by David Carter
“Found something?” Ryan asked as he entered the kitchen where she was standing.
“I’m not sure,” she replied, “I saw it in the garden while bringing up my breakfast.”
She handed it to Ryan. “It’s a phone number,” he said. Now why does that look familiar? he thought.
“Cameron,” Sandra interrupted him.
He turned around. “Check out the sink,” she pointed.
He saw three dirty mugs. He raised an eyebrow as he said, “Your point being?”
“There’s three mugs,” she emphasised.
Ryan instantly saw her point. The Bowmans had a guest.
His gloved hand picked up the one of the mugs. He sniffed it. It smelled of stale tea, as did the second mug.
“What are you doing?” She asked him.
He sniffed the third mug. The faint brown stain at the bottom smelled of coffee. “Bag it,” he said.
“Why this one?”
“If there is one thing I know about Blaze, it’s his love for coffee. Two cups of tea and one cup of coffee. Run this one for DNA. If we get a positive hit, as I suspect we will, he’s as good as guilty.”
“How do you know that?” she said.
He pulled out his phone and opened his contacts list. He scrolled down till he found Blaze’s name. He opened Blaze’s contact information, then gave Sandra his phone and the crumpled piece of paper with the phone number on it.
“A perfect match.” Sandra beamed as his deduction. “You’re not just a handsome face, are you?” she complimented him. “I’ll get onto forensics now.”
Chapter 35
Sanchez summoned the two guards that he’d left behind on duty—while he was in Worthington—into his cabin. “Is there anything you need to tell me?” he queried them as he sat behind his rickety wooden desk.
“About...?” one of the guards answered.
“What happened while I was away?”
“Nothing,” the second guard replied. “Just a quiet night, no activity.”
“Is that so?”
“Of course,” the guard said emphatically.
“So tell me why my files are all muddled up and not in their correct order. You know I maintain a flawless system with all my documents. Who came in here?”
They stood there, too numb to speak.
Sanchez grew impatient. He stood up from his desk. “Whoever tells me the truth, lives. The other, well, use your imagination.”
“There was a man,” one of guards quickly replied. “Said he was a client, and he was looking for you. I found him snooping around the docks.”
Sanchez launched himself up from his desk and clobbered him in the mouth. His giant fist rippled through his jaw and removed three of his teeth. The man slumped back in an old wooden chair, clutching at his bleeding mouth. “That will teach you for leaving your comrade to take the fall,” said Sanchez.
He faced the other guard that remained standing. “Well?”
“He said his name was Ryan Gibson. Said he wanted to make arrangements for a delivery.”
“And where did you find him, exactly?”
“Aboard Mr Lombardi’s yacht.”
“And how did he get aboard the yacht?”
“Well, we—” He stopped himself and gazed at the floor.
“We fell asleep,” the guard with the bleeding mouth said.
The veins on Sanchez’s neck bulged as his rage intensified. The man with the bleeding face buried his head in his arms as Sanchez lashed out with his size-fourteen army boot. The man crashed to the floor. Sanchez repeatedly stomped on the back of his head. The man cried out as Sanchez kicked the stuffing out of him. The other man closed his eyes; he couldn’t watch the blood bath.
When Sanchez had had enough, the man was still alive, but he might as well have been dead. His face was unrecognisable as it dangled on the bloodstained floorboards.
“Don’t ever fall asleep while on duty,” Sanchez warned the other guard, and wiped beads of sweat from his forehead. He dismissed him, and told him to ‘take the mess out to the back room’.
Sanchez returned to his desk. Ryan Gibson, he thought. Doesn’t ring any bells...
He reached for his cell phone and dialled Archer.
“Yes, Tyrone,” Archer answered.
“I may have found the leak,” Sanchez said. “Do you know of a Ryan Gibson?”
“Ryan Gibson?”
“Yeah. Two of my guards found a man by that name snooping around the docks while we were away. Said he wanted to do business with me. But I’ve never heard of him. Sounds dubious.”
