Outlaw MC

by Dwayne Clayden

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Across the city, in the back room of the T & C bar, the Satan’s Soldier’s leadership was meeting.

  “Those fuckin’ cops,” Perrault said. “Devlin killed Morales, and got the money and the drugs. Most of our dealers are in jail on bullshit charges, not to mention our hookers.”

  “The fuckin’ courts are supporting those fictitious charges,” White said.

  Hehn laughed.

  “What the fuck’s so funny?” White asked.

  “I didn’t think you knew the word fictitious, let alone use it in a sentence. And you used it right.”

  “Fuck you,” White said. “I got books, you know.”

  “The picture kind?” Hehn asked.

  “Yeah, you’re both fuckin’ comedians,” Perrault said. “Maybe when the cops put us out of business, the bar will let you do comedy. Try makin’ a livin’ at that, you fuckers.”

  “Sorry, boss,” Hehn said. “Just tryin’ to lighten the mood.”

  “Nice fucking try,” Perrault said. “We’re in deep shit and that’s nothing to laugh at. The cops hurt us big time. They’re gonna come after us hard. That’s on the Jokers for going after the prosecutor in the courthouse and the judge in his home. All that got them was four bodies.”

  “We need to make the pigs hurt real bad,” White said. “Maybe send a few to hell.”

  “We could do that, and we’d feel good for a day or two,” Hehn said. “Then they’d throw everything at us. Win the battle and lose the war.”

  “Shit. Hehn, when did you become such a war historian?” White asked.

  “I read a little—not the picture book kind. We’re fighting two battles—the cops and the Jokers. Right now, they’re both beating us. The cops got some of our guys and the Jokers are moving into our territory.”

  “We get more guys,” White said.

  “We can recruit,” Hehn said, “but it’ll never be enough as long as the cops got their sights on us.”

  “If you’re so smart, what’s your plan?” White asked.

  “We affiliate with the Jokers.”

  “Are you crazy? Fuckin’ nuts?” White said. “We fight for months, and now you want to surrender?”

  “It’s not a surrender,” Hehn said. “It’s a truce. For now. For a while. We both go underground. No fighting. Nothing to get the cops’ attention. The cops get bored and the heat in the press cools. We work quietly, behind the scenes. We divide the city, honor each other’s turf and build things back up. The money is out there.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” White said.

  “Right now we’re letting the cops confiscate our drugs and money,” Hehn said. “That’s stupid.”

  “You sayin’ I’m stupid?” White asked.

  “I don’t need to say it,” Hehn said.

  “Shut up,” Perrault said. “Both of you, I need to think.”

  They waited as Perrault paced the room.

  “Shit, you may be on to something,” Perrault said. “It ain’t working the way we’re going. I don’t trust the Jokers, but I trust the cops less. It won’t hurt to ask. How do we do this?”

  “I know a guy in the Jokers.”

  “What the fuck?” White said.

  “Hey, nothing goin’ on,” Hehn said. “I know him from when we was kids. Maybe he can get Keaton to meet. Just the leaders, theirs and ours. The ones not in jail.”

  “Give it a shot,” Perrault said. “Do it soon. Tomorrow.”

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  2100 Hours Tuesday

  Pickens stood inside the barn. The bar was stocked, tables and chairs set up, and a large city map was laid out on the table. All his planning led to this day. They’d agreed to three from each club at the meeting. Pickens knew them all well—he was thorough in his research. When the Soldiers arrived, Pickens would search them. Hehn would search the Jokers.

  The Cadillac with the Jokers arrived first. Keaton exited the car and strode toward the door.

  Pickens didn’t need to say anything. Hehn put out his arm. “No one goes in till they’re searched.”

  “Fuck you, ya rodent,” Keaton said.

  “Boss, we agreed,” Pickens said. “I search the Soldiers, Hehn searches the Jokers.”

  Keaton scowled at Hehn, then held out his arms. Hehn found a hunting knife and a 9mm. When he reached Keaton’s groin, Keaton said, “Yeah, that’s a weapon.”

  “My women prefer something a lot bigger.” Hehn grinned.

