Discreet Activities (Barry/McCall Series)

by Claude Bouchard

  The Krew’s presence and actions had had an increasingly negative effect in the area over time. Young and old alike feared walking the streets, even in broad daylight, property values plummeted and those trying to sell, even at much reduced prices were unable to find buyers. Gunshots were becoming commonplace and street-fights were even more frequent. Local businesses struggled and several folded. A few small business owners had stubbornly refused to accept protection and had subsequently been beaten, murdered or saw their livelihood literally go up in flames. The most recent such incident, a ground floor diner with four rented apartments on the two floors above had resulted in five deaths and three serious injuries, not to mention the loss of all belongings.

  Jae-Hwa’s favourite hangout was the Soul of Seoul, a bar and dance club located in a strip-mall at the corner of Henri-Bourassa and Lacordaire boulevards. Though on paper, the establishment was owned and operated by a couple of acquaintances, it was rumoured that Jae-Hwa had a substantial financial interest in the place which he sometimes jokingly referred to as one of his many Laundromats.

  Jae-Hwa was seated in his usual booth with a few of his underlings when the blonde walked in and headed to the bar, her favoured spot. Tonight, the model-like bomb-shell was completely clad in tight black leather, the three inch heels of her thigh high boots bringing her to close to six feet.

  “Damn, would I like to do that one,” Jae-Hwa sighed, gazing at her as she perched on a stool and waved at the bartender.

  “Why don’t you go talk to her?” asked Chul-Moo with a leering grin. “Are you scared of her?”

  Jae-Hwa turned sharply and frowned at his right-hand man. “I am scared of no one. Are you calling me a coward, Chul-Moo?”

  “Of course not,” replied the young man, his face etched with fear. “I was simply encouraging you to go speak to the woman since you have noticed and mentioned her several times.”

  “I do not need you or anyone else to encourage me to do anything,” Jae-Hwa hissed. “I do what I want when I decide. Never tell me that I am scared of anyone, man or woman, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Jae-Hwa,” mumbled Chul-Moo with downcast eyes. “I’m sorry, Jae-Hwa.”

  The gang leader sat fuming and sipping his scotch for a few minutes then said, “Move out of my way. I am going to speak to that woman.”

  He slid out of the booth in Chul-Moo’s wake and sauntered over to the bar by the blonde under the guise of getting another drink.

  “Lee,” he called to the bartender and co-owner, “Another scotch and make sure it’s Glenlivet this time. This is Canadian crap.”

  “Sorry, Jae,” Lee nodded, knowing that there had been no mistake with the current drink.

  Jae-Hwa turned his attention to the blonde and grinned. “It’s hard to get good help these days.”

  “Oh, is this your club?” Leslie asked, flashing him a killer smile.

  “Let’s just say that I am involved,” Jae-Hwa was modest, “In this and many other businesses.”

  “Well, you should be proud of this place,” Leslie complimented. “I’ve been here a few times now and I love the ambience, the music is great and I like how the dance floor is isolated so that we can chat up here without having to scream.”

  “Yes, the interior design and décor were mostly my ideas,” boasted Jae-Hwa, a smooth lie.

  “My, but you’re very talented,” Leslie praised as she casually touched his shoulder. “Congratulations. I had noticed you in the past but hadn’t realized who you were.”

  “I’m touched that you had noticed me. I must confess that I had noticed you too but, where are my manners,” Jae exclaimed as he slapped his forehead. “I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Jae-Hwa.”

  “Echanté, Jae-Hwa,” Leslie purred, offering her hand. “My name is April.”

  “I am honoured to meet you, April,” the Korean bowed as he took her hand. “Do you mind if I join you, now that we’ve finally met?”

  “I’d be very pleased if you did,” Leslie replied then gestured towards his booth with a subtle nudge of her head, “But I wouldn’t want to take you away from your party.”

  “They will not miss me,” he laughed, pleased that her hand remained in his, “And I am certain that you will be much more pleasant company than they are.”

  “Be careful what you say, mister,” said Leslie, winking, “Cuz I’m a sucker for flattery.”

