by Don Easton
“Chuck and Aaron? No, it’s nothing to do with them. You should scoop them up for interrogation right away and grab the computer they’re using. And don’t forget to grab the tracker off my car.”
“I’m going to,” Connie said. “I … I’m … sorry. My mind is still back on what just happened.” She quickened her pace to keep up with Jack. “You’ve got something else?”
“Yes. In about an hour Interpol is going to take down some Satans Wrath members in France with a metric ton of coke. At the same time, the new national president for Canada is giving a speech in Vancouver. I expect he’ll be bragging about their new European connection.”
“Oh, that. I was with Rose this morning and Isaac mentioned it. Rose also talked about your informant taking part in murdering Neal Barlow tonight.”
“She said that?” Jack was shocked that Rose would divulge that information.
“Not exactly. I heard her describe it to Isaac as that ‘delicate matter’ they’d discussed earlier — which was how you described it when you told me Isaac knew that Neal Barlow was going to be murdered. I only presumed that was who they were talking about.”
“Oh … I see.” Jack glanced at her curiously. Her voice sounds so monotone … as if she’s in a trance. It’s not like her to talk about someone being murdered like it’s nothing. “It’s all about the big picture, as you like to call it,” Connie added flatly.
“Exactly. So with what’s happening, I want to get back as soon as possible. I’ve got about three hours’ worth of notes I need to make immediately. It’s too late to catch the last ferry tonight — but I want to be on the first ferry out tomorrow morning at seven. Don’t know if that’s too early for you to head back?”
“No, that’s fine. I’ll be up.”
Jack glanced at Laura and Tina standing under an overhead light, anxiously peering at him through the chain-link fence. As Connie reached to open the gate, he said, “Connie, are you okay?”
Connie glanced at him. “Yeah. I’m okay.” Her voice sounded tired.
“What happened?” Laura demanded as soon as she was face to face with Jack.
“Doringer clued in that I was looking at the tender and pulled a gun,” Jack replied.
“I heard a shot — I thought maybe you were dead.” Laura’s voice caught and she was trembling.
“Nah, still above ground,” Jack replied. “Sorry to scare you.”
Laura took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I should be getting used to feeling like this when I work with you, but I swear my hair is going white. Wonder if I can claim hair colour as a needed expense.”
“So then, what happened?” Tina asked.
“Connie saved my bacon is what happened. She yelled and fired a warning shot to distract him — then I tackled him.”
“A warning shot? No, that’s not what I did!” Connie cried, her monotone gone.
“No? Maybe it was Willy then,” Jack replied. “Somebody did.”
Connie grasped Jack’s arm. “It was me who shot, but I meant to kill —” She gawked at Jack’s collar. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God … your collar. Oh, my God.”
“My collar?”
Laura looked at the collar on Jack’s windbreaker. Her face blanched. “You’ve got a bullet hole through your collar — about a finger’s width away from your throat.”
Jack took his windbreaker off and looked. So that’s why Connie is acting weird.
“Jack, I … I …”
“You tried to kill me, Connie? Christ, I know you disagree with the way I investigate sometimes, but —”
Connie burst into tears.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. He embraced her and rubbed her back. “I was only joking — trying to get you to lighten up. Shit happens.”
“I tried to kill him,” Connie sobbed, “but when I fired … your head appeared in the sights. You saved his life, but I almost killed you instead.” She pushed Jack away. The windbreaker Jack held became like a magnet for her eyes.
“If you hadn’t distracted him,” Jack said, “I’d probably be dead. I owe you my life.”
Connie’s eyes remained glued to the windbreaker. “No, but —”
“No buts about it.” Jack stared at Connie. “You tried to kill him?”
Connie refocused on Jack’s face while using her finger-tips to wipe her cheeks. “I was sure he was about to shoot you.”
“Me, too, but I figured you wouldn’t shoot him until after he fired, so I jumped him.” He paused. “Believe me, it wasn’t to save his life — it was to save mine.”
“That’s good to hear,” Laura said wryly. “For a moment I thought you tried to save him. I was worried about what happened to the real you.”
Jack ignored the comment and continued to look at Connie. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.
Connie let out a big sigh and folded her arms across her chest in an attempt to stop shaking. “I … I just need a moment.”
“Never let the guys see you cry,” Tina advised. “They’ll be on you like a pack of weasels going after a wounded chicken.”
“Yeah, I know,” Connie replied, trying to sound gruff.
Jack eyed the bullet hole in his windbreaker. “Guess I could claim this expense as friendly fire.” He glanced at Connie. “Or, how about I toss it out and in the report claim you fired a warning shot to distract him, thereby saving my life.”
“You don’t lie in your reports,” Connie admonished him.
“Ah, Connie.” Jack shook his head. “I don’t know whether to be proud of you for trying to kill him or frustrated that you won’t fudge a report.”
“I tried to kill him and almost killed you. That’s what my report will say.”
Jack grinned. “That ought to catch Isaac’s attention. He assigns you to keep an eye on me and I save the bad guy from you killing him.” He shook his head. “Yup, the word will be out. You’ve got homicidal tendencies. Maybe they’ll team us up together.”
