by Don Easton
“I love it!”
“More than that, I’ve been able to connect some of the names on the documentation from the real-estate company as belonging to members of the West 12th Street gang out of Dallas. I’m pretty sure if I send these files to the right people, they’d request extradition on your two.”
“I might ask you not to do that,” Jack replied.
“You’re hopin’ to roll one of these guys to give you Pure E,” Adams guessed.
“You got it.”
“No problem. I’ll scan and send what Yolanda translated from Spanish, as well as copies of the transfers to the Caymans.”
“You okay with not using it against the West 12th Street boys? I know they’re badasses you’d like to put in jail, as well.”
“Their day’ll come. After what Pure E did to you, I’d say your need to get that asshole outweighs our needs down here.”
“Thanks,” Jack said. “Since I talked to you, he also had his guys drop Damien’s phone off in my mailbox. There were pictures of my wife and kids on it.”
“Christ, Jack! You can’t let him get away with that. If you do, it’ll give them the confidence to start murdering police officers and their families. You’ll end up like Mexico.”
“I won’t let him get away with it. We’re putting together a task force. His days are numbered.”
“Good. Adios, amigo.”
Jack told Laura what Adams had discovered.
“That’s absolutely perfect,” she said. “What now?”
“What now is we aren’t going home yet. Time to pay someone a visit.”
Chapter Thirteen
Lance Morgan answered his office phone on the second ring. “Good Times Amusement Centre.”
“You alone?” Jack’s voice was terse.
“Yeah, heading out in fifteen minutes. Who’s this? One of the guys?”
“Open your door to the alley.”
Jack hung up, and as he and Laura waited at the bottom of the two steps leading into Lance’s office, he could hear Lance moving around inside. Seconds later the door partially opened and Lance peeked out. “We need to talk,” Jack stated.
Lance opened the door halfway. Jack could see his scowling face.
Jack raised his voice. “Remember when you used to talk to us about the club?”
Lance’s scowl changed to alarm. He leaned out of the doorway, nervously checking to ensure nobody was within earshot. “That was years ago,” he hissed. “We’re even on that.”
“Let me refresh your memory,” Jack said more quietly. “Last time I caught you for attempted murder you agreed to wear a recorder and tip me off about other club members, remember?”
Lance’s voice was resentful. “How could I forget?”
“Then when I said we were even and shook hands, I warned you to keep an eye in your rear-view mirror because I’d be watching you.”
“I remember.” Now he sounded worried.
“We need to talk again.”
Lance looked silently at Jack, then at Laura. He was met with an unflinching gaze. “Yeah, okay. Can’t say I’m surprised you came by for a chat.” He stood aside. “Come in.”
On doing so, Jack saw Lance lean a baseball bat against the wall. Their eyes met.
“No gun?” Jack asked as he and Laura sat on folding chairs while Lance sat behind his desk.
“Ditched that years ago when you first met me in here. I was afraid you’d use it as an excuse to come back with a warrant — not that you’d find anything,” he added.
“To do that would risk burning you. You know I don’t operate that way.”
“I learned that after I met you. I wasn’t so sure the first time we talked. Plus, I’m a granddad.” Lance pointed to a photo on his desk of him and his wife holding their grandson. “He visits me here. I’d never leave something like that lying around.”
“Glad to hear it,” Jack replied.
“I take it this social call is about the message?”
Jack’s face darkened. “Which message you referring to? The one addressed to me in blood at the Barlow farmhouse or the one left in my mailbox with the pictures of my wife and kids?”
“None of that was my idea.” Lance scowled again. “We’re under new management.” He paused, then added, “I tried to talk him out of it.”
“You’ve got four kids, don’t you?” Jack asked. “Two of each?”
“Yeah, still got a son and daughter at home. They’re both going to university. My other boy is working in Alberta and my other daughter is married and lives close to us in Surrey.”
Jack nodded grimly.
“If you’re here to give me a message that I got family,” Lance said, “it isn’t necessary. I know what Pure E did was stupid and —”
“We’re here because we’d like your help again.”
Lance looked surprised. “No way. I may not agree with how things are being run, but they’re still my brothers. My days of ratting are gone.”
“You want to talk about Nighthawk Development instead?” Jack asked politely.
Lance gaped, then his face reddened. He hammered his desk with the bottom of his fist. “Shit!”
“Yes … shit. You’re in it up to your neck. So deep that Texas will ask for your extradition. They’re digging up evidence as we speak of the dope deals your club’s been doing with the West 12th Street gang. That includes how you’ve been laundering money through phony real-estate deals in Mexico and transferring the money to the Cayman Islands.” Jack leaned across the desk and showed him part of a text message on his cellphone. “Recognize your account number?”
Lance remained silent.
“Imagine the sentence you’ll get in Texas when they see you’ve got at least five million stashed away. You’d die of old age, if you were lucky, before you’d ever walk out of prison and be with your family again.”
Lance leaned back in his chair and opened his mouth to speak but then closed it. Using his thumb, he unconsciously twirled his club ring around on his finger. The image of the horned skull on the ring would disappear only to reappear with each twist. He then swallowed as he looked at Jack and Laura.
