by Don Easton
“Pretty smooth,” chuckled Wilson. “Better hope Satans Wrath never finds out.”
Jack nodded in agreement.
“So what did you say to him?” asked Connie.
“I offered him a chance to go into business together.”
“With Satans Wrath?” exclaimed Wilson. “What if he goes to them looking for you?”
“I am a little concerned about that,” admitted Jack. “When I used the ruse on him, I didn’t expect it would turn into any long-term project. I was hoping a day or two would be all we needed to find Lily.”
“So your cover story may not hold up for long,” noted Wilson.
“For the short term I feel comfortable with it. I made a point of telling Slater to only deal with me. I’ve got a feeling he will do what I tell him.”
“So then he opened up to you?” asked Connie, suspiciously. “He trusted you just like that?”
“Are you kidding? He was practically on his knees begging to work with me.”
Connie stared at Jack, then opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind.
“So, let me tell you what I learned,” continued Jack.
Over the next half hour, Connie and Wilson each jotted down notes as Jack outlined what he had learned from Slater.
“I would never have believed he would open up so quickly upon meeting you,” said Wilson. “You must have been pretty convincing.”
“I guess he thought so.”
“From what you have said, it sounded like the two of you had a really amiable conversation,” said Connie, watching Jack closely. “Maybe we could use his admission against him as evidence.”
“Uh …”
“Or when you said he was practically on his knees begging, should I take that literally?”
“Well, it was sort of literal,” admitted Jack.
“Christ! I thought so! What did you do to the poor son of a bitch?”
“What do you mean the poor son of a bitch?” growled Jack. “He doesn’t deserve any pity. He set up Porter to be killed … which personally I am quite happy about, but he also set up Lily.”
“But what did you —”
“Anything I did to him was strictly psychological,” responded Jack, tersely. “I didn’t hurt him physically. That’s all you need to know.”
“I think that’s all I want to know,” replied Connie, quietly.
“However you did it, your information is a huge lead,” said Wilson. “I really appreciate it. With what we saw in the apartment security cameras it fits. I think Slater was being truthful to you.”
“Oh, I’m sure he was,” replied Jack. “He knows he’d be digging himself a hole he couldn’t get out of if he was lying to Satans Wrath.”
“And he thinks Tio sent a hit team up from Mexico, whacked Porter, and then skedaddled back to Mexico?” noted Wilson.
“That’s what Slater believes. He says Tio does have Mexicans living here and distributing cocaine, but after Porter fled from the motel, one of Tio’s men called and told him they were going to send a team up to Canada to take care of Porter. Also explains why the killers didn’t worry about the security cameras. I bet they headed south the same day.”
“We still have both of Porter’s vehicles impounded,” said Wilson. “I’ll get the mechanics to take another look at his truck. See if it has a secondary deck in the back.”
“Too bad you didn’t know what motel Lily Rae was in at the time,” said Connie. “Might have given us more of a lead if she was taken someplace else to be killed.”
“Let’s hope she hasn’t been murdered,” said Jack quietly.
“And from how these guys operate,” said Wilson, “if they were going to kill her, I don’t see them as the type to worry about hiding any bodies. At least, not driving a victim out to … how did Slater put it? A trailer?”
“Way to hell and gone out into the desert to some mobile trailer,” said Jack.
“Exactly,” said Connie. “If she’s dead, the U.S. probably already has her body. I’ll get on the horn today with the FBI and whatever other law enforcement agencies they have down there. Let’s see if they have any unidentified victims who match Lily’s description.” She looked at Jack and added, “Not that I’m giving up hope. Just doing my job.”
“I know,” said Jack. “It’s also Sunday morning. What do you think your chances are of finding out today?”
“Let’s find out,” said Connie.
Everyone was quiet as Connie started making phone calls, first to the FBI, then the state police, Texas Rangers, and finally the El Paso Police Department.
Her responses were much the same. Nobody was aware, offhand, of any victims fitting Lily’s description, but each suggested it would be better to go through channels on Monday when the regular staff were on duty and could give a more informed answer.
It gave the Canadian investigators some sense of hope.
Over the next two hours, Jack, Connie, and Wilson completed reports, along with an operational plan to be approved by the brass. The basis for the plan rested on an attached report submitted by Jack that said while acting in an undercover capacity and portraying an image of an outlaw biker, he had befriended Clive Slater. His report then listed what Slater had told him.
Connie reviewed Jack’s report and said, “You befriended him?”
“I’ve never met anyone who wanted so badly to be my friend,” replied Jack.
“Yeah, I can only imagine. Would you mind if I added that Slater possibly might have felt intimidated by your role and the Crown would no doubt feel a conviction against him would be unlikely?”
“Knowing our justice system as I do, what you just said sounds most probable.” Jack lowered his voice, cupped a hand to the side of his mouth and in a staged whisper added, “I did yell at him.”
