don’t you still have that red-headed gringo bitch out there to play with? Or have you killed her already?”

Jack tried not to reveal his shock. Did I really hear what I thought I did? He knew some Spanish, but wasn’t completely fluent. He held his breath, listening intently for El Pero to reply.

A rhythmic, pulsating sound from the ceiling fan overhead filled the room, sounding like you were inside a giant pumping heart as the seconds ticked past. Jack waited, resisting the urge to grab El Pero and shake the answer out of him.

El Pero did not respond as he stared at the floor. Slowly he bent over and picked up the panties and held them to his face and inhaled deeply. When he was done he slowly lowered them and looked at Jack and in English said, “I can smell her fear. It is like a good brandy with dessert. She was good to have, yes?”

“Yes,” Jack replied, while fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, trying to look disinterested in whatever was being said.

El Pero turned back to Berto and continued in Spanish and said, “Yes, the red-headed one might still be alive, but I am tired with her. She acts like she is dead when I fuck her. Next time she will be.”

“Do you not give her the choice like the other women? The cattle prod or you. She will be happy to please you.”

“I have used the prod, but she has quit eating and is becoming too weak to please me. It is time to get a new one. I thought tonight we had.”

Jack experienced intense emotions that seesawed back and forth between anger and joy. As he stepped out into the hall, a new plan formulated in his mind.

I’m far from being finished here tonight …

chapter thirty-two

Jack saw Big Al, who was naked, peering out at him from behind a door from another room.

“What happened, amigo?” Big Al yelled to him. “I heard you yell. What is all the fuss?”

“When I was done with the woman, she jumped out the window before El Pero could have a turn,” replied Jack.

Berto came out of the room twirling the woman’s panties on his finger and then threw them over the railing at one of the men below. His aim was good and it landed on the man’s head, bringing a few laughs.

Big Al smiled and said, “Do not worry, Jack. There are many women here for El Pero to choose from. I will get you a ride back to El Paso now.”

“Thanks, but now I feel a little thirsty,” replied Jack.

“Thirsty for another woman?” asked Big Al.

“No,” replied Jack, faking a chuckle. “I think I will have another beer. I have also thought of something I should talk to you about in private before I go. There is no hurry. Maybe meet me at the bar when you are done.”

Twenty minutes later, Big Al joined Jack and they moved to a quiet spot in the room.

“You have something to say to me?” asked Big Al, sounding sober again.

“Yes. You have treated me very well tonight. I know you are the guys to do business with and I am looking forward to many more trips down here to see you.”

“That is good, Jack,” smiled Big Al, slapping Jack on the shoulder.

“However,” continued Jack, “I still have to convince Damien. As I see it, providing your prices are good —”

“They will be,” assured Big Al. “My bosses will not risk losing Satans Wrath to anyone else. You and I will get to see much of each other.”

“Good, but that is not the problem,” said Jack.

“Problema? What problema?”

“All this seems like a fantastic dream. Your talk of taking two years to build a tunnel. Talk of the white house.”

“Casa Blanca?”

“Yes. It all seems too good to be true.”

“It is true,” replied Big Al, sounding indignant.

“Don’t get me wrong. I believe you, but I don’t know if Damien will. He has heard stories of gringos coming here to buy cocaine and being murdered and robbed of their money.”

“We do not plan to go to war with Satans Wrath.”

“No, like I said, I believe you … but I don’t know if Damien will. It might take a few months for me to convince him you are telling the truth and that your organization really can handle the quantities we want. I have met you and trust you … but convincing Damien we should simply believe what you have told me is another matter. It may take time and many more visits … that is all I’m saying.”

Big Al thought a moment before smiling. “What if you saw the tunnel with your own eyes?”

“If I saw the tunnel?” said Jack, while trying to appear thoughtful as he scratched his chin. “Wow … yeah, that would work. If it is as you say, it would easily prove your organization is who we should deal with. Of course, I would have to see Casa Blanca, as well, otherwise Damien might think you took me to a mine shaft.”

“When would you like to see it?” asked Big Al.

“As soon as possible. I guarantee once I see it, we will be going into business with you immediately.”

Big Al nodded and said, “For this, I need to speak to my boss.” He glanced at his watch and said, “It is two-thirty. I will check with his security. If he sleeping, I will call him in the morning. If not, maybe I can take you to Casa Blanca tonight.”

Jack waited while Big Al strode to the far end of the bar and made a call. When he returned, he was all smiles.

“Good news, amigo. Not only is my boss awake, but he was on his way home and is not far away. He will be here in about twenty minutes.”

“Great, I’d like to meet him,” replied Jack, wondering if either Guajardo himself would show up, or one of the Carrillo Fuentes brothers.

Big Al frowned and said, “I am sorry, but I was told to meet him outside. I do not think he is ready to meet you yet. Maybe after we are in business for a year or two he would agree to meet you. I hope this does not offend you or Señor Damien, but —”

“I understand,” replied Jack. “We are in a business where we must be careful. To me it shows your boss is not careless. That is good. We would not want to do business with someone who was careless.”

“Then you are not angry,” replied Big Al. “And Señor Damien will not be offended?”

“Of course not.”

Big Al and Jack talked idly for the next twenty minutes before a screeching of tires out front and a wave from a bodyguard told them the boss had arrived.

“Please, wait here,” instructed Big Al, as he hurried outside.

Jack casually strode to the front door and looked out through the glass. Parked in the middle of the street were a row of four black SUVs. Bodyguards had stepped out of some of the SUVs and were watching everyone and every vehicle. Big Al had gone around to the far side of an SUV that was the third one down the line.

Moments later, the bodyguards leaped back in their vehicles and all four SUVs roared off.

Big Al smiled as he returned to talk to Jack inside the brothel.

“Yes, I am allowed to take you,” said Big Al, “but not when it is dark.”

“Not when it is dark?”

“My boss is concerned about … well, that is his orders.”

“Tomorrow then?” asked Jack.

“Yes. At twelve o’clock my men will pick you up at your motel and bring you to Juarez. Then you are to be blindfolded for the trip to and from Casa Blanca.”

“I understand, but Damien will be expecting to talk to me as soon as I see it. How long will it take?”

“Oh … maybe an hour and twenty minutes each way, perhaps twenty minutes to show you Casa Blanca and then return. I think three hours will be enough. I am sorry we need to pick you up so early, but a delivery is being made later in the afternoon and I was told to have you away from Casa Blanca before then.” Big Al paused and said, “Again I must apologize. It is not me who does not trust you. It is my boss who is —”

“It’s okay,” replied Jack. “Somebody else’s coke does not interest me. I do need to arrange a time with Damien to be able to tell him I have seen it with my own eyes. As soon as that happens, we’ll be in business.”

“Good, amigo. I will have you back in El Paso by three, so you can make whatever arrangements you wish after that.”

After Jack left, Big Al could hardly contain his glee. He believed he had orchestrated what would surely be one of the largest business opportunities the cartel ever had. Jack had guaranteed him that all he needed to convince Damien was to see Casa Blanca. That would take place in a matter of hours.

Big Al smiled to himself at what a shrewd businessman he was. He had impressed Jack … and now that business was guaranteed, it was time to impress Señor Damien. What better way to impress him than to give him a photo of Jack and himself surrounded by topless young women … along with the gift of a diamond-and-gold-encrusted Rolex?

Big Al glanced at his own watch. The time difference in Vancouver was an hour earlier. If he hurried, perhaps his men in Vancouver could purchase the watch first thing in the morning and deliver it to Señor Damien by noon …

chapter thirty-three

It was four o’clock in the morning when Jack was dropped off at the Armadillo Motel by one of Big Al’s men. Jack showered, changed his clothes, and then drove into El Paso. After driving down a few darkened alleys to assure himself that he was not being followed, he went to the hotel room Adams had originally booked for him to write his notes.

Verbal evidence given to an undercover operative, particularly if it could be quoted word for word, was vital when it came to court. Jack had a lot of quotes he had been memorizing and was anxious to jot them down before his memory faded. First he knew he needed to call Adams.

It was five o’clock and still dark when he called Adams at home. The phone was answered on the first ring.

“You okay? How did it go?” asked Adams.

“I think Lily’s alive!” said Jack excitedly.

“You found her?” gasped Adams.

“Not yet, but I will. El Pero and one of Big Al’s bodyguards kidnapped her and took her some place to use as a sex slave. I don’t have time to talk now. I’m at the safe house and I’ve got a ton of notes to write. I want to meet your friend this morning and show him a picture. He said he would check the alley every morning between eight-thirty and nine.”

“No problem, I’ll take you. A picture of who?”

“A bunch of Big Al’s guys, including the one who was with El Pero when they kidnapped Lily. The guy is a cop. I also got an admission from the two men who murdered Earl Porter. Those two, along with El Pero, are meeting me at the The Old Warehouse tonight. Hopefully we’ll be able to arrest them. Before then, I hope to find where Lily is.”

“Fantastic! Man, this is great!”

“Give me until seven-thirty to write my notes, then pick me up and I’ll fill you in on the details. Also grab my laptop from your office and I’ll download some pictures to show your friend.”

Jack finished his notes shortly after seven and decided to go down to the hotel coffee shop for breakfast. He found Adams already there.

“I’ve already had two cups of coffee,” said Adams. “I was waiting until seven-thirty like you asked.”

“I could use about a quart myself,” replied Jack. “Also breakfast … is there time?”

“If you make it quick. Traffic coming this way on the bridge in the morning is heavy. Going in should be light. I’ve got your laptop in the car, so you can download the pictures as I drive.”

Jack ordered breakfast and filled Adams in on all the details as he ate. When he finished talking, Adams leaned back in his chair and said, “I gotta tell you something. I was really pissed off when I was first told I had to work with you.”

“I noticed.”

“Yeah … sorry about that. But you have done one hell of a great job. I wish you and I could be partners permanently.”

“Thanks. I feel the same way.”

“I’m not trying to get mushy or anything, but I would really feel bad if something happened to you.”

“Not as bad as I’d feel.”

“Good point,” chuckled Adams, “but what I am trying to say is we could use some more manpower. Maybe it’s time for you to phone your boss and get permission to go to Mexico. Then I could go to my office for help.”

“Forget that. If Ottawa did give permission, our policy states it would only be after Mexico gave their permission, along with approval from various police agencies.”

“Do that and you may as well phone Guajardo himself and tell him who you are.”

“Exactly.”

“But if I ask my bosses for help, they will contact your people about it and then refuse because you weren’t given permission.”

“Of course. That’s what bureaucracy is all about.”

“The thing is, as it stands now, if you do find her, you’ll be in shit for going into Mexico.”

“I’ve been in shit before.”

Adams brooded silently as he twirled a spoon around inside his already-stirred coffee. When he looked up he said, “Actually, I’m in deep shit myself right now.”

“Oh?”

Adams twirled the spoon again, then let out a deep sigh and said, “I’ll tell you about it another day. Let’s focus on what we’re doing.”

“I do need to do that. I haven’t been to bed since the night before last.”

“Runnin’ on adrenalin.”

“Mixed in with a little alcohol and caffeine. Hell of a combination, but as far as me being in shit goes, I’m willing to take my chances. One way of getting me off the hook would be if I find her … and we can pinpoint her location, how about you going to your bosses and saying a CI told you where she is? Leave me out of it. Ottawa wouldn’t need to know.”

“I could do that,” Adams agreed.

“And as far as arranging to arrest the guys at The Old Warehouse tonight, tell your bosses I went back to the Armadillo last night to see if Slater had shown up and ended up running into Big Al’s men. Say we had a few beer and El Pero told me he kidnapped Lily and Berto and Eduardo told me they did the hit on Porter in Canada. If they ask you where I was drinking with them say you presume it was in my room. If we’re lucky, by then we will have found Lily and make it look like your friend told you.”

“What will you say if it goes to court?”

“The truth. I will never lie on the stand … maybe refuse to answer to protect a source, but I will never lie. Court’s not a worry. Except for whether or not someone was convicted, my bosses never bother to find out the details. They’ll presume I stayed on this side of the border … unless someone from here tells them otherwise.”

“My bosses would never bother hanging around a courtroom either, although I don’t know if the D.A. handling the case would blab. It would depend upon who we got.”

“That’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“You don’t mind taking chances, do you?” replied Adams, looking thoughtful.

“The important thing is to rescue Lily.”

“Yeah … and keep you alive,” replied Adams sombrely.

At eight-thirty that morning Davidson was having a terse meeting with Weber in his office.

“So the fucking Mountie called him at five o’clock this morning?” repeated Weber. “I thought the son of a bitch said he was taking the night off to sleep.”

“He didn’t. Everyone thought he had gone to bed, but then the bug picked him up entering the room about five this morning. He called Adams shortly after to tell him the girl is still alive and is being held someplace as a sex slave.”

“And he got an admission from the two hitters who went to Canada,” noted Weber. “You gotta admit, the guy is good.”

“You’ve said the same thing before about Adams. We all could be if we broke the law or ignored policy.”

“That’s true.”

“Besides, I wouldn’t give them too much credit. Once the arrests take place tonight, there is no way any of the bad guys will talk. The Mountie did okay getting these guys to meet him tonight, but when you think about it, what he is really doing is signing the girl’s death warrant. For her sake, I hope it is quick,” said Davidson.

“Yeah … I agree with you there.”

“Another scenario I envision tonight is seeing them grabbing El Pero prior to the arrests and taking him for a ride out in the desert to make him tell them where the girl is. If Adams is true to form, he might kill him after and claim he escaped or something.”

“We could get them both on conspiracy to commit murder.”

“If we get there in time to rescue him. Otherwise it could be murder.”

“There’s always that,” replied Weber. “So what was Adams up to all night?”

“He did spend the night at home,” replied Davidson. “Then came in first thing this morning, grabbed the car, and split before anyone arrived.”

“So where are they?”

“Meeting one of Adams’s CIs,” replied Davidson. “They just got out of the car.”

“Did they talk in the car?”

“Nothing of interest.”

“What about what the Mountie did last night? He must have talked about that?”

“He left his room shortly after seven. Adams was out of his car at six-forty so I think they might have bumped into each other in the hotel lobby or coffee shop.”

“What if —”

“Not to worry. With whatever happened last night, it didn’t give them much time to talk about anything else. Besides, we would have heard something about it when they got back in the car.”

“It sounds like things are really coming down to the crunch,” said Weber.

“For sure. I spoke with the profilers this morning. They say once El Pero and the two hitters come into El Paso tonight and get arrested, it should do the trick. Adams and Taggart will feel a kinship with each other. Once the arrests are made, Adams knows Taggart will be heading back to Canada. They are confident Adams will spill his guts to him before he goes. Once that floodgate opens, it will make them more inclined to talk about other things they’ve done, as well.”

Jack and Adams stood in an alcove in the alley. It wasn’t long before Rubalcava arrived and Jack quickly filled him in on what had happened the previous night.

Rubalcava listened intently and his voice became grave when Jack mentioned the parade of four black SUVs that arrived when Big Al went to talk to his boss. “My friend,” he said, putting his hand on Jack’s shoulder, “this is very serious. It tells me who you are dealing with.”

“Guajardo himself?” asked Jack.

“No, his protection is even bigger. But what you have described fits the men who are directly below him. They are extremely dangerous and would kill their own mother for a peso. You must be very, very careful, amigo.”

Jack nodded solemnly.

“Now, you have some pictures to show me?” said Rubalcava.

Jack turned on the laptop and brought up the pictures. Jack expected a little good-natured ribbing when the pictures from inside the brothel were displayed, but there was none.

Rubalcava’s dark eyes flashed out from beneath his furrowed brow as he looked. “I know three of these men,” he said bitterly. “They are sworn to uphold the law, not break it. This piece of shit here,” he said, pointing at the screen with his finger, “is a detective who works out of my office. His name is Sanchez.”

“That is who drove Big Al last night from the restaurant to the brothel. He is also the one who went with El Pero when they grabbed Lily Rae.”

Rubalcava stared at Jack for a moment as his thoughts went back to the day Greg Patton had been kidnapped. “Lily Rae … do you know if she wore a necklace?”

“Yes. Apparently she wore a pendant that was —”

“A small frog,” said Rubalcava.

“Yes. How did —”

“Sanchez gave it to a secretary in my office the same morning Greg Patton was kidnapped.” Rubalcava spat on the ground and uttered a string of profanities in Spanish.

“My original plan was to have El Pero, Berto, and Eduardo arrested tonight in El Paso,” said Jack, “but only if we could rescue Lily first … if she’s still alive.”

“If you are blindfolded, it may be difficult to find out where she is,” said Adams.

“Big Al said it was outside of Juarez and they would have me back at the motel three hours later. Between driving through El Paso, clearing customs, and driving through Juarez … then the return trip, I figure it can’t be more than a thirty-minute drive outside of Juarez.”

“That covers a big area,” said Rubalcava. “The place will be heavily guarded. Other houses in the area will be owned by the cartel. For something as important as this, they won’t have guards who are asleep or drinking tequila under a tree. They will be professionals.” He glanced at Adams and said, “Perhaps even trained by your government.”

“I told Jack about the commandos we trained who were then bought out by the cartels,” said Adams ruefully.

Rubalcava looked at Jack and said, “So you realize how dangerous it will be. They will have a lot of security to ensure they are not being followed once you are picked up. With city traffic it would not take them long to spot us. Even if we succeeded, once they left the city … well, to follow you into a rural area would be a one-way trip. None of us would return.”

“Big Al was told not to take me there when it was dark,” noted Jack. “They don’t entirely trust me and are going to blindfold me … you’d think they would take me when it was dark. It would be even easier to see if someone was following.”

Adams looked at Jack and said, “You’re thinking of lights?”

“Exactly. Maybe an airport beacon or something. Perhaps a sign on a hotel roof in the distance. Something they don’t want me to see that could help pinpoint the location.”

Both Jack and Adams looked at Rubalcava. “I am sorry,” he said. “I can’t think of anything like that outside the … no, wait.” Rubalcava’s brow furrowed as he thought. “I just remembered. West of here is a radio tower that is only a few miles south of the border. The area has many hills, so perhaps the tower would be difficult to pick out against the background in the day, but at night is has a light on it to warn aircraft.”

“That gives us a direction,” said Jack.

“Possible direction,” corrected Adams.

“If we are able to locate Casa Blanca and Lily is still alive, how do we rescue her?” asked Jack, looking at Rubalcava. “Are there people you would trust to go in and do the job?”

“With what we are talking about, there is nobody I can really trust,” replied Rubalcava.

“If we arrest El Pero, Berto, and Eduardo tonight, maybe a trade could be negotiated?” suggested Jack.

Rubalcava sighed and said, “If we locate the tunnel, there will be no trade. For making such a mistake, the only reason the cartel would take them back would be to kill them.”

“Not such a bad thing,” said Jack, noticing a nod of agreement from Adams.

“There would also be no reason for the cartel to let Lily live,” noted Rubalcava. “In fact, her death may be long and painful out of revenge.”

“I take it they wouldn’t have to worry about being arrested if they did that,” said Jack bitterly.

“No. If political pressure was put on our government for her murder, then someone else would be framed and arrested for the crime. Perhaps someone who wasn’t even a criminal.”

“So what do we do?” asked Jack, aware that his feelings of optimism at what he thought he had accomplished had turned to frustration and despair. Peaks and valleys … always peaks and valleys …

“If we find the tunnel and you approach the Mexican authorities for help, there is a very real possibility someone involved in her rescue will have been bought off.”

“If we locate the tunnel, what about using it to conduct a raid from your side of the border?” asked Jack, looking at Adams.

“I was thinking the same thing myself,” replied Adams. “I think under the circumstances that might be the safest route to take.”

“That is a better idea,” said Rubalcava, “although I am sure the American end of the tunnel will be heavily guarded, as well. To get there in time to save her may be difficult, but it might still be the safer way to do it.”

“We have people trained for such matters,” replied Adams. “Although recon could take a day or two. It will have to be done properly so as not to alert the men at Casa Blanca before we reach it.”

Rubalcava smiled. “Of course you have men train-ed for these matters. The same ones who taught the commandos hired by the cartel. They might even know each other.”

“Don’t rub it in.” Adams scowled.

“So we won’t be doing any arrests at The Old Warehouse tonight,” noted Jack.

“Guess it depends on what you find out this afternoon,” said Adams. “There are thousands of bad guys — the important thing is to rescue the girl.”

“Definitely,” agreed Jack. “Besides, with luck I should be able to convince them to join me at The Old Warehouse a second time and make it coincide with when the raid does take place.”

Rubalcava glanced at his watch. “I should get to the office.” He looked at Adams and said, “Can you have your wife call me before lunch? Perhaps with the time needed, you should tell her that she wants to rendezvous with me for the whole afternoon.” Rubalcava grinned when he saw Jack give him a sideways glance and said, “It is not what it seems, I assure you.”

“Somehow, you two didn’t strike me as the type to be into wife-swapping,” replied Jack, giving a lopsided grin.

Rubalcava’s face became serious as he turned his attention back to Adams. “I will then join you and perhaps we can set up on the highway west of the city.” He looked at Jack and added, almost apologetically, “If we see Big Al’s SUV it may give us a general location of where you are going, but I know we will not be able to follow if he turns off the main highway. In that area there is a maze of dirt roads. There would be little traffic and the dust would announce the presence of any vehicle.”

“I understand,” replied Jack. “Big Al’s SUV is silver and El Pero’s is white. I suspect I will be riding with Big Al. If you do see us turn off, what with the time I have been given, I don’t think I should be gone much more than half an hour. If the roads are dusty, you may even have a general direction of where I am being taken.”

“Even if we do know where you’re at,” noted Adams, “I doubt we could ever get to you in time, even if we did know you were in trouble.”

“I’m aware of that,” replied Jack.

Adams and Rubalcava looked at each other and grimaced. The idea of standing by and not being able to save an officer in trouble would be a gut-wrenching experience.

chapter thirty-four

Despite the light rain in Vancouver, Jarvis was proud of the colours he had recently earned, making him a full member of Satans Wrath. He wanted everyone to see he was now sporting the full club logo on his back. As he pulled out of the compound of the west-side chapter clubhouse, his bare muscular arms, black with tattoos, gunned the engine of his Harley Davidson as he roared out on to the street.

Minutes later, a car with two men pulled alongside him and the passenger rolled down his window and gestured for him to pull over.

Jarvis pulled to the curb, but kept his bike running as the car double-parked beside him.

“Who the fuck are you two guys? Cops?” asked Jarvis.

“No,” said the passenger. “I’m Miguel and this is Ramiro. We need to talk to Señor Damien.”

“What are ya? Fuckin’ reporters? Talk to our media guy.”

“We’re not reporters. We have a very valuable gift for Señor Damien. It’s business. We need to meet him, but were warned the police could be watching your clubhouse.”

“If you’re in business with Damien, why don’t you call him yourself?” asked Jarvis as he looked around, wondering if the club was trying to test his response.

“We’ve never met him. We don’t have his number. We want you to call him.”

Jarvis hesitated about what to do. Although he had earned his full patch, he was not senior enough to ever be allowed to talk to the National President directly. “Tell ya what,” he replied. “I’ll take you to an alley where it is safe to talk. You wait there and I’ll go talk to someone.”

Lance Morgan, president of the west-side chapter of Satan’s Wrath, went to the clubhouse and listened to what Jarvis had to say. When Jarvis was finished talking, Lance called Damien and spoke briefly.

“Damien doesn’t know either of these guys,” said Lance when he hung up. “Maybe they’re trying to set him up for a hit. Take the boys over and check them out.”

Twenty minutes later, Miguel and Ramiro had guns shoved in their faces by six members of Satans Wrath. They were both jerked out of their car and slammed up against a garbage dumpster and roughly searched. Lance was watching from a distance and waited until Jarvis gave him a wave before walking up to them.

“No weapons,” said Jarvis. “They do have a new Rolex watch in their car though. It’s still in the box.”

“Are you Señor Damien?” asked Miguel meekly. “It is for you. A gift from Big Al. There is also a picture in a brown envelope.”

Jarvis retrieved the items from the car and handed the watch to Lance.

Lance nodded appreciatively as he examined the jewel-encrusted watch. Jarvis then handed him the picture.

“That is Big Al,” said Miguel helpfully, pointing to the picture. “Many beautiful ladies, yes? I think your man is having a good time.”

Lance’s jaw gaped open as he looked at the picture. “My man?” he spluttered.

“You do not know him?” asked Miguel, looking shocked.

“Fuckin’ rights I know him,” replied Lance hotly, before turning to Jarvis and saying, “Hold these two until I get back with Damien.”

In Juarez, Jack and Adams walked down the alley to return to their car.

“What are you going to do now?” asked Jack, with a final glance at Rubalcava, who was walking away in the opposite direction.

“After I drop you off at the hotel, I’ll go to the office and feed the bosses the scenario you told me,” replied Adams.

“I’m so groggy from lack of sleep, do you mind running it past me? What did I suggest?” asked Jack.

“Fuck, I always heard you Canadians were polite. What you’re really wanting to know is if I have it right … right?”

Jack grinned in response.

“Okay,” continued Adams. “I’ll tell the bosses you met some of the bad guys last night and give them the news about what you learned, except for the part of you being taken to Casa Blanca. I’ll tell them I’m contacting my CIs to ask about a possible location for Casa Blanca and also line up a potential arrest scenario for everyone to be in place at The Old Warehouse.”

“Which, by the sounds of it, we’ll have to postpone.”

“Yeah, but hopefully by then we’ll know where Casa Blanca is. How long we postpone it may depend on what you find out. If she’s already dead …”

“I know.” Jack sighed. “That would change everything. Will your people expect to cover me at the Armadillo? They might expect me to go there to see if Slater is around.”

“I’ll tell them it’s not needed. I’ll say if he is there, that you’re only swinging by to invite him to The Old Warehouse, as well.”

“Sounds like we have our ducks in a row.”

“Then I’ll split from the office and be waiting for you with my friend on the highway.”

“They pick me up at twelve and I should be back to the Armadillo by three. I figure we should be going by you around one.”

“Yeah,” said Adams glumly. “If we are on the right highway and if you are in the right vehicle so we can spot you.”

“Don’t worry if you don’t. If it isn’t near the radio tower, I’ll figure out some way to find the place again, even if I have to crawl up on the roof and mark it with a big X.”

“It was finding you I was thinking of … before you’re X’d. C-X’d that is.”

Jack normally would have smiled. C-X was a term used in target-practising to indicate the kill zone of the heart or lung vicinity. At the moment, Adams’s comment didn’t seem all that funny. He glanced at Adams and sombrely replied, “Like you said before, there is nothing you can do, regardless.”

They drove back across the Bridge of the Americas to Jack’s hotel in El Paso in utter silence. Both men were quietly wondering what the next few hours would bring. When Adams pulled up to the front of the hotel, he leaned over and shook Jack’s hand.

“Good luck,” Adams said.

“Thanks. See you for a beer later,” replied Jack as he got out.

Adams remained parked for a moment as he watched Jack walk away.

I wonder if I will ever see him alive again …

chapter thirty-five

It was eleven o’clock when Jack arrived back at the Armadillo Motel and saw Slater’s pickup truck parked in front of a unit. Seconds later, Slater let him into his room.

“When did you get in?” asked Jack, flopping down into a chair.

“About ten minutes ago. I’ve been on the road since four o’clock this morning.”

“You poor guy,” said Jack, somewhat sarcastically.

“Yeah, I’m pooped. I was about to call my contact and let him know I’m here. Have you met any of the guys yet?”

“Last night. They took me out on the town. I met the uncle.”

“Everything okay?” Slater asked.

“Couldn’t be better. You may as well hold off on contacting them. They’re picking me up within the hour to show me some of their operation.”

“Will I be coming with you?”

“Definitely not,” Jack intoned.

“Good, then depending on what they want me to do with the money, I might be able to get some sleep.”

Promptly at twelve o’clock, Berto and Eduardo arrived in El Pero’s white SUV. After a brief conversation, it was decided Jack would travel with Berto in the SUV and Eduardo would ride with Slater in his pickup truck to show him where to deliver the money.

“The place where we are taking Señor Slater is also where we are meeting Big Al and El Pero, explained Berto. “Señor Slater will stay there while the rest of us continue on. Once you have seen Casa Blanca, El Pero, Eduardo and me will take you back to El Paso. We can maybe have a few drinks, go out for dinner and then go to The Old Warehouse tonight.”

“Sounds great. Too bad Big Al couldn’t join us.”

“Yes, that is unfortunate. Now, I am sorry but I must —”

Jack turned away and leaned spread-eagled against the wall. Neither Berto or Eduardo had their shirts tucked in and by the telltale bulges, Jack knew they were both armed. Too bad they wouldn’t accommodate me, too …

Fifty minutes later, the four men pulled up to an auto body shop in Juarez. Berto parked out front while Slater was told to park inside the shop. Jack was then directed to Big Al’s silver SUV, which was parked farther down the street.

As Jack walked over, Big Al and El Pero got out to greet him. He and Big Al then sat in the back while El Pero got in the front. Sanchez stared at Jack from where he was sitting behind the wheel and Jack smiled at him. The smile was not returned.

Jack had not seen any telltale signs to indicate if Big Al or El Pero were armed, but there was no doubt in his mind Sanchez was.

Eduardo left Slater at the body shop and rejoined Berto, who then pulled up behind them in the white SUV. Jack felt slightly relieved. Not only were the vehicles known to Adams, but two SUVs travelling down a highway would be easy to spot. The windows were too tinted for anyone to see for sure which one he was in, but it didn’t matter as long as both SUVs stayed together.

“Now I must do this,” smiled Big Al apologetically as he held up a black cloth bag with a drawstring.

“It’s okay. I need some sleep, anyway. Nudge me if I snore.”

Big Al smiled as he placed the bag over Jack’s head and tied it shut.

Jack purposely avoided conversation as they drove. He tried to keep track of turns, stops, and any noises, but with the air conditioner running, along with the radio on and idle conversation, he quickly lost track. He also had the distinct feeling they had driven in circles a couple of times to make sure they weren’t being followed.

Adams and Rubalcava were sitting parked in Adams’s car at a gas station on the outskirts of Juarez when they saw the silver SUV drive past, followed by the white.

“Bingo.” Adams smiled and pulled out to follow them. It was a paved road, but traffic was light, with only about one or two vehicles every minute. Adams stayed far back and tried to keep two cars between him and the SUVs.

After driving for about ten minutes, Rubalcava said, “We are getting close.”

“How do you know?” asked Adams, concentrating on the vehicles in front of him.

“We passed an old farmhouse on the right. There were two tan coloured SUVs parked under a shed. A poor farmer could never afford vehicles that nice.”

Adams glanced in his rear-view mirror and nodded.

Half a mile further, the two SUVs slowed and turned right on to a dirt road.

“The road we are on basically faces west in the direction we are going,” said Rubalcava. “Where they turned, if they keep going north, they are only about four miles from the border.”

As they drove past, they saw that both SUVs had stopped to check in with someone parked in a crew-cab truck behind an empty fruit stand. Adams continued driving and watched in the rear-view mirror as the dust billowed up when the two cars continued north. Moments later, they disappeared from sight.

“Now what?” asked Adams, checking his watch. “From the times we were given, Jack should be on his way back out within thirty minutes.”

“Look, you can see the top of the tower from here,” said Rubalcava, pointing to the left. “It might be the closest vantage point we can find, unless these guys are also using it. The turnoff to it must be just up ahead.”

Adams glanced at the tower. “In this heat, a guy wouldn’t last long up there. My guess is anybody out here on security will be sticking close to the air conditioners. If someone is there, I’ll get out and make it look like I pulled off the highway to take a piss and then leave.”

A few minutes later, Adams parked beside the radio tower and was relieved to see no other vehicles present. At the base, scrub brush and a small cement building blocked their view of the main road from the sandy trail they had come in on. The facility itself was surrounded with a chain-link fence, topped with two strands of rusty barbed wire.

Adams parked the car beside the fence and went to the trunk and retrieved an old set of gloves, which he intended more for climbing the tower than getting over the fence. Touching metal exposed to the hot sun would be like putting your hand on a stove element.

Adams then hung a set of binoculars around his neck and used the hood of the car to help him climb over the fence. There was a ladder on the tower, but it faced the road and he was afraid to use it in case he was spotted. Instead, he climbed up the back of the tower where natural rungs in the girders accommodated his hands and feet. The mass of girders also gave him some cover. A couple of minutes later he climbed high enough to get a view.

“See anything?” asked Rubalcava from the where he stood beside the car.

Adams adjusted his binoculars and said, “I got an eyeball on the fruit stand that the truck is parked behind. Also the farmhouse we passed with the two tan coloured SUVs. The dust trail made by the two SUVs we were following disappears over a couple of hills in the distance. I should see them coming when they return to the main road.”

“I think we are in the best spot to watch then.”

“Jack is going to owe me a cold beer for this,” muttered Adams. Although he was fairly well-concealed, he was still cognizant of the truck behind the fruit stand. He knew the power of a sniper’s scope and tried to remain motionless as he clung to the tower, sweat trickling into his eyes, down his armpits, and soaking into his shirt.

He remained on his perch for fifteen minutes when he heard the sound of gunfire coming from the direction of where he was looking. His muscles automatically tensed, ready to spring into action and his mouth gaped open as he strained to listen. Two shots …

“You hear something?” asked Rubalcava.

“Gunshots!” replied Adams. The sound of two more shots was heard, then a flicker of movement caught his eye and he adjusted his binoculars. “There’s another tan-coloured SUV hidden amongst some bushes on top of a sand dune about a half-mile northwest of the fruit stand,” he said quickly. “I hadn’t spotted it until now. Two guys are getting out of it … one guy with binoculars … and the other guy just laid a sniper rifle laid over the hood,” he yelled excitedly.

“I don’t understand! Is it the sniper that is shooting?”

“Not yet! I think the sniper is sighting in on where the gunshots came from,” yelled Adams.

A fifth shot was heard in the distance, followed almost immediately by a louder explosive clap from the sniper’s rifle. Adams watched in horror as the man with the rifle received a high-five slap of congratulations from the second man.

chapter thirty-six

“We have arrived,” said Big Al, as Sanchez came to a stop. Big Al took the bag off Jack’s head and he rubbed his eyes.

“Welcome to Casa Blanca,” added El Pero.

All four men stepped out of the SUV and Jack glanced around. He was standing under an open shed where the SUV had parked. Berto and Eduardo were parked beside them. Jack saw a modest ranch-style home in front of him partially shaded by a large tree in the front yard.

Lily Rae … are you in there?

As they walked toward the house, Jack discreetly took in as many visual details as he could. The home was built in a hollow, making it difficult to see far, but there were no other buildings within sight. He tried to memorize the layout of the land while trying to imagine what it would look like if he flew over it in a plane.

Near to the house, a plot of land was being used in a crude attempt to grow corn, but the stalks were few and the ones that had managed to grow were parched and only knee-high.

Big Al saw what he was looking at and laughed. “That used to be a gully,” he explained. “We used it to get rid of the dirt from the tunnel. From the air it will look like a garden. Good idea, yes?”

“Yes, replied Jack, wondering what else had been disposed of in the ravine.

They entered the house and were greeted by two men standing in the kitchen. Both had close-cropped hair, M-16A2 automatic rifles slung over their shoulders and each wore drab green military singlet T-shirts, sand-coloured camouflage pants, and army boots. Their skin was a darker brown than the others, leaving Jack to speculate they spent considerable time outside the house, as well.

They each gave a respectful hello in Spanish to Big Al, who nodded curtly in reply. The two men then smiled and gave a friendly nod to Berto and Eduardo. There was no doubt they had all been soldiers, or perhaps the two with the M-16A2s still were, thought Jack, as he recalled Adams comments that sometimes soldiers were used to protect large drug shipments.

Big Al interrupted his thoughts. “You are standing beside the entrance to the tunnel,” he said, smiling.

“Can you find it, Jack?” challenged El Pero.

“The entrance is in the kitchen?” replied Jack, looking around. The floor was made from yellow ceramic square pieces of tile. The grouting was a light brown and Jack looked to see if there was an area where the grouting was missing. It all looked in order.

The kitchen table, cluttered with empty beer bottles and a deck of cards was light-weight and easy to see underneath. The countertops were also cluttered with empty beer bottles, a few dishes, and men’s magazines. Nothing seemed particularly out of place.

Jack glanced at the fridge and stove, then looked at Big Al and raised his eyebrows.

“It is not under the fridge or the stove,” replied Big Al smugly.

“Is it okay if I search the rest of the house?” asked Jack, desperately wondering if Lily Rae was nearby.

“No, the entrance is in this room,” said Big Al.

“Then I give up.”

Big Al smiled and went over to a counter. On the wall behind it was an eye-hook from which a key-rack hung. He turned the hook sideways and Jack heard a small click. As this happened, Big Al grabbed the end of the counter and swung it away from the wall. One section of the counter was on hinges, attached to another section of the counter. Big Al then let go of the spring-loaded switch and the hook returned to its upright position.

Jack stepped forward and looked at the shaft that led into the ground from where the counter had hidden it. A ladder on the side of the shaft descended out of sight.

Big Al leaned in the hole and flicked a light switch. “Go ahead, climb down. Berto will show you.”

Jack climbed down the ladder after Berto. The ladder descended about one storey underground. When he reached the bottom, he came to a tunnel about twice the width of his shoulders. Periodic overhead lighting stretched for as far as he could see, given the darkened conditions.

“Wow! This is really something,” said Jack.

“And much cooler down here away from the sun,” replied Berto.

“Speaking of cooler,” said Jack, fishing to see if he would learn any further security details, “the two men upstairs with the automatic rifles are fairly dark. They must spend a lot of time outside in the sun, as well.”

“No, no,” replied Berto. “They are darker because they are not Mexican. They are mercenaries who have come here from South America. There are other teams who supply perimeter security. The house is never left empty.”

“I see. You and Eduardo seemed like friends when you greeted them, so I thought perhaps you were in the military together.”

“We have had similar training, which is what makes us friends,” replied Berto.

“It looks amazing,” said Jack, gesturing with his hand down the tunnel. “I have seen enough to know you are capable of moving a lot of dope.”

“You can walk along it if you like.”

“That’s okay,” replied Jack. “I should be getting back.”

“We have a special cart we use for moving big loads,” said Berto, as they were climbing back up the ladder. “But I think we need two carts. With one, it always seems to be at the wrong side.”

“Then you would have two at the wrong side,” replied Jack.

“You’re probably right,” chuckled Berto.

“So what do you think?” Big Al smiled when Jack reappeared into the kitchen.

“It’s fantastic. What about the other end? Is it well-protected?”

“Yes, much like here,” replied Big Al.

“Absolutely incredible. Your organization is exactly who we want to do business with.”

“That is great, amigo. I will have my men drive you back to your motel now. Señor Damien will be pleased, yes?”

“Yes, but first, is there a bathroom I can use?”

“Around the corner and down at the end of the hall,” gestured Big Al with his thumb.

Jack headed down the hallway. The first room held a laundry tub, under which was a thick lead pipe fastened close to the wall and used as a drain. A pail and bottles of cleaning fluid were in the corner, along with a dirty mop that had bloodstains on it.

Jack grimaced and continued on. The next room was a bedroom and the door was open. He glanced in and saw two mattresses on the floor and a cheap dresser.

The next room down the hall was padlocked shut.

Bingo … Jack nervously looked back to make sure nobody was watching and then held his breath and put his ear to the door and listened. He did not hear anything. Come on Lily … please be alive … We’ll get you out of here …

The sound of movement in the kitchen caught his attention so he quickly continued down to the washroom. He waited a moment, flushed the toilet and returned to the kitchen.

“I see you’ve got a bedroom door padlocked shut,” said Jack. “What’s in there?”

“Oh … that’s the men’s entertainment room,” said Big Al.

“Entertainment?” asked Jack.

“They get bored, so they keep women in there.”

“With the padlock, I take it they are not putas,” said Jack, smiling.

“No, we would not risk such a person knowing about Casa Blanca,” replied Big Al. “The women in there don’t come back. Whores make money. To kill them would not be good for business and would make some of our colleagues angry.”

“A bedroom does not seem very secure,” noted Jack. “Have you ever had anyone escape?”

“No. A woman cannot get out of there,” said El Pero. “At least not alive.”

“Would you mind if I see for myself?” asked Jack.

Big Al shrugged and said, “Why not.”

“I’ll show you,” offered El Pero, removing a key from the rack over the counter.

Jack, Big Al, and Eduardo followed El Pero down the hall. Jack watched in anticipation as El Pero fumbled with the padlock and opened the door.

Jack took a deep breath and stepped inside the room. He looked at the naked young woman who was curled up with her back to them on a bare mattress on the floor. Her long red hair told him he had found Lily Rae.

The mattress was so stained and dirty that the original colour was unknown. Jack didn’t know if he wanted to cry out in anguish at her suffering or feel elation because he had found her. He tried to look disinterested in Lily as he looked around the room.

The room was empty of any other furniture and stunk of urine and feces. A plate of beans and rice was beside the mattress, but the beans had gone mouldy. Beside the plate was a plastic bottle full of water.

The only window in the room was covered with a thick sheet of plywood fastened to the wall with a multitude of screws.

Big Al spoke in Spanish to El Pero as Jack walked over to the closet. It was evident Big Al had not realized Lily was there and was still alive.

Jack slid one of two bi-fold closet doors open to reveal a plastic pail that explained the odour. The pail was the toilet. He pushed the door shut and tried not to let his rage show.

Lily had not moved and remained with her back to everyone. He stared at her to see if he could tell if she was breathing. Bruises covered her back and legs, but they were turning yellow and were obviously not fresh. Whatever fight she once had in her was gone.

“I am sorry, Jack,” said Big Al. “This is the girlfriend of the hombre who robbed us. I did not know she was still alive. I will have my men deal with her at once so you can assure Señor Damien that there are no … what you say … loose ends.”

“There’s no need to kill her,” replied Jack. “I can see there is no escape.”

At the sound of Jack’s voice, Lily turned her head to face the men. Her eyes fixed on Jack and he could see the new hope flash across her face at the sight of seeing a gringo. She half-rose from the bed and extended her hand toward him. “Please,” her mouth tried to say, but her throat was dry and only her lips mouthed the word. She swallowed several times and finally croaked out an audible plea. “Help me. You are English. Please …”

Jack’s face hardened at the role he knew he must play. He grabbed her face with his hand and shoved her backwards onto the mattress. “Fuck off, bitch!”

Jack then turned to Big Al and said, “I have to admit, she is very pretty. It would be a shame to rob your men of their entertainment … and I know Damien would feel bad about doing so simply to appease him. The important thing is I know she will never leave here alive.”

Jack glanced down at Lily. She lay on her back with her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling like she was in a trance. Her final bit of hope was gone. Her body relaxed and a calm settled over her emotions as her brain accepted she was going to die and there was nothing she could do to save herself. Perhaps, thought Jack, at this point she even welcomes death.

“She most certainly won’t leave here alive. Still, I am sure you would feel better if you knew she was dead,” he added, with a nod toward Berto, who reached for his pistol.

“Please, not now,” said Jack. “There really is no rush and Damien would be upset if he knew I was implicated in a murder. As a favour, I would appreciate it if you made sure I was away from here for at least a day or two. That way it could never be said I was somehow involved or responsible.”

“You never would be held accountable,” Big Al assured him.

“I know, but as I said, Damien has not met you and may not understand. He would be angry with me. He expects this first meeting to go without incident.”

“As you wish,” replied Big Al. He spoke in Spanish to Berto and told him to take care of her later. Berto replied that one of the men had told him she had not eaten or drank any water for several days. He expected her to die soon regardless.

Big Al shrugged in response.

Berto’s comment caused Jack to worry. Going without food isn’t a problem. Going without water in this heat will kill you in a matter of days. What if the operational plan to save her gets delayed for a day or two? Reconnaissance could take that long … will she still be alive then?

Jack knew to say something to give her the will to live could have disastrous consequence. It could be like trying to save a drowning person who panics and takes you with them.

As the men were walking out of the room, Jack decided to follow what his heart told him to do.

“Just a sec,” he said, giving an evil grin. “I’ve never tasted a redhead and there’s something I’ve always wondered.” With that comment, he returned to Lily and in full view of the men, slowly licked his lips, bent over, and made a show of nibbling on her ear and pretending to stick his tongue in as he shifted his body to block their view.

“Do not speak,” he whispered in her ear. “Things are not what they seem. I promised your friend that I would bring her little froggy home. Hang in there. Help is on the way.”

Lily did not move as Jack stood up. She stared at him silently as her brain, fuzzy from dehydration, tried to digest if what she heard was real or if she had dreamed it.

Jack smiled as he walked toward the men watching him from the doorway and said, “It is true. Redheads do taste spicier.”

The men laughed and El Pero slapped Jack on the back and said, “If you think redheads are spicy, amigo, you should taste a señorita,” a giggle shook his chubby belly and he wiped a tear from his eyes with the back of his hand before continuing, “with a habanera chile inside her. But be careful your own chile grande does not touch it!”

Jack forced a laugh to join the others and then smiled at El Pero and patted him on the shoulder. He hoped his smile hid his true thoughts.

I am going to kill you … I don’t know how … but I will …

Jack did not risk glancing back at Lily as El Pero closed the door. He was too afraid she might say something.

Lily stared at the door and heard the padlock click shut. A promise to bring little froggy home? Only Marcie calls me froggy …

Then it hit her and her body trembled as fear and hope washed over her at the same time.

That was the Uncle Jack that Marcie told me about!

She crawled over to the door and sat, wrapping her arms around her knees and trying to stifle her sobs as she listened, hoping to hear more of Jack’s voice. When it sounded like he had left, she crawled back to the bottle of water and drank.

chapter thirty-seven

When Jack and the men returned to the kitchen, El Pero was about to hang the key back on the rack, but before he could, something outside the window caught his eye. He swore in Spanish and ran outside.

“He saw the iguana again,” explained Big Al, shaking his head while pointing out the window to a big lizard clinging to the trunk of the tree. “It has become a matter of pride for him. Any of the other men here could easily kill it in a single shot … even if they were drunk. Unfortunately, El Pero has not had their training. He thinks the iguana knows this and is laughing at him.”

Jack watched as El Pero ran to his SUV and retrieved an H&R .32-calibre, six-shot, long-barrelled revolver from the glove box.

“He has replaced his pistol with a new gun,” observed Big Al. “Before his gun had a shorter barrel. Maybe now his aim will be better.”

El Pero rested the barrel on one arm and aimed, before firing two shots at the iguana. Neither shot came close enough for the iguana to even flinch.

“No, he is still a terrible shot,” muttered Big Al.

“Is there a danger someone might hear the shots?” asked Jack, concerned Adams or Rubalcava would hear the shots and come barraging in to try and rescue him.

“No,” replied Big Al. “The men often target-practise out here. The only people who could hear are security men.”

“I haven’t even seen any security,” said Jack, “other than these two,” he said, with a nod toward the two mercenaries.

“Oh, there at many others out there,” Big Al assured him. “And much better shots than El Pero,” he added, “who will be lucky if he does not shoot himself in his foot.”

As if to emphasize the point, El Pero fired two more shots and the iguana safely crawled higher into the tree, more perhaps, to escape El Pero’s string of profanity than from the bullets.

“This has gone on long enough,” said Big Al, sounding frustrated. “I will demonstrate to you that we do have security. Step outside and you will see something.”

With that comment, Big Al made a brief telephone call while Jack went outside and watched as El Pero fired another errant shot up into the tree.

The iguana was barely visible, as it had sought refuge amongst some leafy branches. A second later, the sound of a single rifle retort from off in the distance was followed by the iguana tumbling to the ground with the top of its head missing.

Jack looked from where the shot came and could barely make out two figures near an SUV on a far hill. He turned back toward the house and saw Big Al standing on the porch smiling at him.

“Your example of security has been well illustrated,” said Jack, respectfully. “You have a hell of a good sharpshooter out there.”

“There are many such men out there,” replied Big Al, with a wave of his hands toward the surrounding hills. “Now, unfortunately we must go,” he added. “There is a delivery being made soon and some more men will be arriving to look after it. I was told you must not be here then.”

“I understand. Besides, I do not want to be late to call Damien.”

“Okay, we — excuse me.” Big Al stopped to answer his cellphone. When he did, he smiled at Jack and held up two fingers. “Wait here, I will be right back,” he said, before stepping back inside the house to continue his call.

There was something about Big Al’s smile Jack didn’t feel comfortable about. Were Adams and Rubalcava in the area? Did they hear the gunfire and think I need help?

Jack walked over and pretended to look at the dead iguana. In reality he was considering grabbing the revolver from El Pero if Adams responded to the gunfire. As he kicked the iguana carcass with his foot, he glanced around. The lone SUV parked on the far hill remained where it was. There did not appear to be any reason for alarm. Good, considering El Pero only has one bullet left in his revolver …

Jack glanced at El Pero, who cursed some more and shook his fist in the direction of the sharpshooter. When El Pero turned to face him, Jack shook his head in apparent sympathy while looking at the hills around them. Good, no sign of any rescue attempt …

Jack turned back toward the house as the sound of footsteps clumped across the porch. It was Big Al, Sanchez, Berto, Eduardo, and the two mercenaries … who were both aiming their M-16A2 automatic rifles at him.

Jack stared silently at Big Al who walked up to face him. “I have some news that concerns you,” said Big Al, practically spitting the words out.

“Concerns me?” said Jack innocently. He knew he couldn’t successfully disarm these men and it was up to his wits and his tongue to get him out of the situation.

“Yes,” replied Big Al. “My men in Canada have spoken with Señor Damien.”

Oh, fuck … I’m dead …

“Señor Damien says you are a very dangerous man, Corporal Jack Taggart,” continued Big Al. “He says we should kill you immediately.”

Jack was only partially aware that one of the mercenaries had moved in behind him. He did see Big Al look past him toward the mercenary and give a slight nod of permission.

Jack started to turn around as the mercenary raised his weapon, but he was much too late.

Big Al stepped back as a spray of blood splattered his shirt as Jack’s bloody body collapsed to the ground.

chapter thirty-eight

Adams half-slid and half-climbed down the tower, cursing openly at Jack and the risks he took.

“What happened?” Rubalcava yelled up to him. “What did you see?”

“They got ’im,” replied Adams tears of rage filling his eyes while he continued to climb down. “A fucking sniper took him out!”

“Are you sure? Did you see —”

“That fucking asshole,” cried Adams. “I told him he was taking a big risk. Did the fucking hillbilly cop listen to me? Fuck no! Now I gotta go in there and probably get fucking killed, too.”

“Did you see Jack fall? Are you sure he’s dead?”

“I didn’t see Jack, but I saw the fucking snipers congratulating each other,” replied Adams, gesturing toward where the tan SUV was parked. He expected the SUV would be driving to the kill scene, but it was still parked. He stared at it, then used his binoculars again.

“What is it?” asked Rubalcava.

“They haven’t moved,” replied Adams. “The snipers in the SUV are still parked in the same spot.”

“If they had killed Jack, wouldn’t they be driving over to look?”

“You would think so … unless they are waiting to see who else shows up.”

“Or fired their weapons as a test to see if someone would respond.”

“Maybe.”

“Or perhaps were only target-practising at a tin can or something.”

“Christ,” muttered Adams. “I better climb back up and wait.”

Inside the laundry room at Casa Blanca, Big Al looked down at Jack’s naked body where he lay sprawled on his back with his head caked in blood and sand. Big Al then spit on him, before nudging him in the stomach with his foot.

“Wake up, you piece of shit!” yelled Big Al.

Jack emitted a low moan and pink bubbles of froth foamed from his mouth.

Jack heard Big Al’s words as though they were spoken down a long tube. He opened his eyes and saw blurred images of men standing over him. What happened? I was looking at the iguana … what happened?

Typical of concussions, Jack was suffering from retrograde amnesia and had momentarily lost his memory from the time he had walked over to look at the dead iguana.

“Good, you are still alive,” said Big Al, leering down at him. “Although you will discover that being alive will be most unfortunate for you,” he added, kicking Jack hard in the stomach.

Jack tried to roll away, but discovered his hands were handcuffed together with one cuff having been slipped behind the lead pipe below the sink in the laundry room. His vision was clouded and what he did see appeared in multiple images. Pain wracked his skull and nausea took over. What the hell happened?

The rifle butt he had received to his head had done more than split open his scalp. He had also bitten his tongue. He tried to spit the blood out of his mouth, but only succeeded in having it run down his chin.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked, slurring his words like he was drunk. “Why do you have me like this?”

“Why are we doing this?” roared Big Al. “Why the fuck do you think we dragged you in here?”

I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure it’s not to enjoy myself …

An image came closer to him and he tried to focus. It was El Pero holding an electric cattle prod. The reason Jack was naked was about to be made painfully clear. He automatically tried to move back, but any movement he had was limited to the short distance his hands could move along the straight piece of pipe between the base of the sink and a wide strip of metal holding the pipe in place halfway up from the floor.

Upon contact with the cattle prod, Jack lurched up and backwards on the heels of his feet, hitting his head on the bottom of the sink. His scrotum felt like it had been whacked with a club barbed with needles. He gagged a couple of times before vomiting and slipping back into unconsciousness.

Moments later, he was awakened to the taste of bleach being poured on his face. The closet sized room was like an oven in the heat and one of Big Al’s men used the bleach to dilute the gagging smell of the vomit.

Big Al leaned forward and said, “I think Señor Damien must be a pussy cat. You do not look very dangerous to me.” He gave a hearty laugh and looked at his men who respectfully laughed in response.

Damien … Jack’s memory of the event leading up to being clubbed with a rifle butt came back to him. Never did like that guy …

“Now … I have some good news for you,” continued Big Al. “Unfortunately, I also have some bad news. The good news is I am going to go bring a doctor back to look after you.” He paused and stared at Jack for a response.

Jack blinked his eyes, trying to bring the room into focus as he looked up at the ceiling. His thoughts were becoming less muddled, despite fighting waves of nausea.

“The bad news,” continued Big Al, “is that the doctor will only be used to keep you alive and awake while you are tortured.”

“Small minds do petty and inhumane things,” sputtered Jack as a fresh supply of blood trickled down his face from hitting his head on the sink.

“The torture is not without purpose,” replied Big Al. “Besides finding out what you know, it will also be a warning to others who try to interfere with our livelihood.”

“It will only make other police officers more angry and vengeful,” replied Jack. “They will come for you.”

“Yes … we have learned that men are often willing to take risks and even sacrifice themselves for a cause. Perhaps you are like one of these men. A man who will endure a lot of pain … before telling us what we wish to know. But you will tell us … that I can assure you. Everyone does.”

“I will save you the trouble. It is hardly a secret why I am here. I’m a cop from Canada looking for a missing Canadian girl. I fooled Slater into thinking I was a gangster. I received permission to go to El Paso to conduct inquiries because that was where she was last known to be. I did not have permission to enter Mexico, but thought I could sneak across the border for a couple of hours in the hope of figuring out where this place is. Then I was going to go back to the Americans and ask for their help to rescue the girl.”

“I figured you came here without permission,” replied Big Al. “Otherwise I would have been notified.”

“That is why I came alone,” replied Jack.

“Where is your partner?”

“My partner is on holidays, so I have been working alone. That is why Slater has never met anyone else but me.”

“Perhaps you did come alone … or perhaps you didn’t. We took precautions to make sure we were not being followed, but even if someone did slip through our net, you should know that my men have arranged a welcoming committee. If anyone comes close to Casa Blanca, they will either be killed or join you in this room. So do not hold out any hope of rescue.”

“I have no hope of rescue because nobody knows I am here. So now that I have told you everything,” said Jack bitterly, “kill me and get it over with.”

“Everything? I think not. We have many questions to ask you. Perhaps Señor Damien will also have questions he would like asked. Now that you have introduced us, the possibility does exist that we will go into business with him. I should thank you for that!”

Jack felt too sickened to reply.

“As a matter of fact, I am sure Señor Damien will find this interesting,” said Big Al, taking out his cellphone to take a picture. “Say cheese.”

Jack momentarily wondered if he shouldn’t say something glib, or perhaps flip his middle finger up for the picture … but instead he hung his head. I’m not some tough guy in a movie … I’m just me … and I’m so scared I feel numb.

“We need more information than the reason you came here, if we are to convince others from becoming martyrs.”

“Something more?” asked Jack.

“Some men are willing to die for what they believe in … but are they also willing to sacrifice their families? Mother and father, brothers and sisters … perhaps a wife and children?”

Jack tried unsuccessfully to hide the sheer terror he felt.

“Ah, I see that last comment got a reaction.”

“I will not tell you a thing,” replied Jack, adamantly, as he resolved to replace his fear with determination.

“Yes, yes. I know what you think. Many have made the same promise. I have not had one man yet who kept it. I will tell you how it will work. First we will start off slow. Perhaps it will take seconds, perhaps minutes … perhaps hours … but the pain will cause you to talk about people you think we already know about, or could easily find out about. Organizational structures. People you work with. You will eventually start to talk.”

“What makes you think I will tell the truth?”

Big Al smiled as though talking down to a child. “My men in Canada will easily verify what you tell us. Lies will be punished by more people being killed. Once you do start to talk, it will become easier for you. Next you will give us the names of the family members of the people you work with. Soon, other names and addresses will cross your lips. Your wife’s name … your children. You know,” added Big Al, looking reflective, “I think that is when you truly become dead inside.”

“I am not married and do not have children,” replied Jack. “You will be wasting your time. Names of my colleagues can be found out easily by calling the office.”

“When you are dead, we will dump your body in the trunk of a car and park it on the Bridge of the Americas. We will let the Americans deliver you to Canada. I am certain there will be much publicity. If you do have a wife and family, I am sure there will be a big funeral they will attend. My men will be there, as well.” Big Al’s tone turned to admonishment when he added, “Did you not hear me when I said more people will die if you lie to me?”

Jack looked around the room. Depression seeped through his brain like it was acid and for the first time, genuine thoughts of how he could commit suicide crossed his mind. His brain began to swim in a fog of nausea and he willed himself to wake up from what he hoped was a nightmare.

“Nothing to say, Corporal Taggart?” asked Big Al. “Don’t worry, I am sure you will have lots to say when I return with a doctor. Then, as you say, it will be time to let the games begin.

Jack’s only response was to retch again before slipping into the abyss of unconsciousness.

chapter thirty-nine

Before leaving Casa Blanca, Big Al gave explicit orders to the other men in the house. The cocaine delivery was expected soon and he told Berto to call the men who usually unloaded the drugs and tell them there was a delay and not to come.

He made it clear he did not want anyone else to know that they had captured a Canadian policeman until they were completely finished with him. He was not risking any chance of a rescue and told them to unload the truck and stash the cocaine in the tunnel themselves.

El Pero quickly suggested that Jack should be guarded continuously and volunteered for the job. Big Al agreed.

Sanchez rolled his eyes at the other men. He knew El Pero was using Jack as an excuse to get out of the physical labour involving the drug delivery. Being Big Al’s favourite nephew has its privileges …

From his perch on the tower, Adams saw a coordinated flurry of activity. “Something is going on,” he yelled down to Rubalcava. “The two tan-coloured SUVs from the farmhouse joined the crew-cab pickup at the fruit stand. In total I count six … no, eight, guys getting out and having a confab with each other. The SUV with the snipers has also moved closer and is perched on another hill facing the fruit stand.”

“What do you make of it?” asked Rubalcava.

“I don’t know … hang on, some of the guys at the fruit stand are getting back in their vehicles again.”

“Maybe a shift change or something?”

“Yeah, maybe that’s — fuck that! They’re setting up a textbook military ambush for a crossfire situation!”

“I’m a policeman, not a soldier. What are they doing?”

“Son of a bitch, Jack!” cried Adams aloud. “Why the hell did I ever let you go in there?”

“Tell me what you see!”

“I’ll tell you what I see,” said Adams glumly. “I see professionals preparing to take someone out. They’ve driven the crew-cab truck a short distance down from the fruit stand and parked it sideways over a hill to block the road. They’ve also hidden guys with weapons on each side of the road leading up to the truck. If anyone comes along, the guys in the ditch open up on both sides, as well as from behind. If the person manages to survive and steps on the gas, they’ll be finished off when they reach the truck, where they’ll also be shot at from the front.”

“Is the ambush designed for someone heading south to the main road?”

“No … I wish it was. It would give me hope Jack is still alive. The ambush is for someone who would be heading north off the main road.”

“You think Jack —”

“Yeah, I think he was burned. Now they’re setting up an ambush in case someone tries to find him.”

“Those shots we heard …”

“I know,” replied Adams. “I don’t think they were shooting at tin cans. At this point I’m thinking he’s dead. Christ, we don’t even know what’s over those hills. Could be several houses.”

“I know these back roads a little. Maybe there is another spot we could use to try and confirm where Casa Blanca really is.”

Adams agreed and descended the tower. They both drove in silence until they returned to the main highway.

“Which way,” asked Adams harshly, angry with himself that he hadn’t somehow stopped Jack.

“Go west away from the fruit stand. I think farther down there is another road that goes north toward the border.”

“I’m sure they’ll have it guarded, as well.”

“Perhaps, but maybe we will find another hill in the vicinity to give us a different view.”

Adams was pulling out onto the highway when he slammed on the brakes. Off in the distance, a telltale cloud of dust told of a vehicle racing toward the area of the fruit stand.

“That looks like it is coming from the same road they took Jack down,” said Adams. “I’m going to drive past and take a look.”

Adams drove slowly and was rewarded when they passed the fruit stand and saw Big Al’s SUV approaching the highway.

“Maybe he is still alive,” said Adams, excitedly. “Big Al might be returning him. What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” replied Rubalcava. “Perhaps everything is okay. Maybe the ambush is only a precaution because they brought Jack to Casa Blanca.”

“You would have thought they would have had it set up to begin with,” noted Adams.

“Perhaps it was an afterthought.”

“Jack mentioned a delivery was to be made this afternoon. Maybe they do it to make sure nobody is following whoever does the delivery. It might have nothing to do with Jack.”

“Possible. That makes more sense. Let’s hope you’re right.”

“I’ll drive slow. If Jack is in Big Al’s SUV, they should be passing us on the way back to Juarez any minute.”

A short time later, both Adams and Rubalcava breathed a partial sigh of relief as Big Al’s silver SUV went racing past them.

Damien and Lance Morgan sat beside each other at a picnic bench in Vancouver’s Kitsilano Beach Park overlooking English Bay. Across from them sat Miguel and Ramiro, who had requested they meet again in the afternoon after their first initial encounter that morning.

Both Miguel and Ramiro were each sipping on a bottle of cola, after assuring Damien they would be receiving an important message any minute in regard to Jack Taggart.

That there were numerous members of Satans Wrath in the area providing security did little to impress Miguel and Ramiro. Where they came from, such security was common to protect the top drug lords. What they did find amusing were the counter-surveillance teams put in place to ensure they were not being followed by the police. In Mexico, they used the police as their own bodyguards.

Damien, along with other members of Satans Wrath, were frequently watched and photographed by the police. For Damien it did not particularly bother him much, but with the advice he had given to murder Jack Taggart, he did not want to risk that his potentially new business partners might say something that could be picked up by the police through parabolic microphones or any other listening devices.

Damien was also curious as to whether the police knew about Miguel and Ramiro. The fact they were not being followed did not necessarily indicate the police didn’t know them. He had correctly theorized the police might not be conducting surveillance for fear of jeopardizing Taggart’s undercover role. If the police surveillance was discovered by Miguel and Ramiro, the timing of the sudden police interest with the arrival of Taggart into their midst would be too coincidental.

Miguel excused himself to look at a message he received on his BlackBerry. When he did, he smiled and held the device out for Damien and Lance to see a picture.

“I have been told to ask you if you think this man is still dangerous,” said Miguel.

Damien and Lance looked at Jack’s naked body lying on a floor and scrutinized his face.

“Is it him?” asked Lance. “With all that blood and shit, it’s —”

“It’s Taggart,” said Damien. “I saw him in court last month. There’s no doubt.”

“Looks like they did a real number on him first,” added Lance.

“Yeah, he doesn’t exactly look his best, that’s for sure.” Damien looked at Miguel and smiled. “You can let Big Al know that I no longer think he is dangerous.”

“Good,” replied Miguel, looking pleased. “I am also to find out if you would like any questions asked of him?”

“What do you mean,” asked Damien, glancing at the picture again. “Isn’t he dead?”

“No, not yet. We will torture him for a few days to find out everything he knows before we allow him to die.”

“How can you be sure he will tell you the truth?” asked Lance.

“We can be very persuasive.” Miguel gave a smug smile. “Besides, he is not that strong. I was told when my boss touched him with a cattle prod only once, he passed out.”

“Big Al nailed him with a cattle prod?” replied Damien, now understanding why Jack was naked in the picture.

“Actually it was my boss,” replied Miguel. “He is called El Pero and works for Big Al, who is the one who asks the questions.”

“It looks like they beat his head in,” noted Lance.

“Yes, but he will survive to tell us what we wish to know. I am told he will receive a doctor’s care to keep him alive for as long as we want. Very few men die without telling us what we wish to know.”

“I know this guy,” said Damien. “He won’t break easily. If he does talk, I am sure it will be a combination of lies to distort the truth. Something to disrupt our organizations and send us on wild goose chases. I think you should kill him immediately. Same for the girl you told me about. What if they are rescued? I am sure someone knows he was picked up by Big Al or El Pero or whoever.”

“We are certain nobody knows where he is. Even if they did, Taggart and the girl would be killed immediately if there was any sign of a rescue attempt. He is handcuffed to a pipe and being guarded in a house in the middle of a desert with many armed men, including trained commandos. Outside of the house are more professional soldiers hired for security. There is no chance he could be rescued. Also, Big Al and El Pero are well-protected in Mexico. They would never be arrested for killing anyone,” said Miguel.

“That’s good to hear, but as far as questioning him about my club, like I said, I am sure he will simply tell a pack of lies.”

“You may be right, but it is not only questions about what he knows about us we will be asking. We wish to make an example of him to prevent other police officers from interfering,”

“By killing him I can guarantee there will be a lot of police attention,” said Damien. “Although, under the circumstances, I can see you have no choice.”

“The police will not be so eager when we kill a few people who are close to them,” said Miguel.

“People close to them?” asked Damien.

“Yes. We do it in my country all the time. Killing policemen is nothing significant, but killing their families is. Those are the type of questions we will be asking him.”

“Questions about his family?” said Lance.

“Yes. We will also be asking him the names of wives and children belonging to the people he works with. Big Al has already asked him if he has a wife or children. He has told Big Al he does not, but we will find out. Perhaps you know if —”

“Messing with a cop’s family is a bad idea,” said Damien. “Asking questions in that regard is like digging your own grave.”

“What do you mean?” asked Miguel.

“Have you ever been to a bullfight?” asked Damien.

“Yes, many times,” replied Miguel. “In Mexico it —”

“Then you should know if you play with the bull, you get the horns. All it takes is one rogue cop to seek revenge … and I am not talking about legal revenge.”

“Our people are well-protected in Mexico,” interjected Ramiro. “We have done this many times. It is not a problem.”

“You do not think it will be a problem?” replied Damien, looking at Lance and raising his eyebrows.

“Not at all,” said Miguel. “So with that in mind, do you know if this man is married or if he has children?”

“I only know that he works for the RCMP Intelligence Section in Vancouver,” replied Damien.

“I see. Well, perhaps we should meet again tomorrow. Then I will tell you what we have learned so far and perhaps you will think of something you would like us to find out from him.”

Damien nodded in agreement and said, “Stay here and somebody will explain what steps you need to take to set up tomorrow’s meeting.”

As Lance and Damien walked away, Lance said, “I take it you had a reason for not telling them Taggart’s wife’s name is Natasha and she’s a doctor?”

“Hell, yes, I have a reason. There is no way I want any of that to come back on us. I meant it when I said they would be digging their own graves.”

“I agree with you there. These guys have a lot to learn about the cops in this country.”

“No shit. They don’t seem to appreciate how much they’re crossing the line. How many other cops out there have Taggart’s mentality? I’m not afraid to face our court system or some cop who follows the rules, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want someone like Taggart coming after me if I fucked with his family.”

“Still thinking about going into business with them?” asked Lance, with a jerk of his thumb back toward Miguel and Ramiro.

“That’s the dilemma. We have a great opportunity to make a lot of cash, but at the same time, killing Taggart could generate a lot of heat.”

“A hell of a lot if they start knocking off wives and kids.”

“If they do, we’ll immediately sever all ties. I need to think about this. Maybe convince them to wait a while after they kill Taggart and see what comes of it. I was thinking if they killed him down there, it might not cause too much heat up here. There is huge potential for financial growth with these guys, but they need to be educated.”

“Sounds to me like you just tried. I don’t think they were listening. If they do start killing cops’ families … what do you think will come of it?”

“Something those two clowns could probably never imagine.”

chapter forty

Jack stirred as a blinding pain in his skull brought him back to reality. He opened his eyes and saw El Pero sitting on a kitchen chair facing him from the hallway outside the laundry room. The long-barrelled revolver was shoved in his belt and he was skimming the pages of a Playboy magazine before pausing to hold up the centrefold.

El Pero saw Jack watching him and turned the picture around for Jack to see. “No more of this, for you, gringo!”

Jack did not respond, but El Pero laughed and shouted down the hallway in Spanish. Jack’s brain was too numb to follow the conversation, but a couple of men in the kitchen also laughed and yelled back.

El Pero went back to looking at more pictures and Jack tried to focus. If he turned his head slowly, images no longer appeared like multiple overlaps of themselves. He stared at El Pero while carefully cupping the pipe with his hands. His muscles strained, but he was unable to turn the pipe from where it was attached to the laundry tub.

A rubber drain plug dangling over the side of the tub gave him an idea. He could use the small spring steel loop attaching the chain to the drain plug to pick the handcuffs … given enough time and privacy.

Jack brooded about how to get El Pero to close the door. The room already reeked and he toyed with the idea that if he defecated, it might cause El Pero to close the door. But then what? Open the door and try to grab his gun? Even if I succeeded, the guys in the kitchen would gun me down … not to mention the snipers outside.

He looked at the other items in the room. The containers of bleach and ammonia sitting next to a mop, broom, and dustpan in the corner gave him another idea.

A combination of bleach and ammonia together produce a deadly chlorine gas. If I do get El Pero to close the door and get free, I could use the dust pan to pour them slowly out under the crack of the door. Maybe El Pero will die. I could sneak out and take his gun and … what the hell am I thinking? Great idea for a movie or a book. Not so good in real life … there has to be another way …

Big Al’s conversation about what they would learn from his torture came back to haunt him. He thought of Natasha and Mikey. For a moment, a small, half-smile formed on his lips as he recalled the moment.

Michael Edward Taggart … you’re our little boy. Michael Edward Taggart, you’re our pride and joy. Michael Edward Taggart, you’re such a little clown. Michael Edward Taggart, you’re fun to have around!

Jack’s smile disappeared as he reached a decision. The fear that had been overwhelming him was replaced with sadness. He truly understood how Lily felt when she believed there was no hope.

I can’t risk being taken alive. If I can get El Pero to close the door, I need to dump the bleach and ammonia in the tub and kill myself before Big Al comes back …

The sound of a truck arriving outside told Jack the expected delivery was being made. Someone in the kitchen hollered to El Pero to come and help. He hollered back that Big Al had told him to guard the gringo. The others would have to unload the truck themselves.

The sound of the men going outside caused Jack to hastily go over his plan again. He did not know how much time he had before the men outside returned, but for the moment, it was only El Pero he had to contend with. He eyed the bottles of bleach and ammonia once more, but was distracted when he noticed El Pero giving a few furtive glances down the hall toward the kitchen … and then back at Jack.

What is he up to? Jack let his head slump to his chest and closed his eyes. He heard the grate of the kitchen chair as El Pero stood up and dropped the magazine on the chair. Next he heard El Pero shuffling down the hall and opening the padlock to Lily’s room.

For Jack, it gave him hope. Thoughts of suicide were replaced with hope of survival. He knew he only had a matter of minutes to get free and turned to the drain plug, using his teeth to bite the plug and pull it free from the chain. When he did, he was able put the plug in his hands and extract the wire ring.

Normally he could have picked the lock in a few seconds. Today was not normal. The circulation had been cut from his hands because the cuffs were on too tight. His fingers were like sausages and the exertion caused his scalp to start bleeding again, causing a mixture of sweat and blood to seep into his eyes as he frantically picked at the lock.

A couple of minutes ticked past and from the painful moans emitted by Lily from down the hall, he knew he had little time left. Finally one cuff opened and he slipped it past the pipe, not bothering to take the time to try and pick the other cuff.

He crept to the doorway and looked down the hall. There was nobody in sight so he hurried to Lily’s room, leaving a trail of blood droplets along the way. The door was partially open and he looked in.

Lily was on her hands and knees on the mattress facing away from him. So was El Pero, who was mounting her anally from behind, supporting part of his weight with one hand on the mattress while clenching Lily’s hair with the other hand. Between grunts he cussed at her and his fat buttocks shook as his strokes increased in tempo. His shirt was still on, but his pants and the .32-calibre long barrelled revolver were beside the door.

It was what Jack had hoped to find. He picked up the revolver and glanced at the cylinder to see the lead ends of the bullets sticking out. There was only one. The bastard didn’t reload … one will have to do.