Jack leaned forward and picked up the picture from the desk. “Nice-looking grandson.”
“Fuck, no need to smash it,” Lance said. “You got me. I take it we can make a deal? Is it too late to stop Texas from goin’ after me, or am I gonna have to serve some time?”
Jack and Laura exchanged glances. Neither displayed any emotion. Man, we’re getting good at hiding our excitement, Jack thought.
“Come on, you guys!” Lance pleaded. “Don’t leave me hangin’. Can I deal it off completely or not?”
“You’ll need to deal it off completely. I won’t risk going for a reduced sentence, because it might burn you. Letting you off also means we have to let Whiskey Jake off. We can’t bust him without burning you. Same goes for seizing your money. We couldn’t do that without burning you, as well. That’s a better deal than Damien got.”
Lance nodded. “So in other words, I’d owe you big time.”
“Definitely,” Jack replied. “The only reason you’re not broke and on your way to Texas is I want Pure E more than I want you and Whiskey Jake combined. It’d be the same as before. You’d work for us until I feel you’ve repaid your debt. If you hold back on something or lie about anything … well, you know what’d happen.”
Lance seemed indifferent. “You treated me fair last time. I’ll be straight with you, so what you said doesn’t worry me.”
“And if you treat us fair, we’ll never burn you,” Laura stated.
“Yeah. I know that from before, too.” Lance looked at Jack. “Mind if I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead, but I may not answer.”
“The farmhouse … Neal, was he working for you?”
Jack set the photo back on the desk, then waited a beat. “What do you think?”
“I know you protect your sources better than that. I figure either it wasn’t him or he did something to piss you off.”
“You figure right,” Jack replied. “Which it was, I won’t say.”
Lance nodded. “One more thing — how the hell did you get the files on Nighthawk?”
“You didn’t know they were missing?” Jack said.
“No.” Lance paused. “Herrero — that fuckin’ Mexican lawyer — he musta been too scared to tell us they were gone. He told Jake and me they were stashed someplace safe.”
“Not safe enough,” Jack replied. “An anonymous person found them and passed them on to a friend of mine.”
“Anonymous person … yeah, right.” Lance stared at Jack. “So what do you want?”
“I want Pure E taken down hard. Real hard.”
Lance cleared his throat. “What he did — having the boys leave you a message at the farmhouse, pokin’ you by answering Damien’s phone, takin’ pictures of your family, all that shit — I tried to convince him not to.”
“He should’ve listened to you.” Jack paused. “Just curious — how did your guys find out where I lived?”
“Property tax records,” Lance replied.
“That figures.” Jack nodded.
“Pure E,” Lance said. “That fucker’s got no respect for anyone. He likes to rub it in that I’m getting old. Even calls me grandpa.”
“You are a grandpa,” Laura said.
Lance looked at the picture on his desk and gave a half smile. “Yeah … and I’m glad to be one.” His face hardened. “Pure E won’t be easy to get. He was recently voted in and it’s like the fuckin’ honeymoon phase. The majority think he’s great.”
“Then the majority need to be educated,” Jack asserted.
“I know. Whiskey Jake and I were talking about it the other day. Lots of the younger guys will think what he did is cool. Gives them the impression that we’re invincible and can do what we want.” Lance paused, seeming to contemplate something, then his eyes met Jack’s. “In the long run, getting rid of Pure E will be doing the club a favour. I’m fine with however you wanna do him.”
Jack nodded. He wanted the revenge he was about to exact upon Pure E to be brutal. Getting Lance on board was a plus.
Chapter Fourteen
Jack dug out his notebook, then glanced at Lance. “To start with, what can you tell me about Pure E in general?”
“He’s never been married and spends most of his time whoring around with Whiskey Jake.”
“Who’s married,” Jack noted.
“Not anymore,” Lance replied. “He’s divorced again.”
“Any particular place that Pure E and Whiskey Jake like to go?”
“A lot of nights they go to a nightclub called Pleasure Me on Burrard Street.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Laura said. “Mostly the under-thirty crowd from what I hear.”
Lance snorted. “That’d be Pure E. He likes the ones who have daddy issues.”
“Is Whiskey Jake still managing Satan’s Girls Entertainment Agency for the club?” Jack asked.
“Yup. It’s not a lot of work. He’s got a secretary. He told me he usually shows up at noon for a couple hours and that’s it. For him, going clubbing and partying all night with Pure E isn’t a problem.”
“With what Whiskey Jake runs, I thought he’d be supplying Pure E with women.”
“Yeah, Pure E dips into the coke sluts on occasion, but he prefers to go for the ones who aren’t into dope. Probably trusts them more.”
“I would’ve thought Whiskey Jake far too old for the crowd at Pleasure Me,” Laura said.
Lance shrugged. “Pure E likes him because the fat bastard makes him look good. That and he uses him to drive him everywhere. Whiskey Jake isn’t afraid to brown-nose, so the two of them get along well.”
“Okay, let’s move on to Damien,” Jack said. “What do you know about his murder?”
“I know Buck was the one to put a bullet in his brain.”
