by Don Easton
“You could probably wait and do your statement tomorrow morning,” Rose suggested.
Jack shook his head. “It’s not like I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”
* * *
“Yes, hello,” Otto answered in perfect English.
“Detective Otto Reichartinger,” Jack said, “this is Bart from the Outback Bar in Lamai, Koh Samui, Thailand, calling. You left without paying for your last bottle of Victoria Bitter.”
Otto grinned. “I apologize. Some Canadian I was drinking with said he would buy it for me after I paid for the previous round. You know how cheap they are. He must have skipped out without paying.”
“Must’ve,” Jack said.
“Who are you really?” asked Otto seriously.
“Jack Taggart. My partner, Laura Secord, and I are both undercover operatives with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. We were on assignment and met you at Bill Resort in Koh Samui a couple of years ago.”
“Ah, so it was you!” Otto laughed.
“We never told you who we really were, but spent a bit of time partying with you and some Norwegians.”
“Terje, Inger Siri, Eirik, and Trine,” said Otto. “They are good friends of mine. Oh, yes, I remember the two of you. So Laura wasn’t really your girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Fine time to tell me.” Otto pretended to be angry. “You knew I was single.”
“She’s married,” Jack said. “So am I.”
“Too bad!” Otto exclaimed.
“About her or me?”
Otto chuckled. “With you I don’t care.”
After a bit more reminiscing, Jack explained everything that had happened since his informant had called him.
Otto then updated Jack on his surveillance of Roche Freulard, Wolfgang Menges, and the unidentified man with the swarthy complexion. “By his looks, I would say he’s either a Spaniard or an Italian.” Otto paused. “I’m sorry I lost him.”
“It happens. Better than burning the surveillance. I’m really happy you found out as much as you did.”
“There is something else.” Otto told Jack about seeing Nine-finger Joe.
“Sounds like I put you into a nest of some very nasty people,” Jack replied. “Do you think the two bad guys who passed you on the sidewalk and mentioned never having been to Canada were planning on coming here?”
“I couldn’t tell from the little I heard. They could have been talking about someone else, or perhaps the others who were at the café.”
“Would you recognize all these men if you were to see them again?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll put in a request for you to come to Canada. Considering the kind of people we’re dealing with, I’d like to have someone who knows their faces.”
“Not a problem. Roche and Wolfgang appear to have gone to bed within the last few minutes. Do you want us to stay on them?”
“Could you break off, then be back on them by seven o’clock your time?”
“Yes,” Otto said. “That should give me time for about four hours’ sleep.”
“Seems to me that’s about all you ever got in Thailand.” Jack stifled a yawn. “In the meantime, I’ll put in that request.”
“I’ll pack my snowshoes.”
“Good. Carry them on your back. That way you’ll blend in with everyone else if we end up dodging in and out of the igloos.”
Otto smiled as he hung up.
* * *
Jack’s next call was to Connie Crane. “Hey, CC, you pissed off at me?” he asked as soon as she answered.
“Not after hearing the circumstances.” She paused. “Only you would pull a stunt like that, though.”
“Thought you would appreciate me delivering a takeout order. Save you the legwork of leaving the office.”
“Very funny,” she said sarcastically. “So who’s the murderer? Or dare I ask?”
“Anton Roche. I’ve got his number for you to get an emergency wiretap, but I don’t want him put under physical surveillance or arrested until I say so.”
“Yeah, with you, I’m sure you don’t want the bad guys being watched when you’re dealing with them.”
“What are you implying?”
“That not all murder victims are delivered to our office in a van.”
“What the hell? I —”
“Never mind the bullshit,” said Connie gruffly. “Give me the number and then I want a written statement from you and Laura to corroborate my request for the authorization.”
* * *
It was eight-thirty at night when Jack and Laura finished writing their statements. They’d been working for nineteen hours straight, which wasn’t unusual, but what with the stress they’d been under, both were exhausted.
Nevertheless, Laura wanted to peruse Jack’s statement about what had happened at the acreage prior to her arrival.
As Jack waited, he skimmed through the investigational file from Burnaby regarding the stolen painting. The eighty-one-year-old victim, Mr. Herman Jaiger, lived alone in a small house. He was awakened at night by two men wearing ski masks and latex gloves. One man was exceptionally tall, spoke with a German accent, and may have had a tattoo on his neck. Klaus, Jack said to himself as he turned a page. The other man was described as being small and thin. Probably Liam. The thieves demanded to know the whereabouts of a painting.
Jack continued to read. One particular statement caught his attention: “During the home invasion, Mr. Jaiger was tied to a chair and questioned about the whereabouts of the painting. At first he denied having it, but when the larger of the two men burnt his eyelid with a lit cigarette, he quickly told them it was stored in his attic. The man continued to burn his face while the smaller man retrieved the painting.”
The file went on to say that Mr. Jaiger had inherited the home when his father passed away years before. Last year, Mr. Jaiger found the painting in the attic, along with an envelope stuck in the back of the frame with the name Mr. Guri L. Sacher and a Paris address. Inside the envelope was a document of authentication from the Goldman Art Verification Agency in Paris, dated in 1933.
