Birds of a Feather

by Don Easton

  “There’s something else. I, I really screwed up,” Patton said, covering his face with his hands to try and stifle a sob.

  “You didn’t screw up. We’re always working alone over there. They set you up and wanted you to follow the Mercedes. It was a proper ambush. It could have happened to me as easily as it did to you.”

  “It’s not that,” cried Patton. “I really screwed up. I told them.”

  “Told them what? What are you talking about?”

  “They wanted the names of everyone I worked with. I told them. I didn’t want to, but I did.”

  “Fuck ’em. Let them come after us. I hope they do.”

  “No … it’s not that. They wanted home addresses. The names of our wives and kids. Some of it I tried to make up. Giving fake names, but I had lost it. There was a lot of yelling and screaming. I was scared. I might have given them some real names, too. Or maybe I only think I did.… Every time I go to sleep it’s like I’m there again. I can’t tell my nightmares apart from what I really did say.”

  “Hell, I bet hardly any of them spoke English. They won’t remember or know what —”

  “No, the captain spoke good English. He was writing down what I was saying in a notebook. Then he would smile at me as he flipped the pages back and ask some of the same questions over again. They caught me lying a couple of times.”

  “Those fucking bastards,” fumed Adams.

  “I tried to invent new names, but now I’m not sure what I told them. I know I gave them some of the guys’ real names because I figured they probably knew the names of guys who had been here for years. I even gave them yours. Not your real address, but your name. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry. We’re flesh and blood. There is only so much any of us can take.”

  “But our families, John. My God, our families …”

  “You were gutsy to be throwing out whatever phony names you did. I can only imagine what the pain would have been like. Most men would have spilled their guts immediately. Did they ask about our office? Do they know where it is?”

  “No, they never asked. I don’t think it occurred to them that we wouldn’t be working out of the downtown office. Which reminds me. What about the four guys who rescued me? Who were they?”

  “FBI agents from the downtown office. I had never met them before, either. Pretty stand-up guys … for FBI agents. Acted almost like real cops.”

  Adams’s attempt to get Patton to smile failed.

  “I never even thanked them,” he said sombrely.

  “I think they would have understood. Under the circumstances, I suspect you had other stuff on your mind.”

  “I think I had lost my mind at that point.”

  “I’ll get ahold of them. I know they’ll want to come and see how you’re doing.”

  “Thanks.”

  “The green Mercedes that set you up … I’m sure they’ve already switched plates. There aren’t too many green Mercedes around, but was there anything besides the colour to identify it?”

  “It did have a small white scrape in the fender behind the right rear tire. Why? You don’t plan on going back to that house, do you? They’ll have cleared out —”

  “I think I already know who owns it. I talked to my friend and he said a guy in the Guajardo cartel by the name of Chico drives a green Mercedes. Chico is an under-boss to the Carrillo Fuentes brothers. He said Chico comes to El Paso regularly to collect money from the pimps who work for him and that he meets them at the Red Poker.”

  “So they might have used him to bait the trap at the house we were working on.”

  “Yeah … and maybe to check out the addresses you threw at them.” Adams stood up and added, “Get some rest, Greg. I’ll be by to see you later.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Don’t, John. It ain’t worth it.”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid.”

  Adams felt more sickened and more enraged as he drove back to his office. He didn’t feel any better after telling his boss, Weber, along with the other three bosses in the office what Patton went through and the questions that were asked.

  Adams felt the four bosses shared the same attitude that was summed up by Davidson, who was the senior officer of the FBI contingent in their office.

  Davidson shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well, not much we can do about it. I’m sure Washington will protest.”

  “Protest!” stammered Adams. “If we don’t have the backbone to retaliate after this, none of our families will be safe.”

  “There will be no retaliation,” said Weber, sharply. “We are not like them. It is what separates the good guys from the bad.”

  Adams glared at Weber. “You didn’t see Greg’s face. What they’ve done to him … they broke him. He’ll never be the same.”

  Weber sighed. “I know he’s been through a lot. So have you. You’re angry. We all are. I want you to take a week off. Go home to your wife.”

  An hour later, Adams left the office … but he didn’t go home. He opted instead to go to the Red Poker Saloon.

  chapter eight

  * * *

  Earl Porter heard the light knock on his door. It had only been twenty minutes since the policewoman had left. He picked up her card from his coffee table and looked at it. Corporal Connie Crane. The knock came again.

  “Who is it?” he yelled.

  The quiet, but persistent knock continued.

  Porter cautiously made his way to the door and looked through the peephole. What he saw was a young girl dressed in a Girl Guide uniform. He breathed a sigh of relief, unlocked the door, and opened it.

  Two men burst inside. One pointed a pistol at him while the other brandished a hunting knife. The man with the knife mockingly said, “We have something to discuss, Señor Porter.”

  Connie Crane and Jack Taggart were walking out of the courthouse together when Connie received a call on her cellphone. Jack saw the shocked look on her face as she listened.

  “I was just there,” she said. “Less than two hours ago … I was interviewing him over a missing person … his girlfriend … Lily Rae.”