  They continued their tête-à-tête at the bar for a while as Leslie progressively flirted, verbally and physically, touching his arm, patting his chest, brushing his thigh.

  “Uh, is there anywhere we could go that’s a little more private?” she murmured after twenty or so minutes.

  A shiver of pleasure engulfed Jae-Hwa as he felt her fingernails slide from his knee on upwards, rather high up then back.

  “We could go in the office,” suggested the gang leader after clearing his throat. “It’s very comfortable and private.”

  “Comfortable and private is exactly what I had in mind,” Leslie whispered in his ear before gently biting its lobe.

  “Lee,” Jae-Hwa called out as he waved the man over. “We’ll be in the office for a while and we don’t want to be disturbed.”

  “No problem, Jae,” Lee replied then nodded and smiled at Leslie, “Miss.”

  “This way, pretty lady,” said Jae-Hwa, holding his arm out to her.

  They made their way to a hallway by the booth where Jae-Hwa’s cronies sat which led to the washrooms and closed door beyond. The Korean unlocked the door and opened it then, with a gallant bow and wave of the arm, invited Leslie into the warmly appointed den-like room with its hardwood floors, Persian rug and leather furniture.

  “Wow, this is nice,” Leslie cooed as she slid onto couch. “Don’t forget to lock the door.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jae-Hwa laughed. “It’s already done.”

  “Good boy,” said Leslie as she patted the couch beside her. “Now come and sit.”

  Jae-Hwa obeyed and Leslie immediately swung over, straddling him as she slid her hands behind his neck and gazed into his eyes, her lips inches from his.

  “Whoa, you don’t waste any time, baby,” Jae breathed then stiffened and slapped a hand to the back of his neck as Leslie slid off of him. “What the fuck was that?”

  Leslie stood as she gazed down at him with a neutral expression. “Are you familiar with puffer-fish or Conus snails?

  “Wha th fug yo tawgin bou?” Jae-Hwa slurred as he tried to get to his feet only to realize his muscle response was rapidly diminishing.

  “Don’t worry, we’ve got a bit of time for me to explain,” said Leslie, watching the man slump helplessly back onto the couch. “These, as well as a few other sea-dwellers carry a toxin called Tetrodotoxin. In layman’s terms, this toxin will paralyze one to death if received in sufficient quantities. I just injected you with a sufficient quantity so you’ll be dead in a few minutes.”

  “Wha… muh… gggah,” Jae-Hwa spluttered, drool spilling down his chin as he stared at Leslie, his eyes filled with rage and fear.

  “It’s not as much fun when you’re the victim, is it, Jae-Hwa?” asked Leslie as she removed her reversible leather jacket and turned it inside-out, transforming it from black to white. “That was a rhetorical question. No need to answer.”

  Now completely paralysed, Jae-Hwa started gasping for breath as the toxin continued on its deathly journey through his bloodstream.

  “I see that you’re on your way out so I guess I should be leaving too,” said Leslie, removing the blonde wig and stuffing it in her purse before letting down and shaking out her natural red mane. “I’ll use the back door to the alley, if you don’t mind. I wouldn’t want to alert your Krew buddies in the bar. It was a pleasure to meet you, Jae-Hwa.”

  She turned and headed to the rear door on the opposite wall, pushed on the crash bar and walked into the frigid night air where a silver-grey Lexus GX460 Ultra Premium waited with idling engine a short distance down the alley. The
SUV moved forward, stopping just as Leslie reached the passenger door. She quickly climbed in and the 4x4 rolled off.

  “And, how was your evening, my dear?” asked Chris as they disappeared into Montreal’s traffic.

  “You know how it is,” replied Leslie, “Work, work, work.”

  “That’s true,” Chris nodded, “But it makes a difference when you like your job. It just doesn’t seem like work then.”

  “You’ve got a point, and I do love my job,” Leslie agreed then flashed a big smile, “And tonight was a complete success.”

  Chapter 4 – Friday, January 7, 2011

  “So, our little lady pulled it off,” said Jonathan as Chris ushered him into the penthouse condo on Nun’s Island, the Barrys’ home away from home in Montreal.