Jack knew the use of deadly force was restricted to imminent life-threatening situations to either the public or himself. Despite what El Pero was doing, he was unarmed. To shoot him would qualify as murder.

In theory, as Jack did not have the authority to work in Mexico, he should make a citizen’s arrest and perhaps attempt to take El Pero hostage until he could turn him over to the proper authorities.

Yeah, to murder him would be wrong … but somehow, it feels so right …

Outside, the sounds of the men unpacking the truck could clearly be heard, but he knew they would not hear the shot. I wonder if El Pero has even heard of an Italian silencer …

El Pero’s body went rigid and he belched in pain, letting go of Lily’s hair and looking back over his shoulder. Jack had rammed the pistol so hard, that his own knuckles were between El Pero’s fat buttocks.

“You like things up the ass, fatso?” asked Jack.

El Pero’s eyes went wide with fright, his buttocks automatically clenching tighter as he gasped and his lips floundered as his brain searched for what to say.

“You have the right to remain silent,” said Jack, as he pulled the trigger.

The muffled explosion that followed caused El Pero’s body to immediately go limp when the bullet travelled from his rectum, up through his intestines, stomach, and heart before stopping at his shoulder blade.

“Come on, we’ve got to get out of here,” said Jack, grabbing El Pero by the arm and rolling his body off of Lily, who lay collapsed under his weight. “Are you able to walk?”

Lily half-rolled on her side and stared up at Jack in shock, but didn’t respond.

“Did you hear me?” asked Jack. “We don’t have much time. Are you able to walk?”

“Why aren’t you wearing any clothes?” Lily asked tearfully.

“Christ, I’m not here to —” Jack paused, shocked that Lily would even think what she was thinking. He sighed and said, “I’m not wearing any clothes because they took them from me. They were torturing me, too. Come on, I came to take you back to Canada.”

“Oh,” replied Lily in shock. She blinked her eyes a couple of times and looked at Jack as he grabbed her arm and said, “Your head … you’re bleeding really bad! You’ll never be able to save —”

“Keep your voice down. Head wounds tend to look worse than they are. I’ve cut myself shaving worse than this. We don’t have time to talk. There are men outside unloading a truck. We only have a couple of minutes. Come on, let’s see if you can stand.”

Lily slowly pushed herself back up on one knee as Jack held her arm and helped her to her feet. She stood wobbling for a moment.

“You’re doing good,” said Jack, trying to sound encouraging. “Can you walk on your own?”

“I think I can,” she replied and Jack cautiously let go. She took one step and stumbled, but Jack caught her before she collapsed and lowered her back to a sitting position on the mattress.

“I can’t,” she said, her voice becoming louder as panic overcame her shock.

“Shhh! Don’t worry. I thought you might not be able to walk so I have a plan. Wait here and try to catch your breath. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Jack didn’t wait for a reply. Still holding the empty revolver, he grabbed El Pero’s pants and ran back to the laundry room, checking the pants pockets on the way. They were empty. What? You leave your cellphone in the SUV … probably along with your spare bullets … You fat bastard … wish you hadn’t died so fast …

Jack knew El Pero’s pants were far too big for him, so he grabbed his own pants and shirt from the laundry room, but did not take the time to put them on as he padded barefoot out to the kitchen and peeked out the window.

The men had unloaded boxes from a cube van that had a tomato logo on the side of it. A few boxes had been piled to one side and the men were putting the other boxes back in the truck. Jack knew he only had a minute or two left before they would be back in the house.

chapter forty-one

Berto was the first to enter the kitchen as the truck drove away. He grunted as he set a box down on the floor, then turned and wiped his brow and looked at Sanchez and Eduardo who had entered behind him, each carrying a box. He saw Sanchez’s face pale as he stood clutching the box while staring at the floor.

Berto looked to see what the problem was … and then saw the bright red drops of blood leading across the yellow-tiled floor to the counter, which was partially open.

The two mercenaries outside heard the frantic yelling of the men inside. In unison, they dropped the boxes they were carrying and with weapons in hand, burst into the kitchen.

Eduardo pointed to a bloody hand mark on the wall beside the key rack as Sanchez ran down the hall.

Seconds later, Sanchez hollered to confirm that Jack had escaped. He emitted a much louder yell when he screamed that the girl was gone and El Pero was dead.

Eduardo and Berto left the mercenaries to guard the tunnel and ran to the bedroom and stood beside Sanchez as they stared at El Pero’s body. A feeling of dread engulfed them as the realization sunk in that Big Al’s favourite nephew had been murdered … on their watch.

Moments later, the men huddled over the entrance to the tunnel. Berto bent down and flicked on the light switch, but the tunnel remained in darkness. An indentation in the wood revealed where Jack had used the barrel of the revolver to pry a wire lose from the switch.

Berto immediately called the men on the American side of the tunnel. They had not seen or heard anything yet, but would wait with their weapons poised should Jack and the girl attempt to break out at their end. When Berto hung up, he stared at Sanchez.

Sanchez swallowed nervously.

“You do it,” ordered Berto.

Sanchez nodded and used his cellphone to call Big Al.

Adams and Rubalcava were entering the outskirts of Juarez when they saw Big Al’s SUV speeding past in the opposite direction.

“What the hell? Now what?” questioned Adams.

“He couldn’t have been that far ahead of us,” noted Rubalcava. “I don’t think he would have had time to drop Jack off yet.”

“Maybe they forgot something,” suggested Adams. He looked back at the SUV and added, “Christ, whoever is driving is going like a bat out of hell.”

“Jack said they wanted him out of Casa Blanca before a delivery came. Maybe that is why the big hurry.”

Adams didn’t respond as he spun the wheel hard to turn around and follow.

Big Al’s SUV continued to drive at high speed. Adams attempted to keep up for a few minutes, but knew at the speed they were going it would make it too obvious, so he dropped farther back in traffic. They were close enough, however, that when they passed the fruit stand they were able to see a cloud of dust billow over the small hill and know it was Big Al’s vehicle pulling away from the vicinity of where the crew-cab truck was blocking the road.

“Back to the tower?” suggested Rubalcava.

Minutes later, Adams hollered down from the tower. “Little change except the SUV with the two snipers has moved back to its original position on the far hill. The ambush past the fruit stand is still in place like before.”

“Maybe in a few minutes we’ll see Big Al’s SUV returning.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

Big Al pulled up to the doorstep and ran into the house. “Where is he?” he asked.

“They’re in the tunnel,” replied Berto.

“Not that piece of shit gringo! My nephew! Where —”

“He was shot in the bedroom,” said Sanchez. “I’ll show you.”

Big Al, Sanchez, Berto, and Eduardo went back down the hall while the two mercenaries stayed to cover the entrance to the tunnel.

Big Al walked into the room and saw his nephew lying on his back on the mattress with his legs over the side. He was naked from the waist down and blood and bodily fluids had oozed out from his buttocks. His lifeless eyes, already dry from evaporation, stared dully up at the ceiling. His fat face was even more grotesquely distorted, like a rubber mask.

“And nobody heard the shot?” yelled Big Al.

“He was shot here,” said Sanchez, holding his hand like a pistol and pointing toward his own buttocks. “It muffled the sound. We were outside and did not hear it.”

Big Al dropped to one knee beside the bed and held El Pero’s hand. He made a solemn promise the gringo would pay dearly for what he had done. Then he folded El Pero’s hands across his chest, interlocking the fingers to keep them in place before gently using his fingertips to close El Pero’s eyes. Next he slowly got to his feet and mumbled a prayer, which he followed by using his finger to make the sacred sign of a cross on his own body.

Sanchez, Berto, and Eduardo politely went to make the same sign on their own bodies, but were interrupted when Big Al yelled at them to find something to cover his body.

“We have no sheets,” replied Eduardo, meekly.

“There is a towel in the bathroom. I will get it,” Sanchez said and then scurried off.

Big Al strode back to the kitchen and stood over the tunnel entrance and screamed in rage.

“Jack Taggart! I make this vow!” he yelled in English. “You murdered my nephew … so now everyone in your family will die! Not just you! Everyone! Their skin will be burned from their bodies while they scream and plead for their lives!”

Big Al stood, panting heavily for a moment, then yelled at his men in Spanish. “What are you waiting for? Go get him! Bring him to me alive, if you can.”

Before his men could respond, Big Al received a call on his cellphone. It was his boss and he gestured for his men to be quiet as he stepped back from the tunnel. He was not surprised to be called, he had already informed his boss about Jack’s real identity.

“Why have you not picked up the doctor yet?”

“There, uh, has been a big problem,” replied Big Al. “The gringo managed to grab El Pero’s gun and shoot him with it. Then he ran into the tunnel.”

“Your nephew is dead?”

“Yes. I found out about it a few minutes ago and returned to Casa Blanca.”

“And the gringo?”

“My men will drag him back out of the tunnel in a few minutes.”

“If he escapes …”

“There is no chance of that. He is like a rat trapped in a hole. I can have him plucked out very easily. When I do, we will use the doctor for a very long time.”

Jack squatted in the dark as Lily sat in front of him with her back huddled up to the front of his chest. She was only wearing Jack’s T-shirt, which acted like a short dress on her. Jack was barefoot and only wearing his pants.

He held her with one arm wrapped high around her chest and shoulders, while his other hand caressed her hair. She was going through periodic episodes where her body would shake uncontrollably, but seemed to take some comfort in his touch. What she didn’t know was Jack had positioned himself to put her in a sleeper-hold if she uttered a sound.

Jack pondered on what his next move would be. He knew when the time came, he would have to leave her alone to use the element of surprise. Would she be quiet then?

A second problem crossed his mind. I have no bullets … if I aim the gun directly at someone, they might see the cylinder is empty. If I don’t point it at them, they will realize something is wrong …

Jack came up with what he thought was an alternative. If I get a chance, point it at the back of their head … otherwise point it at their balls and see if they want to risk losing those. Bluffing is our only chance until I get a gun with bullets …

Big Al tucked his phone back in his pocket and looked into the tunnel opening. Berto had retrieved a flashlight from a kitchen drawer and shone it down the hole. Big Al peered in while his two soldiers aimed their weapons down the opening.

“Why do you not turn on the lights?” asked Big Al.

“The gringo broke it with El Pero’s gun,” replied Sanchez, “but it will be easy to fix.”

For a moment, the two mercenaries, along with Berto and Eduardo, debated whether to fix the lights. They had the option of calling out to the SUVs on the outer perimeter to bring in the night-vision goggles that they were equipped with. In that way, they would be able to see while the gringo would be in total darkness.

“I do not care what you do, just do it!” snarled Big Al.

“I will assure you,” replied one of the mercenaries, “we will take his head off … just like the iguana that fell from the tree.” He nodded toward the window. “Then we will drag him out by his feet.”

“I want him alive, if possible. Shoot him in the legs if need be but —” Big Al stopped talking and looked out the window at the carcass of the dead iguana lying in the dirt. “Did any of you see El Pero reload?” he asked.

The men looked at each other and after a short conversation it was realized the spare box of ammunition for the revolver was in the glove box of El Pero’s SUV. After Jack had been hit in the head with the rifle butt, El Pero did not return to the truck to reload, but walked with them as they dragged Jack back inside the house.

“He kept the gun … so he either does not know it is empty or is hoping to bluff us,” said Big Al, giving a grim smile.

“I’ll fix the light switch,” said Berto. “Night vision will not be necessary. Even if he is at the far end of the tunnel, we will have him on his knees in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Remember, I do not want you to kill him unless absolutely necessary,” said Big Al.

“The four of us have had training in these matters,” said Berto, with a nod toward Eduardo and the two mercenaries. “Our training included going up against men armed with machine-guns in barricaded rooms. We can bring him out whichever way you wish.”

Big Al thought for a moment and said, “Shoot off his kneecaps and make him crawl out.”

“As soon as we see him, his kneecaps are gone,” noted Eduardo.

“After that we will ask him to surrender,” added Berto, with a sneer.

chapter forty-two

Jack heard the murmur of voices and the commotion at the entrance to the tunnel as the men descended the ladder.

“Stay here. I’ll be back for you,” he whispered in Lily’s ear.

“But if you don’t —”

“If that happens, others will come and find you. Do what you must to stay alive.”

In his heart, Jack knew if he didn’t succeed, Lily would be immediately killed, too, but he wanted her to remain quiet and still. He had decided she was traumatized enough without telling her the truth.

“Marcie has talked about you,” she said quickly, in a subconscious desire to have him stay with her a little longer.

“She’s still your friend,” he said, picking up the revolver beside him and standing up. Lily reached up and clung to his wrist. “I have to go,” he said.

Lily slowly let go and wrapped her arms around her knees, drawing them tight to her chest. “I hope you kill them all,” she whispered bitterly.

Jack had not told her the revolver was empty. “I’ll do my best,” he said, wondering how many men were being sent down the tunnel after him.

Eduardo handed his pistol to Berto and then descended the ladder first, but paused on a rung of the ladder above where the roof of the tunnel started. The possibility existed that Jack could be hiding in the tunnel near the shaft, outside the view from above and attempt to grab the gun of the first person who descended the ladder.

Eduardo glanced up at the two mercenaries who were aiming their weapons down the shaft and gave a slight nod before jumping the remaining distance. He landed in a crouched position with his back against the end of the tunnel wall.

Eduardo’s smile and a wave of his hand told the others it was clear. Big Al and Sanchez peered down the shaft as the two mercenaries and Berto made their way down the ladder.

Big Al tapped Sanchez on the shoulder and said, “Go with them. Stay out of their way, but use your phone to give me a running update. After they shoot his kneecaps off, go to him and hold the phone near his ear. I will have a message for him.”

“A message?” asked Sanchez.

“Yes. That I am here waiting for him and the amount of time it takes him to crawl back will be the amount of time his family will be tortured before they die. I want to hear him scream in pain and in sorrow every time he grabs a handful of dirt to pull himself toward me.”

Jack quietly opened the bi-fold door and gingerly stepped around the plastic pail used as a toilet. He glanced at El Pero’s corpse and had a fleeting feeling of satisfaction as he headed for the hallway.

He was relieved when he saw only Big Al sitting on a kitchen chair beside the entrance to the tunnel. Big Al was at a right angle to him, but Jack still hoped he could sneak across the floor undetected and put the barrel of the gun to the back of his head.

Jack was halfway across the floor and felt a little less relieved when he realized Big Al was talking on his cellphone to someone in the tunnel. Jack was about to take another step closer when Big Al saw him.

Jack pointed the revolver at him and whispered, “Quietly hang up the phone and put your hands on your head. Make any noise, or try to warn anyone and I’ll blow your balls off.”

Big Al didn’t move as he stared back in amazement. His eyes flickered toward the hallway as he put it all together.

“Hurry up,” ordered Jack. “You’re driving us both out of here. If anyone tries to stop us, you’ll be the first to get it.”

“The gringo is with me in the house!” screamed Big Al in Spanish over his cellphone as he leaped to his feet. He glared at Jack and slowly and deliberately placed his open cellphone on the counter. “You will die for what you have done!” he said evenly.

Jack made one last attempt to bluff him by crouching in a combat position and holding the revolver with both hands as he pointed it at Big Al’s crotch.

“We all know the gun is empty,” roared Big Al, grab-bing the chair and charging at Jack like an enraged bull.

“Oh, shit,” was the only thing Jack had time to utter as he turned sideways to keep from having his ribs punctured with the bottoms of the metal chair legs.

The forced hurled him across the kitchen like he was stuck on the front of a freight train, before coming to a sudden stop when he was rammed against the wall.

One of Jack’s arms was pinned close to his body, but the other hand holding the revolver was free. Jack tried to smash the gun butt against Big Al’s face, but he saw it coming and pulled his head back.

Jack’s next assault on Big Al’s hand loosened his grip and Jack pushed the chair aside, only to be tackled to the floor by Big Al, who wrapped his arms around him like a grizzly bear as they rolled across the floor.

Big Al had the advantage of weight and soon came to rest on top, crushing Jack with his arms and his immense weight. Jack tried to knee him in the groin, but Big Al simply moved his lower body to one side without letting go.

They were face to face as Jack tried in vain to wriggle free. Eventually he stopped struggling.

“Giving up so easily, my little gringo?” smiled Big Al, as sweat dripped off his face onto Jack’s.

Jack lunged his head forward, biting and twisting as his teeth ripped and tore through the end of Big Al’s nose like a starving pit bull tearing into a steak.

Big Al screamed, pushing Jack on the chest in a frantic bid to get away. When he did get to his feet and break free, Jack spit out the end of his nose and delivered a swift punch to his solar plexis.

The wind exploded out of Big Al’s lungs like a popped balloon and he gasped for air. Another grunt and expulsion of air followed when Jack savagely kicked him in the groin, followed by a punch to his throat and a final kick to his knee that sent him sprawling face-down on the floor.

Big Al had no strength to resist when Jack sat on his back and used a scissor-like grip with his arms around Big Al’s neck to strangle the flow of blood his carotid artery supplied to his brain. Given enough time the hold would kill, but the sound of yelling from the tunnel told Jack he didn’t have the time.

As soon as Big Al lost consciousness, Jack rolled him over on his back and took the keys from his pocket.

He knew he should call for Lily, but as he looked at Big Al, the memory of the questions Big Al had asked him were still vivid.

What the hell … if they get me for killing El Pero, they may as well get me for killing you too …

Jack leaped high in the air, drawing his feet under him before landing with his heels on each of Big Al’s collar bones. They both snapped like kindling.

Big Al awoke with a scream and tried to move, before realizing his arms didn’t work and any movement brought severe pain.

Sanchez was running full tilt and nearing the bottom of the ladder when he heard Big Al screaming for help and yelling that Jack had broken both his arms. Unfortunately for Big Al, he had his head tilted back toward the tunnel when he was yelling and didn’t see Jack’s next move, which was to jump again, landing on his rib cage, breaking more bones.

Big Al cried out and closed his eyes in pain. Jack jumped once more, only this time he kept his legs tucked under and landed with his knees on the ribcage, driving the broken ribs into Big Al’s lungs.

Another voice yelled in Spanish and Sanchez realized it was Jack yelling at Big Al.

“You got any more questions to ask me about my family? Eh? Do you?”

The last sound Sanchez heard from Big Al was a loud, gurgling scream as he plunged headfirst down the shaft.

Jack tore the mended wire from the light switch, plunging the tunnel into darkness. He was shoving the counter back into position when he heard Sanchez screaming from the bottom of the ladder that the gringo had killed Big Al.

It gave Jack a sense of satisfaction to hear the panic in Sanchez’s voice. That’s right, you bastard. The big boss died on your watch …

Jack hollered for Lily and grabbed Big Al’s cellphone off the counter, before running to the hallway where he met Lily who stumbled and hysterically crawled in a frenzy toward him.

chapter forty-three

Jack wrapped an arm around Lily and helped her to the door and peered outside. Big Al’s SUV was parked at the bottom of the steps leading up to the porch. He could also see the other SUV with the snipers parked at the spot from where they had killed the iguana.

With the sun setting in the west, he knew he was facing south. From having been in the yard earlier, he also knew the only road he had seen came from the south, ending at Casa Blanca. Leaving on the road would take them closer to the snipers, who were to the southwest.

He hoped there was another way.

“There are bad guys on that far hill,” said Jack, as he pointed. “I’ve got the keys to the car at the bottom of the steps. We’ll keep low and make a dash down the steps. The SUV has tinted windows, so if they don’t see us, once I start to drive they might think it’s their own guys leaving.”

“Where are the rest of the guys?” she cried, looking around in panic.

“I don’t have time to talk. We gotta go.”

Jack crouched, not letting go of Lily’s waist as they scrambled down the stairs. Once there, the vehicle blocked them from the view of the snipers.

So far, so good, thought Jack. He saw his own sandals near the bottom of the steps where they had fallen off earlier. He put them on before opening the driver’s door and pushing Lily inside. “Sit on the floor and stay below the dash,” he ordered.

Jack started the engine and pulled away. As he drove, he sat low in the seat and leaned toward the middle of the vehicle. He hoped if the snipers tried to take him out that they would aim for the windshield directly in front of the steering wheel. It left him in an awkward position, but he was still able to grip the steering wheel with both hands while eyeing the snipers’ SUV on the far hill.

When no shots came after about half a minute, he handed Big Al’s cellphone to Lily and gave her the number to call Adams. “When he answers, tell him who you are and that you’re with me,” he said tersely. “If they start shooting at us I’m going to need both hands to drive.”

In the tunnel, the loss of lights was only temporary. Berto still had the flashlight he had taken from the kitchen drawer earlier. While he and Sanchez examined Big Al and believed he had died of a broken neck, the two mercenaries were each using their own cellphones to alert the security teams outside. The teams on the American side were also called to cover the border in the event Jack tried to drive cross-country.

As Jack told Lily the numbers to dial, he saw a figure emerge from the SUV on the hill and hustle around to the other side of the vehicle to join the other man who was looking out over the hood of the vehicle. He knew they were likely using the SUV to steady their aim. They know …

“It’s ringing,” said Lily. “Is he near here?”

“How the hell …” Jack stopped, trying to control the panic he felt and said, “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Where should I tell him we are?” she asked, bringing her head above the dash to look around.

“Stay down!” yelled Jack.

Jack didn’t want to tell Lily he didn’t know where they were. Her body was shaking uncontrollably and her voice was shrill with panic. He wanted her to keep it together in the event they ended up ditching the vehicle and making a run for it.

“I’m sorry,” she cried, ducking back down.

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have yelled. Tell him we’re driving southbound toward a paved highway from Casa Blanca.”

“It’s ringing, but nobody is answering,” cried Lily.

Damn it, John! Where are you? Answer!

Seconds later, Jack drove out of the hollow where Casa Blanca was situated and it gave him a better view as he scanned the area. His first thought was to turn around and drive over the rough terrain to the border. He knew it had to be close as he had been told that the tunnel was two miles long, but also remembered Big Al saying there was as much security on that side.

Jack realized that not only would the men on the American side know the layout of the land, but by the time he tried to drive the distance over rough land, they would have a reception waiting for him, while the men on the Mexican side closed in behind.

He tried to remember when he was blindfolded as to what happened when they turned off the highway. He remembered the vehicle stopping almost immediately as Sanchez spoke to someone who was obviously providing security. Was it the same guys who are on the hill looking down at us? It wasn’t long after when we reached Casa Blanca …

He looked to the east. The land was rugged and he did not see any roads, but a reflection from the sun on a far-off hill told him there was likely a security vehicle there.

Jack clenched his jaw and continued to drive south while keeping a watchful eye on the snipers. They didn’t move and slipped from his vision for a few seconds periodically when the dirt road dipped in and out over a few small knolls.

“It’s rung, like, twenty times … he’s not answering!” said Lily.

Jack grabbed the phone, hung up, and pressed redial. Why haven’t they opened up on us yet? He saw that Lily had dialled the number wrong and quickly punched in the correct digits.

As the phone rang, he came over a small hill and saw another road branching off to the right. It looked less travelled and would take him directly in front of where the snipers were. Is this why they haven’t shot yet? Hoping I’ll turn off and drive by in front of them?

He thought it was an easy decision to stay on the road he was on. It also looked hillier up ahead and offered a few more hidden spots where he would temporarily be out of sight of the snipers … if he could make it that far.

As he approached the intersection, he grabbed the rear-view mirror, twisting it down and using it to see the road ahead while looking up from below the dash. He expected the windshield to explode with bullets any second.

His driving slowed, but he still accidentally hit the ditch, causing his vehicle to slide sideways. He sat up in panic and regained control of the SUV, but decided against trying to use the mirror to drive.

Adams clung to the tower, occasionally wiping the sweat from his eyes as he used his binoculars. “We got some activity,” he reported down to Rubalcava. “The guys at the ambush area beyond the fruit stand are out on the road talking. Looks like the truck that was blocking the road is pulling out. Probably coming back to pick them up.”

“Good. Maybe Jack is finished and on his way out.”

“Yeah, hope so,” replied Adams, refocusing the binoculars to look at the snipers on the far hill. “Fuck! What the hell is going on? The two snipers are out of their vehicle again. One has a sniper rifle laid across the hood and the other is spotting with binos.”

“Aiming where they did before?”

“Yeah … hang on, my cellphone is ringing.” Adams fumbled with the binoculars, not wanting to put them down as he watched the snipers. Eventually he looped one arm through girder and was able to use that hand to hold the binoculars while fishing in his pocket for his phone.

“Am I glad to hear your voice,” said Jack when Adams answered the call.

“Where the hell are you?” Adams’s voice was sharp with relief.

“I was hoping you would know. I’ve been burned. They know who I really am. I’ve got Lily. We stole Big Al’s SUV and we’re southbound from Casa Blanca on some dirt road.”

“There’s a sniper on a hill lining up on you right now!”

“I know. I see them. They’re to the southwest of me. I’m surprised they haven’t shot at me yet. Maybe they don’t think I see them and are waiting for me to get closer. Where are you?”

“Watching from a radio tower south of you.”

“I can’t see any tower.”

“I can’t see you, either,” replied Adams, swinging around to take another look toward the fruit stand. The group of men were setting up the ambush again, only this time in the opposite direction.

“I’m leaving a lot of dust behind,” continued Jack. “You should see something soon. If the sniper doesn’t pop me in another minute or two, I’ll be out of his sight.”

“Don’t come south!” screamed Adams. “A bunch of guys have set up an ambush. There is no way you could survive it.”

“Explains why the assholes on the hill haven’t shot at me yet.”

“You gotta turn off. Don’t come this way!”

“There’s a small hill up ahead. I’ll be out of the sniper’s sight. Guess our only hope is to try and drive overland to the east, but I know there is someone there, as well.”

“There’s a farmhouse to the east where the bad guys were. Also a road leading south from it. They’ll have a lot of guys there waiting for you long before you reach it.”

“Leaves us to try and sneak out on foot,” said Jack, as he glanced at Lily. The ground was splattered with small cactus plants and the ground was extremely hot. Lily was barefoot and he thought of shredding the T-shirt she was wearing and using it to wrap her feet, but he knew in her condition he would still end up carrying her.

“Christ, I’m coming in,” said Adams. “You two will never make it on foot on your own. Maybe I can distract their fire or something.”

“Not yet. You’re my eyes right now …” Jack glanced toward the snipers and saw that a hill was blocking his sight. “I’m out of sight of the snipers,” he reported. “Don’t know for how long.”

“I can see dust!” said Adams excitedly.

“Mine or someone else’s?”

“I hope yours. Coming from the same direction they took you down.”

So close, yet so far, thought Jack.

“Wait! The snipers on the hill are mobile!” yelled Adams.

“Where? Which direction?”

“Give me a minute … okay, I think they are moving east toward another hill where they were earlier. It will give them a view of the ambush.”

“How long will it take them to get there?”

“Five or ten minutes.”

“I’m going back. There was another road that went to the west,” said Jack. “I didn’t take it earlier because it would have passed right in front of the snipers.”

“They’ll see your dust. They’ll know you turned around.”

“It’s not like I have a choice. Here, meet Lily. I’ve got some driving to do,” said Jack as he handed the phone to Lily who was crouched under the dash.

Jack spun the vehicle around and drove back from where he came. The SUV bounced over the potholes as Jack wrestled with the steering wheel to keep it on the road. Twice it became airborne over small dips in the road. The first time it caused Lily to bang her head on the dash and drop the phone, but she didn’t complain, scrambling to pick it up again while wedging her body tighter between the seat and under the dash.

From the conversation Jack heard, he knew Adams was trying to soothe her.

When Jack approached the intersection, he saw another cloud of dust approaching from Casa Blanca. The men were obviously out of the tunnel.

Jack cranked the wheel and headed west, trying to keep his eyes on the road while taking occasional glances at the hilltop where the snipers had been parked moments ago.

“Tell him we’re westbound, but I have no idea where the road will take us,” said Jack, trying to keep his voice even so he would at least sound like he was in control of the situation. He estimated about three minutes passed before the white SUV from Casa Blanca sent up a wave of stone and dust as it turned on to the same road to follow him in hot pursuit.

Lily relayed back and said, “He says he can’t see your dust trail anymore. He is going to come down off the tower and head west on the highway and see if he can join up with us.”

“Good idea. Right now we’ve only got one vehicle chasing us. It would be nice to know what to expect farther up —”

A click sound came from the door panelling behind him and he swore to himself, realizing that the snipers had returned to the hilltop. Most people would presume being in a vehicle struck with a bullet would sound like you were in a tin can being beaten by somebody with a ball-peen hammer. In reality, a high-powered bullet, providing it doesn’t hit a cross-bar, passes through the tin on door panelling like it was made of paper and sounds more like somebody flicking their fingernail against metal.

Jack also knew the same was true for the human body. If hit, the head or body is not flung back like action sequences in a movie. The bullet passes through at such a high velocity, that for a person sitting hunched on the floor like Lily, the first indication she may have been hit could be her silence.

“Are you okay?” asked Jack anxiously.

“No! I’m scared,” she replied, turning to look up at him.

“Good,” uttered Jack, feeling relieved.

“Good? What do ya mean, good?”

“If you weren’t scared it would mean you were a moron,” replied Jack.

Lily screamed as the rear passenger-side window behind Jack exploded and the bullet passed through the front passenger side of the windshield, making a large, spider-webbed hole.

“Well I must be a fuckin’ genius, ’cause I’m really scared now!” Lily cried.

Jack didn’t know if she was intentionally being funny or if it was something she blurted out in panic, but he had no time to respond as he crested another rise in the road and saw it swerve sharply to the north. It gave him some relief as the dust trailing out from behind would act as cover. Some, but not completely. He heard another click in the roof above his head.

Seconds later, the road came to an abrupt end and Jack came to a sliding stop as the dust overtook and billowed around him. They were at what had once been someone’s home, but all that was left was a cement pad and a few concrete blocks from where the floor had been.

Behind the ruins was a gully zigzagging its way down from the hills and Jack had abruptly driven up to it. He estimated the gully to be about twice the depth of the SUV and about as wide as the length of an Olympic swimming pool. There was a dried creek bed in the bottom, but the gully was far too steep for him to drive in and out of. Even if he made it to the bottom of the creek bed, there were too many boulders, rocky outcrops, clumps of brush, and collapsed creek banks for him to attempt to drive along it.

Jack glanced to his left and right. To go overland would make them like slow moving ducks at a carnival … only with trained sharpshooters who could pick off their body parts as they pleased.

The gully itself contained enough hiding spots that it would take four or five men to form a line to clear it. But then what? Once we’re discovered …

The dust was settling around him and he knew the SUV from Casa Blanca would soon be upon them. A bullet took out his side mirror, prompting his next move. “Hang on!” he yelled, while stepping on the gas and driving nose-first into the gully.

The vehicle slid down the bank and came to rest with the undercarriage hung up on a boulder. It hadn’t quit rocking yet when Jack was out and helping Lily climb out.

“I’m okay. I think I can walk,” she said, still gripping the cellphone.

Jack considered telling her that walking was not really an option, but the sound of Adams yelling into the cellphone changed his mind. He grabbed the phone and said, “John, I ditched the wheels and am in a gully. Give me a sec.”

Jack figured he had about three minutes before the men from Casa Blanca arrived. I left these guys a false trail before … will they be tricked again?

“Head that way,” ordered Jack, pointing to the south.

If a person was careful, they could thread their way along the stones in the dried creek bed without leaving much of a trail. He was also hoping their pursuers would think they would want to head north to the border.

As Lily scrambled away, Jack followed her and purposefully dislodged a few fist-sized stones while speaking on the phone with John.

“You still there?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, I’m coming. I’ll find the gully and come and get you. I’ll bring you a piece and we can shoot our way out.”

Jack knew that anything but a small army would lose against the number of professionals they were up against. He glanced up at the sides of the gully. Talk about shooting fish in a rain barrel … but up above would be worse.

Jack grimaced as he stared at the cellphone. He knew John would risk his life for them without question.

“Did you hear me?” asked John.

“What the fuck is it with you Americans and guns?” said Jack, hoping his voice sounded angry and not scared like he really was. “Stay the hell away until I need you. I gotta shut the phone off or the bad guys will hear. I’ll call you when I need you.”

“What the fuck! If you don’t need me now, when the hell will you need me?”

“When I call you back. Until then, wait on the highway someplace to the south of me,” said Jack, before hanging up.

When Jack came to the first bend in the gully, he came upon a waist-high cactus plant. He ripped his back pocket off and was sticking it on the spines of the cactus when he heard the men from Casa Blanca arrive.

Jack saw that it was too far to make it undetected to the next turn in the gully. He grabbed Lily and took cover under a clump of dried brown reeds that hung over the creek embankment. It was only a couple of steps past the cactus plant from which his pants pocket hung, but it was the best spot he could find in the time he had available.

He jammed Lily in a prone position tight to the bank and crouched over her and tried to arrange the reeds to cover them. He knew it would only stand for a cursory glance before he was seen. These men were professionals. His hiding spot might remain undetected from above, but for anyone approaching from below, once they walked alongside them, they would be clearly visible.

If he attacked, he knew he would be shot, but if he succeeded in crushing the skull of even one of them, it would give him some satisfaction. He wrapped his fingers around a rock and waited.

Besides, being shot is better than being taken alive …

chapter forty-four

Adams climbed down from the tower and clamoured over the fence to his car where he updated Rubalcava on the situation as he drove. Moments later, they turned onto the highway and headed west. Several minutes later, Adams spotted a large culvert that ran under the highway. “Ya think this is it?” asked Adams.

“I don’t know,” replied Rubalcava. “Not what I would call a gully. Let’s drive farther.”

A ways down the road, they came to a dip in the highway that crossed a bridge over a more promising gully.

“This has to be it,” muttered Adams as they drove past and scanned the gully below.

“He wants us to wait in the car?”

“The asshole is trying to protect me. I’ll park and go in and find them. You better stay in the car. They don’t know me, but they sure as hell know you and your family.”

Rubalcava sighed and said, “No, wait. I remember a bridge on this highway, but I don’t think this is it. A little farther ahead there is a bigger bridge. Also, there are more gullies after that.”

“Christ.”

Two minutes down the road, Adams discovered that Rubalcava was right.

“What do we do?” asked Rubalcava.

“I don’t know. I guess we wait until we hear from him,” replied Adams bitterly. He found a place to park, opened the windows and shut the car off to listen.

Jack listened to the voices of the men as they looked down over the edge of the gully. He was hoping they would sound excited. Excited people make mistakes, but these men sounded calm. He heard one of the mercenaries give an order. Berto, Eduardo, and the second mercenary scrambled into the gully and he heard them yell back that the vehicle was empty.

Jack did not hear Sanchez and presumed he had been left to guard Casa Blanca. That leaves me with four trained professional killers … and more on the way.

Soon Berto yelled, “This way!” and the three men fanned out and started to move south along the gully toward their hiding place, while the mercenary up above moved along the edge of the gully with them.

Berto was the first man Jack saw come into view, quickly followed by one of the mercenaries. Berto pointed to the piece of cloth on the cactus and the two men approached to look at it. Jack only had a profile view of the mercenary, but Berto faced him directly and he stared into his scowling face.

Jack held his breath and was conscious of Lily doing the same. Berto was close enough that he could see the beads of sweat on his forehead.

The mercenary pulled the piece of cloth off the cactus as Berto took another step closer as his eyes scanned the creek embankment. Jack gripped the rock and tensed his leg muscles, ready to spring forth.

“It’s his back pocket,” said the mercenary. “The turned rocks … this … he has given us a false trail,” he said. He turned and yelled to the other men, “The other way. He has gone north, toward the border!”

Jack waited a full minute after they left before leaving the hiding spot. Any noise, a slip, or stones moving beneath their feet would bring them back. He helped Lily to her feet where she swayed and grabbed a clump of reeds for support.

“I’ll piggy-back you,” he whispered.

“I think I can walk,” she whispered back. “Just give me a minute.”

“In your condition you won’t be able to walk without making noise. Also you’d burn your feet. I’ll piggy-back you. In the meantime, no talking.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Jack lowered Lily to the ground and held his finger to his lips as he gestured to her to be quiet. “I need to rest,” he whispered, while listening intently to see if they were being followed. He did not hear the sound of anyone trailing them, but was rewarded by the sound of a truck passing by somewhere ahead of them.

Adams answered his phone on the first ring.

“We’re close,” said Jack, “and I don’t think we have any company. The problem is we’ve come to a fork in the gully. Tap your horn twice, will you?”

Adams did as requested and asked, “Did you hear it?”

“Yup. Sounds like I need to take the right fork. Shouldn’t be long.”

“I’m parked at the end of a bridge, pretending to change a tire. Hope it’s over the same gully.”

“Guess we’ll find out. I’m hanging up, but give me ten minutes and tap again.”

A few minutes later Jack called again. “Don’t bother to honk, we see you.”

“I’ll be right down,” replied Adams, when he spotted Jack waving at him in the distance.

“Think you should stay there. If we need covering fire you’ll be in a better position. Of course, I’m Canadian, what the hell do I know about gun fights …” Jack knew that humour was a good way to relieve stress and right now he could use a truckload of it.

As soon as he hung up, Lily asked, “Is it okay to talk now?”

“Yeah, I hope so. I think we’ve made it.” Jack knew it was a mistake as soon as he said it. Lily was able to keep her emotions in check when the stress was still on her because she knew she had to. Now she thought she was safe and let her emotions erupt by bursting into tears and sobbing. Jack lowered her and held her in his arms to comfort her.

“Can I phone my mom, now?” she pleaded.

“Sorry, not on this phone. It belongs to a bad guy. I don’t want them knowing your mom’s phone number. Wait until we get to the car and use John’s phone.”

Lily released her embrace and said, “And my boyfriend, Earl. He’s gotta be going out of his mind with worry,” she added, looking closely at Jack’s face.

Jack sighed and said, “Actually, John’s phone isn’t a good idea, either. We’ll need to keep it available. You’ll have to wait until we get you to the hospital.”

Lily stared silently at Jack.

“What is it?” asked Jack.

“He left me, didn’t he?”

“Did who leave you?”

“Please, what I have been through … what we have been through. Tell me the truth. One of the men who raped me said Earl took their dope money and split. He said they killed him a few days later. Is that true?”

Jack sighed and said, “Yes, it’s true.”

“So he was into dealing drugs, just like Marcie warned me,” said Lily, tearfully.

“He was a mule. Running money back to the cartel.”

“Did he even report me missing?”

“No. Your mom did that and Marcie told me about it. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be,” replied Lily bitterly, as her sorrow was replaced with anger. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. Marcie was sure right about the guy. Wish I had listened.”

Jack looked up and saw two vultures circling overhead. It gave him an uneasy feeling and he said, “We better get going. You can use John’s phone to call your mom,” added Jack, as he turned around and squatted to piggyback her again.

“I want so bad to talk to her,” said Lily, as she climbed on Jack’s back.

“I’m sure,” replied Jack, as he stumbled forward. “I’ve met your mom. She seems like a really nice lady.”

“She’s the best mom there is. I haven’t exactly always been an easy kid to get along with.”

“I don’t know. You seem like a good kid to me. I know you’re a hard worker.”

“Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“I’ve seen how you look after the yard. Looks great. A lot of kids wouldn’t make the effort you put into it.”

“Are you kidding? Mom makes me do yard work as punishment. I’m always out in the yard weeding or doing something.”

Jack chuckled, despite still being worried about their safety.

“I never thanked you for what you did,” said Lily.

“It’s okay.”

“You saved my life and, and … killing that guy who was … thank you.”

Oh yeah … that. “I need to put you down for a moment,” said Jack. Once he faced her he said, “Killed what guy?”

“You know … the guy who was … who was … you know, on me when you came in the room.”

“To shoot an unarmed man like that would be murder.”

“But —”

“Please listen to me. You’re suffering from deep shock. Your brain has blocked out certain things. What happened was I was there in an undercover capacity. They found out who I was and handcuffed me to a pipe in the laundry room.”

“I know. I heard them … and you, once, when you screamed.”

“Yeah, well, after that they left me alone. Then I heard a couple of the bad guys arguing about whose turn it was to rape you. First I saw a guy named El Pero walk past the laundry room and minutes later, another guy I don’t know went by with a revolver. It must have been him who killed El Pero. I picked the lock on my handcuffs when he returned to the kitchen and went into the bedroom to get you.”

Lily stared at him and Jack knew she wasn’t believing a word he’d said.

“But you had the gun in your hand. I saw it,” she said.

“It was empty. No bullets. Guess that is why the guy left it. I didn’t know until after I picked it up.”

“You’re trying to tell me you didn’t shoot him?” she said, incredulous.

“Under the circumstances, not only would I not have been allowed to shoot him, if I actually did shoot him, I might be returned to Mexico to face charges for murder. You would be called as a witness, as well.”

“Oh my God … for real?”

“Yes, a damned good chance of it.”

“But the other men who were there — what will they say?”

“They’re not going to come forward and say anything. It would be admitting their part in the smuggling operation as well as kidnapping and assaulting you. Besides, they’re bad guys. Who could believe anything they say? The basis of truth will rest upon the statements you and I give … providing you never give a different account of anything to anyone else.”

Lily nodded and said, “Now I understand, but, like, for a statement … I want to make sure I say the right thing.”

“I want you to say the right thing, as well.”

“So after some guy shot El Pero and left, you came in the room and told me to wait and went back to where they were?”

“Yeah, well, first I heard the man who did the shooting get in a big fight in the kitchen with a guy named Big Al.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.”

“Okay, it’s coming back to me now.”

“Good. Then a truck showed up to unload cocaine and I snuck into the kitchen and stole a set of keys off the counter when the men were down the tunnel hauling the dope away.”

“Then you came back and got me and we ran out of the house.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, I think I’ve got it now.”

“Good.”

“So, to clarify everything, you and I weren’t hiding in the closet when some guy was praying over the body in the room and later was screaming he was going to kill you because you killed his nephew?”

“Nope. I never hid in any closet … let alone kill anyone.”

“Okay. I guess I didn’t hide in a closet, either.”

“Good.” Jack gave her a sideways glance and added, “It must have been two other people who were hiding in the closet.”

“Yeah, it must have been,” smiled Lily. It was the first time she had smiled in twenty-one days and nineteen hours.

chapter forty-five

As soon as Jack and Lily scrambled into the back seat, Adams quickly drove away. Under Rubalcava’s direction, Adams headed west on the highway and turned on another road going south. This road intersected with yet another road that would see them back in Juarez half an hour later.

Rubalcava, Adams, and Jack were all seasoned veterans. One would expect them to have become as emotionally tough as one could imagine, but all three men had tears spilling out of their eyes as Lily, sitting with Jack’s arm around her, called her mom to say she was alive.

When Adams stopped in an alley in Juarez to let Rubalcava out, Jack also got out to say a quick goodbye.

“I just realized it is dinnertime,” said Jack. “What about your two sons at school? You weren’t there to pick them up.”

“My wife took care of it. I was a little busy this afternoon.”

Jack smiled and said, “Having an affair, according to the rumours.”

Rubalcava grinned. “Of course, but I do recall getting some work done this afternoon, as well.”

“For that, I want to thank you. I really owe you one.”

“No, amigo, it is my country that owes you a debt. Perhaps someday it will be safe for you to bring your wife and children here to meet my family. It would be an honour to have you stay with us.”

“I would really like that. Be safe, my friend,” added Jack, as they gave each other a hug.

Twenty minutes later, Adams drove across The Bridge of the Americas with Jack and Lily both crammed into the trunk. It was an extra precaution that was not needed, as the trip was made without incident.

Once in El Paso, Adams drove Jack and Lily to a hospital for examination. Jack was immediately taken for a CAT scan while Lily was admitted to a different examining room.

Jack lay momentarily unattended on a gurney while waiting for the results of the scan and Adams took the opportunity to talk to him. It was the first time they had been alone together since morning.

“I should call Weber and tell him what happened,” said Adams.

“He’s your boss. You better call him.”

“What did happen?”

“Don’t get yourself in trouble. Tell them the truth. I heard the bad guys last night saying Lily was still alive, but that they were going to kill her soon. I made a decision to go to Mexico on my own as I believed there wasn’t time to save her if I had gone through channels. You and your friend helped me. I found Lily, grabbed her, and stole a vehicle and … well, you know the rest.”

“Yeah, but …”

“But what?”

“You make it sound so simple. They found out who you were and busted your skull open. These guys were armed to the teeth and you had nothing. How the hell did you escape? What happened in there?”

“They handcuffed me to a pipe. I simply picked the handcuffs, stole a set of keys, grabbed Lily, and bolted. There’s nothing more to say.”

“What about El Pero?”

“What about him?”

“He was Big Al’s nephew for Christ’s sake. I don’t believe one of the guys shot him.”

“I was shocked, too, but you can ask Lily. Must have been someone higher up the ladder than Big Al’s nephew. Maybe the guy who killed him was related to Guajardo himself, or one of the Carrillo Fuentes brothers.”

“Big Al would go ape-shit if that happened.”

“I did hear Big Al fighting with someone later in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, that’s what you said. Then you said they all went outside to unload a truck. Sounds to me like Big Al got over the death of his nephew pretty easy. Then everyone heads down the tunnel with the dope and you grab some keys and escape with Lily.”

Jack nodded.

“That’s another thing. I don’t see Big Al doing a peon’s job of going down the tunnel. He would have stayed in the house.”

“Maybe that’s who it was,” said Jack, thoughtfully.

“What are you talking about?”

“Did I mention I thought there was someone using the bathroom when we left?”

Adams stared silently at Jack.

“Listen,” said Jack, “I’ve been beat on the head, tortured, still having vision problems, and I’m exhausted. I’m sure some details will come up that need further explaining, but now is not the time.”

“You do know I’m your friend, right?”

“Without a doubt. I’m just really tired. Try to imagine how I feel. A lot of things are going through my mind right now.”

“I bet I know exactly how you feel. Tired, scared … and feeling alone and wondering if you did the right thing.”

This time it was Jack who stared silently in response. Feeling alone and wondering if I did the right thing? Few people know about that, unless …

“Anyway,” replied Adams, “I’ll give you some time to think about it. In the meantime, I’ll call Weber.”

Jack remained on the gurney, but watched as Adams walked down the corridor while calling Weber on his cellphone. When he returned, Jack asked, “What did he have to say?”

“He was astounded,” replied Adams. “He wanted to come right over and congratulate you and meet Lily, but I convinced him you both needed your rest tonight.”

“I appreciate that. Did he give you any flak about me going to Mexico?”

“He doesn’t care about that. He’s not your boss and as far as I go, he knows I sneak across quite often to meet my CIs. He said he wasn’t surprised we went. He said he could tell you and I were two of a kind from the first day we met.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a neurologist and a hospital psychologist who both arrived to talk to Jack.

Jack was told he had a hairline fracture in his skull, but there was no sign of bleeding under the skull. It was, however, recommended he stay overnight for observation.

Lily was suffering from dehydration, but her physical injuries were relatively minor compared to the psychological damage and it was recommended she also stay overnight, but be returned to her home environment as soon as possible. Jack said he would try to arrange for their trip tomorrow.

“I don’t believe the psychological damage will ever completely heal,” said the psychologist, “but in time she will think about it less and less.”

“She is going to have nightmares for years to come,” said Jack.

“Sadly, I would agree with you,” replied the psychologist. “Do the media know about it?”

“Not that I am aware of,” replied Jack. “In Canada it was being investigated as a missing person. We didn’t find out until today that she had actually been kidnapped.”

“Her recovery will go a lot smoother if she is not being hounded,” said the psychologist.

“Only a few people know,” said Jack. “I don’t see anyone calling the media.”

After a short discussion, Adams made some calls and Jack and Lily were admitted to the hospital under fictitious names. They were both put in the same room where they were to be placed under armed guard for the night. Adams stayed in the room with them while waiting for the security detail to arrive.

As soon as the orderlies left the room, Jack looked at Adams and asked, “Did you talk to Weber about the tunnel?”

“Oh, yeah. I think he was dancing on his desk he was so happy,” replied Adams. “Speaking of which, do you think you’re up for a quick airplane ride tomorrow morning to do a little recon?”

“If my head doesn’t explode, I will be. I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

“Good. All the troops will be out first thing in the morning. As soon as we locate Casa Blanca and figure out where the tunnel comes up on our side, they’ll be going in. Davidson is arranging things on the Mexican side.”

“We know how that will go with the Mexicans. There won’t be anyone there,” said Jack.

“Yeah, but it’s not like the bad guys don’t know we’re coming, anyway.”

“Think there will be an attempt at retribution?”

“Against you or your family … possibly, if Big Al has his way,” Adams noted.

“You think there’s a chance he won’t have his way?” Jack kept his expression neutral, masking his knowledge that Big Al wouldn’t be getting his way ever again.

“He was responsible for letting you escape … along with everyone else in that house. I wouldn’t want to be in any of their shoes right now.”

“Think they’ll get spanked?”

“There’s a good chance of it, although Big Al is high enough up he might be able to deflect the heat off onto the others. We’ll have to wait and see what happens. Maybe our friend will hear something. In the meantime, when you get back to Canada you may want to think about packing a gun with you on a permanent basis.”

“Just one?”

“What are you trying to do? Become an American?”

Jack chuckled and was relieved the rest of their conversation was light-hearted. Two men arrived for the security detail and after Adams made a quick introduction, one of them handed Adams two cellphones. He gave one each to Jack and Lily and said, “Make as many calls as you want on these tonight. Courtesy of the U.S. government.”

Lily immediately called her mom and while she was on the phone, Adams looked at Jack and said, “I should stay with you tonight.”

“It’s almost six … I haven’t slept in forty hours,” complained Jack, “and I have the worst headache I’ve ever had in my life. What do you want to do? Keep me awake bullshitting all night?”

“Well … yeah,” grinned Adams. “I thought we could talk about what kind of gun you should carry. I could explain the different calibres to you and what type goes best if you’re wearing a bathing suit. That sort of thing.”

“Please, no jokes. Laughing makes my head hurt worse. Go home to Yolanda. We’ve got work to do in the morning and I’ve still got my notes to write tonight.”

Adams nodded and said, “Get some sleep. You, too, Lily! I’ll see you in the morning.”

As soon as Adams left, Jack called Natasha. With the one-hour time difference it was five o’clock in the evening in Vancouver.

“Hi, babe! It’s free to talk,” said Jack.

“Good. Where are you?”

“Still in El Paso, but the mission is accomplished. We found Lily. She’s with me right now talking to her mom on another phone.”

“I know. Lily also called her mom about an hour ago. Her mom called Marcie and she called me. That’s wonderful. I’m so happy.”

“Me, too.”

“So everything went okay?”

“A few drinks, a few laughs, nobody got hurt. Well, I picked up a small cut on the top of my head. Nothing serious.”

“Your voice doesn’t sound quite right. You sure everything is okay?”

“Actually it was hell, but I’m okay. I’ll tell you about it when I get home. Right now, I’m exhausted and … uh ….”

“And what?”

“It’s been one of those days where the importance of family really hits home. I love you so much.”

“I love you, too.”

“I’ve got a favour to ask. Is Mikey awake?”

“It’s five o’clock. What do you think? He’s propped up in his highchair with Pablum all over his face. Do you want to say hi?”

“Yes, but first I wonder if I could get you to sing to him. There’s something I would like to hear.”

“Sing to him? Okay … do you want me to sing the Dr. Hook song, Freakin’ at the Freaker’s Ball?”

“No, not that one. Your song about him being our little boy, our pride and joy.”

“I can do that.”

Jack listened to Natasha sing the song and didn’t care if someone saw the tears streaming down his face.

“How was that?” asked Natasha.

“Probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. Let me say hi to the little fart.”

Jack unsuccessfully tried to get Mikey to talk, but eventually Natasha cut in and said, “Well, you got him to smile and spit Pablum all over the mouthpiece.”

“I heard him.”

“So when are you coming home?”

“Tomorrow is Friday … we have a mop-up operation to do in the morning. A couple of houses to search. I also have to arrange for Lily to get proper travel documents, not to mention clothes. Everything she had was stolen. Still, with luck, there is a flight out of here tomorrow around four in the afternoon and it arrives in Vancouver just before ten at night. I’ll call you later to confirm it.”

“So tomorrow won’t be dangerous?”

“No. The bad guys know we’re coming so they won’t even be there.”

Jack was right about the fact that he didn’t have to worry about the bad guys. It was the good guys who were still after him.

chapter forty-six

Just before dawn, Adams arrived at the hospital and handed a bag full of clothes to Lily.

“You’re a little smaller than my wife,” he said, “but at least it will give you something until you get home.”

After Lily thanked him, Adams looked at Jack and said, “So? Are you ready to go for a ride?”

“I feel good. Let’s do it.”

After promising Lily he would be back to pick her up before noon, Jack left with Adams.

On their way to the airport, Adams said, “Slater never returned to our side of the border yesterday.”

“I’m not surprised. I don’t think the cartel would have taken too kindly to him saying I was his cousin and he has known me all his life.”

“Maybe we could send a request over to Detective Sanchez to investigate his disappearance,” chuckled Adams.

Jack smiled. “I’m sure Sanchez knows the right people.”

Minutes later, Jack and Adams taxied onto the runway in a U.S. Customs plane. By first light, they were flying along the border within easy sight of the radio tower on the Mexican side.

“You owe me a beer for making me hang and bake on that son of a bitch,” said Adams.

“I’m surprised you could climb it with all the guns you carry.”

It didn’t take long before Jack spotted Casa Blanca. There were no vehicles visible in the yard or on the surrounding hills.

The plane circled over three potential houses on the American side of the border. Two of the houses had vehicles in the yard. The third house didn’t.

Jack and Adams looked at each other and silently nodded in agreement.

The plane was taxiing back up to the private hangar when Adams received word that entry teams were preparing to hit the houses on each side of the border simultaneously. Each team also had a representative from the opposite country.

“We’ve been invited to watch,” said Adams. “You’re the guest of honour. They want you there to give the signal for the teams to go in.”

“Uh, thanks for the honour, but tell them not to wait for me,” said Jack. “The places will be empty.” Well … except for maybe two bodies at Casa Blanca …

“They know, but it will take them that long to get the warrant. They’ll wait for you, regardless. Everyone thinks you’re a hero. Go out and act like one. You’re in my country, it’s the American thing to do.”

“Will I be expected to shoot a gun off or something?”

“Hell, yeah! Did you bring your camera? Maybe we could even stage a car chase.”

“Had enough of that yesterday.”

Their one-hour drive out to the American side of the tunnel was strangely quiet. Both men knew it would be the last day they would work together and each dealt with the sadness quietly.

When they arrived, Jack was taken inside the back of a SWAT command-post truck where he was handed the police microphone and given the nod. Jack grinned at Adams as he squeezed the button and said, “Teams ready?”

“Team one ready,” drawled a voice in response.

“Team two are ready,” came a second voice.

“Go, go, go!” yelled Jack.

The initial results on the American side were as expected. The house had been cleaned out, but a tunnel entrance was located under a kitchen counter like the one in Casa Blanca.

Casa Blanca itself was a different story and the SWAT commander relayed the information as he received it over his headset.

“They’ve got six bodies over there,” said the commander.

“Six?” replied Jack.

“Five in the kitchen were lined up against a wall and taken out with one or more automatic weapons. Another body is in a back bedroom.”

“Have they identified them?” asked Adams.

The commander nodded and said, “Just getting to that. Of the five in the kitchen, three were known members of the Guajardo cartel. Sanchez … who they say was a cop, Eduardo Cortez, and a guy they call Berto. The other two are unidentified.”

“There were two mercenaries hired to work as security,” replied Jack. “Berto told me they were from South America, but I never got their names. Bet it’s them.”

“You gotta be kidding,” exclaimed the commander into his microphone. He looked at Adams and Jack and said, “The body in the bedroom is another cartel member by the name of Pietro Franco who goes by the nickname of El Pero. He was found half naked and someone literally put a round up his ass. No powder burns so it must have been real up close and personal.”

“Yeah, Jack said someone was shot in a bedroom,” replied Adams, while staring at Jack. “I just didn’t hear the part about it was up his ass.”

“Hang on, there’s another one,” continued the commander. “They found a seventh body at the bottom of the ladder in the tunnel. They say it looks like someone chewed the guy’s nose off and threw him headfirst down the shaft. Probably has a broken neck.”

“Let me guess,” said Adams. “Was it Alphonse Franco? More commonly known as Big Al?”

“Yup. How did you know?”

“Just a lucky guess,” replied Adams, looking at Jack.

“Hang on, someone else has something,” said the commander.

As they waited a moment, Adams leaned over and whispered in Jack’s ear. “Hope you used dental floss after.”

Jack looked surprised at the comment, then a look of concern came over his face, and he shook his head in denial.

“Okay,” said the commander. “Doesn’t look like we can give you guys a tour of the tunnel. The bastards have it booby-trapped with plastic. We’ll probably blow it up ourselves rather than risk anyone’s life by trying to dismantle it.”

Both Jack and Adams voiced their agreement and stepped out of the command vehicle.

“Looks like the Guajardo cartel didn’t appreciate some of their guys letting you escape yesterday,” said Adams.

“Looks that way.”

“You want to hang around and see them blow the tunnel?”

“Not really. I’m hoping to catch an afternoon flight.”

“I’m still supposed to take you back to the office. The bosses want to shake your hand and congratulate you before you go.”

“Politics.”

“You got it.”

Adams unlocked the Camaro and seconds later, they started the one-hour trip back to El Paso.

“Guess you’ll be glad to get home,” noted Adams.

“You wouldn’t believe how bad,” said Jack sombrely. “I want to go home and give my wife and kid the biggest hug I ever have. I didn’t have time to get into all the details with you yesterday, but after Big Al handcuffed me to a pipe, he had El Pero give me a shot with a cattle prod while asking me some personal questions.”

“Like the names of the guys you work with? Their home addresses, names of their relatives … and your wife and kid’s names?”

“Exactly,” said Jack in surprise. “How did you know?”

“Those are some of the same questions they asked my last partner when they grabbed and tortured him. I told you about him. He ended up quitting because of it.”

“You told me he was tortured. I didn’t know they were going after his family.”

“Yeah, well … they were.”

“That’s … that’s … I mean, you can’t let them get away with that!” said Jack vehemently. “Once that starts happening we’ve all lost. No cop will do their job.”

“Tell that to our friend across the border.”

“Okay. Very few cops will do their job. But you must know what I mean? You’re a street cop. Front line. Not some desk jockey who doesn’t understand.”

“Oh, I understand alright. Believe me, I understand,” said Adams.

Jack looked at Adams’s face. Earlier he had thought his friend was simply tired. But there was more to it. His face was haggard and dark sacks of skin hung from eyes which were now twitching. Something more than lack of sleep was troubling him and Jack could see he was trying to decide whether to tell him something.

Jack remained silent, not wanting to press him. If he wants to tell me something, he will. If not, that’s his choice …

And then Adams talked. The words started to spill out of him, picking up speed as he went. “Remember when we had coffee at your hotel the morning after you went to the whore house with Big Al? When I told you I was in deep shit?”

“Yes, but you said you didn’t want to talk about it because we needed to focus on what we were doing.”

Adams took a deep breath and let out a long sigh and said, “Well, I’ll tell you about it now. You know Rafael Guajardo heads the cartel?”

“Yes … and below him are the Carrillo Fuentes brothers.”

“Right, but below them comes three lower bosses, who also happen to be brothers. One of them, a guy by the name of Chico, took part in my partner’s kidnapping.”

Something about the tone of Adams’s voice gave Jack an indication about where the conversation was going.

Jack suddenly understood something. Something that floated in the back of his mind from the first day he met Adams.

This car … Adams is the junior guy, but he always gets the best car …

“I grabbed Chico outside a bar in El Paso and —”

“Man, this is a great car!” exclaimed Jack. “Stereo, air conditioning —”

“I’m trying to tell you something,” said Adams, looking hurt that Jack would interrupt him when he was talking about something so serious.

Jack gestured to his mouth with his fingers and pointed at the air vents on the dash.

Adams frowned and continued, “So I grabbed him and took him about fifty miles out into the desert and —”

“I always wondered why you got the nice car,” said Jack loudly.

“Jack,” pleaded Adams, “I’m trying to —”

“Remember when I commented on it? I know where I come from the bosses scoop the best cars, but you always end up with this one. Wow,” added Jack sarcastically, “you sure are a lucky guy. The bosses must think you’re pretty special.”

Adams stared at Jack as his mind processed the conversation.

Jack made the gesture again of putting his fingers to his lips, as though he was pulling the words out and tossing them into the air vents on the dash.

A look of absolute shock came over Adams’ face when he realized what Jack was telling him.

“Sorry to interrupt,” said Jack, “but I have to take a leak. Mind pulling over?”

Adams looked dumbfounded, but nodded and mumbled, “Me, too,” as he pulled over to the side of the highway.

Once Jack and Adams took a short stroll away from the car, Jack said, “The problem with being a good cop is learning to live with your conscience … especially doing our type of work. You’re always questioning whether or not you’re doing the right thing.”

“Yeah, I agree with you there,” mumbled Adams, still looking dazed.

“Maybe that’s what differentiates a good cop from a bad one. Sometimes we make mistakes and have to learn to live with what we did. That’s the problem with being human.”

“What are you really trying to tell me?” asked Adams.

“Well, to start with, I’m telling you I think you are a hell of a good cop. I’m really going to miss working with you.”

“Thanks,” mumbled Adams, glancing back at the car, wondering if Jack’s fear was simply paranoia.

“You and me think … and act much alike,” continued Jack. “Our job is also filled with secrets. Some secrets if known could get someone killed … or sent to jail. I have done things I felt were morally right, but a court of law would not agree.”

“Like yesterday?”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“That pisses me off.”

“What does?” Jack asked.

“Okay, I know five of the bodies they found in Casa Blanca were knocked off by the cartel because they fucked up. Probably means good news for you, because they took the retribution out on them.”

“I’m happy with that. So what’s your point?”

“My point is I thought you and I were friends,” said Adams.

“I think we are.”

“Friends trust each other … but you obviously don’t trust me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“You didn’t see the look we both gave you yesterday in the car when you said some guy killed El Pero?”

“No … guess I was busy consoling Lily,” said Jack, frowning.

“There is no goddamned way any of the cartel guys at Casa Blanca, with the exception of Big Al, would have ever picked a fight with El Pero.”

“We spoke about that last night. Maybe it was someone else’s relative.”

“Bullshit. El Pero was too high up. Even Big Al wouldn’t give him shit in front of the guys. So for you to say somebody argued with El Pero about whose turn it was to rape Lily is absolute crap. Then to say the guy went in and shot him after is ludicrous. At first I was thinking you didn’t want Lily to know … and that makes sense. I presume she didn’t see you or had her eyes closed or something?”

“Do your bosses think its bullshit?” asked Jack, avoiding Adams’s question.

“They’re desk jockeys. They don’t know squat. That’s not the point. Let me finish. Now I learn Big Al was found at the bottom of the shaft with a broken neck and his nose bitten off … there is no fucking way his guys would do that.”

“You sound pissed off about it.”

“Yeah, I’m pissed off!” said Adams. “Not over him being dead. I’m pissed off at you. With everything we have been through, I thought you would trust me enough to tell me the truth.”

“Listen … I’d trust you with my life … but that doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you something you don’t need to know just to try and ease my conscience. Sure, sometimes I would like to confide in someone. Maybe get their assurance that whatever I did was the right thing.”

“So why don’t you? I was about to do that with you.”

“And look what might have happened. Does it really matter if someone else agrees or not?” said Jack. “You have your own conscience and have to live with what you did. Confiding in someone might give you temporary relief, but it’s the rest of your life you have to deal with. In the long run, having told someone else will give you one more thing to worry about. It is also a burden for the person you told. Keep in mind what Al Capone once said: ‘Two can keep a secret if one is dead.’”

Adams looked up at the sky, then sighed and looked around at the landscape, avoiding Jack’s intense stare as he thought about what had been said. He then focused his gaze on the Camaro and his face darkened. Without warning, he scooped up a rock and threw it as hard as he could and swore as the rock bounced off the car fender.

“Feel better?” asked Jack.

“No, I should have shot it,” replied Adams.

“It would be the American thing to do.”

Adams stared hard at Jack a moment, then grinned. “Don’t give me that shit. If you had a gun you would probably put a slug up the muffler and then chew off the radiator hose and push it over a cliff.”

Jack smiled in response and said, “We each have our own style.”

Adams put his hand on Jack’s shoulder and said, “Guess I’m not pissed at you. What you say makes sense. I think I’m pissed off at the world we live in. Don’t know who the good guys are anymore.”

“In my books, I’m talking to one of the good guys,” replied Jack.

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Let me give you a hug … or are you afraid that will ruin your two-gun-packing macho image?”

“Only if you keep your underwear on and promise not to tell anyone. Otherwise I’ll be forced to shoot ya.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” replied Jack.

Adams followed Jack into the main office and saw the open door into Davidson’s office. Inside, District Attorney White was standing and talking to Davidson, who was sitting behind his desk.

What’s he doing here again? Am I being arrested?

Then Adams saw Weber and the other two bosses were also in the office talking. By the looks on their faces, he knew they were angry.

Jack also saw them and as he approached, Davidson spotted him and gestured at him with his hand. The others turned and looked at Jack and their faces displayed a combination of anger and pure hatred. As Jack neared, Weber stepped forward and slammed the door in his face.

Jack shrugged and returned to where Adams stood.“I suddenly feel like I’m persona non grata right now. Gee, I wonder why?”

Adams didn’t reply, but stared at the closed door with his mouth gaped open. Seconds later, his body trembled as he gazed around the office. Up until this moment, he still had some doubts that his car had been bugged. He didn’t want to believe he was really considered a bad guy. Now he had no doubt.

As he looked at his colleagues sitting at their desks, he felt like he was in no man’s land, with enemies on both sides. Family was the only thing he had left and all he wanted to do was go home and hug his wife.

“I thought I felt alone before,” mumbled Adams, “but it was nothing compared to how I feel now. Are you done? I want to get the hell away from these guys.”

“I’m done.”

As they were heading for the door, three men were sitting in the general office talking in hushed tones to each other. One looked up at them and said, “Hang on a sec.” He gave a furtive glance toward Davidson’s office, before rushing into Weber’s empty office, only to return a moment later and hand Jack a desk ornament. It was a small U.S. Customs and Immigration flag attached to a small plastic pole and stand.

“The guys … me …” the man started to say to Jack, but glanced at Adams and mumbled apologetically, “We didn’t know, uh, until a few minutes ago that they,” he nodded toward Davidson’s office and continued, “uh, that they were doing what they were doing.” He looked at Jack. “We wanted to give you something,” he added solemnly, before turning on his heel and returning to the others.

When Jack and Adams stepped outside, Jack waved the flag in front of Adams’s face and said, “Looks to me like you might not be alone as much as you think.”

chapter forty-seven

It was Friday afternoon in Vancouver when Miguel and Ramiro parked their car beside a car wash. They were immediately met by two members of Satans Wrath, who directed them into the public washroom. Neither Miguel nor Ramiro protested when they were then searched for weapons and any electronic listening devices. After that, they were taken for a ride in a van being driven by one of the bikers.

Lance strolled with Damien through Stanley Park and each man was enjoying an ice-cream cone when Lance received a message on his BlackBerry.

“Seems our two Mexicans have picked up heat today,” said Lance.

“Which means the police knew them all along,” said Damien.

“Also means Taggart is probably dead and the cops don’t give a shit if we see them or not,” replied Lance.

“Looks that way.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Tell them to bring the two taco boys over. We’ll have to take some precautions, but I want to hear what they’ve got to say. We’re also going to have to prepare them for the amount of heat that will be coming down on them. Make sure they don’t do anything stupid like popping off wives and kids.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Miguel and Ramiro met with Damien and Lance on the beach at Stanley Park. Their backs were to a seawall that rose above head level and they stood amongst a cluster of sun-bleached driftwood logs strewn on the beach.

Several members of Satans Wrath patrolled nearby to ensure none of the police who had been following would be in a position to monitor any conversation.

Damien was not a man who was shocked easily, but even his mouth hung open in stunned silence as he listened to what Miguel had to say.

“You mean to tell me you let him escape?” he said, flabbergasted.

“Not me,” Miguel hastened to say. “The men in the house.”

“Let me get this right,” said Damien. “You beat him unconscious, strip him naked, handcuff him to a pipe, torture him, threaten his family, and then …” Damien paused, rolling his eyes at Lance, before turning back to Miguel, “and then you let him escape?”

“Yes, that is what happened.”

Damien glanced at Lance who shook his head and muttered, “I can’t believe it.”

Damien turned his attention back to Miguel. “Do you just think he might have been a little pissed off?”

“A little pissed off?”

“Do you recall me telling you Taggart was … make that is, a very dangerous man and to kill him immediately?”

“Yes, but —”

“But what?” snarled Damien.

“That was not my decision. It was Big Al who made that decision.”

“And this house … let me get this correct,” said Damien facetiously, “you said was out in the desert, surrounded by professional soldiers with trained commandos inside.”

“Yes.”

“And not only did he escape, but first he shoved a gun up El Pero’s ass and shot him, then bit Big Al’s nose off, broke his arms, threw him down a shaft, and broke his neck?”

“Yes … it is very sad about Big Al. They even said from the blood Big Al coughed up, it looked like his ribs had been broken, which punctured his lungs, as well.”

“Yeah, it sounds to me like Taggart was a little pissed off,” said Lance.

Miguel saw the sarcastic look on Damien’s face and squirmed his back against the protruding end of a driftwood log before adding, “But I have a new boss, so everything is okay now. We are still interested in doing business with you.”

“Do you believe me now that Taggart is a dangerous man?” asked Damien.

“Yes, of course.”

“Think about what he did to El Pero and Big Al for asking questions about his family.”

“What do you mean?” asked Miguel.

“Could you imagine what someone like Taggart would do if you had actually harmed his family?”

“Well … I —”

“Then you brought a parade of policemen with you when you went to meet my guys at the car wash. Did it occur to you the police might wonder what part I had in Taggart being tortured and the questions asked?”

“Yes, that is unfortunate,” replied Miguel looking around, “but I am sure the police cannot hear us.”

“I don’t think you’re hearing me.”

“No, it is windy … and these birds are very noisy, but it is okay, I can still hear you.”

Damien looked at Lance, who shook his head in disbelief.

“So what can I tell my new boss?” asked Miguel. “Are you interested in going into business with us?”

Damien glanced at the seagulls squawking around them and smiled and said, “I’ll tell you what, wait here and I will confer with my colleague for a minute before giving you an answer.”

As soon as Lance and Damien walked up the stairs to the top of the seawall, Damien said, “Find out where the closest cops are.”

Lance walked over to another member of Satans Wrath and returned a moment later and said, “The young couple who are sitting on the park bench down from us.”

“The ones holding hands, looking like they’re on their honeymoon?”

“Yup. They were both in a white Ford Taurus and followed the guys all the way from the car wash to here. At least two other cars were involved, as well.”

Constables Helen Fraser and Darcy Cummings both sat on the park bench. It was Helen who first suspected their little charade wasn’t working.

“Crap, I think we’ve been burned,” she said. “Damien is pointing right at us and it looks like he’s coming over.”

“Be cool,” cautioned Darcy. “He’s probably only guessing and trying to see what our response is.”

“Hello, officers,” said Damien with a smile as he approached. “Make any busts under the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act yet today?”

“I’m sorry,” said Darcy, looking confused. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

“Then let me explain it more clearly and help you out,” replied Damien. “The two Mexicans you were following this morning in your white Ford Taurus … you know, the two guys who led you to Wet Willy’s Car wash?”

Neither Helen nor Darcy answered.

“Well as it turns out,” continued Damien, “they wanted to see me. I had met them for the first time yesterday when they came uninvited to one of our clubhouses. They say they want to go into business with me.”

“Uh, we don’t, uh know what you’re —”

“Forget it, Darcy, he knows,” interjected Helen.

“Thank you,” said Damien. “Now, they are both waiting for my answer as to whether we should go into business together.”

“And what business would that be?” asked Helen.

“There is some confusion on that issue. All I know is it was a business agreement that Corporal Jack Taggart of your Intelligence Unit was trying to arrange. You can ask him about it.”

“I see,” replied Helen, “but as things stand, do you think you might be going into business with them?”

Damien glanced back at the seawall and saw where Lance was standing watching him. Lance gave him a nod and Damien turned back to Helen and Darcy and said, “You’ll find the answer to that on the other side of that wall.”

“We will?” asked Helen.

As Damien turned to walk away he said, “Oh, one more thing. Tell Taggart if he wishes to remain above ground, not to pretend he belongs to our club ever again.”

Helen and Darcy looked at each other a moment, then hurried over to the seawall and looked down.

“Oh, Christ,” muttered Helen. “Call an ambulance.”

chapter forty-eight

The flight Jack and Lily took back to Vancouver went as scheduled and Jack used the time to prepare his report. They cleared customs at the Vancouver International Airport Friday night.

Jack was acutely aware of the psychologist’s recommendation about keeping Lily’s ordeal away from the media. He knew the reunification between Lily and her mom would be an emotionally charged event that could draw unwanted attention, so he had made arrangements to drive her directly home to her mother instead.

Jack and Lily were greeted at the airport by Natasha and Mikey. After a quick introduction and hugs, they drove Lily home.