Connie smiled. “Don’t even suggest that, you son of a bitch.”
Jack chuckled. “Glad you’re back to being you again.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Later that night Jack was in his hotel room writing notes of what had transpired when he received a call from the Interpol office in Ottawa. The news was good. Four full-patch members of Satans Wrath had been arrested, along with three high-level European criminals. An estimated, but as yet not verified, metric ton of cocaine had been seized. The news media in France had already picked up the story. There was little doubt it would quickly go international.
Jack could barely conceal his delight. He tried to imagine how Pure E would respond. By now you’ll have tried to impress everyone with the direction the club will be going under your leadership. Crossing the threshold into Europe with promises of bigger and better things to come. Yup, open the champagne, boys. Wish I could be there to see the look on Pure E’s face when he gets the news.
Two hours later Jack was putting his notebook away when he received another call. This one gave him an inkling of how Pure E responded.
“I don’t have much time, but thought I should let you know,” Cockerill said. “That’s if you don’t know already.”
“Know what?” Jack asked. “Are you still at the party?”
“Yeah, but it ain’t exactly a happy time now,” Cockerill said soberly.
“Oh? I thought Pure E would give a little speech and then everyone would have a good time.”
“It started off that way. Pure E gave us a ‘one for all and all for one’ kind of talk with promises of great things to come. After that, he called all the exec members to huddle around. Then word spread that our ship had come in … literally. We were told that we were taking over a huge chunk of the European market and that somewhere in Europe a boatload of coke was being unloaded at this very moment. Everybody wa
s lookin’ at Pure E like he was a superhero.”
“A boatload? Know any details about it?”
“No, but I’ll get to it. After we were told about it, the party went into high gear. Guys were drinking their faces off.”
“Except you?”
“Not a drop. Besides, I’m going to be working later … you know … Neal.”
“Right. We’ll talk about that in a minute. Continue.”
“Everybody was happy and havin’ a good time until a few minutes ago, then Pure E went crazy. He started swearin’ and smashed his glass against a wall … kickin’ fuckin’ chairs an’ tables over.”
“I wonder what brought that on,” Jack said musingly.
“Word is, our boat got taken down in France.”
“You’re kidding!”
“Nope.”
“I’ll have to check into it later. So tell me about Neal.”
“I’m to pair up with someone from the three-three when things are done here and take my instructions from there. I think it’ll be Pasquale Bazzoli.”
“Your man from Kelowna,” Jack noted. “Why do you think it’ll be him?”
“’Cause he ain’t drinkin’, either. Listen, I better go. Someone might wonder who I’m talkin’ to seein’ as most everyone’s here. Especially with Pure E havin’ just thrown a tantrum.”
“Call me as soon as you’re done tonight,” Jack said.
“Yeah, will do. If I’m paired up with someone, it might not be until morning before I get clear.”
Twenty minutes later Jack entered Laura’s and Tina’s room where a party was underway. The first one to greet him was Connie.
“Chuck and Aaron have both rolled over already,” Connie said, then gave a broad smile.
“That’s great news, Connie.”
“We sure as hell couldn’t have done it without you, Laura, and Tina. I was ready to shelve the investigation until you guys did what you did.”
“So Chuck and Aaron confessed,” Jack stated.
“Yup. They were picked up and immediately separated. Both gave almost identical statements saying they saw Doringer shoot Dwayne. They also admitted to helping him load concrete blocks into his dinghy and tow the body out to sea where they weighed it down and let it go. We’ve got a really strong case.”
“How much time do you think Doringer will get?” Laura asked.
Connie shrugged. “I don’t know. I suspect Defence will see that a conviction is probable and negotiate for a guilty plea to get a reduced sentence — unless the bad guys go through legal aid, and then it could be drawn out for as long as possible so the lawyers can make some money.” Connie paused a moment. “Which might be better because they’d likely end up serving longer sentences.”
“Doringer has a boat and probably money from dope,” Jack noted. “Aaron and Chuck also own a business. They’ll be hiring good lawyers.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Connie nodded. “In that case, considering that it wasn’t premediated, I’d say Doringer’s looking at serving from six to eight years of actual time.”
“I’d say our success calls for a drink,” Jack said, intentionally ignoring the clamor in his brain that said Doringer’s likely sentence was not nearly what he deserved for killing an innocent man.
“Did I hear someone say a drink?” Vivian asked as she approached. “What about me? Everyone forgets about the poor girl stuck in the monitor room.”
“Vivian, how the hell could I ever forget about you?” Jack gave her a hug. “You’re the one who pieced it together.”
“Yeah, I told everyone the project is now code-named ‘Olive Soup.’ You going to make me one?”
“Damn right.” Jack poured two martinis, one for himself and one for Vivian. After taking a sip he grinned at Vivian, then took Laura aside.
“Have you heard from France?” Laura asked anxiously.
“Yes, it’s a done deal.” He quietly updated her on what had happened, including Cockerill’s description of Pure E’s response.
