by Easton, Don
“Which is our priority,” said Dan. “We’re spending all our time trying to take the guns off the street and work on the shooters.”
“Where do the shooters rank in the organization?” asked Connie. “I would think they would be revered as top dogs.”
Dan shook his head and said, “Not on the bottom, but not bright enough to ever be in charge. They’re mid-level status. At the moment, we’re too busy trying to keep a handle on them, let alone identify and work on the real leaders. Drug trafficking, prostitution, auto theft … all take a back seat to the indiscriminate shootings that are going on.” He looked at Jack and said, “Out of curiosity, do you think Satans Wrath could be instigating some of these shootings?”
Jack shook his head and said, “Satans Wrath aren’t impressed by indiscriminate shootings. It brings a lot of heat and is bad for business. At the same time, they appreciate the need to control and expand business. In some ways they’re in a catch-22 situation. They know that police resources are limited and that all these shootings will take the heat off of them. At the same time, they are losing money because of the turf wars and its negative effect on business. Until the turf wars are settled, I don’t think Satans Wrath will want to get too involved with who murders who. If history is any indicator, they will sit back and watch. Once the real victors are identified, they will step in and take over completely.”
“Gives the bikers a chance to see who is worth their salt,” concluded Dan.
“Exactly,” replied Jack. “I presume you have most of The Brotherhood listed on CPIC as persons of interest?”
“We do,” replied Dan.
“Could you include that I also be notified of any CPIC hits concerning them?”
“Consider it done,” replied Dan. “Hope you like to read. With the amount of people connected to gangs and their ability to attract police attention, you’ll be getting a lot of hits.”
The meeting adjourned with everyone agreeing to keep each other informed of anything that might benefit one another. Dan Mylo had no idea who Cocktail was and said it wasn’t a name that had come across any wiretaps or through any other sources. He provided a report from several months previous that showed Zack attending a noisy house party, but most of the people with him were teenagers who belonged to several different youth gangs.
After Dan left, Connie turned to Jack and said, “Any suggestions? It’s obvious that OCTF have their hands full already. I think we’re basically on our own.”
“One of the lab rats busted a year and a half ago has his trial in three weeks,” said Laura. “A fellow by the name of Kent Rodine. I talked to the narcs and they think the evidence is solid. Rodine was found inside the lab and his fingerprints are on the glassware. It’s a jury trial so you never know. If he does go free we could follow him to find out where he hangs his hat. See if he meets with Cocktail. If he doesn’t get off, maybe some of his friends will show up to see him off and we could follow them.”
“Three weeks!” said Connie. “On a case where they expect a conviction? I don’t want to rely on something that flimsy.”
Jack looked at Laura and said, “Let’s get more info on these gangs and watch how they deal. It might lead us to some of the labs.”
“I investigate murders, not dope dealers,” said Connie. “How do you go about it?”
“Through surveillance, arrests, informants —”
“I don’t have the time or the manpower for all that,” said Connie. “Even if I did, it would take a long time. Innocent people could be breathing in the fumes from these labs. There must be something we can do. Rodine and his buddies might not even be connected with Cocktail.”
“I don’t want to wait, either,” said Jack. “We need an informant on the inside.”
“Yeah, but how?” asked Connie. “You can’t exactly run an ad in the Vancouver Sun.”
“We need a clearer picture of what the meth situation is about,” replied Jack. “Meth is a massive problem. Did you know that B.C. currently supplies the majority of our planet in meth? Australia, Asia … you name it.”
“Heck of a thing for Canada to be known around the world for,” muttered Connie.
“We can thank our provincial judiciary for their leniency and lack of foresight for that,” replied Laura. “They aren’t known for seeing the big picture, are they, Jack?” She gave a wry smile at employing a phrase often used by Jack.
Jack shook his head and said, “We’re globally famous for both peacekeeping and supplying the world with methamphetamines. Hell of a combination. Men and women giving their lives for peace around the world while fellow Canadians destroy lives.”
“I don’t want to think about it,” said Connie. “Too depressing.”
“We do need to see the big picture,” said Jack, glancing at Laura. “We have to find out everything we can. I’ll check with Drug Section, VPD, and Toxicology to get info on anything to do with meth. This is the Easter long weekend. By Tuesday morning we should have enough reports to give us an idea of what is going on. Then we will target someone specifically. Maybe do a quick UC, buy some drugs and see if we can turn an informant. If we find one biker lab, surveillance may lead to more. Eventually we’ll find Cocktail.”
“Yeah … unless the bikers look at him as a loose end,” said Connie.
“If they did, VPD would have found his body in the alley alongside Varrick and Zack.”
“Too bad they didn’t,” replied Connie. “It would save us all a lot of time.”
“Starting to think like me?” said Jack with a smile.
“I hope not,” replied Connie, frowning.
“Even if he was dead, Satans Wrath would still have others running the labs,” said Laura.
The dismal tone of her voice brought a moment of silence as the investigators thought about the situation. The meeting came to an end with Connie agreeing to see what they could learn over the next few days.