Ryan Gibson, thought Archer. He pondered over the name for a few moments. Then his brilliant intellect clicked into gear. “I believe you could be right, Tyrone; you may have found the leak after all.”
“Do you know him?”
“I most certainly do: Detective Cameron Ryan of the Milton City Homicide Unit. My sources tell me he’s partnered up with Detective Sandra Gibson, and the fact he was crawling around your docks can only mean bad news.”
“How do you know him?”
“He and Blaze broke into my house awhile back. In fact, I’m surprised he was so foolish not to cover his tracks better than he did: Ryan Gibson,” he scoffed.
“What? You mean he could be working with Blaze? Even after you convinced me Blaze is trustworthy?”
Archer was taken aback. “You could be right, Tyrone, I may have been too hasty in my decision. This changes everything. Blaze cannot be trusted until I’m satisfied they aren’t working together.”
“And how do you propose we find out?”
“Do you like fishing, Tyrone?”
Sanchez chuckled as he replied, “Oh, you know I do, Governor. Especially the filleting part...”
Chapter 36
Blaze woke up after sleeping away the whole night and previous afternoon. He wandered out from his bedroom at the clubhouse to find everybody gone except Trigger, who was playing a game of pool by himself. “Where the fuck is everyone?” Blaze asked him groggily.
“Think everyone’s gone home and laying low for a few days. Francois tried calling you while you were asleep, but eventually got tired of hearing your voice mail, and called Spider. Everything’s on hold until further notice.”
“That’s odd. Did he say why?”
“Spider knows better than to ask questions, unlike you.” He grinned.
Blaze grinned back. “I guess it’s best after what happened in Worthington. The pigs will be nutting out after losing ten of their supposed elite operatives.”
Trigger lined up his shot on the pool table. He sank two balls with one shot.
“Shit, you’re good at that stupid game,” said Blaze. “For me, the only good thing about a pool table is that you can fuck on it.”
Trigger didn’t laugh.
“Something wrong?” Blaze asked him.
“The reason I haven’t gone home yet...”
Blaze picked up on his tone. He walked over to the bar and poured two whiskys. He came back to the pool table and handed one to Trigger. “What’s on your mind, brother?” He got himself comfortable sitting on the edge of the pool table.
“It’s Ace,” he replied, “he said and did some shit in Summit Lake that’s got me spooked.”
“Such as?”
Trigger leaned his pool cue against the table, then reached inside his vest and pulled out a package.
Blaze’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “What the fuck is that!” he spluttered.
“Ace took it from Gunner’s storage shed. I found it in his room this morning when I went to wake him. I was going to tip his bed up and roll him on the floor for a laugh, but when I bent down to get a grip on the bed frame I saw it hiding underneath.”
“How do you know it’s Gunner’s coke?”
“We had a fight about it when we were laying the charges in Gunner’s shed. He wanted to take it, but I told him, no, because you told us to leave it. Then he started crying about how you and
him used to be so close and now you’re doting over Danny more than him; the fucking girl needs to harden up.”
“So why are you telling me?”
Trigger looked left and right. “I could be way out of line in saying this, but you never did find out who took that coke from Mr Lombardi’s warehouse last year, did you?”
Blaze’s face turned serious. “No, I didn’t,” he replied.
“And isn’t it a coincidence that the pigs ambushed our meeting in Worthington?”
“What are you saying? Ace is the rat?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it? Because when we argued in the shed, he apologised and put the coke back. Yet this morning I find it under his bed. Maybe he was planning to turn it in to whoever he is working for when the heat dies off?”
Blaze ran his hands over his head as he considered the possibility. “Shit,” he replied. “It doesn’t look good. Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. His place, I guess.”
Blaze pulled out his phone to ring him, then he stopped. “Before I do anything, can I tell you something?” he asked Trigger.
“Sure.”
