by Don Easton
“When do you think he’ll be back?”
“Next Friday, but listen, I’m not done. This is where I don’t want you to freak out. The Russians spoke to him about your guy Mortimer.”
“How the hell do the Russians know about him?”
“Something to do with working jointly on terrorism projects and sharing information. They said Mortimer has been holding back people for that because he considers Pure E more of a priority.”
“I see.”
“Pure E said he’d heard of Mortimer, but then he got razzed about it. He was basically accused of being an amateur. To prove otherwise, starting Monday, he’s ordered surveillance and photos of Mortimer to be taken over the next week.”
Perfect. Love it when a plan comes together.
“Along with his family, too,” Lance continued. “That’s if he has any.”
Yeah, he’s married and has a daughter living at home. I wonder if he has an alarm system. He sure as hell wasn’t going to approve one for me.
“You got nothing to say about that?” Lance sounded surprised.
“I was thinking that it’s the same as happened to me,” Jack replied.
“Yeah, except this time the three-three —”
“The three-three? Why them and not your regular surveillance team?”
“Pure E didn’t say.”
Guess he really did take it to heart when Natasha told him that Mortimer was his enemy. “Using the three-three makes it pretty obvious to me.”
“Yeah, I figured it would freak you out, but relax. He’s adamant that Mortimer doesn’t find out about it. He thinks if he did, it would make us look like a pack of amateurs. The three-three are the best, that’s all. It’s not a hit. At least not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“If that changes, I’ll likely know about it and will give you a call. For now, they’re only doing surveillance and taking pictures. Mortimer won’t know they’re there, let alone see or hear anything.”
As in not hearing the sound of the shot that kills you. “Okay, I’ll trust you to keep me informed if anything changes. If I warn Mortimer, then he’d have your guys busted and I’d be afraid it would scare the Russians off. I’m sure Pure E is feeling the stress over this, too.”
“You’re right about that. Buying three tonnes of white … I doubt he could get any more stressed.”
“Wanna bet? Do you know where Whiskey Jake is at the moment?”
“Yeah, he’s with Pure E and will be taking him to the airport later. Why?”
“As soon as I’m done talking with you, Rat Cop is going to pass something on. With what’s going on, if I turn the stress level up on Pure E even further, maybe he’ll make a mistake and do something stupid — in regard to handling the coke, I mean, not Mortimer.”
“Dare I ask what you plan on passing on?”
“I expect you’ll be hearing from them right after, but I’m going to tell Whiskey Jake something that is not only true, but will make Pure E look stupid.” Jack paused for breath. “Neal Barlow wasn’t an informant.”
“For real?”
“Yes, for real. Pure E’s order that he be tortured to death, along with his brother and sister-in-law, was totally uncalled for.”
“Fuck,” Lance murmured.
“I wonder what the rest of your guys will think when they hear about it. Their new national president may not be as wonderful as they thought.”
“They might not believe it. I do, but they might not.”
“If Whiskey Jake doubts me, I have details. Things such as it was Pasquale Bazzoli from the three-three who handed out cans of lighter fluid to the Gypsy Devils. They in turn burned Roxanne to death and made Robert and Neal watch. After that they killed Robert and then gutted Neal last. It was Norman Thorsen from the Gypsy Devils, or Thor as you know him, who took a knife to Neal. That’s when Bazzoli dipped a broom in the blood and left me a message on the wall.”
“Yeah, knowing those details oughtta convince them.” Lance paused, then said, “Christ, I figured Neal wasn’t your rat because of things you’ve done to protect me. You’re smarter than that, but I sure as hell couldn’t tell them that.” He paused a moment. “Pure E really screwed up. And leavin’ the message for you on the wall …”
4 U JT — yeah that caught my attention.
“You not worried it’ll heat up your real informant? And I don’t mean me. Obviously it had to be one of the other GDs. Even I didn’t know all those details.”
“It wasn’t a Gypsy Devil.”
“What?” Lance exclaimed. “No! Besides Bazzoli, the only other guy there from our club was —”
“Mack Cockerill.”
“Shit!” Lance was quiet for a moment. “That’s why you’re not worried. He died of a drug overdose weeks ago.”
“That’s right.”
Lance paused, apparently thinking about it, then said, “I know you want to make Pure E look bad, but it may not go any further than Whiskey Jake and Pure E.”
“I’m also going to say that the Gypsy Devils will find out after Christmas who the real informant is when it comes out in court. Now that he’s dead, his identify doesn’t need to be kept secret.”
“That’ll let the cat out of the bag,” Lance said.
“No kidding.”
“The GDs will go nuts. They’ll want revenge.”
“Maybe.” Jack thought for a moment. “It’s bound to make them sick — killing one of their own like that. Do you really think they’d try to take on your club? It’d be suicide. I could see them simply disbanding and going their separate ways.”
“I doubt Pure E would risk it.”
Of course he won’t risk it. That’s what I’m counting on.
“He’ll want them taken out to be on the safe side — which I guess for you is one less club to worry about.”
