by Don Easton
Laura made a face. “Can you at least tell me who the third target is?”
“Someone far worse than Pure E,” he said bitterly.
“Worse?” Laura gave an unladylike snort. “I don’t think such a person exists.”
“Pure E is only one criminal. How about the man who wants to stop us from catching Pure E or others like him?”
Laura’s face paled. “Mortimer?” she breathed.
“Forget the popcorn.” Jack’s voice was harsh. “Let’s go for a drink and I’ll tell you about my plan.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
The following day Jack was in the office when he received a call he’d been anxiously awaiting.
“The three hundred keys of weed will arrive tomorrow morning,” Lance said bluntly. “I don’t know from where ’cause that ain’t my concern. Could even be from more than one grow-op.”
“You have the details?” Jack asked.
“Enough for you to do your thing. A truck’s delivering it to some mall near Abbotsford at 10:00 a.m. A prospect from Whiskey Jake’s chapter by the name of Daryl Voggel is looking after it and will oversee the exchange. It’ll be split in half and two guys will mule it from there.”
“What two guys?”
“Dunno their names. One’s from Calgary and he’s taking it back with him. He’s friends with Voggel and will be staying with him while he’s here. The other guy’s from Prince George. Got no info on him.”
“Abbotsford’s about an hour’s drive from here,” Jack noted. “There are a few malls there. No thoughts as to which one?”
“No, but probably close to the Trans-Canada so it’s easier to get in and out of. Lance paused. “I suppose you already got Voggel’s address? All I know is he lives in Port Coquitlam.”
“Yup, he does.”
“Remind me to call you at Christmas if I need to update my mailing list.”
Jack smiled.
“Voggel will meet the guy from Prince George tonight. I can’t get any more info without drawin’ heat. Especially if you bust them at the mall.”
“I’ll let the one hundred and fifty keys to Prince George go, but bust the Calgary shipment and throw the heat back that way.”
“Fine by me.”
“Does the cash change hands when they pick up?”
“Not on the Calgary end. That’s taken care of by our club there. They’re going to send us some meth later on to pay for it. Prince George is different. That guy’ll pay when he picks up.”
“What about the one hundred and twenty keys of blow you’d said your prospect, Buster Linquist, was handling?”
“It’s due to arrive a week today. Probably late afternoon.”
“Tuesday, October 28,” Jack noted. “Is Shane McRooney still the mule?”
“Yup. I’ll be getting delivery updates so I’ll give you a heads-up the day before he arrives.” Lance paused. “You gonna bust him on the highway before he arrives?”
“No, I’ll seize the coke after it arrives.”
“That’s smarter. What with the phony paperwork, it’d fool a judge or jury into thinking he didn’t know what he was haulin’. It’d be better to wait until you see Buster comin’ and goin’ so that you’ll know the trunks’ve been opened.”
“I don’t plan on arresting anyone for the coke. I’ll also direct the heat to Montreal.”
“Not arrest anyone? You’re gonna try and turn McRooney? He can’t help you. All he could give you is Buster and if you wait and nail Buster, there’s nobody he could give you except people under him. That’s if he’d even co-operate, which ain’t likely.”
“Seizing the coke without making any arrests is part of a bigger picture. I won’t try to turn or bust either one of them. My goal is to build trust.”
“Trust? With who?”
“Pure E.”
“Pure E? What the fuck?”
“It’s part of a bigger picture. I won’t get into that with you yet. How long before you expect Buster to be into the stash?”
“The storage locker closes at six for the night and it may be almost that before McRooney gets here and unloads. I expect the action’ll start the next day.”
“Good. I’ll tell you this much about the bigger picture. You’re going to hear there’s a dirty cop. Don’t worry about it. It’ll be me.”
That night Jack and Laura saw a car parked at Voggel’s address that was registered to a Martin Rondel with a Calgary address. Another car arrived later and was registered to a Thomas Bailey with a Prince George address.