Herman Jaiger had the painting appraised in Vancouver and discovered it was worth millions. He told the investigator that his father was a German SS officer in the Second World War, and he believed his father had stolen the painting. Upon discovering it, he wanted to return it to its rightful owner and made some inquires. He learned that the Goldman Agency in Paris had disappeared during the war and that the home of Mr. Guri L. Sacher had been turned into a school.
Herman then contacted a museum in Paris. The curator told him that an art collector living in Paris had once lent the museum another painting by the same artist. They suggested he contact the collector to see if he could assist. The collector’s name was Philippe Petit, so Herman wrote him a letter and sent a picture of the painting, but as yet, had not heard back.
The name sounded familiar to Jack and he flipped open the file Rose had made from what she had been told. Philippe Petit was the art collector murdered in Paris and the catalyst that started Kerin’s undercover investigation. Explains why he didn’t reply.
Jack removed some photos from a manila envelope and looked at Herman Jaiger’s face. A half-dozen burn marks were evident, including one that caused his eyelid to puff up, leaving only a slit for him to peer out of.
Jack scowled as he leaned back in his chair. Perhaps Connie has a point. I really don’t want anyone watching me the next time I meet up with Klaus.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jack’s phone woke him at three o’clock in the morning.
“Guten Morgen, Herr Taggart.”
“Guten Morgen to you too, Otto.” Jack glanced at the clock. “Or should I say good afternoon where you are. What’s up?”
“Roche is at the airport and has booked an Air France flight departing for Paris. It’s scheduled to arrive in Paris at one-thirty this afternoon.”
“That was short and sweet,” Jack said. “How
about Wolfgang? What’s he been up to?”
“Followed him to a mall this morning where he had a doctor’s appointment. Knowing the area he hangs out in, he likely has a venereal disease. After that he returned home and has probably gone back to bed.”
“And Roche wasn’t seen meeting with anyone?”
“No. He had breakfast alone at the hotel and doesn’t look happy. Do you want me to notify Paris and have them follow him from that end?”
“No, let him go,” replied Jack. “I’m hoping his boss will be coming to see me in a few days. I don’t want to chance heating anyone up. Are you able to stay on Wolfgang?”
“Sure, but it’ll cost you a beer next time I see you.”
* * *
At eight-thirty in the morning, Jack arrived at work and Rose spotted him in the hall as he passed her door. “You!” she said, pointing her finger at him. “Take a seat!” She gestured to a chair in front of her desk.
Oh, crap, what now? Jack sat down as directed.
“I found out where Klaus Eichel went yesterday as soon as he was freed,” said Rose, glaring at Jack.
“Oh?”
“Don’t give me that innocent look! You told me you didn’t hurt him!”
“I didn’t say that. I said I was as gentle as the situation allowed. He tried to grab my shotgun. My only other alternative was to shoot him.”
“You told me you even assisted in lowering him to the floor!”
“I did, but had to use the butt of the shotgun to do it.”
“Are you trying to be funny?”
“Not really. Did you look at the photos of the victim who had his painting stolen?”
“Yes, I did,” replied Rose evenly.
“There’s nothing funny about it. It was Klaus who did that to him.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to dispense justice,” Rose snapped.
Jack stared silently back at her.
“Damn it, Jack, I know Klaus is a sadist and was abusing your informant, but you don’t take the law into your own hands.”
“I didn’t. It was simply a situation where I had no other choice.”
“Both sides of his jaw are fractured and he hardly has any teeth left.”
“Maybe next time he won’t try to grab a shotgun from me.”
“There better not be a next time,” warned Rose.
“Did you read that he continued to burn Mr. Jaiger with a cigarette even after he told them where the painting was?” asked Jack.
“You don’t know for sure it was Klaus. Not one hundred percent.”
“Really? Not one hundred percent? Maybe I’m better at math than you.”
“Don’t be impertinent,” she said. “That’s not the point. Even if it was, it doesn’t give you the right to attack him.”
“It was him who tried to attack me. If you don’t believe me, call Sammy. He saw it.”
Rose stared at Jack a moment, then said, “I want to make myself clear. I won’t stand for unnecessary violence.”
“You made yourself clear.” Jack tried not to let the anger he felt show in his voice. “I only use as much force as necessary. Is there anything else?”
Rose paused. “Yes, two things. I have a translated copy of all of Kerin Bastion’s undercover notes, including notes from his partner, Maurice Leblanc, who was on surveillance across the street from the park when the murder took place.”
Jack clenched his jaw.
Rose caught the look. “It wasn’t your fault,” she said quietly. “You were doing your job and he was doing his. It happens.”
“You said you had two things. What’s the other?”
Rose studied Jack. Anger was a natural step on his road to recovery. It was how he dealt with his anger that concerned her. She decided to let it go for now. “The other thing I have is about who spied on Clive Dempsey for the bad guys.”
“Big Joe Investigations,” said Jack with sudden interest. “What have you got?”
“The company is owned by a Joe Hershey, who works out of his house. He’s an ex-member from the Prairies who was stationed in a variety of plainclothes units.”
