by Don Easton
“You got something for me?” Rat Cop asked.
“Yup. Got fifteen c’s.”
“Fifteen hundred bucks? Is that all? I was expecting a little more,” Rat Cop grumbled.
“Would’ve been double if you’d connected with me earlier yesterday. Right now we don’t trust you. If you’re being straight with us, things will improve.”
Rat Cop hesitated. “Yeah … okay, but trust goes both ways. I don’t want to meet you in person.”
“I’m fine with that. How do you want to do it? I’m free at the moment.”
“I just got off work. Gotta whip back to my apartment and change out of uniform. You know where the Home Depot store is in Coquitlam?”
“I can find it.”
“You driving that white Lexus of yours?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Come alone and be there in an hour.”
An hour later Whiskey Jake arrived at the store and parked. In no time he received another call. “I’m watching you. Drive a block east of where you’re at. There’s a Starbucks there. Leave the envelope for me on your right rear tire and go in and have a coffee. If all goes well, I’ll be calling you again soon.”
Whiskey Jake did as instructed. After buying a coffee he sat looking out the window. Soon a guy in jeans and a dark hoodie, face concealed, walked quickly up to his Lexus, retrieved the envelope, and then disappeared behind a row of cars.
Whiskey Jake returned to his Lexus and pulled out of the lot, but caught a glimpse of the guy in the hoodie walking into a commercial complex in the next block. He smiled to himself when he saw there was a casino in the complex. You got a gambling problem, Rat Cop? Fucking perfect.
“Anything?” Jack asked as soon as Laura answered his call from the casino.
“Nope, he eyed you as you headed toward the casino, then drove off in the opposite direction. I’m pretty sure he came alone.”
“Good, but to be extra cautious, I’ll hit the men’s room and put my hoodie on under my jacket and pull track pants over my jeans. Pick me up outside.”
Moments later Laura picked Jack up and drove out of the lot. She saw him smile when he counted out fifteen 100-dollar bills from the envelope.
“Not bad pay considering we seized half their weed,” he noted. “Imagine the looks on their faces if they knew.”
“I worry about the look on Rose’s face if she knew,” Laura replied.
Jack shrugged. “She was okay yesterday when we told her we had one hundred and fifty kilos of weed seized.”
“I thought she seemed a little grumpy.”
“Only because we had to use Crime Stoppers. Can’t say as I blame her.” He stared at Laura longer than normal and she sensed he was worried about her. “Today’s Thursday,” he said. “The coke shipment is supposed to arrive next Tuesday. Let’s take tomorrow off and not work until Monday. I’ve a feeling we’re going to be putting in long days next week.”
“Three days off in a row?” Wonderful! “Yes, I’d like that.”
“I thought that might cheer you up.” He looked at the money in his hand. “We’ll use some of this to cover investigational expenses. The rest can go to charity.”
“What? You’re not taking me shopping?”
Jack grinned. “I don’t think Rose would approve.”
The mention of Rose not approving made her feel depressed about Jack’s plan. Bet she wouldn’t approve of murder, either.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rose felt antsy Monday morning as she waited for Jack and Laura to arrive at work. Jack had left her a note Thursday night saying they were taking Friday off, but over the weekend she’d thought about it and suspected they were up to something.
As soon as they arrived, she waved them into her office. When they sat down, she saw Jack look at her with a raised eyebrow. “You tell me if something is up,” she stated.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“You took Friday off.”
“We did,” Jack replied, then exchanged a puzzled look with Laura.
“I’m not begrudging you that. I know the two of you put in a lot of voluntary hours preparing that op plan.”
“So what is it?” Laura asked. “Why would you think something’s up?”
“Because I sense that there is.” Rose spoke firmly.
Laura screwed up her face and looked at Jack questioningly.
She’s hiding something. “Don’t give me that crap. Not after all the two of you have put me through over the years. By now … well, you should know we’re on the same team.”
“If I didn’t feel we were, I wouldn’t have told you that I tipped off Crime Stoppers,” Jack said.
Rose nodded. That sounded lame. Whatever they’re up to is more than tipping off Crime Stoppers.
“I know you care about us,” Jack said. “No doubt you’ve lost more than a few hours’ worth of sleep over the years, with the things we’ve been involved in.”
“More like a few years’ worth,” Rose shot back.
“I feel bad about that, but you have to admit that the action we took during those times was appropriate under the circumstances.”
Yes, on paper it seemed that way, but who are you trying to kid, Jack? You’re trying to read my mind — if I sound accusatory you’ll clam up. “Yes, the action you take always seems appropriate, but what do you consider appropriate now?”
“What do you mean?”
What do I mean? Damn you, you’re stalling for time to think. “What I mean is your family’s been threatened. You have a high-level source that, handled properly, could do significant damage to Satans Wrath, as well as an assistant commissioner who … well, what can I say?”
“The word ‘asshole’ comes to mind,” Jack said.
“So what’re you doing about it?”
“We discussed this before,” Jack replied. “The source gave us one hundred and fifty kilos of weed last week. I tipped off Crime Stoppers and the arrest was made. We plan to continue along the same lines.”
