by Don Easton
“The second time was last Sunday,” Dyck continued. “The tipster gave a stash location for what turned out to be ninety-five kilos of cocaine. Unfortunately, unbeknownst to our members, the bikers spotted them setting up on the stash. The tipster alerted Crime Stoppers again. Although no arrests were made, all the cocaine was seized.”
Jack felt dryness in his throat and swallowed as he forced himself to remain focused on Dyck.
“This morning when the tipster called, he said that Mortimer was being targeted because the top guy in Satans Wrath was —”
Jack interrupted to say to Mortimer, “That’d be Purvis Evans, alias Pure Evil, alias Pure E. You may recall that his name came up a couple of months ago?”
Mortimer appeared irked. “Yes, I remember.”
“Uh, anyway,” Dyck went on, “the tipster said that Pure E is arranging to purchase three tonnes of cocaine from some Russians.”
“Three tonnes,” Mortimer repeated. “That sounds like a lot. Is it a lot?”
“Yes, sir, it’s a lot,” Jack replied.
“To let me finish,” Dyck said, “Crime Stoppers was told that Pure E is looking to impress the Russians with his power by murdering you. Apparently it’s his belief that you’re weak and —”
“Weak?” Mortimer exclaimed. “Don’t they realize I’m a commissioned officer?” He looked bewildered. “If they think I’m weak, what must they think about the rest of you?”
A silence fell on the room, then Dyck resumed. “The tipster indicated that they viewed you as someone who was afraid to come after them. They concluded that due to your high rank, you were representative of our leadership. Apparently they felt that they could assassinate you without any serious repercussions — yet still impress the Russians by murdering a high-ranking official.”
Mortimer’s mouth open and closed a couple of times, but nothing came out.
“Jack, this is where I’d like your opinion,” Dyck said. “Knowing how accurate the tipster has been about the inner workings of Satans Wrath, do you think he could actually be one of their members?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Jack replied. “It could well be someone in their executive level who hopes to take over by making Pure E look bad to the others.”
“Any idea who in the club might do that?” Dyck asked.
“Damn it, forget about what biker wants to take over the club,” Mortimer said. “We need to focus on what’s happening today. My situation.” He looked at Dyck and then Rose. “Did something like this ever happen to Assistant Commissioner Isaac when he was in charge? If so, what did he do?”
“I don’t believe he ever faced a situation like this,” Jack responded, “but perhaps you should call him. He’s read lots of reports about Satans Wrath over the years submitted by numerous law-enforcement agencies.”
“Not a bad idea,” Mortimer said. “I’ll do that now.” He retrieved a cellphone from his pocket and called Isaac. After explaining what had happened, he then named who was in the room with him. After a pause he looked at Jack. “He wants to speak to you and suggested I put you on speaker.”
Isaac’s voice boomed into the room. “Corporal Taggart?”
“Yes, sir, I’m listening.”
“You had an informant connected to Satans Wrath. The one you referred to as Weenie Wagger. Hasn’t he heard anything?”
Jack smiled to himself. He’d told Isaac about Cockerill’s death when Isaac warned him that Mortimer wasn’t going to authorize his operational plan. Okay, I’ll play along. “Uh, no, sir. Assistant Commissioner Mortimer doesn’t believe I’m experienced enough to handle informants. I was told to turn the one I had over to CFSEU. I did, and then he either committed suicide or died of an accidental drug overdose. We’re not sure which.”
“I see, but surely with your ability as an undercover operative and the surveillance you do, you must have had some inkling that something was going on. It sounds to me that if Crime Stoppers hadn’t been lucky enough to receive the information when they did, the consequences could’ve been disastrous.”
“No, sir. Assistant Commissioner Mortimer ordered me not to work on Satans Wrath or do any undercover operations. We’ve taken a new direction since you left.”
“A new direction? So what have you been doing?”