  Connie paused and stared at Jack suspiciously and added, “Jack Taggart from Intelligence asked me to talk to him. Before this morning, I had never heard of the guy. I’m with Taggart now … not a problem, we’ll both be there.” After Connie hung up, she stood quietly staring at Jack.

  “What’s up?” asked Jack.

  “What’s up? You mean you’re going to stand here and tell me you don’t know?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking. Why are you looking at me like that? What’s going on?”

  “That was Wilson from VPD Homicide. After I left Porter’s this morning, a maid went in to water plants because she thought he was still out of town. She found him tied and gagged to a kitchen chair … with his throat slit.”

  “What the hell? I had nothing to do with it. I was in court. You know that. I’m trying to find Lily Rae. I didn’t want the guy who could tell us where she is, getting murdered. Think about it.”

  Connie paused for a moment, biting her lip as she pondered the situation before replying, “Yeah, okay, I believe you.

  “You should.”

  “Shit, don’t blame me for being suspicious. It’s not like you don’t have a long history for doing things you shouldn’t … and don’t give me that act surprised, show concern, deny, deny, deny routine. There have been far too many bodies turning up around you and far too many coincidences.”

  “So … how’s it feel with the shoe on the other foot?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well … you know I’m going to have to be truthful when I talk to Wilson. You were the last person to see him alive. You then came to see me and appeared angry. As I recall, you even made some comment about feeling justified smacking him around. Jesus, CC. Why did you do it? You must have known y
ou would get caught.”

  “What the fuck? Jack! I didn’t! It was just a coincidence that —”

  “A coincidence?” Jack grinned. “Where have I heard that word before?”

  Connie scowled at Jack. “You prick. Quit screwing with me.”

  Connie and Jack arrived at the condo building and a uniformed member of the Vancouver Police Department opened the lobby door to let them in. Minutes later, Detective Wilson came out in the hallway to talk to them outside of Porter’s penthouse.

  Jack told Wilson what had prompted his interest in Porter, as well as Drug Section’s past interest in Porter and his associate, Clive Slater.

  “Business interests in Mexico,” mused Wilson. “We already ran the footage on the apartment security cameras. The cameras show two men sneaking in through the underground garage this morning. They both look dark and I was thinking they were Aboriginal, but now that I think of it, they do look Mexican. One looked up at the cameras. I expected him then to try and hide his face. It was the opposite. The asshole sneered into the camera and laughed.”

  “He sneered and laughed?” said Jack, incredulously.

  “We don’t have sound, but you can tell he did. His sneer is one I won’t forget, either.”

  “Let’s nickname him El Burla,” said Jack.

  “Al who?” asked Wilson.

  “El Burla. The Spanish word for sneer is burla.”

  “Sounds good,” replied Wilson.

  “You’ve got their faces, then?” noted Connie.

  “El Burla for sure. Stocky, black hair covering the tops of his ears, and a very flat and wide nose. He acted like he thought he was invincible. As if he thought we couldn’t touch him. I’ll love showing a jury the camera footage once we catch him. The other guy’s image isn’t quite as clear. I’ll have to see if we can enhance it.”

  “Porter was really paranoid when I came to see him,” said Connie. “Now it makes sense. He knew somebody was after him. The thing is, he wouldn’t open the door, even for me, until I held my badge up to the peephole.”

  “The door isn’t damaged, so maybe he trusted whoever he let in,” noted Wilson.

  “Are you going to grab Clive Slater for questioning?” asked Jack.

  “Definitely.” Wilson looked at Connie. “Maybe you and I should work together. You for the missing girlfriend and me for her boyfriend’s homicide.”

  “Sounds good to me,” replied Connie. “Let’s hope it doesn’t turn into a double homicide.” She looked at Jack. “Anything to add?”

  Jack shook his head. “Not now. You two do your thing, but keep me apprised. I’m willing to help out with a UC approach if it is warranted. Maybe on Slater or whoever else surfaces.”

  “You said a UC was tried on Slater before,” said Connie. “It didn’t work.”

  “There are different approaches or styles to UC work,” replied Jack.

  “Yeah, go figure,” said Connie. “And please, tell me, what would your style —” Connie quit talking as Jack walked past her a short distance down the hallway and gingerly picked up a small piece of cardboard.

  “What is it?” asked Wilson.

  “A cut-out picture of a Girl Guide,” said Jack. “Explains why Porter opened his door.”

  “It does?” asked Wilson. He looked at Connie and she shrugged.

  Moments later, both Wilson and Connie took turns peeking through the peephole in Porter’s door while Jack remained in the hall holding the picture up close to the peephole.

  “I’d have sworn it was a real kid standing in the hall,” muttered Connie.

  Wilson went to Clive Slater’s apartment and found he wasn’t home, so he stuck a business card in his door. A couple of hours later, Wilson received a call from a lawyer by the name of Jenkins who said he was representing Slater and asked what it was about. Wilson told him and Jenkins said he would call back. Minutes later, Jenkins called again and said Slater had agreed to meet Wilson as long as Jenkins was present. Wilson tried to set up an appointment immediately, but Jenkins said his calendar was full. Eventually the lawyer agreed to meet at Wilson’s office the following afternoon at three o’clock.