“Got a feeling that’s not all you did,” she replied, going back to work on the operational plan. When she was finished, the plan called for:
Jack’s undercover scenario to continue in the hope of identifying Tio and perhaps some of the men who worked for him in Canada. If Jack’s undercover role led to the identification of Tio and his men, then his UC role would be finished unless circumstances indicated Jack might be successful in finding Lily Rae or her body.
Permission for Jack to go to El Paso was requested should it be deemed necessary, along with a request the Americans be asked through the appropriate channels to provide assistance for his protection should that happen.
That the Vancouver RCMP Drug Section work jointly on the project to take over the drug-trafficking aspect of the investigation.
That Drug Section and Proceeds of Crime investigators would likely be required to travel to El Paso to gather evidence to support cocaine importation and money-laundering charges against the people in Canada. Should that be necessary, they would submit their own request in due course, while still bearing in mind their evidence might be needed to explain the motive behind Porter’s murder at a trial in Canada. It was stressed the investigators from the different units would need to work closely together.
It was further recommended that if the two suspects on the security camera in Porter’s apartment were identified and arrested in El Paso, then permission was requested for Connie and Wilson to travel to El Paso to work with the American authorities and take part in any interrogations. Extradition proceeding would also be initiated.
If it was learned that Lily Rae was murdered in El Paso, the United States would deal with it as it would be in their jurisdiction. In this case, Connie and Wilson would also work with the Amer-ican investigators, as evidence obtained in Canada concerning Porter’s murder might be needed in the United States or visa versa. The Canadian investigators would also look into the possibility that the U.S. judicial system might allow for Slater to be used as a probable hostile witness at criminal proceedings in the U.S.
It was noon when Jack went over to Slater’s apartment and buzzed the intercom.
“Who is it?” asked a female
voice.
“My name is Jack. I’m, uh, Clive’s friend. Is he in?”
“You’re his friend? Good, then come on up.”
Minutes later, Jack was let into Slater’s apartment by a young woman.
“Is he here?” asked Jack.
“Fuck, no.”
“Do you —”
“I don’t know where he is. He took off this morning. If you’re his friend you can hang around and tell him it’s over between us. I’m splitting,” she said, stomping into the bedroom where she continued to throw clothes into a suitcase on the bed.
“Any idea when he might be back?” asked Jack.
“Nope and I don’t care. The guy’s a fuckin’ nutcase.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, for starters, he came home last night all covered in dirt and then had a meltdown.”
“A meltdown?”
“Oh, yeah. A real doozie. He started smashing eggs and crying like a baby. I took him to the hospital and some shrink talked to him for an hour.”
“Really? I wonder what that was all about? Did he say?”
“No, he wouldn’t talk to the shrink … or to me. They gave him some pills to take, which he wouldn’t, so I end up driving him back home at four o’clock this morning. Then at eight he tells me he’s going out. ‘It’s Sunday morning,’ I say. ‘Where ya going?’ Like that is too much to ask. He tells me it’s none of my fucking business. Well, you can tell him it really ain’t none of my fucking business because I’m done with him.”
Seconds later, Jack watched as she dragged the suitcase off the bed and stormed out of the apartment, leaving Jack alone.
Jack quickly locked the apartment door and started to search. He knew the search was illegal and anything he found would not be allowed as evidence, but decided as Slater already had a get-out-of-jail-free card, it really didn’t matter.
A short time later, he hauled what seemed like an empty suitcase down off a shelf in the closet. In and outside pocket of the suitcase he found a hand-drawn map. On it were the initials EP-W-CR14-12-U-L. Above the initial U was a string of dotted lines coming up to a pile of small lines in a haphazard pattern with an X over one of them.
Jack recalled the house trailer out in the desert that Slater had mentioned to him and speculated the map was instructions on how to get to it. Slater had told him he didn’t think the trailer was being used, but decided to copy it into his notebook, regardless. He had most of the pertinent details down when he heard the apartment door being unlocked.
Slater was startled to see Jack standing in the doorway to his kitchen.
“Your girlfriend let me in,” he explained. “She said to tell you she’s out of here. She packed a suitcase and just left. I’m surprised you didn’t bump into her in the hallway.”
“I couldn’t care less about her,” replied Slater.
“I was about to look and see if you had any coffee.”
“Yeah, I’ll get it,” replied Slater, walking into the kitchen and opening a cupboard.
“I understand you lost it when you got home last night.”
“Yeah, I guess. I’m okay now. I just, uh, never had that experience before.”
His words sounded robotic and his face was without emotion. Jack knew it would be a long time, if ever, before Slater would be okay. “So how did you make out this morning?” he asked.
“I think you guys should be happy,” replied Slater. “I met with my Canadian contact and told him what you told me to say. He made me wait while he emailed someone in a chat room who I guess then had to go to another computer and email someone else. Anyway, eventually the message was passed on to Tio. He had a couple of questions and we had to go through the whole process again, but in the end, he said he is willing to meet you in person.”
“I thought he would be,” replied Jack evenly, while controlling the excitement he felt. “What questions did he have?”