“Well, this winter during the evenings I intend to take classes to improve my French and my standing within the force, but for now I’ve been spending most of my time liaising with Canada Border Security to learn how they catch smugglers and correlate their information to see if there are certain trends.”
“I see. That certainly is a new direction.” Isaac paused, then addressed Mortimer. “Ralph, I wonder if you shouldn’t reconsider your decision to leave the bikers alone. Perhaps you really should look into them.”
“Me?” Mortimer exclaimed. “I’m not looking into them! It’s me they’re threatening … and my family! I need to be transferred forthwith.”
Jack waved his hand to catch Mortimer’s attention. “Sir, about taking a transfer, these guys have chapters right across Canada and in at least forty other countries.”
Mortimer’s eyes bugged. “Did you hear that?” he yelled. “These guys are everywhere!”
“I don’t believe any of them are in the Arctic region, if that helps,” Jack said.
Mortimer looked aghast. “I … I need protection!” he stammered.
Yeah, dicks like you need protection. Let me run out and buy you a condom.
“Perhaps a transfer to a northern location might be the right move,” Isaac said. “Maybe then they’d forget about you. What do you think, Corporal Taggart?”
“They might forget and they might not,” Jack said. “The problem is the arrest of Satans Wrath’s three-three team today will be a big blow to their ego, as well as their standing in our society’s criminal element. As long as Assistant Commissioner Mortimer is alive, he’ll be a constant reminder of their failure. That won’t sit well with them.”
“Oh, God,” Mortimer groaned.
Isaac was silent for a moment and Jack wondered if he’d gone too far. When Isaac did speak, his voice sounded grave. “Ralph, I believe you’re fortunate to be alive — and I sincerely mean that.”
Come on, sir. I wouldn’t really have him killed.
“I recommend you assign Corporal Taggart back to his previous duties. If anyone can find out what future plans Satans Wrath have in regard to you, he can.”
“Yes … yes of course,” Mortimer replied. “Consider it done. Immediately.” He looked at Jack, Laura, and Rose. “Go! Whatever it is you used to do — get out there and find out what’s going on!”
Dyck jumped on the opportunity to leave. “Sir, I’d like to go with my investigators and see if anything develops in the interrogations of the suspects.”
“Yes, of course. Go!”
Jack saw Rose glaring at him as they stood to leave. He knew he was already in trouble, but couldn’t help himself. “Au revoir, le commissaire-adjoint Mortimer.”
Mortimer appeared to be elsewhere in his thoughts, but he gave Jack an encouraging nod. “Adieu, Caporal Taggart.”
Jack walked out with Connie while Rose was putting on her shoes. He then nudged her with his elbow and said, “Thanks for telling Dyck that you considered me the most knowledgeable about Satans Wrath. I take that as a compliment.”
Connie gave him a sideways glance. “Yeah? I also told him you’ve been involved in numerous murders over the years. Sounded like he got his wires crossed and thought I meant Satans Wrath and not you.”
“Oh.”
Yeah … oh.” Connie looked perplexed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I wish I hadn’t said that. You probably took it as a compliment, too.”
“Maybe a little.”
“You’re an asshole.”
�
��So I’ve been told.”
Connie sighed. “Your work is different than mine. I don’t like getting involved in what you call the big picture, but I guess someone has to do it. I respect that you’re good at what you do.”
“Thanks, Connie. Glad you’re talking to me again. I’ve missed you.”
“I sure as hell didn’t miss you.”
“Not even a little?”
“Yeah, maybe a little. Like a dog missing its fleas.”
Jack smiled to himself. Connie left just as Laura and Rose joined him.
“Okay, tell me what the hell’s really been going on,” Rose demanded.
“Going on?”
“You never told me about the ninety-five kilos of cocaine! Was that part of the three tonnes?”
“Some of it might’ve been. My informant told me they’d received a sample of twenty-five kilos of cocaine from the Russians. Later we discovered the bikers were changing stash locations for their coke and called Crime Stoppers in time to intercept.”
“Then why do I think you’re still holding something back from me?”