“Perfect,” Laura said. “It’s the icing on the cake. Not only did we destroy Damien, but turning on his own guys will stick in his craw for the rest of his life.”
“I feel like a lifelong mission is complete,” Jack replied.
Laura raised her glass. “I think we can call this a good day. A murderer behind bars, a ton of coke seized, and a bunch of bad guys in jail.”
Jack smiled and they clinked glasses.
“And you still being alive,” she added solemnly, before taking a sip.
Up till then, Jack had been too busy to think about how close he’d come to dying. “That too,” he replied. I almost died today … again. He took a sip of his martini and thought about what was the most precious to him. Natasha … Mike … Steve … I love you guys so much. How many times have I tempted fate?
“What’re you thinking?” Laura asked.
“That maybe my work in the fast lane is done,” Jack replied just as solemnly.
Chapter Fifty-Three
At 8:45 a.m. Jack drove off the ferry on the Vancouver side. Laura sat beside him and Tina and Connie were in the back seat. He’d barely cleared the terminal when Connie received a phone call. Her polite hello and brief explanation to say she’d just arrived changed to anger. “Where?” she abruptly asked.
Jack made eye contact with her in the rear-view mirror. She scowled at him. What the hell? Last night you were hugging me.
“He’s with me right now,” Connie said, “and I’m positive the message is for him.”
Message? Cockerill hasn’t called yet. Did he get caught and is hoping I can get him off?
“Yeah, we’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Connie hung up.
“We’ll be where in fifteen minutes?” Jack said. “If you’re talking headquarters it’ll take —”
“We’re going to a murder scene.” Connie spoke harshly. “That was Corporal Lyle Roster on the phone. He’s with I-HIT and is waiting for us.”
“I’ve got a lot of reports to do back at the office,” Jack replied. “I think I should —”
“It involves you!” Connie snapped.
So … they found Neal’s body. “I explained to you before that I can’t assist in, uh, certain homicides,” Jack replied. “Also, if it’s who I think it is, neither of us can get personally involved in the investigation.”
“You’ll want to see this,” Connie said. “There was a personal message left for you at the scene.”
Jack was momentarily too stunned to speak. “Where to?” he finally asked.
“The Barlow farmhouse.”
“What happened? What’s the message?”
“You need to see it for yourself,” Connie replied. She folded her arms across her chest and stared silently out the passenger window.
Fifteen minutes later Jack drove along the gravel road leading to the farmhouse. Smoke billowed high in the sky. Once they arrived he saw that the barn was completely engulfed in flames and being attended to by the fire department.
“Park here,” ordered Connie, gesturing to an empty spot behind a row of police vehicles.
Jack did as instructed. “I presume we need to wait until they douse the flames.”
“It’s not the barn you need to see. Follow me,” Connie replied.
Jack followed Connie and ducked under the yellow plastic tape protecting the crime scene. Laura and Tina trailed behind. When they arrived outside the front door to the farmhouse, Connie spoke briefly to a member of the Forensic unit. Then she looked at Tina. “This doesn’t involve you. Wait here.”
As Tina nodded her reply, the roof on the barn collapsed and everyone turned to watch. Smoke and ash billowed into the air but nobody commented. Then they looked at one another. The tension was almost palpable.
The member from Forensics handed out shoe cove
rs to preserve the integrity of the scene inside the farmhouse. Connie, Jack, and Laura quietly put them on. As they did, Lyle Roster appeared in the doorway. “Glad you’re here, Connie. I should warn you. It’s a stomach churner.”
Jack and Laura exchanged a glance, then followed Connie and Roster into the living room. The stench of burned hair and flesh hung like a sticky clammy mist in the air. It clung to their clothes and skin.
It was a smell Jack recognized from years earlier when the young prostitute Crystal was murdered. He knew that his clothes and body could be washed, but it was what remained in the fibres of his brain that would last forever.
They were led through the living room to the kitchen. The first thing Jack saw were two blackened grotesque figures tied with duct tape to kitchen chairs. He realized the long charred braid on one figure belonged to Roxie. Her crotch and chest had been burned. In some places the fabric of her clothing was melted into her skin. Her throat and face were charred and black with soot. Remnants of tape were still stuck to her mouth.
He stared at the burned and twisted figure in the chair facing her. He only realized it was her husband, Bob, when he saw Neal’s body trussed up on the floor. Neal had not been burned. His death had come from numerous knife wounds — accompanied by disembowelment.
“Over there,” Connie pointed across the room.
Jack stared at a bloodied broom lying on the floor, then his eyes drifted up the wall. The broom had been used to paint a message in blood. It read “4 U JT.”
Jack heard Laura gasp, then saw her charge back out through the living room. Is she going to vomit, or just trying to escape from hell? He swallowed the bile that had risen to his throat, then looked at Connie.
“Is this what you call ‘a delicate matter’?” she screamed in anger.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Basil Westmount had barely arrived at work when his secretary told him she had a woman on the phone who worked at Edward Gosling’s law firm and wished to speak to him about Buck Zabat. “Put her through,” Basil said.
