by Don Easton
“No, of course not. I’ve only asked a select few how much product they can handle and how soon they could pay for the, uh, loan. Why would you even ask that? I told you, I’m not some amateur.”
Natasha paused. “Perhaps it’s a coincidence.”
“Coincidence?”
“Remember the police officer we spoke about? Mortimer?”
“Yes.”
“In the last few days he’s stepped up his quest to go after you. A surveillance team currently assigned to terrorism has been seconded to start working on you, effective Monday, December 22. It’s caused my associate to seriously reconsider our options.”
Pure E responded with a string of profanity.
“Please, Mr. Evans. I don’t wish to increase my know-ledge of vulgar English words. It will not help.”
“I’m sorry.”
Jack drew a happy face on the pad.
Natasha swallowed nervously, then continued, “In my country we’d take care of a problem like that. In Mexico they call it plata o plomo — silver or lead.”
“This isn’t Mexico … or Russia,” Pure E stated. “The cops here are paid more. They’re not so easy to bribe.”
“So if he can’t be bribed, are you willing to do what needs to be done?”
Pure E was silent for a moment. “That guy has become a real pain in the ass. Sure, if it’ll make you happy, I’ll deal with it. However, won’t that bring more heat?”
Jack saw Laura staring at him so he gave her a thumbs-up. It didn’t help her ashen appearance.
Natasha cleared her throat. “Not if they think someone else is responsible. It would result in less scrutiny as far as you’re concerned because it would redirect their attention. My associate would be in a position to pass on intelligence to point the finger at the Chinese.”
“He could do that?”
“He suggested it earlier, but one moment, please.” Natasha turned to Jack and spoke rapidly in Russian.
“Da, da,” was all Jack could think to say.
Natasha turned back to the phone. “Yes, very easily.”
“Then consider it done.”
“Not yet, Mr. Evans.” Natasha’s voice sharpened. “Listen closely. This is of the utmost importance. My associate and I wish to meet you face to face prior to any action being taken. Is that understood?”
Jack felt his phone vibrate. He glanced at the display and decided to ignore the call. Bad timing, Rose.
“Yeah, but I could order what you want done right now and —”
“No! You’re not to do that! Not now!” Natasha’s tone revealed her panic.
Jack grabbed her arm and pointed to the pad of paper. Russian accent!
Natasha took two deep breaths, then said, “Nyet, nyet, nyet! I mean, no, no, no! You didn’t listen to me. No action is to be taken until you meet with us in person. For my associate to transfer the blame, he has to schedule a meeting with a certain contact to make his claim seem authentic. Timing is crucial.”
“I see. So when do you want it done?”
“Possibly about the time we meet, but he won’t be able to confirm that until then.”
“Which is when and where?”
“Two days from now — 10:00 a.m. Saturday. Our limo will pick you up in front of the car parkade on Seymour where it approaches West Georgia. One moment, please.” Natasha spoke quietly in Russian before turning her attention back to Pure E. “My associate is always concerned about surveillance. Seymour is one way and there’s no parking on the street … so we won’t wait long. Get in as soon as we pull up.”
“I understand. So, 10:00 a.m. Saturday. I’ll be there.”
As Natasha ended the call, Jack received a text from Rose. It simply read 911. The emergency text for him to contact her immediately.
Natasha touched his arm. “I’m sorry. The accent bit. I —”
Jack kissed, then hugged her. He was elated. “Are you kidding? You did great. If you weren’t going to work I’d make you one of my wheat smoothies.”
Her face broke into a smile.
“He’s going for it?” Laura asked.
“Hook, line, and sinker,” Jack replied.
“From what I heard he was anxious to do it,” Laura said.
Jack shrugged. “He was a little eager. No worries. He’ll wait.”
“Yeah, no worries,” Laura repeated.
Jack took out his phone. “Rose called me. Emergency,” he explained, tapping in her number.
“Jack, where are you?” Rose immediately asked.
“At home. Relaxing and having a coffee with Natasha and Laura.”
“Mortimer got the letter. He called me in and is absolutely livid. He demanded you see him in his office immediately.”
“No doubt wants to commend me, as recommended in the letter,” Jack said mildly.
“Are you nuts? What’re you really drinking? He was literally frothing at the mouth.”
“Sounds like rabies. Someone should shoot him.”
“Damn it, Jack, this isn’t funny.”
Funny? I was serious. “You tell him I’m sick?”
“He didn’t care. He wants to see you now.”
“Sorry, no can do. Doctor’s orders. I’ll get Natasha to write a note if you like.”
Natasha drew a sad face on the pad. “Will that do?” she whispered.
“Do you really think waiting until Monday will make a difference?” Rose asked.
“Word is, the deal may go down on Saturday. Laura and I hope to be watching when it does. Once confirmed, I’ll call Crime Stoppers.”
“Three tonnes,” Rose murmured. “Oh, I hope so,” she added wistfully. “It’d be some consolation. Something I could rub Mortimer’s nose in long after you’re gone.”
“So you’ll let him know I’m refusing to come in until Monday?”
