by Don Easton
They’d arrived at the door to his office. Jack looked at Rose and said, “Right, you’re going to protect me. Got it.”
Rose eyed him suspiciously, then continued down the hall to her own office.
Sorry, Rose, but nobody could protect me from what I’m about to do.
Chapter Thirty-Six
It was approaching supper hour on Monday when Whiskey Jake left Satan’s Girls Entertainment Agency and headed for his car. His exclusive phone rang and he reached for it. Rat Cop. I wondered how long it would be before you wanted your money. “It’s me,” he answered.
“Where are you?” Rat Cop asked.
“Out on the street. It’s safe.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Rat Cop grumbled.
Whiskey Jake smiled. So you know we aced her. What the fuck did you think we were gonna do? “What’s up?”
“What’s up? You know what’s up. I met with Mortimer.”
“Yeah, him. What’d he have to say?”
“Vicki never showed up for her meeting on Friday with the prosecutor. Her lawyer said he didn’t know where she was. Everyone’s freaked out.”
“Yeah, so what did Mortimer say?”
“He said there’s something on a wire about her double-crossing the police to stall for time so that you guys could sneak her out of the country.”
“Interesting. Does he believe it?”
“He doesn’t know what to believe … but I do. You guys better come through for me on —”
“Relax. I’ve been waiting for you to call. I got somethin’ for ya.”
“It better be good. The shit’s really hit the fan. I stuck my neck out big time.”
“You’ll be happy. Ten large.”
Rat Cop paused. “Okay, that’s fair.”
An hour later Jack retrieved ten thousand dollars delivered to a drop site by Whiskey Jake. This time the money, all in hundreds, was stashed inside a Chinese takeout box and placed under a Dumpster. After retrieving it, Jack was picked up by Laura. He gestured to the box and said, “It went smoothly.”
Laura nodded silently.
“You okay?” Jack asked.
“I’m okay, just tired. It’s been a long day.”
“We’re off tomorrow. It’s Remembrance Day.”
“I wish it was Forgetting Day,” Laura replied. “I can’t stop remembering.”
“The farmhouse?”
“Yes, the farmhouse, Vicki, Pure E, everything.”
Jack thought how haggard Laura had been looking lately and felt a twinge of guilt. “We’ll get him, Laura. Pure E will pay for what he did. That’s a promise.”
“And Mortimer?”
Jack tensed at the thought of Mortimer. Ease up. She’s stressed enough. “The plan will work. Don’t worry about him.”
“Right … don’t worry.”
Over the next week, Jack and Laura continued to gather information on people and businesses in the area they were searching. When titles and ownership documents within the next grid section failed to reveal anything, they drove to the area and collected licence-plate numbers.
The following Monday they were driving along a country road and saw a dairy farm situated well back from the road with a car parked in the yard. “I’m going to drive in and scoop the plate,” Jack said as he turned into the driveway.
Laura looked at a map of land titles. “Says the owner is a David McGregor. I already ran him for a record. There’s nothing.” She looked at a large square section on the map and added, “He owns a big chunk of land.”
Jack shrugged. “Let’s get the plate number regardless. The three-three could be renting to keep their names off the land titles.”
When Jack drove into the yard a middle-aged woman came out of the house, so he rolled down his window and smiled.
“Hi! Can I help you?” she asked.
“Friends of ours moved out to this area recently and are renting a house,” Jack said. “We accidentally left their address and phone number behind, but I think this is the area.”
“You left the number and address behind,” Laura piped up. “There’s no we about it.”
The woman grinned. “We don’t have any renters. What’s their name?”
“Ray and Susan Wilky,” Jack said.
“Wilky … no, I don’t know them.” She looked apologetic. “We’ve lived here for over thirty years, but lately there’ve been so many farms gobbled up and subdivided that there are lots of people in the area we don’t know. Sorry I couldn’t help.”
“No problem. We’ll keep looking. Sorry to have bothered you.”
“Good luck,” the woman said, then waved as they drove out of the yard.
By the time they reached the main road Laura had confirmed that the car in the yard was registered to David McGregor.
Jack drove for a couple of minutes past some open fields, then slammed on the brakes.
“What’s up?” Laura asked.
“That,” Jack replied, pointing to a sign posted on a tree behind a barbed-wire gate; it warned that trespassers would be charged. Tire ruts in the soil led through the clump of trees beyond.
“What of it?” Laura asked.
“Let me see the map.”
Laura handed Jack the map. “This is still McGregor’s property,” she said. As Jack studied the map, she added, “She seemed like a pretty nice woman to me.”
“Me, too,” Jack said. “Friendly and open. I also didn’t see any other signs to warn of trespassing.” He pointed to the map. “The rest of their land is cleared for pasture, but this small area on the corner is cut off by a ravine. Likely not big enough or worth the effort to put to use.”
“So why post a No Trespassing sign?”
“Exactly. We’re not even in sight of their house. If someone did trespass, I doubt it’d be noticed.”