  Keaton swung at Hehn, but Pickens caught the punch. “Go inside, boss.”

  Wolfman was next.

  “Wolfe, put the stuff on the table,” Pickens said. “It’ll be easier that way.”

  Wolfman hesitated, then set a 9mm, a hunting knife, a revolver in an ankle holster, and a switchblade on the table. Hehn did a quick search. Wolfman entered the barn.

  Two vans pulled up. Eight Satan’s Soldiers got out of the second van and circled the first. Then White got out, looked around, and nodded to Perrault, who stepped out.

  “This way, boys,” Hehn called from the barn door. “Weapons on the table.”

  “Fuck that,” White said. “I gotta check things outside and get my boys set up. Let’s go, boys. We’re taking a walk around this dump.”

  “Go ahead,” Pickens said. “Be my guest. My guys are already out there.”

  White motioned for his guys from the second van to follow. They set off around the barn.

  Pickens watched Perrault closely. His eyes were narrow and dark, with an intensity like a cougar ready to pounce.

  “Hey, boss,” Hehn said. “The easy way is you guys put the weapons on the table. The hard way is he does a thorough search.”

  “The fuckin’ Jokers get searched?” Perrault asked.

  “You bet, boss,” Hehn said.

  “What about the barn?” Perrault asked.

  “Searched it myself, boss,” Hehn said. “It’s clean.”

  “Okay.” Perrault set a gun and a switchblade on the table. Pickens did a quick search and found no other weapons.

  White returned from the other side of the barn. “Looks okay, boss—got the boys in place. One of ours is shadowing one of theirs.”

  “Good,” Perrault said. “Drop your weapons here and let’s get this fucking meeting going.”

  White set a .44 magnum on the table, two knives, a small two-shot pistol, and brass knuckles.

  “That all you’ve got?” Pickens asked.

  White stepped close to Pickens. White outweighed him by about one hundred pounds and had five inches on him. Pickens held his ground. “Arms out. I’m gonna double check in case you forgot something.”

  White glared.

  Pickens did a thorough search. If there were a problem, White would be in the thick of it. Pickens found no other weapons, which surprised him. “You’re good to go.”

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Annie listened at her door. Quiet. She slid the key into the lock and turned it slowly. Click. The door opened. Everything else was quiet.

  She crept down the hallway to Sissy’s room. Annie fumbled with the keys, finally finding the right one. She unlocked the door. Sissy was on her bed. She pulled the covers tight and slid up to the headboard.

  “Annie. How’d you get in?”

  “I have keys. Get dressed.”

  “But, how’d —”

  “There’s no time. Get dressed, now.”

  Sissy jumped out of bed, grabbed her clothes, and quickly dressed.

  Annie led Sissy through the meeting room to the front door. On her fifth try, she found the right key and opened the locks.

  Annie peeked outside and didn’t see anyone. They ran to the seniors’ center. The door was locked. She knocked on the door—no answer. She looked over her shoulder toward the clubhouse, no one was coming after them. She pounded on the door, thought about going to a house, but bikers lived nearby. Too big of a chance so they ran down the street.

  At a cro
ss street, Annie saw the sign for a 7-Eleven. They ran in that direction and stopped in the parking lot. It was a strip mall—restaurant, 7-Eleven, laundromat, and a pay phone. A couple of people stood outside the 7-Eleven smoking. Two, maybe three people were in the laundromat. Annie and Sissy sprinted to the pay phone. Annie didn’t have a dime. Now what? Then she remembered she didn’t need money to dial 911.

  Annie and Sissy leaned against the laundromat wall, close to the pay phone, out of sight. They’d bummed cigarettes from the guys out front. Annie didn’t smoke, but it was good cover. Sissy smoked like a pro. Time dragged. Annie took a drag from the cigarette and coughed.

  She was at the end of the cigarette when a police cruiser pulled up to the laundromat. A guy exited the passenger side and a lady from the driver’s side. They looked around the area, then walked over to Annie and Sissy. The lady cop stopped in front of Annie. “You the one who called?”

  Annie looked from one cop to the other. “Yes.”

