by Easton, Don
“I had the distinct feeling you didn’t want me to lie to you.”
“Good. I hope we understand each other. Who knows, maybe someday you will trust me enough to tell me exactly what those omissions were.”
“I should put you in touch with Special Agent Adams on that issue.”
“Oh? Would he be more forthcoming?”
“On the contrary. He almost got in trouble for telling a friend something.”
“I see,” replied Wood with a frown. “Well at least I know you had nothing to do with Miguel and Ramiro.”
“Who are they?”
“Two Mexicans from the auto body shop here in Vancouver. The same shop where they took Slater’s truck, just before you left to go to El Paso. On Friday, the narcs followed them to Stanley Park and saw them meet Damien.”
“When I was being tortured, Big Al said, thanks to me, they were thinking of going into business with Satans Wrath.”
“Guess the business proposal the Mexicans offered wasn’t accepted. After the bikers left, the narcs found both Miguel and Ramiro in bad need of medical attention. They’re both still in hospital.”
“Did the Mexicans identify who did it?”
“No, they’re not that stupid.”
“Guess I should thank Damien.”
“He had a message for you, too. He said if you want to stay above ground, never to use his club like that again.”
“Yes, I figured he was irritated when he told Big Al to kill me.”
“I want you to go home for a couple of days. I’ll have the secretary type up your UC notes and forward them with the report. Ottawa won’t be happy you didn’t get permission, but I’ll do what I can to support you.”
“Thank you,” replied Jack, getting up.
“There is one more thing,” said Rose, “about your torture … the cattle prod … were you prodded where I suspect they would have prodded you?”
“Yes.”
“Explains why you passed out.”
“I’m glad I did.”
“Any long-term bad effects?”
Jack grinned and said, “The boys seemed to work fine last night. The only thing I wonder about is if I father another child, will it have really curly hair?”
chapter forty-nine
* * *
On Wednesday morning, Assistant Commissioner Isaac received a call from the commissioner in Ottawa, who skipped any pleasantries and immediately asked, “What are you doing about Taggart?”
“In what way?” asked Isaac.
“In what way? That is the question. I’d like him charged with a criminal offence.”
“A criminal offence? Are you questioning the validity of his report in regards to the seven bodies found at the house in Mexico?”
“No, not that, but I appreciate your thinking. I’ve already looked into it. Our liaison officer in Mexico City was contacted by a police commander in Juarez. One of his own detectives was one of the seven bodies they found. The commander wanted to thank us for the work we did in identifying the corrupt officer and also for finding the tunnel.”
“He wasn’t upset to find out a Canadian policeman had gone there without authorization?”
“Apparently not. The commander said he understood there were some tight time restraints and a life was at risk. Anyway, our L.O. asked him about the victim who was shot anally and the other victim who died of multiple injuries. The commander said it happens all the time where these guys get drunk and fight amongst themselves. Also the retribution on the other five men was predictable, considering the damage done to the cartel’s smuggling route.”
“So what criminal offence are you talking about in regard to Corporal Taggart?” asked the commissioner.
“Birds of a Feather. Taggart deliberately told the subject of a wiretap investigation there was a bug in the car. That is an offence. At lease it is in Canada. I’m sure it is in the U.S., as well.”
“Corporal Taggart was also targeted.”
“It doesn’t matter. Even if a criminal trips over a bug in his own house, it is a criminal offence for him to tell anyone else about it.”
“I don’t have any transcripts of the conversation that took place in regards to Birds of a Feather. Did Corporal Taggart actually tell Special Agent Adams there was an electronic eavesdropping device in the car?”
“Not in those words, but it was obvious he changed the conversation when Adams was about to tell him what he did.”
“That would hardly hold up in court.”
“That’s the problem. I said I would like him charged with a criminal offence, I didn’t say we could. You know Taggart … do you think we could get him to crack under interrogation or at least say something incriminatory?”
“I’m certain he wouldn’t. Look how it went with Birds of a Feather … and that was when he should have felt safe to talk openly.”
“This is really embarrassing. A national disgrace.”
“A national disgrace?”
“We sent Taggart down there for the purpose of helping the Americans catch their rogue agent. This was supposed to make us look good. Instead, this happens. They’re absolutely furious down there.”
“I thought the primary objective was to find the girl. Corporal Taggart did that,” Isaac said.
“That’s incidental. We didn’t even get any press on it. Right now the issue is Taggart. If we can’t charge him criminally, then at the very least, I sure as hell expect you to give him an official reprimand for his personnel file.”
“As you wish, but we still shouldn’t overlook that he did do an admirable job down there under extreme risk of his own personal safety.”
“Admirable job? What are you talking about? He went down there without authorization!”
“I don’t think Lily or her mother cares about that.”
“Who? Oh, them. That’s not the point. Besides, as far as rescuing the girl, Taggart simply got lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“It was a lucky coincidence for him that the Mexicans started fighting each other when he was rescuing the girl, or things might have turned out much differently. His overall stupidity and complete disregard for policy could have gotten them both killed.”