On Friday night Jack and Natasha sat on the balcony of their condo overlooking the city lights while sipping on a glass of Glayva. Jack snuggled closer to Natasha on the love seat while swilling a taste of the Scotch-based liqueur around in his mouth. My life is great, he thought.
He glanced at his watch. It was nine o’clock. It was a moment in time that he would remember.
Ai-li Cheung walked over to lock the front door of their corner grocery store. Her husband, Frank, had already plodded upstairs to the second storey that was their home for the last thirty-seven years. The sound of the toilet flushing announced where he was.
Ai-li, at sixty-four years of age, was two months younger than her husband. They both planned to retire next year. Up until a few months ago, they always kept the store open until midnight, but the neighbourhood was not what it once was.
Port Coquitlam, less than an hour drive from Vancouver, was no longer a quiet neighbourhood where people knew each other. Shoplifters had become bolder. Empty beer and liquor bottles were often smashed in their small parking lot. Frank often threatened to call the police, but in reality, he was afraid that if he did, the store windows would be smashed in retaliation.
Times had changed from when they used to give free candy to neighbourhood children or run small grocery orders to some of the elderly who lived nearby. The elderly had moved on. Ai-li understood. She did not mind that they closed three hours earlier now. She was looking forward to the day they would close for the last time.
Ai-li was reaching for the door when it was yanked open in front of her. A tall, skinny man with droopy eyes stepped in, waving a syringe containing a bloodly liquid in her face.
“The money,” the addict said. He did not yell, but there was the sound of determination in his voice. “Or I’ll stick ya with this … and believe me, AIDS ain’t somethin’ ya want to have.”
Ai-li nodded her willingness to comply. She was too afraid to talk as she hurried to open the till. The addict followed, but remained on the opposite side of the counter.
“The money,” he repea
ted. “Hurry up.” He stared intently at Ai-li’s face as his body rocked back and forth.
Ai-li quickly took the money from the till and put it in a bag and pushed it toward him.
He remained rocking back and forth, staring at her.
“That’s all of it,” she whimpered.
He stared back at her in a stupor before his face contorted in rage. Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and plunged the needle into her arm, injecting the bloody liquid. “I told you to hurry!” he yelled, before letting go and stepping back, still holding the syringe.
Ai-li stood paralyzed in shock as the addict stepped back and waved the empty syringe in the air. The rage left his face and he said, “The money … or I’ll stick ya with this. AIDS ain’t somethin’ ya want …” He stared at the empty syringe and blinked his eyes in confusion.
Ai-li’s mouth hung open as she looked at her arm. “I did!” she cried, gesturing to the plastic bag.
Chapter Ten
On Tuesday morning, Jack listened to the details over the phone as the uniformed Mountie from Port Coquitlam told him about the robbery. As he listened, Jack thought about his own life and his time with Natasha on Friday night. Life can change in a heartbeat … value every second.
“Canine Unit tracked him down,” the Mountie said. “The guy does have AIDS, so I guess it’s a good thing the dog didn’t bite him.”
“AIDS cannot be transferred from an infected person to an animal,” replied Jack.
“Yeah? Good to know. Too bad it isn’t that way with people. Personally I cringe every time I have to arrest someone who is combative.”
“Don’t you pack a Taser?”
“Are you kidding? With the crap we get for using Tasers these days I’d be better off shooting them. Anyway, the guy wasn’t a problem. The asshole was so stoned he was lying in some bushes. Said he couldn’t remember if he dreamed he did it, or actually did. He had a small amount of meth in his pocket. CPIC says you are interested in him so —”
“Anyone talk to him to see where he got the meth?” asked Jack. “I’m trying to track down any labs or even rumours of labs at this point.”
“I don’t have any info on any labs,” replied the Mountie. “As far as where he got it from, you have to be kidding. Around here kids can buy that shit easier than they can cigarettes. If you want to know who the dealers are, go down to the schools and see who are driving the muscle cars. Sure as hell isn’t the teachers.”
“That’s a sad state of affairs.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve got kids of my own. As far as this guy goes, CPIC says he is gang-connected.”
“Bottom end,” replied Jack.
“You have time to work on the bottom end?” said the Mountie. “Must be nice, we don’t have the time or manpower to go after the bigger fish, let alone the small fry.”
“I understand,” replied Jack. He briefly thought about Varrick and his previous opinion that he was too small to work on. A four-year-old girl may die because I didn’t make the time.
When Jack hung up, he sighed as he thought about Ai-li. Bet she doesn’t think the guy who injected her was too small to work on …
Jack picked up the next report from a pile on his desk. It was about some youths were joyriding in a stolen car. They lost control and drove onto a sidewalk where a man was walking with his wife. He pushed his wife out of the way in time, but the car mutilated his legs against the side of a building. He would never walk again. The youths escaped, but a small quantity of meth was found in the car. The investigation was still continuing.
As Jack picked up the next report he glanced at Laura and their eyes met. “I don’t know how much more of this I can stand,” she said, gesturing to the reports. “Feel like a coffee?”
“You go ahead,” replied Jack. “To me, it’s like taking off a Band-Aid. Do you do it slowly or rip it off all at once? I prefer to get it over with.”
“Hadn’t thought of it that way,” replied Laura. She grimaced and continued reading.