At 9:45 a.m. the following day, Jack and Laura, each in a separate vehicle, followed Voggel, Rondel, and Bailey, who all drove to the High Street Shopping Centre located alongside the Trans-Canada Highway in Abbotsford. The three men parked and then went into a coffee shop.
At 10:30 a.m. they saw their three targets, along with a fourth man, exit the coffee shop. The stranger went to a van and drove it over to where Rondel and Bailey’s cars were parked. Meanwhile Voggel watched from his vehicle.
Moments later several duffle bags were transferred from the van to the trunks of both cars. The van left and Rondel and Bailey drove away soon after, but Voggel remained parked, speaking on his phone. He also appeared to be looking around, and Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as they waited.
Laura lowered her binoculars. “Couldn’t see the plate on the van,” she relayed into the phone. “How about you?”
“Negative. Don’t worry about it. Sit tight. Voggel is watching the lot. ”
“Would’ve been nice to have a proper surveillance team. Might’ve even have seen Voggel collect the money inside the coffee shop.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jack said. “We’re not going to court regardless.”
“Only because of Mortimer. Instead of getting four guys, we have to settle for one. You going to call Crime Stoppers?”
Jack had no time to answer. “Voggel’s leaving,” he said. “Let’s get out on the highway and make sure Rondel’s on his way first.”
Voggel took the ramp heading west on the Trans-Canada toward Vancouver while Jack and Laura headed east. They soon caught up to Rondel and Bailey, who were both travelling within the speed limit.
“Perfect,” Jack said. “In about an hour they’ll be at Hope. Bailey will take the exit to head north while Rondel heads east to Calgary. I’m hanging up to call the tip line.”
“Love it when a plan comes together,” Laura said.
Jack made his anonymous call to Crime Stoppers. He told them that Martin Rondel would be on the highway leaving Hope in about an hour on his way to Calgary and that he had one hundred and fifty kilos of marijuana in his trunk. After describing Rondel’s car, he mentioned he’d have more information for Crime Stoppers in the future and was assigned an identity number for future reference.
An hour later Laura saw a marked patrol car pull Rondel’s car over east of Hope. Seconds later Jack also passed the patrol car and noted a second patrol car arriving. He felt pleased and called Laura. “Okay, time for me to call Whiskey Jake.”
Whiskey Jake entered the office at the Satan’s Girls Entertainment Agency and nodded at the secretary. She pushed her takeout order of Chinese food aside. “Hey, Jake. Got somethin’ for you.” She then handed him a padded manila envelope. “It’s a phone. Someone shoved it through the mail slot in the door last night.”
“A phone?”
“I heard it ring at about 9:00 a.m., then again an hour later.”
Whiskey Jake examined the envelope. A typed sticker read PRIVATE: ONLY TO BE OPENED BY WJ. He frowned as he carried the envelope back to his office. Using disposable phones was the norm for club members, but they weren’t usually delivered in this manner. He opened the envelope and took out the phone and looked for a note. There wasn’t one, so he set it down. Moments later it rang. The display said
the number was blocked. He answered it.
“You alone?” a man asked.
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“I’ll tell you in a sec, but not if you’re inside a building. Go outside so I know there’s nobody listening on your end … if you get my drift.”
A moment later Whiskey Jake stepped out onto the sidewalk. “Okay, I’m clear. Who’s this? I don’t recognize your voice.”
“I’m a cop.”
“Yeah, right. Pretty funny. No … who is this?”
“I’m an RCMP officer. I work out of ‘E’ Division Headquarters.”
“What the fuck?”
“I got some information to pass on to you. All you gotta do is listen. I’ll call you again in a day or two. At that time if you decide what I’m about to tell you is worth something, I’ll continue to pass stuff on to you. If not, you’ll never hear from me again.”
“I don’t understand. I’m an honest businessman. I’m not involved in —”
“Shut up and listen. You’re not incriminating yourself if you keep quiet.”