“There’s no doubt he placed himself at extreme risk.”
“You’re damn right he did. It was totally unacceptable. I have to go, but I want you to send me a copy of the official reprimand you put on his file.”
“Yes, sir.”
After Isaac hung up, he muttered, “Lucky coincidence?” and shook his head. His next telephone call was to Staff Sergeant Rose Wood, telling her he expected to see Corporal Taggart in his office first thing the following morning.
At eight-thirty Thursday morning, Jack entered Isaac’s secretary’s office and was told to go directly in.
Isaac sat behind his desk and with an angry nod, gestured to a chair across from his desk. After Jack sat down, Isaac said, “You went into Mexico without authorization … even after it was made totally clear in the operational plan that you were not to do so.”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“Did you even try to call anyone to gain permission?”
“No, sir, I did not.”
“Your behaviour was cavalier, irresponsible, and reckless. You not only risked your life, but the potential lives of other policemen who may have tried to save you because of the stunt you pulled.”
“Yes, sir.”
“What I am telling you is documented in writing before me. Sign it as acknowledgement you have read it, after which it will be placed on your personnel file.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Jack, taking the document and reading what he had been told verbally. He signed the bottom of the page and handed it back.
“That is all,” said Isaac. “Get out!”
As Jack was leaving the secretary’s outer office, her phone rang and she answered, then said, “Corporal Taggart, please wait a moment.” She spoke into the phone briefly and when she hung up she s
aid, “The assistant commissioner wants you to go back in.”
Jack sighed and went back into the office as the secretary closed the door behind him.
Isaac immediately approached him with his hand extended and said, “Jack! Good to see you! I wanted to tell you I think you did a fantastic job down in Mexico,” he said, smiling.
Jack accepted the handshake as he tried to figure out what was happening.
“I was so pleased to find out you were able to rescue Lily Rae.”
“It made me happy as well, sir.”
“At immense personal risk to yourself, I might add. As a member of the force, I have to say … what you did makes me feel proud.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Isaac handed Jack a document off his desk and said, “I have written a letter expressing my views for the purpose of placing it on your personnel file.”
Jack read the letter and saw it was filled with accolades.
“Thank you, sir. I don’t know what to say.”
The smile disappeared from Isaac’s face and he lowered his voice and said, “I would suggest you say nothing … ever. There is one more thing I want you to know … and it is to be kept strictly between us.”
“Sir?”
“It was not my idea to send you to El Paso. That decision was made in Ottawa.”
Jack felt stunned. Up until this moment he had thought it was only a coincidence he had been paired up with Adams. This was no coincidence … they were after me, too …
“You look surprised,” noted Isaac. “Did you think it was a coincidence you were assigned with Special Agent Adams?”
“Yes, sir, I did.”
“You, of all people, shouldn’t believe in coincidences. I know I don’t.”
epilogue
* * *
On April 10th, Jack and Natasha announced the birth of their second son, Steven Thomas.
Drug lord Rafael Aguilar Guajardo was assassinated by his under-boss, Amado Carrillo Fuentes, two years after the author worked on assignment in Ciudad Juarez.
Amado Carrillo Fuentes then died under mysterious circumstances while undergoing plastic surgery four years after taking power. His brother, Vicente Carrillo Fuentes, took over as head of the cartel.
Three years after the author met with Jose Refugio Rubalcava in a back alley in Ciudad Juarez, U.S authorities checked an abandoned car parked on the Bridge of the Americas. In the trunk they discovered the bodies of Rubalcava and his two sons. The cartel left the bodies on the bridge as a sign they believed Rubalcava had been talking to the Americans too much.
Vicente Carrillo Fuentes has been charged with the murders, but despite a $5-million reward posted for his capture by the FBI and a $2-million award posted by the Mexican authorities, he remains a free man.
At the time of this book’s printing, Vicente Carrillo Fuentes continues to remain in charge of one of two major cartels locked in a vicious battle for control of the drug market in the region.
Within the last couple of years, the murder toll in Ciudad Juarez alone has surpassed six thousand. With the increasing appetite of Canadian and American cocaine users, financial support for the cartels is growing … as is the ever-increasing greed of the cartels.
The continued acts of violence and murder involving innocent citizens are also expanding geographically. Recently in the United States, it was discovered Mexican cartels have been paying teenagers on retainer to commit murders, including the assassination of U.S. law enforcement officers.
The cartels are currently viewing Canada like a beach hawker views a new tourist.
Anyone interested in further information concerning the murders of the Rubalcava family, Vicente Carrillo Fuentes, or the impact the cartels are having on Canada, can find it at the following websites:
Amarillo Globe News: http://amarillo.com/stories/2000/ 09/15/tex_cartel.shtml
Corpus Christi Caller-Times: http://www.caller2.com/ 2000/september/15/today/texas_me/4249.html
Denver Post: http://blogs.denverpost.com/captured/2011 /12/21/in-focus-mexico-drug-war-five-years-later/5151/
Toronto Star: www.thestar.com/article/642966
Wikipedia: http://wapedia.mobi/en/Vicente_Carrillo_Fuentes
Chapter One
Paul Jennings stood in the lobby of the Redbury Hotel, located at the corner of Hollywood and Vine in Los Angeles. It was eight o’clock at night and his office was hosting a Christmas party in a banquet room of the hotel.