“He wanted to know how I met you, so … well, you said not to tell anyone about last night. So I lied to them and said I’ve known you all my life. I told them you were my cousin. Is that all right?”
“Yeah … it’s perfect. You did really well.” They’ll probably kill you for that later …
“He also wanted to know why I hadn’t mentioned you before. I said I had never said anything to him or you because I was afraid you guys would look at each other as competition. Then I said when you invited me over to the clubhouse yesterday, you mentioned you guys were really unhappy with the Colombians. I said I told you I knew a guy in Mexico who could help and that one thing led to another and you wanted to meet him.”
“Excellent. So when and where do I meet him?”
“He said you’re to go to El Paso. One week from Wednesday.”
“Ten days from now,” noted Jack. “I wonder why then and not sooner?”
“I think because I’m supposed to make a delivery down there at the same time. He said for us to check in at a place called the Armadillo Motel and he would arrange for you to see him.”
Arrange for me to see him? Tio doesn’t plan on coming to the motel … “Have you used that motel before?”
“Yes, it’s the one we always stay at. It’s where Earl was before he took off to another motel last time.”
“Which you can’t remember the name of.”
“I think it had the word Sunset in it. Why is it important?”
“We want to make sure you’re not bullshitting us on anything. The boys will be checking you out to make sure you’re not trying to set us up for a rip or anything. I was told to get details. Any little details that don’t jive … ”
“God, no! After last night … man, I wouldn’t lie to you about anything. I’m being totally straight with you.”
“Good. Keep it that way.”
“I will.” Slater paused for a moment, unsure what to say.
“What’s on your mind?” prodded Jack.
“About El Paso … I guess we can drive down together. It’s best to leave on the Sunday when there is lots of border traffic. Less chance of being checked.”
“Fuck that. I’m not some flunky. I’ll fly down and meet up with you.”
“Oh … yeah. I guess that would be better.”
Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. It was not good news that the motel was one picked by Tio. It could mean they knew the owner and the presence of anyone there to assist Jack could put the investigation … and Jack, into jeopardy.
Let the games begin …
chapter eighteen
* * *
Monday morning was busy for Connie Crane. Given the short time frame, she classified her operational plan a priority and had it approved regionally before it was forwarded to Ottawa. She also made calls to the FBI and the DEA in El Paso. Neither agency had any concrete leads to identify Tio. There were lots of “uncles.”
The FBI said they would also check to see if any unidentified female bodies found in the area were a match to Lily Rae, as well as trying to locate the motel she had been taken from. Photos of the man who sneered at the apartment security camera were also transmitted to the FBI.
Wilson had news on two fronts. He said it took their mechanics five hours to figure it out, but by adjusting various knobs on the dash of Porter’s truck, a hydraulic system raised the rear deck of the pickup truck to reveal a hiding spot that was shallow, but took in an area almost as large as the box of the pickup itself. Plenty of room to hide a lot of money.
The second piece of news from Wilson was that enhancement of the security camera images from Porter’s apartment was not successful enough for positive identification of the second man, but it did show he was missing an earlobe.
Connie called Jack with the information and he quickly dubbed the second man Lobulo, after the Spanish word for lobe.
Connie sent an addendum to her operation plan, confirming the accuracy of the information Jack had received in regard to the hidden box on the truck, as well as forwarding Lobulo’s
photo to the FBI.
Before the day was over, Connie heard back from the FBI. They had located a motel on the outskirts of El Paso called The Cactus Sunset. The owner said a young couple had checked into a room twelve days ago on a Wednesday night, under the name of J. Roberts from Kelowna, Canada, and paid cash for the room. The owner of the motel said they left behind two suitcases. One full of men’s clothes and the other woman’s clothes. Neither suitcase had any identification. The motel did record the licence plate number when they checked in.
The FBI had already run the plate. It was registered to Earl Porter. The FBI would continue their search for possible witnesses, although said it was the type of place where couples often used false names.
The FBI also confirmed that Lily Rae did not match any unidentified bodies. Given the short time frame involved and her long, red hair, she would easily stand out. They had also checked with local hospitals in the event she had been admitted in an unconscious state, but were told she hadn’t.
The FBI agent did note the Cactus Sunset Motel was located on the edge of a desert. Disposal of a body would be relatively easy and the wind would quickly cover any tire tracks.
At the RCMP headquarters in Ottawa, the prioritized operational plan was accepted with little fanfare. Requests for Canadian investigators to travel to the United States were a matter of routine and the U.S. was always quick to give permission. Given the short time frame when travel would be necessary, a reply from the U.S. was expected either that afternoon or Tuesday morning.
This time was different. Approval did not come through regular channels, but a response came late Tuesday afternoon with a highly unusual request for a meeting between the U.S. ambassador in Ottawa and either the RCMP commissioner or a high-ranking officer if the commissioner was not available. A meeting was subsequently scheduled for eleven o’clock Wednesday morning when the commissioner would be available.