Whiskey Jake paused. “Okay … talk.”
“The heat is really being turned up on you guys. This morning the narcs watched a weed deal go down in Abbotsford. It involved one of your guys. Someone by the name of Voggel. Also a guy from Calgary by the name of Martin Rondel. They said he came out to pick up one hundred and fifty keys of weed.” Jack waited a beat. “You listening to me?”
“I’m listening, but I’m not saying anything and don’t know anything about it.”
“You don’t need to say anything. The investigation started in Calgary, but they want you guys to think uniform stumbled on it. They’re going to have Highway Patrol bust Rondel on his way back. Probably near Hope. I tried calling you earlier, but you didn’t answer. Might be too late to save Rondel, but there’s that other guy.”
“What other guy?”
“Surveillance said they spotted another guy picking up at the same time as Rondel. From what I heard he’s from Prince George. They plan on following him when he arrives in Prince George in the hope of busting more people to build a conspiracy. There’s nobody following now because it’s about an eight-hour drive. They just called ahead to have a team waiting when he arrives.”
“You a narc?” Whiskey Jake asked.
“Nope. I’m in a more valuable position than that. My job is being a bum-boy for the brass. Sending out snot-o-grams to members over policy errors or briefing the brass on things going on they should know about. Pretty much anything of importance is funnelled through me or a couple of others. I never leave the office, but I know pretty much everything. When I call again, I expect to get paid what you think it’s worth.”
“You trying to get me for bribing a police officer?” Whiskey Jake asked suspiciously.
“Are you kidding? I don’t even want to meet you. That being said, should someone leave a fat envelope that I find someplace, it’d make me happy. We can talk about that another time. This isn’t a one-time thing. We got a new boss. Assistant Commissioner Mortimer. He’s got a bee up his ass because of those stunts you pulled on Taggart in the intelligence unit.”
“Dunno know what you’re talking about.”
Jack chuckled. “Yeah, sure you don’t. It worked on Taggart. He doesn’t want anything to do with you guys. He’s cleaned up his appearance and looks like a Jehovah’s Witness — but Mortimer’s another story. He’s top brass and has organized a Canada-wide investigation against your club. It’s already picking up steam and will be going international. Money and resources from other investigations will be reassigned to work on you guys. I’m telling you, I am in a position to help you” — Jake emphasized every word — “providing you make it worth my while.”
“The cops are always working on us,” Whiskey Jake said disdainfully.
“Never like this. You’ll need me. Treat me good and I’ll treat you good.”
“You, uh, think my office is bugged?”
“Not by the RCMP. At least, not yet, but I don’t generally have access to what Vancouver city cops are doing. One more thing. If even the slightest rumour spreads about me feeding you info, I’ll never call again. Same thing goes if you ever try to find out my name. Your club doesn’t have any rats that I know about, but I’m not taking any chances. Don’t tell anyone about me! You got it?”
“I hear what you’re …”
But his caller had hung up.
“He go for it?” Laura asked, tamping down her excitement as soon as Jack called her back.
“I think I sold it.”
“How’d he respond when you mentioned Mortimer?”
“He didn’t comment and I didn’t expect him to. I was only laying the groundwork. Once I toss Mortimer’s name out a few more times, we may get a response.”
“A response such as Mortimer getting a home visit like you did,” Laura replied.
“I’d love it if they drove their hogs across his lawn or something.”
“So would I.” Laura felt a lump in her throat. It’s the “or something” that bothers me.
“Maybe it’d convince Mortimer to reconsider the op plan,” Jack continued.
“More likely he’d pee himself … then crawl to them on his hands and knees and beg them to leave him alone.”
Jack was silent for a moment. “You’re right. Rut marks on his lawn won’t be enough.”
Oh, man …
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lance Morgan arrived in Stanley Park at the same time as Pure E. Moments later they bought coffee from the concession stand and joined Whiskey Jake, who was waiting at a nearby picnic table.