Jack undid the gate and drove through. Moments later they came upon a compound surrounded with a chain-link fence with a double strand of barbed wire on top. A padlocked steel gate was the only entry point. Inside the compound was a shipping container. A sign inside the gate said:
INFECTIOUS WASTE
MANAGEMENT SITE
DO NOT ENTER
A couple of magnetic signs were stuck to the side of the container. One was the international symbol that indicated a biological hazard. The other warned that the area was under 24-hour monitoring and said that trespassers would be prosecuted. Closed-circuit television cameras were clearly visible inside the compound and were directed at the gate and the container.
Laura raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”
Jack shut the engine off. “I think the cameras are for show. I don’t even see any power lines.” He studied the yard again. “I’m going in for a look.”
Laura gestured to the sign. “Infectious waste? If it is, we should be wearing hazmat suits.”
“You can wait if you want.”
“You’re a jerk,” Laura replied, opening the door.
Seconds later Jack was picking the lock on the gate when his eyes drifted to a small pile of moss-covered stones alongside the fence. The moss on one stone didn’t line up properly, indicating it’d been moved. Laura saw what he was looking at and went to take a look.
“Forget the picks,” she said, holding up a plastic baggie containing two keys.
“Excellent.”
“If the McGregors were running this, they’d likely have the keys at their house,” she noted.
Pure E, you bastard, your days are numbered.
Laura stared at him. “Hey, you’re scaring me,” she said.
Jack realized his face had revealed the rage and revenge he was keeping bottled inside. “Sorry, I’m okay. Get over here. Let’s check it out.”
Laura took the keys out of the baggie. “My guess is the three-thre
e don’t want any evidence on their person to connect them to this place … if it is the place, that is.”
“Yes, so much for my idea of trying to match keys on their persons.” He looked at Laura. “Go ahead. Do the honours.”
Laura used one key to open the gate and seconds later stuck the second key inside a padlock hanging from the rear doors to the container. The lock popped open. She swallowed, then looked at Jack. “Be my guest.”
Jack slipped the padlock out of the clasp. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then opened the door. There was a smell he recognized. The same smell as in the farmhouse kitchen where two charred corpses had been tied to chairs. He then knew he’d never find any bodies. He also knew he’d found what they’d been looking for.
“Is that what I think it is?” Laura asked, pointing at the metal apparatus inside.
Jack nodded, then entered and lifted a lid on a container that was the size of a chest freezer. Attached to the compartment was a tall rectangular metal box. “It’s an animal incinerator,” he said, staring into the loading chamber. “Meant for livestock.”
“Oh.”
He expected more comment from Laura, but then he glanced at her face and saw her swallow. Yeah, words aren’t adequate to describe what’s been happening here. His gaze shifted back to the loading chamber and he thought of Damien. Glad he was already dead.
“What now?” Laura’s face was grim.
Jack let the lid fall with a bang. “Go back to the office and see what we can find out about everyone in the McGregor family.”
“She doesn’t seem like the type.”
“I agree, but who knows what the rest of her family is like? Maybe a son or daughter is connected.”
“Then what do we do after that?”
Jack’s voice was harsh. “We wait until Pure E returns from the east, then take him for a ride.”
Laura stared at the incinerator for a moment, then nodded.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Over the next few days Jack and Laura took an in-depth look at the McGregor family to see if they could come up with a connection, either direct or indirect, to the three-three or anyone with even a trace of criminal affiliation.
The McGregors had two sons and two daughters. All were university-educated, married, and had professional careers. None had any involvement with the law other than minor traffic infractions.
Late Friday afternoon Jack looked across his desk at Laura. “I don’t think they’re connected in any way. My guess is someone from the three-three is paying them to use the property and the McGregors think it’s for a legit business.”
“I agree,” Laura replied.
Jack scowled. “That puts a wrench in our plan. There’s no way I can call Crime Stoppers. I-HIT would install hidden cameras and then be forced to bring in the McGregors as witnesses to who rented the property.”
“And the trial would drag on for a year or two and the witnesses would be killed unless they were put in Witness Protection.”
“Yes.”
“Even if Pure E was, you know, no longer in charge.”
“I wouldn’t chance it even if he wasn’t around. We don’t know who’d replace him. We saw what happened to the Barlows.”
“So what do we do? Let the three-three continue on their merry way? Killing and torturing?”
“No. We’ll disband the three-three and make it so none of them go near the incinerator again.”
“How?”
“Simple. When Pure E disappears, Rat Cop will burn the three-three.”
Laura made a face. “Wish you wouldn’t use that expression.”
“Sorry. What I mean is Rat Cop will say someone in the three-three is talking, but he doesn’t know who. Satans Wrath wouldn’t risk using any of them after that.”
“That might work.”
“It will.”
Laura appeared to mull it over, then said, “Part of the plan you told me about the day you took me out of the office, because you figured I’d yell at you, was to turn the one hundred and twenty kilos of coke into three tonnes. Have you talked to Natasha about what we’ll be doing in your garage?”
