by Don Easton
* * *
Roche heard the click as Jack hung up, but stared at his phone in a daze as a feeling of impending doom entered his brain. Moments later he clutched his boarding pass and nodded to the flight attendant as she directed him to his seat.
Chapter Seventeen
Jack had Sammy and Benny blindfold and gag Anton and Bojan again, then drag them to the back room, out of sight of anyone entering the main area of the shop.
“That’s good,” said Jack, when Anton and Bojan were done with. “Dispose of the package in the van, but then return in case I decide to give you two more packages.”
Anton and Bojan had both been wriggling in an attempt to get comfortable, but stopped instantly. As Sammy and Benny strode off, Jack turned to Laura. “I’m going to take a look around. Kill them if they make any noise or try to move.”
“Not a problem,” Laura replied.
Jack then went to the front of the shop to speak with Sammy and Benny. “Stay here in case Klaus shows up,” he said as Sammy passed him the keys to the van. “I hope to be back before noon, but it might take longer. You know what the brass are like. I’m sure they’ll want to rehash every detail and ask a bunch of questions.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they’ll have lots of questions for you.” Sammy shook his head. “Hopefully they don’t start by reading you the charter of rights.”
Jack eyed Sammy, then said, “What? You doubt my sincerity when I told you I had permission?”
Sammy smirked. “Don’t think I should answer that one.”
Jack gave Sammy the keys to Dempsey’s car. “These are for the car outside. I’ve put what I am sure is a valuable painting in the trunk. Hang on to it.”
Moments later, Jack drove away in the van and called Rose. “You about to meet Isaac?” he asked.
“He’s in another meeting. I’m scheduled for nine-thirty.”
“Perfect. I’m on my way to I-HIT with a package for them. I spoke to Roche and he asked for more time so he could talk to someone. I’m betting it’s the Ringmaster.”
“I spoke with Paris. They didn’t get the paperwork through in time to trace the call back to wherever he is.”
“No worries. The next call isn’t until one o’clock. Hopefully they’ll have their ducks in a row by then.”
* * *
It was 9:45 a.m. when Jack arrived at the I-HIT office. Moments later, Inspector Dyck waved him in with a friendly smile. “Take a seat. What can I do for you?” he asked.
“Have you received a call from Assistant Commissioner Isaac today?”
“No.” Dyck looked puzzled.
“You will,” Jack said.
“In regards to what?”
“In regards to a body I’ve got in the back of a van out in your parking lot.”
“Yeah, right.” Dyck shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m short of time. What is it you’d like?”
“For you to take me seriously,” Jack replied sombrely. “Let me explain what happened. I’ll start by telling you that a policeman was murdered last night for trying to save my life.”
Insp. Dyck realized by the haggard look on Jack’s face and his tone of voice that he wasn’t joking. “My God, I haven’t even heard about it.”
“Few people know.”
“So you really do have a body in a van outside?” Dyck said.
“Yes.”
“Is it the person who killed the officer?”
“I wish. The killer got away and is unidentified. I am doing a UC at the moment to identify him. The body in the van is another victim — he was a dope dealer.” Jack glanced at his watch. “I need to be out of here within half an hour to avoid complications. Perhaps I could give you the keys to the van so you could have someone take a look while I explain the situation.”
The inspector leaned back in his chair, his mind no doubt reeling at what he was told.
Jack held the keys up. “The bad guys have never had any contact with the van, so it’s only the body you need to be concerned with. I’ve got it wrapped in plastic.”
“I’m not touching them,” Dyck said, jerking his hands back. “How about you give them to Corporal Crane? She’s worked with you before.”
“Yeah, Connie will like this one,” Jack said dryly.
“Was the officer one of ours?” Dyck asked as he phoned for Connie Crane to come to his office.
“No. It was a French police officer who was murdered while trying to warn me that I was about to be murdered. It’s a little complicated. I’ll start at the beginning.”
Jack started to explain when Connie arrived, so he held the keys out to her and said, “Brought you an easy one to do. Take a look in the back of the green surveillance van parked in visitors’ parking.”
“An easy what?” Connie asked.
“A murder. The evidence is wrapped in plastic in the back, but it’d be better if you saw it with your own eyes.”
She threw Jack a questioning look.
“I’m short on time,” he explained, “and I don’t want to start from the beginning again.”
Connie looked at Dyck for help. But the inspector simply gestured with his hand for her to take the keys, then addressed Jack. “So you were in a hotel room with a hooker and three bad guys. You were pretending to be a pimp and one of them volunteered to take you to get some cocaine so you wouldn’t kill them. Then what happened?”
Connie rolled her eyes, snatched the keys from Jack’s hand, and muttered to herself as she left the office.
Jack had barely finished what he was willing to share with Inspector Dyck when Connie burst back into the office.
“Jesus H. Christ! You won’t believe this! He’s got a body in the back of the van — some guy shot in the head!”
Dyck’s eyes remained focused on Jack.
“That’s the situation.” Jack nodded as he stared back. “I expect you’ll be getting a call from Isaac soon.”
“You haven’t told me where this acreage is,” Dyck said.