  Connie called Jack to let him know.

  “Four hours after a murder and he’s already lawyered up without Wilson even talking to him?” Jack was incredulous.

  “Yeah, how about that.”

  “You can bet his hands are dirty, too,” muttered Jack.

  “Sounds like it. With his lawyer, I doubt Wilson will get much, but who knows. Wilson does have a good rep for being sharp. I’m going down there tomorrow when he interviews him.”

  “You going to interview him, too?”

  “Not until I hear what he says to Wilson. Later, if need be, we can use Lily Rae as another excuse for me to interview him. Wilson might touch on her disappearance because they would expect us to know she was Porter’s girlfriend, but we will likely hold back on any serious questioning in her regard until later. Maybe catch him without a lawyer. I’ll be down at VPD to confer with Wilson if he feels the need. Would be good if we could reach you, as well.”

  “I’ll be available on my cell,” replied Jack. “Tonight, if you don’t have any objections, I’m going to drive out and tell Marcie that Porter was murdered.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “What about Lily Rae’s mother?” asked Jack. “She should be told, too.”

  “Go ahead. Saves me from telling her. Let me know if she says anything that will help. Also, if Lily uses a computer at home, I’d like to get it. Same for anything else you see that might help.”

  “Will do … and tell Wilson good luck.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. With the lawyer there, I bet it will be a short interview.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” agreed Jack before hanging up. He brooded for a moment as he formulated a plan on how to get Slater to talk.

  Slater won’t think it’s a short interview when I talk to him. In fact, I bet he will remember it for the rest of his life …

  chapter nine

  * * *

  On Monday night, Jack and Natasha, with Mikey in an infant car seat in the back seat, drove out to Liz and Ben’s farm in Chilliwack. Jack hadn’t told them he was coming, as he wanted to be with Marcie and console her if need be, when he updated her on the investigation.

  When they arrived, Ben, Liz, and Marcie came out of the house to meet them.

  “What a nice surprise,” said Ben. “What brings you out here?”

  “Have you eaten?” asked Liz.

  “We already ate, but thanks,” replied Natasha.

  “What about you, Mikey? Want me to throw on a steak or something?” Ben joked.

  “Think we better wait until he grows teeth,” suggested Natasha.

  Jack saw the worried look on Marcie’s face as she looked at him. He shook his head and said, “No sign of her yet, but I want to talk to you.”

  While the others went inside, Jack walked with Marcie down the long driveway as he told her about the murder and that Porter had been suspected of being involved with cocaine trafficking.

  “Oh, no,” cried Marcie. “I knew it! I knew something was wrong. Lily … you think … what? What do you think happened to her?”

  “I know it doesn’t look good, but there is still no sign of her. Whoever murdered Porter didn’t try to hide his body. The fact we haven’t found Lily yet could be a good sign.”

  “But where could she be?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe tied and gagged and in the trunk of some car. Porter may have ripped off some dope dealers. Maybe she was taken as a hostage to get him to return the drugs or something.”

  “But now that they’ve killed him …”

  “I know it doesn’t look good, but don’t give up hope.”

  “So what’s going to happen?

  “VPD Homicide have arranged an interview with one of Porter’s associates tomorrow afternoon to see if they can come up with some leads. The guy is also suspected of be
ing involved with cocaine trafficking. I’m sure he knows something.”

  “Why are they waiting until tomorrow? Talk to him now,” urged Marcie.

  “He lawyered up. That was the soonest the lawyer would agree to.”

  “What if he clams up?” asked Marcie, sounding panicked. “What then?”

  “Then I’ll do my thing.”

  “Oh … I see,” she replied, calming down. They took a couple of steps in silence as Marcie thought about it before adding, “Guess he better hope he talks to the cops tomorrow.”

  Jack frowned. Marcie was a smart kid. She had picked up a lot about certain things over the years. Things he wished she knew nothing about.

  Marcie saw his face and said, “Sorry. That was stupid of me. I mean, you know, I meant you would do your undercover stuff or whatever.”

  “Yes, I know what you meant. Do you think Lily’s mother is home? I would like to meet her and update her, as well.”

  “They only live about fifteen minutes away by car. Want me to take you there?”

  “Yes, but we’ll take my car. Save your gas money for university.”

  Jack pulled up to a small, single-level ranch-style house and parked. The home had a ramp leading up alongside the stairs to the front door. A flower garden bordered the front of the house and there was a small cedar wishing well in the front yard beside an apple tree. The home was being well cared for, with the exception that the lawn was in dire need of cutting and a few weeds had sprung up in the flower beds.

  Marcie rang the doorbell. She saw Jack looking at the flower beds and said, “Lily always looked after that stuff.”

  Jack was introduced to Eva Rae and quickly told her he had nothing new on Lily’s whereabouts, but there was something he thought she should know.

  Eva looked up at him from her wheelchair with a face that expressed relief she wasn’t being informed of her daughter’s death, but at the same time, disappointment there was not good news. She invited them into the living room and Jack watched as she manipulated the toggle stick on her wheelchair with one hand. Her other hand was crippled and she held it close to her body.