“I don’t know him,” Jack said.
“He didn’t have a good rep. Apparently, he would fabricate stories to make himself look good while making his colleagues look bad. He wasn’t particularly gifted when it came to intelligence.”
“Not someone I would trust to work with us,” noted Jack.
“For sure,” agreed Rose.
“Going by the name of his company, I take it he’s a large man?”
“The person I spoke to said he weighed about two hundred kilos and that there wasn’t a gram of muscle in his whole body. He said you could tell what police cars he drove because if they had bucket seats, the back of the seats were broken off from his weight.”
“Won’t be a tough guy to spot if they hire him to work on me,” said Jack.
“He has two other guys he hires when he needs them. I’ll get all the details and photos within the next day or two, including vehicle descriptions.”
Jack nodded, then updated Rose on the phone call he’d received from Otto regarding Roche returning to Paris. Afterwards, he returned to his own desk and updated Laura. They then read the translation of Kerin’s notes, along with those of his partner, Maurice Leblanc.
When they were finished, Jack looked at Laura and asked, “What do you think?”
“Kerin was set up to see if he had a surveillance team,” replied Laura. “Walking from the café, then hanging out at a park. There had to be counter-surveillance on him.”
“I’m positive there was. Goes along with Roche telling him he would only be meeting the Ringmaster once. They wanted to up the pressure. He should have ditched the surveillance team.”
“Yeah. All it did was get him killed.”
“That and trying to phone to warn me,” Jack said bitterly.
“Obviously he was too inexperienced to know he was being set up.”
“I don’t know if experience would have saved him as far as the phone call goes.” Jack shook his head. “If I was in that situation, I don’t know if I would have acted any differently. Hope I never have to find out.”
“If it’s about me, I kind of hope you make the call,” Laura said dryly.
“Kind of hope?” Jack raised his eyebrows. Just then his phone rang and he reached to answer it.
“Got some news you might be interested in,” said Connie. “We managed to get an emergency tap on Anton’s phone late last night. We got an incoming call from his brother in Paris at seven this morning.”
“Surveillance put Roche Freulard on a flight from Frankfurt bound for Paris at about noon their time,” Jack said. “Doing the math, it would mean Roche placed the call at four o’clock in the afternoon his time. What did they say?”
“Roche wasn’t happy. Turns out the Ringmaster was going to step down and recommend he take over the organization, but all that’s on hold until they get their hands on the painting. Roche isn’t the only one upset. Anton said that Klaus figures he is going to be fired.”
“Klaus figures right. They don’t want him to know until he returns to Europe. They’re probably afraid he’ll do something stupid if he finds out here.”
“I agree. Anyway, that was the gist of their conversation on that point. Then Roche told Anton that the Ringmaster is sending Wolfgang over to see you.”
“Oh, crap,” Jack muttered. “I was hoping the Ringmaster would show up in person. Wolfgang Menges was the driver when Roche rode in the back seat of a Porsche after he called me from the hotel in Frankfurt. There was a swarthy-looking guy in the front with Wolfgang. That’s who I was hoping would come.”
“Maybe he will later. Roche made it explicitly clear that nobody was to lay a hand on you. The idea is to get you to trust them.”
“They think I have the painting in bonded storage,” Jack said. “They’re going to want to sucker me into taking it out. I’m going to request that Detective O
tto Reichartinger, from Germany, and Kerin’s partner, Maurice Leblanc, come to assist in the event others besides Wolfgang show up. They might recognize someone.”
“Good idea, but there’s more. I think you’re going to get a call from Anton. He was told to try and check you. He’s going to arrange to meet you, then have surveillance put on you.”
“Perfect.” Jack grinned. “I love it when a plan comes together. I’ll prepare a background cover for my UC. Maybe the Ringmaster will show up after they check me out.”
“You’re okay with them tailing you?” Connie was surprised.
“Okay with it? I love it!”
“That makes me nervous,” Connie said gravely.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was ten o’clock the following morning when Jack received a call from Anton. He put his finger to his lips to caution Laura, then walked into a stationery room for privacy.
“What’s up, Anton?” asked Jack. “Is the boss man here from Europe already?”
“Uh, no, not yet,” replied Anton. “I would like to meet you in person to talk about something.”
“Trying to set me up to kidnap me, Anton?”
“No, no, no,” replied Anton adamantly. “I would be happy to meet you in a public place. Perhaps a restaurant of your choice, if you like. I will come alone, but you can bring whoever you like with you.”
“I see. I guess today I could free myself up for lunch, say, at twelve-thirty? I know you don’t know Vancouver very well, so how about the Fort Pub in Fort Langley? Do you know where that is?”
“I do. That is ideal! Thank you.”
* * *
At eleven-thirty, Laura sat in the back of an SUV, in charge of the surveillance team stationed near the Fort Pub and Grill. Half an hour after she arrived, Big Joe was spotted driving a white van with Bojan in the seat beside him. The van had dark-tinted windows along the sides and back. Moments later the van parked near the pub, and Big Joe and Bojan disappeared into the back of the van. Seconds later two men who worked for Big Joe arrived in separate vehicles and parked nearby.