Whiskey Jake waited until Pure E took a sip of coffee, then smiled. “Got some interesting news.”
“I presume you didn’t call me to talk about the weather,” Pure E replied.
“Nope. I got a call from a cop a couple hours ago.”
“Who? Taggart?” Pure E asked.
“No, but from what I heard, we don’t need to worry about him anymore.”
Lance’s face remained passive. Not worry about Taggart? Fuck, are you stupid.
“What do you mean?” Pure E frowned.
“This guy wouldn’t give me his name,” Whiskey Jake continued, “but is looking to make some cash. He let me know that the narcs were watching one of our weed deals go down this morning. It involved a guy our boys sent from Calgary and a dealer from Prince George. His info was right on. He also told me that Taggart has cleaned himself up and doesn’t want anything to do with us. That I might not’ve believed, but the weed deal was real, so that part is probably true, too.”
Lance’s brain spun as Whiskey Jake went into detail about the phone he was given and the call he’d received. Jack, what the hell are you up to? Trying to make it look like you’re no longer involved so that later when someone gets whacked we won’t point the finger at you? He eyed Pure E. Someone? Guess I know who that’s gonna be.
“So, sounds like we got a rat cop.” Pure E looked smug. “That’s good. Fine if he doesn’t give us his name. We’ll call him Rat Cop.” He eyed Whiskey Jake. “Were you able to warn the runners in time?”
“Not for Calgary. The cops grabbed him outside of Hope.”
“Fuck,” Pure E muttered.
“We were able to get word to the Prince George guy in time. He turned around and came back. The weed’ll be passed off to someone else until we figure out what to do.”
Pure E eyed Whiskey Jake. “And he said the heat came from Calgary?”
“Yeah, but, uh, yeah, that’s what he said,” Whiskey Jake replied.
Pure E glared at Whiskey Jake. “But, uh, what?”
Whiskey Jake hesitated, then said, “He said some head cop by the name of Mortimer is coming after us because of what we did to Taggart. He said the guy is ordering an investigation against
us right across Canada and probably beyond.”
Pure E’s lips curled back as he appeared to think about it. “Who is this fuckhead?”
“A new boss is all he said,” Whiskey Jake replied. “I never heard his name before.”
Lance’s face remained impassive when Pure E briefly locked eyes with his. It wasn’t necessary to say I told you so.
“Fuck!” Pure E backhanded his coffee cup off the table and sent it flying. “I don’t trust any cop, rat or otherwise!” He paused a moment before continuing, “He said the heat came from Calgary, but we can’t be sure. Maybe the cops wanted to let the Prince George guy escape. Maybe that’s where the heat’s coming from.”
“Rat Cop did try to call me a few times in the morning, but I didn’t get the phone until noon,” Whiskey Jake said. “By then it was too late to save the Calgary end. I did give Basil a call. He’s going to look after the case.”
“We should still warn Calgary,” Lance noted.
Pure E nodded. “You take care of that. Let ’em know they might have heat, but don’t do any further business with the guy from Prince George until we figure things out.”
“Do I let Calgary know about Rat Cop?” Lance questioned.
“No. If they do have a leak, I don’t want to jeopardize him in case he’s who he says he is. I’ll talk to Basil. Tell Calgary that Basil thinks the investigation started there because of something the cops said.”
“When Rat Cop calls, what do I tell ’im?” Whiskey Jake questioned. “Do I keep packin’ this extra phone around or not? If so, are we gonna pay ’im or grab ’im and see who he is?”
“Fuck, if he’s bein’ straight, he’s worth a lot,” Pure E said. “He’s obviously paranoid. If we make a move on ’im he’s liable to shut down, so keep the phone close and pay him fifteen hundred bucks. Tell him it would’ve been double if he’d told us in time to save the other half.”
At 4:45 p.m. the following day Whiskey Jake received his next call from Rat Cop.
