“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you.”
“How could you? Then I saw you at the ambulance checking on Alf. I knew you were a good guy. Alf wasn’t awake, and his breathing was wrong. I begged Pickens to get an ambulance. Instead they left him on the sidewalk. At least the paramedics came.”
“That was my girlfriend, Maggie.”
“I’d like to meet her.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Maybe we can go out for dinner.”
“Deal.”
Brad stood. “I need to go. I gotta get some sleep.”
“Thank you for coming.”
“It was nice to meet you. I’m glad you’re safe.”
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Calgary Hells Angels’ Clubhouse
September 1978
Pickens carried a beer into the clubhouse. His hospital stay was a couple of days. Now, six weeks later, he had full movement of his right arm, although his shoulder still ached. The cops had tried every trick they knew to get information from him. He didn’t remember. Traumatic amnesia, his doctor said. Selective amnesia. Pickens smiled.
The cops tried to press charges, but couldn’t link anything to Pickens. He told them he was a victim, like the others. He’d been luckier. The immunity agreement covered anything in the past.
The city planning department had issued orders that the Gypsy Jokers’ Clubhouse was to be closed immediately. Police protected city workers while the few remaining bikers were evicted. The final insult was the order to demolish the clubhouse.
Pickens supervised the renovation of the Satan’s Soldiers old clubhouse. The former warehouse in the southeast was perfect for the club. No one in this industrial area would complain about the late-night parties or the roar of bikes coming and going at all hours.
The new meeting room on the main level had a spacious bar with a long counter and a dozen bar stools. A full-size pool table occupied one side, while the opposite wall held a dartboard and shuffleboard table. In between was a conference table that would be the envy of most corporate offices in Calgary.
Tradesmen scrambled throughout the building putting the final touches on the renovations. Around noon, a delivery company dropped off boxes. Next, trucks from local breweries dropped off cases of beer and hard liquor. In the late afternoon, a catering company unloaded dozens of food trays. Finally, everything was ready for the party—his party.
That evening, Pickens posted a few remaining members of the Jokers and Soldiers as guards outside the new clubhouse.
Pickens took a seat at the bar and watched the bikers arrive. He’d invited clubs from across Alberta, BC, and Saskatchewan. Bikers rode in from Montana, Washington State, and Idaho. Everyone was searched before they entered, filling boxes with various weapons. Once inside, Gypsy Joker and Satan’s Soldier bikers removed their jacket or vest, handing in the once-cherished colors of their former club.
Pickens provided lots of alcohol. Waitresses in tight T-shirts and shorts made sure the guests always had a drink. A jukebox in the corner played a steady diet of Kiss, Deep Purple, and AC/DC. The hookers were given the night off—no walking the streets tonight. They were there for the guests. No club member was without a female companion—a few with more than one. Some danced, some made out on the couches. Others headed upstairs.
Pickens watched Rodney Brazeau, Canadian vice president of the Hells Angels, walk to the middle of the bar and nod to a BC Hells Angel, who unplugged the jukebox.
The guests quieted. Brazeau picked up a microphone.
“Brothers, this is a historic moment for Canadian clubs. The last few months have been challenging for everyone and things were done that were regrettable. There’s a need to clean the slate, to start anew.”
A few bikers cheered.
A white sheet on the wall behind the bar was pulled away revealing a large drawing of the red and white skull, and wings, the Hells Angels patch.
“Welcome to the Hells Angels Calgary Clubhouse.”
The bikers cheered and whistled.
“I know some of you are worried about the future. You don’t want to be a puppet club to the national organization. You don’t want to have decisions made for you. I’m here tonight, not as an outsider, but as a friend. To let you know that the national organization supports your right to independence. That’s why we looked for your new leaders amongst your own. Local boys, local heroes.”
The bikers cheered again.
Brazeau smiled and held up his hands. “It’s my honor to introduce your new chapter president and vice-president. Come on up, Hells Angels Calgary Chapter president, Jeremy Pickens.” There were cheers and whistles.
Pickens stepped to the front. This was his moment—all the planning, all the work, and a lot of pain. It was worth it. Pickens shook Brazeau’s extended hand. Brazeau drew him close in a hug with two back slaps. Pickens was the first to receive his new colors—the black vest with a red and white-winged skull patch on the back with a bottom rocker that said, ‘Calgary’ and President embroidered on the front.
The bikers yelled and whistled.
Brazeau nodded to Pickens.
“I’d like to introduce my vice president,” Pickens said. “Come on up, Vice President Dale Hehn.”
Acknowledgments
The hand drawn art was created by Jordie Ryder of the Stoney-Nakoda First Nation. Jordie is a talented artist and I am honored to include his drawing.
It takes a lot of people to bring this novel to print. I am lucky to have a great team assisting me.
Thank you to Jonas Saul who took an interest first in Crisis Point, and now OUTLAW MC. Jonas was a great support through editing and proofing. I am very lucky to work with him. Most important, he continues to support my writing.
Robb Grindstaff provided a detailed review and offered sound advice on plot flaws, character development, and flow.
Thank you to Jodie Renner who worked with me on the first draft and crafted it into a novel.
Thank you to Alexandra Writers’ Centre Society for great courses and outstanding instructors, Theanna Bischoff and Naomi Lewis.
* * *
Thanks again to Inklings critique group for working their way through this novel.
Cori Arnold, Jayne Barnard, Catherine Saykaly-Stevens, Laura Pylypow, and Sharon Wildwind.
I had a great group of beta readers who gave me encouragement and great suggestions:
Lori Craig, Matt Huff, Craig Ilott, Rod Fredette, Colleen Peters, Bill Sturgeon, and Susan Sturgeon.
Laurie McMillan provided detailed final proof.
But most of all, to Valerie West, who has always recognized the potential with this novel, has always encouraged my writing and has been there to pick me up when the task seemed to daunting or the setbacks to large.
And finally, to all those who read Crisis Point and anxiously awaited the next novel—here it is!
I hope you enjoy this novel.
About the Author
Dwayne Clayden combines his knowledge and experience as a police officer and paramedic to write crime thrillers. His first novel, Crisis Point, was a finalist for the 2015 Crime Writers of Canada Arthur Ellis Awards.
Wolfman’s Back, the third book in the Brad Coulter Series, will be released in 2019.
Dwayne’s short story, Hell Hath No Fury, was published in AB Negative, an anthology of short stories from Alberta Crime Writers.
His vast experience working with emergency services spans over 40 years and includes work as a police officer, paramedic, tactical paramedic, firefighter, emergency medical services (EMS) chief, educator, and academic chair.
He is a popular speaker at conferences and writing groups, presenting on realistic police and medical procedures.
The co-author of four paramedic textbooks, he has spoken internationally at EMS conferences for the past three decades.
He is on the Board of Directors for the Crime Writers of Canada and the Alexandra Writers’ Centre Society.
DwayneClayden.co
m
[email protected]
Outlaw MC Page 28