“I thought you were in agreement with us doing that,” Laura said.
“I was, but I don’t see the two of you being satisfied with maintaining the status quo for long. If your op plan had been approved, we’d have caught more than one weed runner.”
“You’re absolutely right, but what choice do we have?” Jack asked.
That’s just it — we don’t. We’re stuck with who we’ve got. Am I wrong to be suspicious? She sighed. “I guess we don’t.”
“Not as long as Mortimer’s in charge,” Jack said, glancing at Laura.
That subtle change in Laura’s face when Jack looked at her … anxiety? About what? The mention of Mortimer? Or is it fear? Rose saw that Jack’s face had hardened, and she felt her own fear grow. Fear that they had something planned, and she wouldn’t know about it until it was too late. But too late for what?
Monday evening Lance called Jack to let him know that the McRooney’s moving truck was on schedule and due to arrive in Vancouver with the one hundred and twenty kilos of cocaine the following afternoon.
By late Tuesday morning Jack and Laura, each in their own surveillance vehicle, parked at a rest stop alongside the Trans-Canada Highway two hours east of Vancouver. At 2:30 p.m. they spotted the moving truck and followed.
At 4:15 p.m. Jack watched the truck enter the Pacific Self-Storage compound located on the outskirts of Vancouver. The yard was surrounded by a high chain-link fence with rolls of razor wire laced along the top. Entry was through a gate beside the office. Beyond that were rows of storage units divided by laneways.
Jack smiled as he phoned Laura. A tall sign jutting above the compound had identified the storage facility, so she’d stayed a block behind so as not to attract attention to her vehicle. “Bingo. He’s checking into the office.”
“Peaks and valley
s,” Laura said. “We’re on a peak. You able to keep the eye?”
“I should be able to. There’s a commercial complex across the street with lots of cars for cover. It’s safe for you to drive in and join me.”
Moments later Laura got into Jack’s SUV. They then watched as McRooney backed his truck up to one of the storage units. They weren’t able to see what he unloaded, but at 5:00 p.m. he drove away.
“So who are we going to be?” Laura asked Jack.
“I’ve got some fake ID to rent a locker under the name of Roberts. If the place is being live-monitored by camera, I’ll park near McRooney’s locker and pretend we’ve got a flat tire. Shouldn’t take me long to pick the padlock. If that doesn’t work, then I’ll stay overnight in whichever locker we rent and do it after dark. You could pick me up tomorrow morning when they open. I’ll also need you outside to throw a little heat on any bikers who show up. That and take care of the dog.”
“What dog?”
Jack passed the binoculars. “Look at the sign on the front gate.”
Laura peered through the binoculars. “Oh, man. Guard dog on duty,” she said. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
“Go to the far corner of the compound and keep the mutt busy while I steal the dope.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Tease him and stick your fingers through the fence.”
Laura faked a glare. “I get awful bad vibes about you, Mr. Roberts.”
“You’re not the only one. Rose is suspicious, too. She suspects something’s up.”
“Isn’t there always?” She gestured with her thumb at several cardboard boxes in the back of his SUV. “Anything in ’em?”
“Mostly empty. They’re for show in case whoever runs the place noses around. Got some candy bars and water in case I spend the night.” He then gave a nod toward the facility. “We need to hustle. It closes at 6:00 p.m. and doesn’t open again till 6:00 a.m.”
Moments later Jack rented a storage locker. He was pleased to see that it was only three units down from McRooney’s. Spending the night inside would not be necessary. In conversation with the manager, Jack learned that the facility had closed-circuit cameras, but they were only for backup in the event of theft; they weren’t live-monitored.
He then drove to his assigned locker, but strategically parked his SUV so as to block the vision of anyone who might glance at the CCTV cameras.
Laura busied herself on the pretence of unloading cardboard boxes and placing them in the laneway to provide further cover for Jack as he picked the padlock on McRooney’s locker.
Eureka! The lock sprang open. Jack then lifted the overhead door enough to duck inside. It didn’t take long to find three locked trunks. Five minutes later those same trunks were stashed in the locker he’d rented.
“Well?” Laura gestured at the trunks.
Jack used his lock picks again and opened one trunk. It was packed with cocaine. “Beautiful,” he said, then smiled at Laura.
They quickly counted what turned out to be forty kilos of cocaine. Jack glanced at his watch. “Closing time. We need to leave. I think we can assume that the other two hold forty keys, as well.”
“You going to make the call?” Laura asked.
“As soon as we’re back across the street.”
Whiskey Jake was on his way to pick up Pure E and go to dinner and then clubbing when his rat phone rang. He smiled to himself as he answered. Yup, Rat Cop, you’re next to the Mounties’ top man and you work for me. “Yeah?” he answered.
Whiskey Jake’s feeling of elation was short-lived.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Pure E’s face became a mottled red. “What the fuck? How’d they find out?” he spluttered.
Whiskey Jake waited as an elderly couple walked past them outside Pure E’s condo. “Rat Cop said the heat came from Montreal. He said one of our guys had approached the cops months ago sayin’ he’d rat if they paid him. At the time the cops told him he was askin’ for too much. Apparently this fuckin’ Mortimer dude turned around and authorized it.”