  “Leslie’s a natural,” Chris replied. “She was smooth as silk from start to finish. I wish we’d been able to get it on camera rather than just with a mike. Jae-Hwa never saw it coming.”

  “And now the Korean Krew has lost its head,” Addley nodded, “But I’m still concerned about Yeon-Ahn Chul-Moo, Jae-Hwa’s second in command. He’s not as bright but he’s still a dangerous bastard and is respected by the other gang members.”

  “What if something happened to him?” Chris suggested. “How would they hold up?”

  “If Chul-Moo was gone as well, the Krew would be toast,” Addley replied. “Even with him running the gang, the cops will be turning up the heat and hitting them from all sides by the beginning of the week, if not sooner, and the competition is surely already looking at the prospect of newly available territory.”

  “So, even if the Krew disappears, some other gang will simply move in and take their place,” Chris shook his head.

  “True,” Jonathan admitted, “But I don’t know of any other gang likely to take over that’s as violent as the Krew was. Sure, the drugs are going to keep on flowing and there’ll still be prostitution but the whole protection scheme will go out the window. Store owners will be able to relax and the local residents will soon be walking the streets feeling a hell of a lot safer than they do now.”

  “Which is a good thing indeed,” Chris agreed. “Why don’t we take care of Chul-Moo and make the world a better place?”

  “If we do, we should move fast, hit while they’re still in shock,” Jon replied. “Are you volunteering?”

  “I was planning to drive back to Knowlton today,” said Chris, “But when I spoke to Sandy this morning, she suggested she’d head down here tomorrow instead. She’s got some shopping to do and feels like a weekend in the big city. That said, I’m free tonight.”

  “Sounds good,” Jonathan nodded. “I’ve got to go to the office for a bit so I’ll get us some intel while I’m there. Can we meet back here later this afternoon and work out a plan?”

  “Sure. I’m not going anywhere so whenever you’re ready. Think we need anybody else?”

  “Nah,” Jonathan grinned. “In fact, you could probably do this yourself but I’m growing more concerned about you as you get older.”

  “Yeah, right, old man,” Chris laughed.

  “You won’t be laughing once you’ve seen me handle this guy with my walker,” Addley snorted.

  “You wish. I’ll get him with my cane first,” Chris countered, ending the rally. “Any developments in Sutton?”

  “I’ve had a couple of people borrowed from the RCMP keeping a loose tail on our friends for the first few days. The boys have been spending their days on the slopes and stopping at the same grocery store and liquor store as required on the drive back so we’re now hooked up for visuals at all three locations, parking lot at the ski hill and inside and outside at both stores,” Jonathan explained. “They’ve been spending their evenings at the cottage watching television, horsing around and bickering about fidelity to Islam. The way I see it, Buzdar and Darzada are on a recruiting/converting mission with the other two and I believe they’re slowly winning.”

  “In what sense?” Chris asked.

  “They’re breaking the other two down,” Jonathan replied, “Explaining how it’s more important to walk the walk, not just blab about it. They’ve been stressing over and over about their whole blend in theory to become invisible within the population by acting like the norm and they even got Jamali and Talpur to knock back a few drinks last night.”

  “We’ll keep on watching them,” Chris shrugged. “The place is rented for two months.”

  “That we will,” Jon agreed. “Since nothing happened on New Year’s Eve in New York City, they were obviously bluffing. However, I doubt they rented the cottage simply for leisurely purposes. They may be planning an attack over there and just threw December 31st in as a diversionary tactic.”

  “As I said, we’ll keep on watching them,” Chris replied, “Especially if they start building bombs.”

  * * * *

  It was close to two in the morning when Yeon-Ahn Chul-Moo hung his ski jacket on the coat-tree in his apartment, still rattled by Jae-Hwa’s death the night before. He had met with several Krew members during the day and evening and more than one had questioned as to how their leader could have been killed on home turf, at the Soul of Seoul, no less, right under Chul-Moo’s nose. He had argued, forcefully and sometimes angrily, how Jae-Hwa’s death was not his fault or responsibility.