“I’m doing my best,” Jack replied, sounding like his feelings were hurt.
“Your best? Your best isn’t telling me things after the fact! Your best is to sit down with me and discuss what you plan on doing before —”
“Hang on, I’m getting a text. Maybe it’s my informant.” Jack read the text and smiled to himself. Gotta let Rose see this. He glanced nervously at her and partially turned his body as if trying to hide what he read. She took the bait.
“Who’s it from? Your informant? Show me!” Rose demanded.
Jack held his phone so Rose and Laura could both read the text. It was from Isaac.
DON’T KNOW HOW YOU DID IT & DON’T WANT TO KNOW
BUT IF YOU HAVE TIME TODAY I’D LIKE TO POUR YOU A SCOTCH.
Rose looked at Jack in surprise. “Isaac is inviting you to his house for a drink?”
“Nice of him, but Scotch … I don’t know,” Jack said. “I’d prefer a martini.”
Rose grimaced.
“What’s wrong? I’m only joking. Of course I’ll go see him.”
“What’s wrong?” Rose seemed taken back. “I’ve always respected Isaac. He’s one of the smartest men I’ve ever met.”
“I agree. So?”
“He obviously believes you had a hand in what happened today, yet still thinks the world of you.”
“Guess he has faith in me and trusts me to do what’s right.”
Rose turned on her heel and left.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
It had been two hours since Pure E approached the limo. His eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness when he’d leaned inside the opened passenger door. That was when Thor had grabbed him by the neck and collar, literally jerking him off his feet. His throat made a gasping, gurgling sound as he was slammed to the floor of the limo and punched repeatedly in the stomach, leaving him gasping for air.
As the limo drove off, Thor maintained his grip, pinning him to the floor by his throat while Carl wrapped duct tape around his mouth. Seconds later his ankles were zip-tied together, followed by his wrists zip-tied through the zip-tie on his ankles, forcing him to remain in a fetal position.
Pure E was dazed and in shock. The men he saw in the back of the limo were Gypsy Devils — Carl Shepherd, Norman Thorsen, and David Greene. They must know I put a hit out on them, but how’d they know about the Russians and when to pick me up? His mind raced. Whiskey Jake! That fucking bastard! He even brought me early so the Russians wouldn’t show up at the same time.
Thor delivered a punch to his face, splattering his nose and leaving a taste in the back of his mouth like he’d been sucking on a copper pipe. Christ, they’re going to kill me!
“Easy does it,” Carl cautioned. “Don’t want to get Mouse’s limo all bloody. We’ll have lots of time for that soon.”
Thirty minutes later the limo pulled into a garage and the overhead door was shut. Mickey O’Bryan then opened the rear door to the limo and grabbed him by the hair and dragged him out onto the cement floor. Oh, fuck … no. I’m lying on a plastic sheet! This is it. This is where I’m gonna die.
Pure E knew all too well what the plastic sheet was for. Bloody messes were much easier to clean up. His eyes betrayed the terror he felt when his clothes were taken from his body. A box cutter was used to slash away at them because the zip-ties made yanking them off impossible.
Over the next hour Pure E endured unfathomable pain, but he didn’t die. He only wished he could. Thor had told him not to worry about all the bloody cuts on his body. He said he’d cauterize them for him … and lit a propane torch.
Eventually Pure E lost consciousness. If he’d been lucky, he would’ve stayed unconscious. Instead, he came to as he was being hauled out of a van in a small clearing surrounded by a chain-link fence.
A shipping container! Maybe they’re going to lock me in there! I might be found.
He was dragged into the container and Carl kicked him in the ribs to get his attention. “Hope you don’t mind us using your incinerator, do ya?”
The other Gypsy Devils laughed, and then Carl opened the lid on the hopper.
Pure E frantically tried to twist away while trying in vain to beg for his life through the tape over his mouth. His muffled utterances seemed to bring only pleasure to the men looking down at him. They laughed.