Upon arrival at the house, Jack saw the tree in the front yard was adorned with a large yellow ribbon. He had not yet shut the engine off when Lily burst from the car and ran to hug her mom, who appeared on the porch in her wheelchair. Marcie, standing under a “welcome home” banner strung over the door, anxiously waited for her own hug.

Jack was right in his prediction about it being an emotionally charged moment. The only one who didn’t have tears in their eyes was Mikey, who remained asleep in his car seat.

Monday morning saw Jack back at the office. He gave a copy of his undercover notes to his boss, Staff Sergeant Rose Wood, along with his report. She read them carefully while he sat across from her desk.

“Basically what you said when you called me Friday afternoon,” she said, leaning back in her chair and nodding at the report.

“That’s about all there is to say,” said Jack, gesturing to the report.

“All there is to say? I think not,” she said firmly.

“Oh?”

“It goes without saying I’m pleased everything turned out okay, but why the hell didn’t you call me before Friday? You went into Mexico totally on your own, without authorization and without so much as even a phone call to me or anyone else to get permission.”

“Three reasons,” replied Jack. “First of all, there wasn’t time to sit and wait for Ottawa to make a decision … and even if they did make it in time and give authorization, policy dictates the police in Mexico would have to be informed. That would have jeopardized both Lily’s life and my own.”

“You might be right, but Ottawa will still be furious. You could be facing disciplinary action.”

“I feel what I did was right.”

“There is no moral servitude in Ottawa. They dance to what the politicians want, no matter the cost. If they think you upset some Mexican politician they’ll land on you with both feet.”

“I’m aware of that, but nothing they could do to me would take away how good I felt Saturday night when I brought Lily home. Let them take their best shot — it was worth it.”

“What were your other two reasons for not seeking permission?”

“If I called you and gave you the details, you would have come to the same conclusion about Ottawa as I did, leaving you with two choices. Tell me I couldn’t go, knowing Lily would die because of it, or give me permission to go on your own and risk both Lily and myself being murdered … which really would have put you in hot water.”

“I would have given you permission. I know you would have gone anyway,” said Rose.

“I know. That was the third reason. You would have been in trouble from Ottawa for something I was going to do, anyway.”

Rose drummed her fingers on her desk for a moment. “I don’t need you to judge what is in my best interest. Should something like this ever occur again, let me make that call.”

“Will do. Is that all?”

“No, it is not all. Besides the fact you went into Mexico without authorization, I have no idea what Ottawa or Isaac will think of all this,” she said, gesturing to Jack’s notes and his report. “You’re basically saying you went down there, found the girl, and escaped with her when the bad guys were fighting amongst themselves.”

“Timing was fortunate,” replied Jack, being careful not to use the word coincidence, which had been used all too often in his past investigations.

“Then the next day the police discover there are a total of seven bodies. Was that all good timing … what the hell … a coincidence, too?”

“No, that was not a coincidence. Five of those men were killed by the cartel for letting me escape.”

“I see. So it is only two out of seven who died coincidentally with you being there?”

“Uh, yes, I guess you could say that, although I understand Clive Slater is missing. I am sure he was killed, as well.”

Rose sighed and flipped through Jack’s notes again before looking up. “You said you were clubbed over the head, stripped naked, handcuffed … and Big Al was going to ask you questions about colleagues and … family,” she noted, putting the emphasis on the last word.

“Correct.”

“You were then poked with a cattle prod by El Pero and passed out.”

“Correct.”

“And when you regained consciousness and were picking the lock on the handcuffs, El Pero was actually in the act of raping Lily.”

“I believe so. That’s when I saw another guy going —”

Rose’s face hardened. “Stop it right there!” she snapped. “Don’t you ever —” She paused, and after letting out a deep breath and regaining her composure, she said, “I think I’ve got a clear enough picture of what happened, despite my belief there are certain omissions in your report and your notes.” She stared hard at Jack. “What? No acting surprised? No look of concern followed by denials?”

“I had the distinct feeling you didn’t want me to lie to you.”

“Good. I hope we understand each other. Who knows, maybe someday you will trust me enough to tell me exactly what those omissions were.”

“I should put you in touch with Special Agent Adams on that issue.”

“Oh? Would he be more forthcoming?”

“On the contrary. He almost got in trouble for telling a friend something.”

“I see,” replied Wood with a frown. “Well at least I know you had nothing to do with Miguel and Ramiro.”

“Who are they?”

“Two Mexicans from the auto body shop here in Vancouver. The same shop where they took Slater’s truck, just before you left to go to El Paso. On Friday, the narcs followed them to Stanley Park and saw them meet Damien.”

“When I was being tortured, Big Al said, thanks to me, they were thinking of going into business with Satans Wrath.”

“Guess the business proposal the Mexicans offered wasn’t accepted. After the bikers left, the narcs found both Miguel and Ramiro in bad need of medical attention. They’re both still in hospital.”

“Did the Mexicans identify who did it?”

“No, they’re not that stupid.”

“Guess I should thank Damien.”

“He had a message for you, too. He said if you want to stay above ground, never to use his club like that again.”

“Yes, I figured he was irritated when he told Big Al to kill me.”

“I want you to go home for a couple of days. I’ll have the secretary type up your UC notes and forward them with the report. Ottawa won’t be happy you didn’t get permission, but I’ll do what I can to support you.”

“Thank you,” replied Jack, getting up.

“There is one more thing,” said Rose, “about your torture … the cattle prod … were you prodded where I suspect they would have prodded you?”

“Yes.”

“Explains why you passed out.”

“I’m glad I did.”

“Any long-term bad effects?”

Jack grinned and said, “The boys seemed to work fine last night. The only thing I wonder about is if I father another child, will it have really curly hair?”

chapter forty-nine

On Wednesday morning, Assistant Commissioner Isaac received a call from the commissioner in Ottawa, who skipped any pleasantries and immediately asked, “What are you doing about Taggart?”

“In what way?” asked Isaac.

“In what way? That is the question. I’d like him charged with a criminal offence.”

“A criminal offence? Are you questioning the validity of his report in regards to the seven bodies found at the house in Mexico?”

“No, not that, but I appreciate your thinking. I’ve already looked into it. Our liaison officer in Mexico City was contacted by a police commander in Juarez. One of his own detectives was one of the seven bodies they found. The commander wanted to thank us for the work we did in identifying the corrupt officer and also for finding the tunnel.”

“He wasn’t upset to find out a Canadian policeman had gone there without authorization?”

“Apparently not. The commander said he understood there were some tight time restraints and a life was at risk. Anyway, our L.O. asked him about the victim who was shot anally and the other victim who died of multiple injuries. The commander said it happens all the time where these guys get drunk and fight amongst themselves. Also the retribution on the other five men was predictable, considering the damage done to the cartel’s smuggling route.”

“So what criminal offence are you talking about in regard to Corporal Taggart?” asked the commissioner.

“Birds of a Feather. Taggart deliberately told the subject of a wiretap investigation there was a bug in the car. That is an offence. At lease it is in Canada. I’m sure it is in the U.S., as well.”

“Corporal Taggart was also targeted.”

“It doesn’t matter. Even if a criminal trips over a bug in his own house, it is a criminal offence for him to tell anyone else about it.”

“I don’t have any transcripts of the conversation that took place in regards to Birds of a Feather. Did Corporal Taggart actually tell Special Agent Adams there was an electronic eavesdropping device in the car?”

“Not in those words, but it was obvious he changed the conversation when Adams was about to tell him what he did.”

“That would hardly hold up in court.”

“That’s the problem. I said I would like him charged with a criminal offence, I didn’t say we could. You know Taggart … do you think we could get him to crack under interrogation or at least say something incriminatory?”

“I’m certain he wouldn’t. Look how it went with Birds of a Feather … and that was when he should have felt safe to talk openly.”

“This is really embarrassing. A national disgrace.”

“A national disgrace?”

“We sent Taggart down there for the purpose of helping the Americans catch their rogue agent. This was supposed to make us look good. Instead, this happens. They’re absolutely furious down there.”

“I thought the primary objective was to find the girl. Corporal Taggart did that,” Isaac said.

“That’s incidental. We didn’t even get any press on it. Right now the issue is Taggart. If we can’t charge him criminally, then at the very least, I sure as hell expect you to give him an official reprimand for his personnel file.”

“As you wish, but we still shouldn’t overlook that he did do an admirable job down there under extreme risk of his own personal safety.”

“Admirable job? What are you talking about? He went down there without authorization!”

“I don’t think Lily or her mother cares about that.”

“Who? Oh, them. That’s not the point. Besides, as far as rescuing the girl, Taggart simply got lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“It was a lucky coincidence for him that the Mexicans started fighting each other when he was rescuing the girl, or things might have turned out much differently. His overall stupidity and complete disregard for policy could have gotten them both killed.”

“There’s no doubt he placed himself at extreme risk.”

“You’re damn right he did. It was totally unacceptable. I have to go, but I want you to send me a copy of the official reprimand you put on his file.”

“Yes, sir.”

After Isaac hung up, he muttered, “Lucky coincidence?” and shook his head. His next telephone call was to Staff Sergeant Rose Wood, telling her he expected to see Corporal Taggart in his office first thing the following morning.

At eight-thirty Thursday morning, Jack entered Isaac’s secretary’s office and was told to go directly in.

Isaac sat behind his desk and with an angry nod, gestured to a chair across from his desk. After Jack sat down, Isaac said, “You went into Mexico without authorization … even after it was made totally clear in the operational plan that you were not to do so.”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“Did you even try to call anyone to gain permission?”

“No, sir, I did not.”

“Your behaviour was cavalier, irresponsible, and reckless. You not only risked your life, but the potential lives of other policemen who may have tried to save you because of the stunt you pulled.”

“Yes, sir.”

“What I am telling you is documented in writing before me. Sign it as acknowledgement you have read it, after which it will be placed on your personnel file.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Jack, taking the document and reading what he had been told verbally. He signed the bottom of the page and handed it back.

“That is all,” said Isaac. “Get out!”

As Jack was leaving the secretary’s outer office, her phone rang and she answered, then said, “Corporal Taggart, please wait a moment.” She spoke into the phone briefly and when she hung up she said, “The assistant commissioner wants you to go back in.”

Jack sighed and went back into the office as the secretary closed the door behind him.

Isaac immediately approached him with his hand extended and said, “Jack! Good to see you! I wanted to tell you I think you did a fantastic job down in Mexico,” he said, smiling.

Jack accepted the handshake as he tried to figure out what was happening.

“I was so pleased to find out you were able to rescue Lily Rae.”

“It made me happy as well, sir.”

“At immense personal risk to yourself, I might add. As a member of the force, I have to say … what you did makes me feel proud.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Isaac handed Jack a document off his desk and said, “I have written a letter expressing my views for the purpose of placing it on your personnel file.”

Jack read the letter and saw it was filled with accolades.

“Thank you, sir. I don’t know what to say.”

The smile disappeared from Isaac’s face and he lowered his voice and said, “I would suggest you say nothing … ever. There is one more thing I want you to know … and it is to be kept strictly between us.”

“Sir?”

“It was not my idea to send you to El Paso. That decision was made in Ottawa.”

Jack felt stunned. Up until this moment he had thought it was only a coincidence he had been paired up with Adams. This was no coincidence … they were after me, too …

“You look surprised,” noted Isaac. “Did you think it was a coincidence you were assigned with Special Agent Adams?”

“Yes, sir, I did.”

“You, of all people, shouldn’t believe in coincidences. I know I don’t.”

epilogue

On April 10th, Jack and Natasha announced the birth of their second son, Steven Thomas.

Drug lord Rafael Aguilar Guajardo was assassinated by his under-boss, Amado Carrillo Fuentes, two years after the author worked on assignment in Ciudad Juarez.

Amado Carrillo Fuentes then died under mysterious circumstances while undergoing plastic surgery four years after taking power. His brother, Vicente Carrillo Fuentes, took over as head of the cartel.

Three years after the author met with Jose Refugio Rubalcava in a back alley in Ciudad Juarez, U.S authorities checked an abandoned car parked on the Bridge of the Americas. In the trunk they discovered the bodies of Rubalcava and his two sons. The cartel left the bodies on the bridge as a sign they believed Rubalcava had been talking to the Americans too much.

Vicente Carrillo Fuentes has been charged with the murders, but despite a $5-million reward posted for his capture by the FBI and a $2-million award posted by the Mexican authorities, he remains a free man.

At the time of this book’s printing, Vicente Carrillo Fuentes continues to remain in charge of one of two major cartels locked in a vicious battle for control of the drug market in the region.

Within the last couple of years, the murder toll in Ciudad Juarez alone has surpassed six thousand. With the increasing appetite of Canadian and American cocaine users, financial support for the cartels is growing … as is the ever-increasing greed of the cartels.

The continued acts of violence and murder involving innocent citizens are also expanding geographically. Recently in the United States, it was discovered Mexican cartels have been paying teenagers on retainer to commit murders, including the assassination of U.S. law enforcement officers.

The cartels are currently viewing Canada like a beach hawker views a new tourist.

Anyone interested in further information concerning the murders of the Rubalcava family, Vicente Carrillo Fuentes, or the impact the cartels are having on Canada, can find it at the following websites:

Amarillo Globe News: http://amarillo.com/stories/2000/ 09/15/tex_cartel.shtml

Corpus Christi Caller-Times: http://www.caller2.com/ 2000/september/15/today/texas_me/4249.html

Denver Post: http://blogs.denverpost.com/captured/2011 /12/21/in-focus-mexico-drug-war-five-years-later/5151/

Toronto Star: www.thestar.com/article/642966

Wikipedia: http://wapedia.mobi/en/Vicente_Carrillo_Fuentes

Chapter One

Paul Jennings stood in the lobby of the Redbury Hotel, located at the corner of Hollywood and Vine in Los Angeles. It was eight o’clock at night and his office was hosting a Christmas party in a banquet room of the hotel.

The party was well underway, attended by a crowd of about fifty people. Most were enjoying themselves, but not all. Two of the people invited were there to work. They were both professional killers … hired to do what they do best.

Jennings grinned and adjusted the Santa cap on his head when Tom Donald entered the lobby. As Tom walked past the Christmas tree in the lobby their eyes met.

Tom did more than grin back. “What the hell?” he laughed, pointing a finger at Jennings, before giving him a hearty handshake that quickly turned into a hug.

“Maybe it does look a little silly,” said Jennings, adjusting the cap again as he stepped back.

“It’s not the cap I’m laughing at.” Tom chuckled. “I figure you’re probably wearing it so I won’t know you’re bald.” Tom gestured at Jennings with a wave of his hand and shook his head. “It’s seeing you in a suit and tie that looks so funny. I never thought I would see the day.”

“Yeah, I know. Guess I do look a little establishment.” Jennings smiled and patted his cap. “And yes, I am going a little bald, but not as bad as you.”

“Tell me about it,” said Tom.

“Man, it’s great to see you again,” Jennings said warmly. “I couldn’t believe it when you called last night. It was right out of the blue.”

“I was sitting in my hotel room and got to thinking about the old days. I wondered whether you were back to this neck of the woods. I checked the directory and there were only two Paul Jennings. You were the first one I tried.”

“I’m sure glad you did.” Both men exchanged smiles and Jennings said, “Come on, no use standing here. Let’s join the party. We can do our catching up there.”

“You sure they don’t mind me crashing the party? I didn’t know I was supposed to wear a suit and tie, let alone an elf’s hat.”

“Don’t worry about it. You look fine. I spoke to my boss and he said you’re more than welcome.”

“Tell him I appreciate it.”

“And I might be short, but I’m not an elf. It’s a Santa hat.”

“Is that what they told you?”

Moments later, Tom found himself in a room where people mingled while clutching drinks in one hand and balancing finger food on small plates in the other. By the noise level, he suspected many of them had started the festivities much earlier. A few of the partygoers had ties hanging out of their suit pockets. It looked like they were on leashes.

Jennings bustled through the crowd and soon returned with a Budweiser for Tom and a glass of white wine for himself.

“So what are you doing now?” asked Tom. “This crowd doesn’t strike me as being Greenpeace and they sure don’t look like musicians.”

Jennings grinned and said, “I was hired two months ago. You’re looking at the new CEO of Pacific Ethical Fund Consulting Services.”

“You’re kidding? What do you do with them?”

“I check out opportunities around the world for investment companies. For people who have a conscience about where they put their money.”

“What do you mean? What kind of conscience?”

“To make sure the companies they are thinking of investing with aren’t running child sweatshops or making weapons. Next week I’m off to Panama to check on a fruit company.”

Tom nodded as he rubbed his chin. “Sounds good, what you are doing. I didn’t know Wall Street cared about such things.”

“A lot of people do. The Internet has really helped educate people about what goes on around the world. It’s nice to live off your investments and enjoy your champagne and caviar, but not so nice if you know children are being killed because your money is building cluster bombs.”

“Good point.” Tom took a sip of beer as he studied his friend. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you would be involved in something like this. Last I heard about you was that you were marching down some street in Washington protesting the war in Iraq.”

Jennings looked sombre for a moment and said, “Yeah, shock and awe. What a bunch of crap that was. We should never have gone there. You Canadians were right to stay out of that mess.”

“I think so.” Tom gazed around the room and saw two men give a couple of furtive glances in his direction. He presumed it was because of how he was dressed and it made him feel self-conscious. The old sports jacket he was wearing was way out of date. Even when it was new, he would never have fit in with these people, who wore suits custom made by names like Hugo Boss, Gucci, and Prada.

Tom looked down at his well-worn shoes and subconsciously fidgeted with the keys in his pocket.

“You okay?” asked Jennings.

“I’m fine.” Tom took a sip of beer and glanced at Jennings and thought, He doesn’t belong here, either …

Tom’s glance didn’t go unnoticed. Jennings smiled and said, “Bet you never thought I would be hanging out with this kind of crowd, did ya?”

Tom grinned and said, “You read me like a book. That is exactly what I was thinking. These don’t seem like your type of people.”

“Yeah … guess I’ve changed,” admitted Jennings.

“Since when?”

“Since when we first met. Back in the old days at music college.”

Tom shook his head in disbelief. “We were just kids, but sometimes it feels like yesterday.”

“We were all living in that huge dorm down on La Brea.”

“How could I forget?” Tom nodded, smiling. “Right between Sunset and Hollywood Boulevards.”

“Figured it could never get better than that. Trying to live our dreams of becoming musicians,” added Jennings, wistfully.

“I have stayed in the music business,” said Tom. “I’m running a music studio in Vancouver. But what happened to you? Last time I saw you, you had picked up some hippie chick and were driving a beat-up VW van. Back then you were spending your time singing at protest marches.”

“That was more than a few years ago,” replied Jennings, shaking his head in wonder.

“At least you were following your dream of singing.”

Jennings smiled, patting Tom on the shoulder. “It so happens, I married that hippie chick. Her name is Anna and we have two kids. Fourteen-year-old Buddy and nine-year-old Peggy Sue.”

“Buddy and Peggy Sue!” Tom chuckled. “You always were a Buddy Holly fan. I think Peggy Sue was his top song. Guess it’s better than naming your kids Moon Beam or Star Dust or something.”

“Come on, I wasn’t ever that stoned.”

Tom glanced around the room. “Looking at this crowd, I expect you’re driving a BMW or a Lexus?”

“Naw. I traded in the van. Now I have a Toyota and a Ford pickup. Also own four acres of land north of the city. Even has orange trees.”

“White picket fence?”

Jennings smiled. “Not yet, but I’m working on it.” He stared at Tom for a moment and added, “Sure wish you could come and stay with us for a few days.”

“Maybe next time. My flight back to Vancouver is already booked. Next summer I’ll be down again. I’ll take you up on your offer then.”

“I’ll hold you to that, amigo. So enough about me. Tell me about yourself. Where did life take you? I see you’re wearing a wedding ring.”

“After touring with some bands for a few years, I ended up back in Vancouver running a music studio. My wife’s name is Diane and she is from Medicine Hat, Alberta. We have two sons, Tim and Tod, and a daughter, Jadine. Life is treating me good.”

“That’s great.” Jennings raised his glass of wine in a toast. “Me, too.”

Tom clinked his beer bottle on the glass and smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, although I still can’t believe you’re wearing a suit, let alone working for the establishment.”

“Well … hang on, that’s my boss across the room … Oskar Cruickshank. Looks like he’s headed our way.”

Tom glanced at the man approaching. Oskar was dressed like an executive who had been featured by Forbes magazine, complete with silk tie and gold cufflinks. His short black hair had only a trace of grey above his ears and Tom guessed him to be about forty years old.

“Oskar’s a good guy,” said Jennings. “He saw a lot more in me than some hippie strumming a guitar. He understood my passion to make this planet a better place.”

Tom saw two men following Oskar. “Who are the guys tagging along with him?”

“The heavy-set guy directly behind him is Ben Pike. He’s an ex-Marine and hired occasionally on contract for corporate security. I don’t know who the other guy is.”

Ben Pike was in his mid-thirties and had a muscular physique. He walked with the backs of his hands facing forward, reminding Tom of how a gorilla would walk. His red hair bristled in a brush-cut and he wore a cheap suit that should have made Tom feel better. Somehow it didn’t.

The third man, they would soon learn, was Oskar’s brother, Virgil. One glance told Tom that Virgil didn’t belong with this crowd, either. Virgil was ten years younger than his brother and had a shaved head and a one-carat diamond stud in his ear. He wore an open silk shirt to expose a heavy gold necklace. Tom didn’t have to be in the music business to know Virgil was into the drug scene.

Jennings introduced Oskar to Tom and Oskar gave a warm and friendly handshake, before introducing his brother Virgil and then Pike.

“Tom is one of your fellow Canucks,” said Jennings, as he glanced at Oskar.

“No kidding?” replied Oskar. He turned and smiled at Tom, then asked, “Where are you from?”

“I’m from Vancouver,” replied Tom. “I run a music studio there.”

“Good,” replied Oskar. “Vancouver is Virgil’s turf, but I hang my hat in Victoria when I go back.”

“I appreciate you letting me crash your party,” added Tom.

“Not a problem. My brother is crashing the party, too. Isn’t that right, Virgil?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What do you do in Vancouver?” asked Tom, giving Virgil a friendly smile.

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that. I’m an entrepreneur,” replied Virgil coldly, before turning his back to stare at a young woman across the room.

Tom felt the uncomfortable silence so he smiled and turned to Pike. “I hear you are an ex-Marine.”

“Yeah,” replied Pike, “while I was busy risking my life and losing friends in Iraq, your friend here was protesting and prancing around singing songs.” He scowled at Jennings and added, “Patriotic you’re not, isn’t that right?”

“I would not hesitate to fight to defend my own country,” said Jennings evenly, “but not to invade to make an oil grab in someone else’s country.”

“Oil? Bullshit! We invaded because of what those bastards did to us at 9/11! How come you weren’t protesting that?”

“Iraq had nothing to do with 9/11. You need to take a look at Saudi —”

“Gentlemen,” said Oskar sternly. “No more of that talk. It’s Christmas. We’re here to enjoy ourselves.”

Pike took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before saying, “You’re right, I’m sorry. Christmas is a tough time of year for me. I know too many who won’t ever be coming home to be with their wives and kids.”

“I understand,” replied Jennings, quietly.

“Apology accepted?” asked Pike, sticking out his hand.

Jennings shook his hand and said, “No problem. It’s what makes America great. Everyone is entitled to an opinion.”

“I understand you’re taking tomorrow off work,” said Oskar, looking at Jennings. “You taking your friend out on the town?”

“No, Tom has to get back to Vancouver. Tomorrow morning I’m hanging Christmas lights on the house while Anna takes the kids shopping. Then in the afternoon we’re going out to pick a Christmas tree.”

“Sounds nice,” replied Oskar. “Christmas should be the time for families.”

“It’s kind of a tradition with us,” said Jennings. “In the evening we decorate the tree and then sit in front of the fireplace singing carols and drinking eggnog. I’d invite you, but our singing is pretty awful.”

“That’s okay.” Oskar smiled. “My new girlfriend has invited me over for dinner. It will be interesting to see if she can cook.” He looked around at the crowd, then smiled apologetically and said, “Guess I should continue making the rounds. Have a merry Christmas.”

Once they were out of earshot, Tom asked, “You like Oskar?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know.” Tom shrugged. “Something doesn’t feel right. I wouldn’t trust them.”

“Them? You mean, Virgil. Yeah, don’t worry. He doesn’t have anything to do with the company. He’s only visiting Oskar.”

“Not only him,” replied Tom. “Oskar, too. Why would he be hanging out with a goon like Pike?”

“I told you, Pike is corporate security.”

“I doubt Oskar is in need of security tonight. Some of these people might get drunk, but they don’t look like the type to take a swing at anybody.”

“I don’t understand. What are you getting at?” asked Jennings.

Tom eyed Oskar across the room as he smiled and patted someone on the back. “I don’t know … your boss seems too smooth. Not your league.”

“Not my league? Tom, I’m not some kid trying to make a living strumming a guitar. I’ve grown up.”

“I know.”

“So what is it? Don’t tell me you’re jealous I’m in the big bucks? You know I never cared about that.”

“It’s not the money,” replied Tom, feeling hurt that Jennings would think that. “I’m glad you’re doing well. Maybe I’m just being cynical, thinking of that old story.”

“What old story?” asked Jennings.

“Where some environmentalist becomes such a pain in the ass, the oil companies hire them and give them a big salary to shut them up.”

“When have you ever known me to shut up?” said Jennings, grinning.

“Good point.” Tom smiled before becoming sombre again. “Still, I never pictured you as being welcomed by establishment, let alone accepting the offer.”

“It’s a chance to do some good for the planet and humanity both. I’ve got two kids. I want them to grow up in a safer and better world.”

“Don’t we all,” replied Tom, as his attention was diverted across the room. “And who is that fellow?” he asked, with a nod toward another man who was talking to Pike. “He looks pretty nasty, as well.”

“I think he’s supposed to look nasty,” said Jennings thoughtfully. “He’s Pike’s partner in corporate security. Goes by the nickname of Rabbit. Both of them are only hired on short term contracts to provide security on occasion.”

“Rabbit? You gotta be kidding. Sounds like a cartoon character.”

“Anything but,” said Jennings seriously. “He’s an ex-Marine as well.”

“Yeah? Why do they call him Rabbit?”

“You tell me,” smiled Jennings. “Take a look.”

Tom looked at Rabbit, who was walking over to the bar. As he walked, he tended to bounce off the toes of each foot, causing his head to bob slightly higher than normal. It gave the impression he was hopping. “Got it.” Tom snickered.

“Figured you would. You always were perceptive.”

“So tell me, why would a company like yours need to hire them? Seems to me, everyone should be happy with what you are doing.”

“Some of the places we go are a little dangerous. Third-world countries … slums. Places where if you’re white, it is automatically presumed you are rich. Actually, by the standards in those countries, we really are … which makes us prime targets for muggers or even kidnappers.”

“So those two goons are suppose to protect you?” asked Tom.

“They can handle themselves. Both of them have all sorts of black belts and used to instruct some sort of martial-arts program when they were with the Marines. Either one could snap your neck like a pretzel.”

“That’s comforting,” said Tom sarcastically. “Pike the Spike and Killer Rabbit.”

Jennings chuckled. “Those would be good nicknames for those two.”

Unfortunately, Jennings was about to find out how accurate the description was.

Chapter Two

It was ten o’clock the following morning when Tom strolled down Wilcox Avenue. On one side of the street were a row of bail bonds shops, while on the other side a row of police cruisers led up to the entrance to the Los Angeles Police Department.

Years earlier, Tom had known a few friends who were detectives working out of the building. Back then, he wasn’t adverse to passing on information about some of the real bad guys who were trying to get their talons into the music industry.

A phone call earlier told him one friend still remained. Brent Morgan had since been promoted from detective to captain and was happy to meet with his old acquaintance.

Morgan met Tom at the front counter and after the initial greeting, Morgan suggested he drive Tom someplace for coffee.

“Really good to see you again, Morgy,” said Tom, as he settled into the front seat of an unmarked police car.

“You too, Tom. It’s been a long time. Hearing your voice this morning really brought back some memories of the old days.” He glanced at Tom sideways and said, “Thought I would take you to the northwest corner of La Brea and Sunset.”

Tom reflected a moment, then smiled. “Tiny Naylor’s Drive-in. Where I used to meet you and the boys to pass on a little intel once in a while.”

“Glad to see your memory is still sharp. I sure miss those days when there was still some real glamour around here.”

“It has really changed,” replied Tom. “I hardly recognize it anymore.”

“You got that right. Remember how much you hated drug dealers and told me the dope situation would become more nasty and lethal as time went on?”

“I remember.”

“Well, you were right.” Morgan stopped at a traffic light and took the opportunity to eyeball Tom. “So tell me, I have the feeling this is more than a social visit. What’s up?”

“Well, maybe nothing. I’m worried about an old friend. Nobody you know.”

Tom then told Morgan about his friend, Paul Jennings, working for Oskar Cruickshank and expressed his concern that something didn’t seem right. He also told him about Virgil Cruickshank and Ben Pike. “After all these years, I hate to be coming to you right off the bat looking for a favour, but I was wondering if there was some way you could check these guys out?”

“You’ve done us a ton of favours in the past, glad I can finally do you one,” replied Morgan, reaching for his cellphone.

Before coffee was over, Tom had the information.

“You’re right about Virgil,” said Morgan. “He is a scumbag. Narcotics has info he is running meth down from Canada. Apparently low-level. They haven’t had time to work on him.”

“What about Oskar and Pike?”

“Nothing on Pike. Commercial Crimes Division made a few phone calls for us and from what they were told, Oskar is a straight shooter who is trying to keep the rich folks from investing in things that might upset their conscience.”

“Sounds like I was wrong to be suspicious about Oskar.”

Morgan took a sip of coffee and looked thoughtful before saying, “I think you’re losing your touch, Tom. Don’t ya know rich people don’t have a conscience?”

Tom knew Morgan was joking and both men grinned at each other.

“And as far as Virgil goes, he is just visiting,” added Morgan. “Seems to me like your worries are for naught.”

“I’m really glad to hear that,” replied Tom, breathing a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Morgy.”

Paul Jennings stood in his garage and waved goodbye to Buddy and Peggy Sue as Anna backed the car out of the driveway. Moments later, he placed his ladder up to the eaves and hauled out a box of Christmas lights.

He had barely started hanging the lights when Pike and Rabbit drove up. He gave them a wave and climbed down the ladder to greet them. “Merry Christmas! You guys have a good time last night?”

“It was nice,” replied Rabbit.

“What’s up?” asked Jennings. “I didn’t even know you knew where I lived.”

Pike smiled. “Oskar sent us to tell you that you are a tremendous asset to the corporation and we have something for you.”

“You’re not carrying a fruitcake, so tell me,” said Jennings, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice, “are you guys handing out Christmas bonuses?”

“Not exactly,” said Rabbit, before turning and smiling at Pike.

Jennings automatically diverted his attention and also smiled expectantly at Pike for an answer. The small distraction was what Rabbit had planned.

Jennings belched air from his lungs and doubled over when Rabbit’s fist drilled deep into his solar plexus. Rabbit was about to use the heel of his hand to ram Jennings chin upwards, while simultaneously delivering a blow with his other hand to the base of Jennings’s neck, but Pike shoved him out of the way.

“Don’t break his neck,” said Pike. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said, stepping behind Jennings and placing a chokehold on the carotid artery in his neck that left him only semiconscious.

“What gives?” asked Rabbit. “I thought we wanted to make it look like he fell off his ladder?”

“Too quick for this bastard. Take the ladder down and smash it through his front window while I hold him.”

Rabbit did as requested and stepped back.

Pike nodded to the shards of broken glass sticking up from the bottom of the windowsill. “Got the picture?”

Rabbit snickered. “Yeah, I got it. Messier, but I got it.”

Jennings coughed and sputtered when the chokehold was released, but had no time to protest, before Pike and Rabbit grabbed him by the arms and the back of his head and rammed his throat across a shard of broken glass.

Jennings flailed with his arms in a failed attempt to stop the attack, but all he did was cut his hands. When he was released, his bloody fingers clawed on the carpeting in a panicked attempt to pull himself inside the house to escape his attackers.

Pike and Rabbit knew Jennings’s severed jugular was fatal and simply stood back and watched. Seconds later, Jennings’s body collapsed across the window frame, leaving only his legs sticking outside.

Chapter Three

It was Buddy and Peggy Sue’s hysterical and terrified screams that caused Anna to drop the Christmas presents she was unloading from the car. She had no idea of the horrific atrocity awaiting her as she ran into the living room.

What the three of them saw was a spectacle that would imprint on their brains forever. It was like a horror movie that would play itself over and over again, when they were awake and when they were asleep.

The murder was classified as accidental. It was believed the ladder had fallen, perhaps when Jennings had yanked on a tangle of Christmas lights that were evident near the base of the ladder.

Eight years passed before two unrelated criminal acts in Canada provided the police with a clue as to what had really happened in Los Angeles.

In Surrey, British Columbia, Amanda Evans had dropped out of high school before completing her grade twelve to give birth to her daughter, Megan. Her boyfriend didn’t wait around to see the birth of his daughter, opting instead to leave when Amanda was six months’ pregnant.

Amanda had not seen or heard from him in the three years that had passed since then. Neither did she care to. During that time, Amanda had obtained a cashier’s position at a local grocery store and had also managed to obtain her diploma through adult education.

The second-floor apartment she rented was within walking distance of the grocery store where she worked. It was also close to the apartment of a friend by the name of Wendy, who was another cashier at the store. Wendy was also a single parent and the two women usually worked different shifts so they could babysit for each other.

It was the first Sunday in May when Amanda got off work and it was five o’clock at night when she picked up Megan and headed home. As usual, Megan wanted to climb through some large plastic tubes in a playground on the walk home.

Amanda groaned and rubbed the muscles in her lower back. She ached from standing on her feet all day. “Okay, sweetie,” she said, relenting.

Within a few minutes, Amanda forgot about the ache as she chased Megan, who giggled and shrieked with delight while scrambling through the plastic maze.

They played together for half an hour, totally unaware of a man watching them from a silver BMW 6 Series Cabriolet parked nearby.

“Come on, honey, time to go,” said Amanda.

“No … more, more. I want to play,” demanded Megan.

“Gotta get home and make dinner. You can help me cook. I’ll let you measure out the right amount of macaroni.”

Megan persisted. “But I want to play.”

“No, come on, take my hand.” Amanda pointed to a path leading away from the playground. “You can pretend you’re Dora the Explorer going through a forest.”

In reality the path wasn’t in a forest, but simply a shortcut leading past a few trees to an alley at the rear of a row of apartment complexes.

“Ah, my lovely, where do you think you’re going?” muttered the man, as he got out of the BMW to follow them.

Amanda and Megan soon entered their two-bedroom apartment and locked the door behind them. The air in the apartment was hot and stuffy. An elderly lady lived in the suite below and kept her thermostat set to the maximum. The floors weren’t thick and the heat permeated Amanda’s apartment.

In a way, Amanda thought it was good. She saved money because her own thermostat rarely needed to come on. When it was too hot, she remedied the situation by sliding open her balcony door overlooking the rear alley.

Dinner was uneventful. When the dishes were done, Amanda read to Megan for a while and put her to bed. At ten o’clock she watched some of the news on the CBC National, then went to bed herself.

It was after midnight when the intruder entered her bedroom while she was asleep. He took his clothes off quietly and stood for a moment at the end of her bed. The sight of Amanda’s head on her pillow aroused him. He put on a condom and moved closer.

Amanda awoke to the feel of a latex-gloved hand over her mouth and the sharp edge of a knife at her throat.

“Not a sound, my lovely, or you’re dead,” whispered the man, his hot, moist breath in her ear.

Amanda tasted the latex from the gloves and her eyes widened in fright. She lay rigid, afraid to move or utter a sound as he slowly removed his hand from her mouth, while pinning her to the bed with the knife on her throat. She felt him rip her pajama top open and heard the sound of one of her buttons bounce off the wall.

Amanda prayed she was having a nightmare. The only light in the room came from a streetlight in the back alley. In the shadows of her bedroom, she could not accurately make out the man’s face. It was an eerie white, as if he was wearing a Phantom of the Opera mask.

Chapter Four

It was the following Monday afternoon when Corporal Jack Taggart drove the black SUV along a backcountry road. Beside him sat his partner, Constable Laura Secord. In the back seat was Helen Reed, who was directing Jack on where to drive. They were slightly over an hour’s drive from Vancouver and southeast of the city of Abbotsford.

Jack, in his late thirties, was wearing blue jeans and a woollen plaid jacket, which hung open, revealing a black T-shirt. He had an athletic build and was currently sporting a black goatee and his hair was combed straight back. It gave him a look that could best be described as a sinister arrogance. For those who did not know him, they might presume he was a member of an outlaw motorcycle gang.

Laura, a few years younger, had long curly autumn-coloured hair and was also wearing jeans, along with a V-neck green T-shirt stretched across her stunning figure. She had a look of innocence about her, which led some to believe she was naive. She was anything but, especially since working with Jack. It was her appearance, coupled with a sharp mind, which had landed many criminals in jail.

Both Jack and Laura were trained undercover operatives with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and were assigned to an Intelligence Unit in Vancouver. Their primary objective was to dismantle or disrupt criminal empires. They did it primarily through working undercover, turning informants, and using wiretap information.

Helen Reed was their informant. She was living in a common-law relationship with a man by the name of David Peltier who was actively smuggling crystal meth into the United States. Peltier had a volatile and violent temper, as was evidenced by Helen’s frequent trips to obtain medical care. She had been treated for anything from a broken jaw to a broken arm.

The first time it happened, Peltier cried afterwards and begged forgiveness. He said it would never happen again. But of course it did. Peltier never cried anymore for what he did to her. He simply promised he would kill her if she ever tried to leave him.

It was a promise Helen knew he would keep, so she was always careful to go to different medical clinics for treatment. She knew if she only saw one doctor, it might raise questions as to how she could be so accident-prone.

A week ago she was still recovering from two black eyes and a broken nose when she parked her car at a shopping mall. That was when she met Jack Taggart. He didn’t look like a cop and at first she thought Peltier was pulling a prank. After seeing his identification and allowing him to buy her a coffee, she knew it was no prank.

Jack had been targeting her boyfriend and knew she was being beaten. He told her nobody deserved to be treated like that. He explained how men like Peltier work and how the women they prey on lose all self-confidence and worth until the psychological hold on them seems impossible to break.

Helen listened, but didn’t say a word … until he told her he had a way to get her out, if she would help him. He made a promise he would never disclose her identity to anyone except his partner. He also said he would not take any action against Peltier without consulting with her, to ensure her safety.

Earlier in the day, Jack introduced her to Laura and they were going to a drug drop-off location Helen knew about.

“This is it … yeah, Henderson Road, I had forgotten,” said Helen.

Jack drove along the road and saw that it ran parallel with the United States border, which was directly beside them. The road was well treed on both sides and there was no traffic.

“There! That’s it,” said Helen, pointing to a tree with a broken top. “I let him out here at about two in the morning, then swing back two hours later and pick him up.”

“So actually it will be early Thursday morning when you let him out,” confirmed Laura.

“I guess. It’s Wednesday night when we go to the storage locker. Gotta get it before it closes, but after that … yeah, very early Thursday morning if you want to get technical. At that time of night there’s no traffic around, so if he sees anyone, he’ll know there’s heat.”

“How often do you make the trip?” asked Laura.

“About once a month on average. I’ve done it four times so far.”

“Do you do any dry runs?” asked Jack.

“Like stash it in a ditch someplace and then come here to see if the cops are waiting? So if they grab us here at the border, we ain’t got nothing?”

“Exactly.”

“Naw, we ain’t never done that,” replied Helen. “Talked about doing that the first time, but we never did.”

“What about someone standing six?” persisted Jack.

“He could have a lookout, but I’m not sure. I’ve never seen anyone. He does get a call on his cellphone before we come out, but then he gets a lot of calls, so I don’t really know.”

“Any idea on how much meth he’ll be packing across?” asked Laura.

“Not for sure, but I’m thinking at least twenty keys. I could ask, but I think he would tell me it’s none of my business and probably give me a smack.”

“Don’t do anything to jeopardize yourself,” said Jack.

“All I know is that right now it’s in the storage locker, but he is supposed to hang on to it until Wednesday night to make the delivery.”

“Why the wait?” asked Jack.

“I dunno. Somethin’ to do with the Americans getting their shit together.”

“Will it only be you and him in the car?” asked Laura. “What about the Big V guy you mentioned?”

“I told Jack earlier, I’ve never met the Big V and got no idea who he is. My old man once mentioned he was off to see the Big V. At the time I knew he was going to meet who he worked for, so that’s how I come up with that name.”

“Would sure be nice to find out who he is,” said Laura, glancing at Jack.

“Maybe if you don’t pop him Wednesday night and give it a bit more time, you could find out,” said Helen. “Can’t you like, get a bug on his phone or somethin’?”

“Getting a bug is a lot harder than most people realize,” said Jack. “Besides, in my books, busting some dope dealer isn’t worth the risk of you getting another beating. We’re not waiting. The asshole is going down.”

Helen nodded silently. She believed Jack would protect her from the first time she met him, but she felt even more assured. She sensed he was a man who kept his promise. “My old man’s been busted before,” noted Helen. “Last time he was sentenced to six years and was out after one.”

“That was in B.C.,” said Jack. “This time he’ll be grabbed in the U.S. Even if he didn’t already have a record, he’d be in for a minimum of ten years. I bet he gets more than that now.”

“Gee, and I won’t be able to visit him because I got a record for dealing pot and can’t go to the U.S.” Helen said, smiling.

On Wednesday afternoon, Amanda Evans left Megan with Wendy and went with her brother, Burt, to her apartment. Once they arrived, they quickly walked through the apartment, but Amanda remained in the living room when Burt went into her bedroom.

Amanda found herself staring at the open doorway to her bedroom. Images, sounds, and smells returned. His white face leering down at her. The smell of his sweaty body … the taste of latex and the sharp edge of the knife on her throat when she cried out in pain.

Now, three days after the attack, Amanda began to gasp and hyperventilate. Panic riddled her brain like acid as she fought the urge to run from the apartment.

Her rent was paid until the end of the month, but she could not bring herself to stay. Wendy only had a two-bedroom apartment, but willingly provided Amanda with a cot in her room while the children slept in the other room. The arrangement was only temporary. Amanda had found a new place she could move into tomorrow.

Amanda never told her parents what had happened and made her brother swear he wouldn’t, either. Their dad was in poor health and she was afraid what effect it would have on him. It was a secret that was even more difficult to keep when her mother, after hearing about the attack on the news, had called to warn her to be careful.

“Yeah, this will be a piece of cake,” said Burt, as he walked out of the bedroom and glanced around. “I’ll be here at eight tomorrow morning with the U-Haul. Three of the guys said they would give me a hand. If you and I box up the small stuff today, I bet we will be done by noon tomorrow.”

“This will be costing your friends money.” Amanda frowned.

“Naw, it won’t. The boss man said if we’re back to the construction site by noon, he won’t even dock us any pay. Don’t worry about that crap. Everyone is happy to help out.”

Amanda fought back the tears as she glanced again at the entrance to her bedroom, while subconsciously putting her hand to her throat. She had cried and begged him to let her go. It only seemed to excite him further. He prodded her with the knife and said he would kill her if she yelled. Her pleading had woken Megan who came in and, sensing her mother’s anguish, started crying herself.

Megan’s presence did nothing to deter the rapist. He mocked Megan and made obscene comments about what he was doing to Mommy, telling her Mommy only pretended to cry and that she really liked it.

It seemed so surreal. The man’s face was white and eerie, like a ghost. The knife had a serrated edge on the back of the blade and the rapist liked the added terror it brought when he slowly scrapped the knife across the spindles on her headboard, making a grating sound.

At the time she wondered if the grating sound would be the sound her vertebrae would make if he sawed through her throat. Fear had totally overwhelmed her and she had readily given in to his demands to accommodate his desires. She wanted it to be over and for him to be gone. She now knew it would never be over.

It was eleven o’clock Wednesday night when Jack and Laura walked along Henderson Road. They had parked their SUV a short distance away, inside the entrance to some farmland where it was hidden from sight amongst the scrub brush.

“There’s the broken treetop,” observed Jack. “Time to find a place to hide.”

Minutes later, they hid in the forest on the north side of the road. They did not want to hide on the south side in case Peltier stumbled upon them when he walked into the U.S.

Both Jack and Laura were equipped with flashlights and portable radios, but once hidden, they kept the flashlights turned off and used earpieces so the radios could not be heard.

Unlike undercover operatives on a drug section, who testified in court on a regular basis, members of the Intelligence Unit seldom went to court. Particularly the few members of the Intelligence Unit who were actually trained undercover operatives.

By not appearing in court, it allowed them to mingle with organized-crime figures while keeping their true identity hidden. On occasion, it also provided protection for those informants who had vouched for their credibility.

Generally, once members of the Intelligence Unit had gathered enough information, they would turn it over to the appropriate police units to further the investigation and make arrests.

This investigation was no different. Members from the Vancouver RCMP Drug Section, or narcs, as drug section members were commonly called, were also present. Due to the scarcity of vehicles in the area, the narcs, who also had a member of the Canada Border Services Agency riding with them, stayed about a ten-minute drive away.

Jack had provided them with the minimum amount of information they needed to fulfil their task. He was always extremely protective of his informants and for this investigation, only Laura knew who it really was.

The plan was to have Peltier arrested in the United States. For that purpose, a team of U.S. Drug Enforcement Agents had taken up a position on their side of the border. They intended to arrest Peltier when he met with his U.S. contact.

Earlier in the day, other Vancouver Drug Section members had been told to do surveillance on David Peltier. They were told he was expected to have a girlfriend drive him to a storage locker to retrieve multiple kilos of crystal meth for delivery tonight.

So far, the narcs reported that Peltier and a woman who was driving his black Ford Mustang had made the trip to the storage locker. After, they were followed to Abbotsford where they were seen stopping at a restaurant and ordering coffee.

At one o’clock in the morning, Jack and Laura saw a car approaching. The area had been completely void of traffic for the last two hours, so their interest was piqued when a car slowly went past.

“What do you think?” whispered Laura. “The bars are shutting down, so it could be someone coming home … or is it someone checking out the area?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” said Jack as he stood behind a tree and adjusted his binoculars. “If I can get a plate maybe it will tell us if it’s local.” Jack strained his eyes as he slowly focused the dial on the binoculars. “It’s a silver BMW. Cabriolet model, I believe. Can’t make out the plate.”

The BMW continued on and once more Henderson Road was engulfed in darkness. At one-thirty in the morning, the narcs reported that the couple had left the restaurant and were driving in their direction.

Half an hour later, the Mustang arrived and stopped where it was expected to stop. The passenger door opened, turning on the car’s interior light. Jack saw Peltier go to the trunk and get a large backpack before giving Helen a thumbs-up signal and closing the car door. As Helen drove off, Peltier hurried down off the road toward the United States.

Jack used his cellphone to whisper an alert to the U.S. agents and then used his portable police radio to alert the others.

“Want us to grab the woman in the car?” radioed one of the narcs.

“No, make sure Peltier is grabbed in the U.S. before doing anything. As far as the woman goes, wait until she comes back to pick up Peltier, then arrest her.”

“I doubt dropping someone off and picking them up will be enough to convict.”

“I agree with you there,” replied Jack, “but it should be enough to hold her overnight. Maybe she will confess.”

“Copy that.”

“Confess?” whispered Laura.

“I told her to demand a lawyer immediately,” replied Jack. “No worries.”

Silence descended upon the area until quarter to three when the sound of a gunshot was heard in the distance, coming from the U.S. side of the border.

“What did they do, shoot him?” asked Laura.

Before Jack could respond, a crashing through the bush across the road and slightly down from them caught their attention.

“Oh man, a bear …” said Laura.

“Isn’t a bear,” said Jack, lowering the binoculars. “It’s a man and he’s hotfooting it down the road away from us. Come on, let’s get ’em!”

Jack and Laura scrambled out onto the road and chased after the man, who had about a thirty-second lead on them. The distance was narrowing until the man looked back and realized he was being pursued.

Jack and Laura turned on their flashlights and continued the chase. Jack’s phone vibrated as he ran and he took the call. It was from the DEA who told him Peltier, along with an American, were both in custody. The American had reached for a handgun in his belt, but changed his mind when one of the agents fired a warning shot.

“Great, no time to talk further,” panted Jack. “Got a runner we’re chasing on foot.”

“Coming our way?” asked the DEA agent.

“Not yet. He’s on the road parallel to the border … no, he just veered off northbound into the trees. Gotta go!”

Jack and Laura were only about fifteen seconds behind the man from where he took off into the forest, but fifteen seconds can be a long time when it’s dark and you’re amongst a mixture of heavy bush and trees.

They followed the noise the man was making for a few seconds, but then it got quiet.

“He’s laid down someplace,” whispered Jack.

“What about back-up or canine?” suggested Laura.

“Will take too long. He has to be close. I have an idea.”

The man crouched behind a tree, desperately trying to control his panting. He watched as the two flashlight beams cut through the darkness and could hear a woman’s voice talking to her partner. He waited until they were a good thirty seconds past him before standing up and quietly making his way back toward the road. He had only taken a few steps when a man loomed up in front of him and stuck a Smith & Wesson 9mm semi-automatic pistol in his face.

Chapter Five

Laura, who was simulating two people walking by holding her arms outstretched from her sides with a flashlight in each hand, heard Jack yell for her to return. She stopped the one-sided conversation she had been having and headed back. When she arrived, she saw Jack standing over a man who was lying on the ground with his hands cuffed behind his back.

Laura watched as Jack got the man to his feet. He had a shaved head with a large diamond stud in one ear. She guessed him to be in his early thirties. They marched him back out to the road and Jack then took the man’s wallet and checked his driver’s licence.

“Virgil Cruickshank,” said Jack, smiling at Laura.

Laura smiled back. Virgil was in all probability the Big V who was Peltier’s boss.

“What’s more,” said Jack, hauling a set of car keys out of Virgil’s pocket, “is we have keys to a BMW. A silver BMW I bet,” he added, while staring at Virgil.

“Big deal, I like to go for a walk at night in the forest,” said Virgil. “Brings me back to nature. You don’t have any grounds to arrest me for anything.”

“Where’s your car, Virgil?” asked Jack.

“Hidden in some bushes about a ten-minute walk down the road.”

“Hidden?” replied Laura.

“Can’t be too careful when you go for a walk,” sneered Virgil. “Could be criminals out this time of night. Which is why I ran from you guys.”

Twenty minutes later, Virgil sat handcuffed in the back of the SUV. He was being guarded by Laura while Jack searched the BMW.

Jack found a booklet in the glove box that contained maps of the lower mainland. He checked it to see if there were any marks to indicate areas of interest along the border. There weren’t, including the area they were in. He did notice one oddity: five of the pages in the booklet had the page number crossed off, not in sequence, but between four and five pages apart. He made a notation in his notebook of the general locations on the map of each page that had been crossed off. He then put the booklet back and searched the trunk. Under the spare tire he found a scabbard that held a large jungle knife with a serrated back.

Jack returned to the SUV. “Hey, Virgil, mind telling me what you use this for?” he asked, sliding the knife out of the scabbard.

“Yeah, no problem. I like to go camping. Like I said, I enjoy nature. Now, if you are going to arrest me, then do so and let me call my lawyer. Otherwise, let me go.”

“Laura, step out for a minute, there’s something we need to discuss,” said Jack, shoving the knife back into its sheath and sticking it into his belt.

“What now?” asked Laura quietly, when she got out of the SUV and closed the door. “Is the knife all you found?”

“He did have a map booklet with a few page numbers crossed off, but nothing to do with the border areas.”

“We’ll never get a conviction without something more than him being in the area. Even if we get phone records … it won’t be enough.”

“I know,” replied Jack.

“Peltier was careful enough not to store any dope at his house,” noted Laura. She gestured with her thumb toward Virgil. “He’s even farther up the chain than Peltier. You can bet we won’t get much from searching his place, either.”

“I agree, but he doesn’t know how much we know.” Jack eyed Virgil, who was sneering at them from the SUV. “He’s putting on a tough act, but you can bet his ass is puckered. Let’s try and turn him.”

“Pull a bluff?” asked Laura

“You got it.”

Jack opened the door to the back of the SUV and grabbed Virgil by the arm and hauled him out.

“You letting me go?” said Virgil, optimistically.

“No, you’re going down for drug trafficking,” said Jack.

“Drug trafficking? That’s bullshit!” said Virgil, giving a fake laugh. “You got nothing on me. Go ahead, throw me in the slammer for the night. I’ll be out by morning.”

“Boy, do you have that wrong,” said Jack. “Any idea how much time you’re going to get for masterminding shipments of meth into the U.S.? Your buddy Peltier is looking at a minimum of ten years if he cooperates, which of course he will. But he was only a courier. You’re looking at double what he will get.”

“There’s no way,” replied Virgil, not sounding as confident as he did earlier. “Am I supposed to know Peltier?”

“You would be surprised at what we have,” said Jack. “And the judges in the U.S. aren’t quite as gullible or lenient as the ones up here.”

“The U.S.?” Virgil asked.

“Guess you’re not familiar with how much time you serve in the U.S. when you co-operate versus when you don’t. Your contacts down there will be fighting with each other to be the first to rat. You being caught watching the deal go down is icing on the cake.”

“Watching what?” Virgil protested. “Like I said, I was out for a walk. I like owls and try to see them at night. If you’re saying some criminals got caught in the States, well, they’re criminals. Who would believe what they say? Like I said, you don’t have the grounds to arrest me, let alone get me deported.”

“Yeah, yeah,” replied Jack. “Come on, we need to walk down the road.”

“Where ya taking me?”

“Someone else will be taking you to jail,” replied Jack.

Minutes later, Virgil looked more apprehensive when they turned off the road and crossed the ditch toward the U.S. border.

“Now what are you doing?” Virgil demanded.

“Just a sec,” said Jack. “I was talking to the DEA when I was chasing you. They don’t know I’ve caught you yet.”

Jack walked a short distance away and pretended to use his phone. “Yeah, listen, the guy I’m chasing just entered the U.S. He’s right in front of me. I could have him within ten seconds if I jump the border. Want me to grab him and hold him for you? … Got it.” Jack looked at Laura as he put his phone away and said, “Permission granted!”

“What the fuck! You can’t do that! I’m a Canadian on Canadian soil. This is Canada,” Virgil said, stomping his foot on the ground for emphasis.

“You’re confused,” said Jack. “You obviously got turned around in the dark when you tried to elude us. Isn’t that right, Laura?”

“Oh, for sure. If you listen close, the wind in the trees even sounds like it is saying, y’all.”

“You might want to brush up on your American jailhouse slang,” said Jack. “Things like, ‘Yo’ bitch, I drop da soap. Y’all bend over and pick it up for Papa.’”

“You … you can’t do this,” pleaded Virgil taking a step backwards.

“Can and we will,” said Jack, while placing a simple wrist-lock on Virgil’s wrist with which even a slight amount of pressure brought him enough pain to rise to his tip-toes. “Now, be a good boy and keep walking south.”

“No, please …” said Virgil, trying to push backwards. After emitting a yelp of pain he stopped resisting.

“I guess there is one thing that could save your sorry ass,” said Jack gruffly. “I do hate giving the Yanks all the glory. Do you know someone more worthy than you that we could bust in Canada?”

“What do you mean?” asked Virgil. “Are you saying you won’t bust me if I give you someone?”

“That’s what I’m saying. But you would have to come clean with us on everything. Whoever you give us has to be a lot bigger than you. Not some peon you have running a lab somewhere. I’m talking big.”

“Oh fuck,” mumbled Virgil as his brain reeled over what he should do.

“Don’t have all night,” said Jack.

“I know some guys … but if they ever found out …”

“I promise, if you are completely straight with us, we will never burn you and your identity will be kept secret.”

“So you’re not asking me to testify or something?”

“No, not if you don’t want to,” said Jack. “As long as we catch who we’re after.”

“We would need to know everything about what you have been doing,” said Laura.

“Everything?” replied Virgil.

“As long as you’re being straight with us, we don’t care what you are up to, as long as the end result is putting a bigger fish in jail,” said Jack.

“But then you would bust me,” replied Virgil.

Jack shook his head. “Any criminal acts you have done up to now, you can tell us about and we won’t bust you for them or turn you in, but at the same time, you won’t have immunity if you are caught by some other cop. We both work for an Intelligence Unit. Knowing how things work … different trends, is important to us. It is also crucial to coming up with a plan.”

“A plan for what?”

“A plan to prevent you from being identified if we bust someone you give us.”

Virgil’s expression said he liked that idea.

“Any future criminal activity some organization might expect you to do would have to be cleared through us first,” continued Jack. “This is strictly between the three of us. What can you give us?”

“I … I’m not sure where to start. How to get you the proof.”

“Let us worry about that,” said Jack. “Right now any conversation is off the record. Start by telling us how many kilos of meth were delivered tonight.”

Virgil swallowed and said, “Twenty-eight.”

“And how many altogether so far this year?” prodded Jack.

“Ah … I’m not sure. About twenty or thirty keys a month so … this is May … so maybe about a hundred and twenty-five counting tonight.”

“Simple math,” said Jack. “Who can you give us that deals in, say two-hundred and fifty kilos in about the same amount of time?”

“It isn’t that simple,” said Virgil.

“You must know other dealers who are bigger than you,” said Laura.

“Not really,” whined Virgil. “I stay independent from the gangs. Figure it’s safer. From them and from you guys.”

“Too bad,” said Jack. “Guess we may as well keep walking south.”

“But I know about something else,” said Virgil quickly.

“I’m listening,” replied Jack.

Virgil paused, hesitant to talk until Jack grabbed him by the shoulder and gave him a shove to start walking again. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I know about some murders. Isn’t that more important than running meth?”

“Maybe … maybe not,” replied Jack. “Thought you said you weren’t into the gangs. What are we talking? Is it related to all these gang shootings we’ve been having?”

“No, no. Nothing to do with that. I’m talking straight dudes being killed for money by some guys.”

“Straight dudes?” questioned Laura.

“Yeah, yeah. Citizens.”

“Exactly how many murders are we talking about?” asked Jack.

“Five so far and three more are planned.”

“Over how long of a time frame?” asked Jack.

“Uh … gotta think. I’m not a hundred percent certain, but I think it started about eight years ago. It was Christmastime, I remember that.”

“And you’re saying the victims had nothing to do with criminal matters?” said Laura.

“No, I told you. These are straight dudes. Some were married and had kids. They were chumps.” Virgil looked at Jack and said, “If I tell you who is doing it, is that enough?”

“Not if I don’t get the evidence to charge them,” said Jack. “I need to hear more. I want details so I can get proof and know you’re being straight with me. Give me the names of the victims so I can at least check out the murders to know what you’re telling me isn’t complete bullshit.”

Virgil sighed and said, “I don’t know their names. I only met the first guy … and that was eight years ago at a hotel in Los Angeles. I don’t even remember his name, but what I am telling you is the truth.”

“These are American murders?” asked Jack.

“I was told three of the chumps were American, one was British, and one Canadian.”

“One Canadian?” queried Jack.

Virgil nodded. “A guy from Vancouver. Out of the next three planned, at least two of them will be Canadian, as well. The murders were all made to look accidental so there wouldn’t be much of an investigation.”

“This sounds like a load of crap,” said Laura. “Come on, Jack. Make him move faster for wasting our time.”

“It is true! I swear,” pleaded Virgil. His eyes filled with tears. “It is true, it’s just … I don’t know how you could prove it. I am only going by what I was told, but I know the guy who told me was telling the truth.”

“Maybe you think it is true,” said Jack, “but what if it was some goof trying to impress you? The whole story might be bullshit.”

“No way. I know him really well. In fact, I could maybe find out who their next victim is going to be. If you watch the guy, you will see he dies of something within a month or two after I point him out to you.”

“You’ll probably kill him yourself,” said Jack.

“No way! If you’re watching the guy, you would catch who kills him.”

Jack stared at Laura for a moment and shook his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t necessarily believe Virgil, it was because Virgil actually thought they would let someone be murdered.

Laura looked at Jack and gestured with her hands. What do we do?

“We need some form of credibility from you,” said Jack, stabbing a finger into Virgil’s chest. “What drug stash can you give us immediately? Something as a gesture of good faith.”

“I don’t have any,” blubbered Virgil. “Everything I had went across the border tonight. I need, like two or three weeks, then you’ll know I’m telling you the truth. I could find out who the next victim is. Then when he dies you would have your proof. Just hold off a bit from, uh, deporting me tonight.”

“If what you are saying is true, a murder investigation could take months or longer. How do we know you won’t use the time to run off to Venezuela or something?” said Jack.

“I won’t.”

“You need to give us something,” said Jack. “We need credibility to know you are not lying to us before we let you go. I don’t even care if … I don’t know, maybe one night you killed someone who was your competition. Anything. Something we can verify to know you’re being straight with us and then we’ll let you go.”

Virgil swallowed and looked closely at Jack and said, “You said you wouldn’t bust me for something I did, or tell any other cops … as long as I was giving you something more important … right?”

“That’s what I said! Quit screwin’ around. Out with it.”

“So, like some guys who have murdered five people and plan on doing three more is pretty important, right?”

“Yes, it would be important if it was true,” said Jack in exasperation.

“Okay then … so those murders would trump … say, a rape, right?”

Jack felt the bile erupt into the back of his throat as his stomach tensed in anticipation of what he knew he was about to hear.

Chapter Six

Amanda awoke and saw a figure moving toward her in the darkened bedroom. She screamed while hysterically pushing herself backward on the cot.

“Amanda!” yelled Wendy. “It’s me!” she added, while frantically clawing at the wall to turn on the light switch.

“Oh, God,” sobbed Amanda, covering her eyes with her hands. “I was asleep and woke up. I thought —”

“I’m sorry,” cried Wendy. “I heard one of the kids and went to check. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Mommy!” cried out Megan, running into the room and leaping on the cot to hug her mother. “Is the bad man back?” she asked, looking around in panic.

“No, sweetie,” replied Amanda, holding Megan tight while trying to get her own body to stop shaking.

“What’s wrong, Mommy?”

Amanda kissed Megan on the cheeks several times before using the corner of a sheet to wipe the tears from Megan’s eyes. “I was having a bad dream. Everything is okay.”

“Were you dreaming about the bad man?”

“No, honey. Forget about the bad man. Everything is okay.”

“What were you dreaming about?” persisted Megan.

“A real scary movie. I shouldn’t have watched it. That’s why I don’t let you watch certain shows.”

Tears streamed down Wendy’s own face as she watched. She felt sickened by the commotion she had caused and knew it would be a long time, if ever, before Amanda or Megan recovered from the horror they had endured.

Does murder trump rape? Jack’s brain felt numb as he questioned his own values. Can I go along with this? In his heart he knew if Virgil was telling the truth, then solving five murders and preventing the murders of three more innocent people left no doubt as to the decision he should make.

Virgil was intently focused on Jack’s face and did not see the dark scowl cross Laura’s face, but Jack did. To come down hard on Virgil would shut him up. He knew he had to act fast, or it would scare Virgil off from talking.

Jack cleared his throat and did his best to look calm and sound nonchalant. “Oh, yeah, for sure. Sexual assault is a far cry from murdering people.”

Virgil smiled. He felt like he was in control of the situation and decided to exert some confidence. “So I got your word?” he demanded. “The both of you?” he said, looking back and forth at them. “I tell you about something I did as credibility to prove I’m being straight and then we’ve got a deal?”

Jack saw Laura looking at him for a response. Her expression was solemn, her face ashen. For a moment, Jack wrestled with his conscience. Am I doing the right thing?

“Well?” asked Virgil.

“You’ve got my word,” sighed Jack. “We will keep this between the three of us and we won’t disclose anything to anyone to burn you. Our primary objective is to catch the murderers, if they exist.”

“Oh, they exist all right.”

“But like I said,” continued Jack, “you’re not immune if some other cop finds out what you did and you are not immune from any future criminal acts unless you have our approval.”

“Understood.” Virgil smiled. “And you, my lovely?” he asked, looking at Laura. “Do I have your word?”

Laura’s response was more of a deep-throated growl. She grabbed him by the throat while at the same time kicking him behind the knee and slamming him to the ground.

Virgil tried to cry out, but his Adam’s apple was being crushed by Laura’s grip and all he could do was emit a painful gurgle as she sat on top of him.

Jack placed a hand on Laura’s shoulder, but she ignored it and leaned down so her face was almost touching Virgil’s as he squirmed his head in the dirt in an attempt to break her grasp. “I am not your lovely,” snarled Laura. “You will treat me with respect! And yes, you pathetic little man, you have my word.” With that, she released her grip and stood up.

Virgil gagged and coughed for a moment, then lay there panting as he stared up at Laura.

“Get up,” said Jack. “You’re not hurt.”

Virgil rolled over onto his knees and staggered to his feet. He glared at Laura as he regained his balance. “You can’t do that!” He stopped, before coughing out some more words. “I was being honest with you guys! I want my lawyer! I’m not saying another fucking word!”

“We gave you our word we will not burn you,” said Jack. “Under the circumstances, it is the best option you have.”

“Yeah, right,” replied Virgil sarcastically. “If I say something, you two will turn me in.”

“Virgil,” said Jack, shaking his head. “We haven’t given you your rights. Anything you tell us, give us, or show us would be inadmissible in court. Also, we gave you our word.”

“Yeah? What about her word?” demanded Virgil, with a nod of his head toward Laura. “You saw what she did to me. What good is her fucking word?”

“She did that because she is angry. Angry that she will keep her word, even for a lowlife like yourself. If she was going to turn you in, she wouldn’t feel so angry.”

“I don’t know …”

“Quit procrastinating and start talking,” snapped Jack. “Otherwise I’ll let her take you into the woods while I hold back to make a phone call. After what you hinted at, I have a strong feeling she will be coming back out alone.”

“She couldn’t get away with that!”

“Really?” sneered Jack. “I can see her statement. She took your cuffs off to let you pee. That’s when you tried to grab her gun …”

Virgil looked nervously at Laura who did not blink as she gave him a cold, hard stare. Within seconds, Virgil’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, where do I begin?”

“Tell us about the rape first,” said Jack. “Who and where?”

“I don’t know her name,” said Virgil. “It was last Sunday. I don’t know her address, other than it’s in Surrey. I could take you to the place.”

“The one in the newspaper?” said Jack. “Where the reporters are speculating that the assault is linked to other rapes?”

“Yeah. I did others, too, but one should be enough for credibility.”

“Agreed, but I want details,” demanded Jack. “Something not in the papers.”

“Her place was on the second floor. I was able to stand on the railing of the balcony below and climbed up onto her balcony. She had left the balcony door —”

“The papers said entry was gained through the balcony,” said Laura.

“Yeah, well, I did a couple of things the papers didn’t say.”

“Such as?” asked Jack.

“I wore a condom. I didn’t want her to get pregnant or anything.”

“Bullshit, you wore it because you were afraid of leaving DNA,” said Jack, sarcastically.

“Yeah, well, that, too.”

“You ever lie to me about anything and the deal is off, do you understand!” said Jack, vehemently.

Virgil stared at the ground and nodded.

“What else did you do?” demanded Jack.

“Well, I kind of rattled my knife a bit on her headboard, just to tease her.”

“The papers said it was a man with a knife,” said Jack. “What else? You said a couple of things.”

Virgil swallowed and said, “Well … before I went in her room I was in the kitchen. In the past I always wore a ski mask, but I saw a container of flour on the counter so I uh, took the mask off and put flour all over my face. I was already hot and sweaty from climbing up the balcony, so the flour stuck.”

“Why did you do that?” asked Laura.

“I don’t know. I thought it would be neat. I always keep the light off, but I knew this would stand out.”

“That’s weird,” commented Laura.

Virgil gazed as though he was in a trance and said, “Imagine waking up in the middle of the night in your own bed and seeing a white face lookin’ down at ya …”

You’re a very sick bastard, thought Jack.

Virgil snapped out of his vision and turned his attention back to Laura and said, “Guess I did it for fun, to see how freaked out she would get.”

“You’re the freak,” muttered Laura, taking a step forward.

Jack stepped in between and looked at Virgil and said, “That is probably enough detail.”

“Yeah? So now what?” replied Virgil.

Jack grabbed him by the arm, propelling him around, and said, “We’ll go back to our vehicles and you can tell us about the murders. Then I want you to show me where this last rape victim lives. After that, I’ll read the investigative file to verify you’re telling us the truth. If you are, I’ll cut you loose.”

Once back to the SUV, Jack took the scabbard with the knife from his belt and shoved it in the glove box.

“You keepin’ it?” asked Virgil.

“For the moment,” replied Jack, as he placed Virgil in the back seat and sat beside him while Laura sat in the front.

“Let’s hear it,” said Jack. “Tell us about these murders.”

“Okay,” said Virgil, sitting back in his seat a little farther when Laura turned to watch him. “The guys who are doing the murders, well, one of ’em is my brother.”

“Your brother!” repeated Laura, shocked that he would turn in a family member.

“Yeah, Oskar.” He’s more of a high roller than me. He’s president of a company.”

“He owns a company?” asked Jack, for clarification.

“Yup. Actually he has been the president of several companies. He keeps changing the company names. Usually his companies are based out of Los Angeles, but he also works in Canada.”

“What kind of company?” asked Jack, making notes.

“An investment-type company. I don’t even know the current name, but it would be easy for me to find out. His company checks out something he calls ethical funds for other companies to invest in.”

“And who is being murdered?” asked Jack.

“Guys who work for his company.”

“You’re telling me he is killing his own employees?” said Jack. “Why?”

“For the insurance.”

“He insures his employees?” asked Laura.

“Some of them. I guess for corporations it isn’t uncommon. Once they go through head-hunter companies and the rest of the process to hire someone, they often take out a life-insurance policy on them.”

Laura looked at Jack and showed her skeptisim by raising on eyebrow.

“I have heard of it,” replied Jack. “I think it is properly called key executive coverage. In theory, it is designed to provide financial interm assistance to a company that might suffer a loss if a key employee were to die. It has also been called dead peasants insurance after it was found out some companies do it like gambling, hoping to make money off their employees’ lives. ”

Virgil leaned forward to ease the pressure on his handcuffed wrists and added, “You sure as hell won’t get me signing any life insurance policies.” After squirming in his seat, he leaned back again. “Anyway, then they whack the guys to make it look like an accident and collect the insurance. Pretty simple really.” Virgil paused, then muttered, “Probably better than runnin’ meth around the country.”

“Who, besides Oskar, kills these guys?” asked Jack.

“Oskar doesn’t do the dirty work himself. He only hires the right chump for his company. They got other guys who do the dirty work. Professionals who were specially trained in the military. They’re not with the company. My brother told me another guy he knows is the brains behind it. It’s that guy who sends the hitters in to do the job.”

“Who does Oskar work for?” asked Jack. “I thought you said he owned the company.”

“He does. The other guy isn’t with Oskar’s company. He is only Oskar’s boss when it comes to doing the murders. He’s the guy who came up with the idea and orchestrates the hits.”

“So who is this guy?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know. I’ve never met him. I did hear my brother call him one time. I think he called him Mr. Merlin or Mr. Marlin. Something like that. It was years ago, so I’m not too sure.”

“You said your brother did work in Canada, too,” said Laura. “Are you talking Vancouver?”

“Clients more than anything. He doesn’t have an office here. It’s a pretty small operation. Only a few people who work out of an office in L.A. Mostly secretaries. The others are legit and don’t know what is going on.”

“I take it your brother doesn’t hang around with the same kind of people as you do,” said Jack.

“That’s for sure. He mingles with a lot of high rollers from all over the world. People who got money to invest. Whacking people for insurance is sort of a sideline. Maybe it’s to help get them through these bad economic times.”

“Where is Oskar now?” asked Jack.

He lives on his sailboat, so he is kind of mobile. Sometimes he lives on it in L.A. and other times he stays in Victoria at a marina across from The Empress Hotel.”

“Where is he now?”

“Last I heard, he had left L.A. and was supposed to arrive at the Victoria marina sometime today.”

“Do you know the name of his boat?”

“Yeah, he calls it the Corporate Asset.”

“And you said they plan on committing three more murders?”

“That’s what Oskar said. Then he said he’s going to retire. He’s hoping to sell his company off to some older guy he knows who already has a similar company. Oskar told me that by Christmas, he will be sitting under a palm tree on some beach and enjoying the good life.”

“You said you met the first victim. When and where?” asked Jack.

“That was like, I don’t know. Eight or nine years ago at some hotel in Los Angeles. I don’t even remember the chump’s name. It was at a Christmas party Oskar’s company was putting on. He told me later the guy I had met would be dead before Christmas.”

“Can you remember what the victim looked like?” asked Laura.

“No, not really. I think he was wearing a Santa’s cap, but that’s all I can remember.” Virgil looked at Jack and asked, “Do you think there’s a chance you wouldn’t need to bust Oskar and just go after the other guys?”

“Probably not,” replied Jack.

“Oh, well,” replied Virgil. “Guess that’s life. Better him than me.”

Their conversation was interrupted when the police radio crackled to report the woman who had dropped off Peltier earlier, was driving back into the area.