“I will tonight. Friday’s our date night and we have dinner without the boys. I already reserved a stretch limo identical to the one that Mouse from the Gypsy Devils has.” He paused. “Don’t worry about Natasha. She’ll go along with it.”
“Even sitting in a car with a psychopath?”
“She’s intelligent, intuitive, and being married to me proves she can handle stress. Think of what she and I have been through over the years. What she has endured. What my children have endured. They’re strong.”
“They’ve had to be.”
“I know. So I’m confident she’ll be able to handle him. Otherwise I’d never put her in that position. No worries. I’ll train her on what to say and she’ll have backup. She won’t be with him for all that long.” He paused. “It’s not like there’s anyone else I know who speaks Russian and whom I can trust to never talk about it. Once I explain it to her, I’m certain she’ll agree.”
“You talked me into going along with it. I’m sure she will.”
Jack refilled Natasha’s glass of Cabernet Sauvignon as she cut into a barbecued steak. “How’d you like to help me out on an undercover assignment?”
“I thought you weren’t allowed to work undercover anymore,” Natasha responded.
“Mortimer won’t know about it.”
She eyed him warily. “So what do you want me to do? Go out dressed as a hooker, your date, or both?”
Jack smiled. “None of those. I want you to wear a gown with lots of jewellery. Dress like you’re going to the opera.”
“We never go to the opera.”
“You won’t be this time, either — but you’ll be in a fancy limo.”
“Doing what?”
“I want you to offer a guy three tonnes of coke. He’ll be searched before being put in the limo, so safety won’t be an issue.”
Natasha appeared to think about it, then her face brightened. “It sounds like fun.” She raised her glass. “Did you say three tonnes?”
“The target will be made to think we have that much. There’s a scenario I’ll get you to act out. Part of it will be making some phone calls in Russian.”
Natasha took a sip, then moved the wine around in her mouth before swallowing. “You’ll be with me, I presume?”
“I’m afraid not. There’ll be two bad guys. I’ll be doing a UC on one while you’re in the limo with the other. Laura will drive the limo and Sammy Crofton will be in the back with you for protection. Benny Saunders will be with me.”
“Who am I calling who speaks Russian?”
“The calls will be bogus. They’ll be to me.”
“You? You only know a handful of Russian words and half of them are just mushy stuff.”
“I know, but what I do know will allow me to fake an accent. The bad guys don’t speak Russian. It doesn’t matter what I actually say.”
“I take it I’m needed because I speak Russian?”
“Yes.”
Natasha stared quietly at Jack for a moment. “Does it have something to do with the bikers who came to our house?”
“Yes. The target who’ll be in the limo with you is Purvis Evans. National president of Satans Wrath.”
Natasha abruptly put her glass down. “He’s the one who ordered the guys to do it. The one you call Pure E.”
Jack nodded.
Natasha’s face darkened. “That bastard. Sure, I’ll do it.” She paused, then looked alarmed. “Won’t he recognize me?”
“I don’t know if he’s seen your picture, but to be safe, I’ll get you to buy a red wig and wear a gala masquerade mask to hide your upper face. You’ll be dressed like you’re going to a fancy event and will be sitting in
the shadows. He won’t know who you really are.”
“I see.” She raised her glass and swirled the wine around, but put it down without taking a sip and looked at him curiously.
“You okay?” he asked. “We’ll role-play the scenario over and over to cover different responses or questions he may have. I know you’d be good at it, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s not that. Why did you specify a red wig? Is it to satisfy some fetish of yours?”
“Maybe after,” Jack said, trying to sound sexy.
“Yeah, I thought as much.” Natasha smiled briefly, then her face became serious. “When do I do it?”
“In two weeks. He’s away at the moment, but due back the first of December, which is a Monday. I think we’ll get the opportunity the following Friday or Saturday. He tends to go out clubbing on weekends with one of his guys by the name of Whiskey Jake. He’s the one I’ll be dealing with.”
“Okay, so I’ll arrange a babysitter for both those days. Whichever day it isn’t, we’ll still have a babysitter. Perhaps we could go out for dinner?”
“Uh, there’s something I didn’t mention. I plan on bringing Whiskey Jake to our garage while you’re in the limo. I think it best if Mike and Stevie are farmed out for the night.”
Natasha looked incredulous. “You’re bringing him to our house?”
“The garage. That’s where the supposed three tonnes of coke will be.”
Her eyes flashed anger. “You’re not bringing him to our —”
“He’ll be blindfolded and his hands tied. Don’t worry. He won’t know where he is. When we’re done, Pure E will never bother us again.”
Natasha gave Jack a hard look. “Never?”
“Never.”
She took a sip of wine, then another. “Okay.” She gave a wry smile. “Knowing he’s the one who threatened my children, maybe you should search me before I get in the limo. Make sure I don’t put a bullet in his head.”
Jack glanced toward the living room where Mike and Steve were playing a video game. When he answered, his words were cold. “He’s not getting off that easy.”