Blaze hesitated. “I haven’t told anyone this, but I know I can trust you. It’s about Zoe.”
“Zoe? What about her?”
“It’s something Vino said to me when I made that delivery with him the other day.”
Trigger leaned in close.
“He gave me this.” He handed over Zoe’s ring. “Vino said he found it on the ground after he was attacked outside Mr Lombardi’s warehouse. Someone clubbed him from behind and stole that missing coke. He was too much of a coward to tell Mr Lombardi what really happened and let me take the heat instead.”
“So why the fuck did he tell you? He must have known you’d be ropeable!”
“Think about it, man...”
Holy shit, thought Trigger. “You mean Zoe’s the rat? And Vino was trying to warn you?”
“It’s only a possibility. Your theory about Ace is equally plausible. But I have to face facts: someone is talking to the pigs. And it goes without saying, brother, that this conversation stays between us until I say otherwise.”
“I won’t tell a soul.” He paused, then asked, “So what do we do now?”
Blaze eyeballed him with a look of defiance. “We do what we do best: we lead the lamb to the fucking slaughter.”
Chapter 37
“I should have you shot!” Commissioner Stuart fumed over the phone to Agent Watson. “You didn’t mention anything about explosives! Now I’ve have to inform ten families that their loved ones were killed on the job due to an oversight from my agent in the field! I laid the perfect trap! What have you got to say for yourself!”
Agent Watson felt terrible. “I’m sorry, sir; I have no excuse. As you said, it was an oversight on my part.”
“Well, thanks to you, I’m doing some serious bloody damage control! The media are having a field day with this!”
“I did tell you that you needed more men, and that they would be armed to the teeth —”
“Don’t patronise me, Watson! This is all on your head! Next time do your bloody job and give me all the facts before I send ten highly skilled operatives to their deaths!” He slammed the phone down.
Agent Watson put the secret cell phone away, sighed, then pondered which move to make next. Continue as normal; act as if nothing has happened. You don’t want to arouse suspicion.
Later that morning, Ace walked into the clubhouse. Blaze had called him, telling him he needed to speak with him urgently. “I want to show you something in your workshop,” Blaze said to him, and casually draped his arm over his shoulder as they walked together.
Blaze lifted the workshop roller door up. “After you,” he said, and stepped aside for Ace to go first.
Ace stepped into the brightly-lit garage, and was blindsided by Trigger as he smashed him to the floor. Blaze picked up a steel pipe, as did Trigger, and they stood over him, slapping the pipes in the palms of their hands.
“What the fuck!” Ace shouted.
Trigger tossed the key of coke at him. Ace caught it, then registered what is was. He started trembling. “I’m sorry, Blaze,” he pleaded.
“You know the rules,” replied Blaze. “My word is final. And in a time where trust is paramount, you made a huge fucking mistake to cross me.”
“I just wanted us all to have a little fun when all this shit blows over. Honest to fucking God!”
“Trigger told me about the conversation you had in Gunner’s shed. Do you honestly think I care about Danny more than you? Because I fucking don’t! I’d kill for any of my brothers! It just so happens that Danny is the one in need at this time!”
“Blaze, please; I know I fucked up. I love you, man, I’m so sorry...” he pleaded.
Blaze nodded to Trigger. Ace tried to fight them off as they heaved him up together, but their combined strength was too much for him. Trigger flicked on the electric grinder that sat on one of the workbenches. Blaze held Ace’s head an inch away from the spinning grindstone. Blaze shouted over the top of the machine. “What were you doing when you said you had to top up your gas tank before we left Summit Lake! Were you relaying our movements to the commissioner!”
“No! I swear! I was filling up my bike! Please, Blaze! You have to believe me!”
“Then who tipped off the fucking pigs that we were in Worthington! You were the only one I didn’t have eyes on between leaving Gunner’s place and when we left for the Airbase! They knew exactly what time we would be there!”