Jack grabbed the portable radio. “Copy that. It’s dark enough that you could put a guy in the bush where she dropped Peltier off and have him jump in the car. He’ll have her in cuffs before she realizes it isn’t who she expected.”

“Yeah, copy that. Will do. In case it doesn’t work, I’ll put a car down the road in front to stop her if she tries to bolt.”

When Jack put the portable radio down he looked at Virgil. “Who is it?”

“That would be his girlfriend, Helen. She doesn’t have much to do with anything. I’ve never even met her.”

“Yeah?” replied Jack. “You can’t convince me she didn’t know what was going on.”

“Oh, I’m not denying she didn’t know,” said Virgil.

Laura frowned at Jack. “Knowing what was going on as opposed to being convicted for what was going on, are a little different in court.”

“Yeah, I know,” sighed Jack. “Still, we got enough to toss her sorry ass in jail for the night to shake her up a little. Maybe she’ll confess.”

“Like I did,” mumbled Virgil.

“Your ass, we had,” lied Jack. “I’m going to tell the Americans you got away, but they would be pissed if they ever found out I had lied to them and cut a deal with you instead.”

Virgil nodded in agreement.

“Once Helen gets busted and everyone clears out, you’re going to show us where your last rape victim lives.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Virgil sighed. “What about my car? Will you let me drive?”

“No, Laura will follow us in it. The cuffs are staying on you for the time being.”

“Are they really necessary? They’re kind of uncomfortable,” complained Virgil.

“Yeah, Jack,” said Laura, “why don’t you take them off him? Maybe I’ll get lucky and he will try something.”

“Actually, I guess they’re not that bad,” quipped Virgil, bending forward and shaking the cuffs to adjust them on his wrists.

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. At the moment he thought it would be a simple matter to verify the woman’s address and check with the Major Crime Unit to ensure that Virgil was being truthful. If he was, Virgil would be cut free as promised.

Having determined a course of action, Jack’s stress level had dropped a little, although in the back of his mind he still questioned and hated the decision he had been forced to make.

Laura got in the BMW and Jack glanced at himself in the mirror as he got in the SUV to drive. He had been at work since noon the day before. His goatee already gave him somewhat of a menacing appearance, but now with being unshaven, exhausted, and chilled from being in the bush, he could see he really looked awful.

He blinked his eyes as he imagined going home soon to a long hot shower and a clean bed, but a glance in his rear-view mirror at Virgil brought back the promise he had made. He went over it again in his head.

Yes, I am doing the right thing. It is a simple matter of letting one criminal go to catch worse ones …

Jack was about to find out it was not a simple matter.

Chapter Seven

On Thursday morning at eight o’clock, Amanda and Megan arrived at her apartment complex, as her brother Burt backed a U-Haul truck up to the back door of the apartment building. A car with three of Burt’s friends parked in the alley.

“Sorry I couldn’t get a sitter,” apologized Amanda when Burt got out of the truck. “Wendy had to take her own kid to a doctor’s appointment this morning so I thought I should —”

“Are you kidding? I’m glad she’s here.” Burt looked at Megan and pointed to the truck and said, “There it is! This is the big truck your Uncle Burt is going to give you a ride in!”

Megan looked at the truck and her eyes widened with excitement. “That is a big truck!” she exclaimed. “And I’m going in it!” she squealed.

“You betcha!” said Burt. “But first we have to get it loaded.”

Everyone went inside the apartment at which time Amanda announced she had left the coffee pot out, along with a few mugs for everyone to use. After switching on the coffee pot, Amanda stepped into the living room.

“Hot and stuffy in here,” mumbled one of Burt’s friends, as he walked over and slid open the door to the balcony.

Amanda looked at the sliding door and her body started to tremble and she hugged Megan.

“What’s wrong, Mommy? Are you afraid of the bad man?”

“Forget about the bad man,” said Amanda, gently placing a hand on each side of her face to hold her attention. “We’re moving to a new place. Away from bad men.”

“Maybe you should take Megan and wait outside in the truck,” suggested Burt. “Really, you don’t need to be, uh, in here. We’ll be done in no time at all.”

“Yes, Mommy! The truck! I want to see the truck!”

Amanda swallowed and nodded in agreement. She knew she would not be able to keep her emotions in check. She turned to Megan and said, “Okay, honey. Let’s go see the truck.”

Megan shrieked with delight and raced out of the room in front of Amanda.

Burt watched them leave, then turned to his friend as they each picked up a box of kitchenware and said, “I’ll kill him if I ever find out who it was.”

“I’d be glad to help you,” swore his friend.

Jack drove to Surrey and parked in an urban area as directed by Virgil. Laura parked Virgil’s BMW behind them and walked up and opened the front door of

the SUV.

Jack looked at Virgil and asked, “Which building? You said it was an apartment in the back?”

“Not these ones,” replied Virgil. “The best way for me to find it is to walk from here and follow the same route she took. I followed her from about this point on.”

“Why did you pick her?” asked Jack.

“It was Sunday and she wasn’t with a guy, so I thought maybe she lived alone. Especially as she lived in an apartment. I figured if she had a house she would probably have a guy.”

Jack glanced at Laura and said, “If I take his cuffs off, do you think he will try to run?”

“Hope so,” muttered Laura.

By the look on Virgil’s face, Jack was confident he would not try anything, so he took the handcuffs off. They then walked down a sidewalk for a block before cutting across a playground and heading down a path leading into some alleys.

Eventually they came upon a row of apartment complexes and Virgil stopped. “I think her apartment is on the other side of that U-Haul truck.”

“You think?” replied Jack. “Keep walking. I want you to be sure.”

As the three of them approached the front of the U-Haul, Jack saw a young girl run around to the front of the truck, followed by her mother’s cry of, “Megan! Come back here!”

Jack crouched down in front of Megan to block her from running out into the alley and said, “Hi, there. Your mommy wants you.” As he spoke, he glanced over his shoulder at Virgil.

Virgil’s mouth was gaped open in panic. Then he quickly turned his back and pretended to fuss with the zipper on his jacket.

Jack felt the goosebumps rise on his body. He knew the young woman he heard calling for Megan was the victim.

Jack glanced at Laura and knew she had also clued in. “Take him back to the SUV,” whispered Jack. “I’ll distract her.”

Amanda was at the back of the truck when Megan first ran around the front, so she darted to the other side, expecting to see Amanda circle the truck. When she didn’t appear, Amanda reversed direction and ran back.

“Megan, don’t be hiding on Mommy. Come here!”

Jack stood up as Amanda rounded the corner of the truck. She hadn’t realized he was there and let out a scream, while grabbing Megan by the arm and taking a couple of steps backwards.

“I’m sorry,” said Jack, rounding the corner of the truck and gesturing with the palms of his hands, trying to indicate she had nothing to be scared of. He smiled apologetically and said, “I hadn’t meant to startle you. I heard you calling for your daughter and wanted to stop her from —”

Jack heard a low guttural curse as a man grabbed him around the chest from behind and tried to throw him to the ground. Jack responded as he had been trained, by clasping the attacker’s arms to his chest so the attacker couldn’t let go, while simultaneously taking one step forward and bending his shoulder over. The result was he threw the man to the ground while landing on top of him. His training had also taught him to follow up with a karate punch to the man’s solar plexus, throat, and groin.

Jack automatically delivered the first blow to the solar plexus, before realizing the smack he heard was the man’s head coming in sudden contact with the asphalt. A quick glance said he was already stunned into submission.

Jack had little time to ponder the situation or stand up before another man rushed at him. Jack responded by kicking his knee. As the second man spun sideways, Jack leapt to his feet and assumed a proper karate stance to face his new opponent who put up his fists.

“No!” cried Amanda, from where she was kneeling and hugging Megan close to her chest. “Burt! It’s not him,” she exclaimed, looking down at her brother lying on the ground, before turning her attention to the other man. “It’s not the guy! This guy has a beard. The man who attacked me didn’t. I screamed because I hadn’t seen him until I came around the truck. He startled me.”

Jack saw the second attacker slowly lower his fists while Burt moaned and tried to sit up.

“He’s not the bad man, is he Mommy?”

“No, sweetie. Uncle Burt just thought he was.”

Amanda’s attention focused on the back of Jack’s jacket. It had ridden up and rested on the top of the pistol stuck in his holster. “He’s got a gun!” she gasped, pointing at Jack.

“I’m a police officer,” said Jack.

“Oh, fuck,” moaned Burt, holding the back of his head and gazing up at Jack.

“Mommy! Uncle Burt said a bad word!” said Megan.

“Everyone take it easy,” said Jack. “I’ll show you my identification.”

The second man took a step forward and looked at Jack’s badge and identification card before nodding at Burt and Amanda.

“I didn’t know,” said Burt, still struggling to sit up.

“It’s okay,” replied Jack. “You likely have a mild concussion. Don’t move for a moment and let me have a look at you.”

Jack knelt beside Burt and gave his head a cursory examination while introductions were made. Jack then moved his fingertip from side to side in front of Burt’s face and told him to focus on it.

“I think you’re okay,” said Jack, “but I’m no doctor, so watch yourself. If you’re feeling sick, get it checked out.”

“I’ll be okay,” said Burt, slowly getting to his feet. He looked at Jack and said, “I’m sorry, but you don’t look like a cop. I heard my sister scream and I thought you were attacking her.”

“Don’t worry about it,” replied Jack. “I think you got the worst of it.”

“Yeah, I got a heck of a goose egg already,” replied Burt, rubbing the back of his head.

“You may want to put a bag of ice or frozen vegetables on it,” suggested Jack.

“I’ll see how it goes.” Burt stared at Jack a moment and added, “You’re obviously here working undercover because of my sister. I hope I didn’t blow it,” he added, glancing around.

“Ah … no, I’m actually here because of another investigation,” replied Jack.

“Another investigation?”

Jack nodded.

“You do know what happened with my sister, right?” asked Burt.

Jack looked at Amanda and their eyes met. He could see the pain and grief in her eyes and on her face. His instinct told him to lie and say he knew nothing about it, but his conscience wouldn’t let him. “Yes, I know about it,” he said softly. “I am so, so sorry.”

She nodded in response.

“Mommy, I want to ride in the truck,” demanded Megan.

“After it is loaded, sweetie. Maybe in an hour.”

“Then let’s go play in the park. Can we? Huh? Can we?”

“That might be a good idea,” suggested Burt. “Why don’t you take her there. When we’re done, I’ll come and get you.”

“Actually, I’m going in that same direction. I’ll walk with you, if you like,” offered Jack.

Amanda took Jack up on his offer and after saying goodbye, they walked together up the alley. There was little conversation between Jack, Amanda, and Megan until they arrived at the park.

“Come here often?” asked Jack.

“Quite a bit,” replied Amanda. “Usually on my way home from work.”

“That’s nice. Family time is important.”

She glanced at Jack and asked, “Are you married? Do you have any kids?”

“Yes to both,” said Jack. “We have two boys. Steve turned two last month and,” Jack smiled, holding his hand lower than waist height, “his big brother, Mike, is three and a half.”

Amanda cast another glance at Jack’s appearance. “Your job must be kind of stressful.”

“It can be.”

“At least you have a partner to share things with. You’re lucky.”

“Are we lucky, Mommy?”

“You and Megan have each other, too,” interjected Jack.

Amanda caressed Megan’s hair and allowed herself a genuine smile for the first time since her attack. “Yes, sweetie, you and I are lucky, too.”

Megan smiled in return and ran to climb inside the plastic tube.

Jack was about to say goodbye to Amanda, when she asked, “You said you were here because of another investigation, yet you knew about me?”

“Yes,” replied Jack, silently wishing he had listened to the instinct he had earlier not to admit he knew about the attack.

“Does this other investigation … well, maybe you can’t tell me,” she said, looking furtively at Jack. “I was wondering if it was at all related to what happened to me. You know … the same kind of thing? Maybe the same guy?”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “The man who attacked you might be connected to some other bad guys. These others are not involved in attacking women, but I think one of them knows the man who attacked you.”

“So if you catch them, you might find out who attacked me,” said Amanda, hopefully. “Maybe let the other guy off to give up the name of who attacked me. Isn’t that how it works? Or is that only on TV or something that —”

“No, that is often how it works,” said Jack.

“So these other guys … what are they suspected —”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say any more than what I told you. Even what I did say was more than I should have.”

“I understand. I won’t tell anyone.” She put her hand on Jack’s sleeve. “Please, promise me you will catch him. I live in absolute terror every moment, knowing he is still out there.”

Catch him? He’s sitting in my car right now… Jack took a deep breath and clenched his jaw as he fought to keep his emotions in check. If I had any guts I would tell you the truth …

“It’s okay,” whispered Amanda compassionately, as she patted his back. “I can see you are doing your best. That is all I can really ask.”

Chapter Eight

“That was the woman,” said Virgil, as soon as Jack opened the front passenger door to the SUV.

Jack eyed Virgil who was sitting handcuffed again in the back seat while Laura sat sideways in the driver’s seat watching him. “I know it was,” he replied, getting in and closing the door.

“So now what? You gonna let me go?”

“You hadn’t mentioned that she had a child,” said Jack.

“What’s that got to do with it?” replied Virgil.

“I suppose for you, nothing,” said Jack in disgust. “Right now, we’re going for another little drive. I’m going to talk to the investigator who is handling her case and confirm a few details before letting you go.”

“But won’t he arrest me?”

“I won’t mention that you’re sitting with my partner out in the parking lot.”

“I don’t feel good about that.”

“You’d feel a lot worse if I did what I really feel like doing to you.” Jack paused and leaned over in the seat, bringing his face close to Virgil’s and added, “I guess that’s not really true … because when I was done, you wouldn’t feel anything ever again.”

Virgil swallowed nervously and stared silently down at the floor.

Jack entered the Major Crime Section and after a brief inquiry, was directed to the desk of Constable Sue McCormick who worked on the Sexual Offence Unit.

After introducing himself to McCormick, he stood across from her desk and told her he had received some information in regard to the rape that was mentioned in the paper earlier in the week.

Jack studied McCormick briefly as she spoke. She was exceptionally young to be handling these types of cases. A lack of a wedding ring and a picture of two cats on her desk told Jack who she lived with. She was strikingly beautiful and had long, blond curly hair. Did she bat her eyelashes at the right person to get the position? Jack soon discovered that she knew her stuff.

“Amanda Evans.” McCormick nodded. “Yes, that’s my case. What do you have?”

“Bits and pieces that might all be bullshit. Would you mind if I took a quick look at your file?”

“Sorry, the file is off-limits. Contains sensitive holdback information. Things that only the real perp would know.”

“I understand. Then could you verify for me if —”

“You said you worked organized crime.”

“That’s right.”

“Not exactly an organized-crime type of venture, so let me guess,” said McCormick, as she leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands behind her head. “You’ve probably got a snitch who threw a name at you.”

“Yes, what I have comes from an informant. Someone whose credibility is as of yet, still unproven.”

McCormick leaned forward in her chair, briefly running her fingers through her hair and shaking her head before clasping her hands on top of her desk. “Let me tell you something. So far we’ve had about twenty of them come forward, all hoping to get a cash reward. None of them know squat and are throwing out names of anyone they think could be capable, causing us to waste a lot of valuable time. Did your informant give you anything other than a name?”

“Well, it so happens that I —”

“Jack! You son of a bitch! What are you doing here? Dumping off more bodies for us to work on?”

Jack turned and saw Corporal Connie Crane smiling at him as she approached.

“Hi, CC. Yeah, if you’re short of work, I think I’ve got five bodies I could toss your way.”

Connie smiled and looked at McCormick. “With this guy he could be telling the truth.” She looked back at Jack and said, “Joking aside, what are you doing?”

“He told me he might have some information in regard to the Amanda Evans assault,” said McCormick.

Connie looked sharply at Jack and said, “Really?”

Jack nodded.

“That is one demented … sick puppy,” said Connie. “Everyone in MCU would like to get their hands on him.”

“He asked to look at the file,” said McCormick, “but of course I said no because of the holdback info.”

“What do you have, Jack?” asked Connie, gravely.

“Yes,” sighed McCormick. “You have another name to add to my list?”

“Not a name,” replied Jack. “But let me take a guess at what the holdback info is. Could it be that the bad guy grated a knife back and forth on her headboard during the assault, or was it that he masked his face in white flour?”

McCormick’s mouth dropped open and she gawked up at Jack. “That … that’s it,” she finally stammered. “Both those things. Who told you that?”

“Well, that’s a bit of a problem,” said Jack. “I can’t really help you with your case. I only came to verify what I heard.”

“You have to tell me,” demanded McCormick. “That really is the holdback information. Only the perp knows about it.”

“And you,” said Jack. “And whoever the perp told and whoever Amanda told.”

“Of course, but I told Amanda not to tell anyone … so … you have to tell me. I’ve got four other cases on my desk that I can link him to.”

“DNA?” asked Jack.

“Got it once. He wears condoms, but in one instance he was obviously aroused before putting it on, because we found semen on the floor at the foot of her bed. What links the other cases comes from the lab matching the marks left by the knife. If we catch him with the knife, his goose is cooked.” McCormick’s eyes watered with emotion. “God, finally. This is the break I’ve been praying for. Who is it?”

Jack paused, feeling the bile in his stomach surge as he thought of the knife outside in his glove box.

“Well?” prodded McCormick.

“Believe me, I would love nothing better than to tell you, but I can’t because … well, it’s one of those, uh, strictly on a need-to-know basis kind of things.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I need to know! I’m the chief investigator on this!”

“Sue, give me a minute to talk to Jack alone, will ya?” said Connie.

McCormick looked back and forth at Jack and Connie, then stormed out of the office.

“Okay,” said Connie quietly. “I know you … and you know I know you. So quit fucking around. Please don’t tell me that Amanda Evans is your friend or a relative or something. If we find the perp dead in an alley with a knife shoved up his ass, I’ll be coming down hard on you with both —”

“I’ve never heard of Amanda until today,” said Jack.

“So what’s the deal, then?”

“Do you remember me telling you that I had five bodies for you?”

“Yeah. You weren’t serious about that, were you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Christ,” Connie muttered.

“I don’t have the bodies in hand yet. I’m told five people were murdered over the last eight years on an insurance scam to collect money. The murders were made to look like accidents.”

“So what does this have to do with the rape? Did one of the murderers do it?”

“No. The informant who is giving me the details on the murders gave me the details on the rape to prove credibility.”

“Jesus Christ! I think I’m gonna puke! Are you telling me you’re letting a serial rapist off because of some story about a bunch of murders?”

“To start with, I didn’t say the informant was that person.”

Connie gave Jack a hard look and said, “If it wasn’t, it must be somebody that is in real tight with him. Either way, if we don’t bust him, it is the same thing as letting him go.”

“Even if it was the same person, except for reading a short blurb in the paper, I didn’t know about any of the details about the rape until the informant gave them to me. I only received those details after I gave my word that I would not tell anyone who had divulged that information to me. I made the decision to protect the informant in lieu of solving five murders and preventing three more. What would you have done?”

“Preventing three more?” said Connie in surprise.

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t mention that. I’m feeling a little groggy. Apparently they are going to kill three more victims between now and Christmas.”

“Ah, God, Jack. Are you sure you’re getting the straight goods on these murders? I presume your informant didn’t come forward to be a good citizen. If you’re holding something over your so-called informant’s head … like going to jail … all this talk of murders could be bullshit.”

“It’s obvious the details about the rape aren’t bullshit. I don’t think the information about the murders is, either. I’ll do some digging. If my informant is lying to me, I’ll gift-wrap the sick bastard who did the rape and deliver him to you, or better yet, stuff him in a crab trap someplace.”

Connie vented her frustration by giving the desk a kick, which raised a few heads in the office. “At least I understand your dilemma,” said Connie bitterly, “but it still makes me want to puke.”

“Can’t say as I like it, either,” said Jack. “Knowingly letting a rapist walk around … well, it makes it feel really personal to me.”

Connie reflected on past investigations that Jack had taken personally. “Uh, Jack, between you and me, I wish to make it clear that I prefer your gift-wrapping strategy over using a crab trap.”

“I was only joking about the crab trap.”

“Were you?” frowned Connie. “Don’t even go there with me. You’ve got far too much history of being around bad guys who keep turning up dead.”

“Like you said, let’s not go there.”

“I presume you’ll need a hand with the murders? Speaking of which, where is Laura?”

“She’s out in the car making a personal call. As far as the offer to help goes, I appreciate it, but they are not in your jurisdiction.”

“Can’t say that I’m not relieved to hear that.”

“Three are American, one is British, and one is from Vancouver. I’m told that at least two of the next three victims will be Canadian. If things check out, I’ll liase with Vancouver PD on the Canadian victim.”

“Oh shit,” muttered Connie, while looking over Jack’s shoulder. “McCormick went and got Inspector Dyck.”

“Who’s he?” asked Jack, turning to see McCormick approaching with a man who was dressed in a suit and tie. The man was tall and had a physique that said he worked out. He strutted across the room with the confidence of someone in charge.

“A new inspector transferred in from Ottawa,” whispered Connie.

“Are you Corporal Taggart?” asked Dyck, pointing his finger at Jack’s chest.

“Yes, I’m Jack Taggart,” he replied, extending his hand. “And you are?”

“Inspector Dyck,” he replied, ignoring the handshake. “What’s this garbage I hear that you know who is responsible for the sexual assault on Amanda Evans and are refusing to disclose who it is? Do you think this is some kind of a joke?”

“It’s no laughing matter,” replied Jack. “I have an informant who is providing me details on five murders, along with three more potential murders. The victims are apparently honest citizens murdered on an insurance scam. The informant supplied details about Amanda Evans to show credibility.”

“Who are the victims?”

“I don’t know yet. Some are American. One Canadian and a Brit. I need a few more days to check things out.”

“This is preposterous,” spluttered Dyck. “I demand that you give me the informant’s name immediately.”

“I promised the informant that I would not disclose or compromise his or her identity.”

“From what I have been told, either your informant is the rapist … or someone damned close to him. We need to know who it is and we need to know now!”

“Sir, I work on an Intelligence Unit targeting organized crime. Keeping my word is not only a moral issue I take seriously, it is also tantamount to maintaining my reputation as someone to be trusted. I deal with high-level criminals on a regular basis. They need to know that I will protect them.”

“For your information, Corporal, I am very familiar with the file. Let me tell you that this isn’t his first time. Knife marks left on the beds of other rape victims match. He is becoming more brazen and increasing his level of violence. The profilers believe he will graduate to mutilation and murder soon.”

“The profilers could be right,” said Jack, “but the current murders trump the sexual assault. I need to investigate the murders.”

“Current murders? Where’s your proof of that? You don’t even know who the victims are.”

“That is why a need a few days,” replied Jack.

“We may not have a few days. If your informant has already given you what he or she knows, then you don’t need the informant anymore. You shouldn’t have any qualms about giving me the name.”

“Maybe that is how you work, but I don’t work that way,” snapped Jack.

“Don’t you use that tone with me, Corporal!”

Jack sighed. “Sir, I gave my word. I will be in a position to monitor the rapist. If he tries to strike again, I will give you the name. My promise to the informant is only for past crimes.”

Dyck turned to McCormick and said, “Where is the file? I need to see it again.”

McCormick handed Dyck the file and he went through it and quickly opened a brown manila envelope. A second later, he thrust a picture in front of Jack’s face.

Jack blinked his eyes to control his emotion. It was a picture taken of Amanda Evans shortly after the assault. Her grief and tears were evident, along with superficial knife marks on her neck. Jack swallowed and clenched his fists to contain his own grief.

“Take a good look,” seethed Dyck. “She also has a three-year-old daughter who witnessed the assault! You are so hot on protecting your informant … who is protecting her, or the next victim?”

Jack momentarily closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before slowly exhaling. “It’s simple logic,” he sighed. “I’m willing to let a rapist go to catch someone committing murder. I really do hope you catch the person who attacked Amanda … but it won’t be with my help for crimes up to this point.”

Dyck’s face darkened. “I’ve had enough of your insolence,” he growled. “So listen very carefully. I am not asking. I am ordering you to tell me!”

“I do not burn my informants,” said Jack firmly.

“You will this time, or I’ll have you charged with obstruction of justice,” said Dyck matter-of-factly. “To make it very clear, you will not be leaving this office, except in handcuffs, unless you give me the name.”

Silence descended as all eyes were fixed on Jack. Eventually Jack nodded and took a piece of paper from the desk and wrote on it. He carefully folded the paper to hide the name and glared at Dyck a moment, then said, “Leave me out of it,” before handing the paper over.

“I’m glad for your sake that you came to your senses,” said Dyck, as he unfolded the paper to glance at the name.

“There is something you need to realize,” replied Jack. “More than my reputation is at stake. Most of my informants would be murdered if word leaked out that they were talking to the police. I would respectfully ask that you give considerable thought as to how you proceed with this.”

Dyck nodded and watched as Jack strode out of the office. “Crane, McCormick, the both of you into my office,” ordered Dyck.

A moment later, Connie and McCormick sat in front of Dyck’s desk as he toyed with the slip of paper in his fingers while thinking about his next step. “Okay,” he said, “Corporal Crane, it has been brought to my attention that you’re one of the best interrogators in the office.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I realize you work homicides, but I would like you to assist and take the lead for the interview in this matter.”

“Yes, sir,” replied Connie.

Dyck glanced at McCormick. “I hope you don’t take offence, but Corporal Crane does have far more experience than you.”

“No offence taken, sir,” replied McCormick. “I look at it as a chance to learn.”

Connie glanced at McCormick and thought, Believe me kid, with Taggart involved you’ll probably learn more than you will ever want to know …

“I expect the interview to take place as soon as possible,” said Dyck. “You can use whatever location you think is appropriate to try and maintain confidentiality.”

“So I won’t be interviewing the rapist?” asked Connie.

“No. The name and phone number he gave me is for a woman.” Dyck shook his head and added, “She must be one sad, demented soul to be hanging out with the guy we’re after.”

Connie accepted the piece of paper Dyck handed her. Goddamn it, Jack …

“Is there a problem?” asked Dyck.

“Uh, sir, the name on the paper that Jack … I mean Corporal Taggart gave you, uh …”

“Her phone number is there,” noted Dyck, sounding irritated. “Scoop her up as soon as you can.”

“It’s not that, sir. The name he gave you is Rose Wood.”

“I saw that.”

“That is Staff Sergeant Rose Wood. She is Taggart’s boss. The phone number is her office number.”

Dyck’s face reddened and he yelled, “Give me that paper!”

Chapter Nine

Jack was already dialling his phone as he got back into the SUV while at the same time telling Laura to drive back to where Virgil’s car was parked. As he waited for Rose to answer, Virgil leaned forward from the back seat.

“Told you everything would check out,” said Virgil, smugly.

“Shut up,” said Jack. “No, not you Rose.”

“Heard from the narcs that it went well last night,” said Rose. “The Americans took down the courier and a fellow picking him up. They got twenty-eight kilos of meth.”

“I know,” replied Jack.

“Are you on your way to the office? I knew you would be sleeping and didn’t want to bother you, but I’d like a report on it before the day is over. The brass are pleased, but with the Americans involved, they’ll want all the details pronto.”

“Laura and I haven’t been to bed yet. We’re still working.”

“I thought it was all wrapped up hours ago?”

“What you’re talking about is. We’ve been working on something different.”

“Important enough to keep you both working for what … the last twenty-something hours straight?”

“It might involve some murders, with more murders to follow.”

“It does,” said Virgil from the back seat. “What I told you is —”

Jack put his finger to his lips telling Virgil to be quiet.

“Sounds to me like more than the two guys in the U.S. were caught,” said Rose.

“You’re right about that,” said Jack. “Laura and I are still debriefing the person as we speak. We will come to the office as soon as we’re done.”

“Sounds interesting. See you when you get here.”

“There’s more. I take it you haven’t received a call from the big dick yet?”

“Who?”

“Inspector Dyck.”

“Who’s he?”

“He recently transferred in to Major Crimes in Surrey. Came from Ottawa. I have a feeling that he might be a little upset with me.”

“Pray tell,” replied Rose, skeptically. “What happened that would give you that idea?”

“I could tell by his demeanour. I told him that I would be looking into some possible murders —”

“They’re not possible! They’re real!” yelled Virgil from the back seat.

“And that upset him?” asked Rose.

“Well, there is a bit more to it than that. There was a matter of credibility, but the source alleviated some of it,” said Jack, turning in his seat to glare at Virgil, “by admitting to a recent crime. Dyck wanted to know the informant’s name and I refused.”

“What kind of crime?” asked Rose. “Are we talking murder, rape, bank robbery, what?”

“Your second guess.”

“Rape?”

“Yes. Repeatedly.”

“Oh, God,” moaned Rose.

“Yeah,” replied Jack. “Exactly.”

“You better hope he’s not lying to you about the murders.”

“If he is lying to me about anything, I’ll feed him to the wolves,” said Jack, staring intently at Virgil who decided to gaze at the floor mat.

“And the big dick wouldn’t … I mean Inspector Dyck, you said by his demeanour that —”

“I meant that the more I refused to tell him … da’ meaner he got.”

“That isn’t all that funny, Jack.”

“Try staying up for twenty-seven hours straight. Then it will seem funnier.”

“Hang on, I got passed a note. Seems I have an urgent call waiting.”

“Gee, I wonder who that could be?”

Rose sighed. “Guess this is why I make the big bucks. See me as soon as you’re done there.”

When Laura parked behind Virgil’s car, Jack turned in his seat and stared silently at Virgil.

“So I’m free to go?” asked Virgil, nervously.

“Yes, but you will remain on a very short leash. I need you to find out whatever you can to help us catch these guys. See if you can find out who your brother works for. The guy you said is Mr. Merlin or Marlin.”

“I’ll try. Oskar should arrive in Victoria today. He told me he would stay until at least the end of the month. He is going to be in some sort of boat race.”

“That would be the Swiftsure International Yacht Race,” said Jack. “They have it every year during the last week in May.”

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“You told me he plans on killing three more people before Christmas.”

“Yeah, then he’ll retire on some beach some —”

“I want you over there tonight.”

“I’ve been up since two o’clock yesterday afternoon! It’s now ten o’clock in the morning. I need —”

“You need to get your ass over there!” yelled Jack.

“Okay, okay,” replied Virgil quickly.

“I’ll let you go home and sleep for a few hours. It will take me that long to get a proper surveillance team on you.”

“Surveillance team? You said you weren’t going to tell anyone!”

“Special ‘O’ won’t know anything about what you told us.”

“Special ‘O’?”

“It’s a specialized unit who are experts in surveillance.”

“But they’ll know what I did?”

“No. I use them frequently. A judge will only issue a wiretap order as a last resort. We have to show that other investigative means were tried and failed. Special ‘O’ is used all the time with drug dealers to conduct surveillance and put in reports to prove that surveillance alone is not sufficient to catch someone. I’ll assign them to follow you and tell them I think you are dealing dope. As a matter of routine they will identify who you meet. It will go toward convincing me that you’re on the level. Perhaps later, I’ll have them watch your brother.”

Bullshit, thought Virgil. You want to catch me the next time I go and pork some bitch. He looked at Jack and said, “How long do you expect they will be following me?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe a week or two.”

Yeah, I bet …

“Until Special ‘O’ is set up on you, we will follow you home and wait nearby until they arrive. I want you on the seven o’clock ferry tonight. That will give you time for a little shuteye.”

“Fuck, after what I have been through, I doubt that I’ll be able to sleep, anyway,” grumbled Virgil.

“Try and find out how Oskar picks the victims and anything else that would help. We’ll be giving you our phone numbers. If you hear something important, call us day or night. Also keep your own phone handy in case we need to talk to you.”

“Yeah, okay,” replied Virgil, “but tell them to be careful if they’re following my brother. He’s really bright. I was a straight-A student all through high school and in the top two percentile of my intelligence scores, but I can tell you, Oskar is a lot brighter than me.”

“So if you have the brains, why did you pick a career as a criminal?” asked Jack.

Virgil looked at Jack and shrugged.“Because I enjoy a challenge, although I have to admit that up until now, keeping a step ahead of you guys hasn’t been all that challenging.”

Jack felt irritated that Virgil seemed to be enjoying the moment and decided to change the subject. “Is your address right on your driver’s licence?”

“Yeah, it’s a duplex out in Richmond,” replied Virgil.

“Got a garage?” Jack asked.

“It’s a carport. It will be easy to see my car, if that is what you’re worried about.”

Jack nodded and said, “Okay, the cuffs are coming off.”

Once Virgil had been released, Jack opened the glove box and handed him the knife.

Virgil was hesitant to take it, as he eyed Laura, wondering if it was a trick.

“Take the goddamned thing,” said Jack, harshly. “But be warned, if you do any more rapes, all deals are off, got it?”

“Never again,” said Virgil, quickly tucking the knife in his belt and pulling his shirt over it.

Jack stared at Virgil who returned his stare without blinking. After a moment, Jack nodded. “Good, I’m hoping I can believe you.”

Virgil was careful to act solemn, but scowled hatefully at Laura before opening the door and leaving.

Laura waited until Virgil got in his car and pulled away from the curb before pulling out to follow him. She then cast a sideways glance at Jack and said, “Did you see the look he gave me before he got out?”

“Yes. He likes to control women. You throwing him to the ground and choking him didn’t sit well with him.”

“You really believe he’s not going to rape again?”

“There is no doubt in my mind he intends to do it again,” said Jack, bitterly. “At the moment he is scared and will probably be cautious, but guys like that don’t quit. It will be our job to make sure he doesn’t succeed next time.”

“There’s no way we’ll get Special ‘O’ this quick. They’re tied up on all these gang shootings. We’d be lucky to get them in six months.”

“I know, but he doesn’t know that. We need to keep him on the straight and narrow while we check out these murders. After what he told us, he is probably expecting surveillance regardless. If we had it, he would probably spot them, but thinking that it is a specialized unit might scare him. It will drive him nuts trying to figure out who is watching him.”

“You shouldn’t have given him his knife back. I know you are probably hoping he will get caught with it as evidence, but I was thinking we could have used it to castrate him instead.”

Jack smiled. “That’s what I like about you. You’re such a kind, sensitive, and gentle person. Makes me feel guilty for what I am thinking of doing to him.”

Chapter Ten

Jack and Laura sat across from Rose’s desk as Jack brought her up to date on what had transpired. He explained that it started when they caught a drug dealer on the Canadian side of the border who gave them the information about the murders.

“Inspector Dyck was absolutely furious when he called me,” said Rose. “I had the distinct impression he intended to have you charged, either in service court or criminally.”

“How did it end up?” asked Jack.

“He has never worked on intelligence or organized crime. I think his heart is in the right place.”

“Sure, a heart of solid gold and a brain to match,” said Jack, feeling tired and still irritated with his encounter.

“Well, as you always say, maybe he doesn’t understand the big picture yet. I suggested he take the matter up with his chief superintendent, who he said is on holidays, so I told him to give Assistant Commissioner Isaac a call.”

“Welcome to the lower mainland,” said Laura. “His first week on the job and he has to go to the Criminal Ops Officer.”

“Did that make his ass pucker?” asked Jack.

“Maybe a little,” replied Rose. “He wants the three of us to meet him at his office first to see if we can resolve the issue.”

“Probably wants to slap more photographs in our faces,” said Jack. “Right away?”

“No. I told him that the two of you have been up over twenty-four hours straight. It was agreed we would meet Friday at one o’clock.”

“That’s tomorrow afternoon.” Laura yawned.

“I know. I would suggest that the both of you try and get something more to back up you informant’s credibility before then.”

“It is the informant who did the rape,” said Jack. “Admitting to something like that adds credibility in my eyes.”

“I figured it was the same person,” said Rose, briefly putting her hand over her eyes while massaging her temples with her fingertips. When she finished she looked at Jack.“With your informant being the rapist, what if it is a scam?”

“A scam?” asked Laura. “The guy only thinks he’s smart. I doubt that he’s smart enough for that.

“Maybe he’s not,” said Rose, looking at Jack. “But has he been smart enough in his criminal dealings in the past to consult with a lawyer for advice?”

“Meaning if caught, say for rape, fabricate a story … like five murders … and cut a deal, knowing we would go for it.”

“Exactly,” said Rose. “The old pretend to help, cut a deal with the police, and later if he is charged with the rape, tell the judge that the police were simply incompetent at solving the murders and are being dishonourable.

“And have the case tossed out for putting justice into disrepute.” Jack sighed. “I’m all too familiar with it. Lawyers standing up in court and telling the judge how their client is such a good citizen that he even tried to help the police over serious matters in the past.”

“It is something to consider,” said Rose.

“I had considered it, but under the circumstances, what choice did I have?”

“I’m not disagreeing with the choice you made, but between now and one o’clock tomorrow, I would suggest you get something to back up your informant’s claim.”

“We’ll do our best,” said Jack. “Speaking of the informant, once he got over his initial fear, he was egostistic and arrogant enough that I do believe he was telling us the truth. Including his assertion that he was a straight-A student.”

“I agree with Jack,” said Laura. “I think he would have been more nervous if he was lying about the murders.”

“I’d like to understand his personality a little better,” said Jack. “Considering the type of crimes that he is into, from exporting drugs to serial rape, what do you make of him? If what he says is true about his school achievements, the guy doesn’t fit the normal criminal profile.”

“What do I make of him? The guy should be locked away for life,” she added, bitterly, shaking her head.

“I agree with you there, but you do have a master’s in psychology, is there anything else you can add?”

Rose leaned forward, drumming her fingers on her desk for a moment before replying. “He won’t quit, I can tell you that much. He may have a deep-seated hatred of women, or could be a psychopath. Totally without conscience. Maybe both.”

“I tend to think he will strike again, too,” said Laura. “Although he didn’t seem so tough when I grabbed him by the throat and threw him to the ground last night.”

“You did that?” asked Rose.

“He needed an attitude adjustment,” Laura replied. “Believe me, you would have done the same thing.”

“A guy like that will have it out for you,” cautioned Rose. “Watch yourself. He may also be tempted to take his anger out on the next woman he attacks.”

“Oh, man. I hadn’t thought of that,” said Laura. Her voice cracked as she spoke and the thought of

the potential consequence of her action made her want to cry.

“Well, you may have rushed him along a little,” said Rose, “but I am sure that if he wasn’t caught, he would progress to murder eventually. He considers himself of superior intelligence to others. Part of this could be amusement for him, treating the police like a challenger in a chess game.”

“We’ll have to stop him dead in his tracks before he strikes again,” said Jack.

“Dead is right,” said Laura in frustration. “Wish he had tried to attack me when I was alone with him. I’d have enjoyed double-tapping two into his chest.”

“I understand your emotions,” said Rose, “but fantasizing is not the answer. We need to come up with a plan.”

“I will,” said Jack. “At the moment he thinks he is being watched, so I don’t think he will try anything for a little while.”

“I should know his name,” said Rose. “If something were to happen to you two, it would —”

“And if you were ordered to divulge it?” said Jack.

“I would refuse.”

“Why put your career in needless jeopardy? Let’s wait a few days until we see which direction the storm is blowing.”

“Are you refusing to tell me?” asked Rose.

“More like stalling,” said Jack. “I’ll write his name down on a piece of paper and lock it in my desk drawer. If something happens to us, you’ll know where to look.”

“If I do need to look, I better not find my name written down on that piece of paper.”

“The thought would never occur to me.” Jack smiled.

Rose stared silently at Jack and Laura for a moment and then said, “Why are you both sitting there? Don’t you have work to do?”

Rose leaned forward and rested her chin on clasped hands as she stared at the empty chairs in front of her desk. Jack does his best to protect me …will I be able to protect him?

Once back in their own office, Jack turned to Laura and said, “Call Commercial Crime. Tell them to dig up everything they can on Oskar Cruickshank. Companies Branch, everything.”

“Will do,” replied Laura as she sat down.

“Also ask them about insurance companies and what records are kept as to who is paid. Make sure they know everything has to be confidential. If Oskar gets word that we’re making inquiries about him, we’ll be hooped. Tell them to run Virgil’s name as well and make sure he’s not tied in more than he is telling us.”

“Got it.”

“I would like to know what they have by first thing tomorrow morning.”

“You’re talking Commercial Crime. They don’t do anything fast.”

“I know, but this isn’t a ten-year fraud case with a truckload of paper to examine. We’re talking murder.”

“I’ll ask, but tomorrow morning?”

“I know it’s pushing it, but let them know that three people’s lives may depend upon how fast they get their results.”

“Not to mention letting you-know-who run around in the meantime.”

“Keep that one to yourself. It didn’t work so well when I tried to explain that to Inspector Dyck.”

“So I gather.”

“While you’re doing that, I’ll call a contact in the States and see what they know.”

Twenty minutes later, Laura hung up the phone and looked at Jack who had a phone in his hand, but was on hold. “What have you got?” he whispered.

“Commercial Crime doesn’t have anything on Oskar Cruickshank, but will check with their sources. I don’t know if we’ll have a reply by morning or not. What do you want me to do now?”

“Go home and go to bed. I want you back at eight-thirty tomorrow morning. I think it is going to be a long day.”

“And today wasn’t? Or was that yesterday and today? Or … you know what I mean. How are you making out?”

“On hold with a buddy of mine. Jim-Bo is with the DEA in San Diego and is running the names on computer.”

“Close enough to L.A.,” noted Laura. “Want me to wait until you’re done?”

“No. Go home and get some sleep.”

“Hope I can,” she said, as she stood up. “Think I’ll take Mister Smith and Wesson to bed and leave my balcony door open.”

Jack gave her a thumbs-up sign as she left the office.

Jack knew what she meant about not being able to sleep. Are we doing the right thing? His thoughts turned to Amanda and Megan as the bile and acid swirled higher inside his empty stomach.

“Y’all still there?” asked Jim-Bo.

“I’m still here,” replied Jack, turning his attention back to the phone.

“Might take a few more days to check for insurance and company-type stuff, but I did come up with a couple of things.”

“Good, I’m ready,” said Jack, poising his pen over a piece of paper.

“The first is on Virgil Cruickshank. There isn’t a date of birth on the report we have, but the name is unusual. My guess is it’s the same guy. It’s a report from eight years ago March, where a CI said a Virgil Cruickshank was suspected of running meth down to California from Canada.”

“I’ve received the same information recently,” said Jack. “It is definitely the same guy. What was the other thing?”

“LAPD have a brief report. Goes back to December eight years ago. An inquiry from a Captain Brent Morgan in the LAPD. He wanted to know if there was anything dirty concerning Oskar and Virgil Cruickshank, or a guy by the name of Ben Pike.”

“Ben Pike is a new name for me,” said Jack, writing it down. “What do you have on him?”

“Nothing. The only thing Captain Morgan would have learned from his inquiry at the time, was the same report I told you about Virgil moving meth.”

“Morgan didn’t say why he was interested?”

“No. Eight years is a long time, but still, do you want me to track him down and ask? Or have him call you?”

“Please. It’s urgent.”

“What isn’t?” noted Jim-Bo, hanging up.

Jack finished typing a brief report outlining the information received from Virgil and the investigative steps taken so far. He was putting his jacket on to go home when his phone rang. It was Brent Morgan who was now retired and calling from his home in L.A.

After the niceties were exchanged, Morgan said, “I dug out my old notebook. It wasn’t me who was interested, but a past acquaintance of mine by the name of Tom Donald. Tom said a friend of his by the name of Paul Jennings had been hired to work for Oskar Cruickshank. Tom figured these guys were up to no good and was worried about his friend.”

“What prodded Tom to think these guys were dirty?”

“Tom is in the music business. He’s a straight guy, but has seen a lot of bad things associated with people connected to the industry. He’s also pretty good at reading people. Turns out he was right about one of them. Virgil was into the drug scene, but Oskar and Ben Pike were clean. Pike worked for Oskar, but Virgil had nothing to do with the company.”

“Do you have the company name?”

“Yup, right here. It was called Pacific Ethical Fund Consulting Services.”

“Thanks. Is Tom the kind of guy you would trust to keep his mouth shut if he knew I was interested in these guys?”

“Oh, for sure,” replied Morgan.

“Good. Any chance you could talk to him and see if there is anything else he could give? I’m hearing some rumours that Oskar Cruickshank is involved in multiple murders.”

“No kidding? I told you Tom was good at reading people.”

“I believe you,” replied Jack, trying to stifle a yawn.

“But I haven’t talked to him since the day I made the inquiries for him. You can probably find him better than me. He’s Canadian. Last I heard he was living in Vancouver and doing some sort of consulting work in the music industry.”

It didn’t take Jack long to located Tom Donald, who agreed to meet him an hour later in a coffee shop. After they each described what they were wearing, Jack hung up.

Virgil threw back the covers and gave up on the idea of being able to sleep. Too many things were racing through his mind, including Laura.

That fucking bitch grabbing me by the throat and tripping me! She wouldn’t have dared try it if she was alone and if I wasn’t handcuffed …

He thought about the trip he had to take over to Victoria to see his brother and knew there was something he must do.

Moments later, Virgil stuck his knife and his ski mask under his shirt and went to his car.

Chapter Eleven

Jack met Tom in a coffee shop as scheduled. After initial introductions where Tom closely examined Jack’s police identification, both men ordered a coffee and waited for it to arrive before talking.

“So, on the phone you said you were investigating Oskar Cruickshank,” said Tom. “By the looks of you … your goatee, dark circles under your eyes —” he smiled “— I bet you you’re a narc who spends half his time working nights on surveillance and that you’re going to tell me he is moving dope?”

“You’re close, but actually I work on an Intelligence Unit dealing with organized crime.”

“Oh, the heavy stuff,” said Tom matter-of-factly.

“I’ve heard rumours that Oskar’s brother, Virgil, is moving dope. I’m hearing other nasty things about Oskar.”

“Organized crime.” Tom as took a sip of coffee. “Well, that figures. I thought Oskar was too smooth.”

“And you were checking them out because you were worried about a friend who was working for Oskar?”

“Back then, a buddy of mine by the name of Paul Jennings got a job with Oskar’s company. Except for maybe smoking pot, Paul was a real straight guy. He wouldn’t be involved with any company he thought would be doing anything wrong. He told me the company was into some sort of ethical-investment thing.”

“I’ve heard that, but am also hearing that Oskar is up to other stuff.”

Tom nodded. “I’m afraid I can’t really help you. I only met Oskar and his brother once at a Christmas party the company was having. It was at the Redbury Hotel in Hollywood. I wouldn’t have even remembered Oskar and Virgil’s names if you hadn’t reminded me when you called.”

“At the time you thought they appeared suspicious.”

“Yeah, something didn’t seem right. Virgil seemed slimy and Oskar was … well, I told you, he was slick … like a con man. I didn’t see Paul being a good fit and I was surprised they hired him.”

“Is Paul still with the company?” asked Jack.

“No. He was only with the company about two months. He died in a tragic accident the day after the Christmas party.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. How did it happen?”

“He was putting up Christmas lights when his ladder slipped and he crashed through his living-room window. The glass sliced his throat and I guess he died within minutes. Left behind a young wife and two kids.”

“What a horrible thing for his family to see happen.”

“Actually, Paul was alone when it happened, but his wife and kids were the ones to find his body when they got home.”

Bingo … “Again, I am really sorry to hear that, about your friend, let alone how tragic it was for his family.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Tom pushed his half-full cup of coffee aside as he reflected, before letting out a deep sigh. “His family was devastated. Seeing their dad like that, well … you can imagine.”

Jack nodded. “Sorry to be bringing all this up. I only need a bit more. You asked Brent Morgan to check out a Ben Pike, as well. Where does he fit in?”

“Who? A Ben Pike?”

“That’s what —”

“Oh, wait, that would have been one of the security guys.”

“Security?”

“Besides meeting Oskar and Virgil at the party, there was some other guy. I had forgotten his name. He was an ex-Marine or something. I recall he had a bit of a spat with Paul for being an anti-war protester.”

“A bit of a spat?”

“Nothing came of it. As I recall, Pike apologized. It was Christmas time. People were drinking and having fun.”

“Is there anybody else you can remember? Any other names?”

“Sorry, no. Oskar, Virgil, and Pike the Spike was it.”

“Pike the Spike?”

“Oh, that was just a nickname I made up because Paul told me they were trained killers. Black-belt types. Nobody else called him that.”

“You said they were trained killers. Who was they?”

“Oh, right, there was somebody else. I don’t think I met the other guy. I remember Pike was built like a gorilla. Even walked like one. He was with some other guy who was bigger, or at least taller.”

“Can you remember anything at all about how the bigger guy looked?”

“Not really. Sorry, it’s been too long. I do remember he had a nickname, but I can’t remember what it was. Something to do with the way he walked. He bounced off of each step like a kangaroo or something. I joked with Paul about them. Calling them Pike the Spike and Captain Kangaroo.”

“Captain Kangaroo?”

“I think so. No, wait. That wasn’t it.” Tom thought a moment and said, “Killer Kangaroo … no, hang on …” Tom’s face lit up. “It was Rabbit. The other guy’s nickname was Rabbit because of how he walked. I joked with Paul and referred to them as Pike the Spike and Killer Rabbit.”

After thanking Tom for his assistance, Jack went to a convenience store and found an exact duplicate of the map booklet that Virgil was using.

One hour later, Jack arrived home and found Natasha sitting on the sofa reading Dr. Seuss to Mike and Steve. She paused as Jack leaned over to kiss her.

“Long day at the office,” noted Natasha, as Jack gave each boy a kiss and a hug.

“You could say that. One of those days where I wished I was the one staying home and not working.”

“It’s not exactly a complete holiday.” Natasha frowned. “Besides looking after these two, did you notice I weeded the flower beds? Not to mention laundry and cleaning house?”

“The flower beds, too? Guess I was too tired to notice. That was something we didn’t have to do when we lived in a condo.”

“Well it needs to be done now. Not to mention the perks I’ve had over the last few years of changing dirty diapers, making dinners, and running to the store. Guess it is all part of the advantages I get for being home.”

Jack glanced at Natasha and realized how much his comment had irritated her. “Sorry about the not-working comment. Sometimes I don’t think I appreciate how much you do.”

She shrugged in response.

“Do you wish you were back at work, looking after your patients at the clinic?”

“No, having a home and family is always what I wanted. I’ll get back to work when the boys are older.”

Jack nodded in response.

“But I was envisioning having a family where the husband was around, too,” continued Natasha.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed. “But don’t give me any nonsense about how you wish you were the one staying home. Besides, I don’t think you’d have the energy to keep up with these guys.” She tickled Mikey’s stomach and watched him laugh and squirm away.

“Right now I don’t,” admitted Jack, “but I want you to know that I really love you.”

“Oh, I think I know that,” replied Natasha. “You reminded me last week at the house party.”

“I did?” replied Jack, so tired that he could hardly remember when a neighbour invited several couples in to get to know each other. It seemed like a long time ago. As he recalled, everyone was friendly but he found the conversation less than stimulating.

“Don’t you remember what you shouted to me across the room?”

Jack smiled. “I love you, Natasha Taggart!”

“You made me blush.”

Jack grinned. “Well, you must not have been too embarrassed, you shouted back that you loved me, too.”

“I think people looked at us like we were a little daft.”

“They don’t know what we’ve been through together. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t appreciate what we have as a family.”

“Then you drank too much and told the one guy you were an airline pilot and had to go to work in a couple of hours. He was really upset. Then you told someone else the same thing, except that you were a neurosurgeon.”

“I thought the party need livening up. It gave them all something to talk about later.”

Natasha shook her head and muttered, “I can dress you up, but I can’t take you out. I could only imagine what trouble you would have gotten into if I hadn’t decided to take you home.”

Jack smiled. “You’re probably right. And don’t think I don’t appreciate it. I’d be lost without you.”

“Are you lost now?” asked Natasha.

“What?” responded Jack. “Oh, this,” he said, realizing that Natasha was referring to the booklet of maps he had purchased. “No, it’s to help me catch a bad guy.”

“You out with some bad guys today?” asked Mikey.

“Yes, but that’s a secret.”

“Ya, undercover,” he said, putting his finger to his lips. “Shhhh.”

“And how is Stevey T?” asked Jack, making a claw with his hand and pretending he was going to grab Steve’s stomach.

Steve giggled and cuddled in closer with his mom for protection.

“Don’t get him started again,” said Natasha. “He’s been running around here all day wearing an old satchel bag on his head. He thinks it is the funniest thing.”

“Seems kind of funny to me, too,” said Jack.

“You catch any sleep last night at all?” asked Natasha.

“None, which is what I am going to do right now.”

Jack said good night and kissed everyone again before taking a shower and collapsing into bed. He had been up for thirty-two hours straight and expected to fall asleep immediately, but his mind wasn’t ready to let him off the hook that easy.

He heard Mike and Steve charging around the living room. Mike would yell out, “Batman!” which would then be reiterated by Steve.

Natasha tried to get them to lower their voices. He felt bad. It’s only the middle of the afternoon. They’re boys … they should be allowed to play.

His thoughts drifted to Amanda and Megan and the guilt he felt when he met them face-to-face. More guilt soaked through his brain when he thought of the picture that Dyck had rammed into his face, showing Amanda shortly after being attacked.

He picked up the map booklet from off the bedside table and skipped through it, looking at the pages where the page numbers had been crossed off, but realized he was too tired to concentrate.

He thought of a man with his throat slashed being found by his family at Christmas time. What Tom told me helps verify that Virgil was telling the truth …but having an informant who is a serial rapist ... I don’t know if I can handle it.

Maybe they’ll catch him with the knife … he thought, before drifting off to sleep.

Virgil waited in the ferry cafeteria until the ferry was midway to Victoria, before returning to the car-deck. He did not see anyone following him, but was still cautious as he went to the trunk of his car on the pretence of getting a jacket, which he folded over his arm. He then wandered over to a portal on the car-deck and leaned out, as if enjoying the view.

He knew he had panicked when he was first caught and went over things again. Turning me over to the Americans … fuck, I would really go to jail. Still, telling them about the rape … I should have kept my mouth shut … but did I really have a choice?

Virgil’s jaw set in rigid determination.

One thing is for certain … the panic is over.

Nobody saw him drop the jungle knife, wrapped in a ski mask, into the ocean, where it immediately sank from sight.

Virgil stared into the dark waters and breathed a sigh of relief. You really think I didn’t know the real reason you gave me the knife back? I’m not a stupid man, Mister Taggart. All you have accomplished is to make me change my … what do you cops call it? My modus operandi.

As Virgil walked back up the stairs to the cafeteria, he gave an evil grin as he fantasized. Ah, my lovely … it is Mister Taggart’s fault that you must die …

Chapter Twelve

On Friday, Jack arrived at his office at eight o’clock in the morning. Laura was already in, as was Rose, so they sat in Rose’s office while Jack outlined what he had learned.

“Paul Jennings’s death may have been an accident,” noted Rose. “Perhaps your informant knew about it and decided to weave it into a scam to deceive us.”

“Possible,” admitted Jack, “but it is interesting that Tom Donald also thinks Oskar is dirty.”

“I don’t think the opinion of some guy in the music industry will cut much weight with Inspector Dyck this afternoon.”

“It doesn’t discredit what we were told, either,” observed Laura.

“And these other guys … Pike the Spike and Killer Rabbit. What’s their story?” asked Rose.

“Nothing on Ben Pike yet,” replied Jack. “I’ll make more inquiries to see if anyone can come up with someone who goes by the nickname of Rabbit.” He gave a small, half-grin and added, “Will probably end up with a lot of Bunnies and no Rabbit.”

“Bunnies?” asked Rose.

“A lot of hookers and strippers use the name Bunny,” said Jack.

“We’re looking for a guy, not a woman,” said Rose.

“You’re being sexist. There are a lot of male prostitutes, not to mention transvestites and —”

“Okay, okay,” said Rose. “I believe you,” she said, putting her hands up for him to stop. “But tell me, is your knowledge of male prostitution and transvestites something you discovered in your off-hours?” she added with a grin.

Jack felt relieved that Rose was joking with him. It made him feel less stressed about the choice he had made to protect the informant. He knew Rose would support him in the meeting with Dyck. But then what? We’ll end up going to the assistant commissioner… and what will he decide?

“Now, about the rapist,” said Rose. “Inspector Dyck seems convinced he will strike again. What are your thoughts on that?”

“I agree with Dyck,” said Jack, gravely. “I think he will cool it for a month or two and start again.”

“And you’re hoping MCU will catch him on their own before then?”

“That would be nice.”

“And if they don’t? After what he told you, he’s liable to change his MO to hide the fact that it’s him.”

“I know. I’ve thought of that,” replied Jack calmly.

“What else have you thought of?”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you. You’re not upset. Means you have a plan. What is it?”

“Well … hang on, my phone.” He glanced at the number. “It’s our new friend.”

“No friend of mine,” Laura muttered.

“Sorry man, it’s only eight-thirty. Too early to call ya?” asked Virgil.

“I told you before,” replied Jack. “It’s never too early or too late. What do you have?”

“Remember when I told you Oskar said they were going to do three more before Christmas and that he would then sell his company and retire?”

“Yes.”

“They’ve already got one of the chumps lined up. In fact, he might already be dead. I couldn’t get his name, but he’s an American from Seattle.”

“Is he in Seattle now?”

“No, that’s why I’m calling you. Last week they sent him to Moscow. Oskar bitched that he should have only got him a one-way ticket, but said he had to make it look good.”

“Isn’t there anything else you can tell me about the guy? What reason did they use to send him to Russia? Did he go alone? Does he have a car? Maybe one left at the airport? Anything?”

“My brother was giving me the hairy eyeball for asking what I did. If I push him any further, he’ll clue in that something’s not right and clam up.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

“He did tell me he is going to recruit another person around the time of the Swiftsure Yacht Race. He’s looking for somebody from the Victoria area.”

“That starts the end of this month. You said three more. If the guy in Russia is one and someone from Victoria is another one, where is the third victim going to be from?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he hasn’t decided yet. I don’t think he wants the chumps to be from the same area. Might get people talking.”

“How does Oskar hire them? Newspaper ads?”

“No. He uses head-hunter agencies. He looks for professional-type people. Someone with credentials ’cause they do legit work, as well. Whoever he picks has to be able to fit in with the white-collar crowd.”

“And the next guy he is hiring is at the end of the month?”

“Yup. Here in Victoria. Oskar mentioned he has some investors coming in for Swiftsure. He wants to see how whoever he is thinking of hiring fits in with them.”

“Does he have any paperwork or stuff lying around that you could see? Names of people, phone numbers, anything?”

“He carries a brief case around. Maybe I could look in it, but if I get caught we’re finished.”

Jack thought about it. If he ordered Virgil to do something and he got caught, it would be Jack’s fault. Virgil would be off the hook and the murder investigation would be compromised because Oskar would be suspicious as to why Virgil was snooping.

“You hear me?” asked Virgil.

“I heard you. Forget about the briefcase. Getting more information on the fellow in Russia is a priority, but you are not to do or say anything if it could possibly compromise the investigation.”

There was a pause and eventually Virgil said, “Okay.”

Jack had the distinct impression from the tone that Virgil was disappointed and felt glad he had told him to leave the briefcase alone. “Are there any problems with you staying and partying with him?”

“No, it wouldn’t be unusual for me to hang out with him for a couple of days,” replied Virgil.

“Do it. If you can, I would like to know what qualities he is looking for in the people he hires.”

“I can find that out, but you might want to tell some of your people to back off me a bit. There was some stupid bitch with a silver bracelet hanging around the dock quite a bit. Oskar didn’t notice yet, but he soon will if she shows up again.”

Jack smiled to himself and felt relieved that Virgil was paranoid. “Special ‘O’ is so secret I don’t even know who most of them are. Older people, younger people. Male and female. They know what they’re doing, so forget about them. Act like they’re not even there. You’ll appear more natural that way.”

Virgil glanced suspiciously at an older couple walking past. Act like they’re not even there! He gripped the phone harder in anger. You have no idea what I will do when they’re not …

After Jack hung up, he relayed what he had been told to Rose and Laura.

“The force doesn’t even have a liaison officer in Russia,” said Rose. “I’m not sure of the procedure. I’ll have to contact Ottawa and see if anything can be done.” She looked at her watch and muttered, “And it’s lunchtime in Ottawa.”

“You try your route,” said Jack, “and I’ll try another angle.”

“You have a contact in Russia?” asked Rose.

“No, but I have one in Cuba who does,” said Jack.

“What is this about Special ‘O’?” asked Rose.

“We lied and told him there was a surveillance team on him,” said Jack, “to keep him on the straight and narrow.”

“How long do you think that ruse will work?” asked Rose. “Eventually he will clue in.”

“We’ll deal with it then. For now, I’m biding time until we can nail Oskar and whoever he takes his orders from.”

Back at his own desk, Jack dug out one of his old notebooks. He and Laura had worked on a human smuggling case a few years earlier and had gone to Cuba. He had befriended a Cuban Intelligence officer who he knew was well connected with Russian authorities. Eventually he found the notation: Donato Castillo — Seguridad de Estado (Security of the State).

Donato was delighted that Jack had called him and after a quick social visit, Jack told him they were investigating people being murdered for insurance money and explained that one potential victim was in Russia.

“It is almost eight o’clock Friday night in Russia,” said Donato.

“Eleven hours ahead of Vancouver,” noted Jack.

“Okay … I understand the urgency. Under the circumstances, I think it best that I have someone from Russia call you. There is no need to waste time by using me as a middle man.”

“You know someone there who speaks English and is a good cop?” asked Jack.

“The speaking-English part is easy. As far as the rest goes … well, it is Friday night. Stay by your phone. I will do my best my friend. Either I will call you back, or someone probably smelling of vodka will.”

A full hour ticked past before Jack got his call. A man who spoke with a heavy Russian accent identified himself as Detective Max Romanov.

Jack gave him a brief outline of the details and said, “I am sorry. Perhaps it’s ridiculous to think you can track down someone we only know as an American from Seattle, but I thought I should give it a try.”

“No so hard, comrade,” replied Romanov. “No so hard. I talk customs and passport control. This place, Seattle, is it big like New York?”

“No, much smaller. Around six hundred thousand people.”

“Six hundred people? That will be easy.”

“No six hundred thousand.”

“Six hundred and a thousand. What is thousand?”

“No … uh, think of it as less than a million.”

“Okay. Million I know. No too many Americans from Seattle who come Moscow. They say cold war over … but American in Russia … well, that is still important. If he work, he need permit. I find him.”

“I’ll give you my cellphone number and my office number,” said Jack. “Please call me immediately if you locate him.”

“Yes, I call you.”

“You might also run the name Ben Pike,” suggested Jack. “It is possible he is there as well, along with the names Merlin and Marlin.”

It was a forty-five-minute drive from Jack’s office to the Major Crime Unit office. Jack, Laura, and Rose left to meet Dyck at twelve-fifteen.

At twelve-twenty, Max Romanov left Jack an urgent message on his office phone. Romanov did not contact Jack on his cellphone.

Chapter Thirteen

Dyck was in his office when Rose, Jack, and Laura arrived and he phoned for Constable Sue McCormick to attend the meeting. Dyck was cordial when Jack introduced Rose and Laura and directed them all to sit in chairs across from his desk.

Amanda’s investigative file was lying on his desk and Jack noticed Dyck tucking the manila folder containing the pictures back into the file as they took their seats. He had obviously been looking at the pictures again. By the look on his face, it was also obvious he was emotionally distraught over the situation.

“Let’s get to the point, shall we?” said Dyck, turning his attention to Jack. “Have you thought things over and are you going to give me the name of your informant?”

“No, sir, as I —”

“I ordered him not to,” interjected Rose.

Jack refrained from giving Rose a sideways glance. It would have made it too obvious that he had not been given that order.

“You ordered him not to?” repeated Dyck, staring at Rose.

Rose nodded. “I believe that, as upsetting as the circumstances surrounding the sexual assaults are, the need to ensure the informant’s co-operation in a more serious investigation preclude disclosure.”

“Have you any idea of the psychological damage the victim has gone through?” asked Dyck, pointing to the file. “I personally think it is outrageous that you would not help me catch this evil bastard. Have you not a shred of moral fibre in you?”

“Sir,” said Jack. “I would be willing to help you catch him if he attempts to strike again, but I gave my word that I would do nothing to assist in this specific case.”

“Really? And what do you intend to do to help?”

“I may be able to assist you to be in a position to be one step ahead if the perpetrator were to attempt to strike again.”

“I’m listening,” replied Dyck.

“First, I need a little information,” he said, looking at McCormick who looked at Dyck for a response.

Dyck nodded.

“You mentioned that there have been other attacks,” said Jack, opening his briefcase and removing the booklet of maps he had purchased the day before. “Are you familiar with those other cases?”

“Very,” McCormick replied. “The other four are ones we have positively matched as being the same culprit. They are also my cases.”

“As you can see, we are not only talking about one victim,” said Dyck, glaring at Rose. “We’re talking at least five. Although one should be plenty enough reason to co-operate with us.”

“I am aware of that,” replied Rose.

“Did the victims all live in apartments and did they all have children?” asked Jack.

“The last three lived in apartments and all had at least one child,” replied McCormick. “The first two lived in houses. Neither of them had children. In fact, the perpetrator almost got caught during the second attack when the husband came home from working until midnight at a convenience store. The perp heard the car pull up in the driveway and fled out the back door.”

“Which may have prompted him to change how he selected his victims,” said Jack. “Did the assaults take place on the weekends?”

“Only some,” said McCormick. “The last three were on Sundays, the second one was on a Monday, and the first one was on a Tuesday. I looked at a list of known offenders for some who may be working and have Sunday and Monday off, but with an assault on a Tuesday, it counteracts that theory.”

“I might have something for you,” said Jack, flipping to certain pages he had tabbed. They were all pages corresponding to the page numbers that Virgil had crossed off on the map booklet in his car. “I’ll show you different sections of the map,” said Jack. “I would like you tell me if your victims lived in the vicinity.”

“Yes, the fourth victim lives on that page,” confirmed McCormick as Jack held the booklet in front of her.

On the second page McCormick said, “Right again. The third victim lives there.” On the third page her reply was, “Nope, nobody there.”

Jack turned to the last page and said, “This one is where Amanda lives.”

“How do you know all this?” asked McCormick.

“It’s the parks,” said Jack. “Your suspect watches for women playing with their children in the parks on weekends. It leads him to the conclusion that they might be single parents. I believe he then follows them to see where they live and perhaps watches their place to confirm they are a single parent before making his move.”

“One of them was negative,” said McCormick, “meaning that another assault went unreported.”

“So how did you know about these specific areas?” asked Dyck.

“The perpetrator has a map with page numbers crossed off. Every page had a park. My guess is he doesn’t target the same area twice. If you do surveillance of other parks on weekends, you might spot him. I think if you flip either ahead or back a few pages, there is a good chance you will find where he would intend to strike next.”

“We don’t even know what he looks like,” said McCormick.

“A guy watching a park looks suspicious to me,” said Jack. “Perhaps he will still have the map and also the knife, but I would suggest you catch him in the act in case —”

“And if you’re wrong and he goes somewhere else?” said Dyck. “Not to mention that we hardly have the manpower to cover off all the parks. What we need, Corporal, is his name, so we can get a search warrant or follow him twenty-four-seven. It is time to quit screwing around!” He glared at Rose and said, “Give me the bastard’s name!”

“As much as I would like to,” said Rose, “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” said Dyck, slapping his hand on the desk in anger.

“Sir,” said Jack, “since we last talked, I believe I’ve uncovered the name of the first murder victim. More importantly, this morning I found out that the latest intended victim … a man from Seattle, is in Russia and may already be dead.”

“And your informant identified this person?”

“Not by name, but the victim is from Seattle and arrived in Moscow last week. I put in an urgent request to the Russian police to try and locate him. I believe the informant is reliable about the murders and feel compelled to uphold my promise not to assist the police in regard to Amanda Evans.”

“If you know about the so-called latest victim, then it sounds to me like you don’t need your informant anymore,” barked Dyck. “If any of this is actually true, at this point you should be able to piece it together without your informant.”

“I told you, I won’t work that way. I gave my word.”

“These other rapes committed by the same perpetrator didn’t involve Amanda,” said Dyck. “Give us the name of who attacked them.”

“No. Doing that would be the same as identifying Amanda’s attacker.”

“This is ridiculous,” said Dyck. He cast a glance at Rose and looked back at Jack and said, “Corporal Taggart, being as I outrank Staff-Sergeant Wood, I will rescind her order for you not to divulge the name. I am now ordering you again to tell me who your informant is.”

“Excuse me, sir,” said Rose. “You do outrank us, but the three of us work in an Intelligence Unit on highly sensitive investigations. It involves organized crime, crooked politicians, judges, police officers … that’s just to name a few.”

“I really couldn’t care less,” snapped Dyck. “I outrank you, so consider it an order.”

“Let me point out,” said Rose, “that our security clearance is above yours. That, I believe, leaves us with some prerogative in what we decide to divulge.”

Jack looked at Rose with greater respect. It was an angle he hadn’t considered.

“That’s nonsense,” said Dyck. “I am a commissioned officer. I have top-secret clearance.”

“Sir, with all due respect there is a level above T-S,” said Rose. “Which everyone in my unit has.”

“Is that true?” Dyck asked, shocked.

“S-A,” said Jack.

Dyck looked back and forth at Rose and Jack. “S-A? What the hell is that?”

“Stands for special access,” said Rose. “Few people have it.”

Dyck was quiet for a moment, then glared at Rose. “Well, you better be telling me the truth, because the next meeting I will be scheduling will be with Assistant Commissioner Isaac!”

As soon as Jack, Laura, and Rose arrived back at their own office, the secretary told them that they were scheduled for a meeting with Assistant Commissioner Isaac and Inspector Dyck at nine o’clock Monday morning.

“He’s not a bad guy, really,” sighed Rose.

“Who?” asked Jack.

“The big dick. He’s compassionate and trying to do his job.”

“Think Isaac will back us?”

“Normally I would think so, but this is a really ugly situation. I don’t know. It could go either way.”

“You know I won’t divulge the informant’s name,” said Jack, adamantly.

“Then unless you’re thinking of switching to another career, it might be a good idea to get back to work. Maybe try to dig up more evidence to show that Paul Jennings didn’t really fall off his ladder through a plate glass window. At least not without some help.”

Minutes later, Jack returned to his own desk and discovered the urgent message to call Max Romanov. He dialled the number immediately.

“Yes, comrade. I call you two hour before,” complained Romanov.

“You should have called me on my cellphone.”

“I try. Number no good.”

Jack had Romanov repeat the number and corrected him on a number that was missing.

“Okay, maybe next time work,” said Romanov. “I have good news. I find your American. He’s name is Lorne Welsh. He in hotel here in Moscow. Room 812. Ben Pike stay in same hotel. Room 904.”

“Excellent! That is terrific,” said Jack. “Good work.”

“What you want I should do?”

“That’s really up to you how you want to handle it. It’s in your jurisdiction.”

“Okay, but if I help you, maybe I come to Canada to tell judge, yes?”

“If this goes to a murder conspiracy, you might be called to Canada to testify,” said Jack.

“And you pay for trip, yes?”

“Of course. Airline ticket. Hotels, meals, and expenses.”

“Good. What you think I should do now?”

“Do you know if Welsh is in his room?”

“I call room one hour ago to pretend I make mistake call. His phone busy.”

“Good. I would go to Welsh and warn him and see if he will co-operate. We need evidence. I would ensure there is a surveillance on him at all times. With his permission you could bug his room with audio and video.”

“His permission to do that? Why permission? You make joke?”

“Uh, yeah, guess things are different there. I would also suggest you get a room next to him for security. If there is any hint that things are leading up to something, you will need to save him. I am told they will try to make his death look like an accident.”

“Okay, I do what you ask.”

“How long is he booked into the hotel?”

“I don’t know. Hotel cheap. Not good. Many criminal go there. Police ask question and hotel no keep secret.”

“I understand. Please call me to let me know how it goes.”

“I call you in maybe one hour.”

Chapter Fourteen

Lorne Welsh spoke at length on the phone to his wife, Lindsay. He was pleased with what he had discovered and told her what he had learned since arriving in Russia.

“Think about it,” he said, “I’ve only been on the job two months and uncovered what could turn out to be a real fiasco for investors if they had decided to invest in the place I looked at. I bet Oskar will be pleased.”

“And the factory you were looking at makes car parts?”

“We wondered how they could produce things so cheap, now I know. It’s a huge factory west of a Russian city called Novozybkov. Over a thousand people were hired to work there in the last two years. They practically pay nothing for overhead and the wages are atrocious, even by Russian standards.”

“What twigged you to go back with a Geiger counter?”

“A tourist company in Novozybkov wanted to know if I would be interested in going into Chernobyl. It isn’t far from Novozybkov.”

“They take tourists there?” exclaimed Lindsay.

“For a quick visit to certain spots. The radiation is still too high in many areas.”

“Doesn’t strike me as a place I would want to go.”

“Me either, but I guess some people do. I imagine it is pretty eerie. A big city that was cleared out after one day. Sort of like a huge ghost town. Anyway, the factory I was checking out was in the prevailing wind path from Chernobyl. For how cheap the factory was being leased, well, I had a bad feeling and checked it out myself.”

“How could they allow that? To let people go in and work there?”

“I think some money must have been passed under the table for these guys to be allowed to open a factory there. The Russian mafia is pretty strong. The plant manager was upset when I brought out the Geiger counter.”

