by Don Easton
“Two to three weeks,” Jack replied. “Specific targets will need to be identified and located.”
“Two to three weeks,” Isaac repeated. “I’ll be retired by then.” He cast a wary glance at Mortimer.
Mortimer hesitated, then nodded. “I agree they need to be looked at. Once I receive the plan, I’ll give it the urgency it deserves.”
“Okay, then,” Isaac said, refocusing on Jack. “How concerned are you? I see no problem with the force paying for you to have a home security system installed.”
“Do you really think that’s necessary?” Mortimer interjected. “I’d hate to set a precedent that every time a member feels uncomfortable he receives a free alarm system.”
“I already have an alarm system,” Jack said, looking at Isaac, “but thank you for the thought.”
Isaac stared quietly at Mortimer for a moment, then looked at Inspector Dyck. “Let’s discuss Damien Zabat’s disappearance and Corporal Taggart’s … qualified opinion that he’s been murdered.”
“Unless proven otherwise,” Dyck responded, “our office is treating it as a homicide investigation.”
“Good,” Isaac replied. “For a variety of reasons, including that Corporal Taggart’s informant was present during the murder of Neal, Robert, and Roxanne Barlow, he should not be directly involved in the investigation. That being said, I see no reason why Corporal Taggart couldn’t assist you with your investigation into Damien Zabat.”
“I agree,” Dyck replied. “As it would appear that Vicki Zabat is the one who set her husband up, I’m considering asking Corporal Taggart and Constable Secord to talk to her and see if they can get her to make an admission. Something we can get on wire.”
Isaac looked at Jack and Laura. “You know her. What do you think?”
“We can try,” Jack said, “but I’m not optimistic. She’s been around a long time and knows the game.”
“Give it your best shot.” Isaac glanced at Dyck. “I think we can adjourn this meeting as far as Assistant Commissioner Mortimer and I are concerned, but feel free to use this room to discuss strategy with everyone else in regards to how or when Vicki Zabat should be approached.”
“Yes, sir,” Dyck replied.
Isaac and Mortimer got up to leave the room, but at the doorway, Isaac looked back. “Corporal Taggart, please step out for a moment. I’d like to have a word with you concerning your attitude at yesterday’s meeting.”
Shit. I was hoping he’d forget about that. I already apologized.
When Jack met Isaac and Mortimer in the hallway, Isaac looked at Jack and said, “Your outburst yesterday was uncharacteristic. I appreciate that you were under extreme stress and had gone days with little sleep.”
“Sir, I’m still embarrassed by my conduct yesterday.”
“Today you appear to be completely in control of your emotions. Considering the threat made on you and your family last night, I’m sure that’s not easy.”
Crap, hope you’re not thinking of hiding me out among a herd of reindeer. “I believe it was simply an ill-conceived attempt at intimidation,” Jack replied. He glanced at Mortimer who looked at him stone-faced. “At this time I see no reason for any extreme measures to be taken.”
“Extreme measures?” Isaac gave Jack a hard look.
“Such as a transfer. I believe the best response is to go after the club from all angles.”
“I see. Good … I agree.” Isaac paused. “You’ve had a remarkable career so far and have overcome much adversity. I want you to know that you’ve earned my respect over the years.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I leave feeling confident that you’re completely capable of handling any obstacles or problems you will no doubt encounter in the future.”
Jack saw Isaac’s glance flick toward Mortimer as he spoke. Did you give me permission to “handle” this asshole, or are you warning me to be careful?
Isaac extended his hand and Jack shook it. Looking into Isaac’s eyes, Jack thought he discovered the answer. Both.
Chapter Ten
Jack caught Rose’s curious look as he returned to the boardroom. “Assistant Commissioner Isaac appreciates the stress I feel as a result of the threat made on my family,” he said, “and has forgiven me for the insolent remark I made to Assistant Commissioner Mortimer yesterday.”