“First, I was hoping to have everyone’s support, so as not to jeopardize my UC. As I said, I’ve taken photos of the crime scene and the person who did it, including his passport.”
“Who you’re doing an undercover scenario with to find out who this Ringmaster is.”
“Basically, yes.”
“Was he married?”
“Sir?”
“The policeman who was murdered.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Connie put in. “The guy is one of us?”
Jack glanced at her. “Not the one in the van. That’s another murder in relation to the policeman’s murder.”
“Another murder?” Connie mumbled.
Jack nodded. “I almost forgot to tell you. The murder weapon for the guy in the van was a .32 Beretta. I put it under the front seat. His wallet and identification is still in his pocket. Inspector Dyck can fill you in after I leave.”
“After you leave?” Connie looked outraged. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Jack ignored her, looked at Dyck, and replied, “Yes, he was married. No children, but his wife is due next month. Rose is meeting with Isaac right now and telling him what happened.”
Dyck nodded. “I don’t know what Isaac will say, but you have my support for the time being. What can we do to help?”
“At the moment, all I need is a car. I need to get going.”
“You can take one from our unit.”
“Thank you, sir.”
As Jack left, he overheard Connie exclaim, “Sir? Did you hear what I said? He brought a body to our office. He can’t take off! We need details. It’s not like he popped in and dropped off a pizza, for Christ’s sake! What’s going on?”
Jack headed for the parking lot. What’s going on is we have a cop killer to catch, and I want to be the first one to get my hands on him.
Chapter Eighteen
Jack was pulling away from the I-HIT office when Rose called. “Had my meeting with Isaac,” she said
, sounding matter-of-fact.
“And how did our dear assistant commissioner take it?”
“He isn’t happy with your method of handling a crime scene.”
“Is he is trying to put the kybosh on this?”
“No, but he’s perceptive enough to know that you delivered Dempsey to circumvent any negative response to your plan. He made it clear that what you did should have been his decision.”
“So he’s upset with me,” Jack said. No surprise.
“No, with me. I told him I authorized you to do it.”
“You didn’t need to stick your neck out for me.”
“What you do is ultimately my responsibility,” Rose said. “He made it clear that you better get results to compensate.”
“I just left I-HIT. Inspector Dyck is being supportive.”
“Good. I’m sure Isaac is on the phone to him. Are you on your way back to the acreage?”
“Yes. Do you have anything on Klaus or Bojan?”
“The French don’t know them, and as far as Anton goes, they knew he was Roche’s brother, but up until today they thought he was a cabinetmaker and not involved.”
“I would say he’s involved,” Jack replied. “He was the one who shot Dempsey. There’s furniture being built in a workshop at the place. Bet that’s how they planned to smuggle their goods. Anything else?”
“I don’t have anything on the jewellery yet, but I hit pay dirt on the painting. It was stolen during a home invasion in Burnaby less than a month ago.”
“How’d you find that out so fast?”
“By staying on top of things. Did you know we have a national art crime enforcement unit?”
“No.”
“It was formed by the Sureté du Québec, who work in collaboration with two of our members. I sent them the photo you took and they responded immediately. Providing it isn’t a copy of the one stolen, it was appraised recently by a professional art authentication agency in Vancouver. It was painted in the early seventeen hundreds by a famous artist and is considered priceless.”
“Perfect. Peaks and valleys. Looks like we hit a peak.”
“I haven’t spoken with the investigator out of Burnaby yet, but I’ll call her when I hang up. I was told the painting is basically an undiscovered piece of work, as far as the art world goes, but the clown in it is well-known and has been portrayed by several artists. It’ll have to be authenticated to confirm it’s the original.”
“Is it more valuable than thirty-two keys of coke and all the jewellery?”
“They told me that a recently discovered painting by the same artist sold for fifteen million Euros.”
Jack blew out a breath. “You’ve got to be kidding. That’s about twenty million in our money. Who’s the artist?”
“How much do you know about art?” Rose asked.
“Not much. When I was a kid, I used to eat my crayons, instead of drawing with them. My colourful creations were all flushed down the toilet.”
“Ever hear of Jean-Antoine Watteau?”
“No.”
“If you hadn’t eaten your crayons when you were a kid, you probably would’ve. The guy’s right up there with Rembrandt and Van Gogh.”
“Okay, I’ve heard of those guys and I get the picture, but I’m short on time. Give me the nutshell version. Maybe I can use it as part of my UC.”
“The painting you have is known as The Sad Clown. It depicts a clown called Pierrot, which was the stage name for a clown performing in a seventeenth-century Italian troupe of actors. In the play, Pierrot had his heart broken by a woman who left him for another.”
“Earlier you said the Ringmaster was behind the murder of an art collector in Paris and kept some of the paintings for his own gallery. How many people collect expensive paintings? There must be some way of coming up with a suspect or at least someone who bought some of the stolen paintings.”
“There are many unscrupulous art collectors whose fanatical desire to own a certain piece of art far outweighs any sense of morality. These people don’t advertise who they are.”
“I’d like to assemble an art piece myself,” Jack said, “by emulating Picasso and using the Ringmaster’s body parts.”