“You think he would be pleased. You might be saving his life, not to mention how many others.”

“I suspect the plant manager doesn’t spend a lot of time there. When the needle went into the danger zone, he tried to tell me it was a fluke, that sometimes the wind brought over a small trace of radiation and gave a false reading, but that was bullshit.”

“Hope you didn’t hang out there too long.”

Lorne chuckled. “Don’t worry, my hair isn’t falling out. Still,” he added, turning sombre, “I feel real sorry for the workers. Not only with working in that environment, but the economy is pretty bad here. Jobs are scarce. I feel bad about it, but I have to recommend it be taken off the list for ethical investments.”

“So when are you coming home? We miss you.”

“I miss you, too. They want me to stay a few days longer. With what I discovered, it’s possible they might be forced to shut down the plant and relocate somewhere else.”

“That would be good.”

“I have my doubts that it will happen, but they want me to talk to the head honchos in Moscow on Monday to see what they say. I bet they already knew about it. My guess is I’ll be flying home on Tuesday.”

“Just you and that security guy there?”

“Yeah, Ben Pike. What a disgusting creep he is. Kept trying to line me up with a hooker last night.”

“What a jerk.”

“No kidding. At least he’s leaving tomorrow. He was only here to ensure my security when I had to go out to the plant. I don’t need the likes of him around when I talk to the people on Monday. Anybody with any class would shun him.”

“Which is why they hired you. You’re a classy guy.”

“You got that right.” Lorne laughed. “And don’t you forget it.”

A few minutes after Lorne said goodbye, he answered a knock at his door. It was a grinning Ben Pike who stood there with a half-full bottle of vodka.

“Seeing as I’m heading out in the morning, how about a drink with me before I go,” he said, pushing past Lorne as he entered the room.

“I’m pretty tired,” said Lorne. “How about another time.”

“Might not have another time,” said Pike. “I’m only on contract, who knows when we’ll get to work again.”

“It’s really late.”

“Come on, just one,” said Pike. “I feel like I owe ya an apology for how I acted last night. I don’t know what got into me. I drank too much and got stupid.”

“It’s okay. Let’s forget about it.”

“It’s okay? Good!” smiled Pike. “So no hard feelings? You sure?”

“No hard feelings.”

“Then you will have a drink with me,” said Pike, walking over to a table with two chairs as he unscrewed the cap.

Loren sighed. “Just one,” he said, retrieving two glasses from the bathroom and putting them on the table. He watched as Pike poured a generous amount in each one. “Easy does it,” said Lorne. “Smooth or not, I’m still not used to drinking that stuff straight.”

“I think the trick is not to sip it. Treat it like a shooter.”

“Don’t know if I could handle doing that.” Lorne chuckled.

The two men sat down and Pike said, “I came by earlier and was about to knock, but it sounded like you were talking to someone on the phone.”

“I phoned Lindsay. Also was lucky enough to catch the kids at home from school on their lunch break.”

“Everything okay there?”

“Oh, yeah. Life is good.”

“Must be nice to have a family. What ya got? Boys or girls?”

“One of each,” smiled Lorne, taking a sip of vodka and making a face.

“Told you to chug it,” grinned Pike. “Try it,” he said, raising his glass. “When in Rome…”

Lorned smiled good-naturedly and joined Pike in drinking it all at once.

“Yeah, that’s the way to do it,” said Pike, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “So tell me about your kids. How old are they?”

“Kelsey is in grade seven and Matt is in grade six.”

“Got pictures of ’em?”

“You bet,” said Lorne, pulling out his wallet and putting Kelsey’s and Matt’s school pictures on the table, before taking out a third picture of him and Lindsay together.

“Nice family,” said Pike, pouring them each another drink.

“Hey, one of those was enough for me,” said Welsh.

“Ah, come on. This will be the last one for me too, then I’m gone.”

“You go ahead. I’ve —”

“Bet you miss your kids,” interrupted Pike.

“Yeah, I really miss being apart from them. Wish I was heading home tomorrow too.”

“Actually I have some good news for you,” said Pike, standing up and looking out the balcony door. “You will be catching an earlier flight.”

“I will?” said Lorne in surprise.

“Yeah, stand up. I got something to show you.”

When Lorne got to his feet, Pike drove his fist deep into Lorne’s solar plexus, causing him to double over as the air exploded from his lungs. Pike’s next move was to ram the palm of his hand under Lorne’s chin, while delivering a blow with his other hand to the base of Lorne’s neck, breaking it instantly.

Before Lorne’s body could fall, Pike grabbed him by the arm and silently lowered him to the floor.

Pike smiled. “Yup, your flight is leaving right now.”

Chapter Fifteen

It was four o’clock Friday afternoon when Jack checked his watch. He knew it was only three o’clock in the morning in Moscow and would likely be a few hours before he heard back from Romanov. He looked across his desk at Laura and asked, “How you feeling?”

“Tired,” she admitted.

“Me, too. Let’s pack it in until Monday morning.”

“You don’t have to twist my arm on that. Do you think on Monday Isaac will order us disclose the identity?”

“If we are, how do you feel about that?” asked Jack.

“Same as you. Mixed feelings. I really want him to go to jail, but I want to catch these other guys before they do any more murders.” Laura saw Jack staring glumly down at his desk. She reached over and patted his hand and said, “Don’t worry, if ordered to divulge, I will refuse, same as you.”

“I’m not worried about you,” replied Jack. “You should know by now that I trust you implicitly.”

“Likewise, so what’s troubling you?”

“I was thinking of Amanda. Having met her and seen her picture … it kind of got to me.”

“Her picture?” asked Laura.

“Dyck showed me a photo taken of her immediately after her attack. Guess he thought it would prompt me to give him the name.”

“What a jerk.”

“He’s got a point, though,” said Jack. “We can’t let him strike again. We better be prepared to put some hours in and catch him the next time he goes to a park.”

“I’m all for that, but who knows how long it will take? You said yourself that we have probably scared him off for a month or two.”

“If he thinks we’re watching him, he will behave.”

“But he knows there’s no way we can watch him forever,” said Laura.

“I’m positive he will strike again,” said Jack bitterly. “It is all a question of when.”

“That would be the million-dollar question. Hopefully not until we are done investigating Oskar.”

“That would be nice.”

“Say we were done with Oskar. We still can’t spend the rest of our lives watching Virgil twenty-four-seven.”

“I know.” Jack gave Laura a hard look and said, “We won’t. Trust me on that.”

“Trust you?”

Jack nodded solemnly.

Jack was pulling into his garage when he saw Natasha walking down the sidewalk, holding hands with Mike and Steve. When he stepped from the car Natasha let go and both boys ran to meet him.

“Where were you?” asked Jack, after scooping a boy up in each arm and bouncing them.

“Mommy took us to the park,” said Steve.

“The park?” replied Jack, trying to sound enthused as the hair on the back of his neck tingled.

“I climbed the bars,” said Steve.

“You did? Well aren’t you the little spider monkey!”

The boys continued to chatter, but Jack tuned them out as they all went into the house. His initial fear for his family was quickly replaced with anger. Anger at a situation over which he had little control. He felt like he was sliding into a dark abyss. It was his decision … but was it the right decision and what would the future bring?

“Jack? Want to talk about it?” asked Natasha from the bedroom doorway.

“About what?” Jack replied automatically, trying to snap out of his reverie. He realized he was standing in the bedroom, staring at his pistol that he had placed in the dresser drawer. His memory of the last few minutes of greeting Natasha and walking inside were a blur.

“I said do you want to talk about it?” repeated Natasha. “I can tell that something bad has happened. Can you talk to me about it?”

Jack sighed. “I can give you the basic details.”

They sat on the bed and Jack told Natasha about how he and Laura turned a new informant and how the informant tried to prove his credibility by admitting to raping Amanda.

Natasha cringed, closing her eyes when she heard.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “Maybe I shouldn’t be unloading on to you.”

“I don’t like it because of how awful it is, but I like it less when you shut me out,” she replied. “At least I understand what is bugging you. We’re a family, we should be able to go to each other when we’re upset. I’ve come to you in the past.”

“What was worse was when I went to Amanda’s apartment block to check on the informant’s credibility, I had a chance encounter with her and her three-year-old daughter, Megan.”

“She has a daughter? You spoke to them?”

“Yes. Amanda wanted me to promise that I would catch the guy who attacked her. Christ, he was sitting in my car only a block away at the time.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Nothing, I was too shook up. She saw that I was and thought it was because I really wanted to catch the guy. She was really compassionate toward me. Made me feel worse.”

“Well, she’s right that you’re upset. I bet you do want to nail the guy.”

“Nail him? I’d like to nail his balls to a stump and push him over backwards. I hate being in this position.”

“What does Rose think about it? Or does she know?”

“She knows,” replied Jack. He told Natasha about Dyck and the upcoming meeting on Monday morning with Assistant Commissioner Isaac.

“Well, thanks for telling me,” said Natasha.

“Thanks for listening,” said Jack, wondering if he felt better or worse for unloading on Natasha. Partly he felt weak that he couldn’t be psychologically strong enough to handle the situation and momentarily despised his insecurities. Another part told him that Natasha was his best friend and that he should be able to confide in her. He would be angry if the tables were turned and she hadn’t reached out to him. In his heart, he knew he would never survive in this line of work without her support.

“Now what are you thinking?” asked Natasha.

“About how much I love you and how lost I would be without you.”

“That sounds like a pat answer,” replied Natasha.

“It isn’t really. It’s straight from the heart. I respect your opinion.”

“Back at ya, big guy,” said Natasha, kissing Jack on the cheek.

Jack pulled away. Despite opening up to Natasha, he had not yet found the answer he was looking for. “Do you think I made the right decision? What would you have done?”

Natasha looked thoughtful. “I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter what anyone else would have done. Your decision was made in good faith. Let’s hope you can learn to live with it.”

“It’s really eating away at me,” admitted Jack.

“You wouldn’t be human if it didn’t.”

“Guess I better make sure I catch the people behind these murders.”

“That might help, but I doubt it would ever completely ease your conscience.”

“I think you’re right about that.”

“You’re also really tired. You’ve hardly slept all week. Maybe by Monday morning you will feel a little more refreshed.”

“Yeah, maybe that’s —”

Jack’s cellphone rang and he quickly answered when he saw that it was Romanov.

“Bad news comrade,” said Romanov. “Your American is dead. It only happen, maybe ten minutes before I got to hotel.”

“What happened?”

“He go over balcony. Smash head on sidewalk. I think American name Ben Pike, grab him and throw him over.”

“Any witnesses?”

“People on sidewalk almost get hit, but say when look up … do not see anybodies.”

“Where is Ben Pike?”

“He in room for interview. I talk to him. He say Welsh commit suicide. He say Welsh tell him he upset because maybe he have disease from prostitute. Pike drink with Welsh before it happen and hear this. Pike say he talk to him and think everything okay and go back to his room.”

“I think Pike is lying.”

“Welsh have pictures of his wife and two kids on table in his room, beside empty vodka bottle. Maybe he depressed.”

“That is what Pike wants you to think.” Jack thought of the first victim, Paul Jennings. Another man murdered with a family left behind …

“Maybe,” replied Romanov. “But we have no evidence on Pike. I tell him somebody in next room hear him fight with Welsh. It is a lie, but I try to, how you say … shake Pike up. He no afraid. He say he no fight at all. He not even ask to talk to American embassy.”

“Did any witnesses hear Welsh yelling when he was falling? Eight floors is quite a height.”

“Nobody hear nothing until big splat.”

“Then he was probably dead or unconscious before he was thrown over.”

“Unless real suicide,” said Romanov.

“I feel certain it wasn’t.”

“Okay. Maybe you are right. You want me arrest Pike? I make him talk.”

“That wouldn’t help us. We would never be able to get his confession admitted in court if it was given to you under duress.”

“Under my dress?” replied Romanov angrily. “I am a man! What you think? I am woman prostitute who —”

“Duress! It means what you would do to Pike to get him to talk.”

Romanov paused for a moment. “Oh, now I understand. You think I make him wear dress, he talk?”

“That’s not —”

“Never before I hear that. Other prisoners beat him,” said Romanov, thoughtfully. “That maybe work.”

“No, not dress,” said Jack, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. “The word just sounds the same. It means anything you would do to him to make him talk if he did not want to talk to you.”

“Oh. No worry. I just beat him. I no kill him.”

“I know. We call that duress. That would really hurt our case. If we are going to catch the guys he works for in Canada and the United States, we need to go about this my way.”

“What is your way?” asked Romanov.

“Wiretap. For that, I want you to let Pike go. I need the bad guys to be relaxed and think they are getting away with it.”

“Will you still need me to come to Canada?”

“Yes, for sure if it goes to court. Maybe the United States, too.”

“Okay comrade. I no put Ben Pike in a dress. I let him go.”

“Thank you. One more thing. You said you had pictures of Welsh’s wife and kids. Please scan and email me copies.”

“Okay, comrade. I do that. I also send you picture of body that go splat on sidewalk.”

Jack’s frustration continued to build after he hung up. Welsh’s death was proof that he was on the right track. Except he would still be alive if I hadn’t been wasting my time talking to Inspector Dyck …

Jack felt his need for vengeance grow. He thought about the pictures that Romanov would be sending him. Am I doing the right thing about using them? … damn rights I am …

Chapter Sixteen

Jack and Rose arrived at Assistant Commissioner Isaac’s receptionist’s office at precisely nine o’clock Monday morning and were directed into his office.

Dyck was already seated in a sitting area around a coffee table with Isaac. Jack caught a slight grin on Rose’s face when she heard Isaac telling the inspector that his security clearance really was lower than everyone on the Intelligence Unit.

Dyck remained silent as Isaac gave a cordial greeting and gestured for everyone to sit down.

“As I understand it,” said Isaac, “Corporal Taggart has an informant who knows the identity of a serial rapist … or is in fact that rapist, is that true?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Jack.

“And you refuse to identify the informant because of information you were given concerning five murders,” continued Isaac.

“Of which I am told only one death has ever been discovered,” said Dyck. “Not only was it classified as accidental, it relates to some guy who fell off a ladder putting up Christmas lights eight years ago in Los Angeles.” Dyck glared at Rose and said emphatically, “What can be proven is that the serial rapist we are after, is currently very active in our country!”

“I have received more information over the weekend,” said Jack, opening up his briefcase. “On Friday I received information from the informant that an American from Seattle was about to be murdered in Russia. I made inquir-ies and a Russian detective located the man in a hotel in Moscow.”

“You made and received inquiries to and from Russia that fast?” said Isaac.

“Uh, yes, sir. I didn’t feel there was time to go through Ottawa.”

“How did you manage to pull that off … or is it a need-to-know basis?” Isaac asked, with a sideways glance at Dyck.

“How I did it is not a secret. I simply have a friend who is a Communist Intelligence officer.”

“I see,” replied Isaac. He looked at Dyck and said, “And he thinks contacting Russia or having a friend who is a Communist Intelligence officer is not a secret … makes you wonder what he really does or knows that rates S-A clearance, doesn’t it?”

Dyck looked sheepish and nodded.

“Please continue,” said Isaac, returning his attention back to Jack.

“The Russian detective tried to call me early Friday afternoon, but I was delayed in a meeting for two hours, so he left a message on my office phone and held off doing anything until I returned from the meeting. When I got his message, I called him immediately and suggested he take protective security measures.”

Silence descended as Jack removed some photos from his briefcase. “The man’s name is Lorne Welsh. The first picture is of his wife and him.” Jack paused after he dropped the picture onto the coffee table to let them glance at it. “This second picture is of their two children.”

“Nice-looking kids,” commented Isaac, while raising one eyebrow as he glanced at Jack.

You’re damn rights something is up … “The last picture is of Welsh again,” continued Jack, “although his face is tough to recognize after he went over the side of the eighth-floor balcony of his hotel room.”

Isaac and Dyck were seasoned policemen, but the sight of Welsh’s shattered, bloody corpse next to the pictures of his wife and children left them both visibly shaken.

Jack sat back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest and stared at Dyck. Now you know how I felt when you shoved Amanda’s picture in my face …

“Unfortunately, the Russian detective missed Welsh’s demise by approximately ten minutes,” said Rose.

“If I had not been delayed at a meeting, I think he would still be alive,” added Jack. He knew it was an obvious comment, but still took satisfaction in rubbing it in.

Dyck picked up the pictures of the children and his hands shook as he glanced back at the picture of Welsh on the sidewalk.

“If the informant is accurate,” continued Jack, “Welsh takes the murder tally to six. The informant says two more victims are being selected to be murdered in the next couple of months. Both Canadian.”

“The meeting you were at,” muttered Isaac, “I hope it was important.”

Jack saw that the inspector was still staring at the photos. His hand was trembling and his face was pale. He did not appear to be listening to the conversation. Jack felt a wave of emotion. I’m an asshole. This guy really cares.

“Corporal Taggart?” prodded Isaac.

“The meeting was with Major Crimes,” said Jack. “I was seeking assistance in regard to how to investigate the murders, as well as what could be done to stop the rapist, without putting justice into disrepute by breaking my promise to the informant.”

“No,” said Dyck, shaking his head. “That is not right. Sir, I had called that meeting in an effort to find out who the serial rapist was. This,” he said, with a nod toward the photographs, “is entirely my fault.”

Isaac stared silently back and forth at Dyck and Jack for a moment, then cleared his throat. “The context of the meeting or who called it is irrelevant. What is done is done. What we need to do is focus on what I see as being two separate investigations. One of murder and one of rape. In regard to the murders, is there an operational plan in place?”

“Not on paper yet, sir, but I am formulating a plan on how to proceed,” replied Jack. “The only Canadian murdered, so far, is from Vancouver, but I do not yet have any evidence that any of the murders were committed on Canadian soil.”

“Then get your plan on paper,” replied Isaac. “Presumably it will include working with foreign authorities.”

Jack nodded.

Isaac stared at the photos a moment longer, before looking back at Jack and saying, “I take it you also have a plan in regard to the serial rapist?”

Jack nodded again.

“Sir,” interjected Dyck. “That investigation is under the control of Major Crimes.”

“Of course it is,” replied Isaac, while staring at Jack. “Let me say, however, that under the circumstances, I concur with the decision not to disclose the name of the informant.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Jack.

“My opinion has also changed, sir,” said Dyck quietly, while continuing to stare at the photos. “I agree completely,” he mumbled.

“Good,” replied Isaac. He looked at the inspector and cleared his throat to get his attention. “I realize that you are in charge of the investigation concerning the serial rapist. That being said, I am sure you are not opposed if Corporal Taggart should decide, whether now, or in the future, that he may be able to assist you. Should that happen, I would expect that he be given full access to the file if need be.”

“I would be glad to accommodate any action that would bring positive results,” said Dyck.

“The lead investigator in MCU is Constable Sue McCormick,” said Jack. “I expect to liase with her when the time is right.”

“Actually, Corporal Taggart has already given us some information to indicate the rapist may select

his victims by watching playgrounds,” conceded Dyck. “The problem is coming up with the manpower required for the number of playgrounds to watch. It would be better if we knew who the suspect was and do surveillance on him.”

“Unfortunately, we can’t always get what we want,” said Isaac.

“It might assist if I were to see the criminal profiler reports on the rapist,” suggested Jack.

Dyck glanced at Jack. “Corporal Crane and Constable McCormick are waiting in the cafeteria. McCormick brought the profile reports with her.”

“They’re not with you?” asked Isaac, gesturing to the briefcase that Dyck had set beside his chair.

“Uh, no. I have some photographs, but Constable McCormick has the bulk of the file with her in a box.”

“You were planning on using the photos as leverage to get the rapist’s name if things didn’t go your way?” asked Isaac.

Dyck’s ears turned crimson. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry. I realize that wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“Sounds like you a Corporal Taggart think alike,” said Isaac, gesturing to the photos of the Welsh family.

Jack swallowed and felt his own ears turning warm.

“I suspect Corporal Taggart showed these pictures out of retaliation because I had already done the same to him earlier,” admitted Dyck. “It’s my fault that we seem to have gotten off to a bad start.”

“Clearing the air is a good start,” said Isaac. “Perhaps now, we can have a fresh beginning.”

Dyck and Jack looked at each other and nodded.

Isaac turned his attention to Rose. “As far as the murder investigation goes and considering the informant’s involvement, how do you propose working with Major Crimes on the issue? Ultimately, homicide is their mandate.”

Rose looked to Jack for guidance.

“I have no issues with us investigating that as a joint project,” said Jack. “With the information we have, I don’t know if we could get a wiretap yet, but it would be nice to try. I would suggest that MCU handle that end as it would keep us more in the background and alleviate exposure in court.”

“Any concern about your informant being identified on the wire?” asked Isaac.

Jack shook his head and said, “I don’t anticipate that the informant would be identified any more than countless other people that Oskar Cruickshank would contact.”

“I’m happy with that suggestion,” said Dyck. “I’ll get my office started on the paperwork immediately.”

After murmurs of agreement, Isaac said, “I take it you can all get back to work now. Good luck, everyone.” As they were about to get up, he added, “Corporal Taggart, I would like you to stay a moment longer, the rest of you may go.”

Isaac waited until the office cleared before addressing Jack. “A moment ago, I asked you if you had a plan in regard to the serial rapist. You nodded but never articulated what it was.”

“I have been giving it considerable thought, sir.”

“Anything you would like to share with me?”

“I am still working on it. I don’t have all my ducks in a row yet.”

“I found this to be an extremely upsetting matter to consider. I am still questioning whether or not I made the right decision.”

“So am I, sir. The thing is, we need time to investigate the murders, which may also require assistance from the informant.”

“I take it your informant is the rapist?”

“Yes, sir, he is,” admitted Jack.

“Time is something we may not have. It would sicken me if this man were to attack another victim.”

“It would sicken me, too, sir. But I am confident I have him under control at the moment. It’s more of a time issue, to catch the murderers before he ultimately puts himself in a position to be arrested. If he is caught prior to our conclusion of the murder investigation, my fear is that he may tip the murderers off that we are on to them.”

“How confident are you that you have him under control?”

Jack sighed. “I understand the political fallout that could arise.”

“Do you? The press would have a field day if they found out that we actually gave a serial rapist immunity and allowed him to strike again.”

“I know, sir. Let’s say that I am confident enough to say that if he does attack again, my resignation will be on your desk.”

Isaac stared at Jack a moment and said, “I know you are not the type to break your promises, so let me tell you that if he gets away with raping another woman, your resignation would be welcomed.”

Jack nodded that he understood.

“Your confidence also leads me to question your methods.”

“My methods?”

“Let’s say that I trust your plan will eventually culminate in his arrest and that he will be tried in a court of law.”

“Yes, sir, my plan is to have him arrested by Major Crimes.”

After Jack left, Isaac pressed his fingers to his lips and thought about it. I actually believe him. Am I getting senile in my old age?

Chapter Seventeen

Jack returned to his office, but saw that Laura was on the phone so he went to Rose’s office. Dyck, Connie Crane, and Sue McCormick were also there. Rose looked at Jack and raised her eyebrows.

“Isaac wanted to impress upon me the importance of having the rapist arrested and tried in a court of law,” Jack responded.

Rose’s voice sounded brittle when she replied. “I would certainly agree with that.”

“We all would,” said Dyck. “It is hardly something we need reminding of,” he added, puzzled that Isaac would even make such a comment.

Connie stared blandly at the inspector. He did not know Jack’s background or how many criminals who had died coincidental to his investigation before they could be arrested. Yeah … coincidental my ass …

Dyck shrugged it off, looked at Jack and asked, “Why did you try to protect me in there? Making it sound like it was your idea to have the meeting last Friday when you missed the call?”

“Thought maybe I could hold it over your head and blackmail you into becoming my informant,” replied Jack.

“What?”

Connie snickered, but Rose frowned at Jack before turning to the inspector. “Sir, he did it because he knows you care. He knows you want to see the bad guys go to jail. We all do.”

“I see that now,” replied Dyck. “I have to admit, this has been something of a learning experience for me.” He cleared his throat. “So, where do we go from here in regard to the murder investigation? I agree that getting a wiretap is crucial, but we likely need more than that.”

“Watching them kill their next victims isn’t exactly an option,” said Connie.

Dyck looked at Jack. “Corporal Taggart, do you have any thoughts on the matter? Sorry, do you mind if I call you Jack?”

“That’s nicer than what I have been referring to you as,” replied Jack.

“The big dick?” asked Dyck with a smile.

McCormick’s gasp was audible.

Jack gave a lopsided grin and said, “I had the feeling it wasn’t original.”

“I think my dad was the first one to call me that when I was still a teenager,” said Dyck. “It embarrassed the hell out of me at the time, but now I’m used to it. Before I was commissioned, the people I worked with called me that.”

“Sounds like a term of endearment,” mused Rose.

“It sort of was. But that was then and this is now,” warned Dyck. “Having reached the —” he paused, holding his fingers above his head like quotation marks “— all-mighty rank of an inspector, I have to lose that title.”

Jack smiled and said, “Consider it lost.” He knew he had been wrong about his first impression of the inspector.

“I have some news,” said Laura, as she arrived, rolling an extra chair into the office. “Commercial Crime got back to me. They identified a million-dollar corporate insurance payoff to Oskar Cruickshank for an employee from Vancouver who died in a scuba-diving accident in the Bahamas. His name was David Lee. It happened four years ago.”

“Jennings, Lee, and Welsh,” said Jack. “Does anyone still think the informant is lying?”

“I would say not,” admitted Dyck.

“So that’s three out of six,” noted Rose. “Who are the others?”

“Perhaps the other three were in the States,” concluded Laura.

“Might find out who they are later,” said Jack. “I’ve got calls in to the U.S. on that.”

“Or could be that whoever Oskar answers to in this venture has his own company,” suggested Rose.

“Mr. Merlin or Marlin,” said Jack. “We definitely need to identify him.”

“So what is the game plan?” asked Dyck.

Jack turned to Connie. “You are a lot more experienced at getting wiretaps in regard to homicide cases than I am. I don’t know if you have been filled in yet as to what transpired in Russia?”

“I bumped into Connie and Sue this morning while you were at the meeting,” said Laura. “They are both up-to-date.”

Connie sighed and said, “To be frank, I sincerely doubt that we could get the application for wiretap past a Crown prosecutor at this point. They won’t chance the embarrassment of bringing it to a judge if they think it won’t be signed.”

“We’ve identified three victims,” said McCormick.

“Yes, but the victims we know about have been investigated by the police departments concerned and their deaths were ruled accidental.” Connie looked at Jack. “Your informant, and correct me if I’m wrong, has not been involved in previous cases to prove a history of credibility. Is that right?”

“That is right,” said Jack. “This is his first time.”

“And is his willingness to help because of immunity from prosecution?” asked Connie.

“It is,” admitted Jack.

“Which a judge would say gives him a motive to lie about something,” replied Connie.

Jack’s tone indicated his frustration. “I thought of that, which is why I demanded credibility. He gave it. The informant is in fact the serial rapist and did admit it to prove credibility.”

“Thought so,” mumbled McCormick.

“Which opens up a real Pandora’s box for a judge to look at,” said Connie. “Rather than aiding his credibility, a judge may think the opposite.”

“Why does that not surprise me,” said Jack, bitterly.

“I can run it past a prosecutor,” said Connie. “But my experience tells me that you would definitely need more than a guy falling off a ladder, a scuba accident, and someone committing suicide in Russia to convince a judge that Oskar should have his privacy rights violated.”

“What if I come up with three more names?” asked Jack. “Perhaps in the U.S.?”

Connie slowly shook her head and said, “If we are going back eight years, that is a long time. How many other accidental deaths … real ones, I mean, would have been paid out by insurance companies in that time? I still doubt it would change anything.”

Jack leaned forward in his chair and stared at Connie. “The informant called me yesterday to tell me about the guy going off the balcony in Russia. I already knew, but the informant didn’t know that.”

“So?” asked Connie.

“So it means that Oskar knew about the guy going off the balcony shortly after it happened. It would have been nice to have a wiretap and hear who told him.”

“He’s the president of the company, it would be expected that he would be told.”

“That, yes, but —”

Connie raised her hand, gesturing for Jack to stop. “I agree with you that someone connected to the dirty deed may have contacted him. But tell me, if it was over a telephone or email, would that person have said enough to incriminate them?”

“Probably not,” said Jack, “but I was still hoping to get approval so we could get a bug for a car or in a room. Maybe even on Oskar’s boat. A wire might also identify who is pulling Oskar’s strings.”

“The informant indicates that Oskar and company will be hiring and killing two more victims in the next few months and then retire,” said Laura. “What are we supposed to do? Wait until they’re murdered? At that time we won’t need a wiretap, because they will be retired. Talk about building a pension plan.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” said Connie. “I’m only telling you what will happen if you try to apply for a wiretap at the moment. If a judge does refuse to sign it, you may have an even harder time getting it signed later.”

“The informant said Oskar plans to hire his next victim from Victoria at the end of the month,” said Jack. “How would it be if I am the one he hires?”

“Use yourself as bait?” said Dyck, looking at Rose as if he expected she would immediately reject any such suggestion.

“Exactly,” replied Jack. He glanced at the inspector and said, reassuringly, “It’s okay. I am a trained UC operator.”

“What chance do you think you would have of being selected?” asked Rose.

“The informant will be able to fill me in as to what kind of person Oskar is looking for. As far as corporate-type stuff, Commercial Crime should be able to help. Perhaps even use their contacts to build me a decent resumé.”

“You in a suit and tie with the white-collar crowd,” said Connie, shaking her head, chuckling. “That would be quite the transformation.”

“I can do it,” Jack said confidently. “I’ve worked the white-collar types before. Actually they’re not as astute as the junkies and hookers when it comes to reading people. I’ve got almost two weeks. Gives me time to take a crash course in how to talk the latest white-collar gossip. I’ll be able to blend in with the corporate types, so don’t worry about that.”

“Sounds like My Fair Lady,” replied Rose.

“Besides,” added Jack, “I doubt Oskar would ask difficult questions if the resumé is good. It isn’t like he plans on keeping me. As a new guy, I should be able to muddle through any assignments enough to get by until they decide to kill me. Again, I’ll use Commercial Crime to help out if need be.”

“But you’re setting yourself up to be murdered!” said Dyck.

“Yeah, can you try and make sure it happens in someone else’s jurisdiction?” asked Connie. “We’re kind of overworked as it is.”

Jack ignored Connie’s humour and looked at Dyck, asking, “Do you have a better idea?”

Dyck looked for at the others for an answer. Their bland faces said they didn’t have one. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “No,” he replied, “but what you are proposing sounds extremely risky.”

“It’s more risky if Oskar hires someone else,” said Jack.

Dyck nodded silently in agreement.

“Good, let’s do it,” said Jack.

“Do you know Victoria well enough to make it look like you live there?” asked Dyck.

“My wife and I have friends who live in Westshore, which is like a bedroom community for Victoria. Over the years we have gone there quite a bit. I know the local layout pretty well, including a few golf courses, restaurants, pubs, shopping … enough to get by.”

“What if you run into your friends?” asked Dyck.

“Bill and Marlene Earl,” smiled Jack. “Not a problem. He works for a specialized branch of the navy and has one of the highest security ratings there is. S-A for sure,” he added, with a glance at Rose who pursed her lips to keep from smiling. “They can be trusted,” added Jack, confidently.

Dyck frowned. “One of these days I would really like to get that special access security clearance to find out what else you two aren’t telling me.”

“Maybe someday they’ll make my position an inspector rank,” suggested Rose.

Dyck grinned. “Would you be allowed to tell me if they did?”

Rose smiled in response.

Dyck turned his attention back to Jack. “What if you’re not hired? What then?”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” said Jack. “But if I am, better me than some poor chump who doesn’t know what’s going on. The fact that I do know gives me an edge.”

“Let’s say you’re hired,” said Connie. “If someone gets into a fistfight with you, it’s hardly proof of intent to murder. If they come at you with a weapon, it may be too late to save you.”

“I definitely want a good cover team nearby at all times,” said Jack. “The informant says they hire others to do the hits and make them look accidental.”

“One of those guys is obviously Ben Pike,” said Rose. “It would certainly be nice to identify the others.”

“I agree with you there. From what we know so far, weapons haven’t been used. If someone tries to throw me off a balcony, my idea is that we grab him, convince him to co-operate and get him to wear a wire against who hired him.”

“Hard for a cover team to protect you if you’re scuba-diving,” said Dyck.

“No worries. I’ll make it clear that I’m a non-swimmer, afraid of water, and most other things, such as mountain-climbing. I’ll come across as weak and easy to kill.”

“Your history indicates that you are anything but easy to kill,” mused Connie. “Someone could be in for a big surprise.”

“If I have a good cover team along with surveillance of the bad guys, we might get an indication about how they plan on doing it. For instance, if the bad guys meet with someone who later tries to do a hit-and-run on me, perhaps then that would be enough to apply for a wiretap.”

“That would probably work,” agreed Connie.

“Just make sure you don’t end up with a bad case of road rash, or worse,” said Laura, solemnly.

“Can’t say as I would appreciate trying to scrub tire tracks off my head, either, but I don’t see any other alternative at the moment. The priority is to identify who calls the shots and get evidence against him and Oskar both, as well as the hitmen. To do that, we’ll need wire.”

“I’ll prepare the wiretap application with everything we know,” said Connie. “If things go well, it won’t take long to add the critical information and get the order.”

“The critical information being an attempt on my life,” said Jack.

Connie nodded.

“The three murders we know about have all taken place outside of Canada,” said Rose. “If we do go ahead with the UC, it would likely involve the need for co-operation from foreign police agencies.”

“I’m okay with that,” said Jack, “providing my cover team is comprised of people I know. Ones who have been properly trained for the task.”

“I have to say, it sounds really dangerous to me,” said Dyck. “You could get yourself killed.”

“If I do get killed, I hope that a judge would authorize a wiretap then,” said Jack, sombrely.

Chapter Eighteen

Virgil answered his phone and immediately recognized Jack’s voice.

“What did you find out about your brother’s criteria for hiring his next victim?” asked Jack, gruffly.

“Fuck, you woke me up,” complained Virgil. “I spent the weekend partying with him on his boat. Caught the last ferry home last night.”

“Quit complaining. What did Oskar tell you?”

“He wants somebody from Victoria or Vancouver Island. He is only going to use the professional head-hunter recruitment type agencies in Victoria.”

“You told me before he uses different regions to diversify his victims. Big deal. I thought you said you were a smart guy. Is that all you know?”

“No, but give me a chance to wake up. He said they plan on doing the next guy in Asia.”

“That’s a big continent. Can you narrow it down?”

“He said they have legitimate business to do in a few places like China, Thailand, Malaysia … maybe Myanmar. He is hoping to get someone who has some knowledge of that part of the world to do the legit work first, before … you know, terminating his employment. He won’t be advertising that, but it is something he would prefer.”

“And the legit work would be?”

“Looking at different companies in regard to workplace safety, fair trade … ethical-type crap. Also someone who knows a bit about accounting and can look at books.”

“Is that it?”

“Yeah, except for schmoozing. He says he needs someone who is friendly and good with people because of all the corporate clients they need to suck up to.”

“If you hear or think of anything else, call me.”

“I expect he’ll be collecting applications this week.”

Jack cringed. He knew he didn’t have much time.

“You going to keep a close eye on who they hire?” asked Virgil.

“Yes.”

“Is it going to be you?”

“What do you mean?” asked Jack.

“Come on, I’m not stupid. You wouldn’t be all that interested in the criteria for hiring if you were only going to watch whoever he hires. You wouldn’t care. It’s you, isn’t it?”

“It might be,” admitted Jack.

“Might be?” laughed Virgil.

“I’ll be applying, but it doesn’t mean I’ll be picked.”

“Yeah, well I hope you are picked.”

“Put it this way, if something happens to me and your brother isn’t caught, you’re going to jail.”

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I didn’t mean it that way. I just want it all to be over.”

“Good.”

“Maybe you should use the team of people you have following me around to follow you instead.”

“Oh, uh, they are not following you at the moment because of other priorities. You are all on your own for a couple of weeks at least.”

Virgil hung up and gave a sarcastic laugh. He went to the kitchen and pulled up the blind to peer out the window. Like hell I’m not being watched. He wants to see if I’m going to go out and be naughty …

Virgil felt the sash cord around his fingers and smiled. It gave him an idea.

Go ahead and watch. You’ll see what a good boy I am. All in good time, my lovelies, all in good time …

“How did he respond?” asked Laura, when Jack hung up.

“He’ll figure I lied to him about saying there was no surveillance. I think it will keep him on the straight and narrow for today.”

“You think?”

“He’s tired and paranoid, but it wouldn’t hurt for you to go sit on his car and make sure he’s behaving himself. If he comes out, I don’t mind if you heat him up from a distance. He’ll think Special ‘O’ are doing their thing.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Laura.

“This afternoon I’ll pick up the electronic hardware and meet you at midnight to slap it on his car. I’m told these trackers are good for fifty hours of car movement before you have to change batteries. We’ll take turns monitoring the laptop.”

“First time for everything. I have to say, it sure sounds a lot easier than the old days.”

“For sure. The laptop will even sound an alarm. Every time he moves, we’ll know. Then you can watch the map on the laptop to see where he’s going. It will even time his stops.”

“If he goes to a playground, can I shoot him?” asked Laura.

“Thought you wanted to castrate him with his knife?”

“You gave that back to him. Completely ruined my fantasy.”

“Sorry about that.”

“All kidding aside,” said Laura seriously, “if he is arrested, it could seriously jeopardize any chance of catching Oskar.”

Jack brooded as he picked up his phone and started to dial. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. As long as he thinks he is being watched, he should behave.”

“Guess if he does end up watching some playground, I could have uniform check him out. That might scare him off until you’re done the UC.”

“Too risky. If he goes into predatory mode, he will do a lot of counter-surveillance. If he doesn’t spot anyone following him, but ends up getting checked near a playground, he’s liable to clue in.”

“So what do we do?”

“Have to decide at the time. It makes it all the more urgent to get the UC underway and finished.” Jack gestured to his phone. “I’m hoping Comical Crime can help with that.”

Laura grinned at Jack’s way of mocking the section.

Jack’s call to Commercial Crime received the urgency he was hoping for. After a flurry of phone calls back and forth throughout the day, Jack received a call from Inspector Penn at Commercial Crime.

“You’ve kept half our office pretty busy today,” said Penn.

“Sorry about that, sir. It is urgent.”

“No problem. We don’t usually get involved in these things. It’s got everyone’s adrenaline pumping. I think it’s been a good break from the usual routine.”

“Glad to hear that.”

“We have a resumé prepared for you that I think you will like. Also the right people are in place to verify it if someone checks.”

“What’s my cover story?”

“You used to work with the Ministry of Labour investigating best practices for employment and safety. I have someone you can contact to coach you on the basics of what you need to know.”

“Much appreciated,” said Jack.

“I’m not done. After the Ministry of Labour, you went to your current position working for EICG, which specializes in ethical investments. Their head office is in Vancouver, but they do hire people who work on contract out of their homes. Victoria would make sense. I have a contact person for you there, as well.”

“Sounds perfect, but who or what is EICG?”

“It stands for Equitable Investment Consulting Group. A retired member from our office is a CEO there. He is willing to meet you, as well.”

“This is really fantastic. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”

“I’ll email you the resumé for your perusal, along with the contact numbers. The one thing we are missing is an accounting background, but that is not something you could muddle through without getting caught.”

“A few years ago I took a basic accounting course to help me with a drug-money-laundering investigation. This guy isn’t looking for a chartered accountant. I think what you did for me is the best we can do.”

“You mentioned he might want someone with a knowledge of Asia?”

“I’ve been to Thailand, Vietnam, and Japan before. Once I went across a river into Myanmar, as well, so I do know some of the basic customs and culture of those countries. That part I can pull off.”

“With the type of background he is looking for, I would be surprised if there is anyone in Victoria that could match this resumé. This should get you an interview, the rest will be up to you.”

“I owe you one.”

“Maybe you’ll quit referring to us as Comical Crime,” said Penn.

“That’s a promise,” Jack said, smiling.

“You’re home early,” said Natasha, as she followed Mike and Steve to the door to greet Jack. “It’s only four o’clock.”

Jack gave the boys a hug and then kissed Natasha before saying, “I have to go back to work tonight at midnight.”

“An all-nighter?”

“No, only a couple of hours. But I do have a UC assignment that will keep me tied up for a while.”

“UC. Shhh,” said Mike, putting his finger up to his lip and looking at Steve. “Undercover,” Mike whispered.

“Undercover,” whispered Steve back, then made a loud “Shhh,” splattering bubbles at Mike.

“Local?” asked Natasha.

“No, but not far. I have to go to Victoria tomorrow. I’m applying for a job with a bad guy over there and have to make it look like I’m from Victoria. I should know by the end of the month if I’m hired.”

“Will you be gone until the end of the month?”

“No. I need to get a local cellphone and make it look like I live there. I’ll befriend a few waitresses and check out the regular haunts that I would be expected to know. If I’m hired, I will also need an apartment. I expect the operation to be short-term. Maybe a month or two, although it will likely include some foreign travel.”

Natasha let out a loud sigh and nodded.

“Do have some good news, however,” added Jack. “I called Bill and Marlene. If I am stuck working over there for a while, they are more than happy for you guys to stay with them so we can see each other.”

“We can do that?” asked Natasha, looking pleased.

“If by some remote chance a bad guy sees us together, I’ll use a cover story that you’re my ex-wife bringing the kids over from Vancouver to visit me.”

“Sounds good.”

Jack looked at Mike and Steve who were both listening carefully. “Going undercover with daddy, do you two think you can remember the cover story?”

“That you and Mommy are divorced and we are visiting you,” said Mikey in a serious voice.

“That’s right,” said Jack, before looking at Natasha and asking, “Where did he learn the word divorce? He’s not even four yet.”

“Half the kids he plays with in the park come from single-family units,” noted Natasha. She saw a distant look on Jack’s face and quickly said, “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to bring up the park thing.”

“It’s okay,” replied Jack, as an image of Virgil came to his mind.

“Will Laura be with you?” asked Natasha.

“No, I’ll be solo. I’ll have a cover team, but Laura won’t be involved. She will have to stay and keep an eye on our informant.”

“Of course.” She glanced curiously at Jack and said, “This UC … high-end or low-end?”

“High-end. Suit and tie … clean-shaven.”

“Yes!” exclaimed Natasha excitedly. “Whoopee! My good-lookin’ guy is coming back!”

Jack grinned in response.

“So when does that thing come off?” Natasha asked, giving Jack’s goatee a tug.

“How about now?” suggested Jack.

“Perfect,” smiled Natasha, turning her attention to the boys. “Mikey, do you want to take your brother and watch TV? I think an old re-run of The A-Team is on. Daddy and I are going to have a nap after he shaves,” she said, with a wink at Jack.

“Isn’t The A-Team a little old for them?” asked Jack.

“You would rather they watch us?” replied Natasha.

“Enjoy The A-Team, boys,” said Jack over his shoulder as he hustled down the hall.

Jack met Laura at midnight, where she was parked down the street from Virgil’s house. He got into her car and handed her a laptop computer.

“Hey, you clean up good,” she said.

“Thanks. It does appear to have its benefits.”

“You certainly do look less stressed,” Laura said with a smile.

Jack decided to ignore her comment. “How long have his lights been out?”

“Over an hour ago,” replied Laura.

“Good. This seems almost too easy.”

“Too easy? We’re dealing with a serial rapist. I’m not finding it easy at all.”

“I’m talking about the new technology,” replied Jack. “Slap a magnetic car tracker under some bad guy’s car and what used to be an eight-man surveillance can be done by one person sitting at home.”

“If you don’t mind curling up in bed with a laptop waiting for the alarm to sound,” said Laura.

“Would you rather spend your shift out here twenty-four seven?”

“No, I’ve done enough of that, too.” Laura looked at Jack. “I’m not complaining. This is great.”

Jack returned to his own car and stuck a radio earpiece into his ear. After a radio check with Laura, he strolled down the sidewalk towards Virgil’s carport while Laura watched with binoculars.

Laura watched closely as Jack ducked into the carport. The house remained in darkness and within minutes Jack had accomplished the task and met her back in her car.

“Do me a big favour and make sure the batteries never run down … including the laptop,” said Jack.

“Is the laptop waterproof? Do I need to take it in the shower with me?” asked Laura with a grin.

Jack didn’t reply, but looked sombre as he stared out at Virgil’s house.

“You okay?” asked Laura.

Jack nodded. “I’m okay, but there is something I haven’t told you yet.” He turned in the seat to face her. “I told Isaac that I will hand in my resignation if this guy succeeds in attacking another woman.”

“What? You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” said Jack curtly.

Laura looked at the laptop and thought about all the past experiences she had with electronic equipment that had gone faulty, or momentarily failed to work at a crucial time. “It happens, Jack,” she said softly. “Stuff like this breaks down all the time. This whole situation is not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” he snapped. “I’ve met Amanda and Megan and didn’t even have the guts to tell them what I was doing. I sure as hell don’t feel I have the right to pack a badge if I let Virgil rape someone else.”

Chapter Nineteen

The next few days saw Jack busy in Victoria, where he obtained a local cellphone and dropped off resumés at various recruitment agencies. One agency took particular interest and said they had a company in mind that was looking for someone with Jack’s qualifications. It gave Jack hope.

Potential living arrangements were also obtained. The mother of one of the RCMP members in Victoria managed an apartment complex. She agreed to allow Jack to use it as a mailing address. If Jack was hired, she had an apartment available at the end of the month that he could rent.

On Friday morning, Jack took a stroll past the marina on the inner harbour across from The Empress Hotel in downtown Victoria to see if he could see Oskar’s boat.

The marina was packed with many boats and people who were arriving for the Swiftsure Yacht Race scheduled to start in another ten days. Jack decided against going down to the actual docks in the event he bumped into Oskar.

On Friday afternoon, Laura was at her desk when she heard the alarm go off on the laptop, advising that Virgil was on the move. She was becoming used to his regular pattern and stared at the map.

For the last couple of days, Virgil had only made short trips to a store or periodically gone to the home of a man who Laura discovered had a criminal record for trafficking methamphetamines.

On one occasion, Virgil had gone from the man’s house to a casino before returning to the man’s house again. It was obvious they were friends and Laura guessed that the man was part of Virgil’s drug-trafficking ring.

This time Virgil’s route from home took him on a different path and she watched with interest as he left his home in Richmond and took the Oak Street Bridge into Vancouver. There he doglegged over to Granville Street and turned off on 66th Avenue before doubling back.

He’s checking for heat …

Laura grabbed the laptop and ran from the office. Virgil’s location was only minutes from her office and she kept her eye on the screen as she drove.

Virgil had turned his car around and was slowly driving around a block. The block was highlighted on her map in green and was labelled RIVERVIEW PARK.

You bastard …

Minutes later, Laura located Virgil’s BMW parked on Angus Drive, which led to the park. The car was empty and parked one block away from the park. Laura drove back to the park and was relieved not to see any moms playing with their children. She also didn’t see Virgil.

Jack answered his cellphone and held it away from his ear as Laura shouted, “Jack, where are you?”

“Driving off the ferry from Victoria. What’s up?”

“Our friend, the bastard. He’s parked about a block away from a city park.”

“Is he watching somebody?”

“I don’t know. He’s not in his car and I don’t know where he is. I drove past the park and there’s nobody in it that I could see.”

“You sure he’s not in the car? He could have ducked down.”

“I don’t think he would have seen me in time to do that, but I’ll drive past it again and check.”

“How long has he been there?”

“A couple of minutes.”

“His usual MO would be to conduct surveillance and come back at night, where he probably does more surveillance. Is this his first time to that area?”

“As far as I know, but he could have been here before we caught him. What if he already had someone staked out?”

“I don’t see him doing that if he thinks he is being followed. He’s not that stupid. He knows that he’s dead meat if there is an assault in the area where his car is.”

Jack waited a moment and heard Laura curse under her breath before saying, “I spotted him. He’s coming out of a house with some guy and they’re chatting up on the steps.”

Jack breathed a sigh of relief before asking, “Did he see you?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“I want him to think that Special ‘O’ is on him. He’d know that you and I couldn’t physically do it on our own all the time.”

“Oh, man,” muttered Laura. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Next time I talk to him, I’ll mention that Special ‘O’ wondered who he was visiting and called you to come take a look.”

“Might work.” Laura paused, then muttered, “I really hate this bastard.”

“You never used to swear when we first started working together.”

“I know. You’ve driven me to it.”

Jack chuckled, but heard his Victoria cellphone ring. Jack quickly said goodbye and answered. It was Oskar Cruickshank.

Chapter Twenty

The next Friday, at exactly ten o’clock in the morning, Jack walked along one of the fingers of piers on the inner harbour in Victoria and approached a sailboat called Corporate Asset.

Oskar had told Jack that if the interview went well, that he would be assessed further over the weekend, with a final decision being made on Monday.

Jack was dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt and blue tie for the interview, but felt out of place as he walked past clusters of people who were dressed in shorts and T-shirts. Despite his appearance, few paid him any attention. Their conversations seemed focused on discussing the wind and weather forecasts for the upcoming yacht race scheduled to start in three days.

Those who weren’t gathered on the piers sat on either the bows or the sterns of their boats sipping coffee. Everyone appeared to be in a friendly and festive mood.

Oskar appeared out of the stairwell leading to the cabin on the Corporate Asset and Jack eyed him as he approached. Oskar’s driver’s licence had already revealed his age as being forty-eight years old. He was Jack’s height and had a slim build.

Jack saw that Oskar was wearing an open fleece jacket over cargo shorts and running shoes. It made Jack feel more conspicuous and now wished he had thought to question what he should have worn for an interview on a sailboat.

Oskar was clean-shaven and his dark brown hair was cut short, but had turned grey above his ears. Jack saw him check his watch before looking at Jack.

“Permission to come aboard, Captain?” said Jack with a smile.

“Permission granted,” replied Oskar, with the slightest hint of a smile in return.

Jack stepped on board and they formally introduced themselves and shook hands.

“It would have been appropriate for you to dress casual,” said Oskar. “When I told you the interview was on my boat, I thought you would take it for granted.”

“I never like to take anything for granted,” replied Jack. “Also was hoping to make a good appearance,” he admitted.

“Take your shoes off, please,” said Oskar, as he turned and headed down the stairs into the cabin.

Jack did as instructed and followed. “Nice boat,” he said, as he entered the galley. “Are you entered in the race on Monday?”

“No, I’m more of an enthusiastic spectator,” replied Oskar. “Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the table. “I like to make these things as painless and relaxed as possible. Coffee?”

“If you’re having one,” replied Jack, as he squeezed behind a horseshoe shaped table and sat down. “Otherwise I’m okay.”

‘I’ve already had five cups,” said Oskar. “A bit of a party mood here last night.”

Jack nodded his understanding.

“You like to party?” asked Oskar, picking up a file folder and taking a seat at the table across from him.

“I like to mingle and meet with different people … so, yes, I do like to party sometimes.”

“Smoke?” Oskar asked, pushing an ashtray across the table toward Jack.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke.”

“Good. Neither do I.” Oskar stared momentarily at Jack, then abruptly said, “You look like you’re in good shape. I take it you work out?”

“Not really,” replied Jack. “I just watch what I eat. I’d like to be able to work out, but I have bad asthma.” He reached into his pocket and showed Oskar an inhaler he was carrying, before stuffing it back.

“Does that cause you problems at work?” asked Oskar.

“No, not at all,” replied Jack, “but I have to admit I’m no good at sports, other than a little golf. I couldn’t swim a stroke or run a city block to save my life.”

Oskar listened with interest and nodded slightly.

Jack gave a small fake cough to add credence to his story, before shrugging his shoulders and smiling lamely. That’s right asshole, I’m an easy target. Try to throw me out a window and you will find out how easy I am …

“Do you understand what my company is all about?” asked Oskar, as he skimmed over the questions he had written down on a sheet of paper in front of him.

“It is my understanding that you provide advice to companies so they can make more informed decisions about socially responsible and ethical investments,” replied Jack.

“That’s right. The goal is to do what is good for both the investors and society as a whole. Basically the same strategy as who you work for now, EICG. Do you mind if I ask your reason for wishing to leave EICG? They are highly respected.”

“Ethical Investment Consulting Group has been a great company,” said Jack, “but, uh, there were some personal problems.”

“Oh?”

“I may as well come clean on it,” said Jack. “I was divorced a couple of years ago. Guess I got lonely and made a bad decision.”

“A bad decision?”

“Yes,” frowned Jack. “I started dating someone in our head office, but then she broke up with me, too. I see her all the time through business and … well, it feels uncomfortable. I’ve learned my lesson on dating someone that you work with.”

“I see,” said Oskar, nodding his head. “I don’t expect you to disclose anything about EICG that you shouldn’t, but could you tell me more about what role you play with them?”

“I travel and personally check out companies around the world that have potential for investment. Generally I look at things like workplace safety or environmental impact on say, a mining company, as well as issues like social justice and proper corporate governance.”

“Are there specific companies you rule against?”

“Definitely. The idea is to keep away from companies that are engaged in things like adult entertainment, alcohol, gambling, tobacco, nuclear power, weapons, or military contracts. I look for opportunities to reap the most out of financial return while trying to maintain harmony with the good of society.”

“What example would you give for sustainable investment?”

“Currently, bamboo is a popular —”

“Answered appropriately,” smiled Oskar, giving a wave of his hand for Jack to stop. He eyed Jack for a moment, then said, “In many developing countries, work safety is not a priority and sometimes environmental concerns are totally unheard of.”

“Sadly, you are absolutely right,” replied Jack, before frowning.

“If you think such a company is perhaps borderline in being recommended as an investment opportunity, what process do you think should be taken?”

“That part of the process is not really my speciality, but I know that if problems are identified, they could be overcome by investment companies quietly buying up shares to get clout and then relying on dialogue, perhaps through the annual general meeting, to obtain the desired results.”

“Good. Any other suggestions on that issue?”

“Sometimes with EICG we use other like-minded organizations as leverage, such as environmental groups or labour standards, although like you said, many of the companies we look to invest in are developing countries and labour standards are basically unheard of.”

“Exactly,” nodded Oskar. “Do you have any background in accounting?”

“Only a rudimentary knowledge,” admitted Jack.

“I see.” Oskar leaned back in his seat and his eyes scanned the sheet of questions. He then glanced at Jack. “Do you have any questions so far?”

“Where do you imagine that I might fit in with your company?” asked Jack.

“Basically the same as you have been doing for EICG. Research of prospective companies to see if they have the criteria we are looking for. If they don’t, see if it would be possible, or economically feasible to change the company while maintaining or improving profitability once socially acceptable standards are adapted.”

“Which is what I like to get involved in. I bet you’re the same.” Jack smiled. “It feels good knowing you are making the world a better place … and making money doing it.”

Oskar smiled back. “With your background, I must say I am impressed. As it stands, I would definitely consider you to be shortlisted as a CEO.”

“Chief Executive Officer,” said Jack, smiling more. “I admit I do like the sound of that.”

“We deal with global economics. You would be expected to view prospective companies, both when they are expecting you … and at times when they don’t expect you.”

“Sounds a little scary when you put it that way,” said Jack.

“We’ve never had anyone hurt yet. For companies who are doing something they shouldn’t, it usually ends up with a verbal confrontation where they make excuses and deny access.”

“That’s good. The last time I got in a fight, I was seven years old and got a bloody nose and lost. I’m a talker, not a fighter.”

“Talkers are what we want,” replied Oskar. “As far as any rough stuff goes, if I think you are going into a rough area, corporate security is provided to escort you, more out of fear of being mugged by the locals than anything.”

“That’s a relief,” smiled Jack. “I was in Mexico two years ago and saw some pretty scary guys. Lucky for me, there was a taxi nearby and I high-tailed it back to the resort. The prospect of getting mugged scares the pants off of me.”

Oskar gave a fake, sympathetic smile and said, “Well … those kind of people are out there, which is why we hire professionals to protect our people.”

“That is really comforting to hear.”

“Personal safety comes first at all times. As a matter of routine and for all the work we do to find the suitable employees, we do take insurance policies out on our CEOs, but don’t worry, we have never had to collect on anyone being murdered yet,” added Oskar, giving a genuine smile.

“Goodness! I hope not!” exclaimed Jack.

“If you are hired, you would be travelling extensively, particularly in developing countries. Perhaps Africa, the Far East, China. Wherever needed.”

“I haven’t been to China or Africa, but I am fairly familiar with many of the cultures of the Far East. I’ve travelled in Japan, Vietnam, Thailand, and stepped foot into Myanmar, as well.”

“I see,” said Oskar, looking pleased. “So your asthma does not hinder you from travel?”

“Not at all. As long as I’m not expected to swim, run, or climb a mountain, I’m okay,” replied Jack. “As I said earlier, I even do a little golfing for exercise.”

“Nice to hear. Now, about salary. To start, you would be on probation for a six-month period and I am prepared to offer you seven-K a month. If you make it through the probationary period, you would receive a guaranteed ten-percent increase each year for the next three years.”

“So I would be in the six-figure bracket in three years,” said Jack. “That, uh, sounds reasonable,” he added, putting a controlled amount of excitement in his voice to make Oskar think he was thrilled with the offer. Too bad your CEOs don’t live long enough to collect it …

“I have what I hope is some potentially good news for you. Remember when I said to keep your schedule clear for the next three days?”

“Yes, you said if I passed the interview, I would be further assessed over the weekend with a final decision being made on Monday.”

“I can tell you that you are the last person I am interviewing for the position. Up until now, I have only selected one other potential candidate. You will be the second candidate.”

“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to compete,” said Jack. I wonder if I could break the other guy’s leg …

“The other candidate’s name is Stewart Potter. His background is in forensic accounting.”

“I see,” said Jack. Maybe I should break both his legs …

“I have three corporate clients I wish to entertain this weekend. Mr. Yu arrived from Shanghai yesterday and the other two should be arriving on separate flights today.”

Jack nodded politely.

“They are here as my guests to take part in the festivities surrounding Swiftsure. I’ve put them all up at The Empress. Between you and Potter, I am going to give you a modest cash budget to entertain them over the weekend. I will then interview them and dependent upon what they say, it will form a major part of my decision as to which one of you I hire.”

“Guess I better be nice to them,” joked Jack. “Would myself and Mr. Potter entertain them together as a group?”

“No. All three have been invited to a cocktail party on my boat at four o’clock this afternoon. It will be a chance for everyone to meet. Mr. Yu speaks limited English. His culture would expect that I entertain him for the most part, however, I would still like you and Potter to try and get some one-on-one time with him tonight.”

“I understand.”

“The other two clients are both American. John Barfoot and Len Stein. I want you to look after Len tomorrow and John on Sunday. Potter will do the reverse.”

“By look after?”

“Entertainment, meals, whatever …”

“Sounds like an easy and fun assignment,” said Jack. “Do they need to be picked up at the airport?”

“That part has been arranged with The Empress. This afternoon we will have cocktails and go out for dinner later. Dress casual and have fun.”

Thirty minutes later, Jack went to a motel room and met with a cover team comprised of four members of the Victoria RCMP Drug Section. One member, Constable Willy Mineault, was a trained undercover operative whom Jack had worked with before and highly respected.

Willy had a head of curly hair sticking out from under a woollen cap and a moustache that grew to the bottom of his chin. He was dressed in jeans and wore a T-shirt with a pattern of nautical rope knots displayed across the chest.

Jack had seen him on the pier a short distance from Oskar’s boat chatting with people who were excited about their entry in the race. Willy’s appearance allowed him to fit in perfectly.

Jack outlined the good news that he had passed the first stage of the interview and explained what was to follow. The bad news, he told them, was that there was one other applicant by the name of Stewart Potter being considered.

“Maybe we could break his leg,” suggested Willy.

Jack grinned. “Wrong, Willy … wrong!” He chuckled for a moment before becoming serious again and continuing, “It would be a serious problem if Potter was hired. I think we would have to risk telling him, even though it could jeopardize the operation.”

“At least it sounds like you would then be hired next,” said Willy.

“Oskar is offering a really good salary. I think if Potter backed out, it would most certainly draw suspicion. Oskar is already talking about retiring. Suspicion now might convince him to retire immediately. If he did, we would probably never get him for murder, let alone find out who orchestrates the murders.”

“And if we don’t tell Potter, he could get murdered,” noted Willy.

“Exactly. Another problem is identifying whoever it is that Oskar works for. Mr. Merlin or Marlin. Even if Oskar retires, who is to say that the other guy won’t go right on killing people?”

“Better hope you’re hired and not Potter,” said Willy, solemnly. “I’ll do a background check on him and see what I can discover about the guy in case we do need to approach him.”

“My hope is that I impress the clients more than he does,” said Jack.

“You should have that going for you,” said Willy. “Didn’t you say that Oskar is looking for someone who is really friendly and outgoing?”

“According to my source, he is,” replied Jack.

“Well, I’ve never really thought of accountants as being party animals. I bet Potter is some shy guy who lives at home with his mom.”

“We can only hope.”

“Serve these clients up some of your olive soup.” Willy grinned. “They would never forget you.”

“I don’t know,” replied Jack. “Seems to me your memory wasn’t so good after a few martinis.”

At three o’clock in the afternoon, Willy’s initial background check of Stewart Potter left Jack feeling apprehensive.

Potter was thirty-five years old and had spent the last six years working as a forensic accountant for a large accounting firm. Prior to that, he had worked in various African countries for the Red Cross.

“So much for him being a shy guy living with his mother,” said Jack.

“Yeah, guess I was wrong about that,” admitted Willy. “He is married and has four children. Two adopted seven-year-old twin boys from Somalia, one four-year-old daughter with Down Syndrome, and another six-year-old daughter.”

Jack saw the glum look on Willy’s face and felt the same way. The idea of Potter being set up for murder sickened them. Jack knew he could not knowingly risk Potter’s life.

Jack thought about the victims who had already been murdered, starting with Jennings who had his throat rammed into the broken glass shards of a window before Christmas eight years ago. Another killed while scuba-diving. Other unidentified victims not yet discovered, up to Lorne Welsh’s violent death in a hotel room in Moscow … and the family he left behind.

Jack glanced at his watch and saw that he had less than an hour before returning to the Corporate Asset.

I have to win out over Potter. There is simply no other option …

Chapter Twenty-One

Jack trailed behind another man as they walked down the pier to where the Corporate Asset was moored. When he arrived, he discovered that the man in front of him was Stewart Potter.

Oskar was on hand and introduced the two of them. Potter was a short man with a horseshoe pattern of brown hair around his prematurely balding head. His body looked skinny except for a rotund stomach. He gave Jack a big smile and a hearty handshake.

“My competition, eh!” he said, grinning. “Don’t get too close to the edge of the pier or I might push you in.”

“Actually I was contemplating breaking your leg.” Jack chuckled.

Oskar passed each of them an envelope and said, “There’s five hundred dollars cash for each of you. I want receipts. If more is needed, let me know. Otherwise, come Monday morning, I will speak to each of you alone and let you know who I have selected. Jack, meet me down here at nine o’clock Monday. Stew, come at ten.”

Oskar then took them into the galley and introduced them to three other men. The first man, Mr. Yu, was wearing a black suit, black tie, and a white shirt. He had all black hair, but Jack guessed his age at about sixty and knew the hair was dyed. Jack noticed that Oskar had not told Mr. Yu to remove his shoes.

The second man, John Barfoot, was dressed similar to Jack in a golf shirt and slacks. He was a large man and had a full head of wavy silver hair that made his bright blue eyes sparkle. Jack guessed that he was in his mid-sixties.

Upon introduction, Barfoot’s hand engulfed Jack’s as he gave a firm handshake. Along with the handshake, Barfoot gave a small smile that said he was sympathetic to the competition that Jack and Potter were going through.

The third man, Len Stein, was small in stature and in his early forties. He wore an open white silk shirt to expose a heavy gold chain over a waxed chest. His black hair was slicked back into a short ponytail, which did little to hide the bald spot on the top of his head. Two gold loops adorned one of his ears.

“Yeah, hi.” Stein frowned when Jack stuck out his hand, before giving Jack’s fingers a quick shake with his thumb and the tips of his fingers.

“So gentlemen,” said Oskar, “I thought we would socialize on board for a couple of hours. I’ve made reservations at Milestones here on the harbour at seven, so until then, let’s enjoy ourselves and get to know each other. Everyone help themselves to whatever you would like to drink. There is beer and a pitcher of margaritas in the fridge and liquor in the cupboard. Don’t be shy.”

Jack and Stewart saw that everyone else had a drink, so they went to the fridge.

“What’s your poison?” asked Stewart, as he opened the fridge.

“Just a beer, thanks,” replied Jack.

“Good thinking,” said Potter, handing Jack a beer and taking one for himself. “Two margaritas for me and I’m liable to do a face-plant on the dock.” He then raised an eyebrow at Jack. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to pour you a pitcher of them for yourself?”

Jack smiled. “What do you go by? Stew, Stewart, or Mr. Potter?”

“Please, no Mr. Potter stuff,” he replied. “And no jokes about whether or not I’m related to Harry. I think I’ve heard them all.”

Jack smiled and nodded.

“Most of my friends call me Stew or Stew Pot. You can call me anything you like as long as it’s not late for dinner,” he said, patting his stomach for emphasis.

“Stew Pot it is,” said Jack.

Over the next few hours, Jack mingled as best he could with everyone on board. The conversation was fairly light, with a smattering of talk in regard to world economics.

At seven o’clock, they walked the short distance to Milestones for dinner and then returned to the Corporate Asset for more drinks.

Once back on the boat, Barfoot sidled over to Jack and said, “So, I understand that you’re stuck babysitting me on Sunday.”

Jack smiled. “I wouldn’t call it babysitting. Oskar is picking up the entire tab and has told us to have a good time.”

“Tough for you to have a good time when you know you’re getting graded,” replied Barfoot. “Not to mention, I’m almost twice your age. I’m sure you would rather be home with your family.”

“Not really,” replied Jack. “I’m divorced.”

“Kids?”

“Yes, two boys, aged two and three.”

Barfoot frowned. “I am really sorry to hear you’re divorced. It’s tough on kids to grow up without a father.”

“I try to see them every chance I get. Maybe things will work out.”

“Oh? I don’t want to get personal, but is there any chance of reconciliation?”

“Possible. She lives in Vancouver, but often brings the boys over for a visit.”

“Well, if you’re willing to listen to an old guy like me, I can pass on some advice.”

“I’m all ears,” said Jack.

“I don’t have any children and my wife passed away a couple of years ago. I spent a lifetime accumulating wealth. Currently I have a bungalow in Belize, an apartment in Tuscany, and my main home is in Malaysia. The house has a pool, is right on the ocean and has live-in servants. I’ve also have a power boat moored out front.”

“Sounds great,” replied Jack, but he sensed frustration and could feel the man’s loneliness.

“Yeah, it sounds great, but I can tell you, it means nothing if you don’t have someone to share it with. I would trade it all to have a family. My advice to you is that the most important stuff in life is not stuff.”

“I appreciate what you are saying,” said Jack, “and I do believe in family values.”

Barfoot stared solemnly at Jack.

“Really I do,” emphasized Jack. Wrong guy to tell I’m divorced …

“I hope so, son, I hope so. Right now you are young, strong, and full of vitality. But the years go by fast. Don’t lose sight of what is really important. I eat in the finest restaurants all over the world. I travel first-class and drink one-hundred-dollar bottles of wine, but would trade it all to live in a tent, if it was with a real family.”

Barfoot eyed Jack to see his reaction, but he only nodded in response.

“Don’t measure success in money,” continued Barfoot. “Measure it in the amount of laughs you have as you go through life.”

“It is also easier to laugh on a full stomach,” replied Jack, “but I do understand what you are saying.”

Barfoot smiled. “Guess that’s enough babble from an old man. What plans do you have on Sunday when it’s your turn to babysit me? And don’t give me any guff that it’s not babysitting. I may not wear diapers yet, but I am sure those days are coming.”

Jack grinned. “I’m open to do whatever you would like. I could give you a tour of the city. Perhaps Butchart Gardens or —”

“Been there, done that,” said Barfoot, with a wave of his hand. “I’ve been to Victoria several times in the past. What would you do if you weren’t looking after me?”

Time to bring on the family atmosphere … “Well, I would probably go out to my favourite golf course and spend the day screaming ‘fore’ until my throat was hoarse.”

“That sounds good to me.” Barfoot chuckled. “I’m a duffer myself. I’ve done a few of the local courses. Bear Mountain, Olympic View.”

“Those are nice courses,” said Jack, “but my favourite is the Metchosin Golf Club.”

“I’m not familiar with it,” said Barfoot.

“It’s a family run golf course. Owned by Grant and Sue and usually managed by their daughters, Shannon and Kate. The golfers there are generally more, uh, mature in age and —”

“You mean old,” said Barfoot.

“Not necessarily,” Jack said with a light laugh. “I meant less of the young drunken sots who sometimes show up at courses and spoil the game for others. Also, the golf course itself has fairly wide fairways, so it’s forgiving, although most of the greens are challenging. The atmosphere is friendly and people frequently play off the wrong fairways to get back on their own.”

“Sounds like my kind of golf,” replied Barfoot. “How about giving me some time on my own Sunday morning and pick me up right after lunch? Say one o’clock?”

“No problem,” said Jack. “I’ll book a tee time for two o’clock.”

Stew and Mr. Yu had left the boat an hour earlier on Stew’s suggestion that they go for a walk over to the Parliament buildings that faced the marina. The buildings were decorated with thousands of lights and were a popular nighttime tourist attraction.

Upon their return, Mr. Yu told Oskar that he was tired and wished to go to bed soon. Oskar relayed the information to Jack, cautioning him that he had little time left to impress Mr. Yu.

“Go ahead,” said Barfoot. “You’ll have lots of time to impress me on Sunday.”

“It won’t be with my golfing abilities,” replied Jack.

Barfoot smiled and said, “If you later suggest we place wagers on the game, I’ll know you’re hustling me.”

Jack spoke with Mr. Yu and asked, “Are you interested in art, such as sculptures?”

“Yes, I have much art in my home in Shanghai,” said Mr. Yu.

“I realize that there is a fifteen-hour time difference between here and Shanghai. I am sure you are tired. I know I would be.”

Mr. Yu smiled apologetically and nodded.

“The Empress has an impressive collection of art for sale. How would it be if I walked you back to your hotel? We could view some of the art and it would give us an opportunity to talk before you head up to your room?”

Mr. Yu liked the idea and Jack spent the next half hour alone with him. Unfortunately, it was clear that Mr. Yu was exhausted and not open to conversation.

Jack bade him goodnight and returned to the Corporate Asset. As he stepped back on board to go downstairs into the galley, he saw Len Stein coming up the stairs so he stood back and waited.

Stein was carrying a margarita and stumbled to one side on the stairs, spilling half his drink. Jack reached out his hand to assist him.

“What the fuck? I don’t need your help,” said Stein, looking indignant. “If you weren’t standing there blocking the light, I could see better.”

“Sorry,” said Jack, stepping back again.

“Ah, this is better,” said Stein as he reached the stern. “Needed some fresh air. Gotta admit, the air here is better than in the Big Apple.”

“Oh, so you’re from New York,” said Jack, trying to be friendly.

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“I guess you did,” admitted Jack.

“I hear you’re looking after my entertainment tomorrow,” Stein said, in a voice that sounded argumentive as he stared up at Jack’s face. “Hope you’re not going to repeat everything I say,” he added, with a sarcastic laugh.

“Sorry, guess I’m a little nervous,” said Jack. Small-man complex coupled with a desire to bully. You poor, pathetic little man …

“Yeah, well, treat me good and I’ll put in the right word for you.”

“Thanks.”

“This is my first time out to the sticks. What do you do for entertainment? My wife said she wants me to bring her back a picture of me feeding a grizzly bear.” Stein laughed.

I’d like to feed you to a grizzly bear. “Victoria is a beautiful city. There are many spots I could take you to see,” suggested Jack. “Some great restaurants.”

“Yeah, I’d like to see her beautiful spot and eat there,” said Stein, pointing to a teenaged girl who had ventured out onto the deck of a nearby boat. “Hey, honey!” he yelled. “How about coming over here for a party?”

The girl headed below deck and a moment later the girl’s father stuck his head out and scowled at Stein.

“Fuck him,” said Stein, turning to face Jack again, before gulping down the rest of his drink. He then handed Jack the glass. “Get me another one.”

Jack glanced at the narrow space between the pier and the boat. Wonder if I could jam his body in there and make it look like he fell in and drowned …

“I meant now, not tomorrow,” prodded Stein.

Jack did as directed. He knew Stein was too drunk to notice that the drink he would make had far more tequila than it should have. Dealing with an obnoxious drunk would not benefit anything and he hoped this next drink would be Stein’s last for the night.

Jack smiled as he returned and handed Stein the drink. “Lots more where that came from.”

“Yeah, that’s a good one,” said Stein, after taking a large slurp. “What say I finish this and we go some place and find some women to party with. I’m also in the mood for a little … you know,” said Stein, touching the end of his nose with his finger and sniffing loudly. “You got some?”

“I don’t do coke,” said Jack. “As a matter of fact, I don’t do any drugs.”

