by Don Easton
“And do you have a title?” Kerin asked.
“Actually, I do,” Roche replied. “I’m known as the juggler, or sometimes the French juggler. I’m responsible for recruiting people to do the dirty work, as well as looking after the distribution of the goods in France. Sometimes I need to store them until it is safe, while other times the situation calls for a speedier distribution.”
“Hence the juggling act,” Kerin said. “Are there many jugglers in your, uh, company?”
“It varies. At the moment, there are five of us, counting my brother.”
“Anton is a juggler?” Kerin was surprised. “You once mentioned he was a cabinetmaker.”
“You’ve got a good memory,” Roche noted. “Yes, it is a recent development that he was brought into the fold.”
“I see.”
“Keep what I told you in confidence,” warned Roche. “The Ringmaster and the jugglers meet once a year to go over what we have done and see what we can do to help each other. That meeting should be happening soon. If you are accepted, you will meet the others then.”
Kerin smiled. That is an opportunity I don’t want to miss.
Despite Roche’s apparent trust, Kerin was still subjected to an electronic search for hidden transmitters once in a while. Roche would apologize each time and say he was simply following procedure. As a result, Kerin never wore a transmitter, but meticulously made notes of all his conversations with Roche immediately afterwards.
Recently Roche had mentioned that the Ringmaster’s birthday was coming up, so Kerin gave him a gold watch to pass along, acting like it was a trivial item. The truth was, the cost of the watch had cut a big hole in the investigative funds allotted.
The watch had a dual purpose. Besides gaining the favour of the Ringmaster, the watchband had a unique pattern of gold and silver. Unique enough, Kerin had convinced his bosses, that the man wearing it might be spotted and thus identified.
Unfortunately subsequent surveillance of Roche did not identify anyone wearing the watch, but today Kerin had a chance to please his disgruntled bosses back at headquarters.
A week ago Roche said he thought he might be garnering police attention. Kerin expressed concern, knowing full well that surveillance teams were targeting Roche. Fortunately it had an unexpected benefit. Roche blamed the police attention on the informant, who had allied himself to the gang and had been murdered prior to Kerin’s arrival. He then asked Kerin if he would be interested in temporarily replacing him as a safety precaution and suggested Kerin might be able to use his own connections to move stolen goods.
Kerin could barely contain the exhilaration he felt. He remained silent.
“I have heard that many stolen cars from Europe or North America end up in Arab countries,” Roche said. “Is that true?”
“My best clients happen to be Arab,” Kerin replied.
“Those are countries where we would like to expand. Are you willing to help?”
Kerin hesitated, pretending to consider the offer.
“I can assure you that you will be well paid,” Roche said.
“Well paid?”
“Contingent upon your meeting with the Ringmaster for final approval.”
“I see.”
“Are you interested?” Roche prodded him.
“Yes, it sounds like it could be beneficial.”
Kerin was told that he would only meet the Ringmaster face to face once. After that, all communication would be made through Roche. Subsequent arrangements were made for Roche to meet Kerin today at a café, where he’d introduce the Ringmaster.
It was deemed unlikely that the Ringmaster would say anything to Kerin about the murders during the meeting, but identifying the Ringmaster would be a big step forward in the investigation. Once that was done, physical and electronic surveillance could be utilized, along with whatever other police investigative means were needed.
* * *
Kerin was pleased when he saw Roche parking his black Peugeot in front of the café, and a moment later greeted him when he walked inside. Roche declined to sit down and told Kerin that they would walk to another location to meet the Ringmaster.
A half-hour stroll later, they came to a park. During the stroll, Kerin had caught the occasional glimpse of his long-time partner, Maurice Leblanc, who followed on the sidewalk across the street.
Maurice was a tall, slender man with a black Fu Manchu moustache that grew to the bottom of his jaw. Kerin grinned to himself when he imagined that moustache twitching as it always did when Maurice was worried. It’s okay, Maurice, the meeting is still on.
Kerin caught the odd glimpse of other colleagues. They had divided up their eight-person surveillance team, leaving drivers in four cars while the others followed on foot. Two of the team members who’d been in the café switched back to their cars.
Once at the park, Roche received a call. After hanging up, he said, “The Ringmaster is coming, but is nervous about meeting you. I need you to answer a question.”
Kerin frowned. “What?”
“We can walk around the park as we talk,” Roche suggested.
Kerin fell in step with Roche. and waited for him to speak. Finally, Roche asked, “Where do you come up with your stolen property?”
Kerin stopped and faced Roche. “Jesus! You’re asking me about that again? I told you about one of the heists in advance!” In reality, the heist was not genuine but a ruse to gain Roche’s trust. A co-operative jeweller had agreed to say he was robbed and the police had released a fake news release.
Roche gave a sympathetic smile. “Do not be angry with me, my friend. I trust you completely — otherwise you would not be here. That was simply a question I was told to put to you. The Ringmaster will be along shortly. Please be patient.”
Kerin nodded, unaware that the Ringmaster was already watching with binoculars. Every look and gesture Kerin made was being closely scrutinized.