“Jack, I know how you feel, but —”
“Perhaps you can imagine it —” Jack’s tone was harsh “— but you don’t really know how I feel, so don’t say that. A husband and soon-to-be father died trying to save my life tonight. Unless you’ve had that experience, you don’t —”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
Jack breathed deeply, until he felt calmer. “This painting may be my way to get in.”
“You can buy Pierrot prints online really cheap, but none like the one you have. I would still like to have it validated. Can you get it to me?”
“I’ll text Sammy Crofton and have him bring it to you within the hour.”
“You’ve got him involved?”
“Him and Benny Saunders, also from Drug Section. I needed someone I could trust until things were approved.”
“I take it I’m not in that category,” Rose sniffed.
“Actually, you are. I simply didn’t want you sticking your neck out.”
“Thanks, but that’s why I get paid the big bucks,” she said. “I’ll line up a member from Burnaby to take it from Sammy so that Sammy can hustle back to help you when Klaus arrives. Speaking of which, you can’t hold these guys forever.”
“I know. My next chat with Roche is crucial. He’s already curious about me, but I need to bait the hook to gain his trust — or at least ensure he maintains contact with me.”
“And how will you do that? Or dare I ask?”
“I’m still formulating a plan.”
“In other words, I should … hang on. I’m being told that Klaus is about to leave the hospital and was overheard telling Liam that he would drop him off at home.
“Good,” Jack said. “Tell Special ‘O’ to break off.”
“So they don’t follow him to where you are? I told you, Isaac has approved it.”
“No, because these guys may know enough to do proper heat checks. Special ‘O’ are good, but even they’ve been burnt on occasion. I found out that these guys hired a private investigation firm to check out some of the guys working for them.”
“Holy smoke.”
“Exactly. The firm is called Big Joe Investigations. I’d like you to make discreet inquiries to see what they’re about. In the mean time, if Klaus detects surveillance, my UC will be blown out of the water. I’ve strung them along by thinking I had Sammy and Benny dispose of Dempsey’s body, but coming up with a surveillance team this quickly on Klaus is pushing it too far. It could scare them away permanently.”
“If I pull ‘O’ off, we may not know where Liam lives. Are you sure?”
“Positive. Liam is bottom end and not worth worrying about. As far as Klaus goes, I’ll be there to welcome him home. He’ll be another poker chip to raise the ante.”
Rose was silent and Jack sensed she was troubled. “Something wrong?” he asked.
“I know you hate Klaus for what he did to your informant.”
“He’s a sadistic animal,” Jack said.
“Yes, but …”
“But what?” He knew he sounded sarcastic.
“From the medical attention Klaus needed at the hospital, which I’m told resulted in a plate screwed into his jaw over a fracture and will include implants, root canals, new crowns and —”
“So much for doctor-patient confidentiality,” Jack muttered. “Hope your inquiries don’t get back to Klaus.”
“A Special ‘O’ member’s wife is a nurse there. Don’t you, of all people, give me any crap about privacy concerns. I was also told that he needed stitches to his lip and will only be able to swallow puréed foods through a straw for the next while.”
“You know, now that you mention it, I thought he had bad teeth.” Jack was being deliberately obtuse. “I seem to recall telling him he shoul
d get them checked. I thought I’d mentioned that to you.”
Rose wasn’t amused. “You know what I’m saying,” she warned.
“Okay … I hear you. Don’t worry. My emotions are in check. I’ll point a shotgun at his face and scare him into submission.”
“Call me once you have him under control so I don’t need to worry.”
“Don’t worry. Besides Laura, I have two narcs helping me. Klaus shouldn’t be expecting anything.”
“It isn’t you I’m worried about, it’s Klaus.”
“I promise I’ll be gentle and tie him up alongside his buddies.”
“Good. Also, how long did you plan to detain these guys? If it ever comes out —”
“We’re allowed to arrest someone and detain them for twenty-four hours without charge.”
“Arrest?”
“Yeah, so I haven’t had time to inform them of their rights and bring them in yet.”
“Which you have no intention of doing,” Rose stated flatly.
“The situation may be rectified when Roche calls me back at one o’clock.”
“There can’t be any may about it. I want them freed by then. You don’t know where it’ll end up. Down the road some defence lawyer is liable to charge you with kidnapping and assault.”
“Okay, okay, damn it,” said Jack in frustration. “I’ll let them go as soon as I’m done talking to Roche. I need him to get to the Ringmaster. I’ll also text you permission to record my conversation, as well as the phone numbers for the remaining phones I found.”
“That’s nice to hear. How will you try to ingratiate yourself with them?”
“I think I’ve caught their attention with what has happened.”
“That is an understatement,” said Rose dryly. “You’ve caught everyone else’s attention, too.”
“I need to portray myself as having similar characteristics to the Ringmaster.”
“Tough to do when we don’t know anything about him.”
“I know he’s professional enough to hire a private investigator to check people out. I also know he collects art, may be retiring soon, travels extensively, and is not a drug dealer. Like I said before, I’ll have to wing it, but I have enough to point me in the right direction.”
