“Just after ten AM. Listen buddy, you hang in there,” I try to sound positive but that’s not really my long suit. “Keep us informed and if there’s anything we can do, just let us know.”
“Thanks Nick. I appreciate it.” He pauses for a moment. “I’ll check her Instagram post when I get a moment.”
“Don’t you worry about that. We’ll handle the Instagram posts. Oh, and we got a break with the guys who planted the drugs on us.”
“That’s great Nick. What have you—” I hear voices in the background. “Listen, I’ve got to go. One of the doctors just came in. I’ll call you later.”
“Stay positive and keep us posted,” I say, but he’s hung up.
I put down the phone and look up. Four eyes are drilling into me.
“What’s happened?” Adry asks.
When I’ve told them, they’re both in tears. Lucy is taking it real bad.
I try not to think what would happen if something like that happened to Stewart and it was my fault. If I think about that I’ll be bawling too, just when I need to be strong.
I let them cry it out for a bit, then say, “Remember Tina’s young and she’s strong. If an old bird like me can survive being shot and damn near choked to death like I did six months ago, she’ll pull through just fine.”
They dab their eyes and try to smile. I change the subject. “OK ladies, we need to work out what to say to Zelena and how we’re gonna handle what we learned from Roland.”
“OK ladies?!” Lucy says giving me a lop-sided grin. “What century are we in Dad?”
Adry tries to hold in a laugh. She fails.
“Alright, alright,” I say, faking grumpiness. “Let’s get to work.” But all I can think about is Tina lying in that hospital. I force the image out of my mind. “Zelena first. Let’s do some brainstorming. Adry, just before Rogan called, you were going to say something about sending a message to Zelena.”
“Yes,” she says, “We need to do two things. We need to tell her we’re coming to help her and we need to get her to give us a clue, any clue, as to where she might be.”
“The first one’s easy, just mention Mighty Mouse.” I just get blank looks. “You know, here he comes to save the day, Mighty Mouse is on his way…?” More blank looks. “OK, wrong generation,” I grunt. Maybe I’m getting too old for this stuff. “It was a cartoon back in the day,” I explain.
A look comes into Adry’s eye. “Maybe a pop-culture reference would work,” she says. “A song maybe.”
An image of my father pops into my head. I usually try not to think about him. “Lucy, do you remember your grandfather? He used to kinda sing quietly to himself all the time.” Lucy nods and smiles. Her memories of him are good ones. He’d mellowed by the time she was a kid. “He loved a group from back in his day called The Doors. He was always singing one that went something like, And we’re on our way, and we can’t go back.”
Adry smiles. “Wrong generation agai—ˮ
“The Royal Concept!” Lucy whoops. She looks at us and laughs. “Your faces!” she says. “There’s a Swedish rock band called The Royal Concept. Their best known song is called 'On Our Way.”
“Yeah, but she might not know them.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she says. “We could do an Instagram post as Matt Standing and say something like. 'Just downloaded a great song by The Royal Concept, On Our Way.’”
“Might be a bit obvious,” I say.
“Maybe we can be a little less obvious,” Adry says. “Wait a minute.” She turns to her keyboard and taps away for a second. “Look at this.” She turns her computer round so we can see the screen. There’s a brightly-coloured image with the words ON OUR WAY. “It’s the cover for the song. We can use it as the picture on the post.”
“Alright! Now we’re getting somewhere. Good work you guys.”
I can tell Lucy is pleased. She says, “That will tell her we’re trying to get to her but how do we ask her to give us a clue as to where she is? She doesn’t even know where she is herself.”
We lapse into silence.
This is a more difficult problem. “It’s a puzzle,” I say.
They both nod. “It sure is a puzz—ˮ Adry sits bolt upright in her chair. She turns her computer around and starts tapping at the keyboard. A big smile spreads over her face. She turns it back so we can see it again.
“How did you—ˮ
“My little brother. He loves games and puzzles. Whenever I visit my parents he always wants me to play this with him.”