Stein stumbled back a step and said, “Well … listen to you. Mr. Goody Two-shoes.” His face clouded in anger. “Quite frankly I don’t give a fuck if you do or not.” He jabbed his finger in Jack’s chest and added, “But you’re here to look after me. Don’t forget that!”

“I understand,” said Jack. “Tell you what, let me go inside to use the head and I’ll be right back.”

Jack went downstairs on the pretext of going to the bathroom, but instead took Oskar aside and said, “Mr. Stein is wanting me to get him some cocaine. Also wants to go out and party someplace else. He’s pretty drunk.”

Oskar shook his head and said, “I know he can be a little difficult sometimes, but he is a major client. He has a lot of say in the pension-fund investments of one of the largest retail chains in the States. Just do your best,” he added and turned away to talk to Barfoot.

Jack used the washroom and then procrastinated around the bar, where he mixed another powerful margarita for Stein. It wasn’t needed. As he went back up the stairs, he heard Stein vomiting over the side of the boat.

“Fucking airplane food,” said Stein, while wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “I should sue the bastards,” he spluttered, before turning and vomiting again.

Ten minutes later, Jack saw Stein safely back to The Empress and helped him open the door to his room.

“Yeah, I got your number,” belched Stein. “I’ll call you tomorrow when I’m ready. I need some sleep.”

Jack nodded and left, but as he crossed the street from the hotel to the marina, he saw Stew and Barfoot saying goodnight to each other at the far side of the crosswalk.

“I’ll pick you up at twelve o’clock for lunch then,” confirmed Stew.

“I’ll be ready and waiting in the lobby,” said Barfoot. He saw Jack and said, “And I’ll see you on Sunday.” With a nod toward the hotel he added, “And good luck to you with Stein tomorrow. From what I’ve seen of him, you might need it.”

“Thanks,” replied Jack, feeling slightly relieved as Barfoot crossed the street. At least one person is sympathetic with the asshole I have to deal with.

“Oskar said to tell you that the party is over for tonight,” said Stew.

“Good. Where you taking him tomorrow?” asked Jack with a nod of his head toward Barfoot.

“Yes, I guess it wouldn’t do if we both took him to the same place,” said Stew. “He asked and I said I wanted to surprise him. I’m going to take him to Butchart Gardens for lunch and spend the afternoon checking out the flowers. For dinner I am thinking French cuisine.”

“Sounds nice,” said Jack, smiling to himself. He decided against telling Stew that Barfoot wasn’t interested in seeing Butchart Gardens again. It is, after all, a competition. A competition between life and death …

“How about you?” asked Stew. “What are your plans with him on Sunday?

“I’m taking him out golfing for the afternoon. Not sure about dinner yet.”

“What about Len Stein? What are you going to do with him tomorrow?”

“I don’t know yet. Guess it will depend upon what he wants when he wakes up. Tonight he wanted me to line him up with some powder,” said Jack, pointing to his nose.

“Powder? What do you mean?”

“Cocaine.”

“Oh my God. He does that?”

“Apparently.”

“What did you say?”

“That I don’t do any drugs.”

“Me, either.” Stew looked apprehensively at Jack. “What do you think I should do if he asks me for that when I take him out on Sunday?”

“I mentioned it to Oskar and he said Stein was an important client, but other than that he was non-committal. If Stein asks you, I would refuse.”

“I certainly would. I guess if we both do, there isn’t much he can say,” added Stew.

“Exactly.”

“Well, good luck,” said Stew, extending his hand. “May the best man win.”

Jack shook his hand and walked away. He thought about the night’s events and Stein’s behaviour. What will tomorrow bring?

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was one-thirty Saturday afternoon when Stein called Jack.

“Where are you?” asked Stein. “I walked down to the boat and nobody is around. I thought you were suppose to look after me.”

“I was waiting for you to call.”

“Well, I’m calling now. I’m starving. It’s almost suppertime in New York. Get over here.”

“I’ll be there within half an hour.”

“Yeah … that’ll be okay. I’ll meet you downstairs in the Bengal Lounge.”

Jack met Stein twenty-five minutes later in the lounge in The Empress. Stein stood up as soon as Jack arrived and said, “Let’s get out of here.”

Jack waited as Stein charged two Bloody Mary cocktails to his room and they walked outside.

“Well, what do you have lined up for me?” asked Stein.

“What are you in the mood for?”

“I want oysters and a bottle of white wine. After that, I want to go see some naked women and see if the oysters work.” Stein chuckled, elbowing Jack in the ribs.

“The Wharfside is a good place to eat,” said Jack. “There is also a strip club named Monty’s, that is nearby. Both are in walking distance.”

“Great, what are we standing around for? Let’s go.”

It was four o’clock when they finished lunch and walked to Monty’s. Stein picked a table that bordered the stage and quickly caught the stripper’s attention when he tossed a ten-dollar bill onto the stage.

Stein soaked up the woman’s attention as she crawled like a cat across the stage and brushed her bare breasts across his forehead. When she retreated to another part of the stage, Stein turned to Jack and said, “I know what these girls like,” he said, and tapped the back of his hand. “Give it to me.”

“Give you what?” asked Jack.

“The coke. I’ll put a little on the back of my hand and give her a real treat.”

“I told you last night, I don’t do drugs.”

“What? I don’t believe this,” spluttered Stein. “And I told you I don’t give a rat’s ass if you do or not, but you’re supposed to be looking after me!” Stein gazed around the room and said, “I’m sure someone has some. Go ask.”

“I’m not a drug trafficker,” said Jack. “Go get it yourself if you want.”

Stein sat back in his chair and glared at Jack. “You know something? I don’t like your attitude and I sure as hell don’t like you … so fuck off! Get out of here and leave me alone.”

“With pleasure,” replied Jack. “You’re an embarrassment to be seen with.”

Jack returned to the motel where he was staying and debriefed his cover team. They were sympathetic to his plight and he suggested that they take the rest of the night off, with the exception of two of the team who were still out watching Oskar and Mr. Yu.

So far, there had been nothing significant to report on that end as Oskar was seen taking Mr. Yu to the usual tourist haunts.

Willy invited Jack to come over and spend the rest of the evening at his house, but Jack declined.

After everyone left, Jack was left feeling tired and depressed. He went to bed early, but felt apprehensive about his altercation with Stein and had a restless night. His only hope was that Oskar would be sympathetic as to the reason behind what would surely be Stein’s poor assessment of him.

To impress John Barfoot was even more critical and Jack went over what he knew of him. The guy seems lonely and family is important to him. Wish I hadn’t told him that I was divorced …

At one o’clock Sunday afternoon, Jack was about to enter The Empress Hotel to pick up John Barfoot, when Stew called out to him.

Jack turned as Stew, carrying a small plastic bag, quickly approached the hotel.

“What did you do to Stein last night?” asked Stew.

“Nothing,” replied Jack. “Last I saw of him was around four o’clock yesterday afternoon at a strip bar. I parted company with him then, at his request, I should add.”

“He phoned me at ten o’clock this morning to come and get him,” said Stew. “He was robbed.”

“Robbed? Was he hurt?”

“No, he woke up in some motel down on Gorge Road. His money and credit cards were gone. He thinks he might have been drugged. When he came to, he phoned me to come and get him.”

“Did he cancel his credit cards?”

“Yes, I got him to do that. He doesn’t want to report it to the police.”

“Because his wife might find out he was with a hooker,” said Jack.

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

“Just a wild guess,” replied Jack.

“He told the credit card companies that he lost his wallet, maybe at some bar he was at earlier in the night called The Fox.”

“The Fox? That’s another strip bar. When I left him, he was at Monty’s.”

“He told me that he thinks one of the hookers slipped a drug in his beer at the motel.”

“One of the hookers?” said Jack. “Sounds like the oysters worked.”

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing. What are you doing?”

“Got him some Tylenol,” replied Stew, holding up the plastic bag. “I think he is going to stay in his room today. He told me he wants to be left alone.”

As Stew headed off, Jack was greeted by John Barfoot who was waiting in the lobby.

“I’m ready,” said Barfoot. “Let’s see this family-run golf course that you’ve been bragging about. Maybe they’ll adopt me,” he added with a smile.

The drive to the Metchosin Golf Club took forty minutes and their conversation was easy-going. When they arrived, Jack introduced Barfoot to Shannon, who was working behind the counter. By the time they had rented clubs and a cart, Barfoot had met some of the regulars, including Shannon’s father, Grant.

“This really is a family-run business,” said Barfoot, as he prepared himself for the first tee shot. “I can see why you like it here.”

“Also a good course for those who are relatively new to the game,” said Jack. “Most everyone is friendly and not critical or judgmental if you make a bad shot. Or I guess I should say the bad shots I usually make.”

“That’s good to hear. I am a bit of a beginner myself.”

Over the next three and a half hours, Jack discovered that Barfoot was anything but a beginner. When Barfoot politely asked Jack if he wanted any tips on how to improve his game, Jack readily accepted. When they were finished, Barfoot asked, “What would you normally do after a game?”

“Well, for me, I would go to my favourite pub and have a beer and a burger, but seeing as Oskar is treating us, I’m sure you would prefer a more luxurious dinner.”

“What is your favourite pub?” asked Barfoot.

“The Country Rose,” replied Jack. “It is a pub that also has a family-type atmosphere. Mostly frequented by a more mature crowd.”

“No heavy metal.”

“None,” smiled Jack. “Judy runs the place and most of the waitresses who work behind the bar and serve drinks are really friendly and proficient. Debby, Laura, and Yvonne have worked there for years, so it really is kind of like a family.”

“A place where everybody knows your name.”

“Exactly.”

“How’s the food?”

“The food is pub fare, but it’s great. The Rose burger is one of the best burgers I’ve ever had.”

“Sounds like a place I would like. Let’s give it a try.”

“Are you sure? We could certainly go to any of the top restaurants of your choice.”

“The Country Rose is my choice.”

Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the pub and a waitress came to take their order.

“Which one are you?” asked Barfoot. “Debby, Laura, or Yvonne?”

“I’m Debby,” she replied, giving Barfoot a curious look before glancing suspiciously at Jack.

“It’s okay,” chuckled Barfoot. “Jack has bragged about this place. Everything he told me is good.”

Jack ordered a local beer called Race Rocks and Barfoot said he would try it as well.

As they enjoyed their beer, Jack said, “You told me your main home was in Malaysia. Why there?”

“Partly location,” replied Barfoot. “Many of the companies I look to invest in are in Asia. It really is an expanding market over there.” He winked at Jack and added, “Not to mention, it is also cheaper and warmer.”

Jack smiled and said, “I have a suspicion that being cheaper is not a real concern for you.”

“Maybe not, but being warm is. The trouble of becoming an old fart is your blood thins. I like it hot.”

“You’re not that old.”

“You’re not that good of a liar,” chuckled Barfoot.

“How long have you known Oskar?” asked Jack.

Barfoot reflected a moment. “I’ve been in this business about thirty-five years. I think I first met Oskar about ten or twelve years ago. We are in much the same business.” Barfoot rubbed his chin as he gazed reflectively, then said, “Except he must be doing better than me. He is already talking about retirement and selling his company.”

“Retiring? He seems young for that,” replied Jack, not wanting to sound like he already knew.

“I think so, too. A guy needs something to do. Laying around on the beach is nice for a little while, but after that, I think if you don’t start using your brain, it will shrivel up like a raison.”

“Use it or lose it,” quipped Jack.

Barfoot gave Jack a sideways glance. “I probably shouldn’t have told you about his talk of retirement.”

“It’s okay,” said Jack. “Can’t see that it would affect anything by me knowing, but I’ll keep it to myself.”

“Why are you interested in joining his company? Is it strictly for the money?”

“I wouldn’t do it for free,” said Jack, “but I also like what the company represents.”

“And what does it represent?”

Murder incorporated comes to mind … Jack refrained from blurting out his thoughts. Instead he took a sip of beer and said, “I think it can best be summed up by quoting the Scottish economist and philosopher, Adam Smith.”

“The man who wrote The Wealth of Nations back in the 1700s?”

“Yes. I may be slightly off on his quote, but it went something like, ‘All for ourselves, and nothing for other people, seems, in every age of the world, to have been the vile maxim of the masters of mankind.’”

“I think your quote is accurate,” said Barfoot. “I’m impressed.”

“Ah, don’t be.” Jack chuckled. “I tried to memorize it last week, hoping I would get a chance to use it when Oskar interviewed me.”

Barfoot laughed. “Well, at least I know you’re honest.”

“Still, I think it’s a good one. As I understand it, his philosophy is that a good life is not only representative of the material goods you have, but also includes a combination of intellectual endeavour and high moral character. I think companies who pursue ethical investments have the potential to include all three.”

“I’m pleased that you would adhere to such a philosophy, but even if you have high morals and a good heart, making the right decision is not always easy.”

No kidding. Like letting a serial rapist off to catch a murderer …

“Let me give you an example,” continued Barfoot, “if a company in a third world has potential, but … say there is a minor problem, such as child labour, what would you do?”

“You consider child labour a mild problem?” replied Jack. “I would think that would be a huge problem. I would report it back to the companies who are thinking of investing and hope they don’t invest.”

Barfoot smiled and said, “I used to think that way myself, but if you look deeper, in some developing countries, if that child was not working in a factory, their only alternative would be prostitution. Which would you rather see a child in?”

Jack grimaced. “Tough choices.”

“My strategy is to promote change through dialogue with the company. Perhaps ensure that enough financial benefit is passed down from the executives to the person on the factory floor, so that their children do not need to work.”

“You could do that by talking with them?”

“Not quite. I would have a couple of investment companies slowly buy up enough shares so that we would have a powerful voice and be able to reflect the changes we want through shareholder resolutions and proxy voting.”

“Sounds sneaky, but I like what the outcome could represent,” replied Jack, raising his glass.

After they each took a sip of beer, Jack said, “The idea of buying up company shares to gain control is something I have discussed with Oskar, but I wasn’t thinking about doing that when you mentioned child labour. I automatically wanted to shun such a company.”

“But you do understand what I mean?”

“Definitely. You’ve helped me see what I call the big picture. You would be providing fair trade to people who would otherwise never get it.”

“Exactly,” smiled Barfoot, clinking his beer mug with Jack’s.

Jack took another sip of beer and put his mug down. “I can see why you are a valued client.”

“Actually, I may become more than a client,” said Barfoot. “Oskar has approached me to join his company and take it over completely when he retires.”

Oh, crap! You’re the second guy Oskar plans to kill before he retires… Jack felt a lump in his throat, but did his best to smile as if delighted.

“I haven’t decided yet,” continued Barfoot. “I should be retiring myself, but like I said, you need something to keep busy. Oskar talks of sitting on a beach under a palm tree, but that’s not for me.”

“If Oskar is retiring soon, I would expect he’ll be wanting an answer from you soon?” probed Jack.

“Yes, talking to him about it is the primary reason I came to Victoria.”

Jack tried to think of a reason, other than being murdered, as to why Barfoot shouldn’t join the company.

“You seem troubled?” asked Barfoot.

Jack shrugged and said, “With you having your own company, wouldn’t it be better if there was an apparent independence when it comes to buying up shares to gain control of a company?”

“You do have a point there,” conceded Barfoot. “If two companies discreetly work together to buy up shares, the collusion could work to an advantage for the AGM.”

“It would provide you with better leverage to direct the company in the right direction.”

“That it would.” Barfoot studied Jack for a moment and said, “You know, I am really impressed with you. I will definitely be passing on favourable comments to Oskar.”

“Thank you. After yesterday, I will need it.”

“It didn’t go well with Stein?”

“You hadn’t heard?”

“No. I’ve met Stein before. He is not someone whose personal company I prefer.”

“Yesterday he made it clear that he doesn’t like my company, either.”

“That is unfortunate. If I owned the company, you are the type of man I would like to have working for me.”

“Thank you.”

Debby came by and Barfoot ordered a second beer. She looked at Jack and said, “You too, Jack?”

Jack shook his head and said, “I’m still okay. Maybe in another ten.”

“Oh, you’ve got that three-legged table again,” said Debby as she left.

“Three-legged table?” asked Barfoot, glancing under the table.

“Her expression means we are never done our beer at the same time,” smiled Jack, “which causes her to have to make more trips.”

Barfoot grinned, but then eyed Jack for a moment before saying, “A moment ago, I had the feeling you were trying to talk me out of joining the company.”

“I thought it made better business sense to be in a position to apply more leverage.”

“Is that the real reason you are trying to dissuade me, or is there something else?”

“Something else?” The smart old codger picked up on my concern …

“Is it that you wouldn’t want me as your boss?” asked Barfoot seriously. Before Jack could reply, Barfoot could not hide the fact that he was joking and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I hardly ever use the cat-o’-nine tails on my crew.”

Jack smiled and raised his glass. “I think I would be happy to work for a man like yourself.” If you live long enough …

Chapter Twenty-Three

On Sunday night, after dropping Barfoot off at The Empress, Jack drove to Beacon Hill Park where he met with his cover team and told them of Barfoot’s intention to join the company.

“Goddamn it,” said Willy. “Always peaks and valleys in this business.

“And right now we’re in a valley,” replied Jack. “Death Valley.”

“It does sounds like Barfoot is going to rate you highly,” noted Willy.

“Yes, but we could still be in trouble,” said Jack. “I really blew it on Saturday with Stein. My only hope is Oskar understands the situation and goes with what Barfoot says.”

“What about Mr. Yu?” asked Willy.

“I doubt that his assessment of Stew or myself will be much different. Neither of us had much time to try and impress him.”

“What do we do if you’re not hired?”

“I think we have to risk telling Stew immediately. He strikes me as a really nice guy. I am sure he would quietly withdraw, but Oskar would find it odd.”

“And John Barfoot?” asked Willy. “What if he joins? There’s no way we could not tell him. It’s not like we could protect him if he lives in Malaysia.”

“I know,” sighed Jack. “Stew Pot is bad enough. If Barfoot gets kinky, Oskar will know that something is up. We don’t even know who his boss is yet.”

“Speaking of that,” said Willy. “I’ve had the race entries, licence plates, and hotel registries checked out. There wasn’t anybody with the name of Merlin or Marlin. Like you said before, if Oskar gets spooked and decides to quit, who’s to say that his boss won’t continue?”

“I know, I know,” said Jack in frustration. “We need to find out who he is. Guess it is one step at a time. Let’s see what tomorrow morning brings. Maybe we’re worrying for no reason. Oskar said he would make his decision then.”

At nine o’clock Monday morning, Jack boarded the Corporate Asset and sat with Oskar in the galley.

“Do you have the receipts?” asked Oskar.

Jack handed him the envelope and Oskar looked through it. “Most of the cash is still here! Are you telling me you spent just over a hundred dollars?”

“Game of golf and a burger,” said Jack. “Didn’t cost much. I’m sure you heard what happened with Len Stein. I only bought him a lunch.”

“I heard,” replied Oskar, gruffly. “You took off on him and someone drugged his drink and he was robbed.”

“I left at his request after I refused to get him some cocaine,” said Jack.

“I told you he was an important client.”

“Yes, you did.”

“It is too bad, because you really impressed John, but I need someone who is consistent in dealing with people. Someone I can rely on. Your ratings were not consistent.”

“My ratings?”

“I asked the three of them to rate you on a scale from one to six. Mr. Yu gave both you and Stew a three, so count his out. John rated you a six and Len gave you a zero. Stew received a three from John and a five from Len.”

“From what I understand, Stew only brought him some Tylenol and left him in his room. That rates a five?”

Oskar gave a sympathetic smile and said, “I am sorry, but that’s the way the ball bounces. I’ll keep your resumé on file, should something come up.”

Should something come up? Yeah, like a body …

Jack left the boat and was walking up the ramp from the marina when he saw Barfoot wave to him, near the top of a stairway overlooking the marina.

Jack waved back and met up with him.

“How did it go?” asked Barfoot.

“Not well,” replied Jack. “I really appreciate your support, though. Oskar told me that you rated me six out of six.”

“Are you saying you didn’t get the position?” said Oskar, sounding incredulous.

“Stein rated me a zero,” explained Jack.

“A zero! That is utter bullshit,” growled Barfoot. “Come with me! I am going to have a word with Oskar.”

Jack hesitated, wondering if Barfoot’s intervention would make the situation worse. Then again, how much worse could it get?

A moment later, Barfoot and Jack met with Oskar in his galley.

“What’s this bullshit that you’re not hiring Jack?” said Barfoot. “You know what I think of him,” he said, patting Jack on the shoulder.

“That was obvious from your assessment,” replied Oskar. “But I need someone who is consistent. Someone who can get along with everyone, not only you.”

“I know Stein,” said Barfoot. “He has the moral scruples of a snake. He is a womanizer, uses illegal drugs, and, in my opinion, is a complete ass.”

“That may be your opinion, but he is also an important client,” said Oskar, defensively.

Barfoot waved his finger in Oskar’s face. “Your company is suppose to uphold moral integrity when it comes to investment. Is Stein the image you want to portray as your poster boy for who you do business with?”

Oskar’s face reddened. Jack could not tell if it was from embarrassment or anger.

“The only reason Stein is where he is,” said Barfoot in disgust, “is because he came from money. He is nothing more than a spoiled, immature brat.”

“Who brings in a lot of money for my company,” said Oskar.

“You would attract more clients if you didn’t have the likes of Stein,” said Barfoot.

Oskar shrugged in response.

Barfoot tapped Oskar on the chest with his finger and said, “You were wanting me to come on board with your company?”

Oskar silently stared back.

“Well, I’ll tell you what would make me do that,” said Barfoot. “Just two things.”

“Those being?” asked Oskar.

“Hire this young man immediately and sever your relationship with Stein completely.”

“Are you serious?” asked Oskar.

“You’re damned right I am,” said Barfoot, evenly.

“Could be losing a lot of money by getting rid of Stein,” said Oskar.

“What do you care? You’ll be retiring soon,” said Barfoot.

Oskar looked at Jack for a reaction.

“It’s okay, he knows,” said Barfoot. “I told him last night.”

Oskar nodded, then took a deep breath, slowly exhaled, and smiled. “Agreed,” he said, sticking out his hand.

Jack watched the two men shake hands. His emotions were mixed. Elated that he had been hired … and sickened that the man who stood up for him could soon be targeted for murder.

“Welcome aboard,” said Oskar, turning to shake Jack’s hand. “The company and the Corporate Asset,” he added, with a smile.

“There is a question of timing,” said Barfoot. “I will need a couple of months to get my affairs in order.”

Jack breathed a sigh of relief. A couple of months might be all he needed.

Oskar nodded and looked at Jack. “I have several companies in Asia that need scouting out.”

“I’m your man,” said Jack enthusiastically.

“A couple are high-priority,” continued Oskar. “I’ll be flying over there myself to check out a company in China that Mr. Yu has a vested interest in. Two other companies are in Myanmar, two are in Thailand, and one is in Malaysia.”

“I understood there were trade sanctions with Myanmar,” said Jack. “Due to the human-rights violations.” Thank you Commercial Crime for your help …

“There are, but Myanmar recently held their first democratic election in over twenty years. If things do get moving again, it could be an economic opportunity.”

“I see,” replied Jack.

“I presume, however, that you will need to give at least thirty days’ notice before coming over?” asked Oskar.

“I have a lot of holiday time coming to me,” said Jack. “I could give my notice, use my holiday time and start working for you in two weeks.”

“Told you he was eager,” smiled Barfoot.

“Yes, I am,” replied Jack. Eager to save your life … and my own.

Chapter Twenty-Four

That afternoon, Jack got off the ferry from Victoria and drove directly to a meeting being held at the Major Crime Unit in Inspector Dyck’s office.

Rose, Laura, and Connie Crane were present when Jack arrived. He had already called Rose to let her know he had been hired, but now he gave a detailed account of what had happened over the weekend, including his meeting with Barfoot and Oskar on the boat that morning.

“China, Myanmar, Thailand, and Malaysia,” said Rose. “That is going to be a lot of countries to liase with. With his real office in L.A., I expect the U.S. will be involved as well.”

“I know, but it wasn’t like I had a choice in the matter,” replied Jack.

“So where does it stand now?” asked Dyck.

“As of the fifteenth of June, I will be officially working for Oskar,” replied Jack.

“The fifteenth?” said Dyck. “For what’s required in preparation, isn’t that rushing things a little?”

“I agree, it is. I could have easily delayed being hired until the end of June, but I want to have the investigation wrapped up before Barfoot joins the company. I didn’t feel that we had the time to stall.”

“Good point,” said Dyck. “Are you expected to be working out of his office in L.A., then?”

“No, that is one good thing. He said he anticipated I would be going to L.A. a couple of times a year, but other than that, I could work from home. According to him, I will be on the road most of the time.”

“Hopefully not under the tires of some semi-truck,” said Connie.

“That’s a cheery thought,” replied Jack. “I’ve already signed the NDA and —”

“What’s an NDA?” asked Connie.

“Sorry, I’m already starting to sound corporate,” smiled Jack. “An NDA stands for a non-disclosure agreement. It is to ensure that I won’t be spilling any company secrets to other corporations.”

“Think murder is one of those secrets?” said Laura sarcastically.

“Oskar also informed me, as nonchalantly as he could, that he would carry the standard corporate-owned life insurance policy on me.”

“Did you say anything when he told you that?” asked Dyck.

“I acted a little surprised and he said the COLI was simply a matter of routine. He explained that in the unlikely event something happened to me, it was to compensate the company for the costs incurred in recruiting and training someone of my high calibre.”

“High calibre?” snorted Rose.

“His words, not mine,” said Jack, returning Rose’s smile.

“I’m surprised he told you about it,” said Connie.

“In the U.S. they are required by law to do so. I had to sign a written consent and acknowledge that Oskar would be the sole beneficiary. For your info, effective June 15, I will be worth one million U.S. dollars to Oskar if I die.”

“You really better look both ways when you cross the street,” said Rose. “I don’t want Oskar to be able to collect on it.”

“That would tick me off, too,” said Jack, frowning. “And I would take it real personal if my murder wasn’t proven and he got to collect.”

“Talk about laughing all the way to the bank,” said Dyck, bitterly.

“I also received some background information from the Americans on Ben Pike while you were gone,” said Laura, gravely. “Turns out he was a former U.S. Marine, but to make matters worse, he is an expert in martial arts and used to instruct the Marine Corps Martial Arts Program in hand-to-hand and close-quarters combat. Incidentally, the MCMAP logo is one mind, any weapon.”

“Wonderful,” said Jack lamely.

“There is little doubt that he can kill quickly and silently with his bare hands,” noted Laura.

“Like breaking a guy’s neck and tossing him over a balcony in Moscow,” said Rose.

Jack thought about Max Romanov’s response when he had asked him if anyone had heard any yelling or fighting before the alleged suicide. Nobody hear nothing until big splat …

“There is still no indication of who Pike’s friend is,” said Rose. “The one you referred to as Killer Rabbit.”

“You nicknamed someone Killer Rabbit?” asked Dyck.

“It wasn’t me who first came up with that,” explained Jack. “It was a friend of the first victim. A guy by the name of Tom Donald met them at a Christmas party with his buddy the night before his buddy had his jugular slashed on a windowpane. Tom told me he had heard that the two security guys were trained killers.”

“I think Pike has already proved that,” said Laura.

“Tom referred to them as Pike the Spike and Killer Rabbit,” added Jack.

“Killer Rabbit?” said Connie. “Sounds comedic.”

“The guy apparently tends to bounce as he walks,” replied Jack. There is nothing comedic about it. If I go up against either of these guys in hand-to-hand, I’m dead.

“I don’t suppose you noticed any so-called security types when you were in Victoria?” asked Rose.

“No.”

“When this starts, I’m going to want a cover team with you at all times,” said Rose. “Twenty-four-seven.”

“Sounds good, but it could be problematic,” replied Jack. “To start with, it is expected that I will be travelling alone, or if not, with someone connected to the company. My first assignment is to go to Myanmar to check out a rice-export company.”

“Rice paddies … don’t forget to bring mosquito repellent,” said Laura.

Jack nodded. “I have already been given the contact names, phone numbers, and email addresses. There are lots of tourists in Thailand, so blending in there is not a big problem, but Myanmar could be a problem if I were to end up in the countryside. I doubt that many Caucasians go there.”

“Then you’ll have to stay out of the countryside,” said Rose, firmly. “There is no way you’re going anywhere without protection.”

“The place I am suppose to go to is a city called Yangon.”

“Yangon? I’ve never heard of it,” said Dyck.

“It is also known as Rangoon,” said Jack. “The military junta changed the name when they took over. The same for the country. They tried to change the name from Burma to Myanmar, but outside of Myanmar it goes by both names. Yangon used to be the capital and has over four million people. I’m sure they get enough tourists there that a cover team could be utilized. It is only if they want me to go look at the rice fields that we would run into a problem.”

“I don’t even think we have an embassy in Myanmar,” said Rose.

“We don’t. I did some checking while on the ferry on the way back. There are resources there we can use. Both the Australians and the British have embassies there. When we’re done here, I’ll provide them with the contact names and information that Oskar gave me. Maybe they can do some checking for us.”

“And if you are expected to go to the countryside? What then?” said Rose.

“I’ll refuse. Maybe say I’m paranoid of malaria or something, although I do believe that my assignment in Yangon is legit.”

“Why do you say that?” asked Dyck.

“I didn’t get any bad vibes from Oskar over it. Everything he said made sense. He told me there was a rumour that Myanmar is dropping their export tax this year. He also said they are selling rice to North Korea and speculated that now might not be a good time to invest, but is thinking a little further down the road.”

“What are you expected to be doing there?” asked Rose.

“Oskar wants me to check in with the head honchos of the rice-exporting company and take them out for dinner. Simply schmooze with them to make contact. I think it will be safe, but I’ll avoid the rice paddies.”

“You will do more than avoid it,” said Rose. “I am telling you that you will not be going to the countryside.”

“No problem. I am only expected to be there for one or two nights. I have seen rice paddies before, so it is not like it would be a big deal.”

“Still, what makes you think that your trip there will be safe?” asked Rose. “The business could still be legit and Oskar may plan on having you killed after you send him your report.”

“I’m not finished. Oskar also didn’t care where I stayed or when I arrived. He said it was an easy assignment and that I would be going on my own. I am to fly from Vancouver to Bangkok and then catch a flight from there to Yangon. He suggested I spend one night partying with the people in Yangon, but also said I would likely need a day or two to recover from jet lag.”

“He never directed you to a specific hotel?” asked Rose.

“No. He left the hotel in Yangon and the flight details up to my own discretion. What he was explicit about, was what I was to do after. He wants me to be at the Imperial Golden Triangle Resort in northern Thailand on June 20. It is located in a small town called Chiang Saen. At that point he mentioned that I would be meeting up with someone from corporate security to assist me.”

“There we go,” said Laura. “Let the games begin.”

“Pike the Spike or Killer Rabbit?” asked Rose.

“I don’t know. The Imperial hotel will be our base of operation for a few days. He has booked me a room for five days, but says the timelines may change, depending upon how things go. I am only to book a one-way ticket from Bangkok to Chiang Rai and keep the return open. From Chiang Rai it is about an hour’s drive north to the Golden Triangle. He said I could arrange for the resort to pick me up at the airport.”

“Maybe he wants to leave your ticket open in case they have to exchange the seat for a casket in the cargo hold?” Laura said ruefully.

“Thanks for the thought,” said Jack, frowning.

“The Golden Triangle … where have I heard that before?” asked Dyck. “Didn’t it used to be a famous for drugs?”

Jack nodded. “It was notorious in the old days for being the main route to smuggle heroin for most of the world’s addict population. It is where two rivers meet, forming a triangle. On one side is Thailand, across one river is Myanmar, and across the other is Laos. Also, by river it is an easy trip into China. It is still a smuggling route, but currently plays second fiddle to Afghanistan.”

“Still dangerous, then,” noted Dyck.

“The Thailand part is not bad,” said Jack. “It has even become a tourist destination, so a cover team could blend in.”

“What is Oskar’s reason, or should I say his excuse for getting you to go there?” asked Rose.

“I am sure that some stuff is legit. He is meeting Mr. Yu to check out a company in a nearby city in China, but he also wants me to check out a clothing factory across the river in Myanmar and a jade-exporting company in Thailand that is also close by. He was more vague on those and said he didn’t have any details for me at this time.”

“Being vague could mean that is where he plans to have you killed,” said Rose.

“Possibly, but he also mentioned that another company in the south of Thailand would later be checked, as well as one across the border in Malaysia.”

“Maybe your whole trip is legit,” said Dyck. “All this could be a waste of time and it might be some other trip when he plans to kill you.”

“I’ve thought of that. If there hasn’t been a move made to kill me by the end of this trip, I could hurry things along by telling Oskar that my previous company has offered me a large incentive to go back with them. If Pike the Spike or Killer Rabbit are already there, I think Oskar would decide to terminate my employment abruptly.”

“I’m sure you could convince Oskar to want to kill you,” said Rose. “The more I think about what you are doing, the more I feel like killing you myself. How the hell can we protect you over there?”

“Rose, I’m not suicidal. Our base of operation will be mostly in Thailand. I have worked with the Thai police before. As long as I have a cover team from Canada to work with them, I feel pretty comfortable.”

“You might feel comfortable, I don’t,” replied Rose. “How many members do you want with you? Bearing in mind that we are under tight budget restraints.”

“Foreign police, probably Thai, will be handling things, but I would still like a least one trained operator from Canada to liaison with them. I would also like someone with their equipment in hand should we get permission for wiretap. From what I know of a lot of developing countries, their bugging equipment isn’t much better than two cans connected with a string.”

“Are you thinking of getting a wiretap there?” asked Dyck.

“If someone tries to kill me, I am hoping it would be enough to convince a judge in Canada to authorize it,” said Jack. “If that happens, I am hoping that wiretap used in a foreign country would be admissible in Canada.”

“Your plan is to arrest whoever tries to kill you and get them to wear a wire to implicate who they work for,” said Dyck.”

“Exactly, but we would still need a judge’s order to wiretap the phones or install room and car bugs. Without that, we may never find out who Oskar’s boss is, let alone get evidence against him.” Jack looked at Connie and said, “What do you think? If a judge in Canada approves a wiretap, would using it in a foreign country be admissible in B.C.?”

“Providing that authorization was given prior to any bugs being planted for you over there.”

“Those guys go by the book,” said Jack. “No worries there.”

“I wonder how you know that,” mused Rose. “Sounds like you have tried to corrupt them before.” Before Jack could respond she held up her hand and said, “Don’t even go there. Instead of two people going with you, I will see that you have a three-man cover team, plus someone who knows their electronics.”

“I’d like to pick my team.”

“It’s your neck, I think you should have a say in who you want,” said Dyck.

“I want a trained cover man in charge of security, along with two trained UC operators to assist.”

“UC is something I know little about,” admitted Dyck. “Is there a difference between a cover man versus a UC operator?”

“A cover man has been trained not only in surveillance, but also to monitor the undercover operative’s psychological well-being, as well as to provide physical protection when possible. Not to mention looking after administrative duties and reports connected to the investigation. The UC operator, of course, has a completely different role.”

“So once in the field, who would be in charge?” asked Dyck. “Is it the cover man, the UC operator, or do you go by seniority or rank?”

“Matters relating to security are usually the responsibility of the senior member of the cover team, although it is usally done in agreement with the operator who might be in a better position to know if the presence of a cover team might do more harm than good. That being said, if the cover man figures the UC operative is getting out of line, he has the power to quickly pull the plug on the entire investigation. Often, an experienced UC operative can fill in as a cover man, but never the reverse.”

“In this case, I would expect it to be a joint decision when it comes to who is in charge in the field,” said Rose. “Jack would be directing the course of the investigation, but if the cover man feels Jack’s decision puts him at too much risk, then the cover man would have the power to veto Jack’s decision.”

“I see,” replied Dyck. “Continue.”

“My top pick for a cover man is a fellow who has provided me with protection on several UC operations. His name is Randy Hundt and he is currently a corporal in Kelowna Drug Section.”

“Randy Hundt?” said Dyck. “Have you talked to him recently?”

“A few days ago. He and his wife, Donna, are some of our closest friends, why? Do you know him?”

“No, but his name crossed my desk this morning. He has just been promoted to sergeant and is being transferred down here to MCU. He’ll be working for me.”

“That’s great news. You’ll be lucky to have him. The guy is a hard worker and the type to call a spade a spade.”

“Not a yes-man, I take it?” replied Dyck.

“No and he is not afraid to stand by what he says and put his name to paper. If he isn’t happy with something, you can expect a few memos to be landing on your desk.”

“Are there any reasons for picking him other than the fact that he is your friend?” asked Rose. “This is not some holiday you’re going on. I want the best people we have available —”

“He is the best,” said Jack.

“Why?” demanded Rose.

“Because he genuinely cares about doing the best job possible. He cares about the people he protects and has a terrific sense of humour that helps diffuse stressful situations. If that is not enough, there is one other thing.”

“That being?” asked Rose.

“The four of us are close friends. He would never be able to look Natasha in the eye if he were to let something happen to me. I’d trust him to make the right call more than anyone else.” Jack stared at Rose for a moment. “Enough said?”

“Enough said,” she replied. “What about the two operators you want to work for him?”

“Normally my first choice would be Laura, but she is looking after my neck in another matter.”

Laura nodded silently in response and subconsciously glanced at her laptop.

“So instead, given a choice, one of my top picks would be Willy Mineault from Victoria Drug Section. He and I have worked together in the past.”

“What makes him special?” asked Rose.

“The guy is a lousy poker player, so he’s always good for a few extra dollars in my pocket on a road trip,” replied Jack.

“Anything other than that?” smiled Rose, upon seeing a brief flash of shock cross Dyck’s face.

Jack became serious and said, “He has proven himself trustworthy to me. On one occasion, our cover was blown. It was a low-level operation, but the bad guys had their own telephone tap going, which we hadn’t anticipated at their level.”

“The bad guys were bugging phones?” exclaimed Dyck.

“More common that you might think,” replied Jack. “Anyway, they heard enough to clue in. We didn’t know we had been burned and met them at a bar. It was a set-up. A bad guy came up behind me and tried to smash a pool cue through the side of my temple. Willy saw it at the last second and yelled. He probably saved my life. Then the action really started. As I recall, Willy had a sleeve torn off a new leather jacket he was wearing, but took it all in stride. He never lost his cool and we traded jokes about the lousy service as we fought our way to the door. That investigation also included Randy Hundt, so we are familiar with each other’s personalities and get along well together, which can be critical under tense times.”

“Good enough,” said Rose.

“The next operator I would like would be Tina Chan from Vancouver Drug Section.”

“The Asian Heat,” Laura said with a smile.

“That’s her. We haven’t really worked on any UCs together, but I know she has a good sense of humour, which is critical to keeping the stress level down. More importantly, her Chineese heritage will allow her to fit in better over there.”

“Sounds like a good choice,” replied Rose. “Tech support?”

“As far as the bug planter goes, the best I know in the business is a guy by the name of Jim Purney.”

“How well do you know him?” asked Rose. “Have you actually seen him work in the field? The countries you’re going to be working in will be a lot more stressful and likely more technically challenging than hooking up a simple wiretap around here.”

How well do I know him? Jack smiled. Jim and his wife, Cathy, are also a couple of our closest friends … but he really is the best at what he does.

“I’m waiting,” prodded Rose. “Do you actually know how good this guy is or not?”

Jack decided not to mention the friendship. “I’ve watched him work before and the guy is amazing. I think he could plant a bug up your nose when you’re sleeping without even waking you up. He’s quiet by nature and has an analytical mind, yet he is also a big guy and one you could count on if things got rough.”

“Sounds like another good choice then,” said Rose. “If these people are available, I’ll do my best.”

“Thank you,” replied Jack.

“What about China and Myanmar?” asked Rose. “Will the police in those countries co-operate?”

“Actually, come to think of it, Jim Purney once told me he did some work in China before. He said it was good.”

“And Myanmar?” asked Rose. “I’m sure corruption there is a big issue. They’re a poor country.”

“I’ll contact the Australian or British Embassies to see what help or advice they can give. In the Golden Triangle region, I suspect we will rely on the Thai police. I’m sure they will have contacts in Myanmar. I’m told you could hit a golf ball across the river between the two countries at that point.”

“This whole scenario really gives me the creeps,” said Rose. “Just because we don’t have a wiretap, it doesn’t prohibit you from wearing a wire. I want one on you at all times.”

Jack tried to mollify Rose’s worry and said, “I won’t risk entering a situation if I don’t feel it is safe.”

“Like hell you wouldn’t,” said Rose, “so don’t try and pacify me with that bullshit. I’ve spent too many sleepless nights worrying about you during other investigations to know that isn’t true.” She turned to Laura and added, “And you, too, for that matter.”

“Sorry, Mom,” replied Jack.

Rose glared at Jack. “Did you hear me about wearing a wire? I mean it! If I am going to support this operation, you bloody well better be wearing one!”

Jack was going to protest and say half the time the wires broke down when they were most needed, or tell her about the number of times he had been searched or patted down, but decided against it.

“Are you listening to me?” demanded Rose.

“I’m listening,” said Jack quietly. “I will take every safety precaution I can.”

“I’ve heard that before,” said Rose sarcastically.

“I mean it,” said Jack earnestly. “Things have changed for me a lot on the home front. There is no way I want my wife to be a widow or my sons to be without a father.”

Rose grimaced at the thought.

“But as far as doing the UC, do we really have a choice?”

Rose felt the stress bring tears to her eyes and she clenched her jaw to control her emotions … then nodded in agreement.

Chapter Twenty-five

Over the next week, Jack received assistance from the Australian Embassy in Myanmar. They checked out the rice-exporting company and the names that Jack had been given by Oskar.

They reported that the company appeared to be legitimate. The Australians also recommended a hotel for Jack to use that was deemed appropriate for his entertaining needs. More importantly, they said they would also assist with looking after his personal security.

Jack then contacted the rice exporters in Myanmar. They were pleased that he wished to meet them and treat them and their wives to a dinner. It was agreed that everyone would meet at the Chatrium Hotel in Yangon on the evening of June 18.

The RCMP Liaison Officer stationed in Bangkok was also notified. Although the LO was unavailable to assist personally, he did arrange for a four-person Thai police security team to assist Jack in the Golden Triangle. Coupled with the four-person team from Canada, it was thought to be enough. Another RCMP LO in Beijing would also arrange security for Jack, should he be required to enter China.

On June 14, one day before Jack and the team were to depart, Rose called him into her office. When he was comfortable, she glared across the table at him and asked, “Did you ever happen to check Foreign Affairs and International Trade Canada’s website about travelling to certain parts of Myanmar?”

“I did. I noticed that they don’t particularly recommend some areas.”

“Don’t recommend?” said Rose, sarcastically. “Their recommendation is to avoid all travel in certain areas. Let me read it to you,” she said, turning her attention to a page she had printed out.

It advises against all travel to areas along the border with Thailand, China, and Laos due to clashes between the military and armed groups, ethnic conflict, banditry, and unmarked landmines in these areas which pose risks to the security of travellers. Sporadic fighting between military forces and non-state armed groups is occurring in Kachin, Shan, and Karen states bordering China and Thailand. Tens of thousands of civilians have been displaced internally and to neighbouring countries.

Rose looked up at Jack. “And tell me, what state borders the Golden Triangle?”

“Shan State, but you already knew that.”

“I wanted to make sure you knew,” replied Rose, briefly closing her eyes while she massaged her temples with her fingertips.

“I’ll be careful,” Jack assured her. “I’ll wear a wire and have backup. Oskar thinks I have asthma and am not athletic. Between me and the calvary I have for protection, if someone tries to stage an accident with me, they are in for a big surprise.”

“I don’t like it,” said Rose. “I’m tempted to cancel the whole deal.”

“So Oskar, or whoever pulls his strings, can send some other poor sap into a place like that? Someone who has no protection?”

Rose stared hard at Jack, but didn’t speak. A moment later he got up and returned to his office.

On the night of June 15, Jack checked in at the Vancouver International Airport for a red-eye flight to Bangkok. Travelling on the same plane with him was his cover team, comprized of Randy Hundt, Willy Mineault, and Tina Chan. The electronics specialist, Jim Purney, was also on board and would be part of the cover team when the situation called for it.

After an eighteen-hour flight, including a short stopover to change planes in Hong Kong, they landed in Bangkok and took a cab to the Miracle Hotel, which was located near the airport.

With the time difference, it was noon on June 17 in Bangkok when they checked into their rooms. Jack made a quick trip to a corner store and then returned to Randy’s room where everyone met to go over the plan again.

It had been decided that Jim, who was conscious of the electronic eavesdropping equipment he was carrying, would not enter Myanmar. Jim had previously received permission to have the equipment in Thailand and China, but had not sought permission for Myanmar out of fear of corrupting the integrity of the investigation.

It was not known what potentially corrupt contacts Oskar had in Myanmar, or if not him, then that of his taskmaster. Instead it was planned that on the following day Jim and Willy would fly to Chiang Rai in Thailand. Once there, they would rent a car to drive up to the Golden Triangle. This would give them a chance to check out the area prior to Jack’s arrival. Meanwhile, Randy and Tina would go to Myanmar on the same flight as Jack.

“Everyone clear?” asked Jack.

“An all-expense-paid holiday to Myanmar? What more could we ask for?” said Tina.

“Another shot of that,” said Willy, gesturing to the bottle of Thai Sangsom rum that Jack had brought to the meeting.

“You prefer that over my martinis?” said Jack, trying to sound hurt as he passed the bottle.

“Hey, you know I’m only learning to acquire a taste for this awful liquid so I’ll blend in like the locals.” Willy grinned. “Above and beyond the call of duty, actually.”

“Willy, I appreciate your dedication,” said Randy. “Remind me to recommend you for commendation when we get back to Canada.”

“Think I can claim the rum as a necessary expense when I get back?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know,” replied Randy. “They’re still looking at me sideways for approving that jar of olives you once claimed.”

“Seems to me, you had a few of those yourself,” replied Jack.

“Marinated, I presume?” said Tina.

“Oh yeah,” replied Randy, Willy, and Jack in unison.

Tina looked at Jim and he said, “Don’t look at me. I know all about Jack’s olive soup.” He took a swig from a can of Singha beer that he had scrounged from the minibar and said, “This is plenty potent enough for me.”

“So, Willy,” said Randy, “I brought a deck of cards with me. Anyone up for a little game of one-armed anaconda?”

“What the heck is that?” asked Tina.

Jack chuckled. “Randy tends to invent his own poker games. I don’t recommend you play.”

“Yeah,” grumbled Willy. “Like if it’s Thursday, then the four of clubs is wild, otherwise it is something else.”

“Like the guy with the axe,” said Jack. “Which translates to certain face cards.”

“Just thought I would try to give you a chance to get your money back,” replied Randy, sounding offended.

“No, thanks,” chimed Jack and Willy.

One hour later, when the bottle was empty, they all went to their rooms and slept.

It was ten o’clock in the morning on June 18 when the Bangkok Airways flight touched down on the runway in Yangon, Myanmar. As Jack waited to retrieve his luggage, he received a text message from Natasha. She wished him a happy birthday and sent him Mike and Steve’s love. He had forgotten that it was his birthday and felt a twinge of sadness that he wasn’t home to share it with those he loved.

He had previously given Natasha permission to contact him up until noon of that day. After that, contact by anyone would only be made in emergency situations. Jack smiled and reread the message before deleting it.

Minutes later, Laura also sent him a short text: H.B. Wish I could give you a present by telling you I double-tapped our friend, but no reason to … yet.

Jack might normally have sent back a humorous response, but Virgil was too evil and too dangerous to joke about. Besides … Laura isn’t joking …

Two hours later, Jack checked into the Chatrium Hotel and promptly received a knock on an adjoining door to his room. He answered and a young man stuck out his hand and said, “G’day, mate. ’Ow ya goin’?”

Jack saw that Randy and Tina were already in the room with his Australian contacts.

After the introductions were made, Randy held up a transmitter for Jack to wear and said, “This is a present for you from Jim Purney.”

“Forget it,” replied Jack, brushing Randy’s arm aside. “I’m going to be in a restaurant all night. If you see someone trying to stab me with a desert fork, shoot ’em.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you would say,” replied Randy, putting the transmitter down. “I didn’t think you would use it here, either, but wanted to give you the option. In the future, I’ll leave it up to your discretion. You’re best to know when you need it, or when you might be patted down.”

As it turned out, security was not needed. Jack’s dinner went as planned and he met his guests in a high-end restaurant in the hotel called The Emporia.

There were thirteen dinner guests. Six were couples and the one on her own was a beautiful young woman who was elegantly dressed. She introduced herself to Jack as Chit and sat beside him.

Everyone was friendly and most spoke a little English. Chit was too friendly, thought Jack, when she explained to him that in Myanmar her name meant love.

“Interesting,” said Jack.

“Yes,” said Chit, smiling, while reaching her hand under the table and patting his leg.

Jack realized she had been brought along for his pleasure and was glad he wasn’t wearing a wire. Chit used every opportunity she could think of to affectionately hug or pat him on his back or thigh during the course of the evening.

As the evening drew to a close, Jack received assurances from the exporters that they would welcome foreign capital in their company. Jack was assured that he would be the first to know once the opportunity presented itself.

The only look of disappointment was on Chit’s face when Jack turned down her suggestion that she should stay and have a drink with him after the rest had gone.

When he got back to his room he sent a text message to Oskar, saying all had gone well. He received a text back: Good. Meet you at the Imperial Golden Triangle around suppertime on the 20th.

The next day, Jack arrived back in Bangkok during the noon hour. Randy and Tina both scrambled to get their luggage and board a Thai Airways flight to Chiang Rai, departing at one-forty in the afternoon.

Randy and Tina would each rent cars in Chiang Rai to make the one-hour drive to the resort. They wanted it to appear like they were not together for surveillance duties later on.

Jack knew he was safe in the airport and was booked on a flight leaving Bangkok at suppertime. He had made arrangements with the hotel to pick him up at the airport in Chiang Rai.

Jack had previously been given the option by Oskar to stay in Bangkok overnight, as he was not required up at the Golden Triangle until the day after. Jack, however, wanted to get a layout of the hotel in the Golden Triangle, as well as whatever sites were around it. One such site, he figured, might be where someone planned to murder him.

All went as planned and Jack arrived in Chiang Rai on schedule. He was met in front of the airport by a man standing beside a silver van with IMPERIAL GOLDEN TRIANGLE RESORT emblazoned on the door.

The driver was friendly and was not the type to look around as he met Jack and loaded his luggage into the van.

This was something Jack was relieved about, because he noticed two men gesture to two other men parked on motor scooters, before getting into a nearby car. Jack periodically caught sight of the scooters and the car on their way to the resort.

The Thai police are on the job …

Jack checked into the hotel an hour later. It was located near the end of the main road which ran alongside a river in a small town called Chiang Saen. The hotel was beautiful with a huge lobby and was directly across the road from where the two rivers intersected to form the famed Golden Triangle.

An open walkway leading to the rooms ran along the back of the hotel. As Jack approached his room on the third level, a voice called out and said, “Excuse me, buddy, do you speak English?”

Jack looked past an open door to a room and saw Willy, with Jim in the background.

“I do speak English,” replied Jack. “What can I do for you?”

“Do you know where I could buy some olives?” Willy grinned as Jack approached.

“I’m not sure, I’ve just arrived,” said Jack. “But if you have the gin and vermouth, I’ll be sure to find some.”

“The hotel is practically deserted,” whispered Willy. “There is hardly anybody around except for hotel staff. The five of us and four Thai policemen make up most of guests.”

“So we stand out.” Jack frowned.

“I think it will be okay. It’s quiet at the moment, but it has been busy off and on.”

“Let me drop my bag off in my room and I’ll be right back.”

When Jack returned, Jim said, “Yesterday this place was packed with tourists, but they left on a couple of buses this morning.”

“Thai tourists?” asked Jack.

“No, mostly European and Chinese. Enough that we don’t stand out.”

“Good.”

“The Thai police followed you tonight from the airport,” said Willy.

“I know,” replied Jack. “They were a little obvious. Fortunately my driver wasn’t paying much attention.”

“I’ll speak to them,” said Willy. “They are eager and seem anxious to please. This is my room. Tina has the room next door. Randy and Jim are up on the fourth level and our four Thai friends are in two rooms on the fifth floor.”

“What’s the area like around the hotel?”

“Small town with lots of tourist shops,” said Willy. “Stretches down the road for about ten blocks. A bunch of massage parlours line one side of the street. You can walk across the road out front and get a boat across the river to Laos. There is a big casino there. You can see it easily from this side of the river.”

“Gambling isn’t my thing,” said Jack. “Anything else?”

“You can also go across the river to Myanmar. Other than that, there is not a lot to see. There is a big golden Buddha down the street that a few tourist buses pull up to once in a while. Most people stop for an hour or so and leave, except for the ones who decide to overnight.”

“Many other hotels around?”

“Not as nice as this,” said Willy. “The town itself is a little grungy farther on down. A guy might want to keep his wits together if he is out there drinking. Last night Jim and I went out and ate at a small place beside the river. I’m sure the owner was an ex-hooker. Friendly, but you could tell she had been around the block a few times.”

“I bet this was quite the place in its day, when boatloads of heroin were going through,” said Jim.

“That hasn’t entirely stopped, from what I know,” said Jack.

“The U.S. doesn’t think so, either,” said Jim. “There are benches all over town donated by the DEA, along with posters offering rewards for smugglers. It’s a bit like the Wild West out there.”

“Yeah, Asian-style,” said Jack. “So where’s the Sangsom?”

“Upstairs in Randy’s room,” Jim said, grinning, “if the rest of the team hasn’t finished it off. If you don’t feel like rum, I also have beer.”

“You guys go and I’ll sneak up in a few minutes. I received a text from Oskar confirming that he is arriving tomorrow, so everybody keep their distance then. If we need an emergency meeting, I’ll slip into Tina’s room.”

“At least you’re only on the third floor,” noted Willy. “Not high enough to get killed if you go over the balcony.”

“It’s being killed before I go over the balcony that concerns me,” replied Jack.

Later that night in Randy’s room, Jack was introduced to a Thai policeman by the name of Pom. Jack recognized him from being at the airport when he arrived. Pom looked to be about thirty years old and was physically fit. He was from Bangkok and was in charge of the team of Thai policemen that had accompanied him.

“You were the passenger in the car that followed me from the airport in Chiang Rai,” noted Jack.

“You know me from airport?” said Pom, in surprise.

Jack nodded.

Pom looked embarrassed. “Sorry if I watch too closely. Next time I more careful.”

“It takes practice. Some of the criminals we work on spend a lot of time looking to see if they are being followed.”

“And you remember me, so …” Pom smiled, “maybe we all not look same after all.”

Jack smiled back. He was glad that Pom had a sense of humour. He sensed that everyone would work well together.

The following day was uneventful for Jack as he did a little exploring on his own. There was a Thai temple on a hill near the hotel, along with dozens of tourist shops. He bought a silk scarf for Natasha and wooden hollow frogs for each of the boys. The frogs came with a stick held in their mouths. If you pulled the stick out and stroked it across bumps on the frogs’ backs, they would make a sound like they were croaking.

Randy sidled up to him after he paid for the items and whispered, “You cheap bastard, is that all you bought for Natasha? A scarf?”

“What did you get Donna?”

“A gold pendant of an elephant.”

“You asshole. I’m not making sergeant’s wages. I’m going to tell the girls that your conscience must be troubling you.”

Randy chuckled and moved away.

Jack continued to explore the town. He decided that Willy was right on his assessment that parts of the town were grungy and falling into disrepair. Across the street from the hotel, near the river’s edge, was an abandoned building that Jack figured had been a posh restaurant in its day. Now it was a decaying structure with an open wooden patio on the ground floor.

Jack went in and saw that the patio was built over a cliff. The rear of the patio was on stilts, three stories above the riverbank. He imagined that it would have been a popular location at one time for heroin dealers to sit and enjoy a cold beer while watching the boats arrive from Myanmar and Laos.

He was glad to see other tourists roaming around and obliged a few by taking their pictures overlooking the famed rivers. Most were European, but spoke good English. Jack smiled when he saw his cover team following nearby and snapping pictures like carefree tourists themselves.

That evening, Jack was in the hotel restaurant having dinner when Oskar arrived and walked over to join him.

As Jack stood up to greet him, another voice called out, “Hey, Jack! How you doing?”

Jack’s body tensed and his brain felt numb. “Stew Pot! What are you doing here?”

“Oskar hired me, too,” said Stew. “Isn’t this great!”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Later that night, Jack bade good night to Oskar and Stew. He was glad they were staying two floors above him, but was still careful when he tapped on the door to Tina’s room.

She opened the door and said, “Yes?” as if she did not know him.

“Noticed you were travelling alone and wondered if you would like some company,” said Jack.

Tina stuck her head out in the hall and saw that it was empty. She smiled and let Jack in her room. “Come on in, but if I sexually harass you, it’s your fault.”

Also in the room were Randy, Willy, Jim, and Pom.

“Everyone see the arrival?” asked Jack.

“Christ, I couldn’t believe it,” said Willy. “I thought that guy lost out to you when you were hired.”

“So did I,” replied Jack, shaking his head. “He goes by the nickname of Stew Pot. He’s a really nice guy.”

“I told you I should have broken his leg,” muttered Willy. “What the hell do we do? He looked pretty chummy when he was having dinner with Oskar tonight. Seeing as he just arrived, it will look really suspicious if we tell him and he suddenly up and quits.”

“It gets worse,” said Jack. “Ben Pike was also supposed to be arriving tonight, but apparently his flight was delayed in Los Angeles due to mechanical problems. Oskar said it looks like he won’t arrive until tomorrow night now.”

“If he’s coming to do a hit,” said Randy, “who on? You or Stew Pot?”

“Or maybe the both of you together,” commented Tina.

“Anything is possible,” replied Jack. “Their plans may have been skewed a little by the flight being delayed, as well.” He looked at Pom and asked, “Is there some way you could verify Ben Pike’s flight?”

“I call office at Bangkok,” said Pom, dialling his cellphone. Pom spoke rapidly in Thai and after hanging up, he said, “No problem. I get call back soon.”

Jack nodded. “Tomorrow Oskar wants Stew and I to go into Myanmar and check out a clothing factory in a city called Tachileik.”

“Tachileik is one-hour drive from here,” said Pom.

“That’s what Oskar figured,” replied Jack. “Originally Pike was suppose to come with us. According to Oskar, it’s a rough area.”

“It is dangerous,” agreed Pom. “It is busy for gangs to deliver heroin and speed out of Myanmar. Many people there are poor and desperate.”

“Maybe that’s the real reason Oskar had planned for Pike to be there,” said Jack, “although I had a sense that having a bodyguard was to impress the people we are dealing with.”

“A matter of image,” said Willy.

“Possible, but now that we have Stew Pot to protect, I convinced Oskar that it would be okay for Stew and I to do it alone, without Pike.”

“And he agreed to it?” asked Tina.

“Yes, I think he was going to suggest it, regardless. He arranged for a representative from the company to pick Stew and I up at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Oskar said he wasn’t going because he wanted to stay in his room with his laptop and do a bunch of paperwork.”

Jack looked at Pom. “Is there any problem with you and your team going Tachileik? Do you have contacts you can trust?”

“The contacts are maybe trust … maybe not. Better we go and if trouble, then I ask help for contacts,” replied Pom.

“I see,” said Jack, feeling uneasy. “The next day, on the twenty-second, I am supposed to check out a company in a place called Mai Sai.”

“Mai Sai is across river from Tachileik,” said Pom. “They are connected by bridge. Mae Sai has many tourists. Much shopping and is good. For why you go to Mae Sai?”

“To check out a company that exports jade jewellery,” replied Jack.

“Jade is popular in Mae Sai,” Pom said, nodding. “They bring stone from China and make jewellery. It then go to all places in world.”

“At least it sounds legit,” said Willy.

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” said Jack. “I haven’t told you about another problem. While I’m checking out the jade company, Oskar, Stew, and Pike are to fly to Kunming, China, to look at a copper-smelting company. Mr. Yu is to meet them there. Oskar, Pike, and Stew are then to return on the twenty-fourth.”

“We have everything arranged for security there,” said Tina. “You already knew that China was on the list.”

“But I didn’t know that it would be Stew Pot and not me who would be going. We need a game plan. If there is even a remote chance that we can’t protect him in China, we may have to risk telling him and getting him to quit.”

“When he just got here?” grumbled Willy. “That would blow us out of the water.”

“I do know something about the Chinese,” said Jim. “I’ve worked there before. I also spoke to our LO in Beijing. It would be normal for the Chinese to keep an eye on a businessman coming to China. Most people know that.”

“Actually Oskar mentioned that tonight. He joked that if you wanted to order some chop suey at night, speak into your pillow.”

“He may have a point,” said Jim. “What I was going to say was that they do not need an order like we do to get a wiretap. The idea of even a remote chance of a foreign businessman being murdered in their country does not sit well with them. Personally, I think security on Stew Pot would be tighter than what the U.S. president gets.”

“Judging by Oskar’s chop suey comment, it doesn’t sound like he plans on killing anyone in China,” said Randy.

“I agree,” replied Jack. “Still, we’ll need to have someone go to China to liase with them, as well as the LO. They will all be waiting in customs at the airport when the plane lands.”

“Do we draw straws?” asked Willy.

Jack looked at Randy. “Your call on this.”

Randy nodded. “I know the LO and the Chinese will have heavy security, but I think two should go.” He looked at Jim. “By the sounds of it, your services won’t be needed in China.”

“I agree,” replied Jim. “I might be of more use here.”

Randy looked to Tina. “You would fit in well, so you just volunteered.”

“Oh, great,” Tina said, smiling. “What if someone steals my ID and passport? I’ll be stuck there. Probably have to support myself by making tofu or opening a DVD burn shop or something.”

Randy grinned. “Willy, you go, too. I want the both of you at the airport before Oskar, Pike, and Stew get there.”

“Wee-hah!” chortled Willy.

“How hard would it be to have one of your men be the taxi driver for Oskar, Pike and Stew when they go to the airport?” Randy asked Pom. “Could it be done discreetly?”

“Easy to do,” said Pom. “Hotel here good. No tell bad guys.”

“Great. That takes care of Stew. As far as Jack goes, there will be enough of us left that we shouldn’t have a problem. Do you agree, Jack?”

“One hundred percent.”

“How long do you think it will take to check out the jade company?” asked Willy.

“I’m thinking only a day. I was told that once I did that, I could laze around for a day or two until everyone gets back.”

“Gee, he sounds like a really nice boss,” said Tina, sarcastically.

“Yes, I hear people are dying to work for him,” replied Jack. “After that, before returning to Canada, Stew and I are supposed to check out a company in southern Thailand and another one in Malaysia. The one in Malaysia is planning to build a huge tourist resort. The company in Thailand is said to be investing in green technology with biopolymers.”

“What are biopolymers?” asked Willy.

“Something made from living organisms. I don’t know much about it, other than it is better for the planet.”

“Where in Thailand?” asked Pom.

“A place near a city called Hat Yai.”

“That is on the border with Malaysia,” replied Pom. “It is not a good place.”

“Oskar said we would fly to an island in Malaysia called Langkawi, which is where the resort is being built. He said there is absolutely no danger in Langkawi, but that he and Pike would come along for a holiday. Hat Yai, back in Thailand, can apparently be done from there in a day trip. He said it had a bad rep and that Pike would go with us.”

“Sounds like we should keep our suitcases close at hand,” said Tina.

“You got it,” replied Jack.

Conversation stopped when Pom answered his phone. After a brief conversation he hung up and said, “Tomorrow, Ben Pike fly from Bangkok to Chiang Rai. He no get here before seven o’clock at night.”

“So if he is being brought to kill either Stew or I, at least our trip to the clothing factory in Tachileik tomorrow should be safe,” said Jack.

“We will still cover you to and from,” said Randy.

“For sure,” replied Jack, leaning back in his chair and stretching, “but tomorrow I think part of the team should stay and watch Oskar in case he does meet someone. I should mention that tonight, Oskar had Stew and I stand out on the restaurant patio where he took a picture of us. He acted like he was simply being friendly.”

“Think he had an ulterior motive?” asked Randy.

“The guy is a psychopath,” replied Jack. “Being friendly is only an act. I’m sure it was for a purpose.”

“Good enough,” replied Randy. “ So tomorrow, Jim and Willy, I’ll get you both to stay here and keep an eye on him, along with two from Pom’s team. Okay with you, Pom?”

“Okay me,” he replied.

“Tina, Pom, and one of his men will cover Jack and Stew,” continued Randy. He looked at Jack. “As an extra precaution, I would prefer it if you wore a wire. What do you think?”

“I agree,” replied Jack. “I hate doing it, but I figure it is more important to protect Stew in case something does happen.”

“For sure,” agreed Willy.

“Then it’s settled,” said Randy. “Tomorrow I’ll be the one to monitor the wire and will partner up with Pom in his car. Tina, you follow in your rental.”

“Got it,” replied Tina.

Randy looked at Jack. “Code word?”

“I’ll use pickle as a code word.”

“Pickle!” chuckled Randy. “Why not olive?”

“Because I was afraid you would think that was what I really wanted and run in with a jar of olives for me. No, if I think I need help, I’ll say something like, this is another fine pickle I’ve gotten into. You hear that, come in with your guns out.”

“We don’t carry guns. We’re in a foreign country, remember?” said Randy.

“I know, I meant Pom.”

“Speaking of which, Pom, can your team be armed in Tachileik?” asked Randy.

“Armed?” said Pom, looking at his arms.

“I mean carry guns. Can you go into Tachileik with your guns?”

“I no go there without one,” said Pom, looking seriously at Jack.

“I see,” said Jack. He looked at Jim and said, “Yes, I will definitely need to wear a wire tomorrow.”

“From what I hear, I don’t know if I’ll lend you one,” said Jim with a grin. “They’re expensive. I don’t want it coming back all shot up.”

“Thanks for the thought,” Jack said with a smile.

“And after tomorrow and China, then what?” asked Tina.”

Jack grimaced and shook his head. “I don’t know. Stew’s safety is top priority. We’ll have to play it one day at a time.”

“More like one second at a time,” replied Randy, sombrely. “The time it takes to snap someone’s neck.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

At ten o’clock in the morning, Jack and Stew were greeted by a Mr. Duwa in the lobby of their hotel. Mr. Duwa explained that he had a driver waiting outside to take them to his factory in Tachileik.

Jack and Stew got in the back seat of an older-model black Mercedes, while Duwa sat in the front. Jack said hello to the driver, who was a short, husky man with a face scarred with acne.

He grunted in response.

“His English no good as mine,” explained Duwa.

The one-hour drive to Tachileik was delayed briefly partway due to road construction. It was only at that point that Jack was conscious of a motor scooter that pulled up close to them, with the driver talking on a cellphone.

The scooter then roared by, dodging in and out past a grader on the road. Jack knew that it was one of the men from Pom’s team. He glanced out the back window of the Mercedes and did not see the two surveillance cars that he knew were following. It was a good sign. He knew the scooter driver had warned them. It meant the Thai were learning the art of surveillance.

The Mercedes crossed into Myanmar without a problem and minutes later, they pulled up to a large warehouse comprised of three levels.

The lower level contained rows of cardboard boxes packed with clothes.

“Here, ready for shipping,” explained Duwa, gesturing to a truck that had backed into a cargo bay, where workers started loading the truck. He pointed to another cargo bay where a truck was unloading bales of fabric. “Cloth come in here, go out there,” Duwal explained. “We handle much. If America or Europe want to buy, we can make.”

“That sounds good,” said Stew.

“We have lots of room to make more clothes, but need orders first,” said Duwa.

Jack and Stew followed Duwa up a flight of stairs, while the driver trailed behind them. The hum from hundreds of sewing machines greeted them before they arrived. The work area was a large, wide-opened expanse of workers. Piles of fabric and clothing were everywhere. Few of the workers cast so much as a glance in their direction, as they sat on hard, wooden self-adjusting stools, hunched over their work.

Some men, presumably foremen, slowly walked around while staring at the workers.

“What do they do?” asked Jack, pointing to one of the foremen.

“Make sure everyone work hard,” said Duwa. “Workers get lazy, then no get paid for day they lazy.”

“How many hours do they work?” asked Jack.

“Sixteen hours a day, unless we are busy and they work more,” said Duwa.

“Unless you are busy?” asked Stew, sounding incredulous.

Duwal pointed to several empty workstations where stools sat empty. “You can see, maybe one out of four empty. Bad economy. Very bad. I have much room to grow big. You invest and I hire more people.”

“How much are these people paid?” asked Jack.

“I pay good money. One dollar a day, except for what I charge for food and place to sleep.”

“The workers are fed here?” asked Jack.

“Yes, I feed them two times a day at work. Otherwise they get too tired and slow. I also have apartment building where they stay.”

“Do they get days off?” asked Stew.

“Days off? If they get sick … maybe one or two day okay and I no pay. Many people want to work. If they no want to work, no problem. I hire new people.”

“Their ages look to be from about sixteen to seventy,” said Jack. “Do you hire younger workers?”

“No. I know Westerners no like sweaty kid shop. People here happy to work.” Duwa yelled something out in Myanmarese and numerous workers paused, looked at Stew and Jack, then smiled and gave the two men a friendly wave.

“You see?” said Duwa. “Every bodies happy to work. We do good job. Cheap. More cheap than every ones. You invest in our company, you get number-one deal. Best in Myanmar.”

“Could we go upstairs?” asked Jack.

“Upstairs is same,” said Duwa. “No need to see.”

“I would like to see,” said Jack, “so I can get a visual idea of how big your operation is and how much room you have for expansion.”

Duwa shrugged and led Jack and Stew up to the top floor. It was basically the same as the one they had seen, with the exception that an office was located at the far end with glass windows looking out over the workers.

“My office,” said Duwa, when he saw Jack looking. “You happy with what you see? You go tell your boss you are happy?”

“I see potential,” said Jack, “but there would have to be some changes.”

“Changes?”

“To start with, wages may need to be improved,” muttered Stew.

“I pay them more money, then mean you have to pay more,” explained Duwa, in a tone of voice one might use to explain something simple to a child.

“Are you familiar with a concept known as fair trade?” asked Jack.

“Fair trade?”

“Didn’t think so. Basically a lot of people in richer countries don’t mind paying a little more, if they know that the people doing the hardest work are getting fairly paid.”

“The hardest work?”

“The people at the bottom … these people,” said Jack, with a wave of his hand toward the factory floor. “Being fair is what I am talking about.”

“I pay them fair. I always fair,” said Duwa, indignantly.

“It might be fair in Myanmar, but it would not be seen as fair in the countries where you hope to sell your clothes. You would sell more clothes if it was known that you were not the cheapest, but the most generous with your workers. People would feel good when they wear the clothes, knowing that they are helping other people who are less fortunate.”

“And they pay more to feel good?” said Duwal.

“Yes, that would be a major marketing tool and could also open up the wallets of people who would be willing to invest in your company.”

“How much more they pay?”

“Stew and I are here to see if there is potential and to see what changes would have to take place. Talks with other people may come later, providing you are open, honest, and willing to make some changes.”

“You can see that I am like that. You tell your boss, I good, yes?”

“We will tell him.”

Duwa looked pleased. “Okay, I buy you lunch before I take you back to hotel.”

Duwa treated Jack and Stew to lunch on the Thai side of the border in Mae Sai at an outdoor restaurant. It was a hot and humid day and when Jack sat he was careful that his sweat-soaked light cotton shirt did not reveal a wire leading to the microphone taped to his chest.

During lunch, Jack saw Randy standing in the sun on the opposite side of the street as he pretended to browse amongst some tourist stalls. Jack slowly raised his glass of cold beer in Randy’s direction and took a couple of slow sips. He hid his smile when Randy looked at him and pretended to rub his eye with his middle finger.

After lunch, Duwa waved to his driver who had been waiting patiently under an awning and told him to go get the car.

“Stew and I were saying earlier that we wanted to do a little shopping in Mae Sai before heading back,” said Jack, hoping that Duwa did not see the surprised look on Stew’s face.

“I can have my driver pick you up after and take you back,” offered Duwa.

“No, that is not a problem,” replied Jack. “I’m not sure how long we will be, but I don’t want to feel rushed, so we’ll take a taxi back to the hotel.”

Duwa nodded and they said their goodbyes moments later.

As soon as Duwa and his driver left, Stew said, “You want to go shopping?”

“No,” said Jack. “We’re going back to Duwa’s factory for a surprise visit.”

“What on earth for? What do you think we’ll see that we haven’t already?”

“Didn’t you notice all the empty stools in the place?” asked Jack.

“Yes, because of the economy. Twenty-five percent were empty.”

“Did you happen to notice that most of the stools where nobody sat were adjusted much higher than the others?”

“What do you mean? I don’t get what … children! You think —”

“Yes. I don’t think Mr. Duwa was being entirely honest with us.”

“That sneaky —”

“Let’s wait an hour and go back. In the event someone is watching us, we’ll shop for half an hour, then take a taxi out of town toward our hotel in Chiang Saen. Then we’ll double back to the border to get another taxi to take us to the factory.”

“If you are right, they might not appreciate us finding out,” Stew said apprehensively. “Maybe we should wait until tonight when the guy from corporate security arrives and come back with him.”