Chapter Three
In the hotel room in Vancouver, Brandy sat up after Klaus had flung her onto the bed. She did her best to smile at Liam. “You know, seeing as it is your stag, maybe I could help you fulfill your fantasy of having three girls at once.”
Liam looked up from a Scotch he was pouring. “Really?”
“I know two other girls. They’re really pretty … classy-looking. What d’you say I give them a call and get this party really rocking?”
Liam looked at Klaus and Clive. “That’s a great idea!”
Klaus was skeptical. “Why are you offering to do this?” he asked. “What is it you really —”
“You guys have worn me out,” Brandy said. “Two extra girls will give me a break and it will be better for everyone.” She shrugged. “If you don’t like the looks of them, you don’t have to let ’em in.”
Klaus looked at Brandy suspiciously. “I’m not sure if —”
“Yeah, yeah,” Brandy continued. “It will cost a little more, but I’m sure cash or blow isn’t a problem for you guys.” She gave a nod toward Liam. “Let’s make his night really special.” It’s not like you plan on paying, anyway.
“Yeah, Klausie,” Liam slurred. “Like she says, it’s my night. Come on, it’ll be a blast!”
Klaus thought for a moment, then bent over so he was nose to nose with Brandy. “Okay, give them a call … but if things don’t turn out good, I’ll break your fucking neck and haul you out in a suitcase. You got that?”
I believe you. I’ve seen Pulp Fiction like ten times. I know people do stuff —
“I said you got that?” Klaus demanded again.
Brandy nodded, then went and picked up her purse. When she found the slip of paper, Klaus grabbed it from her and looked at the number, then used her phone and dialled it himself.
Brandy swallowed nervously. “Ask for Jackie.”
She was relieved when Klaus handed her the phone and said, “It’s ringing. You talk to her.”
She did her best to give Klaus a reassuring smile as she sat in a chair an
d held the phone tight to her ear.
* * *
It was one-thirty in the morning when Corporal Jack Taggart grabbed the phone on the bedside table before it started the second ring. It was a common occurrence and he reacted quickly, hoping not to disturb his wife. It did, but Natasha was used to the calls and started to doze off again.
Jack was an undercover police operative who worked on an intelligence unit with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police in Vancouver. Along with his partner, Constable Laura Secord, they were like a constant open sore on the side of established organized crime families. For crime families that were not as well established, the sore was often fatal.
Undercover operations were only one of the tools they used in their battle against organized crime. Wiretaps were also used, but their most important tool was informants. To protect their own identities and those of their informants, undercover operators on the intelligence unit seldom went to court. It was up to their discretion if what they learned would be turned over to other units to further the investigation for court purposes.
Jack had an exceptional ability to gain the trust of informants. It was a trust that was well deserved. He protected his informants like a mother bear with her cubs.
“Jackie, it … it’s me … Brandy.”
Jackie? Jack heard the strain in her voice and knew she was in trouble. “I told you not to call me direct when you want to speak to Jackie,” Jack said, while turning on the bedside light and prodding Natasha with his foot. “Besides, I hate phones. You never know who could be listening.” He got ready to hand the phone to Natasha if need be.
Natasha sat up in bed. She was still groggy, but from the concern on Jack’s face, she knew something was amiss. “I’m Jackie?” she whispered.
Jack put his finger to his lips for her to be quiet. “You hear what I’m sayin’ about the listenin’ bit?”
“You’re okay,” replied Brandy, “which is why I called to let you in on a good thing. I’m in a room at the Emerald Hotel. Top floor, corner … uh …” She hesitated. “Room 1201. Got three guys looking to party.” She then lowered her voice as if speaking in confidence and said, “These guys are loaded. Think you and Laura would like in on it?”
“Three guys…. Do they have guns?” Jack asked.
“I don’t think so … but …”
Jack heard her panting for breath and knew she was starting to hyperventilate. “Are you in immediate danger?” he asked.
“Not immediately … but soon,” Brandy replied, as if repeating someone else’s words. “You should get here as soon as possible. Like within the hour.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me about these guys?” Jack asked. “Say yes when I hit it right. Are they —”
“I think I told you about him … he’s really rich. You said I had all the luck and you wished you could meet him.”
“You’re with Clive?”
“Yes … but you need to meet him. He’s really good-looking. So’s his friend. Not a fat guy, either. He works out.”
“Klaus is there too?”
“You bet. These guys are real gentlemen and will treat you good.”
“We’re on our way. Forty-five minutes tops.”
* * *
Brandy hung up and glanced at Clive as he turned up the music on the radio. Liam lay on his back on the bed and gestured with his finger for her to come to him. When she stood up, he pulled his penis back to expose his scrotum.
“While we’re waiting, give my boys a good licking, will you, darlin’.”
Brandy nodded nervously, then got on her knees between his legs and complied with his request, unaware that Klaus was twirling a pillowcase behind her to use as a gag so that further, more painful acts could be performed without her screams being heard.
Chapter Four
“Who’s Jackie?” Natasha asked as soon as Jack hung up.
“Me.” Jack pushed the speed dial to call Laura.
“Then who was I supposed to be?”
“A hooker.”
“Kick me like that again,” Natasha said, “and I might start charging you. Can I go back to sleep now?”