It’s perfect. Now we’re getting somewhere.
My phone rings.
When I see the caller ID the good feeling disappears. It’s my former partner, former boss, at VPD.
“Hi, Steve,” I say.
“Hey Nick,” he says. The tone of his voice says more: he’s got bad news. “I’m going to need to speak with Rogan.”
“He’s out of town, Steve,” I tell him.
“Where?”
I think for a moment but I can’t find a reason not to tell him. “Hong Kong.”
“When’s he due back?”
“I dunno. Depends on how he does on the case.”
He goes silent.
But not quite. I can hear the sound of muffled words. He’s talking to someone but he’s got his hand over the phone. I strain to hear what he’s saying. There’s two voices but I can’t quite catch what’s being said.
He comes back on. “Listen Nick, you know that briefcase full of drugs we found in your office—ˮ
“Jeez Steve, I don’t remember…” I say in my innocent voice. “Hmmm…Wait a minute… Oh yeah, now I remember. The one the fuckin’ drug squad arrested me for,” I say.
“Yes. I’m sorry about that. They now know you weren’t involved.” He takes in a deep breath. “We’ve got some new evidence.” Now I’m all ears. Maybe they’re onto the scam that was pulled on us. “We think this is all down to Rogan. We’ve got a warrant for his arrest.”
“You can’t be serious. This is bullshit. What new evidence are you talking about?”
“You know I can’t discuss that with you, Nick.”
“I told you, those drugs were planted on us. We even know the name of the person behind it.”
“I admire your loyalty to Cal but you have to face facts. He’s screwed you on this.”
“First, I can’t face your so-called facts if you won’t tell me what they are. And second…” I stop in mid-sentence. I don’t have a second.
“Alright,” he says, “I’ll tell you. The drug squad has a picture of Rogan talking with a drug dealer about six months ago.” He’s talking about the time Rogan had his little relapse. “We believe the drugs in that briefcase came from the same dealer. We estimate the street value of those drugs at around two hundred and fifty grand.”
“The guys who planted the drugs on us scammed a client of ours for five million. They could afford it.”
Silence with muffled talk again.
“If what you say is right, why would they spend a quarter of a mil just to make you look bad?”
Maybe he’s got a point. The same question has always been in the back of my mind too. Why would they— Wait a minute. Maybe there’s another explanation. “In the suitcase, there was a big Ziploc bag with a bunch of smaller bags inside, right?”
“Yeah.” It’s not much more than a grunt.
“What was in the small bags?”
“Heroin. Bad shit too. Cut with fentanyl and a whole bunch of stuff with long chemical names. This batch would have caused a lot of deaths if it had got onto the streets.”
“How many bags, did you test?”
“I don’t know. The lab probably randomly sampled two or three. They’re pretty busy.”
“Maybe not all the bags have drugs in them. Maybe just a few of the bags on the top.”
“Come on Nick, you’re just clutching at straws.”
“Maybe I am, but if you arrest Rogan, his lawyer’s going to ask you if you teste
d every bag.” He goes silent. “Maybe you should have all the facts before you think about falsely arresting someone.”
“Just tell Rogan to call me, OK.”
He hangs up leaving me to worry.
As I think over the call, I realize I may have screwed up. What if all the baggies do actually contain drugs? If they test them now, it will remove a seed of doubt that our lawyer, Jim Garry, might have been able to use in court.
Maybe I should have kept my big mouth shut.
20
Adry
I was never into pot. As I walk through the shop door, the smell gives me a flashback: as a kid, both my parents used to smoke it, and I remember just how much I hated that smell. But I’ve got to say the decor is amazing, all white and lime-green. It looks kind of healthy and hip at the same time. Now it’s legal, I guess some of the money that was made when it was illegal has found its way into the legit economy. The guy behind the counter fits Roland’s description, Caucasian, medium height and muscular, with one side of his head shaved and the hair on the other side kind of longish and greasy-looking. His name tag confirms his identity. If this is the guy who paid Roland to scam us, I’m guessing he’s just a front. He doesn’t look like he’s got the brains to plan something like this. Roland said he just knows his first name, my job is to find out who he really is.