Jack’s next report was about an incident in the early hours of Sunday morning. The police in Richmond were called by a husband to a domestic dispute. Their sixteen-year-old daughter, due home at midnight, arrived forty minutes late. His wife and daughter argued and the mother punched the girl in the mouth, breaking her tooth. The husband attempted to intervene, but his wife, who had prior convictions for prostitution and was addicted to meth, threatened him with a butcher knife. The man locked himself in the bathroom and used his cellphone to call the police. The mother was arrested and a small quantity of meth was found in her purse, along with a phone number for a known Brotherhood dealer.
Jack threw the report down in disgust and said, “A few years ago there were only a few labs. Today it’s everywhere. The Ministry of Health should list meth as an epidemic,” said Jack, facetiously.
“More like the World Health Organization should declare it a pandemic,” replied Laura. “You coming up with anything?”
“Nothing except a sour stomach. Doesn’t anybody care about what is going on?” he lamented.
“Someone does,” mused Laura. “I’ve got a Crime Stoppers report that indicates someone with a reliable history has been giving tips about drugs and dealers at Queen Elizabeth Secondary School in Surrey. Uniform has made several small-time busts.”
“Glad someone is doing their bit,” replied Jack, dismissing the information as his thoughts focused on the next report. A Dave Valentine of the Victoria Police Department had responded to the CPIC entry concerning one of the lab rats that Jack had arrested a year and a half ago. This particular lab rat was in jail, but Jack had listed him as a person of interest in the event he was granted day parole. Victoria PD reported they had heard he was receiving drugs while in jail through a Victoria dealer by the name of Cory McCall.
Jack called Valentine and learned that Cory McCall had a lengthy record, including seven previous drug convictions, three of which were for trafficking. He was currently on probation in Victoria and had only been released from jail the previous week. He was known to be a close friend of the lab rat and they had been in the same jail together.
“Cory isn’t a huge dealer,” said Valentine, “but he is a thorn in our side. Out only a week and we’re told he’s got dealers putting out for him all over town.”
“Meth?” asked Jack.
“No. Coke. Small amounts up to the pound level.”
“His friend in jail used to run a speed lab,” explained Jack. “Labs are what I am after. I’m trying to identify a person by the nickname of Cocktail who is connected with the labs and is likely working for Satans Wrath. Cocktail was involved in a murder of an innocent citizen who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Sorry, I don’t know of any labs and have never heard of Cocktail.”
“Any objection if I do a UC on McCall and try to turn him?” asked Jack. “If they were in jail together and are friends, McCall might know who Cocktail is.”
“I’d rather see the asshole busted and put back in jail. He has a dangerous reputation … but seeing as you’re talking about a murder, I don’t have any objections.”
“Good. Do you know where he hangs out at?”
“His dealers float around town, but usually on weekends McCall goes to a club in the basement of the Strathcona Hotel.”
“My partner and I will be over this weekend.”
“Like I said, he is dangerous. I think he has a screw loose. You’ll need a good cover team. We can help you with that.”
“Great. Really appreciate it.”
Jack’s next call was to Connie. She was in full agreement with the idea and reiterated that she was anxious to get something going rather than wait and take their chances when Kent Rodine went to court.
“This could be the one time the judge puts Rodine in jail,” said Connie. “Rolling McCall could be our best and maybe only option.”
At eleven o’clock on Friday night, Jack and Laura descended the step
s below street level into the club beneath the Strathcona Hotel. They had seen a photograph of McCall and knew that he was tall, tattooed, and had used his time in jail to lift weights. He was someone who would easily stand out in a crowd.
Once Jack’s eyes adjusted to the dimness of the lights, he saw that the majority of the crowd were young people who appeared friendly and were there simply to have a good time. Many were university students while a few were tourists who were checking out the nightlife that Victoria had to offer. There was no sign of McCall.
“Music is a little loud,” commented Laura as they took a seat.
“I agree,” replied Jack. “Some say if the music is too loud it means you’re too old.”
“Don’t even go there,” replied Laura. “No sign of our friend.”
“It’s early yet.”
Over the next hour the crowd continued to swell. Jack and Laura discreetly watched and eventually identified two or three drug dealers who were making frequent trips to the washroom with some customers or simply doing exchanges under the tables with others.
It was one-thirty when they spotted McCall saunter in and sit with two of the dealers. Jack saw them whisper and both dealers handed money to McCall.
“Bingo,” said Jack. “Time to score.”
Jack waited and approached one of the dealers after he left McCall.
“Hey, I moved from Edmonton,” said Jack. “Don’t know anyone yet.” Jack touched his nostril and said, “Do you know where a guy could get something a little stronger than booze?”
The dealer stared at him briefly, sizing him up, and asked, “How much ya lookin’ for?”
“An eight-ball,” replied Jack.
“Meet me in the can in three minutes,” said the dealer.
The transaction went smoothly and the dealer sold Jack one-eighth of an ounce of cocaine. Five minutes later, Jack returned and sat with Laura.
They watched as the dealer returned and spoke with McCall. Over the next hour, three dealers periodically met with McCall.