“I’ll tell him. It’s not like he could make things worse for you than he already plans to.”
“Exactly.”
“Any chance Pure E will be around the coke when you call Crime Stoppers?”
“Normally he’d never be that close to the action, but three tonnes is a lot. He may want to see it with his own eyes.”
“I’ll be home Saturday. If you get a chance, stop by and let me know how it’s going. Provided you’re not too sick, of course.”
Rose’s tone was grave. It didn’t match her attempt at humour, but Jack appreciated that she was trying to make the best of things. “I’ll be okay by Saturday. I’ll take two aspirin and go to bed with a doctor.”
Rose was quiet for a moment and he heard her blow her nose. When she spoke, her voice was shaky. “I’m going to miss you, Jack.”
“Thanks, Rose, I’ll be —” He quit talking when he realized she’d hung up.
Chapter Fifty-Six
It was drizzling rain at 9:00 a.m. Saturday when Jack and Laura sought refuge in a coffee shop located not far from the parkade on Seymour Street near West Georgia. Thirty minutes later Whiskey Jake drove past in his white Lexus with Pure E beside him.
Laura went to the door to peer down the street, then returned. “They went into the parkade just like you thought they would,” she reported.
Jack glanced at his watch. “Half an hour early. He’s anxious.”
Another twenty minutes passed before a black stretch limo drove slowly past. Jack grabbed his umbrella and stepped outside with Laura. They saw that the limo had stopped partway down the block. Seconds later Pure E dashed out of the parkade. The rear door of the limo opened as he neared and he quickly got in.
Laura’s voice was a whisper. “That’s it. He’s done.”
Jack wasn’t sure if she was talking to herself or him. He’s done all right. Like a cooked turkey. He reached for his phone. “Now it’s Mortimer’s turn.”
At 10
:40 a.m. Rose answered her door and motioned Jack and Laura inside. “Any news?” she asked anxiously.
“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Jack replied. “Did anyone call you?”
“No. Did you get the coke?”
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen.”
“Oh.” Rose looked glum. “I’m sorry. Come in. I’ll put on some coffee.” As Jack and Laura took off their shoes and jackets, she asked, “Why’d you think I might’ve had a phone call?”
Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “I’m here because I promised to let you know what I’ve been up to.”
Rose no longer looked glum. She looked upset. “What you’ve been up to?”
“Uh —”
“The idea was to tell me before you did something.”
“Oh, was that the promise?” Jack feigned surprise.
“What’ve you done?”
Jack paused, feeling both elated and excited, but knowing Rose wouldn’t feel the same. Well, maybe she’ll get excited, just not in the right way. When he spoke, his voice was matter-of-fact. “Something to ensure that Mortimer doesn’t show up for work on Monday.”
“What?” Rose looked at Laura, who nodded. She turned back to Jack. “How?”
“We found out from our informant that the three-three have been set up on Mortimer’s house for the past few days. They plan to kill him to impress the Russians they’re dealing with.”
“Christ! Are you serious? Have you called him?”
Jack felt smug, but tried not to let it show. “Two months ago he ordered me not to deal with informants. I didn’t want to upset him, so no, I haven’t called him.”
“You didn’t want to upset him?” Rose looked dumbfounded. “We need to warn him!”
Okay, time to nip this in the bud. “I did, through Crime Stoppers. That was about an hour ago. I’m sure the appropriate measures have been taken by now.”
“Oh,” was all Rose uttered. She then gave Jack a hard look. “Why would they target Mortimer? The man’s one of the biggest assets they have.”
“All the informant said was that Pure E wants to impress the Russians with what a tough guy he is.”
“How’d Satans Wrath even know about Mortimer?”
“Finding out who the top guy is isn’t hard. They gather their own intel. They could’ve obtained that information through a simple phone call. After what the bikers pulled on me, they expected some sort of backlash. When none came, it gave them reason to think they could get away with doing whatever they wanted.”
Rose shook her head. “I’m at a loss about what to do. Maybe I better call him and make sure he’s okay.”
“Then he’d wonder how you knew. Why not put the coffee on and —”
Rose’s phone rang and she answered. “Inspector Dyck,” she said, giving Jack a concerned look.
I-HIT? That can’t be good. Jack’s concern was alleviated once it was revealed that I-HIT had been called in as a support unit to interrogate several men suspected of planning a murder. Good. Love it when a plan comes together.
Rose looked at Jack and Laura as she spoke into the phone. “Yes, Jack is likely still the most knowledgeable about the club. I’ll speak to him and Laura, as well.” She then repeated Mortimer’s address as she wrote it down and ended the call by saying, “The three of us will be there within the hour.”
Crap! That’s not in the plan.
Rose sounded stern. “Mortimer and his family are okay. All five members of the three-three were arrested near his house by our tactical units. They’ve been sep-arated and hauled in for interrogation.”
“They won’t say anything,” Jack said, “other than to demand their lawyer.”
“We’ve been requested to meet at Mortimer’s and help analyze the situation and assist with whatever action is deemed necessary,” Rose stated.
Okay, maybe that’s a good thing. I’ll be in a better pos-ition to control what’s said and what happens.
