Outlaw MC

by Dwayne Clayden

  Sissy placed a meal on the nightstand. Annie slid toward the food. Parts of her body screamed in pain. Flashes of the assault came back and she sobbed. Sissy put her arm around Annie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  Through sniffles, Annie said, “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Why didn’t you warn me? Do something?”

  “That would have made you panic.” Sissy stroked Annie’s hair. “If I said anything, it would have been worse for me.”

  Annie placed her head on Sissy’s shoulder. “Who was that animal?”

  “Jeter Wolfe. They call him Wolfman. I know what he did to you. He did that to me when they brought me here. He comes to my room whenever he wants. It’s best to do what he asks.”

  “Not without a fight.”

  “If you fight, it will get worse.” Sissy stroked Annie’s hair.

  “Worse than this?”

  “Much worse.”

  “There must be a way out of here.” Annie sniffled. “Why don’t you get away?”

  “You don’t understand.” Sissy stared with pleading eyes. “You will, though. It’s like a prison here. We wouldn’t get two feet before they stopped us—or shot us.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Does it matter?”

  The next night the Wolfman came back. He reeked of whiskey as he stumbled from the door to the bed, raising an arm to balance himself. Annie thought this might be her chance. He sat next to her, caressed her cheek and when his hand came close to her mouth, she bit. Wolfman yanked his hand back, but her teeth held their grip, ripping the flesh. He backhanded her with his other hand. Her cheek hurt, her teeth felt loose, and her neck felt like it had snapped. Sharp flashes of pain sliced through her head. The worst pain she’d ever endured.

  “You little bitch. You need to learn a lesson.”

  He left the room.

  Annie thought she’d won—he hadn’t violated her. Her victory was short lived. Wolfman was back with two bikers.

  Chapter Seven

  Thursday Night

  Tommy Devlin slouched in the darkened doorway. Graffiti covered the old sandstone building, the corners piled with garbage. The dirty clothes, baggy jacket, watch cap, and torn pants with the stink of years of undercover still fit. He was the ghost, moving unnoticed in the shadows of the east-end. The warmth of the spring day was long past, and he rubbed his arms to keep warm. He’d worked narcotics undercover for more than five years before he joined the Tactical Support Unit. After almost two years he’d returned to the Narcotics Unit. A couple of nights a week he roamed. It felt good to be back on the street.

  He could still spot a dealer, and after a month of surveillance, he knew this one’s routine. The bust could have happened weeks ago, but he wanted to have enough to turn the dealer. Devlin wasn’t after the dealer—he wanted the supplier.

  Across the street, the dealer bounced on his feet. The torn jeans and the faded jean jacket with a down vest fit right in with the inhabitants of the area. The guy is always nervous. Using too much of his product.

  As two teenage boys approached the dealer, Devlin pushed himself farther into the shadows. His heart beat faster. His vision sharpened, time slowed. He was the predator stalking his prey.

  He slipped from the shadows and brought a brown paper sack to his lips. Everyone in this area was used to the homeless wandering the night sipping from a bottle. Except Devlin had chocolate milk in the bag.

  The dealer and the teens were negotiating. Perfect. The three ignored Devlin as he approached.

  As he was about to pass them, he dropped the milk. He grabbed the dealer by his long greasy hair and spun him into the wall, face first. The dealer screamed and wildly swung his arms and cursed.

  Devlin snarled at the teenagers, “Police. Get the hell out of here. Don’t come back.”

  The teenagers bolted.

  Devlin kicked the dealer’s legs apart, and pressed his head against the concrete wall. He captured one flailing arm, then the other, and jerked them around behind the dealer’s back. “You’re under arrest, you frickin’ scumbag.” He slapped on cuffs and ratcheted them tight.

  Devlin half dragged, half shoved the dealer toward his car. “Watch your head,” he said as the dealer’s head hit the doorframe. “Hey, stupid, I told you to watch out.”

  Devlin parked behind the downtown police HQ and pushed his prisoner up to the booking desk.

  “Be right with you.” The gray-haired constable slowly set down his newspaper, took off his glasses, and rubbed his bloodshot eyes.

  Devlin waited as the constable scrutinized the prisoner and then glanced toward Devlin. His eyes widened. He pushed away from his desk and stood. “Detective. I didn’t know you were back on the street.”

  Devlin grinned. “You never know where you’ll see me, Murphy. I thought you retired.”

  Murphy glanced at a calendar on the wall behind his desk. “Four months, three days,” his eyes moved to the large wall clock, “four hours and eleven minutes.”

  “Not that you’re counting,” Devlin said.