  It was not the first time the gang leader had taken a woman of his choosing to the office for some private business. In fact, he had pointed out, it had happened on various occasions when any one of the other Krew members were present. Nobody had ever dared challenge Jae-Hwa, even for his own safety, had they? To be truthful, not one of them, himself included, had ever considered the boss might be in danger on any such occasion. They also did not know for certain that Jae-Hwa had in fact been murdered as there had been no wounds on his body. They would only know once an autopsy had been performed, if they could obtain that information. However, the blonde had disappeared, obviously having left by the back door, and Chul-Moo privately believed she was responsible for their leader’s death.

  The others had grudgingly agreed with his reasoning after a while but had left Chul-Moo with the clear impression they did not respect him as much as he had thought they did. In fact, he himself was not completely confident of being able to assume leadership but he dared not make such an admission to anyone. After all, did not his own name, Chul-Moo, mean weapon of iron? As such, he would keep his feelings of inadequacy to himself and hope that his confidence would grow with time.

  He had limited his drinking throughout the day and evening in order to keep his head straight and his thoughts lucid. Now however, home alone, he felt that he could use some stress relief and headed into the kitchen where he filled a highball glass with scotch over several cubes of ice.

  ‘A couple of lines won’t do any harm either,’ he thought and moved to the living room where he kept his stash hidden in a bookcase.

  He turned on a light as he entered the room and stopped short before the two men seated comfortably as they waited.

  “Good Evening, Chul-Moo,” said Jonathan as he rose to his feet.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the Korean asked, thinking of the Beretta, still in his ski jacket, and the small handgun laying in a drawer in the kitchen which he had just left.

  “We’re here about Jae-Hwa’s murder last night,” Jonathan replied.

  “Who are you? Cops?” Chul-Moo demanded, weighing the risk of attempting to escape or at least trying to get to a weapon.

  “Why don’t you have a seat?” Chris suggested from where he sat as he levelled the Korean’s own pistol from the kitchen, a .22, at him. “You can have the recliner. Make yourself comfortable.”

  Reluctantly, Chul-Moo made his way to the chair and dropped into it.

  “You look tense, my friend,” said Jonathan. “Tough day out there today? Go ahead and enjoy your drink. It’ll help you relax.”

  “I’m not thirsty anymore,” Chul-Moo shot back in defiance. “Now, who are you and what are
you doing in my home?”

  “Drink your scotch, buddy,” Chris ordered. “I insist.”

  The Korean glared at Chris then at the gun pointed at him before taking a sip.

  “Come on, be a man,” encouraged Jon. “A tough guy like you should be able to knock that back so, knock it back, now.”

  With little other option, Chul-Moo raised the glass and drained it in a few gulps.

  “Happy?” he muttered as he put the glass down on the coffee table before him.

  “Damn, Jon,” said Chris. “The man’s glass is empty. You should get him a refill.”

  “Excellent idea,” Jon replied as he headed for the kitchen. “Where are my manners?”

  He returned with the bottle of scotch and refilled the glass to the brim. “Drink up, my friend.”

  They watched as Chul-Moo drained the glass, a little more slowly this time but quickly enough just the same.

  Once the empty glass had returned to the table, Chris asked, “Do you have any coke here, Chul-Moo?”

  “What do you mean, coke?” the man asked with uncertainty, the liquor starting to take effect. “Coca-Cola? Maybe in the fridge.”

  “Cocaine, you idiot,” Chris laughed. “We know that you like your cocaine so, where do you keep it?”

  “I don’t have any cocaine,” denied Chul-Moo. “Drugs are illegal.”

  “Aww, come on, buddy,” Chris urged. “If you don’t tell us where you keep your coke, we’re going to have to bust up your place looking for it. You don’t want that, do you?”

  Feeling the effects of the alcohol more by the minute, the Korean shook his head and muttered, “Bookcase, bottom shelf, behind the big red book.”

  Jon retrieved a small metal box in which he found a bag of coke, perhaps a half ounce, a miniature cleaver and a silver snorting tube. The mirrored lid of the box served as a cutting tray.

  “Nice little kit you have here,” he complimented as he dumped out some coke and got to work.

  After having put together four hefty lines, he picked up the tray and silver straw and held them out to Chul-Moo. “Here you go. Indulge yourself.”