I’d rather take my chances with the Myanmarese, than corporate security …

“Some of the people in there looked like pretty rough individuals,” continued Stew.

The people I saw in the factory looked to be hard-working blue-collar types. I can handle them. The real murderers are wearing white collars …

“Well? Do you agree?” asked Stew.

Jack shrugged. “With flights these days, Pike could easily be delayed. Tomorrow you’re booked to go to China.

Stew didn’t reply, but bit his lower lip as he thought.

“It is getting late though,” noted Jack. “I also have to come back tomorrow to check out a jade factory. There’ll probably be time for me to slip across the border and do a surprise visit then.”

Stew’s mouth dropped open. “By yourself?” He shook his head. “Not a chance, buddy. We’ll do it together.” He gave Jack a friendly punch on the arm and added, “Don’t worry. I’ve been in some tough places in the world. I can handle these guys.”

“Been in a few scraps, have you?”

“Well … nothing physical … but I’ve travelled through some pretty poor countries. Places where you wouldn’t dare take your eyes off your luggage for fear someone would steal it. ”

“I see.”

Stew gave a reassuring nod. “Stick with me and you’ll be okay.”

“Thanks, Stew Pot. You’re a good guy.”

During the next half-hour, Jack and Stew browsed through some tourist shops. When Stew was at the far end of one store, Jack used the opportunity to stand near Tina and tell her what was going on.

“You sure it’s a good idea?” she asked. “Maybe you should just ignore it.”

“I thought of that, but Oskar does do some legitimate work. You didn’t see these people in the factory. They’re like slaves, working sixteen hours a day, probably more.”

“They may be upset at you catching them.”

“Naw, I’m not worried about them. They’re not gangsters or dope dealers. This could be a chance to improve their lives. I feel pretty comfortable with it. If my hunch is right, we’ll probably end up in Duwa’s office talking to him for a while.”

“Where’s his office?”

“Top floor at the back.”

“How many workers in the place?”

“I’d guess about a dozen on the lower level and about two hundred on each of the two levels above.”

“So let me do the math,” said Tina. “Randy and I, plus Pom and one of his guys makes four. So if everyone in there decides they don’t appreciate your return visit and you end up in trouble, it will take us about twenty seconds to get to the building, then all we have to do is fight our way past four hundred people while we climb up a set of stairs to the third level and across a factory floor.”

“Sounds about right, except it’s not one set of stairs. The ceilings are really high. Each level has two long flights of stairs separated by a small landing. So you’re looking at four sets.”

“Having small landings makes me feel better. It will give us a place to rest on our way. Of course, they might immediately cut you both to pieces and toss you out the window to feed all the stray dogs I’ve seen running around.”

“Do you know how to sew?”

“Yeah, why?”

Jack smiled. “Well, if we’re in pieces, you can put us back together.”

“Yeah, I think they tried that with Humpty Dumpty,” replied Tina, sarcastically. “It didn’t turn out so well.”

“I once heard from a good informant that Humpty Dumpty was pushed. I should probably mention that to Major Crimes.”

Upon returning to the factory, Jack and Stew had the taxi stop about a block away and told him to wait. Once they were out of the taxi, Jack said, “My idea is to head in and waste no time going up to Duwa’s office. If kids are working, we’ll see them on the way. Once we reach Duwa, I am sure we can calm the situation if things turn ugly. He’s a businessman and we’ll be able to reason with him.”

“Hope so,” replied Stew.

The bottom of the factory erupted into a lot of yelling as Jack and Stew went in and headed straight for the stairwell. More yelling and a couple of workers appeared on the stairway at the second level, but Jack and Stew pushed past them to look. There were many children, some as young as eight or nine years old, gawking at them from where they sat at sewing machines, while other children were scurrying around and trying to hide behind piles of clothing.

Jack and Stew then raced up to the third level. The building was in pandemonium and when they arrived at the top of the stairs, several workers stood in the doorway and raised their hands to block their entry. Jack could see that it was more of a gesture and in the yelling and confusion, they appeared uncertain as to what to do. He simply pushed past them with Stew close behind.

Once on the factory floor, Jack and Stew boldly walked to Duwa’s office at the rear. It was then that a nervous secretary told them that Mr. Duwa was gone for the day.

Jack and Stew glanced at each other and turned as a mob of angry men approached while shouting at them in Myanmarese. Several were carrying long-handled steel pipes used for truck jacks, while others were waving wooden slats taken from damaged pallets.

“God, no!” screamed Stew, staring open mouthed at the pointed ends of nails protruding from some of the slats. “They’re going to kill us!”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Randy, Tina, Pom, and a young man who worked for Pom, all sat in one car a short distance down the alley from the factory. Tina was in the driver’s seat and had the car running, while Randy sat beside her and monitored the transmitter taped to Jack’s chest.

Randy had the option of using an earpiece connected to a receiver and a recorder, but he had pulled out the earpiece in this instance to allow everyone to hear.

The yelling and uproar came through the receiver clearly when Jack and Stew entered the factory. More screaming and the pounding of feet running on steps could be heard as Jack and Stew ascended the stairs.

“I can’t hear what they’re saying!” exclaimed Tina.

“I’ll turn it up,” said Randy. “I can hear Jack panting … or maybe it’s Stew Pot. Jack said something about kids and going up to the third,” he added, as he strained to make out what was happening over the din.

More yelling ensued when Randy said, “Sounds like Duwa isn’t there. Maybe they’ll have to come back when —”

Randy was interrupted by Stew Pot’s cry of terror.

“Christ,” said Tina, throwing the car into drive.

“Not yet!” yelled Randy, as he caught a glimpse of Pom pulling out his gun while telling his subordinate to do the same.

“What do you mean, not yet?” yelled Tina. “They’re in trouble! We gotta get in there!”

“Jack hasn’t given the code word yet.”

“Are you kidding me?” yelled Tina. “Maybe he forgot, or is too damn scared to remember!”

“No, I’ve worked with Jack,” said Randy, trying to keep the tension out of his voice so everyone would calm down. “He wouldn’t forget. If he wants us, he’ll let us know. Everyone shut up so I can hear.”

“Hello, did we catch you at a bad time?” asked Jack, looking at the angry mob in front of him. “Does anybody speak English?”

“You come to steal our jobs!” yelled a heavy-set man, shaking a steel pipe in the air.

“You think I am here to steal your jobs?” Jack furrowed his eyebrows as if confused.

“Our children’s jobs!” the man responded.

“Just a minute, we will see,” said Jack, as he walked over to a sewing machine that a worker had vacated after sewing one sleeve on a shirt. Jack sat down and the crowd gathered around him, while arguing with each other.

Jack ignored them and after a couple of failed attempts, where he bunched too much fabric under the needle, he finally sewed a stitch and stood up.

“Maybe I steal your jobs,” said Jack, sounding optimistic, as he tried the shirt on. His arm came up short and the crowd realized he had sewn the sleeve shut. “No, your job is too hard,” said Jack, frowning. “I can’t steal it.”

It brought a couple of smiles and a few people lowered their clubs, but not all.

“Our children’s jobs,” persisted the man. “I know. You see and you tell people, no give money to buy clothes.”

“What is your name?” asked Jack.

“Why?” said the man defensively. “My name no important. Jobs is important.”

“My name is Jack,” he said, sticking out his hand. “And this is my friend Stew.”

The man refused to shake hands and said something to the others, who brandished their clubs again.

“Oh, God,” moaned Stew.

“Why do you think we came back?” asked Jack.

“To see our childrens working,” replied the man angrily.

“I already knew children were working,” said Jack. “The height of all the empty stools told me that.”

Jack waited as the man translated to the others and he saw several people look at the vacant stools and nod.

“So why do you think we came back if we already knew?” asked Jack.

The man frowned and spoke to the group. Most shrugged in response. “So why you come back?” asked the man.

“To help your children,” replied Jack.

“You no help to take away job. Children go hungry, or have sex for money.”

“I know, which is why I came back to see if we could help. Do you have children working here?”

The man nodded and held up three fingers.

“Would you like it if one day your children became bosses? Making more money and perhaps not working so hard?”

The man stared at Jack and did not answer until someone shouted at him from the crowd, then he responded to that person before saying, “That will never happen. Why you talk like that?”

“I have already spoken to Mr. Duwa and told him that people in other countries will pay more money to buy your clothes if they think they are helping poorer people.”

“Children in Myanmar not rich like America,” said the man angrily. “They must work.”

“I know, but you’re not listening to me. What if enough extra money is paid for the clothing that the children would not have to work so many hours in the factory? What if there was money to pay for a teacher to teach the children at the factory so they could get better jobs and make more money? Maybe learn English like you do and get jobs in hotels or restaurants. Some of these children may end up being bosses here. Maybe one of your own children.”

“They would pay that much money?”

“That is what we want. For people in many countries, it is not that much more money because they get paid more. For people here, the difference means a lot.”

The man thought it over and at the crowd’s insistance, translated it to them. People who had been holding weapons looked embarrassed and lowered their weapons as they all talked amongst themselves.

Eventually the man turned his attention back to Jack. “When?” he asked. “When it happen?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jack. “I wish it were happening now. Fair trade is catching on in some parts of the world, but many more people need to be educated about it. It will take time. Measures have to be put in place to make sure the money reaches the right people.”

“What is fair trade?”

“Where richer people pay more money to people who are doing the hard work. To pay them what is fair. For people like you and your children. I have talked to Mr. Duwa about it.”

“He no here.”

“I know. You tell him that I will meet him tomorrow for lunch at the same place. I would like to talk to him again.”

The man nodded.

“Before we go, can I help you with the truck?” asked Jack.

“No … truck is okay,” replied the man, sounding puzzled.

“I thought maybe it had a flat tire,” said Jack, gesturing to the pipe the man was holding from the truck jack.

He gave a toothless smile and said, “I think whole building have flat. Maybe you can fix that.”

Rabbit heard the boarding announcement in the Hong Kong airport. He studied the picture of Jack and Stew on his phone again, before pushing the delete button.

Before he put his phone away, he smiled to himself.

Soon, Jack, I will be deleting you …

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Jack and Stew were barely out of the factory when their taxi pulled up and they got in. “Back to the border crossing,” ordered Jack.

“Man, you, you saved my life in there,” said Stew. His body was starting to shake and Jack knew it wasn’t from the air-conditioning.

“Not really,” said Jack. “They weren’t going to kill us. Bet there wasn’t a murderer amongst them. They are really just a hard-working bunch of people who simply needed reassurance that we weren’t there to hurt them.”

“Hurt them! Are you blind? Didn’t you see the clubs they were carrying? They were going to kill us!”

“No, that was for show to scare us. They’re basically nice people, but a little stressed over their situation.”

“Well if they wanted to scare me, they sure as hell succeeded. I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t there. I’m going to tell Oskar that you deserve a medal.”

“Uh, please don’t mention the hot reception to Oskar. Say we saw some kids and that I made an arrangement to meet Duwa again tomorrow.”

“Why not? Man, you are one cool dude. Don’t be so modest.”

“We’re new on the job. If Oskar heard what really happened, he might be upset that we took a chance like that. I would feel much more comfortable if we left that part out.”

Stew looked at Jack strangely, but shrugged and said, “Okay, if you say so.”

Jack could see that Stew was still trembling and knew that if Oskar saw him, he would know that something happened. “Tell you what, Stew, I don’t see any rush to get back. Once we reach the border, maybe we should stop for a drink before going back to the hotel.”

“I think I could use one,” agreed Stew. He looked at Jack sideways for a moment and said, “You know, I really underestimated you. I think I owe you an apology.”

“How so?”

“Well, from a comment that Oskar made about you having asthma and not being into sports or anything, I sort of took you for being a little on the wimpy side. That’s why I really didn’t want you going in there alone. Boy, was I ever wrong.”

Jack smiled and said, “I have my moments.”

That night at the hotel restaurant, Oskar, Jack, and Stew were eating when Ben Pike arrived. He was a squat, husky man with a neck the same size as his head. His red hair was cut short in a brush cut.

Jack smiled to himself when he recalled Tom Donald, the first murder victim’s friend, saying that Pike walked like a gorilla. It was a good description. The man’s chest and arms were muscular and Jack had little doubt about Pike’s ability to silently kill a person.

Introductions were made and Jack could see Pike sizing them up. Pike was polite, but Jack caught the subtle sneer of disrespect on his face when they shook hands. My reputation for being a wimp has been passed along …

Early the following morning, Oskar, Pike and Stew met in the hotel lobby, while one of Pom’s men assumed his new role as a taxi driver and loaded their luggage into a hotel van to take them to the airport.

“I’ll bring you back some chopsticks,” Stew said with a smile as he shook Jack’s hand goodbye.

“Sounds good. See you in two days,” replied Jack.

Stew then took Jack aside and whispered, “You’ll stay out of Myanmar, right?”

“No problem. I’ll meet Duwa for lunch in Mae Sai and go over a few things, but that’s all.”

“Personally I think Pike should be with you. We don’t need him where we’re going.”

“I think Oskar wants to have a bodyguard to impress Mr. Yu. Don’t worry about me. I’m not the kind of guy to take risks.”

“After yesterday, I’m not so sure,” said Stew, shaking his head.

“Ah, they weren’t really bad guys. I knew that going in.”

“How?”

“I could feel it in my heart. I believe that people are basically good.”

Stew shook his head in wonder. “Oh, man, Jack. Be careful, will you? People might be basically good, but don’t be naive, either. There are some really bad people in this world.”

“Thanks, Stew Pot. I’ll try to remember that.”

Jack stayed at the hotel for the next four hours until the security team returned from the airport. They reported that Oskar, Pike, and Stew had boarded their flight, along with Willy and Tina, who had blended in with the other passengers.

“Now, back to Mai Sai?” asked Randy.

Jack nodded. “I’ve contacted Duwa and will be meeting him for lunch at the same place as yesterday. After that, I will be going to the jade factory, which is walking distance from the restaurant.”

“You’ll wear a wire?” confirmed Jim.

“For sure. If someone does try to kill me, I want everything recorded. If we get that evidence, we should be able to flip them and also get a wiretap order from a judge.”

“And if someone does kill you, I guess the plan wouldn’t change,” said Jim, wryly.

“Somebodies kill you, they die,” said Pom, matter-of-factly.

Jack was going to ask Pom if he was referring to the capital punishment that was occasionally handed out by the courts in Thailand, but decided against it. Either way, it wouldn’t help me …

Jack’s luncheon with Duwa was uneventful. Duwa was well aware that Jack and Stew had returned to his clothing factory and had seen the children. He apologized profusely for trying to deceive them and hoped it wouldn’t jeopardize any future investments.

Jack told Duwa that with his co-operation, the future could be better for everyone concerned and bade him goodbye before continuing on to the jade factory.

The jade factory was being run by a standard that would be accepted in most Westernized countries. Jack had a tour of the entire operation, from where large chunks of jade arrived from China, to where they were carved down to make sculptures or small pieces of jewellery for worldwide shipment.

The factory itself was filled to capacity and Jack noticed that all the workstations were active … with adults. With proper marketing to promote further business, the factory would likely be a good investment.

Jack purchased a small green pendant for Natasha that was carved to look like a leaf and returned to the Imperial Golden Triangle Hotel. It was suppertime, but he still emailed a brief report to Oskar about the jade factory and reported the conversation he had with Duwa over lunch.

Instead of having dinner at the hotel, Jack strolled through the town in search of a different restaurant. In the centre of town was a large golden Buddha that stood a couple of stories high. It was a drawing point for numerous tourists.

Jack spoke to a few tourists and discovered that most were from a variety of countries in Europe. People were generally friendly and in a festive mood. Thailand was not adverse to people drinking in public as was evidenced by some of the tourists who walked about with open liquor.

Farther along, Jack found a small, dilapidated restaurant that overlooked the river facing Laos. It was an open-air establishment with no walls and only a roof. Despite the sad condition of the restaurant, the smell of the food being cooked barbecue-style in the restaurant appealed to him. It was also crowded with many of the locals, which Jack took as a sign that the food would be good.

He took a seat overlooking the river. To his left, he could see where the two rivers joined each other. It was getting dark, but he could still make out Myanmar on the far side of the second river.

The Golden Triangle was aptly named. Many gangs of thugs had made a lot of money from heroin shipments being funnelled through where the rivers met. With the numerous reward posters slapped on telephone poles by the American Drug Enforcement Agency, it was obvious that drug smuggling was still a problem.

Jack enjoyed a delicious meal of pork cooked in a sauce with fresh green pepper that was still on the stem. He also enjoyed some Singha beer with his meal. There were a few tourists in the restaurant, allowing Jim and Pom to come in and order a meal without drawing attention.

“What, no food for you, Randy?” whispered Jack into the microphone taped to his chest. “Too bad. The Singha beer is delicious. With all this heat and humidity, I think I’m going to order another one.” Somewhere, in the darkness outside, Jack envisioned Randy grinning while silently cursing him at the same time.

After dinner, Jack wandered amongst some tourist shops, but most were closed for the night.

“Hey, buddy,” yelled Randy, “Can you tell me how to get to the casino over there in Laos?” he said, pointing to the large casino on the opposite side of the river.

“I think you go to a little customs hut down the street where you can catch a boat,” said Jack, as he approached Randy. “I could walk you over to it if you like?”

“You’ve got a tail,” whispered Randy, as soon as they were close. “Someone has been with you since you left the restaurant. Big guy, wearing a black hoodie. He was outside watching you when you were eating.”

Jack felt the rush of adrenalin. “Where is Hoodie now?” He spoke quickly while pointing in the direction of the customs hut.

“In the shadows half a block behind you. Jim, Pom, and his crew have him covered. It’s your call, what do you want to do?”

“Have to get him to try and make an attempt on me,” said Jack. “Keep your earpiece in and listen.”

“How the hell will you do it without him actually succeeding?” asked Randy, while making a pretext of looking in the direction Jack had pointed. “These guys are mercenaries. Trained killers. You and I together couldn’t handle him.”

“If he thinks I’m drunk, he might get a little careless. He won’t be expecting me to know what he is about to do, let alone defend myself. I’ll block his first blow and run like hell. Just make sure you guys are close.”

“Maybe you should be drunk. It might not hurt so much when he kills you.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” replied Jack.

“So where do you want to do it?” asked Randy, looking at his watch as if wondering if the customs hut was still open.

“Across from our hotel is an abandoned building built over a cliff. Think it used to be a restaurant and is open on three sides. It would be an ideal place for him to attack.”

“Yeah, I know the place. I checked it out when I first arrived.”

“I’ve seen a few tourists go in there because the entrance is at street level, but the back of it is about three stories high and overlooks the river. It’s a good viewpoint. He shouldn’t suspect anything if I wander in there and it would be an ideal place for him to attack.”

“And if he does?” asked Randy.

“I might be able to get him to say something incriminating. Then if he comes at me, I’ll dodge and run. I might even jump over the railing to get away.”

“Three stories … and it’s rocky along the river’s edge. You’d probably break a leg or something. ”

“That’s only off the back,” replied Jack. “It’s less than that going down the side and the front is at street level. Besides, better a broken leg than a broken neck. Make sure you guys are close enough to get in there quick, but not close enough to tip him off as to what is going on.”

“I might be there quick, then again, I might stop to enjoy a cold beer. I hear the Singha tastes really good.”

“Damn it, karma strikes again,” Jack said, grinning.

“I better go. We’ve been chatting together long enough. Good luck, buddy.”

After Randy walked in the direction of the custom’s hut, Jack went to a convenience store and purchased a mickey of Sangsom rum. When he left the store, he opened the bottle and pretended to guzzle it as he walked.

As Jack strolled down the street, he took his time, pausing in more crowded areas to look at various tourist spots. At one point he found a grassy location and pretended to adjust his sandal, while discreetly pouring most of the rum into the grass.

Jack’s walk became more of a stagger as he slowly made his way back up the street. The Imperial Golden Triangle Hotel was across the street on his left. Leading up to the hotel and on the same side of the street, were a row of closed booths that were shrouded in darkness.

Jack saw that Hoodie had passed him on the opposite side of the street and was hiding in the shadows. There were no other hotels past this point and it was anticipated that Jack would cross the street to go to the hotel.

Jack decided he would stick with the original plan and continued on down the street. He paused in front of a small open-air restaurant while pretending to drink from the mickey and saw Hoodie quickly cross the street farther behind him. Jack swayed slightly on his feet and gawked toward Hoodie, who pretended to look out toward the river while waiting to see what Jack would do next.

Jack saw more figures moving amongst the shadows behind Hoodie and knew his cover team was closing in.

There was an empty lot leading up to the abandoned building and Jack made a show of trying to take one more guzzle of rum. He then shook the empty bottle as if discovering it was empty. “Wha’ the fuck!” he slurred, before tossing the bottle into the deserted lot.

As Jack staggered along the street, he could hear Hoodie’s footsteps quicken as he closed in.

Chapter Thirty

“Excuse me, sir! I am wondering if you could take my picture? Do you speak English?”

Jack saw a tourist standing inside the abandoned building. Damn it! Not now … He glanced back at Hoodie who was too close to pretend to linger and would be forced to keep walking.

“Sir?” asked the tourist.

“Uh, yeah, okay,” said Jack as he entered, but pretended to stagger and leaned over the railing facing the street as though he might be ill. Hoodie gave a furtive glance at the tourist, then kept his head down and walked past.

“Sir, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” snapped Jack. He didn’t want to strike up a friendly conversation and hoped the man would leave as soon as possible.

Conditions could not have been better for what he planned. He had opportunity to escape from the building and there were more than enough people on his cover team to subdue Hoodie. Martial arts would be no match for the guns that Pom and his men carried.

“Just a picture of me sitting on the railing with the river behind me,” said the tourist, extending his hand to pass Jack the camera.

Jack nodded and pretended to study the camera, while watching Hoodie cross to the far side of the street again and step into the shadows. It caused a problem for part of the cover team who were forced to continue walking past, but there was a bend in the street and Jack knew they would be able to double back and use some bushes for cover.

“You push the little silver button on the top,” offered the tourist, trying to be helpful.

“I know how to use a camera,” said Jack, sounding sarcastic. He took a picture and quickly handed the camera back.

“Oh, dear,” said the man, as he took the camera and turned and looked over the railing.

“What now?” asked Jack.

“My glasses. They were in my case and I had set them on the balcony. They must have fallen off. I’m practically blind without them.

Jack peered over the edge. There was some light reflecting onto the rocks below and a small path wound its way alongside the building to the rear.

“I’m nervous to go down there and look,” said the man. “Would you mind waiting until I get them? In case I fall or something.”

“You stay and I’ll go look for them,” said Jack.

Moments later, Jack paused near the front corner of the building, pretending to steady himself, as he stared at the path going down to the riverbank. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hoodie watching from the shadows farther down the street.

Good. Wait another couple of minutes and come back and join me. We’ll have a little surprise for you …

Once Jack was at the bottom of the path, he carefully stepped out onto the rocks and broken pieces of concrete that lined the riverbank. He was confident that Hoodie would wait for the tourist to leave before making his move, but still kept an eye on the spot where the path rounded the building.

Moments later, he saw the tourist round the corner and head straight for him. The tourist had an odd gait, seeming to bounce with each step. His eyes were focused on Jack and he moved with agility as he left the path and deftly leaped from rock to rock toward him.

Rabbit!

Jack had about three seconds before contact and knew that once alerted, it would still take his cover team at least thirty seconds to assist. To turn and try to run on the rocks would also leave him open as an easy target.

“This is a hell of a pickle!” yelled Jack, before stumbling and falling. He regained his balance with one hand and stood up as Rabbit closed in.

Jack tried to smile innocently, while swaying on his feet as Rabbit quickly drew back his fist in a classic karate attack. The stance was intended that the fists would work opposite of each other, while one drew back, the other struck.

Randy and Jim had managed to circle back and found a place to watch Hoodie from the parking lot of the Imperial Golden Triangle Hotel. The lot was directly across the street from the abandoned building.

Pom and two of his men had remained farther down the street past Hoodie, but had positioned themselves in some bushes that were close to him.

Randy heard Jack’s unexpected code word for help over his earpiece.

“Oh, shit! Jack’s in trouble!” yelled Randy.

As Randy and Jim ran across the street, Jim radioed Pom that help was needed immediately. Neither Randy or Jim waited for Pom as they ran down the path leading to the riverbank.

Pom and one of his men followed seconds behind. Hoodie, alerted by the yelling tried to run away, but was pursued and tackled by another man from Pom’s team.

Jack blocked the first blow that Rabbit aimed to his solar plexus. He believed that following a punch to his solar plexus, Rabbit would likely deliver a blow to the base of his neck, while simultaneously smashing his head back with his other hand.

Rabbit’s face registered a slight flicker of surprise when Jack blocked the first blow. Killing an unsuspecting drunk should have been easy.

“Rabbit!” Jack yelled, thinking his knowledge of his name would shock him and cause him to stop.

Rabbit’s face registered shock, but instead of slowing him down, it appeared to motivate his actions further. His opposite fist moved with lightening speed and he muttered, “You’re dead, you fucker,” as he directed his second blow at Jack’s groin.

Jack turned slightly sideways, absorbing the blow to his hip and striking back.

He only hit Rabbit once, but it was enough. The fist-sized piece of concrete Jack had picked up when he pretended to stumble found its mark on Rabbit’s temple.

Rabbit fell to the ground like his body was made of Jell-O. Jack quickly rolled him over onto his stomach and grabbed his arm, forcing it up his back to pin him in place.

“Guess what, asshole, I’m not the drunken wimp you expected!”

Rabbit did not reply and Jack realized that his body was completely limp. Still holding his wrist, Jack felt for the pulse in the carotid artery. There was none.

“We’re here!” yelled Randy, as he rounded the corner first, followed by Jim and then Pom, who aimed his gun at Rabbit.

“No need,” said Jack, standing up. He felt his hands trembling from how close he had come to being killed and folded his arms across his chest. He nodded toward the corpse. “That is one dead bunny.”

Chapter Thirty-One

With the time difference, it was only six o’clock Friday morning when Staff Sergeant Rose Wood answered the phone on her bedside table and listened as Jack explained what had happened.

“I knew it wouldn’t go according to plan,” said Rose, dryly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you weren’t hurt, but I thought the idea was to take him alive and get him to co-operate.”

“I tried,” said Jack. “He wasn’t about to listen. It was either him or me. His real name was Ronald Dixen and this afternoon he had booked into the same hotel as me. I think he was going to break my neck and make it look like I slipped and fell on the rocks, or maybe fell off the balcony from above.”

“What about the Hoodie character? Was he the lookout?”

“No. Turns out he was a local tough guy who has a history of mugging tourists. The Thai police are confident he had nothing to do with Dixen trying to kill me.”

“How do you stand with the Thai police?” asked Rose.

“I don’t expect any problems at all. I just got to the police station, but my liaison person, a fellow by the name of Pom, has already cleared the way. I think he has some clout. The local police are being really nice. Pom said that they will say it was an accident.”

“Doesn’t sound like an accident to me.”

“Well … it was, sort of.”

“You were trying to knock him out?”

Jack paused. “To be honest, at the time I was so scared, I just lashed out in a desperate attempt to live. It was only after his body collapsed, that I hoped I hadn’t killed him.”

“So now what?”

“I’ll call Connie and fill her in so she can apply for the wiretap. I’m hoping to have it in place when Oskar and Pike return from China. Might make for some interesting conversation when they hear that Dixen is dead.”

“And Stew?” questioned Rose. “You better hope he returns from China.”

“He is well protected there. Even Oskar mentioned that their rooms could be bugged, so I am positive that nothing will happen. My guess is they planned to murder me here and perhaps do Stew in either southern Thailand or Malaysia.”

“We can’t put him at risk. It’s bad enough hanging you out as bait.”

“Once he returns from China, I’ll figure out a way to extract him. He’s a good guy, I think we can count on him to keep his mouth shut, but I’m afraid he will get so nervous that Oskar might clue in.”

“When Oskar finds out that Dixen is dead, you would think he would be in contact with his boss,” said Rose.

“Exactly. I’m hoping that if the wiretap is in place, we will hear them talking, identify who that is, and wrap things up quickly. Maybe they’ll even plan another attack. Perhaps we’ll get Pike, as well.”

“I would prefer you getting him with a wiretap, rather than a piece of concrete.”

“Given the option, so would I.”

“You’re also hoping the two hitmen are Pike and Dixen. Did it occur to you there could be others?”

“Trying to make me more paranoid?” asked Jack.

“No. Trying to keep you alive.”

It was two o’clock on Saturday morning when Jack finished giving a statement to the Thai police and was allowed to return to the hotel. During the next few hours, he received numerous phone calls from Connie Crane as she prepared the wiretap application.

A further delay resulted when Connie brought her application to the Crown prosecutor, who spotted a missing period.

“You may not think this is important,” said the prosecutor, who first majored in English at university, “but let me tell you —”

Connie put her hand up for the prosecutor to stop. “No need to go there. I know all about that. I missed a period a couple of months ago and it scared the hell out of me.”

It was late Friday night in Vancouver when the Crown prosecutor agreed that all was in order, but a judge was no longer available. Eventually an appointment was made for Connie to take the order to a judge at his residence on Saturday.

On Saturday evening in Thailand, Jack received a text from Oskar, asking for an update on the jade factory. Jack had already given him an update, but smiled to himself, knowing that Oskar was really wanting to know if he was still alive.

Jack re-sent the report, but commented that the previous report must have been lost in cyberspace.

At five o’clock Sunday morning in Thailand, Jack met with Jim in his room and waited for Connie to call. An hour later she did and said the order had been approved, naming both Oskar and Pike.

“You’re on, big guy,” said Jack, handing his phone to Jim, who made notes of conversation he had with Connie.

Four hours later, Jim finished his work in two rooms at the Imperial Golden Triangle Hotel. Both rooms had been reserved for Oskar and Pike and were side by side on the fifth floor.

The actual monitoring and recording of conversation would take place in Jim’s room on the fourth level. Jack listened to the receiver as Jim finished what he was doing and came back to his own room.

“So?” asked Jim. “You hear me okay up there?”

“You’re the best,” said Jack. “I don’t think a mouse could sneak across the carpet up there without us hearing it.”

Stew’s room was on the third floor, because Jack did not want him to accidentally interfere with any conversation that Oskar and Pike might wish to have. He also did not want Stew in a room that was high off the ground.

Pom told Jack that several calls had come in on Dixen’s cellphone, but on Jack’s advice, they had gone unanswered.

“I want it to be a surprise for them when they return,” said Jack. We need the two of them to be in their rooms when they find out.”

Jack also received another text from Oskar on Sunday morning asking him to confirm their reservations and to let him know that everything was in order. That’s right, asshole, I’m still alive …

That evening, Jack watched as Oskar, Pike, and Stew arrived at the hotel and went to their rooms to drop off their luggage. Jack waited until Oskar and Pike were unlocking the doors to their rooms when he approached them.

“Hi, guys, I saw you arrive from my balcony,” said Jack. “Did it all go well?”

“Yes.” Oskar frowned as he looked at Jack. “And you? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Jack, “although I witnessed a tragic incident on Friday night.”

“Oh?” asked Pike.

“It was awful, really,” said Jack. “I’m still shaking. I’ve never seen a dead guy before.”

“A dead guy?” asked Oskar, looking at Pike who shrugged in response.

“Right across from our hotel,” said Jack. “This poor guy asked me to take a picture of him overlooking the river. When I did, he dropped his glasses and we climbed down to look for them. My God … I still can’t believe I was there,” stuttered Jack.

“What happened?” asked Pike.

“The guy was kind of agile. He happened to be coming toward me, jumping from one rock to another, but one rock was muddy or something and he fell. He was barely an arm’s reach away, but it all happened so fast that I couldn’t save him. His feet went out from under him and he hit his head on a piece of concrete or something.”

“And he died?” asked Pike, looking surprised.

“Yes. I called for help and tried to do CPR, but it wasn’t any good. His eyes were all glazed over and blood was coming out of his ear.” Jack covered his eyes with one hand to show his grief and mumbled, “It was awful. I was actually sick to my stomach after.”

“Do you ever find out what his name was?” demanded Pike, grabbing Jack by the arm.

“Yes, the police told me he was an American. His name was Ronald Dixen. I can’t believe I saw it. What a terrible thing to happen on a holiday.”

“Oh, Christ,” muttered Pike as he looked at Oskar. “It was Rabbit.”

“You know him?” asked Jack, feigning surprise.

“Dixen works for our company in corporate security,” replied Oskar.

“Him and I are friends,” said Pike. “We’ve been together for years.”

“I didn’t know,” stammered Jack. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know our company had someone else here.”

“Guess I forgot to mention it,” said Oskar. “I wasn’t sure when he was arriving. I planned to use both him and Ben to cover you and Stew when we go down south. We thought we would take a couple of days off here to relax first.”

“I feel horrible,” said Jack. “I don’t know what to say. That poor guy. It was such a fluke thing. I hope he wasn’t married?”

Oskar shook his head and said, “No, but I do need some time to think about everything. I should probably call the American Embassy in Bangkok right away. You, uh, go and I’ll catch up to you later.”

A minute later, Jack tapped on Jim’s door and was let inside, where the team was listening.

“They believe your story,” whispered Willy. “Pike dropped off his luggage and went straight back to Oskar’s room. Before he got there, we heard Oskar mutter that he should have had insurance on Rabbit. Come and listen.”

Jack listened as Jim turned up the volume slightly.

“I can’t believe it,” said Pike sorrowfully. “After everything Rabbit and I have been through. To slip and die over a fucking wimp like that. The idiot doesn’t even realize how lucky he is.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about your friend,” replied Oskar. “I know you two were close.”

“In the line of work I’ve been in, I’ve lost a lot of friends over the years,” replied Pike. “Getting shot or blown up is one thing, but to lose someone over something as stupid as this really pisses me off. Rabbit and I were warriors and that’s no way for a warrior to die. Just doesn’t seem honourable.”

“Makes you appreciate life,” replied Oskar. “You never know when something unexpected could happen.”

“I’m so pissed off, I feel like going to that fucker’s room and ripping his head off,” said Pike, as his sorrow became replaced with rage.

“You’ll get your chance, but not around here,” said Oskar. “One body connected to us in this dinky little town is enough.”

“You going to call the big guy?” asked Pike. “He’ll be pissed off.”

Jack tensed, waiting for the reply. One phone call by Oskar might wrap up the case.

“Maybe not. Shit happens. He knows that. Besides, if need be, he has a couple of other guys capable of helping out.”

“I won’t need any help with either of those two goofs.”

“We’ll have to wait and see what he wants. I’ll send an email from the hotel lobby and let him know about the accident and tell him that the corporate asset we had intended to unload is still with us. I imagine he’ll want to wait and talk face-to-face in Langkawi and figure things out.”

“Think this will change things?”

“I doubt it. At least, not much. We’ll fly to Langkawi as planned. The only difference I see, is instead of only sending Stew to Hat Yai, we’ll probably send the both of them.”

“Do ’em both in Hat Yai?”

“Knowing the reputation of Hat Yai, I doubt it would even make the news there.”

The conversation came to an end when Oskar told Pike he would meet him in the hotel restaurant in an hour to eat.

“Email?” asked Jack, looking at Jim.

“If he’s being careful enough not to use his own computer, I suspect he’ll use a chat room.”

“No direct contact,” nodded Jack.

“I’ll see what I can come up with,” replied Jim. “It may take a few days to try and track things down, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up.”

“If Oskar is meeting with his boss in Langkawi, things could work out perfect,” said Willy.

“Providing we get them talking near a bug,” said Tina. “Hopefully before you go to Hat Yai,” she added.

Pom put his hand on Jack’s shoulder and looked concerned as he shook his head. “Hat Yai is very dangerous.”

“More so than here?” asked Jack.

Pom nodded and made a slashing motion across his throat with his index finger.

“I see,” said Jack. “Which means we can’t let Stew Pot go there. We’ll have to extract him before that happens.”

“Hope it doesn’t burn things,” said Randy, “not that we have any choice.”

“I’m going to slip back to my room for a moment, then get Stew and go for dinner in the restaurant with Oskar and Pike so they aren’t alone to talk there.”

Jack stopped briefly in his room and checked out the Canadian Foreign Affairs and International Trade report for Hat Yai:

Avoid all Travel …(Hat Yai) experiencing criminally and politically motivated violent incidents. Attacks against military and civilian targets occur almost daily, and include shootings, bombings, beheadings, and arson.

Violence in the Muslim-majority southernmost provinces is highly unpredictable, and Canadians travelling in the region risk becoming casualties of an indiscriminate attack. Deadly attacks occur frequently and are regularly directed at government and security buildings and personnel, but have also occurred in a variety of public places, including shopping districts, entertainment venues, public transit, and hotels that may be frequented by tourists. Since January 2004, over 4,700 people have been killed and many more injured, including foreigners.

Jack wondered how his own murder would be planned once Stew was extracted. Up until now, the murders had been staged as accidents. In Hat Yai, that would not be necessary. Murder was so common there that a bullet to the back of the head wouldn’t draw much reaction. He glanced at the report again. Beheadings?

He thought of Pom slowly drawing his finger across his neck and subconsciously put his hand to his throat.

Yeah, Pom, well put …

Chapter Thirty-Two

Originally Oskar had planned that everyone would go to Langkawi on Tuesday, but Dixen’s death prevented that. The local police decided to hold Oskar’s passport until they straightened out who Dixen was working for and rectify a problem with a working permit that apparently was not in order.

On Monday, Oskar told Jack that they would be staying at The Westin Langkawi Resort and Spa and told him to make reservations for Thursday. Jack was pleased with the delay because it gave the cover team more time to prepare and make arrangements with foreign authorities.

The downside was that the time seemed to drag as he spent three days making small talk with Stew as they sat around the pool while Oskar and Pike preferred to go across the river to the casino in Laos.

As Langkawi was in Malaysia, but close to the Thai border, Pom would be the only Thai policeman to go along, in the event they needed to coordinate things if Jack did have to go back across the border to Hat Yai in Thailand.

The RCMP Liaison Officer in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, was contacted and arranged for a four-man security team of Malaysian policemen to take over security in Langkawi for when Jack and Stew arrived.

On Tuesday, Jim and Pom both left the Golden Triangle and went to Langkawi to ensure that the rooms reserved by Oskar and Pike would both be under proper electronic surveillance.

On Thursday, Oskar, Pike, Jack, and Stew flew to Bangkok and caught a connecting flight to Kuala Lumpur. There they caught another connecting flight to Langkawi. Their flight in Kuala Lumpur was delayed and it was after midnight when they arrived at the front desk of The Westin Langkawi Resort and Spa.

As they received their room keys, Oskar told Jack and Stew that he would give them Friday and Saturday off to recoup from their travel.

It had been arranged through the Malaysian police that Oskar and Pike would have adjoining rooms on the top floor, while Jim had a room directly below them. Jack was also booked beside Jim, while Stew was booked into a room three floors down from the top and flanked on both sides by the Malaysian security team.

Jack was relieved when everyone received the keys to their rooms without incident. He recalled another case years ago in Calgary when he was getting a room with a bad guy and a hotel employee let it slip that the police had especially reserved their rooms.

Once everyone had checked into their rooms, Jack went next door to Jim’s room and was introduced to the men from the Malaysian team.

This team was headed by a short, heavy-set man by the name of Ahmad. He had a thick black moustache and a closely trimmed black beard. Ahmad and his team were Muslim and did not drink alcohol. Jack wondered if they would stand out in a hotel filled with holiday revellers, but later discovered that there was a heavy Muslim presence in Langkawi and Ahmad and his team fit in fine.

Physical and electronic surveillance of Oskar and Pike did not show them meeting with anyone on Friday. Oskar spent most of the day sleeping in his room and Pike spent much of his time working out at a gym in the hotel.

On Saturday afternoon, Jack and Stew were relaxing at the pool when Oskar and Pike joined them. Oskar and Pike were both wearing bathing suits, but Oskar had also brought a large manila envelope with him.

“How’s it going, boys?” asked Oskar, after sticking his toe in the pool.

“Working for you is like being on a holiday,” replied Stew. “This is great!”

Oskar smiled and looked at Jack. “You’re sweating like a pig on a spit. Have you tried the pool?”

“I don’t swim,” replied Jack, who was conscious of his role as a person who was basically inactive in any physical sports.

“I got him to splash around in the shallow end,” said Stew.

Jack caught the look of utter contempt on Pike’s face and took the opportunity to impress upon him that he was an easy target. “Be careful you don’t burn your feet on the concrete getting to the pool. I did and screamed like a little girl. I couldn’t help myself.” Jack gave a goofy grin and added, “But it is pretty here,” he said, reaching for the asthma inhaler he had on a towel beside him.

Pike rolled his eyes in response.

When Jack put the inhaler down, Oskar handed him the envelope. “I guess I can count on you to keep this dry. Tomorrow I want the two of you to check out this property. It’s on the other side of the island from us, but the two of you can take a taxi.”

“Property that the development company is planning to build a resort on?” asked Stew.

Oskar nodded. “See if there are any obvious environmental issues. Then on Monday, I want you both to go to Hat Yai to check out the company making biopolymers. From here you can take a ferry back into Thailand and then grab a taxi to take you into Hat Yai. With luck, you should be back for supper.”

Jack inwardly cringed. He knew they were coming down to the crunch. They either had to get Oskar talking murder with his boss, or extract Stew to prevent him from going to Hat Yai.

“Hat Yai has a reputation for being a little rough,” continued Oskar, “so Ben will go with you to make sure you stay out of trouble.” Oskar turned to Pike and gave him a friendly punch on the arm and said, “Isn’t that right, Ben?”

“You can count on me,” Pike replied, smiling back at Oskar.

“When do you think we will be heading back to Canada?” asked Jack.

“Hat Yai is the end of the trail,” said Oskar.

“So early next week, then?” asked Jack, catching the smirk on Pike’s face.

“Wait until you’re done in Hat Yai,” replied Oskar. “But I’m thinking you both could be on a plane back to Canada by Tuesday or Wednesday.”

Have you already booked us tickets in the cargo hold?

Jack made an excuse to go back to his room, but instead went into Jim’s room and had a meeting that also included Randy, Willy, Tina, and Pom.

“There is no way we can risk letting Stew go to Hat Yai,” said Jack, as soon as he told them about Oskar’s plan for Monday.

“Don’t think we should be risking you, either,” said Randy. “If Pike gets a gun or a knife and decides to do you, we may not have time to save your ass.”

“I’ve thought the same thing, but I still think we should push it as far as possible,” said Jack. “Once we get Stew out of the way, there will be more available to cover me. Pom can take the ferry ride with us and maybe even have one of his men drive the taxi on the other side.”

Pom nodded in agreement.

“If Pike picks up a weapon before then, I think we should take him down and see if we can turn him,” said Randy.

“A lawyer would tell him to say he was getting it for protection,” sighed Jack. “Still, I agree that we don’t have a lot of choice. Even with what they said in the room back at the Golden Triangle, it likely wouldn’t be enough.”

“Not enough in Canada, but maybe enough in Thailand,” offered Pom.

“Good point,” agreed Jack. “As tough a nut as Pike is, if he ever sees the inside of a Thai jail, I am sure it will rattle him.”

“No colour television I bet,” Tina said, smiling.

“Television in jail in Canada?” exclaimed Pom. He looked at everyone’s faces and burst out laughing. “You make joke.”

“Yes, it’s a joke all right,” replied Jack.

“Haven’t had Oskar meeting anyone yet,” noted Willy. “It also doesn’t look like he and Pike are coming with you tomorrow, so maybe that is when the boss-man is coming.”

“It sounds like he’ll be meeting him soon,” noted Tina, “if he is talking about you leaving by next Tuesday or Wednesday.”

“The trouble is, unless it is tomorrow, we can’t risk letting Stew go to Hat Yai on Monday,” said Jack. “My thought is to take Stew and check out the property here in Langkawi tomorrow morning. Regardless if Oskar’s boss shows up, barring any arrests, we’ll have to extract Stew and get him on a plane and the hell out of here.”

“Have you thought how to do it?” asked Tina. “If he’s the nervous type and doesn’t play his role right, Oskar will be suspicious.”

“I’ll tell him to act like a man,” said Jack, with a grin, “and blame it all on his wife.”

“You guys!” replied Tina. “Typical!”

Jack felt his phone vibrate and saw that it was Laura calling. He knew it had to be urgent.

“We’re clear to talk,” said Jack, as soon as he answered. “How’s life in sunny Vancouver?”

“Sunny? It’s Friday, midnight here and it’s raining. How is it on your end?”

“Hot.”

“It might get hotter. I think we’ve got a problem,” said Laura. “Virgil drove all over the place tonight. Residential areas and the whole bit.”

“Checking for heat?”

“I’m sure of it. After driving for a couple of hours, he zeroed in on two playgrounds. It’s not like anyone would be at them this time of night, so I think he was casing them for a return visit.”

“Hope you have fresh batteries in the tracker.”

“I put them in last night. They’re fresh.”

“The two parks, are they in an area with nice homes, or are they areas with low-cost housing and apartments?”

“One is, one isn’t,” replied Laura.

“Bet he goes for the one with apartments. Stick to the plan and get everyone on standby. Sunday night is one of his favourite times to strike. If he makes his move, take the bastard down.”

“How are things going with you?”

“Monday looks like a big day.”

“Monday might be too late if we take him down tomorrow,” replied Laura.

“Sunday night there is Monday morning here,” said Jack.

“I know, but that’s cutting it pretty thin. Let’s hope he behaves himself until you’re done.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” said Jack, tersely. “He’s one sick bastard. We have to catch him first chance we get. Don’t kink him up. If you do, he’ll be a lot more cautious next time and we may miss him. Rely on the tracker and get the team into position if he goes to a park.”

“Wish you were here.”

“You’ll do okay, but promise me you won’t take your eyes off the laptop.”

“Are you kidding? I haven’t slept more than twenty minutes in a row since this began. I keep having nightmares that I won’t hear the alarm to tell me he’s moving.”

“Good. I knew I could count on you. Now I have to go back to the pool and work on my tan. See ya.”

“You jerk!”

On Sunday morning, Jack and Stew checked out the property on the other side of the island where a future resort was planned.

“This seems all to easy,” said Stew, as they walked through a grove of palm trees back to where their taxi was waiting for them. “Can’t believe Oskar would hire us for something so simple.”

Jack nodded in agreement and glanced at Ahmad and some of his men who were close by. Oskar didn’t hire us for this. He hired us to kill us …

“Hey,” said Stew, pointing to a food vendor on the sidewalk. “I wonder if they have any black-pepper chicken. That stuff is delicious. Want to pick up an order and bring it back to the hotel? Bet it’s really cheap here.”

“It’s only eleven o’clock in the morning,” said Jack.

“So?” smiled Stew, rubbing his pot belly. “Since when do you let time interfere with good food?”

“You go ahead, I’m not hungry,” said Jack. “I also want to make a call.”

As Stew went over to the vendor, Jack quickly called Jim.

“Anything?” asked Jack.

“No,” replied Jim. “Oskar stayed in his room until ten. Pike was up at seven and went straight to the gym. A couple of minutes ago they joined each other down at the pool, where Oskar is relaxing and sipping a coffee.”

“Any chance of bugging the sugar bowl?” joked Jack.

“There isn’t one, but I’m wondering about getting Tina to go down there and leave her beach bag near them. What do you think?”

“Good idea, but let’s save it for when someone else shows up,” replied Jack. “Oskar is sharp enough that we would only get away with it once.”

“Makes sense. There is also night lighting in a flower bed near where they are sitting. People generally tend to sit in the same spots all the time. Maybe tonight I should look at hooking into the power line and running a bug as close as I can get. Maybe disguise it as another night light. Just not sure if it would be enough, considering the distance.”

“If anyone could do it, you could. I’ll let you decide on that one.”

“I’ll do some checking tonight and get back to you on that.”

“I’ll be back with Stew within an hour. Time to bring him in and have a chat. We’ll use Willy’s room.”

Jack eyed Stew as he approached carrying a Styrofoam food container of chicken. He had a feeling that Stew was about to lose his appetite.

Chapter Thirty-Three

“Oh my God!” said Stew after a prolonged period of sitting in stunned silence on the edge of the bed in Willy’s room. He had been introduced to the team and after police identification had been shown, Jack had told him the real reason they had been hired.

“Sorry, we didn’t tell you earlier,” said Jack. “We were afraid it would rouse suspicion and ruin our chances of ever finding out who Oskar answers to.”

“Oh my God,” repeated Stew. “Oh my God!”

“I want you to meet Oskar in his room and tell him that you talked with your wife. Tell him she is having a nervous breakdown and that you need to go home immediately and look after your children. Say you’re sorry, but you need to quit and get a job without travel.”

“Oh my God,” Stew replied, shaking his head as his brain tried to comprehend what he had been told.

“I’ll go to the pool and tell Oskar and Pike that you are extremely upset by something going on at home. I’ll tell them that the maid is in your room and that you wish to meet Oskar in his room to talk to him. As soon as you tell Oskar what I told you to say, tell him you are expecting another call from your wife and want your privacy. Then go straight back to your room. After that, I want you to catch the next flight back to Canada.”

“We already checked the airport,” said Tina. “The next available flight leaves at 7:55 p.m. tomorrow night. There are a few connections, but you basically should land in Victoria about thirty-three hours later.”

Stew stared at Tina with his mouth gaping open, but didn’t answer.

“Stew, you are safe,” said Jack. “You will receive protection until such time as you are officially terminated —”

“Oh my God!”

“I meant from your employment. Until such time as the life-insurance policy on you is no longer in effect.”

Oskar listened to what Jack had to say and asked, “Any idea at all what it is about?”

Jack shrugged and said, “He was fine when we checked out the property this morning. It wasn’t until he got back to his room that something upset him. It has something to do with his wife. He’s almost in tears, which is why he didn’t want to come out here. I suspect he’s waiting outside your room right now.”

Oskar and Pike exchanged a puzzled look and Pike said, “Maybe I should go with you?”

Oskar looked at Jack. “Did you get the feeling it was something personal?”

“I don’t think it would hurt for both of you to go,” replied Jack. “For whatever is bothering him, maybe two heads will be better than one, but I don’t think he wants me there.”

Oskar, Pike, and Stew were just entering Oskar’s room when Jack entered Jim’s room to join the investigative team and listen.

Stew blurted out the story he had been given and said he was quitting. He stuttered as he spoke and recited his lines like a bad actor with stage fright.

“It’s only one or two more days,” pleaded Oskar. “If your flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow night, you could be finished by that time.”

“Finished!” stammered Stew. “I … I’m not working for you! Weren’t you listening? I’m out of here!”

“But just one more day,” said Pike. “If we leave first thing in the morning, I could get you to Hat Yai and back before your flight.”

“Maybe I can get out earlier on standby,” replied Stew, with genuine optimism. He looked at Oskar. “My wife is calling back. I have to go.”

“Stew, come on … Stew —”

Oskar quit talking when Stew hurried from the room and slammed the door behind him.

“That fucking little weasel,” said Pike. “Running home to mommy. She’s probably having her period or something.”

“I don’t like it,” said Oskar. “He was really scared about something.”

“Scared we were going to beat his ass for being such a chicken-shit,” growled Pike.

“Maybe,” replied Oskar.

“So now what?”

Oskar let out a deep breath. “We’ve still got Jack.”

“The big guy wanted two. Aren’t you meeting him on Tuesday?”

“Yes.”

Jack sighed. It was good news they knew when Oskar would be meeting his boss. It could be bad news if Virgil was arrested before then and clued Oskar in as to who Jack really was. He knew he would also have to figure out how to delay going to Hat Yai before then.

“First Rabbit and now this,” continued Pike. “He’ll be really pissed.”

“I know. I’ll make some calls and meet you back at the pool for lunch.”

Pike returned to the pool and the investigative team waited in anticipation of Oskar making some phone calls, which he didn’t end up doing. Instead, Oskar went to the lobby and used the Internet before joining Pike for lunch.

“On Tuesday, we’ll need to identify every guy Oskar meets,” said Jack. “If he even stops to give some tourist the time, I want to know who that tourist is.”

“It might be too late then, if you are suppose to be in Hat Yai on Monday,” said Tina.

“I’ll figure out a way to stall,” replied Jack. “Maybe arrange to have a small car accident on the way to the ferry. We could get the police to detain us for questioning.”

Stew remained holed up in his room, so later that afternoon, Oskar went and knocked on his door. Stew refused to open the door and said he wasn’t feeling well.

Oskar cursed to himself as he returned to the pool.

The rest of the day slowly passed and Jack hung out with Oskar and Pike at the pool. Oskar made another invitation through the door for Stew to join them for dinner and was rebuffed. Back at the pool, Oskar told Jack that his trip to Hat Yai would be postponed until Tuesday, in the event he could talk some sense into Stew before he left.

Jack was pleased. With luck, he hoped he would not arrive in Hat Yai before Oskar talked to his boss. Arrests could be made and Jack would no longer be left dangling like raw meat in a pool of sharks. Providing Virgil doesn’t screw things up …

It was five o’clock Monday morning when Jack was awakened by a panicked call from Stew.

“I’ve been poisoned. Help me,” he gasped.

Chapter Thirty-Four

It was July 1, Sunday morning in Vancouver when Virgil checked himself out in the bathroom mirror. He had finished shaving … and not only his face. Except for his eyebrows, there was no other hair on his body. Gee, you didn’t find any DNA, officers? Such a shame …

He carefully examined his scrotum one more time and then grinned at his reflection before padding barefoot out to the kitchen to look out the window.

The clouds had disappeared and it was going to be a warm summer day. Perfect for Canada Day. A day for families. What woman would take her child to a park by herself … unless there was no man in her life …

Virgil came out of his house and went for a brief walk around the neighbourhood. He did not see anyone who could have been suspected of conducting surveillance, nor did he expect to.

On Friday evening, Virgil had driven around in remote urban areas. He was certain he would have spotted anyone if they tried to follow him, but repeated the scenario again last night with the same effect.

Taggart lied to me when he said I was being watched. How stupid does he take me to be? How stupid is Taggart? Perhaps Oskar will succeed in killing him …

Virgil returned to his carport and flicked on a portable radio on his workbench before sawing off a short piece of broom handle. He smiled as he drilled two holes in the short stick of wood before attaching a piece of cord. When he was finished, he glanced around to ensure that nobody was watching, before seeing if the rope would fit over his own head.

It did easily. Too easily. He adjusted a knot in the end of the cord until it was the right length. A simple roll of the wood and a twist of his wrist would tighten the rope around a person’s neck. With one hand he could operate the device and allow a person to breathe … or not to breathe.

Virgil felt the blood surge to his groin as he fantasized. He imagined a naked woman under him, squirming her flesh against his as she struggled for breath. He visualized relaxing the strangle hold to keep her alive and slow his ejaculation, then repeating the process over and over. When he was ready for the final climax, he envisioned her arching her back in death … her body writhing … struggling for another breath of air. A breath that he would not allow her to have.

He would still bring a knife to help ensure her co-operation until he had her under control, but this time his fantasy did not include using it.

Ah, my lovely. This will be much more pleasurable than rattling a knife across your headboard. Yes, it is unfortunate that you must die, but changing my routine … well, like I said, you have Taggart to thank

for that.

When Virgil was finished, he reached to shut off the radio, but paused as the news talked about another drone attack killing terrorists in Pakistan. Yes, eyes in the sky, he mused, before flicking off the radio.

As he turned to walk away, a new thought flashed into his brain. He stepped outside his carport and looking up at the sky, before glancing back at his car. Are you as stupid as I thought, Taggart?

Virgil popped the hood on his car and looked inside. He did not see anything out of place. He closed the hood and slowly walked around the car. On the bumper under the trunk he saw something. It looked like two sets of finger marks in the dust. Marks that looked like someone had gripped the bumper to pull themselves out from under the car.

Seconds later, Virgil smiled from where he lay on his back under his car. The magnetic car tracker was stuck to the side of his gas tank. He carefully pulled it off and put it on his workbench.

Oh, Mr. Taggart … how thoughtful of you to provide me with an alibi!

Moments later, Virgil backed out of his driveway. He was still cautious and drove in an out of neighbourhoods, often doubling back to ensure that there really was no physical surveillance on him. When he was finished, he drove to a small playground and parked.

As he waited, he pretended to be using his cellphone. Anyone passing by who should happen to see him, would not suspect his real intentions.

Minutes after he arrived, a woman with three small children arrived to use the park. Virgil guessed that she was about thirty and had her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was a heavy-set woman and her horizontally stripped T-shirt hung over her blue jeans. It did nothing to make her look attractive, but Virgil was willing to forego beauty over his lust to dominate.

Virgil watched as the woman sat on a bench and lit a cigarette. Are you the one? Sorry if I don’t let you enjoy a cigarette when I am done with you tonight …

Virgil’s attention was distracted by an image that appeared in his rear-view mirror. It was that of a young woman in her twenties, walking up the street with two toddlers who clung to her fingers.

The woman was beautiful, with long blond hair and a good figure. She was wearing cut-off blue jeans and a white, short-sleeved blouse. Virgil decided that her long, bare legs looked particularly inviting. He unrolled the car window to see if he could pick up any of their conversation as they passed.

Ah, you really are lovely. Virgil briefly closed his eyes and tilted his head back as he fantasized again. There will be no need to hide my face under a sweaty mask. I do look so forward to putting my bare face on your body.

“Mommy! Can I play on the slide? Can I?” one toddler asked.

“Go for it! Have fun!” she said with a smile and let go of their hands.

Yes, have fun. Tonight your mom and me will have fun, too …

Virgil watched as the young mom went and sat on the bench with the other woman.

Talk about beauty and the beast …

Half an hour slipped past before the young mom took her children by the hand and walked back down the sidewalk. Virgil stayed in his car until they were far enough away that nobody would notice he was following her.

Ten minutes later, he watched as they entered an alley and then cut across a small patio on a ground-floor apartment complex. The patio was strewn with children’s toys and she paused to watch as one toddler pushed the other on a small plastic car.

A moment later, she unlocked the sliding patio door and disappeared inside, while the toddlers took turns, using their feet to propel themelves in circles around the patio. Seconds later, the woman slid open a kitchen window and fussed with the screen for a moment, before disappearing from view.

Virgil continued to walk down the alley, but heard her shout out, “Tomorrow I’m going to take you on the bus to visit Grandpa and Grandma. What do you think about that?”

“Yippie! Candy!” they each replied.

“It means you’ll have to go to bed early tonight. No putting up a fuss.”

“We won’t,” one replied.

“I’ll be good,” replied the other.

Virgil glanced back. Your mommy won’t be riding any bus tomorrow. Neither will either of you, if you see my face tonight … so you better be real good … just like your mommy will be …

Chapter Thirty-Five

Back in the hotel in Langkawi, Jack listened as Stew sat on the toilet, wearing only his underwear while holding a waste-paper container in front of him.

“How long have you been sick?” asked Jack.

“For the last two hours. Going at both ends at the same —”

Jack grimaced as the sound of vomiting interrupted and asked, “When did you last eat?”

“About midnight. I couldn’t sleep, so I had some of the chicken.”

“That you bought at eleven o’clock yesterday morning?” asked Jack, glancing at the takeout food container on the coffee table. “Tell me you had it in the fridge.”

“No. I was upset yesterday after coming back from what you guys told me, I simply tossed it on the table and forgot about it. The air-conditioning was on all day, though, so I thought that would be enough to keep it —”

Jack waited until the next round of heaves quit before saying, “Well, at least we know they didn’t poison you. Get dressed and I’ll take you to the hospital.”

By seven o’clock in the morning, Stew was in a hospital bed with an intravenous tube in his arm to treat him for dehydration. The investigative team met with Jack in the reception area of the hospital.

“If he dies, they’ll collect the insurance legitimately,” said Randy.

“I’m sure he will be okay,” replied Jack. “Might miss his flight tonight, though.”

“Which means we better stay and cover him off,” noted Willy.

“Definitely,” replied Jack. “Oskar mentioned that there were a couple of other guys available to replace Rabbit, so we’re going to have to be vigilant.” He glanced at Randy and said, “Guess we’ll need to divide the team again. Watching Oskar will be a priority, plus a team on Pike in case they split up. Of course, Stew, as well.”

“You forgot to mention yourself,” noted Randy.

“I think I’m safe until they send me to Hat Yai. This is a small enough island that we can quickly call on each other for help if the situation calls for it.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” said Tina, rolling her eyes.

Jack saw Randy giving him a hard look and said, “I expect I’ll only be hanging out at the pool. If anything seems the least bit fishy, I’ll call you. We’re spread too thin as it is, so there’s no use in wasting manpower watching me tan.”

Randy sighed, then nodded in agreement. “Ahmad, could two of your men stay in the hospital with Willy to supply cover for Stew? Perhaps even have your people in the bed next to him?”

“I will arrange it so,” replied Ahmad.

“Thank you. I would then like you, Jim, and Tina to watch Oskar. That still leaves one of your men, Ahmad, to watch Pike, along with myself and Pom. Hopefully, Oskar and Pike will also stay around the hotel. Except for the hospital detail, the rest of us will be there, too, which means we’ll be able to help each other with surveillance.”

“Sure,” quipped Willy. “You’ll spend your day watching Jack guzzle martinis at the pool. I think I prefer my shift of keeping an eye on the nurses.” He grinned.

“Sounds like an excellent plan to me,” Jack said, chuckling. “We just need to keep everything together until tomorrow when Oskar meets his boss, then we might all be celebrating at the pool.”

“Providing Oskar meets his boss in a place we have wired,” said Tina.

Jack glanced at Jim and said, “I’m counting on you for that.”

Jim nodded nonchalantly. Jack had seen him in stressful situations before and admired how he could appear to look so calm and stress-free. The success or failure of the entire investigation might hinge on his ability, yet you wouldn’t know it by looking at his face. Note to self, never play poker with this guy … besides, he’d probably have a hidden camera directed at my cards …

Two hours later, Jack knocked on Oskar’s door and told him that Stew was in the hospital with food poisoning.

“Food poisoning!” replied Oskar, as his face lit up like he won a lottery ticket.

“He’ll pull through and should still make his flight tonight,” added Jack. “I think he’s mostly suffering from dehydration.”

“I see,” said Oskar, frowning. “Perhaps I’ll go visit him and see how he’s doing.”

“He’s in a ward with other people. I think he wants to sleep.”

“Are you going back to bed?” asked Oskar.

“No, I’m not sure what I’ll do. Maybe grab breakfast or hang out at the pool,” he replied, trying to keep his options open. If Oskar and Pike got together to talk in private, he wanted it to be in their rooms and not the restaurant.

An hour later, Jack found a lounge chair at the pool and lay down. Pike was working out in the gym, so when he saw Oskar heading for the restaurant, he decided to stay where he was.

As Jack lay there, he watched a couple with two small boys arrive at the pool. It made him think about Natasha, Mikey, and Stevey. He missed them and wished he was home to give them all a hug and tell them he loved them. Maybe I should write them a letter and give it to Randy to hold before going to Hat Yai …

“Hey, Jack! How the hell you doing?”

Jack looked up and saw John Barfoot smiling down at him.

“John! What are you doing here?”

“I said I would join the company if they hired you. Didn’t think I would let you down, did you?”

Jack stood up and Barfoot gave him a warm embrace.

“Where you staying?” asked Jack.

“A little ways down the road at the Royal Langkawi Yacht Club,” Barfoot said, gesturing with his thumb.

Damn it, your timing couldn’t be worse.

“Is everything okay?” asked Barfoot.

“I’m just surprised,” said Jack, giving a smile. “A nice surprise, though.”

“I told you I had a home in Malaysia. Hope you hadn’t planned on coming all this way without looking me up.”

“Well, uh, I’ve been busy. I’m working on Oskar’s schedule, so —”

Barfoot chuckled and said, “I’m teasing you. Where is he?”

“In the restaurant. I’ll take you there.”

“Thanks, but I’ll find him. I need to talk to him about a few details before signing on any dotted lines.”

“So you’re not officially with the company yet?” asked Jack.

“Not yet. He contacted me last night and sweetened the pot a little. Once a few details are worked out, I’ll be on board. Maybe I’ll tell him I’ll think about it for a couple of days. Make him sweat a bit,” added Barfoot with a grin.

“A couple of days sounds great,” replied Jack.

“I’m looking forward to working with you. Any good golf courses around or a place that makes burgers as good as the Country Rose?”

Jack smiled and said, “I haven’t had time for golf, and after you’ve had the Rose burger, any other would be a disappointment.”

Barfoot grinned and told Jack he would be back as soon as he talked with Oskar.

As soon as Barfoot left, Jack caught Jim’s eye and met him in the poolside washroom and started to tell him what happened.

“I heard,” said Jim, touching his earpiece. “People really are creatures of habit. Didn’t you notice the new night light in the flower bed?”

“No,” replied Jack.

“Good. You weren’t supposed to. If Oskar and Pike come out, make sure they sit there.”

“I’ll always leave a towel or something there and try to reserve it for them,” replied Jack. “But now we have another problem.”

“Yeah. Stew is leaving, so the bastard has another fish on the line,” growled Jim. “Randy won’t be happy with that. One more person to protect.”

“Barfoot hasn’t signed any papers yet. Until that happens, I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

“And if we see him signing any papers?”

“Get Tina to walk by and spill a drink on them.”

“Think that would work?”

“Probably not,” admitted Jack. “We only have to stall one more day. Hopefully nothing else goes wrong.” He glanced at his watch. In Vancouver it was Sunday night and almost midnight. No call from Laura. Virgil must be behaving himself …

Chapter Thirty-Six

At ten o’clock at night, Virgil sat parked in the alley where he could see the rear of the blonde’s apartment. Somewhere in the distance he heard the sound of a couple of firecrackers as someone celebrated Canada Day.

Her silhouette appeared behind the screen on her patio door as she looked out. It was evident that she had heard the firecrackers, as well. She then slid the patio door shut and fumbled with the lock before disappearing inside. Fifteen minutes later, the apartment lights went out.

Virgil smiled as he stared at the kitchen window. A light breeze ruffled the curtains like a welcome sign. He waited another two hours before reaching under his seat for a paper bag. Out of it he took the noose, a steak knife, a penlight flashlight, latex gloves, and a pair of heavy wool socks.

He took his shoes off and pulled on the socks, leaving the shoes in his car. Not only would he not leave any identifiable shoe prints to be traced, but the socks would also silence his footsteps.

As Virgil slowly walked down the alley, he took in everything around him. The two hours he had waited had given him plenty of time to study the surroundings, but he was still cautious.

Few apartment lights had been left on in the building. The night was warm and three floors above, the sound of a television could be heard through an open balcony door.

The alley itself was deserted, but the sounds of passing cars and buses could be heard on the street facing the apartment. Enough noise, Virgil figured, to cover any sound he might make upon entering.

The alley was also dark, giving him an escape route if something went wrong, as it did one time when he discovered a woman had a yappy little dog. At that time he was halfway through a window and had to turn and run when he heard the woman calling for the police.

Virgil padded quietly across the patio and stood outside the kitchen window, before moving the curtains aside and peering in. His view looked over the kitchen sink, but he could see a dim glow of light emitting from a hallway.

Is she still up? No sound of televison … maybe reading a book in bed?

Virgil hesitated, then smiled when he realized it was a nightlight plugged into a hall outlet. He lifted the screen from the kitchen window, set it on the ground, and reached for his flashlight.

A quick scan of the counter revealed a soap dispenser and an empty dish rack. He shut off his flashlight and reached in to move them to one side. After another glance over his shoulder to make sure it was safe, he climbed through the window and softly swung his feet down off the counter and onto the kitchen floor.

A surge of adrenaline pumped through his body as he listened. Everything was quiet, but he stood for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, before slowly moving to the hallway.

The nightlight was in a wall outside the first bedroom door. The door was closed and on it was a poster of Batman. At the end of the hall, another door was open, revealing the washroom. At right angles to the washroom, there was another room with an open door.

Virgil moved silently toward the doorway and peeked in. There was enough light that he could make out the young woman’s face against the white pillowcase. Her breathing was heavy and one bare arm lay on top of the sheet.

Ah, my lovely…

Virgil stepped back from the doorway and undressed, taking everything off but his socks and latex gloves. When he was finished, he plucked the condom from its wrapper, then picked up the noose and his knife, before creeping into the bedroom. At the foot of her bed, he paused to stare at her.

For a moment, he visualized his fantasies again. The blood filled his groin until it began to ache. His own breathing had become heavy and he knew it was time.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Late in the morning, Jack was invited to join Oskar, Pike, and Barfoot for lunch at the Seasonal Tastes restaurant inside the hotel. He readily accepted.

The lunch itself was uneventful, although there was some talk from Oskar that if Stew didn’t change his mind, that he better not ever ask Oskar to be his reference.

When they finished lunch, Barfoot said he was returning to his boat and invited everyone to join them.

“Thanks, but no,” replied Oskar. “Ben and I are going up to the hospital to visit Stew.”

“See if you can talk some sense into him?” asked Barfoot.

“Exactly,” replied Oskar.

“Yeah, that’s one guy whose priorities are completely fucked up,” said Pike.

“He’s got a family and is worried about his wife,” noted Barfoot. “I would say he has his priorities in the right order. Still, it does show a lack of obligation to what he was hired to do. Maybe he made his choice out of panic.”

Oh, yeah. He was panicked all right, thought Jack.

“Perhaps things have settled down,” continued Barfoot.

“That’s what we’re hoping to find out,” replied Oskar.

“And you Jack? Are you up to sun-tanning on the deck, drinking a little beer, and perhaps throwing a line in the water?”

“I’d love to,” replied Jack, “providing my boss says it’s okay?” he added, looking at Oskar.

“Why not?” Oskar shrugged. “Make sure you’re back by tomorrow morning for your trip to Hat Yai.”

Jack was pleased to have been invited. Even though Barfoot hadn’t signed any documents yet, he still felt the need to be around him in the event something changed.

Jack made an excuse to go to his room for a moment and quickly alerted Randy as to what was planned.

“We hadn’t planned on you going on any boat ride,” said Randy. “Oskar and Pike won’t be at the hospital long. I’m not risking letting Stew say anything to them. What if Oskar changes his mind and decides to take Barfoot up on his offer? You could be out of range to wear a wire, not to mention we don’t have a boat.”

“Forget the wire, I’m suppose to be sun-tanning. Don’t worry about it. Even if they do show up, Barfoot hasn’t joined the company yet and I don’t see them trying to murder me with him around.”

“Barfoot might also offer to take you to Hat Yai tomorrow on his boat.”

“That, we don’t want,” said Jack, quietly. “Especially if he becomes insured.”

Minutes later, Jack met Barfoot in the lobby and they took a short taxi ride to the Royal Langkawi Yacht Club.

As they walked along a pier at the marina, Jack could not help but feel stunned at some of the beautiful yachts. One in particular caught his eye. It was called the Malaysian Princess.

“That’s mine,” said Barfoot, nonchalantly, as they approached.

“The Malaysian Princess is yours?” exclaimed Jack.

“Yup. Actually it was built in Italy. Ninety feet long, four cabins, and she can do up to twenty-six knots if need be.”

“My God!” said Jack. “It’s huge! And beautiful! You handle it by yourself?”

“She’s supposed to have a crew of three, but I consider myself part of the crew, so I’ve only got two Malaysian chaps on board to crew with me. Their names are Razak and Khalid. Expensive guys to have as sailors, but worth it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Both were commandos with a Malaysian counter-terrorism unit before I hired them. I’m telling you, they are two guys you would never want to mess with.”

“Why the tough guys? I thought you might have a crew of beautiful women,” joked Jack.

Barfoot’s face remained serious. “To the south of us is the Strait of Malacca. It is notorious for piracy. They put out weekly reports on it. Langkawi is part of an archipelago of over a hundred islands, of which only a handful are inhabited. It is very easy for the pirates to attack and disappear in a hurry.”

“I had forgotten about modern-day piracy. You hear about it off the coast of Somalia, but it’s not something you would think of from where I come from.”

“Piracy in these waters has been going on for centuries.” Barfoot caught the sombre look on Jack’s face and slapped him on the back and said, “Don’t worry, the good news is that most of the scows the pirates have would flip over in the wake that the Princess can leave behind.”

“That’s reassuring,” said Jack.

“You have to admit though, it is beautiful around here, but a guy has to keep his head about him, or he could lose it,” added Barfoot.

Jack thought about the boat ride he was to take with Pike tomorrow over to Hat Yai. Would they stage a piracy attack? Leaving only me dead?

“So, welcome aboard,” said Barfoot, when they reached the yacht.

Jack paused for a moment, shaking his head as he looked at the yacht and said, “You told me when we met that you had a house and a boat in Malaysia, but, man … this is no boat. It is one fine-looking yacht.”

“Yeah, bells and whistles are nice, but they still don’t beat having a family.” Barfoot eyed Jack curiously for a moment and said, “I don’t want to pry, but have there been any steps toward reconciliation for you to get back with your wife and children?”

“Some,” replied Jack, feeling bad that he had to lie.

“Glad to hear it. Watch your step.”

Jack stepped onto the back of the yacht and bent over to take off his running shoes.

“Don’t bother,” said Barfoot. “I leave mine on. I want you to feel comfortable.”