Seconds later he was hoisted by the arms and lifted to the edge of the loading chamber.
“Take a look,” Carl said. “One of your guys left a message for ya!”
Pure E’s head was lowered, but someone grabbed him by the hair and jerked his face upward. The message scrawled in lipstick on the inside of the hopper lid read 4 U Pure E.
Pure E knew then that Whiskey Jake wasn’t to blame. The handwriting had not been made by a left-handed person, which Whiskey Jake was. His thoughts were interrupted when he was dumped into the chamber and the lid closed. As he lay waiting in the darkness, he pieced it together. Taggart! He set this up!
The instant roar of the flames sounded like a jet engine and the intensity of the heat was immediate. For a moment his body writhed in the eerie red glow.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
At 7:30 a.m. Monday Lance saw Whiskey Jake arrive at the Westside chapter clubhouse and went outside to meet him.
“Anything?” Whiskey Jake asked.
“No. Our guys have done round-the-clock surveillance downtown, but there’s been nothing.”
“Pure E mentioned that they only come to Canada on occasion.”
“Bet they don’t turn up downtown. They might even know we’re watching.”
Whiskey Jake let out a string of curses, then said, “It’s all because of the three-three. They couldn’t have got grabbed at a worse time. That’s what freaked the Russians out.”
“Yeah, it’s not looking good, that’s for sure.”
“No shit,” Whiskey Jake replied. “Hang on, my phone’s vibrating. It’s the one Rat Cop gave me!” He quickly answered and held the phone so Lance could hear.
“You’ve got a problem,” Lance heard Jack say. “A big one.”
“You heard? Whaddaya know? ” Whiskey Jake replied.
“Of course I heard. Five of your guys being arrested outside of Mortimer’s house is big news.”
“Oh, that,” Whiskey Jake said without enthusiasm. “Yeah, our lawyer says they’ll all get out this morning.”
“They were all separated and interrogated.”
Whiskey Jake gave a snort. “That’s no big surprise.”
“This might be. One of them was offered one-point-five mil to become a rat.”
“One-point-five?” Whiskey Jake exclaimed.
“Yeah, and he accepted.”
“No way! You’re bullshitting me! None of ’em w
ould ever do that.”
Lance frowned. Jesus, Jack. What’re you up to?
“I’m not bullshitting,” Jack said. “The guy who blabbed gave details about Damien’s murder and how Vicki was suffocated with plastic wrap in some prospect’s house out in Abbotsford. Even supplied a map to some animal incinerator they used to get rid of the bodies.”
“No! Oh, fuck, no!” Whiskey Jake turned ashen.
“Believe me now?”
“Who blabbed? Who was it?”
“That’s the bad news. I’m not privy to that. It’s being kept secret.”
“When will the arrests happen?”
“Guess that’s the good news. They don’t think his word would be accepted in court without a lot more corroboration. They want to wire up the incinerator and someplace out in Stanley Park where you and your buddies meet. They’re hoping to catch Pure E on a wiretap giving orders.”
“Oh, fuck. Is there any way you can find out who’s talking?”
“No, and I have to go. Maybe I can call you later today.”
Whiskey Jake turned to Lance when the call ended. “I feel like I got punched in the gut. Pure E’s not around. What the fuck we gonna do?”
“What can we do? We can’t go and kill five of our own guys for the sake of one. We need to sit tight and keep our noses clean until we figure out who the rat is.”
Whiskey Jake looked stunned. “The thing is, now we can’t use anyone from the three-three without putting ourselves in jeopardy.”
Which is what Jack wanted. “Obviously.”
“Which means we may never find out. We won’t be able to use any of them again.”
Lance pretended to ponder the situation. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing.”
“Whaddaya mean?”
“All this shit started when Pure E came to power. Up to then, it’d been years since we had to waste anyone. Damien never operated that way. Pure E’s been too much of a loose cannon. We need to change. Torturing people, threatening cops … look what it’s got us. Our younger guys need to be taught.”