“Hi Lee,” I say with my sexiest smile. “I’m Skye, I’m a friend of Roland’s.” Nick said it wouldn’t be a good idea to tell him my real name. I just hope Roland does as we told him. Nick promised to keep his name out of our investigation if he cooperates.
“Oh, yeah, he said you’d be in,” he says. He looks me up and down and his eyes settle on my boobs, encased in my sexiest bra; in this case, it’s a good sign. After he’s had his little stare, he smiles and says, “Roland and I go way back. How can I help you, Skye?”
“He told me you have some real good local bud.”
“Sure do.” He points at the display of pot under the glass counter. “That one on your right. It’s excellent. World class.”
“How much?” I ask.
He tells me and I can’t keep the surprise out of my face; luckily I don’t need to. It fits with the plan. I lean in towards him. “That’s a bit out of my price range.” I give him a smile. “As a friend of Roland’s I don’t suppose you could, I don’t know…” I lean further in and bite my bottom lip for a second, “…find a reason to give me a discount.”
He smiles and looks up and over my shoulder. I’m guessing he’s checking a camera. He licks his lips nervously. “I can’t give you an actual discount,” he says. “But if you were to buy, like, half of what you need now, I could deliver the other half, free, this evening.”
“It’s a deal,” I say. “Could you bring it to me at my apartment?”
“Absolutely,” he says.
“You are so sweet,” I say. I reach over and touch him on the arm. “We could maybe smoke a joint together.” I get out my phone. “I live in the west end. Text me when you’re ready to deliver and I’ll text back the address.” I give him the number of the burner phone that I picked up on my way here. “What’s your number?” I ask. When he gives it I tap it into my phone and look up into his eyes. “…and what’s your last name, Lee?”
He smiles. “Let’s keep some mystery,” he says in what he must think is a sexy voice. “First names only.”
Damn! He’s not as stupid as he looks. I knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.
I give him a big smile. “I like that.”
So it’s all down to Plan B.
Roland better stick to the script we gave him if Lee calls him again.
I am so lucky to have Jason as a boyfriend. As soon as I told him about the plan to check into Lee, he said we should use his apartment rather than mine. He doesn’t want Lee to have my real address. Lee texted me twenty minutes ago and he should be here any minute now. We are standing in the underground garage waiting for him. Jason has an arm protectively around my shoulder. It feels nice. I tell him I love him and he gives me a kiss, which makes me all tingly. When this is over, I’m going to drag him back upstairs and—
My phone chirps. It’s a text from Lee. I’m here.
I text Nick first and then text Lee back. Drive down the ramp to the garage and I’ll open the door for you.
Jason and I move into the elevator lobby so we can’t be seen through the garage door.
OK. I’m at the garage door, he texts.
On my way down, I reply.
I wait for Nick’s text but it doesn’t come. I look at Jason and he shrugs. “I don’t know if I can do it without Nick,” I say.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “We can do it.”
God, I love this guy.
We wait.
My phone chirps again. There are two texts at the same time. Nick’s is a thumbs-up emoji. Lee’s is three question marks. I nod at Jason and he presses the fob to open the garage door. I walk out of the elevator lobby back onto the garage floor. As the door becomes fully open, Lee’s Corvette purrs in. It’s an older model and has a personalized plate, POT R US. I move into one of the visitor parking spots and wave him over. Nick’s truck follows him in. Lee pulls into the parking spot and Nick brings his truck to a halt right behind him, blocking any chance of him making an exit. Lee doesn’t notice and gets out of his car. He gives me a big smile. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jason circle round so that he’s about ten meters on the other side of the Corvette.
Lee swaggers over. He waves a brown paper bag. “Hey babe,” he says. “Let’s party.”