“Thanks,” said Jack, giving a chuckle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Telling me to be comfortable. I don’t know if I could ever get comfortable in surroundings like this.” He paused again to look around. “No matter how hard I worked, I don’t think I would ever end up owning one of these. Maybe the rubber boat hoistened to your stern would be more in line with my budget.”

Barfoot smiled and said, “That’s called a tender. It’s your choice, though. If you want, I could take you out in it instead of the Princess. That tender can do around forty knots. It will give you quite a ride.”

Jack grinned. “Thanks, but I think I’d like the Malaysian Princess better.”

“Sort of what I thought,” replied Barfoot, smiling back.

Two Malaysian men appeared from inside the boat and Barfoot introduced them to Jack as Razak and Khalid. Both men were clean-shaven and wore immaculately pressed white T-shirts over crisply ironed blue cotton pants.

Razak and Khalid’s muscular biceps bulged out from their T-shirts and more muscles rippled across their stomachs. Despite having stylish haircuts that would suit a surfer-type image, their faces had the hardened look of soldiers who were seasoned fighters. Jack knew he didn’t have to worry about Barfoot’s safety today.

Despite Razak and Khalid’s tough appearance, each smiled and flashed a row of white teeth as they nodded politely and shook hands with Jack.

Barfoot glanced at Razak and said, “We’ll cast off in about twenty minutes. First, I want to show my guest around.”

Razak and Khalid disappeared back inside as Barfoot reached for his pocket.

“Hang on, got a call,” he said, taking out his phone. “Go ahead, take a look around. I shouldn’t be long.”

Jack nodded and glanced at the yacht. It consisted of three decks. The lower deck, the main deck, and the fly bridge containing the wheelhouse was at the top. Jack climbed a steep stairwell to the main deck where a glance through a door revealed a large seating area and a huge flat-screen television.

Across the back of the main deck was another steep stairwell leading up to the fly bridge. Jack climbed it and then entered the wheelhouse. The wheelhouse was finished in a rich teak and shiny brass fittings adorned the instruments on the control panel in front of a large wooden steering wheel. Sliding doors on either side of the wheelhouse led out onto the deck to the bow of the yacht.

Jack went out to the bow and stood. For a moment he felt like a king, and it reminded him of a movie he had seen called Titanic. As he smelled the salt air, he tried to forget about what tomorrow would bring and enjoy the moment.

After a few minutes Jack went back and saw that Barfoot was still on the phone, so he returned to the bow and sat with his feet dangling over the edge while grinning to himself. Yup, the life of an undercover cop. Can be pretty tough sometimes …

Forty minutes passed before Barfoot appeared beside him.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “Business. The toys don’t come for free. Come on, I’ll give you a tour.”

Jack followed Barfoot down to the lower deck, but as they reached the bottom, they heard someone yell out.

Jack looked and saw Oskar and Pike approaching.

Damn it! At least Oskar isn’t carrying a briefcase with insurance papers ...

“I think Stew may have taken a turn for the worse,” said Oskar, as he got on board. “I could hardly talk to him. They had two doctors hovering around him the whole time I was there.”

Jack smiled to himself. He had a feeling that at least one of the doctors was one of Ahmad’s men.

“He barely got to say there was no way he would stay, before drifting off,” said Pike. “They must have him on some sort of meds.”

“Do you think he is going to be okay?” asked Barfoot.

“I don’t know,” replied Oskar. “I’m beginning to think he might have something worse than food poisoning. I’ve got the number to the hospital. I’ll give them a call and check on him again later.”

“Too bad,” replied Barfoot, “but at least he’s in the right place. And speaking of right places, how about we head out to sea, drink some beer, and forget about work?”

“Hear, hear,” answered Pike.

Jack glanced down the pier and saw Randy give him a helpless look as Khalid leaped from the yacht to untie the moorings.

Jack felt confident that Oskar and Pike wouldn’t dare try anything with Razak and Khalid around. He wasn’t worried … until he felt his phone vibrate and saw that it was Laura calling.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“Drop the knife! Now!”

Virgil spun around at the command that had been screamed at him. He stood dumbfounded near the foot of the bed as the room was emblazoned with light.

Two black-clad men had appeared in the doorway and were pointing Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine guns at him. He felt something brush his ankle and glanced back and saw that another member of the Emergency Response Team had rolled out from under the bed and was also pointing a submachine gun up at him.

Virgil’s mouth gaped open as he looked at the woman in the bed. She was fully clothed and was pointing a pistol at him. Another ERT member had appeared on the far side of the bed.

“I said, drop it! Now!” the man screamed again.

From the bed, Constable Sue McCormick stared at him and smiled. “Very good, but he wasn’t talking about your erection, asshole. Drop the knife!”

Minutes later, while handcuffed in the back of a police car heading for the Major Crime Unit office, Virgil had regained enough of his composure and snarled, “I was set up. Taggart set me up!”

“I didn’t even know your name until after you started eyeballing me in the park this afternoon,” replied McCormick, truthfully.

“Bullshit! He set me up! He broke his word and if I’m not released right fucking now, I’ll be on the phone to my brother. Tell him that!”

McCormick glanced back over the seat and asked, “What does your brother have to do with anything?”

“You really don’t know?” replied Virgil incredulously.

“What? Is he a lawyer? Go ahead and phone him, I don’t care.”

“You really don’t know, do you,” Virgil sneered. “I would suggest you give the bitch he works with, Laura Secord, a call. She might be interested.”

McCormick thought briefly about what she knew. Jack had told her before he left that he might be able to set it up for the rapist to come after her. He even offered to use his young sons to make the undercover scenario look real, providing they were not there at night when the attack would likely take place.

Later, Laura told her that it was Jack’s idea to put two trackers on the rapist’s car, but other than that, she had not been informed of his name. She had been told he would likely be looking for his victim at the park and Laura had arranged an apartment for her to pretend to use. She had not been told anything about the rapist’s brother.

“I understand that Corporal Taggart had met you before,” said McCormick. “He wouldn’t give me your name because of some deal between the two of you. He also said he told you that if you attempted to attack another woman he would have you arrested. You did, and here you are. You have nobody to blame but yourself.”

“Fuck you. I got a right to a phone call. Gee, I wonder who I should call?” he added sarcastically.

“You may wish to talk to Constable Secord first,” replied McCormick. “She will be meeting you when we get to the office.”

“I’m not talking to her without my lawyer,” replied Virgil. “That bitch attacked me before. I’m thinking of charging her with assault. In fact, come to think of it, she may have given me whiplash.”

“You won’t be needing much money where you’re going,” replied McCormick. “I’ll allow you to call your lawyer when we get to the office, but that is it.”

An hour later, Basil Westmount showed up at MCU to say he was representing Virgil.

“For the moment, he is being held incommunicado,” said McCormick, who had been fully debriefed by Laura moments before.

“And why is that?” demanded Westmount.

“A temporary measure, due to an investigation that is in the process of being wrapped up. We will be watching you through the glass. If he attempts to make a phone call, your meeting with him will come to an abrupt end.”

“Really?” mused Westmount. “More business coming my way?”

McCormick shrugged in response. “As far as your client goes, we have a solid case. I’ll let him fill you in on the details, but something he doesn’t realize is that we got his DNA from another victim, along with identifiable knife marks left at the scene.”

“And you have this knife?” asked Westmount.

“No, but we found evidence that the same knife was used in the sexual assault of five women. I am confident that Virgil’s DNA will match and the knife marks then link him to the other victims.”

“Perhaps I better talk to my client.”

Half an hour later, Westmount waved McCormick in to join him with Virgil.

“This is clearly a case of entrapment,” said Westmount, as soon as McCormick was seated. “My client told me how provocatively you dressed this afternoon, basically trying to seduce him. From your actions, he may have concluded that you knew he was watching you and you were wanting him to help you fulfill some sort of sexual fantasy of being attacked.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Come, come, Officer. Surely you are familiar with things like bondage or other sex games that people like to indulge in. Perhaps even yourself … well we won’t go there now, but you can hardly deny that you purposely led him to your apartment. If you hadn’t behaved in such a manner, no crime would have been committed.”

“And for the other women who were attacked?” said McCormick. “Were they all dressed provocatively? Somehow I doubt it, but even if they were, it doesn’t justify being raped,” she said, returning Virgil’s glare. “And as far as living out a sexual fantasy, I would be happy to let a judge or jury decide if that theory would carry any weight.”

“It is my understanding that your evidence in relation to these other women hinges on identifying my client as a result of your seductive performance. If today’s case is tossed out, the rest is like fruit from the poisonous tree. Evidence deemed to have been obtained illegally tonight, could result in all other charges being dismissed.”

“Guess we’ll have to let a judge decide,” replied McCormick.

“I see. Well, there is one other issue to consider as well. It is my understanding that a Corporal Taggart made a deal with my client, which he then broke. I also understand that my client was not to inform certain parties that Corporal Taggart was currently working undercover. Considering the circumstances, one could hardly expect my client to hold up his end of the bargain if you do not hold up your end.”

“I was just apprised as to what you are talking about,” replied McCormick. She smirked as she looked at Virgil. “What are you going to do, Virgil? Call your brother and tell him that you set him up? I think not.”

“I set him up?” replied Virgil, feigning surprise. “What if my brother hears I overheard a conversation after my arrest? Perhaps some officer saying that the other brother is about to be arrested by an undercover cop by the name of Jack?”

McCormick stared at Virgil and did not reply.

“Or perhaps you offered me a deal to help catch him, which I obviously declined?”

“The long and the short of it,” said Westmount, “is you may want to think very carefully about whether or not you wish to proceed with a tenuous charge stemming from entrapment, or one that I understand, involves multiple murders.”

“I, uh, would like a few minutes to confer with a colleague,” said McCormick.

“Do hurry, will you?” Westmount said with a smile. “It is getting rather late and I would like to get back to bed.”

“Me, too.” Virgil grinned.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Before answering Laura’s call, Jack turned to Oskar and said, “Excuse me, it’s my ex. Unusual for her to call this time of night from where she is. I better answer.”

Jack answered his phone while climbing up the stairwells and returning to the bow area in front of the fly bridge. “We’re clear,” he said, talking in a hushed tone.

“Good news, bad news,” said Laura.

“Peaks and valleys,” replied Jack. “What’s the good?”

“I’m in the MCU office. Guess who’s been arrested.”

“You got him?”

“He made his move tonight. We nailed him. Used Mike and Steve earlier in the day. Talk about two little operators, they played their parts perfectly.”

Jack smiled to himself and took a moment to savour the pride he felt.

“Still there?” asked Laura.

“Still here,” replied Jack. “Did you catch him cold?”

“You might say that. He was naked and standing beside the bed with a knife in one hand and a garrot in the other. Not to mention a hard-on.”

“A garrot?”

“He made it out of a piece of broom handle and sash cord. McCormick is convinced from his profile that he intended to kill her.”

“Bet she’s right. Is the bad news what I think it is?”

“Yup. He’s got a lawyer. We’re told if we don’t let him go, Oskar will be notified.”

“Who’s the lawyer?”

“Basil Westmount. Remember him?”

“Yes. Two years ago he defended the guy with the speed lab. He brought the accused’s girlfriend to court with a pillow under her blouse as a ploy to get sympathy from the jury.”

“It worked. He got off.”

“I don’t think his client will get off this time,” replied Jack.

“Never be too sure. He’s already claiming entrapment.”

“They claim that with every undercover operation. Let a judge or jury decide.”

“How long do you need on your end?” asked Laura.

“Tomorrow is when Oskar meets the boss. At the same time I’m supposed to check out a company in a place called Hat Yai. I don’t think they figure I’ll be coming back from there.”

“There is no way we can hold Virgil incommunicado that long,” said Laura.

“It wouldn’t matter if you did. Westmount knows. You can’t stop him from making a call.”

“What do we do? If we don’t cut him loose, it will blow your case out of the water.”

“Tell Westmount that Oskar is about to go into a meeting where it is anticipated that he will be arrested immediately after.” Jack paused as he saw Barfoot, Oskar, and Pike enter the wheelhouse, then said, “Make it abundantly clear to Westmount that there is no way we will cut Virgil loose.”

“He’ll call Oskar immediately.”

“I know,” replied Jack.

Jack shut off his phone and went back to the wheelhouse where Barfoot was navigating the yacht away from the pier, while Oskar and Pike looked on.

“Everything okay?” asked Barfoot.

“I’m not sure,” replied Jack. “My ex called to say my little guy got up in the night for whatever reason and fell down the stairs. She thinks his leg is broken.”

“My God, the poor little guy,” replied Barfoot. “Is he at the hospital?”

“I don’t know,” replied Jack. “My phone died when we were talking. Guess I forgot to charge the battery. Oskar, could I borrow yours for a few minutes?”

“Sure,” replied Oskar, handing Jack his phone.

“Jack, give me your phone,” said Barfoot. “I have the same type. I’ll charge it up for you.”

Jack nodded and passed his phone to Barfoot, while pretending to make a quick call on Oskar’s phone. “I got voicemail, so she must be on the line,” he said, “I’ll try again in a minute.”

“Maybe she’s calling an ambulance,” offered Barfoot.

“Maybe,” replied Jack. “Or a neighbour to babysit. I’m going to go back out on the deck. It might take some time to calm her down and get things looked after.”

Jack didn’t have to wait long for the call.

“Hello. Oskar Cruickshank?”

“Speaking,” replied Jack.

“My name is Basil Westmount. I’m a lawyer representing your brother, Virgil.”

“Oh? Well whatever he is involved with, it has nothing to do with me.”

“Actually you’ll want to listen to what I have to say,” said Westmount. “First of all, let me caution you about what you say. I suspect it may be very buggy where you are in southeast Asia.”

“Really?” said Jack.

“At this very moment, I am walking out of the RCMP Major Crime office in Surrey. Your name came up tonight as being under investigation.”

“Me? That’s absurd,” replied Jack. “I’m not involved in anything illegal.”

“No, of course not and I, uh, understand your need to be prudent, but I am calling as a favour for Virgil.”

“Virgil doing me a favour? That’s a laugh. Let me guess, you’re charging him some outrageous amount and he needs money. What was he caught with, running dope across the line?”

“No. For your information, he is being charged with multiple counts of sexual assault. He is not requesting money, he —”

“Rape! Well that doesn’t surprise me. What a piece of degenerate shit. Wish somebody would lob his balls off and feed them to the dogs.”

“He is doing you a favour,” said Westmount, letting the irritation show in his voice. “He found out that somebody you recently hired, a man who goes by the first name of Jack, is actually an undercover RCMP officer.”

Jack did not reply.

“Did you hear me.”

“I heard you.”

“I understand you are about to go into a meeting.”

“How did you know that?”

“The RCMP informed me. They are holding your brother incommunicado so he can’t call and warn you.”

“How did he know?”

“He told me he overheard them talking. Laughing that they were about to catch both brothers. You and him. Once they discovered he knew, they tried to cut a deal, but Virgil wouldn’t go for it.”

“That has to be bullshit,” growled Jack. “I know Virgil. He’d sell our own mother to make a buck. He only has one guy he looks out for, and that’s him. More likely he already told them about me and is reneging and trying to cut another deal.”

“Uh, well —”

“You tell that piece of shit if I ever see or hear from him again, I’ll be taking out an insurance policy on him!”

“I don’t understand.”

“He will.”

“Well, uh, I’ll pass the message along, but your brother aside, if you are in legal difficulties and are being brought back to Canada, I would be glad to handle —”

“Did you say your name was Westmount?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard about you.”

“I have had good success with many high-profile cases,” replied Westmount optimistically.

“That’s not what my friends say. They say you don’t have the brains that God gave a goat and you rip off your clients. If I need a lawyer, I’ll get one myself, you slimy weasel.”

Jack hung up and glanced up at the wheelhouse and saw Oskar watching him. Jack gave a thumbs-up sign and turned his back while deleting the log of the incoming call before dialing Laura’s cellphone to make it look like he had called his ex. Moments later, Jack smiled as he headed back to the wheelhouse.

That should hold Virgil and Westmount off for a day or two. Then what’s the worst that could happen? They plan on killing me tomorrow regardless …

Jack was wrong on that count. They planned on killing him today.

Chapter Forty

Back in the wheelhouse, Jack handed Oskar back his phone.

“Everything okay?” asked Barfoot.

“I suspect it’s only a sprain, but she is taking him to get checked out at Emergency.”

“Takes after his dad in the athletic department, I take it,” said Pike with a smile.

“I guess so,” Jack replied, looking sheepish. “So, where are we going?”

“I thought we would cruise around a few of the islands,” replied Barfoot. “Maybe do a little fishing and drinking. Perhaps some snorkelling and spearfishing, as well, if anyone wants. I have all the gear on board.”

“Count me out of the snorkelling,” replied Jack. “But a cold beer sounds great.”

“Not a problem,” replied Barfoot. “I have to use the head, so I’ll grab you one on the way back. In the meantime, how about taking over the wheel while I’m gone?”

“You’ll trust me to handle this?” said Jack.

Barfoot smiled and said, “You look like the trustworthy type. Try not to steer it into any islands or other boats. I’ll give you a quick course on some of the instruments if you like.”

“I think you better,” Jack said with a laugh.

“Actually, Ben is well-versed with the Princess,” added Barfoot. “He can keep an eye on you.”

Yeah, that makes me feel better …

The next hour slipped past with Jack and Barfoot at the helm, while Oskar and Pike sat below on the lower deck drinking beer. It was a moment when Jack wished Jim Purney was part of the crew.

Barfoot pointed to an island to the east. “That’s Ko Tarutao. It’s a marine national park in Thailand.”

“Thailand?” Jack asked. “I thought we were in Malaysia.”

“We’re just over the border. Set a direction due west and we’ll come to some more Thai islands.”

“Don’t we have to clear customs?”

“They never bother me unless I stop at an island that’s inhabited,” replied Barfoot. “I feel safer here than to the south, where the pirates hang out.”

During the next hour, Razak appeared and took over steering the yacht while Jack and Barfoot joined Oskar and Pike on the stern. The sky had a few clouds clinging to some of the islands they passed by, but for the most part, the weather was hot and even the breeze off the ocean felt warm.

After passing a cluster of islands, Barfoot glanced at his watch, then stood up and used his hand to shield the sun from his eyes as he peered out at the last island Razak had circled. Then he stared at a piece of kelp floating in the water.

“What’s up?” asked Jack.

“See that island about half a mile away?” said Barfoot, pointing. “The closest one?”

“Sure. That little one that we went around a few minutes ago,” replied Jack. “It looks deserted.”

“That’s the one. Do you think the tide is going in, out, or neither right now?”

“Can’t tell,” replied Jack. “The water is pretty choppy. Why?”

Barfoot grinned. “The three of you pups might be young, strong, and full of vitality, but this old boy is going to teach you a thing or two about fishing. Hang tough while I tell Razak to lower the anchor.”

When Barfoot left, Pike turned to Oskar and said, “I should teach him how to fish like I did in the marines. Toss a grenade in the water and pick ’em up when they float to the surface.”

“I think John prefers to give the fish a sporting chance,” replied Oskar.

“Sporting chances are for suckers,” replied Pike.

“Okay, gentlemen,” said Barfoot upon his return. “The first thing I’ll teach you from my experience, is fish like to feed more when the tide is going in. We’ll each get a rod. Last one to catch something does the supper dishes.”

“I thought your two crew members would do the dishes,” said Pike.

“Did you now?” replied Barfoot. “Well let me tell you something, right now I consider you part of the crew. If you don’t like it, I’ll have Razak and Khalid toss you overboard. Then you can swim to that island and try to find your own dinner to eat.”

Pike looked serious as he studied the distance to the island, then said, “Does seem a bit far to swim.”

“Not that far,” said Barfoot. “If the tide is going in, you’d show up there in about two and a half hours.”

“Actually, I don’t really mind washing dishes,” replied Pike.

Barfoot chuckled and called for Khalid, who soon handed a fishing rod to each of them.

They split up so Barfoot and Jack were on one side of the yacht, while Oskar and Pike were on the other. Barfoot gave them the option of being able to cast their line, or simply lower it in the water and jig. Jack decided the latter would work best for him.

The lines were barely in the water when Oskar caught a fish and reeled it to the side of the yacht where Khalid hauled it in with a fish gaff.

“Barracuda,” noted Barfoot. “Good eating.”

Barracuda on both ends of the line, thought Jack.

Khalid disappeared into the galley with the fish, but seconds later, Pike had a bite. Everyone watched as he pulled on the rod in short bursts while reeling madly. Seconds later, the reel malfunctioned and it was evident that the fish was no longer hooked.

Pike cursed and gestured to a mass of tangled line around the reel.

“Well, I’ll tell ya what,” drawled Barfoot. “I’ll blame that one on the reel. There’s a small plastic toolbox in the cubbyhole beside you. Cut the line and I’ll give you my rod. I have to use the head anyway.”

“Likewise,” said Jack, putting his fishing rod in a holder. “Where is it, by the way?”

“That’s right, I never did give you the tour,” replied Barfoot. “Come on. Once you do your thing, I’ll introduce you to the Princess.”

After Barfoot and Jack each used a washroom on the lower deck near the stern, Barfoot gave Jack a tour of the yacht.

One large guestroom was near the stern, complete with a king-size bed and private bathroom. Walking toward the bow, Jack passed a galley complete with Italian marble counters. Next came two smaller bedrooms on each side of a hallway.

“For Razak and Khalid,” said Barfoot.

“This is absolutely gorgeous,” said Jack. “I’m stunned by the beauty.”

“And my bedroom is here at the bow,” said Barfoot, opening up two French doors to reveal the largest bedroom.

Jack stared at the wall above the headboard, speechless.

Barfoot saw what Jack was looking at and gestured to the huge marlin mounted on the wall and said, “Caught that monster on a trip to Mexico. The guys still call me Mr. Marlin sometimes. It took me six hours to reel it in.”

Jack looked at Barfoot and knew he was looking at the real monster. A man capable of being a charming manipulator. It hid the fact that he was a psychopath.

Jack stared back at the marlin, stuffed and mounted on the wall. He felt like he had been reeled in himself.

Chapter Forty-One

Jack followed Barfoot back toward the stern. On the way he asked, “Where is my phone? I expect it should be charged by now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, that’s right,” replied Barfoot. “I forgot all about it. I think I left it up in the wheelhouse. I’ll go get it and put it in the charger right away.”

“It might not have been the battery,” replied Jack. “I’ve had trouble with it lately. Sometimes it cuts out when the battery is still good. Let me try it again.”

As soon as they went outside, Barfoot said, “Yup, I would say the tide is going in. I think it’s time to reel in the lines, guys. I’m going to move the Princess to a different position.”

“It’s time?” Pike asked, giving a sideways glance at Jack.

Barfoot nodded.

Jack knew then what was in store for him. The comment about the tide taking two and a half hours to float someone to shore was about him. Insurance companies were averse to paying out if they didn’t have a body for proof. He turned quickly and climbed the stairwell.

“Where you going?” asked Oskar.

“To the wheelhouse to get my phone,” replied Jack.

A quick scan of the wheelhouse told him his phone was not there. He looked at the island off in the distance. A good swimmer might be able to cover the distance easily enough. The trouble was, if they saw him swimming, he would not be given that option.

He slipped out one of the side doors leading onto the bow of the boat, where a rope used for moorage lay curled neatly on the deck. Jack tossed it into the water and hurried back to the wheelhouse as Pike and Barfoot arrived.

“What are you doing?” asked Barfoot.

“Couldn’t find my phone and got distracted by the beauty. It feels so wonderful, especially when you are out on the bow. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“It certainly is,” Barfoot said, smiling. “Oh, and I remember, I did bring your phone downstairs. It’s on the counter in the galley. In the meantime, go reel in your rod. I’m going to move to another location.”

Jack made his way back down to the lower deck. When he arrived he saw that his rod had already been taken in and heard the yacht power up.

Oskar looked at him and said, “Jack, did I ever tell you what an asset I think you are to the company?”

Before Jack could reply, he was grabbed on each arm by Razak and Khalid.

“Hey, guys! What —”

Pike buried his fist deep into Jack’s stomach, doubling him over.

Seconds later, Jack was tossed off the back of the yacht. The ocean water surged over his head before he flapped madly to the surface, screaming for help as the yacht pulled slightly away from him, before cutting power.

“I can’t swim!” he cried. “Throw me the life preserver!”

Oskar picked up a life preserver ring hanging on a hook at the back of the yacht and shouted back to him. “You mean this one?”

“Throw it, quick!” spluttered Jack, going under the surface momentarily, before sticking his head out of the water again. The Malaysian Princess had coasted to about the length of two swimming pools away.

“Sorry,” Oskar yelled back at him. “I would like to, but you’re too far.” He tossed it at Pike who laughed and tossed the preserver back on the hook.

Had the yacht been closer, Jack would have swum underwater to the far side where the bowline dangled in the water, but the distance was too great. Even with the choppy waves, he would be seen if he popped his head up partway.

Jack floundered in the water for a moment more, taking deep breaths and slowly exhaling to build up his stamina, before slipping beneath the surface. When he did, he swam underwater at a right angle to the yacht.

When his lungs screamed for air, he surfaced with only his mouth above water, before continuing. This time he went parallel to the yacht.

The second time Jack surfaced for air, he risked sticking his head out of the water for a peek. He was midway along the yacht and caught a glimpse of the men still at the stern, gazing out to where he had been thrown in.

Moments later, Jack made his way to the far side of the yacht and held on to the bowline. The sleek curvature of the bow kept him hidden if someone looked down from above or from the stern.

Jack thought his plan was relatively simple. He presumed they would move closer to the island and wait for the tide to bring him in. He would then swim to shore and remain hidden. He figured that eventually they would give up looking for his body and leave. The small island was deserted, but sooner or later someone would find him.

Jack could hear the murmur of voices, but was too far away to hear what they were saying. A splash in the water, followed by another splash, told him that something was up and he risked peeking around the bow.

Razak and Khalid had each donned bathing suits, swim fins, and goggles and were swimming out to look for his body.

Half an hour passed before they returned to the yacht. Moments later, the vessel powered up and headed towards the island. It did not go at a high speed, but Jack was forced to pull himself waist-high out of the water to avoid being dragged like a lure and drowned.

Minutes later, the yacht powered down and Jack felt a brief moment of panic from the sudden noise of the electric anchor as it rumbled past him.

Jack studied the island. There was a sandy beach backed by coconut trees facing him. One end of the beach could be walked to the other within ten minutes. The beach itself was bordered with boulders and rock cliffs.

Jack could swim to the island in about twenty minutes, but didn’t want to risk it in daylight hours. The sun was low in the horizon and he knew it would be dark enough in another hour.

Minutes after the engines were shut off, Jack heard the sound of the tender being lowered in the water where it soon roared to life. He quickly positioned himself directly in front of the bow so he could hide on one side of the yacht or the other, depending upon where the tender was driven. The incoming tide had caused the yacht to slowly swing around so that the bow was facing out to sea.

Jack watched as Razak and Khalid roared back out to sea on the tender, where they drove around in circles searching for his body. Jack then heard Barfoot and Oskar on the bow above. It was evident that they were watching the tender, as well.

“If they don’t find him, we’ll go to shore and wait,” said Barfoot.

Jack swam farther back along the bow where the curvature would still hide him, but in a position where he was directly below the two men. He noticed that the bowline he had left dangling over the side was being hauled back on board.

“The trouble with hiring soldiers and not sailors,” joked Barfoot, from above.

“Doesn’t look like they’re having much luck out there,” commented Oskar.

“No problem. We’ll wait and let nature do its thing. Tell you what, I’ll call them back and get them to take us to shore. You up for a little target practice? It’ll be fun.”

“Target practice?”

“I’ve got a stash of weapons hidden on board. You never know when you’ll need them in these waters.”

Jack heard the squelch from a walkie-talkie as Barfoot ordered his men to return. When the tender came closer, Jack held his breath and went under the water until he knew which side of the yacht the tender would pass on as it made its way to the stern.

A few minutes later, the tender headed to shore with Barfoot, Oskar, Pike, and Khalid. Jack watched as several items were unloaded, including folding chairs, a cooler, and a large duffel bag. Khalid then got back in the tender and slowly cruised back out to sea, scanning the ocean with binoculars as he went.

It was getting dark when Pike lined up several coconuts on a piece of driftwood on the beach. The sound of gunfire erupted moments later as the three men took turns with pistols. This was later followed by the sound of fully automatic machine-gun fire.

Jack decided the distraction would be a good time for him to swim to shore. He took a deep breath and swam as much of the distance underwater as he could. Despite the darkness, he did not want to chance Razak spotting him from above, who would no doubt also be scanning the ocean for his body.

By the time Jack had reached a rocky outcrop at the far end of the beach, the men had stopped firing and he could see Pike collecting driftwood to make a bonfire.

Jack settled in amongst the rocks and waited while Barfoot, Oskar, and Pike sat in their folding chairs around the fire. It was dark enough that he knew they would be able to see little beyond the fire and he felt comfortable in his position.

He knew Razak was somewhere on board the yacht and Khalid was using a spotlight mounted on the front of the tender as he cruised back and forth.

I’m safe. Just sit tight until I’m rescued. As Jack waited, he went over the evidence in his mind and the horrible reality of the situation hit him.

What can I prove about Barfoot? He was in the wheelhouse when I was tossed overboard. Defence will claim it was a prank. The guys were just horsing around and didn’t realize he couldn’t swim until it was too late. Barfoot even sent his men out in fins and goggles to look for him …

Jack stared at the men around the bonfire. If he was going to convict Barfoot, he knew he needed more evidence.

Chapter Forty-Two

Jack climbed around a few boulders at the end of the beach and made his way to the edge of the trees before heading down the beach toward the fire. Soon he got to a point where he crept on his hands and knees.

The shadows from the flames flickered on the men’s faces as they sat in a circle around the fire while talking and drinking beer. Jack watched their faces carefully for any sign that they would detect him as he squirmed on his belly close enough to hear.

The first conversation he overheard was Oskar talking about buying a home in the same area as Barfoot.

“I’d recommend it,” replied Barfoot. “I’ve already done all the work when it comes to paying off the right people. If things ever went sideways, we’d be safe there.”

“No extradition?” asked Pike.

“Malaysia does have sort of a gentleman’s agreement for extradition, but nothing concrete and they can be picky on who they decide to send back and who they don’t.”

“Nothing we have to worry about, regardless,” said Oskar.

“No, but consider it insurance,” said Barfoot, bringing laughter to the group.

Their conversation was interrupted by the roar of the tender as Khalid slowly cruised along the waves near the beach, while scanning the water with the spotlight.

“Bet that thing can really move,” said Pike.

“It can do up to forty knots,” said Barfoot. “Faster than the Princess.”

“Wouldn’t mind taking it for a spin sometime,” commented Pike.

“Go ahead, be my guest,” replied Barfoot, reaching for the walkie-talkie.

Moments later, Khalid came ashore and Pike roared off in the tender. When Khalid approached the fire, he walked around a little and put his hands on his hips to stretch his muscles.

Jack hesitated, wondering whether to creep back toward the treeline, but decided that Khalid had no reason to venture his way.

Khalid stood for a moment, looking toward the piece of driftwood where the others had been target-practising earlier. The shape of three coconuts remained and were barely visible in the darkness. He then bent over and tossed another piece of wood into the fire and the flames crackled and momentarily shot higher.

Jack put his face into the sand so that it would not reflect the light. Three shots barked out in rapid succession and he felt the nerves in his body twitch. His impulse was to flee, but when he looked up, he realized Khalid was shooting at the coconuts.

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled to calm himself. Khalid had used a pistol and all three shots had found their mark. With a rifle, it may have been easy, but considering that Khalid had opted to use a pistol at that distance, Jack was impressed with his ability.

“Khalid, hand me your binos,” said Barfoot. “I want to take a look at that.”

Jack saw that Barfoot was looking at the lights of another boat farther out to sea.

“What is it?” asked Oskar. “Squid boat?”

“No,” replied Barfoot. “Luxury boat. Probably about a fifty-footer. Lights on and barely moving. My guess is a romantic dinner cruise,” he said, handing the binoculars back to Khalid. “Maybe somebody else enjoying their corporate asset,” he joked.

“Think they will have heard the shots?” asked Oskar.

“Probably, but nobody ever pays attention. They sell so many fireworks in Thailand that people don’t even bother to look up at stuff like this.” Barfoot glanced at Khalid and added, “That being said, that was nice shooting, but we are trying to relax. I want you to walk the beach and see if the tide has brought him in yet.”

Barfoot and Oskar were relatively quiet for a few minutes while Khalid wandered down the beach. Eventually Oskar stood and stretched for a moment, gazing out at the ocean before saying, “Speaking of corporate assets, where the hell is our floater?”

“I don’t know,” replied Barfoot. “He should have rolled in by now. I had Razak toss a pig carcass over the side yesterday around the same time. It washed up in about two and a half hours.”

Jack felt pleased with what he had heard. Barfoot had clearly implicated himself.

“We’ve already been here three hours, replied Oskar, looking at his watch.

“Hope he didn’t get tangled in some kelp, or something,” muttered Barfoot. “It would make me feel better to know we have the body. Insurance companies can be a little sticky otherwise.”

Oskar sat back down and the men were silent for a moment, watching Pike roar around on the tender. Eventually Pike returned to the yacht. The Princess had most of its lights on and from shore, they could see Razak helping Pike step aboard.

“What’s Pike up to?” wondered Barfoot.

“He was doing a little bit of the Mexican two-step earlier,” replied Oskar. “Probably a trip to the head.”

“Hope he doesn’t have what Stew Potter has,” replied Barfoot.

“Speaking of that idiot,” chuckled Oskar, “wouldn’t it be funny if after all this planning, that he died on his own?”

“That would be hilarious, as long as he does it when we still have insurance on him,” noted Barfoot.

“I’m going to give the hospital a call,” said Oskar. “Maybe our ship already came in, so to speak.”

Moments later, Jack heard Oskar connect with the hospital. “Yes, I’m calling about Stewart Potter. I’m worried about him. Is he okay?” Seconds later, Oskar jumped to his feet, knocking his chair over backwards. “Say that again!”

“What is it?” asked Barfoot.

Oskar looked stunned as he hung up, staring at the phone.

“Oskar? What’s up?” prodded Barfoot. “Is he dead?”

“Christ, far from it,” replied Oskar. “You won’t believe it.”

“Believe what?” demanded Barfoot.

“The nurse said not to worry about him and that he is fine. She said the police who were protecting him in the hospital took him to the airport.”

Jack groaned inwardly. His instincts told him to leave, but at the same time he wanted to hear what they would say. He flattened himself down on the sand and inched a little closer, barely breathing as he strained to listen. It was a move that wasn’t necessary. Panic had caused the men to raise their voices.

“They’re on to us!” blurted Barfoot, getting to his feet.

“Gotta be,” replied Oskar, his voice sounding shrill. “What’ll we do?”

“Get our asses back to Malaysia,” said Barfoot, determinedly. “We’ll be safe there.”

Jack frowned. Okay, so you’ll all get away with murder … not really my business on how international politics works. Don’t make it personal. If they’re not extradited, that’s the way the cookie crumbles …

“Then let’s go,” said Oskar. “Get the tender back here!”

“Hang on a sec,” replied Barfoot. “Let’s sit a minute, he said, motioning with his hand for Oskar to sit. “We should think things through a bit. First of all, how did they get on to us?”

Oskar stared at Barfoot for a moment, then took a seat. “Maybe the insurance companies finally put it together,” he suggested.

“Maybe, but if so, what do they really know?” questioned Barfoot. “Or better yet, what can they prove?”

“None of us have been arrested yet … so maybe they don’t have anything,” replied Oskar, optimistically.

“Maybe.”

“Still, I’d feel safer talking about it back in Malaysia.”

“Didn’t you think it kind of funny that one of our best guys slipped and died while trying to kill Jack in the Golden Triangle?”

“What are you getting at?”

“And that we haven’t found Jack’s body yet?”

Oskar looked stunned. “Christ, I really don’t like where this is headed.”

“There was even that moorage line,” said Barfoot, thoughtfully.

“Moorage line?”

“Hanging off the bow. It should have been nicely curled on the deck and not hanging in the water.”

“Oh my God!” replied Oskar. “You’re thinking he is still alive and hitched a ride back with us?”

“Possibly.”

Jack saw both men turn and look toward the ocean, then Oskar rummaged in the duffle bag and grabbed a pistol and got to his feet. “If he is, we better find him. The island isn’t that big. It shouldn’t take long.”

Jack slowly started to inch his way backwards.

“If it was daytime, we might find him,” replied Barfoot. “That’s if he is around, or doesn’t swim out and hide in the ocean.”

“We can’t leave him! If he’s alive, we’re dead!”

“I know, but if he is, I don’t think we would find him before the police found us.”

“Then we sure as Christ better get the hell out of here!”

“I agree, but it is important to calm down and think logically. How do we know they’re not looking for us right now?” asked Barfoot.

“You’re thinking that could be them on that boat you were looking at?” asked Oskar, as he spun around to look out over the ocean.

“No, that one’s too nice. These waters are usually patrolled by the Thai military. Neither they nor the police have any boats that look that nice.”

“Good, then let’s get out of here.”

“Let me finish. If the police were protecting Potter, you can bet they were protecting Jack as well. My guess is they’re probably doing their best to locate the Malaysian Princess at this very moment.”

“So both the military and the police could be looking for us?”

“From what you said about Potter’s protection, I’m sure of it.”

“Makes it all the more urgent to go,” said Oskar, excitedly.

“Hold your horses. The Princess isn’t exactly something that slips by unnoticed. If we do try and make a run for it and they catch us, there is no way they’ll believe that Jack drowned.”

“They’d nail our asses to the wall.”

“You got that right. Neither one of us would see the light of day ever again. Worse yet, if he is still alive … well either way, it likely won’t matter. If we’re caught, we’re dead. Thailand believes in capital punishment.”

“Oh, fuck. So what should we do?” asked Oskar.

“We need some insurance,” said Barfoot, rising to his feet and pointing to the boat that was off in the distance. “I think we should grab that one. The authorities won’t be looking for it. Kill whoever is on board and use it to get back. The murders might even get blamed on the pirates.”

International politics and extradition treaties were no longer on Jack’s mind. He glanced out to sea at the lights from the boat. Someone’s romantic cruise was about to turn into a nightmare.

Wonder how many people are on board … or if they have children?

“And leave the Malaysian Princess?” asked Oskar.

“Would you would prefer to be executed?” replied Barfoot.

“No!”

“I’ll tell Razak and Khalid to bring the Princess back. They’ll do what I tell them. If need be, they might also act as a distraction by making a run for it. If they make it, great, if not, that’s too bad.”

“Let’s do it.”

“I’ll radio Razak and tell him to pick us up. With luck, we’ll be on our way in that other boat within the hour.”

Hiding and waiting to be rescued is no longer an option …

Jack was already heading down the beach toward Khalid, when he heard Barfoot using his walkie-talkie to call Razak.

The level of the beach dropped as it neared the ocean. As long as Jack remained doubled over, Barfoot and Oskar would not be able to see him from where they were.

Khalid was strolling down the beach away from him. The waves, only knee-deep as they hit the shore, took on a luminescent glow as they rolled in. He knew Khalid would have his attention focused on the waves.

Jack was no longer worried about leaving footprints. He stopped at the water’s edge and quickly took off one running shoe and a sock.

Guess what, asshole, you’re about to find out that I’m very much alive!

Chapter Forty-Three

The sudden appearance of a shadow in the moonlight told Khalid that someone was behind him. He glanced back to look, but was too late. The first blow to his temple emitted a wet-sounding thud. Jack thought the blow might have killed him, but it didn’t.

Khalid only fell to his hands and knees, but was stunned and his mouth gaped open as he blinked and tried to get to his feet.

Jack quickly struck again. His weapon was his sock. Packed with wet sand and twisted and knotted to hold the sand firmly in place, it made an ideal club. This time his blow landed on the opposite temple and Khalid dropped face-first into the sand.

Jack’s plan had been to take Khalid out silently, then take his pistol to get the drop on Barfoot and Oskar. He could then use one of their phones to call for help.

So far, his plan was working. Khalid was still breathing, but completely unconscious and had not yelled out during the attack.

Jack quickly rolled him over, searching for the pistol. That was when the plan fell apart. There was no pistol. Khalid had left it back in the duffel bag at the fire pit.

The sound of the tender caught his immediate attention. In the lights from the yacht, he could see Pike untying the tender for Razak. Seconds later, Pike shoved the tender off and Razak gunned the engine and headed for shore.

Jack recalled Barfoot’s comment. It can do up to forty knots … faster than the Princess …

A new plan emerged. Steal the tender and warn the people on the other boat to call for help. Jack figured if he could pull it off, it would take everyone at least twenty minutes to swim to the yacht. It would give him enough of a head start to warn the others who could call for help while they escaped.

Jack raced back down the beach and could see Barfoot and Oskar folding the chairs and preparing to leave. He looked at the tender roaring across the water, its spotlight shining like a locomotive. Jack guessed he had less than two minutes before it arrived. He took a deep breath and plunged into the water.

Jack lay on his back in chest-deep water with his arms stretched out, while one foot occasionally bounced off the bottom to help keep him afloat. He hoped he looked dead, otherwise he knew he would be.

He heard the tender bouncing across the water as it drew near. Razak cut the throttle down as he approached and soon felt the bump of the tender against his arm.

“Guys! I found him!” he heard Razak yell. “Floated in right at you!” he added.

A muffled reply came from Barfoot, but Jack did not hear and held his breath as his head dipped under the water. Okay, haul me in, asshole. I’ve got a little surprise for you …

Jack was the one who was in for a surprise. Razak didn’t bother to haul him into the tender, instead, opting to grab him by the wrist and tow him to shore.

Shit!

As Jack’s body started to drag behind the tender, he twisted his body and braced both feet on the bottom while wrapping his fingers around Razak’s wrist and yanking as hard as he could. He hoped it would catch Razak off guard and topple him into the water, giving him a chance to grab the tender and make good his escape.

Razak’s body turned and half fell over the back of the tender, but for the most part, he remained still inside. “He’s alive!” Razak shouted.

Jack heard more shouts from the beach and his feet momentarily came off the bottom as Razak gunned the engine with his other hand. Barfoot and Oskar were both shouting and running toward them on the beach.

Jack was barely aware that the propeller had taken a gash out of his shin as he struggled to brace his feet again, while trying to pull Razak out.

Briefly, he came face to face with Razak who managed to clamp both hands around Jack’s throat before forcing his head under the water. Jack flailed with his arms, twisting and turning while thrashing his body in a bid to escape.

Razak had the advantage of height from above to lean down and use his strength and weight to force Jack’s head under the water. Looking up through the churning bubbles, Jack could make out the blurred silhouette of Razak’s head.

Jack’s body cried out for air as the energy he expended demanded that he breathe. He lifted his feet off the bottom and the tender surged slightly ahead before Jack braced himself again, while getting one more gulp of air before being forced back under the water.

Razak’s knees and legs were still in the tender but the upper part of his body was stretched out over the back as he dug his thumbs deeper into Jack’s throat.

Razak expected Jack to try and pry his hands off … so he was caught off guard when Jack reached up and grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head and plunged him face-first into the propeller.

Razak immediately let go of Jack’s neck, but he was too late to fend off the attack. The effervescent foam around the engine became a red froth as Jack held the tender in place with one hand, while mashing Razak’s face and throat into the propeller.

Jack was conscious of Oskar approaching the front of the tender, but fear, coupled with adrenaline, caused him to push longer than necessary. He could feel the vibration from the propeller as it struck the bones in Razak’s face.

It was a burst of machine-gun fire that told Jack it was time to let go of Razak’s limp body. Oskar had now grabbed the front of the tender and was pulling it to one side to get a better shot at Jack.

Jack’s plan to climb in the tender was no longer an option, so he spun around and dived back into the ocean.

As he swam underwater he expected to see or hear the zing of bullets in the water around him … or worse yet, to feel them enter his body, but he didn’t. When his lungs once more craved air, he cautiously stuck his head out of the water.

Razak’s body was still hanging over the back of the tender, but when he had been hauled over the back, it had caused the tender to change direction. It was now headed parallel to the beach and being chased by Oskar, who was holding his automatic rifle above the waves while trying to catch up to it.

Jack became conscious of the gash across his shin. I’ve heard sharks can smell a drop of blood up to a quarter of a mile …

A squawk from a walkie-talkie caught his attention and he saw that Barfoot was standing on the beach a short distance away with another automatic rifle. Jack heard him radioing Pike and telling him to raise the anchor and move closer to shore, as they may have to swim.

Jack glanced back at the tender as it hit a wave and saw Razak’s body bounce like a rag doll as it hung off the back. The wave caused the tender to change direction again and it headed closer to shore.

Jack heard Barfoot stop mid-sentence and he realized he had been spotted. He took a gulp of air and dived again. Phosphorescent darts of light streaking past him announced that he was being fired upon and he swam deeper and faster than he ever knew he could.

If I live, what do I do? Watch while they go murder the people on that boat and escape? Christ, I need air again …

Chapter Forty-Four

Barfoot emptied his magazine, then lowered his weapon. “Khalid! Where the hell are you?” he screamed.

Not getting an answer, Barfoot cursed to himself, then picked up the duffel bag containing the weapons and plodded down the beach toward Oskar, who had managed to grab hold of the tender and shut off the engine.

A short distance down the beach, Barfoot found Khalid’s body laying at the ocean’s edge. Farther down the beach he saw that Oskar had dragged the tender ashore and was pulling Razak’s body back inside.

“Oskar!” he yelled. “Haul that thing over here. I found Khalid. I need the light.”

Moments later, Barfoot and Oskar both bent over Khalid who was now illuminated from the spotlight on the tender.

“What’s wrong with him?” asked Oskar. “He’s still breathing. He isn’t dead.” Oskar shook Khalid by the shoulder, but there was no response.

Barfoot opened Khalid’s eyelids and saw that one eye had haemorrhaged, turning red.

“What the hell did he do to him?” muttered Barfoot. “He must have hit him on the head with something, but I don’t see any head wounds.

Oskar glanced out at the ocean. “Who the hell is that guy? First Rabbit, then Razak and now Khalid. He isn’t some ordinary chump with asthma who —”

“Razak?” replied Barfoot. “I thought you shot him by mistake when they were fighting behind the tender.”

“No way! I aimed high on purpose so I wouldn’t hit Razak by mistake. I thought Jack would surrender. It wasn’t me who killed him. When the tender took off, I saw Razak hanging off the back. I thought maybe he was just knocked out and chased after him so he wouldn’t drown.”

“He drowned?”

“Hell, no, he didn’t drown. Let me show you.”

Oskar and Barfoot leaned inside the tender and rolled Razak over onto his back.

“See?” said Oskar. “His face is practically missing. Christ, look at his neck! His head is almost cut off! I didn’t do that.”

“You’re right,” growled Barfoot. “Who the hell did you really hire?”

“I don’t know. I did it on your advice,” grumbled Oskar.

“I figured the guy was smart and would handle the legit stuff well.”

“I thought he was a wimp, but look what he did to Razak.”

“Yeah, I see that.” Barfoot shook his head and looked around, then gestured to Razak’s body. “Don’t know why you hauled him inside. He’s no good to us, except as crab bait. Dump him out and we’ll put Khalid in there. Maybe he’ll come around.”

Minutes later, they loaded Khalid into the tender and Barfoot glanced out at the Malaysian Princess. The yacht was slowly moving parallel to the beach and Pike was in the wheelhouse, using a spotlight mounted on the roof above him to scan the waters.

“Jesus Christ!” screamed Barfoot. “There he is!” he yelled, while grabbing his walkie-talkie.

Jack had quietly hauled himself up onto the swim grid on the back of the Malaysian Princess. The yacht was lit up like a small city, but he saw that Barfoot and Oskar were busy loading Khalid onto the tender, so he climbed on board and crouched down. From the spotlight scanning the water, he knew Pike was in the wheelhouse.

Is Pike packing a gun? With his training, he wouldn’t need one if he gets his hands on me …

Jack’s new plan relied on the element of surprise: bash Pike on the head from behind, without giving him a chance to either fight or draw a weapon, then use the yacht’s radio to send out a warning and call for the authorities to help him.

He opened up the small plastic toolbox that Pike had used earlier to fix his reel and looked inside.

Goddamn it! What good is a toolbox without a hammer?

Seconds later, Jack ran toward the first stairwell, leading up to the main deck.

Jack heard Barfoot’s excited voice blast out over the walkie-talkie Pike had with him in the wheelhouse.

“Jack is on the Princess behind you!”

Oh, shit…

“Repeat,” he heard Pike yell. “Did you say he is on the boat? Or behind it?”

Jack raced up the first stairwell, but before he could take the second one to the wheelhouse, he heard Pike’s footsteps above him running toward the top of the stairwell.

Jack stepped through the door leading into the main deck and ducked behind a lounge chair. If Pike entered, he would make another attempt at a surprise attack.

Knowing Pike’s training, I’ve probably got about a snowball’s chance in hell …

Seconds later, he saw Pike run past the doorway and heard him slip and partially fall as he clamoured down the steep stairwell to the lower deck. The stairs were not much different than a ladder, but plastic sides prevented Pike from falling completely and he grunted and continued on.

Jack quickly took the opportunity to go back out and climb up to the wheelhouse.

“Did you see where he went?” Pike screamed into the walkie-talkie from below.

Barfoot’s reply was interrupted with static and the sound of the engine from the tender.

“Can’t copy!” yelled Pike. “You’re broken. Go again. Did he go inside the lower deck?”

“Negative! Negative! He got past you. He’s in the wheelhouse!”

Jack looked at the control panel and saw a microphone. He knew he wouldn’t have time to explain his location and get a message out before Pike returned. He saw a row of switches marked LIGHTS and turned them off. The wheelhouse plunged into darkness, as well as the yacht’s running lights and all exterior lights.

Pike had already reached the top of the first stairwell and screamed up at him. “You think you can fuck with me you wimpy little bastard! The dark ain’t gonna save ya!”

Jack heard the sound of Pike’s feet pounding across the main deck to the second stairwell. This won’t be pretty …

Jack lay on his belly and squirmed over to the top of the stairwell and waited.

As soon as Pike’s head cleared the top, Jack reached out with his left arm and locked it around his neck, reefing him tight, while simultaneously plunging a screwdriver into his temple.

Pike never had time to utter a sound. A shudder went through his body as the shaft of the screwdriver penetrated through his skull like it was a melon. It pierced deep into his brain, not stopping until the hilt of the handle slammed against the side of his head.

Jack stared into Pike’s eyes and said, “Bet you’re not happy with that. Consider yourself screwed, asshole.”

When Jack let go, Pike’s body tumbled down the stairwell to the main deck. Seconds later, Jack searched him.

Again with no gun! What is it with you tough guys?

Jack heard the roar of the tender approaching as the walkie-talkie on Pike’s belt squawked.

“Pike! What’s happening?” demanded Barfoot. “You copy me? Over.”

Jack guessed he would have three minutes before they boarded. He also knew one thing for certain. They did have guns.

Chapter Forty-Five

Jack saw that Pike was wearing tan-coloured cargo shorts similar to what he had on, but his shirt was a different colour. A new plan came to mind.

Jack ripped Pike’s shirt off, not bothering to undo the buttons. He then tore his own shirt off, before grabbing Pike’s cellphone and walkie-talkie.

“Pike here. Can you copy?” said Jack. As he spoke he clicked the transmitter button on the walkie-talkie off and on repeatedly, giving a slightly broken message that would sound like static.

“Copy. What’s happening?” asked Barfoot, over the roar of the engine as Oskar directed the tender straight for the yacht.

“Over the starboard side,” said Jack, repeatedly clicking the button. “Badly injured. Grabbed a life preserver and jumped.”

“Starboard side! Copy!” yelled Barfoot.

“I’ll swing around and use the spotlight,” replied Jack, while climbing back up to the wheelhouse.

Barfoot ignored his yacht as it pulled away at high speed. His focus was on a life preserver in the water that the spotlight on the tender had illuminated. As they neared, the Princess had circled around at high speed and was approaching the preserver from the opposite direction.

Barfoot could see that the preserver was around the lower legs, with the feet sticking out one end while the body floated face down beneath the water on the other end.

Moments later, the spotlight on the yacht highlighted the life preserver from the opposite side.

“I see him!” yelled Oskar, as he and Barfoot used their hands to shield their eyes. Although the Princess was still a considerable distance away, the glare from its powerful spotlight still reflected off the water as it approached.

“Let me finish the bastard,” added Oskar, turning off the engine.

As the tender silently slid through the water up to the life preserver, Oskar grabbed the assault rifle he had laying on top of the duffel bag.

Chunks of the life preserver showered into the air as Oskar opened up with the machine gun. Many of the bullets found what he was aiming at and bloody chunks of flesh were torn from the thighs and buttocks. He didn’t stop until the magazine was empty.

“We got him!” radioed Barfoot, glancing at the Princess. “Slow down! Do you see us? We got him!”

“I see you, copy that,” replied Jack.

Barfoot gazed down at the body in the water. Something didn’t look quite right. The hair seems red … or is it from the blood? He reached in the water and hauled the bloody head out by the collar. He stared in disbelief at Pike’s face, with a screwdriver handle seemingly attached to his skull.

The sound of his yacht running at full speed echoed in Barfoot’s brain and alerted him to the danger. He looked at Oskar and yelled, “Get us out of here!”

Oskar stood dumbfounded for a moment, looking at the screwdriver handle sticking out of Pike’s head.

Barfoot dropped Pike and stumbled over Khalid’s prone body toward the engine, but knew he was too late when the hull of the Malaysian Princess briefly cast its dark shadow upon them.

Jack heard Oskar scream as he drove the yacht over them. It was followed by a clunking sound of the tender’s engine hitting the hull of the yacht, before the shredded remains of the tender were spit out the back.

Jack spun the yacht around immediately and shone the spotlight on the wreckage. Only the nose of the tender protruded from the water.

Good …

Then a head bobbed to the surface and he watched as Barfoot did a slow breast-stroke over to cling onto what was left of the tender. Jack put the engine in neutral and stepped out on the upper deck to look down at him.

“Swim to shore if you want,” yelled Jack. “I’ll get on the radio and wait.”

“My leg,” yelled Barfoot, “I’m bleeding bad. I need help.”

“More like you have a gun tucked in your pants and want to shoot me,” replied Jack.

“No, I don’t. Everything was in the duffel bag … except for what Oskar was using and it was empty. Please … help me.”

Jack saw that the water around Barfoot had turned a shade of red.

“You really are hurt,” noted Jack.

Barfoot nodded.

“Can you swim over?”

“My arms are okay. I can make it,” replied Barfoot, letting go.

“Not so fast, asshole, stay there!”

Barfoot grabbed onto the tender again and looked up at Jack.

“I sure as hell am not taking your word for it that you’re not packing,” yelled Jack. “Take off all your clothes. Then do a little roll in the water and spread your legs and arms so I can see. If you are packing, I’ll be running over you again.”

Barfoot did as requested and Jack waved for him to come over, before going down to the swim grid to meet him and drag him in by the arms.

Naked and bleeding profusely, Barfoot lay on the deck while breathing heavily. Jack saw a short series of deep cuts to the inside of Barfoot’s leg that had been caused from the propeller. Blood poured onto the deck like it was coming from a severed garden hose.

“Clamp your hand over it,” ordered Jack. “Looks like your femoral artery has been sliced. You’ll bleed out within fifteen minutes if we don’t stop it.”

Barfoot sat up and clamped both hands over the wound, slowing the blood flow only a little. He glanced at Jack who was standing over him while taking his belt off.

“There’s a first aid kit up in the wheelhouse,” gasped Barfoot.

“I’ll get it in a minute. First we’ll use this to make a tourniquet,” said Jack.

“Thank you,” said Barfoot, as Jack tightened his belt around the thigh.

“Thank me when you’re convicted, you bastard,” replied Jack, reefing his belt tight.

Barfoot stared silently at Jack’s face, but didn’t reply.

“You’ve killed a lot of people … and left a lot of kids and mothers without their dads or husbands,” said Jack, bitterly. “I should really throw you back in and see how long it takes the sharks to find you.”

Barfoot swallowed but remained silent.

The holes for the belt buckle did not match up with the end of the belt when Jack tightened it, so he handed the loose end to Barfoot. “Pull it tight while I go get the first aid kit. Don’t move or you will bleed out within minutes,” warned Jack.

Barfoot nodded and clasped the belt, but then his eyes closed and he went limp, letting the belt loosen.

Jack could see that he was still breathing, but did not know how much blood he had lost, or how long he had left to live without proper care. He grabbed the shirt he had ripped off of Pike and wrapped it around Barfoot’s thigh to hold the belt in place, then hurried up to the wheelhouse.

He did not see a first aid kit on the walls, so he rummaged through some cupboards, tossing out charts and a couple of life jackets.

The sound of a thump caught his attention and he looked up as Barfoot staggered through the doorway and raised a speargun to take aim at his chest.

Jack immediately dived through the open doorway leading to the bow and ran around to face the wheelhouse through the glass windows.

Inside, Barfoot staggered forward, still aiming the speargun through the glass as Jack stepped back and forth sideways to make a difficult shot.

Barfoot scowled at him. He only had one shot and did not want to risk wasting it. He had the option of going out on the deck to pursue Jack, but knew in his condition that Jack could then try to run into the wheelhouse through the opposite door.

“Have it your way!” shouted Barfoot, before taking a seat at the helm. He placed the speargun on the dash in front of him and put the engine in gear.

“What are you doing?” asked Jack. “Let me take you to a hospital. There’s a bigger island just north of us, I’m sure they’ll have something.”

“I’m not going to any hospital in Thailand! Hang on for a fast ride, boy. We’re going back to Malaysia.”

“That’s two hours away! You’ll never make it!”

“I’ll tell you something,” snorted Barfoot. “Getting old is not for sissies!”

Moments later, the Malaysian Princess was cutting through the waves at full throttle.

Jack took Pike’s cellphone out of his pocket and Barfoot immediately picked up the speargun.

“Try to use that,” yelled Barfoot, “and I will come out there and put a spear through your gut!”

Jack stood for a moment, staring at Barfoot.

“It’s your call,” said Barfoot. “Do you want to chance it?”

“I’ll make the call after you’re dead,” replied Jack, putting the phone back in his pocket.

After a few minutes, Barfoot leered at Jack through the window and shouted, “So tell me, who the hell are you?”

“I’m a Mountie.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“Well I’ll be goddamned. Didn’t they teach you not to turn your back on a prisoner?” chuckled Barfoot.

“I thought you had passed out.”

“Well, I’ll tell you something. Youth, vitality, and strength are no match for old age, wisdom, and treachery,” cackled Barfoot.

“Don’t preach to me about life. You’re a psychopath. You know nothing about the essence of being human. You pretended to care about people and family, but that was all an act.”

“Damned good act, if you ask me. I sure as hell sucked you in, didn’t I?”

“That you did. I took you as being a lonely old guy.”

“Take a look at this yacht you’re on! Pretty good for a lonely old guy!”

“So what? To bad you didn’t believe in what you preach about family values. Tonight you’ll die a lonely old man on a boat. Some life that is.”

“Yeah? Well I don’t need a nobody like you to tell —”

Barfoot quit talking as Jack backed up to the bow of the boat out of earshot and yawned before looking at his watch, then sitting down and taking off his remaining sock. He tied it around the gash in his own shin, more for something to do, as the bleeding had slowed and only oozed when he moved. When he was finished, he folded his arms across his chest and stared blandly at Barfoot.

Forty-five minutes later, Barfoot was still slumped over the wheel, but he had not moved for over twenty minutes.

Jack stood up and walked to the wheelhouse. When he reached the doorway, he saw Barfoot’s hand inch toward the speargun, so he returned to the bow.

Another forty-five minutes passed and the lights of the island of Langkawi were clearly visible when the Malaysian Princess hit a large swell and Barfoot fell from sight.

Jack crept up to the wheelhouse and jumped inside and grabbed the speargun. He had no reason to hurry. Barfoot was dead, laying on the floor in his own pool of blood.

Jack’s first phone call was to Randy, telling him briefly what had happened and asking him to meet him back at the Royal Langkawi Yacht Club in half an hour.

When Jack glanced at his watch, he realized that it was only eight o’clock in the morning in Vancouver and he decided to call home.

“I love you, Natasha Taggart!” Jack yelled.

Natasha grinned. It was good to hear his voice and know that all was well. “I presume it’s clear to talk,” she said.

“You betcha!”

“Then, I love you too, Jack Taggart. How are you?”

“Great.”

“Good,” replied Natasha. “Where are you?”

“On a yacht approaching an island in Malaysia called Langkawi.”

“On a yacht? Really?”

“Yes, I’m acting captain at the moment. I went out on a cruise with the bad guys today and did some fishing and then went for a swim. After that, we had a bit of a beach party and now I’m heading back to Langkawi.”

“Must be nice,” replied Natasha. “I’m at home cleaning up breakfast dishes.”

“I think it’s one of those things that sounds nicer than it really is.”

“Yeah, I bet,” replied Natasha, sounding skeptical.

“The good news is that the investigation is basically wrapped up.” Jack glanced at Barfoot’s naked body. “Well, one more guy to wrap up, but it’s pretty much finished.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Did it go okay?”

“I think so. I should be home in a couple of days.”

“Good. Speaking of bad guys, Laura came and got the boys yesterday morning for that thing you talked about before you left. She brought them back in the afternoon, but I don’t know if she will need them again or not. She hasn’t called.”

“She called me late last night, your time. It’s over. Put them on and I’ll tell them.”

“Hang on, I’ll hold the phone between the two of them.”

Jack waited a moment, before hearing Mikey say in a serious voice, “Hello. This is Michael speaking.”

This was followed by Steve saying, “Hello, this is Steven speaking.”

“We’re clear to talk, guys.”

“Daddy!” exclaimed Mike. “Did Mommy tell you? Steve and I went with Mrs. Secord yesterday to work undercover.”

“I heard,” replied Jack, sounding excited.

“I lent Miss Secord my Batman picture like you told me,” said Mike.

“And I let her have some of my toys,” said Steve.

“That’s good. Tell me what happened.”

“She taked us to see another lady,” said Steve. “We pretended this other lady is our mommy.”

“That lady’s name is Miss McCormick.”

“Yes,” replied Steve. “Miss McCornynut is a police lady like Mrs. Secord.”

“That’s right.”

“But she’s not my real mommy. I only pretend I love her.” Jack heard Steve turn away from the phone and say, “But I love my real mommy. I was only pretendin’.”

“What happened when you guys were with Miss McCormick?” asked Jack.

“We went to a park to play where a bad guy was,” said Mike. “Then we went to Miss McCormick’s house and the bad guy followed us.”

“Policemen hide in the house, but the bad man stayed outside,” said Steve, sounding disappointed.

“After, Mrs. Secord took us back home,” added Mike, “but Miss McCormick kept my Batman picture.”

“You’ll get your picture and all your toys back real soon.”

“Okay,” they each replied.

“I wanted to tell you that your undercover worked. The bad guy came back to Miss McCormick’s house and the police arrested him.”

“It worked?” squealed Mike.

“It sure did,” replied Jack.

“I help catched a bad guy?” asked Steve.

“You guys sure did. He will go to jail for a very long time. Batman would be really pround of you guys, but not as proud as me.”

“Mommy! We catched the bad guy!” shouted Steve.

“He’s in jail!” added Mike.

Despite standing on a floor slippery with blood, Jack smiled all the way back to the marina.

Chapter Forty-Six

The following Monday, Assistant Commissioner Isaac stood up from his desk and gestured for Inspector Dyck and Staff Sergeant Rose Wood to join him as they all took a seat near the coffee table.

Isaac stared briefly at Rose and said, “I read Corporal Taggart’s report that you gave me Friday afternoon. I told you then that I would need some time to mull it over.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have to tell you, after reading it, I couldn’t stop thinking about it all weekend.”

“Problems, sir?” asked Rose.

“You tell me,” replied Isaac. “Let’s examine it one step at a time, shall we? First, starting in the Golden Triangle where a man is bludgeoned to death with a piece of concrete.”

“Yes, sir, I had brought that immediately to your attention when it happened.”

“I know, but I sincerely hope Corporal Taggart was not trying to be funny by giving him an alias of Killer Rabbit.”

“No, sir,” replied Rose, not wanting to speculate on Jack’s sense of humour. “It is my understanding that was a nickname given to him by someone else.”

“Now that Taggart is back and you have had better opportunity to debrief him, do you think he could have come up with some alternative measure to subdue him?”

“Sir?” questioned Rose.

“A kick to the groin perhaps? Or even turn and run to give the cover team a chance to handle the situation? Something other than killing the man?”

“Sir,” interjected Dyck, “it is my understanding that Corporal Taggart was standing on slippery rocks along a riverbank. The man who unexpectedly attacked him had far superior training in the martial arts, as well as the military. Corporal Taggart had no opportunity to flee and under the circumstances, I think that trying to fight would have resulted in his own death.”

“And what do the Thai police think?” asked Isaac, looking at Rose.

“The LO in Bangkok says the police have absolutely no issues with the matter, or even what happened subsequent to that in southern Thailand,” replied Rose.

“I noticed you included an English copy of the Bangkok Post, alluding to a boating accident where four men were killed following a party on a beach. They attributed a couple of the deaths to the men not wearing life jackets.”

“They might have lived if they had life jackets on,” noted Rose.

“Are you developing Corporal Taggart’s sense of humour, Staff Sergeant?”

“No, sir.”

“And the article went on to say the fourth man, who was rescued by a nearby boat, subsequently died of injuries from having been sliced with the propeller.”

“That is correct, sir,” replied Rose. “Jack outlined it in his report as well.”

Isaac stared incredulously at Rose. “The authorities didn’t happen to care that it was that nearby boat, being driven by Corporal Taggart, that drove over them to start with?”

“The police credit him with saving the lives of the people on another boat, who would have been otherwise murdered,” replied Rose.

“They sound like a pragmatic bunch over there,” observed Dyck.

Isaac frowned. “Maybe it is because they don’t know Corporal Taggart’s history,” he added gruffly. “I do.”

“Sir, I spoke with the LO at length about this,” said Rose. “He indicates that the Thai police did a thorough investigation, both in the Golden Triangle and in regard to the boating incident. Everything corroborates what Corporal Taggart put in his report.”

“You refer to it as a boating incident as though it was an accident,” said Isaac, slowly shaking his head. “Corporal Taggart goes out on a boat with five criminals and is the only one to come back alive. That is quite the incident. At least his report didn’t say that the deaths were only a coincidence to his presence on board.”

“Sir, he did try to save John Barfoot,” said Rose.

“Yes, and under the circumstances it nearly got him killed,” added Dyck. “He obviously risked his life to do what he did.”

“Please, don’t even think about trying to tell me that you think he deserves a commendation,” said Isaac, dryly.

“Well, uh —”

Isaac stopped Dyck with a wave of his hand and said, “It is one thing after another with him. Nothing ever changes. Everyone he should be arresting turns up dead.”

“Sir,” said Rose, “That is not entirely true.”

“Yes, I know, it was Barfoot’s own stubbornness that got him killed, but he wouldn’t have died if Corporal Taggart hadn’t run him down.”

“I’m not referring to him, sir. I’m talking about Virgil Cruickshank. A serial rapist that Taggart was responsible for having arrested and brought in … alive.”

“What are you trying to do? Give me hope?” said Isaac sarcastically. “Probably a lucky coincidence for Virgil Cruickshank that Corporal Taggart was out of the country at the time.”

“Sir, you know Corporal Taggart,” said Rose. “Do you really believe in coincidences with him?”

Isaac stared at Rose but did not reply.

“It wouldn’t have changed the outcome if he was here,” said Dyck. “He informed me of his plan before he left. Everything went according to his plan. At the moment, I’ve heard defence is already offering to plead Virgil guilty for seven years, but Crown is holding out for thirteen. I expect they’ll meet in the middle and settle on ten.”

“Tell him the best part,” said Rose.

“Yes,” replied Dyck. “Since Corporal Taggart returned, he has managed to pull in a few favours south of the border. Two of Virgil Cruickshank’s drug-smuggling cronies arrested in the U.S. have now been offered reduced sentences in exchange for testimony against him. That, coupled with evidence up here that puts him at the drug drop-off location at the border, has prompted the U.S. to seek his extradition once he completes his sentence up here.”

“Virgil doesn’t know it yet,” said Rose, “but it is expected he will receive about ten years in jail here for the sexual assaults and then be shipped to the U.S., where they say he will be looking at a minimum of twenty years for the drug importation.”

“Thanks to Corporal Taggart, he’ll basically be eligible for old age security by the time he is released,” said Dyck, smugly. “Far from casting suspicions on the man’s performance, I think he should be applauded.”

Isaac eyed Dyck for a moment. “When we first met, I was under the impression that you did not care for Corporal Taggart. Now it would appear that you are trying to protect him.”

“I’m not protecting him,” said Dyck. “Quite frankly I don’t think he has done anything wrong to need protection. The man is a dedicated member of our team. He even allowed us to use his two- and three-year-old sons as part of the undercover scenario.”

“He what?”

“Corporal Taggart has two sons,” said Rose. “Two-year-old Stevey and three-year-old Mikey. They were used to make it look like Constable McCormick was a single mom. It fit in with Virgil Cruickshank’s MO.”

“He put his own children in an undercover scenario at that age!” exclaimed Isaac.

“After ensuring they would be perfectly safe,” said Dyck. “The Emergency Response team had everything well covered, both at the park and in the apartment. His children were never in any danger. Constable McCormick even commented about how bright they were and said they were naturals at ad-libbing their parts.”

“She said they were more comfortable in their role than she was,” smiled Rose.

Why doesn’t that surprise me? thought Isaac. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, before staring quietly at Rose and Dyck for a moment. “Okay, that answers my questions. I won’t take further issue with what we have discussed. You may go.”

After they left, Isaac sat down at his desk.

He already has his two- and three-year-old sons working undercover? Isaac shook his head. God help the poor son of a bitch in my shoes if those kids ever join the force …

Copyright © Don Easton, 2013

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Table of Contents

Cover

Loose Ends

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve

chapter thirteen

chapter fourteen

chapter fifteen

chapter sixteen

chapter seventeen

chapter eighteen

chapter nineteen

chapter twenty

chapter twenty-one

chapter twenty-two

chapter twenty-three

chapter twenty-four

chapter twenty-five

chapter twenty-six

chapter twenty-seven

chapter twenty-eight

chapter twenty-nine

chapter thirty

chapter thirty-one

chapter thirty-two

chapter thirty-three

chapter thirty-four

chapter thirty-five

chapter thirty-six

chapter thirty-seven

chapter thirty-eight

chapter thirty-nine

chapter forty

chapter forty-one

chapter forty-two

Above Ground

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve

chapter thirteen

chapter fourteen

chapter fifteen

chapter sixteen

chapter seventeen

chapter eighteen

chapter nineteen

chapter twenty

chapter twenty-one

chapter twenty-two

chapter twenty-three

chapter twenty-four

chapter twenty-five

chapter twenty-six

chapter twenty-seven

chapter twenty-eight

chapter twenty-nine

chapter thirty

chapter thirty-one

chapter thirty-two

chapter thirty-three

chapter thirty-four

chapter thirty-five

chapter thirty-six

chapter thirty-seven

chapter thirty-eight

chapter thirty-nine

chapter forty

epilogue

Angel in the Full Moon

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve

chapter thirteen

chapter fourteen

chapter fifteen

chapter sixteen

chapter seventeen

chapter eighteen

chapter nineteen

chapter twenty

chapter twenty-one

chapter twenty-two

chapter twenty-three

chapter twenty-four

chapter twenty-five

chapter twenty-six

chapter twenty-seven

chapter twenty-eight

chapter twenty-nine

chapter thirty

chapter thirty-one

chapter thirty-two

chapter thirty-three

chapter thirty-four

chapter thirty-five

chapter thirty-six

chapter thirty-seven

chapter thirty-eight

chapter thirty-nine

chapter forty

chapter forty-one

epilogue

Samurai Code

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

Epilogue

Dead Ends

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Epilogue

Birds of a Feather

chapter one

chapter two

chapter three

chapter four

chapter five

chapter six

chapter seven

chapter eight

chapter nine

chapter ten

chapter eleven

chapter twelve

chapter thirteen

chapter fourteen

chapter fifteen

chapter sixteen

chapter seventeen

chapter eighteen

chapter nineteen

chapter twenty

chapter twenty-one

chapter twenty-two

chapter twenty-three

chapter twenty-four

chapter twenty-five

chapter twenty-six

chapter twenty-seven

chapter twenty-eight

chapter twenty-nine

chapter thirty

chapter thirty-one

chapter thirty-two

chapter thirty-three

chapter thirty-four

chapter thirty-five

chapter thirty-six

chapter thirty-seven

chapter thirty-eight

chapter thirty-nine

chapter forty

chapter forty-one

chapter forty-two

chapter forty-three

chapter forty-four

chapter forty-five

chapter forty-six

chapter forty-seven

chapter forty-eight

chapter forty-nine

epilogue

Corporate Asset

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Chapter Forty-Two

Chapter Forty-Three

Chapter Forty-Four

Chapter Forty-Five

Chapter Forty-Six

Copyright