  “I’m Constable Davidson. The dispatcher said you had some important information for a cop called Coulter.”

  Annie looked to the other cop. “He’s not Coulter.”

  “No, he’s my partner, Constable Gunther. What’s your name?”

  Annie started to walk away. “I’ll only talk to Coulter.”

  Davidson grabbed her arm. “He’s busy. He sent us. What’s your name?”

  Annie stared at the lady cop. She had a hard look, like most cops, but softness in her blue eyes. “You have to protect us.”

  “Protect you from who?” Davidson asked.

  “The bikers.”

  “You know something about the bikers?” Davidson asked. “What’s your name?”

  “Annie.”

  “You’re the girl who disappeared in May.” Davidson’s eyes widened in surprise. “Annie? You changed your hair.”

  Annie nodded. “They cut it and dyed it black after some cops came to the clubhouse looking for me.”

  “That was us,” Davidson said.

  “Can you protect us?”

  “For sure. Get in the car.” Annie and Sissy got in the cruiser.

  Davidson turned around in her seat. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Sissy.”

  “Were you at the clubhouse the whole time?”

  “Yes, both of us.”

  “When we came looking for you, a redheaded kid answered, then some big dude told us to get lost.”

  “He was our friend, Alf. He’s dead now. The big guy, Jeter Wolfe, killed him.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Annie looked down. “He … Wolfman … he raped me. A lot. Sissy, too.”

  “Ah, Christ,” Davidson said. “How’d you get away?”

  “I stole keys,” Annie said.

  “How do you know Coulter?”

  “I don’t. He was there the night the ambulance came for Alf. Coulter said his name. I had a feeling Pickens knew him, so I asked Pickens who he was. Pickens said he was a big pain in his ass. I don’t think Coulter likes bikers.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” Davidson smiled. “Why do you want to talk to him?”

  “There’s a big meeting tonight,” Annie said. “Really big. I need to tell him about it.”

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  Brad leaned back in his chair and looked at the clock. Almost 2100 hours. Time to let the guys go home. They could all use some downtime. He grabbed the phone, hit the intercom button, and said, “Everyone, my office, now.”

  Steele and Zerr arrived first.

  “Got all the guns cleaned and oiled,” Steele said.

  “Yeah, he did two, I did the rest,” Zerr said.

  “It’s not about how many, it’s about how good,” Steele said.

  “Call it a night,” Brad cut in. “Where’s Nichols and Ames?”

  “Not sure. Nichols has been moping around for a few days. Ames is cleaning his rifle.”

  Brad grabbed the phone and hit the intercom button again. “Nichols, Ames, my office, now.” He replaced the phone and pushed back his chair. “Go home, get some rest.”

  The phone rang. Brad shook his head. “Figures.” He picked up the receiver. “Coulter.”

  He listened for a minute and leaned forward. His chair hit the floor. Steele waved and turned toward the door.

  “No, wait,” Brad said, hand over the phone.

  “Slow down, Tina,” Brad said. “Start over.”

  “We’ve found Annie. She and another girl escaped. The Jokers had her the whole time. But that’s not important now. Last night she heard the Jokers talking about meeting with the Soldiers tonight. There was a loud argument. It might be a peace deal, or it might be an agreement to fight together against us. Annie isn’t sure.”

  “Where are they meeting?”

  “She doesn’t know. A barn, but they never said where.”

  “Is she okay?” Brad asked.

  Tina’s voice lowered. “She seems okay. She’s a strong girl. She was raped a lot by Jeter Wolfe.”

  “Get her to the hospital.”

  “Too late for that. She hasn’t been abused for more than a month. Wolfman and another biker fought over her. A guy named Pickens won her. He didn’t touch her.”

  Pickens. What the hell? “Okay,” Brad said. “Keep her safe. Take them to the district office and keep them out of sight. I’ll call you later.”

  Nichols and Ames sauntered into the office.

  Brad set down the phone. “You guys aren’t going to believe this. Davidson and Gunther found Annie, the missing girl.”

  “Where?” Steele asked.

  “The Jokers had her,” Brad said. “She escaped. But there’s more.”

  The phone rang. “Coulter.”