“Insolent?” Dyck questioned.
“Our new assistant commissioner said we shouldn’t work on people who carry guns and told me the police should be called to handle those individuals. He also suggested Damien’s disappearance was a ruse to stay out of jail. I became sarcastic.”
Dyck looked stunned, then said, “I can assure you that there’s no doubt in my mind that Damien’s been murdered. They’d never allow him to get away with squealing about a tonne of cocaine.”
“I agree,” Hobbs said, “but murdered by who? And where’s the body?”
“It was likely done by their hit team, which they call the three-three,” Jack replied. “I’ll give you file copies so you don’t need to write it down, but in a nutshell, in this province the three-three comprises four men. One by the name of Pasquale Bazzoli, who is a butcher by trade, but recently moved to Kelowna and isn’t working at anything legit. He has a history from when he was a kid for torturing and killing neighbourhood cats and dogs. He’s long since graduated from people’s pets.”
“I often go to Kelowna to visit friends,” Randy noted. “Remind me not to buy any meat from him if he opens a shop there,” he added dryly.
Jack grinned. “The other three live in the lower mainland. Floyd Hackman works in construction and operates heavy machinery — like diggers. He has numerous convictions for assault, including bodily harm. Crim-inal psych reports from before he joined the club note he talked about what a thrill it would be to kill someone. When Desert Storm came along, he spent five years with the U.S. Marines. Following that, he spent two years as a prospect with Satans Wrath, then got his full patch about four years ago.”
“Join the U.S. Marine Corps,” Laura said. “Travel the world, meet interesting people … and kill them.”
Laura, that doesn’t sound like you, putting on a facade to hide your stress. You really do need a break. Jack cleared his throat. “Then there’s Victor Trapp. He’s into martial arts and has worked off and on as a bouncer at various bars. The fourth is Nick Crowe, who drives a tow truck.”
“Drives a tow truck,” Hobbs noted. “At least that doesn’t seem bad.”
“I should mention that Crowe has a brother who works for a demolition company,” Jack added. “I’m certain that Nick knows his way around explosives, too.”
Hobbs grimaced. “You got addresses for them all?”
“I do on Bazzoli and Crowe. The other two are always moving. Half the time living with strippers or hookers. Hackman belongs to the Westside chapter and the other three belong to the Eastside. The third Thursday of every month is church night for Satans Wrath. If you do surveillance of their clubhouses then, you might be able to follow these guys to their addresses, providing you’re lucky enough to see what vehicles they’re in.”
“Church night?” Hobbs looked bemused.
“Party night. Nothing illegal is discussed inside the clubhouse. They’re too bug-conscious. Mostly they’d discuss upcoming rides, paying club dues, and other general stuff that a legitimate club might talk about. These guys are always surveillance-conscious. The three-three won’t even say hi to you unless it’s approved by their lawyer.”
“Which is the criminal lawyer by the name of Basil Westmount,” Dyck said.
“‘Criminal’ being the operative word,” Rose said.
“What about Abe’s Furnace Repair?” Hobbs asked. “Isn’t that what you said was on the door of the van outside your house yesterday?”
“Likely a magnetic stick-on that’s easy to take off,�
�� Jack said. “To my knowledge, that business doesn’t exist.” He glanced at Hobbs. “Did you pull phone tolls off Damien’s number?”
“I did, but the phone was only put in service last Friday.”
“When we raided his house and turned him,” Jack said. “That figures. He wouldn’t want to risk me pulling intel off any other phone he used. It’s not uncommon for guys in his position to have more than one phone. One for idle talk and then disposable ones that few people would know the number to.”
“There were only three numbers that he called in the week on that phone. One was yours, one was to Vicki’s old number — which was terminated three days ago — and then there was a third number we haven’t identified. Vicki’s old phone also indicated calls to that same third number.”
“Likely Buck’s regular phone,” Jack said.