Jack nodded and turned his attention to the phone when Laura answered. His instructions were brief and terse.
“Got it,” said Laura. “You’ll be here in what … twenty-five minutes?”
“Fifteen,” Jack replied and hung up. As he reached for his clothes, his brain nagged him about what Brandy had gotten herself into. Or more like what I got her into.
He shoved his Smith and Wesson 9mm pistol into his belt at the back of his pants, then hesitated before going to the closet to retrieve an issue twelve-gauge Bushmaster shotgun with a metal folding stock and pistol grip. It could be held under his jacket without being seen.
He heard Natasha suck in a mouthful of air. “Trouble?” she asked.
“Not for me. The guys I’m about to meet won’t be happy.”
Natasha exhaled and nodded knowingly. “Remember I love you. Same goes for Mike and Steve.”
* * *
Laura was waiting at the curb and climbed in when Jack pulled up in a black SUV. “I’ll put my makeup on as you drive,” she said, “but how do I look?”
Jack glanced at her quickly.
“You said to look like a high-class hooker,” Laura continued, “if there is such a thing.”
“You look perfect. More than I could afford.”
Laura smiled. “You got that right.”
Jack’s moment of humour didn’t last. His face darkened and he stepped on the gas, causing the tires to squeal when he pulled away from the curb.
“Watch it, will ya?” Laura said. “I have to live in this neighbourhood.”
“You didn’t hear her voice,” Jack said. “She’s really scared.”
“Three of them, you say? But no guns?”
“No guns that she saw. Clive and Klaus are there for sure. Some other guy, too, but I didn’t get a name.”
“Fill me in a bit. If we burst in there, aren’t you worried about burning her?”
“No. That’s why you’re a hooker tonight.”
“I thought that was just to get them to open the door. What happens then?” She glanced at Jack and realized what he was going to do. “Oh, man,” she muttered. “You’re going to pretend to be her pimp.”
“You got a better idea?”
“No, but a real pimp would probably mess them up.”
“Probably,” Jack agreed.
“We’re cops, remember?”
“I remember.” Jack glanced at her. “Don’t worry. I brought the shotgun. If I stick that in their faces it’ll scare them enough.”
“So we go in. You wave the gun to scare them, then we collect Brandy and leave. Right?”
“You got it. It’ll be a cakewalk.”
I’ve heard that one before, Laura thought.
Jack drove in silence for a few minutes and tried to imagine what was going on in the hotel. “Damn it, whatever they’re doing to her is my fault,” he said bitterly as he swung into an oncoming lane to pass a car. “She told me Clive was becoming nastier and said she didn’t want to go with him anymore. It was because of me that —”
“This isn’t her first time with him,” Laura said, no doubt hoping to ease his guilt.
“And what’s this business with three guys?” Jack muttered. “I didn’t think she was into that type of action.” He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. “Bet she’s doing it because of me.”
“Maybe it’s a money issue,” Laura suggested. “I hope she isn’t calling us over that. Can’t say as I want to be charged with pimping.”
“I’m sure that’s not it. She was so scared she was starting to hyperventilate.”
Jack thought about the reason he’d pushed Brandy into the situation. Is Clive worth it? He went over what he knew. Another informant had told him that Brandy had bragged to her about receiving ounces of cocaine from Clive in lieu of payment for sexual favours. Brandy
had said that Clive was a big player who provided his smugglers with fake passports. It was the passports that caught Jack’s attention. If a drug dealer had access to those, perhaps some terrorist could also get access to them. He later identified a known cocaine importer by the name of Clive Dempsey, and when Brandy became his informant, she confirmed that it was the Clive she knew.
Jack ignored a red light and the angry blast of a horn as he stepped on the gas. A moment later he pulled into the hotel parking lot. Forty minutes had passed since Brandy called him. He glanced up at the top floor of the hotel, wondering what awaited them, then gave a nod to Laura and they both thought the same thing.
It’s showtime.
Chapter Five
In room 1201 at the Emerald Hotel, Brandy closed her eyes and tried to project her mind outside of the nightmare she was in. She was straddling Liam, who now sat naked on the chair under her. He was covered in sweat and grunting like a pig, but was apparently too tired to thrust his buttocks upward, relying on her to pump up and down on his penis.
“He keeps slipping out. Clamp him tighter,” Klaus ordered as he stood behind her. Searing pain on her rear caused her to cry out, but her voice was muffled with the gag.
She heard Klaus suck on the cigarette. She tensed her buttocks and bit the gag in anticipation of more pain to come, but a knock on the door caused the men to stop and look at each other.
“Fresh meat,” Liam said with a smirk.
Clive, who had been sitting in another chair watching, was the only one wearing a hotel robe. He plodded to the door and looked out the peephole.
An attractive woman with auburn hair smiled at him from the hallway. She was wearing feathered earrings and had on the perfect amount of makeup to make her look sexy without looking trashy. She slowly unzipped her raincoat to reveal a red silk blouse unbuttoned enough to expose plenty of cleavage that was barely constrained in a black lacy push-up bra. “I’m Laura,” she said sweetly. “I was invited to a party here.”