The party was well underway, attended by a crowd of about fifty people. Most were enjoying themselves, but not all. Two of the people invited were there to work. They were both professional killers … hired to do what they do best.
Jennings grinned and adjusted the Santa cap on his head when Tom Donald entered the lobby. As Tom walked past the Christmas tree in the lobby their eyes met.
Tom did more than grin back. “What the hell?” he laughed, pointing a finger at Jennings, before giving him a hearty handshake that quickly turned into a hug.
“Maybe it does look a little silly,” said Jennings, adjusting the cap again as he stepped back.
“It’s not the cap I’m laughing at.” Tom chuckled. “I figure you’re probably wearing it so I won’t know you’re bald.” Tom gestured at Jennings with a wave of his hand and shook his head. “It’s seeing you in a suit and tie that looks so funny. I never thought I would see the day.”
“Yeah, I know. Guess I do look a little establishment.” Jennings smiled and patted his cap. “And yes, I am going a little bald, but not as bad as you.”
“Tell me about it,” said Tom.
“Man, it’s great to see you again,” Jennings said warmly. “I couldn’t believe it when you called last night. It was right out of the blue.”
“I was sitting in my hotel room and got to thinking about the old days. I wondered whether you were back to this neck of the woods. I checked the directory and there were only two Paul Jennings. You were the first one I tried.”
“I’m sure glad you did.” Both men exchanged smiles and Jennings said, “Come on, no use standing here. Let’s join the party. We can do our catching up there.”
“You sure they don’t mind me crashing the party? I didn’t know I was supposed to wear a suit and tie, let alone an elf’s hat.”
“Don’t worry about it. You look fine. I spoke to my boss and he said you’re more than welcome.”
“Tell him I appreciate it.”
“And I might be short, but I’m not an elf. It’s a Santa hat.”
“Is that what they told you?”
Moments later, Tom found himself in a room where people mingled while clutching drinks in one hand and balancing finger food on small plates in the other. By the noise level, he suspected many of them had started the festivities much earlier. A few of the partygoers had ties hanging out of their suit pockets. It looked like they were on leashes.
Jennings bustled through the crowd and soon returned with a Budweiser for Tom and a glass of white wine for himself.
“So what are you doing now?” asked Tom. “This crowd doesn’t strike me as being Greenpeace and they sure don’t look like musicians.”
Jennings grinned and said, “I was hired two months ago. You’re looking at the new CEO of Pacific Ethical Fund Consulting Services.”
“You’re kidding? What do you do with them?”
“I check out opportunities around the world for investment companies. For people who have a conscience about where they put their money.”
“What do you mean? What kind of conscience?”
“To make sure the companies they are thinking of investing with aren’t running child sweatshops or making weapons. Next week I’m off to Panama to check on a fruit company.”
Tom nodded as he rubbed his chin. “Sounds good, what you are doing. I didn’t know Wall Street cared about such things.”
“A lot of people do. The Internet has really helped educate people about what goes on around the world. It’s nice to live off
your investments and enjoy your champagne and caviar, but not so nice if you know children are being killed because your money is building cluster bombs.”
“Good point.” Tom took a sip of beer as he studied his friend. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you would be involved in something like this. Last I heard about you was that you were marching down some street in Washington protesting the war in Iraq.”
Jennings looked sombre for a moment and said, “Yeah, shock and awe. What a bunch of crap that was. We should never have gone there. You Canadians were right to stay out of that mess.”
“I think so.” Tom gazed around the room and saw two men give a couple of furtive glances in his direction. He presumed it was because of how he was dressed and it made him feel self-conscious. The old sports jacket he was wearing was way out of date. Even when it was new, he would never have fit in with these people, who wore suits custom made by names like Hugo Boss, Gucci, and Prada.
Tom looked down at his well-worn shoes and subconsciously fidgeted with the keys in his pocket.
“You okay?” asked Jennings.
“I’m fine.” Tom took a sip of beer and glanced at Jennings and thought, He doesn’t belong here, either …
Tom’s glance didn’t go unnoticed. Jennings smiled and said, “Bet you never thought I would be hanging out with this kind of crowd, did ya?”
Tom grinned and said, “You read me like a book. That is exactly what I was thinking. These don’t seem like your type of people.”
“Yeah … guess I’ve changed,” admitted Jennings.
“Since when?”
“Since when we first met. Back in the old days at music college.”
Tom shook his head in disbelief. “We were just kids, but sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
“We were all living in that huge dorm down on La Brea.”
“How could I forget?” Tom nodded, smiling. “Right between Sunset and Hollywood Boulevards.”