“Buck?” Jack glanced at Laura. He knew he wasn’t the only one shocked.
“Yeah, I feel the same way,” Lance said. “Havin’ a kid kill his old man as a test of loyalty doesn’t seem right.” He paused, then added, “Guess he passed with flying colours, though.”
“Were you there?” Jack asked.
“Nope, but I was there for the planning. “Last week, Thursday, I got a call at about 9:00 a.m. from Whiskey Jake. All he said was we should meet the next day and grab a smokie. Then —”
“The next day?” Jack interjected. “Thursday was when I called to warn Damien and Pure E answered. I presumed that was when he was murdered.”
“We always say one day later than a meeting really is in case we’re being listened to. Grabbing a smokie means it’s urgent and we’re to meet where we usually do at Stanley Park for a face-to-face. If it wasn’t urgent, he’d say grab a burger.”
“Where in Stanley Park?” Laura asked.
“Near the children’s play area beside Burrard Inlet. There’s a small parking lot north of it on the ring road. From there you walk down an incline to the play area, go under an overpass where the washrooms are, then out the other side. That’s where we meet. There’s a concession stand and picnic tables there.”
“And who was at the meeting?” Jack asked.
“Whiskey Jake, Pure E, Buck, the three-three, and myself.” Lance looked at Jack. “I’m presumin’ you know about the three-three and who’s in it.”
“I know about it, but refresh my memory about who’s in it,” Jack said.
“Floyd Hackman. He’s in my chapter. Then there’s Vic Trapp, Nick Crowe, who goes by Black Bird, and Pasquale Bazzoli. They’re in Whiskey Jake’s chapter, although Bazzoli lives in Kelowna these days.”
“Good. Continue.”
“Pure E said he got a call early that morning from Basil Westmount explaining how someone who worked for Vicki’s lawyer called his office and let it slip that Damien gave up that boatload of cocaine in exchange for keeping Buck and Vicki from going to jail.” Lance waited a beat. “Later Buck talked to Vicki and she told him she’d pretended to make the call from the lawyer’s office.”
“I discovered that when I called her lawyer’s office myself,” Jack said.
“She’s an evil bitch,” Lance said bitterly. “Damien was my friend. All he was doin’ was trying to save her and Buck from goin’ to jail.”
“Her day will come,” Jack told him.
“Hope so. Buck was pissed off at her when he found out. Said he hasn’t spoken to her since.”
Jack nodded. “So tell me about the meeting.”
“Right, so Pure E decided to have Buck confront his old man while wearing a wire so the three-three could listen. At first Buck didn’t believe his old man would do such a thing, but then he met him and he admitted it.” Lance stopped for a breath. “Not that the admission was necessary. There was no doubt in Pure E’s mind that Damien had blabbed, so he was dead either way. Buck would have been, too, if he hadn’t gone along with it.”
“So Buck was forced to shoot him,” Laura said.
“No, Buck said if Damien admitted it, then he wanted to kill ’im himself. It makes me wonder if Damien knew the position Buck was in. He might’ve been saving the kid’s life by telling him to his face and prompting him to do what he did.”
“And the body?” Jack asked. “Is it buried up on Sumas Mountain someplace?”
“The hit took place there, but the body would’ve been moved.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The last road leading up to Sumas Mountain is called Taggart Road.”
“So I heard,” Jack replied, irritated.
“Pure E la
ughed about it when he saw it. He said the cops would be tearing up the whole countryside along that road looking for his corpse, so I know it’s not there.”
“Homicide told me they did conduct a thorough search,” Jack admitted.
“The three-three suggested the area up there to wait while you were suckered into calling Damien to warn him. Right after your call, Buck shot him. Bazzoli and Crowe then disposed of the body, but how and where I don’t know. It isn’t something I could ask about, either.”
“Pure E must know,” Jack said.
“Nope. There’s no reason for him to know, let alone risk having his DNA tied into wherever it’s hidden. All Pure E said was he didn’t want the body found or word of Damien ratting to ever get out.”
“It would be bad for morale,” Laura commented.
“No shit. We’re letting it leak that Damien skipped town to avoid his money-laundering charges.”
“And you have no idea at all where his body could be?” Jack said. “Damien isn’t the first guy to disappear.”
“No, that’s for sure.” After a moment Lance suggested, “It could be somewhere else on Sumas Mountain. There are other roads up there. I doubt it’d be too far from there because the less time the three-three are packing a body around the better.”
“I’m surprised Pure E was involved as much as he was,” Jack said.
“Me, too. Maybe because Damien was special. In the past, if hits could have serious ramifications for the club, Damien would be involved at the exec level. Once a hit was approved, either Whiskey Jake or me would call Trapp and meet him to pass the order on. Trapp would then contact the other three and they’d come to the park to discuss strategy, like whether or not recon is needed. At that point anyone at the exec level would’ve already left. Pure E seems to be more hands-on, but I don’t see him changing the way things work when it comes to ordering hits.”
“Trapp works nights as a bouncer, doesn’t he?” Jack asked.
Lance nodded.
“Do the three-three ever meet him where he works? Perhaps in a back office?”