“Sort of what I figured,” Hobbs replied. “There were two calls placed yesterday morning from it. Both were triangulated to Damien’s house. The first one, at 10:00 a.m., was to a new number. The second call was right after to Damien’s number. Both calls were brief.”
“I bet the first call was to Vicki’s new number,” Jack said.
“That’s my guess. I was hoping I’d see her calling Basil Westmount’s number, but she didn’t make any calls after that.”
“Vicki’s too smart for that,” Jack said. “She would’ve used another disposable phone that nobody knew she had.”
“What’s interesting is that Buck called Damien right after,” Hobbs said. “Why make two calls? Couldn’t he have had Vicki pass her phone to Damien? Seems odd to me.”
“Maybe Buck was checking to see if they were both home,” Jack suggested. “Vicki might’ve said she was out when she wasn’t. She told me she visited her dad for lunch every day at his hospice. Maybe that’s what Buck expected. Then for him to call Damien right after …” He stopped talking as he pondered the possibilities.
“You think Buck helped them grab Damien when he thought the coast was clear?” Dyck questioned.
“I don’t know,” Jack replied. “Maybe he didn’t know what was going on. He might still not.”
“The thing is, if they took Damien and had him at the top of Sumas Mountain by noon, he’d have had to be out of the house soon after the calls were made,” Hobbs pointed out.
“You need to consider that Buck has been brainwashed, told all his life that the club comes first,” Jack said. “With Damien being national president, I’m sure the kid idolized him. If he found out that his father was an informant … I don’t know what he’d have done.”
“Damien only became your informant to save Buck and Vicki from going to jail,” Randy inserted. “You’d think Buck would realize that.”
Jack nodded. “I’m also curious that the phone wasn’t password-protected when it was put in my mailbox. I’m inclined to think Damien would’ve done so and I’m thinking that only Buck or Vicki might’ve known what his password was.”
A silence fell over the room for several moments as everyone doubtless pondered whether Buck could have set up his own father. At last Randy cleared his throat and said, “You know these guys better than we do, Jack. What do you propose we do first?”
“Well, I believe the three-three is the weakest link,” he replied. “They take their orders either from Pure E or through chapter presidents who have spoken with Pure E. Either way, the investigation will be long, require lots of investigators, and probably some luck. It may take a few times to find out where they dispose of their bodies.”
“Times?” Dyck repeated. “Are you proposing we let them get away with murdering someone simply to find out how they dispose of the bodies?”
“Sometimes it’s difficult to predict a murder,” Jack said. “There may not be time to save someone. If you do save them, it may mean there’s no evidence to charge anyone. If we get Pure E on a wire giving the order first, we could charge them with conspiracy, but I’m not optimistic that we’ll be able to do that immediately. I think the odds are more likely that some murders will take place during our investigation before we catch Pure E giving any orders.”
Dyck’s face darkened. “In other words, it’ll lead into what you on the intelligence unit refer to as ‘a delicate matter.’”
“Yes, or as Isaac later referred to it, ‘an indelicate matter,’” Jack said.
Dyck sighed. “No doubt tough decisions will have to be made. We’ll deal with them when they arise.” He looked at Jack. “I know you’re not optimistic about approaching Vicki, but I still think it’s worth a shot. We need solid evidence to link her. Without that we’re screwed.”
“Laura and I will try,” Jack said, “but if she knows we’re coming, she’ll be calling a lawyer. We need to catch her by surprise. Maybe when she leaves the house or goes shopping. She’ll be expecting us, so let’s give her time to relax, then approach her when she’s not expecting it.”
“Makes sense,” Dyck replied. “I’d also like to see if she reports Damien missing. If she does, fine, but if she doesn’t, how about approaching her a week from Monday?”
“Works for me.” Jack nodded. “Come to think of it, Laura and I’ll find out which hospice her father is in and approach her there.”
As everyone stood to leave, Hobbs said, “This is going to be one tough case to solve.”