“I don’t know!” he cried out as Blaze forced his face closer to the grindstone. “Maybe it was one of the girls! They were riding in the car! It could be fucking anyone!”
“Then why did you steal the coke! I had a fucking bounty on my head after someone ripped of Mr Lombardi’s warehouse! Were you going to turn it over to the pigs?!”
“No! I did it for the club! I was going to surprise everyone with a massive party when things got back to normal! Please! I would never betray the MC!”
Blaze nodded to Trigger. He turned the grinder off. It hummed as it slowly came to a stop. Blaze released Ace, who breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m sorry I had to do that, brother,” Blaze said, and pulled him in close. “I had to be sure it wasn’t you who ratted us out.” He let him go.
“I can’t believe you would think of me as a fucking turncoat—after everything we’ve been through...”
“What can I say? It looked bad, man: everything was pointing at you. And then Trigger found the coke, which made me think about the keys that went missing from Mr Lombardi’s warehouse last year.”
“I told you; it wasn’t me.”
“And I believe you.”
“Why now?”
“Because I think you’re too chicken shit not to tell the truth when the alternative is to have your nose ground to a fucking stump.” He grinned.
Ace meekly grinned back. “Thank you for trusting me, man. And I’ll say it again: I swear I’m not the rat —”
“But you did break the rules,” Blaze cut him off.
“Oh, fuck.” He looked down.
“But I'll let it slide.” Blaze smirked. “Trigger already put a beautiful shiner on that pretty face of yours.” He held Ace's jaw and examined the swelling around his eye. “That's punishment enough,” he chuckled.
Chapter 38
Blaze, Ace, and Trigger tore the bedrooms in the clubhouse apart. They were searching for anything that might suggest there was an informant in their midst. But they found nothing.
“This is fucking mental,” said Blaze. “I’m still struggling to believe that one of our brothers would ever sell us out.”
“I know how you feel, man,” Trigger replied.
That was when Blaze made a connection. Trigger noticed him flinch. “What is it?” he asked.
“Something that my detective friend said to me; that the commissioner knew everything about us.”
&nbs
p; “What do you mean?”
“Detective Ryan said he’d been assigned Fish’s murder case in the hope of gaining information about our movements and passing them on to some asshole commissioner who has it in for him.”
“Shit, man! And you let him walk out of here alive?”
“He assured me he wouldn’t betray us. And I believed him. Still do.”
“You’re putting a shit-load of faith in a fucking cop, man!”
Blaze put his hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, Trigger; I already know it’s not him.”
“How so?” Ace challenged him.
“Because when he was assigned this case, the commissioner already knew about Danny, who is officially classified as deceased. So that means in the twenty-four-hour period between me, Danny, and Ryan arriving in Brighton, somebody tipped him off about Danny and who he really is. So that narrows it down to the night of the party when Danny was initiated into the club, because that’s the night everyone was here and heard about how Danny had busted out of prison and assisted in bringing that psycho killer in Glendale to justice.”
“Fuck, man, there was over a hundred people here that night. It could’ve been anyone.”
Blaze leaned back against the bar, gazing at the chapel door on the far side of the room. Then it struck him.
“What is it, man?” Trigger asked.
“What would you do if you wanted to know the happenings of a group you weren’t an official member of?”
Trigger and Ace cottoned on to what he was thinking, and followed him across the room.
Blaze motioned for them to remain silent before they stepped inside the chapel. They quietly went over every nook and cranny, looking for hidden microphones. After ruling out the light fittings, curtain-pull cords, and numerous pictures and memorabilia lining the shelves and walls, Blaze and Trigger got down on their hands and knees, and checked under the table.
Blaze seethed when he saw the listening device. He motioned for everyone to get out. They closed the chapel door and returned to the bar. “Someone has been fucking listening to everything we’ve been planning since I got back! No wonder the airbase was fucking ambushed!” He slammed his fist against the bar.