“Having the three-three kill Damien and Vicki, then keep it mum is one thing. I could see the three-three understanding that it was for the better overall morale of the club. Killing six guys to cover the previous murder of three others is something else. Sooner or later word of Pure E’s stupidity will get out. His leadership will be questioned and he’ll be less respected.”
“A lot of death just to cause someone to lose respect.”
“If you fly with the crows, expect to get shot.”
Whiskey Jake was pleased when Rat Cop called him. He wasn’t pleased when he heard what Rat Cop had to say. Neither was Pure E.
Chapter Fifty-One
It was dark Saturday evening when Jack parked his SUV at Deas Island Park. The location he’d picked was alongside the Fraser River and across from a marina. Laura used her own car and parked nearby. It was her job to distract anyone who happened by. Nobody did and it didn’t take Jack long to unload five garbage bags and hide them at the water’s edge.
Jack and Laura then drove to the other side of the river and parked near the marina, where Laura got in the SUV with Jack. He pulled out his phone.
Crime Stoppers were pleased with the tip. The exact location was given of where ninety-five kilos of cocaine belonging to Satans Wrath were hidden. The tipster said that the drugs were about to be picked up any moment by someone in a boat. Although the tipster’s identity was never revealed, a number assigned to the tipster revealed that he’d provided a tip six weeks earlier that had led to an arrest and the seizure of one hundred and fifty kilos of marijuana destined for Calgary.
One hour later the tipster’s credibility was enhanced when the cocaine was located. A flurry of activity ensued where most of the cocaine was substituted with bags of flour. Several officers then hid nearby to nab whoever came to pick up the drugs.
From across the river Jack and Laura had taken turns watching through binoculars. “No point having them sit out in the rain any longer,” Jack said once the officers were in
position.
Crime Stoppers then received another call advising that the police had been spotted getting into position and that the bikers were abandoning the stash. The tipster said that the bikers were concerned about their cocaine source finding out about the seizure because it might put an end to future deals with him. If that were to happen the bikers would go elsewhere and the tipster would not be in a pos-ition to assist. The tipster was assured that no press release would be made.
“So now what?” Laura asked.
“We go home.”
“No, I mean in regards to the plan.”
“My swelling and bruising, courtesy of the Black Water clientele, has almost gone. I think we should spend some time in the office before Rose becomes suspicious. Also we need to lay some groundwork with her about the Russians.”
“You mean the pretend Russians.”
“Natasha is real.” Jack glanced at his watch and frowned. “I thought our friend would’ve called back to tell us when they plan on killing the Gypsy Devils.”
“Me, too. Oh, man.”
“What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? What if they’re already doing it?”
“Pure E won’t jeopardize losing three tonnes of coke by bringing attention to himself by murdering them now. That’s why I said that the Gypsy Devils wouldn’t find out until after Christmas.”
“But you plan to tip the GDs off much sooner than that.”
“Yes, but that’ll depend on when Satans Wrath want to do it. We’ll have to play it by ear.”
“Yeah … play it by ear. I’ve heard that before.”
“Relax. We’ll have a couple of weeks to get our ducks in a row.”
“A couple of weeks. That isn’t long. Not for what needs to be done. Something could go wrong.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know,” she said, sounding irritated. “Dope deals never go down on time. There’re always delays. In the meantime we could be starting a war.”
“We will be starting a war,” Jack stated. “The trick will be to limit the body count to who we want.” He felt his phone vibrate and glanced at the call display. “Speaking of our friend, maybe your worries will be answered.” He leaned over in the seat so Laura could hear.
“You sure put a bee up Pure E’s ass,” Lance said.
“Thought I might,” Jack replied. He winked at Laura, but could tell by her face that she didn’t share his glee. He turned his attention back to Lance. “Did it change his travel plans?”
“No, I met them at noon. He still flew out to Halifax.”
“What took you so long to get back to me?”
“I was with Whiskey Jake. We called all the three-three in for a chat and set a date for uh, you know, it to happen.”
“To lower the census by six.”
“Yeah. Pure E doesn’t want to stir things up until the thing with the Russians has gone ahead.”
Jack gave Laura a thumbs-up. It felt good to see the relief on her face.
“As far as the GDs go,” Lance continued, “it’s set for Friday, December 19.”
“Do you know how and where?”
“The three-three want to use the same prospect’s house out in Abbotsford that they used for Vicki. I’m going to send one of my guys over to tell the GDs we want ’em to hang a licking on some dealers who live out that way.”
“I presume the message will be passed on to Carl Shepherd, their president?
“Yup. He’ll be told to have all his guys meet at the prospect’s house for a debriefing. All the three-threes will be there. The GDs won’t be expecting anything. Our guys will use silencers. Maybe take half of ’em out to the garage or maybe do ’em all at once. Whatever. That’s up to the three-three.”
“When are you going to tell Carl?”
“This week. I want to give plenty of notice so there’s no excuse for any of ’em not to be there. Why?”
“Laura and I want to surveil him when he’s told and see who he contacts afterward. Find out if there are any new prospects or GDs we don’t know about. Monday and Tuesday we’re not available, but we’re clear after that.”