“I think it’s already solved,” Laura stated. Her eyes met Jack’s. “It’s bringing the culprits to justice that’s the tricky part.”
Taking pictures of my family. Believe me, justice will be served.
Chapter Eleven
Jack sat down at the dining-room table and Natasha raised a glass of Pinot Noir toward him. “Budem zdorovy.”
Jack hadn’t learned much Russian from his wife, but that was one phrase he knew. Yes, let’s stay healthy. Their wineglasses chimed and he saw the candlelight glimmer in her eyes as she took a sip. I’m so lucky to have married you. I love you so much.
Years earlier it had been Natasha’s idea to try to set Friday night aside as “date night.” It was a shared moment each week that gave them time to unwind, reconnect with each other … and value their lives together.
Jack shared Natasha’s smile when Mike and Steve quietly passed by on their way to the family room to watch television. Friday nights, both boys knew, was time for Mom and Dad to be alone.
“It’s been quite a week,” Natasha noted. “Did you happen to check for mail when you came home? I decided that should be your job from here on in.”
Jack nodded. “That little surprise might turn out to be the biggest mistake Satans Wrath ever made.”
“You think the task force will harm them that much?”
“If it goes right across country, it could. At least it might set them back a few years, which would cost them a lot of money when others stepped in to replace them.”
“And the guy you call Pure E?”
“He’s the number-one target.”
Natasha looked silently at Jack.
“It’s okay,” Jack assured her. “Once it goes national … and likely international, they’ll be hit from all sides by dozens of investigators from numerous jurisdictions. Pure E will have a lot more on his mind than thinking about me.”
“Good. So no worries?”
“No worries. I promised you I’d deal with it.”
Jack grinned and looked at his plate. “This lasagna is delicious.”
“You haven’t tasted it yet.”
“Nothing beats your lasagna. It’s always delicious.”
“Thanks, but you’re still picking up the mail from now on.”
Early Saturday afternoon Jack received his third work-related call of the day. The first call had been from two undercover operators in the Drug Section by the names of Sammy and Benny; they called together. The second was from a retired operative by the name of Bobby. Word of the threat
against Jack’s family was spreading and all three volunteered to do whatever Jack wanted in regard to Pure E.
Jack thanked them, but said that an operational plan was being prepared and he was optimistic that they would soon have a task force fully dedicated to the matter. The third call was different. It was from his informant Weenie Wagger, a.k.a. Mack Cockerill.
“There’s somethin’ I’m gonna tell you,” Cockerill said, “then we’re done. You and I are finished.” His voice had a whine to it, revealing his stress.
“As far as I’m concerned, you fulfilled your end of the deal,” Jack replied. “A deal is a deal. We’re done.”
Cockerill’s sigh of relief was audible. “Good. Glad you agree.”
“You still popping pills and drinking heavy?” Jack asked.
“I did after Thursday — but who wouldn’t after seein’ people get lit up like that?”
“I warned you before about poppin’ pills. It’ll attract suspicion from the club, let alone the obvious health risk.”
“Health risk? Fuck, that’s a good one. The health risk was workin’ for you.” He paused. “Don’t worry, I won’t be messin’ my head up with that shit now that you and I are done.”
“What were you going to tell me?” Jack asked. “Although now that we’re done, don’t feel obligated to tell me anything.”
“I’ll tell you. It ain’t nothin’ you won’t find out about soon enough. Damien’s split the country. Gonzo. Don’t know where, but word is you guys’ll never find him.”
“Who told you?” Jack asked.
“Got it from the prez.”
“Lance Morgan.”
“Yeah, my prez. Westside. He popped in to see me unannounced yesterday. Think he wanted to see how I was doin’ after … you know, the farmhouse.”
“How were you doing?”
“I was sober. Too hungover from drinking all night Thursday.”
“Drinking doesn’t make it go away. You have to start thinking outside the bottle. Alcohol is a depressant.”