“There’s something else you may find interesting,” Rose added, giving Jack another hard look. “Inspector Dyck said he managed to find out some background information on the tipster.”
He what? That’s supposed to be confidential!
“Which he particularly wants to talk to you about.”
Okay, this is a bad thing.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Jack and Laura, followed by Rose, parked behind a row of both marked and unmarked police cars in front of Mortimer’s house. Although the bikers had been arrested and taken back to the office, several black-clad members of the emergency response team, carrying Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine guns, had remained and set up a security perimeter.
“What do you think?” Laura said. “Maybe they’re here to keep you and me away.”
Normally Jack would have added his own witticism, but his mind was consumed with what Dyck might know. He gave a lopsided grin in response and climbed out of the SUV.
Moments later Jack, Laura, and Rose were greeted at the door by a uniformed officer and ushered into the living room. Inspector Dyck was seated on a sofa alongside two other members of I-HIT — corporals Connie Crane and George Hobbs. Also present was Sergeant Dale Patterson, a supervisor with Protective Policing Service, a unit that usually provided security for foreign dignitaries and politicians. Gee, is the prime minister showing up?
A large stuffed leather chair sat empty and everyone knew not to sit in it. Jack made eye contact with Dyck, who nodded cordially, but looked grave.
Suddenly Mortimer burst into the room. “Okay, they’re still packing their suitcases.” He glanced at the latest arrivals, who were bringing chairs in from the kitchen. “Good, you’re here. We may need your help.”
He looked at me as if there was nothing wrong between us. What an asshole.
Mortimer then sat in the oversize leather chair and directed his next comment at Dyck. “Didn’t you call CFSEU?”
Oh, yeah, all hands on deck when your family is threatened.
“Yes, sir. Sergeant Roger Morris. He’s on his way.”
“I don’t have time to wait!” Mortimer snapped. “Give a rundown on what’s happened to bring everyone up to speed. I want to accompany my wife and daughter when they’re escorted out.”
Dyck nodded. “Crime Stoppers received a tip this morning that a hit squad from Satans Wrath was about to kill Assistant Commissioner Mortimer and said that they were currently awaiting opportunity outside his house.”
“Stop!” Mortimer yelled. He pointed to a uniformed officer standing in the foyer. “Close the living-room drapes immediately!”
Wonder if I should say I think I see a sniper on the roof across the street. Probably not a good idea.
Dyck continued as the curtains were being shut. “Our units were called in and five members of Satans Wrath were located and arrested. Two were in a van parked down the street and three others were located in vehicles parked about two blocks away. A sniper’s rifle equipped with a silencer was recovered from the van, along with two handguns and several bulletproof vests. Camera equipment was also seized.”
“Were they wearing the vests?” Rose asked.
“No, I’m told they were simply stored in the back of the van, along with the guns.”
“What about the vehicles parked nearby?” Jack asked.
“They were clean,” Dyck replied, “but a camera taken from the van showed that several surveillance photos had been taken during the past week. They included Assistant Commissioner Mortimer pulling into his garage, photos of his wife loading groceries into her car, and some of his daughter exiting her car from where she parked to attend university.”
“I wonder why all the photos?” Hobbs said.
“Somebody better find out what was going on!” Mortimer spluttered. “This is about me! My family! It’s outrageous!”
Mortimer breathed heavily for a moment, then his anger dissipated, only to be replaced by fear. His voice trembled, along with his jowls. “I … I don’t understand why. If this’d happened to Assistant Commissioner Isaac it would make sense, but I’ve done everything I can to ensure they’re left alone. It doesn’t make sense. Why would —”
“Sir,” Dyck interjected, “I may have an answer for that. I’ve obtained some information about the tipster.” He leaned forward on the sofa and looked at Jack. “Corporal Crane has spoken to me about you.”
Oh, shit. Jack glanced at Connie, who gazed back without expression. Damn it, Connie. What the hell did you say behind my back?
Dyck cleared his throat. “She said you’re the most knowledgeable about Satans Wrath and have been involved in numerous murders associated with them over the years.”
“What does that have to do with the tipster?” Jack asked.
“I’d like your opinion on whether or not the tipster really knows what he’s talking about.”
Is that all? Connie, is that a smirk? You knew I was nervous! Jack refocused on Dyck. “What do you know about the tipster?”
“It’s my belief he’s a member of Satans Wrath. If I’m right, it would lend more credence to what he said.”
Jack resisted the urge to look at Rose, mostly out of fear that if she saw the innocence he was trying to portray on his face, she’d explode. He kept his gaze on Dyck’s face. “What makes you think that, sir?”
“I found out that this particular tipster has supplied information twice before.”
Jack risked a glance at Rose.
“Twice?” Rose said, looking at Jack.
“Yes, twice,” Dyck confirmed. “Like today, the information supplied before was not only accurate, but involved Satans Wrath. The first tip resulted in the seizure of one hundred and fifty kilos of marijuana destined for Calgary about a month and a half ago.”
Jack saw Rose nod. Yeah, that’s the one I told you about. He turned back to Dyck.