I hear the purr of the electric motor on Nick’s ramp. So does Lee. He turns. “What the f—ˮ
“Here’s the deal, Lee,” I say. “You’re going to give us some information and I’m going to let you leave unharmed and get on with your pathetic life.”
He turns back to me as Nick rolls up beside me. He looks down at Nick and I can see the light dawn. “Roland gave me up, did he?” I don’t know whether the sneer is for me, for Nick or for Roland. All three probably.
“Yes,” Nick says, “and you’re gonna give up the name of the person who gave you the order to screw us over.”
“Not a chance.” He says it quietly and there’s a different tone in his voice. I’m not sure how to interpret it.
“It would be better for you if you co-operated, Lee,” I say.
“I don’t think so,” he says. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with bitch.”
Jason has moved up behind him. “Don’t talk to her like that,” he says.
I have to hand it to Lee. He doesn’t turn around. He may be more dangerous than I thought.
“We need a name,” Nick says.
I see the subtle change in his posture as he balances on the balls of his feet. Before I can shout a warning, he spins and his foot comes up and jabs hard into Jason’s chest, crashing him backwards into the side of the Corvette. It’s a good kick but not black-belt level. I can handle this. As Lee’s leg snaps down, his fist is heading for my face. Deflect, hold, twist, pull. Using his own momentum, I throw him to the concrete and follow him down. I’m rewarded with the thud of his head on the hard, grey surface and the ooof of breath as my shoulder slams into his chest. I put a lock on his hand, hard enough to be painful but with a lot in reserve. His eyes flicker open and I almost laugh at the surprise in them. I hear Nick’s voice over my shoulder. “What did you say that was?” he says.
“Krav Maga,” I say. “It’s an Israeli martial art.”
“Huh,” he grunts. “Well done.”
Lee starts to struggle and I increase the pressure. He yelps.
“Are you OK, sweetie?” I throw over my shoulder.
“I think I’ll live,” Jason replies.
Nick leans forward in his chair. “OK ass-wipe,” he says. “Who’s behind this?”
“Not a chance,” he says again. And this time I recognize the tone. Fear.
I increase the pressure on his hand and he writ
hes underneath me. I increase it more.
“Arrrgh,” he yells out in pain.
I look up at Nick, the obvious question on my face.
He nods and I bear down on Lee’s hand.
“I can’t tell you!” he screams.
“More,” Nick says.
I increase the pressure.
“They’ll kill me if I tell you,” Lee shrieks.
“More.”
I say, “I can’t Nick. If I do, I’ll start to break stuff.”
Lee is whimpering and Nick is thinking. I hear his wheelchair move. “OK. Plan C,” he says. “Come and give me a hand, Jason.”
I relax the pressure just a little and Lee exhales.
For a few moments, I hear them rustling around and muttering behind me until Nick says, “Got it.”
I look Lee in the eye. “OK,” I say. “In a moment I am going to let you up. You are not going to try anything, because if you do, I will break at least one bone. You are going to go and sit in your car and after my partner has moved his truck, you are going to leave here and never come back. Understood?”
He nods.
Keeping the lock on his hand, I stand up and let him get to his feet.
“If I were you,” Nick says, “I would forget this ever happened. If your bosses heard about it, it would reflect very badly on you.”
I let go and he slinks over to his car, massaging his hand, and gets into the driver’s seat.
Nick wheels over to the open passenger door. “I’m gonna move my truck so th—ˮ
In a blur of motion, Lee leans over and snaps open the glove box. I feel my blood run cold. His hand darts inside and comes out holding… absolutely nothing.
I sigh, Nick chuckles and Jason laughs.
“Looking for this?” Nick says. He’s holding up a wicked looking black handgun.
He hands it to Jason. “Keep an eye on him,” he says.
Nick wheels over to his truck. I look over at Jason. He’s holding the gun casually. He looks like he does this every day. I’m getting very turned on watching him. He glances at me and I see it in his face too. He smiles and his eyebrows flicker up. I can feel my body reacting
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