“Who the fuck was it?” Pure E fumed.
“Rat Cop says he doesn’t know. He didn’t find out about it until he was about to go home. Then some narcs from Montreal showed up, along with some from here, and they had a meeting. The fuckin’ narcs are replacing the blow with flour, except for the top layer. He said their tech guys rented another locker and stashed their van in it. They’re gonna put trackers in some of the keys and then put the trunks back. He said they’ll also install cameras.”
“Hopin’ to do a bunch of us on conspiracy,” Pure E stated.
“Yup.”
“Is the dope already gone?”
“Yeah, except for a few keys at the top of each trunk. He said the narcs were laughin’ about maybe the tech guys gettin’ their asses chewed by the guard dog, but said a couple of cops are waitin’ outside the compound to distract it when need be.”
“Fuckin’ hell. This ain’t no small change.”
“No shit. We paid twenty-four a key. Times one hundred and twenty means we’re out about three mil.”
Pure E slammed his fist into the palm of his hand and swore again.
“At least the cops won’t have anyone to arrest,” Whiskey Jake said. “At least not on our end. Dunno know about Montreal.”
“You send anyone over to look?”
“You mean to the storage locker?”
“No, I’m talkin’ about the fuckin’ vault the cops keep it in.” He gave Whiskey Jake a look of disgust. “Yeah, the goddamn storage locker.”
“Not yet, but all the details are right on.”
“Check it out, anyway.”
Whiskey Jake nodded. “What about Rat Cop? He’ll wanna be paid.”
“Obviously he’s being straight with us. There’s no way the cops would seize all this dope without arresting anyone. Keep him on the hook. Pay ’im three g’s, but tell ’im that if he’d called us in time to save the dope we would’ve paid him ten times that much. Also get hold of Lance. Tell him to send that French guy he has in his chapter down to Montreal to let ’em know. Make sure to tell him that only their exec level is to know how we found out. I don’t want word getting out about Rat Cop.”
At 7:30 p.m. Buster Linquist parked his car two blocks away from Pacific Self-Storage. He zipped up his jacket to protect himself from the light rain and put a leash on his pit bull before walking the remaining distance.
It was an industrial area and the commercial properties were closed for the night, but he reasoned that if he was spotted he’d simply look like some guy out walking his dog. It didn’t take long for him to spot a car backed into a parking stall across the street and facing the storage facility. The car lights were off, but the engine was running and he could make out two figures in the front seat.
Buster swore under his breath. Yup, we got heat.
At 9:00 p.m. Lance phoned Jack. “You know what they’re calling you?”
“No,” Jack replied.
“Rat Cop.”
“I’ve been called worse. The point is, do they trust me yet?”
“Yes.”
“Were McRooney and Buster told about me? I mean Rat Cop?”
“No, Pure E is protecting you. McRooney and Buster were told that word from Montreal was that the load was compromised. I sent Buster out and he spotted the surveillance to confirm everything. McRooney is going to let the rent expire, and if any heat comes his way, he’ll blame it on whatever name is on the bogus moving invoice.”
“Good.”
“I’m also sending my VP out to Montreal to warn them they got a rat.”
“André Gagnon still your vice-president?”
“Yeah. Also, you might like to know that Whiskey Jake has been told to send three grand your way.”
“Perfect. I’d
say that’s a good indication they trust me.”
“Yeah, so tell me, is this big picture of yours a plan to supplement your retirement?”
Jack grunted his disdain. “It would take more than three grand for that.”
“It’s the one hundred and twenty keys I’m talking about. We get ours at volume price, so the club is out about three million, but you could easily sell it quick for four mil.”
“I’m not a dope dealer,” Jack said.
“Yeah, I know. A lot of other things maybe.” Lance paused, then asked, “Am I ever gonna get to see this big picture of yours?”
“You saw the opening feature. I wanted Pure E to trust Rat Cop.”
“I’d say you got that — but what’s next?”
“Next is to find out what the three-three did with Damien’s body.”
“How you gonna do that?” Lance asked. “Even I don’t know.”
“The story the club members have been fed is that Damien skipped the country to avoid his money-laundering charges.”
“Yeah.”
Jack’s voice was cold. “I think it’s time his wife joined him.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It was suppertime Thursday when Whiskey Jake parked his car outside a coffee shop as instructed by Rat Cop. Although a different location than before, Whiskey Jake felt it was no coincidence that Hastings Racecourse was only two blocks away. So Rat Cop, you like to bet on the horses, too.
As before, he placed an envelope on his rear tire, entered the coffee shop, and seconds later, saw the man with the hoodie over his face retrieve it. Minutes later, Rat Cop called.
“Three grand,” he whined. “Is that all I get for saving you guys from going to jail?”
Greedy prick. “Would’ve been thirty grand if you’d saved the dope.”
“Yeah, well, I did the best I could. The narcs know they’ve been burned. Said they spotted one of your guys with a dog checking the place out. They removed all the electronic stuff and shut down their surveillance. Now they’re wondering how they got burned. Three grand ain’t much. I really went out on a limb to save your guys.”