“Okay, how about Wednesday? He works as a mechanic out of his garage at home, but if I send someone there around 4:00 p.m. he’ll knock off work soon after. Then you won’t be wastin’ your time sittin’ around.”
“Much appreciated. Maybe there’ll be more than six.”
Lance let out a snort. “Yeah, well, either way, soon there won’t be any.”
Jack hung up and stared quietly out the window for a moment to collect his thoughts.
“So you were right,” Laura said. “They’re not doing it immediately.”
“You less stressed now?”
“Oh, for sure,” Laura replied sarcastically. “What have I got to be stressed about other than six guys have been targeted for murder and we’ll be doing another kidnapping?”
“Kidnapping? Naw, I look at it as securing a dangerous criminal so he doesn’t become violent while taking him on a trip of enlightenment.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Laura followed Jack into Rose’s office and placed her coffee mug on the corner of the desk as she sat beside Jack. She saw Rose eyeing them from over the top of her reading glasses.
Pleasantries were exchanged, then Rose looked ser-ious. “Okay, so what’ve you two been up to? I didn’t see either one of you all last week.”
“Doing a lot of surveillance,” Jack said.
“What happened to your eye?” Rose asked. “Looks puffy.”
You should’ve seen him last week.
“It’s okay,” Jack replied. “I’ve got a sty. I’ve been soaking it with warm compresses. It’s starting to go away.”
“I see. So … what’s with all the surveillance?”
“We’ve got something big,” Jack responded. “Our informant said that Pure E has met with some Russians who are offering to sell him three tonnes of cocaine.”
Rose looked startled and sat back in her chair. “You’re not putting me on?”
Yeah, we are.
“That’s what our informant said,” Jack replied. “He’s never lied to us in the past, but that doesn’t mean it’s not bullshit. Maybe someone is trying to impress Pure E.”
“Do we know who these Russians are?”
Yes, it’s Mrs. Taggart.
“Our informant doesn’t have a clue. He said that only Pure E is allowed to deal with them. At the moment Pure E is meeting with other chapters across Canada to arrange disbursement for when they get it. He’s expected back Friday.”
“Then obviously Pure E believes its real,” Rose stated. “Goddamn Mortimer. We should be throwing everything we have at this. Drug Section, Integrated Proceeds of Crime, surveillance teams, wiretaps.”
Laura heard Jack take a deep breath, then sigh. Good one. It sounded real.
“I know,” Jack lamented. “Still, all this is in the preliminary stages. Maybe once Pure E returns we’ll be able to identify who he meets. Our informant should be able to help out. If we’re lucky, I’ll be able to call Crime Stoppers.”
Rose inhaled, then slowly let her breath out in an apparent attempt to calm herself. “Okay, so what’re you up to until Pure E returns?”
“Oh, you know, just the usual.”
Yeah … the usual kidnapping and murder.
At 9:00 a.m. Wednesday Laura slowly drove their SUV past Carl Shepherd’s house. The windshield wipers sounded dismal, but she knew it wasn’t the weather that had her depressed. It’d been another night of worry and no sleep.
“Good, the garage door is open and his crew cab’s parked in the driveway,” Jack said. “No sign of his wife’s car.”
He sounded cheery. Irritatingly so.
“Park down the block and I’ll go in on foot. I’ll
be able to use an umbrella to hide my mask until I get there.”
Laura did as instructed, then glanced at Jack’s waist as he rummaged for his umbrella. He had a pillow to shove in his shirt to make him look fat, hoping to match the physique of Whiskey Jake. Once he found his umbrella, he stopped moving and stared at her face.
“What is it?”
“Your lipstick.”
He’s noticing my lipstick at a time like this? “It’s called Electric Pink. Don’t you like it?”
“I love it. Do you have it with you? I want to borrow it.”
Laura eyed him suspiciously. “I’ve heard rumors that you sometimes wear lipstick.”
“I don’t anymore,” he said, straight-faced. “That was a long time ago — back when I was young and really needed the money.”
Laura reached for her purse. “Okay, smartass, what do you really want it for?”
“Hang on. Phone … it’s Wilson.” He gestured for her to lean in.
“Probably can’t read your notes from last week,” Laura said.
“Jack, I’m sorry,” were the first words Wilson uttered. “I really screwed up. I never should’ve used you and Laura for that UC. Not after you told me about Mortimer.”
“What happened?” Jack asked.
“One of our asshole inspectors took it upon himself to send Mortimer a letter, commending you and Laura for your work and expressing his gratitude. I only found out about it this morning when I got a copy. The original was mailed out yesterday afternoon.”
Oh, man. Not now, not this. Laura looked at Jack and saw him bite his lip.
“I’m sorry,” Wilson repeated.
“Not your fault,” Jack said. “I would’ve been more upset if you hadn’t let me help. It was my business card shoved down Tom’s throat. I needed to be there. Don’t worry about it. Maybe Mortimer will understand.”
Mortimer understand? NFL.