  “It’s Devlin. I interrogated a drug dealer I arrested. He has quite the story to tell.”

  “I’ve got news, too,” Brad said. “Give me yours first.”

  “There’s a bigger game going on,” Devlin said. “It’s not about the Jokers and Soldiers making a play for control. It looks like the Hells Angels want control.”

  “Really?”

  “Nothing specific,” Devlin said. “But it adds up. I got a gut feeling the shit’s gonna hit the fan soon.”

  “Damn. That fits with my news,” Brad said. “Davidson found Annie.”

  “What? Where?”

  “The Jokers had her at their clubhouse. More recently, Pickens.”

  “Holy shit, that lying fucker,” Devlin said. “Is she okay?”

  “Davidson says she’s doing fine. Here’s what fits with your story. Annie says the Jokers are meeting tonight with the Soldiers for a peace plan or combining forces against us.”

  “Oh fuck,” Devlin said. “We gotta find that meeting before the Hells Angels do.”

  Another phone in the office rang. Brad pointed at Steele who took the call.

  Brad came back online. “You guys need to work that dealer for the meeting location.”

  “We can try,” Devlin said. “But I don’t think he knows.”

  Steele waved at Brad. “You need to take this, boss. It’s Briscoe.”

  “Devlin, hang on a minute. Briscoe is on the other line.”

  Brad took the phone from Steele. “What’s up?”

  “I followed the Cadillac the Jokers’ prez uses. They headed north on Center Street, so I followed. They went to a barn. When I drove past, I saw a bunch of Harleys and bikers milling around. It looks like they’re having a party.”

  “Shit,” Brad said. “Not a party. It’s a meeting that could turn into a massacre. Where is this place?”

  “Go north on Center Street about a mile past the last houses. They’re at that ranch that’s rented for rodeos and parties. I’m parked a quarter mile farther up Center Street.”

  “I know the place. We’re on our way.”

  Brad grabbed the other phone. “Devlin, get your guys and head north on Center Street. Briscoe found the meeting.”

  Chapter Seventy

  All the
work, the planning, and at last they were here, all in one place. Pickens sat at one end of the big table, with Hehn at the other end. The meeting was in the barn’s large open area, usually the site for big parties, summer barn dances, and occasionally, to take care of some dark business. Tonight, they sat around a table surrounded by a variety of mismatched chairs. The Gypsy Jokers—Keaton and Wolfe—were on one side, with the Satan’s Soldiers—Perrault and White—on the other.

  Pickens appraised the men at the table. The two clubs were meeting face to face for the first time. They gave nothing away as they sized up each other. The Jokers had the advantage in pure ugliness and meanness. The Soldiers were more relaxed, more curious than angry.

  “Let’s get on with this,” Keaton said.

  Pickens leaned forward in his chair. “All right. You know why we’re here. Calgary is a big city. There’s lots of money to be made. We’re not making any because we’re fighting each other. The cops are fighting both of us. They’re arresting our members, hassling our hookers, raiding our clubhouses, and seizing our drugs and cash. The real threat is the cops. Neither club can fight both the cops and the other club and hope to win.” He looked up and down the table. The faces gave nothing away, except anger. “So, we need a peace accord between the Soldiers and the Jokers—no more fighting each other. Divide the city and honor the boundaries.”

  “Who do you think you are to talk to me that way?” Jacques Perrault said. “I don’t take no orders from some accountant.”

  “You and I can go outside and settle this,” Keaton said. “Everyone pairs up and beats the crap outta each other, maybe kill a few. Then where are we? Beaten and wounded, and it’s easier for the cops to take us down. We’re both weaker because of this feud. We’re out of money. We owe for the drugs the cops seized. You lost the twenty-five K you got from Rock Machine. The cops got that and your cocaine and marijuana. The cops are winning.”

  The room was quiet for a few moments, then Keaton nodded to Pickens. He pointed to the city map on the table. “There are natural boundaries—the river and Deerfoot Trail. Jokers stay Northwest and Southwest. Soldiers get southeast, like before.” He drew lines on the map with a dark marker. “Northeast is the area that’s disputed.”