  Murphy shook his head. “How can I help you?”

  “I need an interrogation room. Me and —” Devlin looked at his prisoner. “What the hell’s your name?”

  “Lenny.”

  “Me and Lenny need to talk.”

  “Yes sir, it’s quiet tonight. Take number one.” Murphy pointed across the hallway.

  “I was thinking about number five. It’s farther down the hall. I don’t want anyone hearing Lenny’s screams.”

  “Hey, wait, no,” Lenny said. “Wait.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” Murphy said. “Just like the old days, huh.” He peered at Lenny and shook his head. “I'd tell him what he wants to know fella, save yourself the nightmares.”

  Devlin took the key from Murphy and nudged Lenny down the hall. Lenny glanced back at the constable hoping for a witness. Murphy was already back in his chair reading the paper.

  “Make yourself comfortable.” Devlin shoved his prisoner into the small room. He unlocked the cuffs and pointed to a chair.

  “Fuck you, pig.” Lenny’s ass hit the floor before he knew what happened. He rubbed his temple where the blow had landed.

  Devlin extended a hand. “Careful in here. The floor’s uneven. Hate for you to fall again.”

  Lenny stood, pulled back the chair, and sat. “I ain’t telling you nothin’.”

  Devlin raised an arm. Lenny flinched.

  “Listen, there a few ways this can go,” Devlin said. “Only one of them has you leaving here a free man. For the others, I can call 911 now and have the paramedics waiting to wheel your sorry ass to the hospital. Or when I’m done, I’ll ask Murphy to call, cuz you won’t be able to.”

  “You can’t do this. I got rights.”

  “Yeah, you got the right to answer my fucking questions. You got the right to hit your head repeatedly into my fist. You got the right to go to jail as a sex deviant cuz I’m gonna charge you with soliciting those young boys.”

  “It wasn’t solicitation. They wanted drugs,” Lenny blurted.

  “Now we’re making progress. You just confessed to being a drug dealer, thank you. I’ve been watching you for a month. You do a good business. Move a lot of product. The big question is where do you get it? I want your supplier.”

  “I can’t give you that. I’d be a dead man.”

  “Aw, come on, Lenny. Give me that information. I already got you on trafficking.” Devlin threw a quick jab at Lenny’s nose. Lenny rocked back in his chair, blood flowing. Devlin slid over a box of tissues.

  “Fuck, man.” Lenny spat blood. “Why’d you do that? You can beat me … all you want … I ain’t giving up nothing.”

  Devlin leaned on the table. “You want to take another go at the questions? No?” He moved behind Lenny’s chair and grabbed his shoulders. “Maybe you could be someone’s girlfriend in jail.” He slapped Lenny’s back and moved to the corn
er. “Unless they decide you’re a worthless piece of garbage who likes little boys and they stick a shiv up your ass. Your call.”

  Lenny spat blood onto the floor and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Dey’ll kill me either way.”

  “Then take your chances in prison, bitch.”

  “Ah man, dey gonna kill me.”

  “Who?”

  “Soldiers, man.”

  “Satan’s Soldiers?”

  “Yeah.” Lenny kept his head low, supported by his hands. “Dey’s gonna mess with me. I’m dead.”

  Devlin slid a pack of cigarettes across the table. Lenny hunched over, arms wrapped around his chest. He stared at the cigarettes and with shaking hands pulled one out. Devlin held the lighter and Lenny inhaled.

  Devlin patted Lenny’s head. “I gotta call a buddy. Then maybe we can help you.”

  “Can I keep the cigarettes?”

  “Yeah, but not the lighter. Chain smoke. I’ll be back.”

  Chapter Eight

  When Brad arrived at the police booking office, Devlin and Murphy were hunched over a map of British Columbia.

  Murphy pointed to a red circle drawn around a small island on the coast. “I’m buying this marina on Salt Spring Island. Got a boat and I’ll take tourists fishing and whale watching.” Murphy handed Devlin a pamphlet. “You’ll have to come out. Great way to forget this frickin’ job. I’ll give you a deal.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” Devlin said.

  “You know, I won’t miss this place one bit,” Murphy said.

  “You’ve been saying that for ten years, Murphy,” Devlin said. “Gotta get to work.”

  Devlin pointed down the hallway. Brad followed.

  “You got something good?” Brad asked.

  “Yeah. I’ve been following a dealer for a while. Tonight, I busted him. He was selling to some high school kids. I wanted his supplier, but he’s scared to death. He said it’s the Soldiers. I figured you’d want to be here for the party.”

  “He’s going to volunteer that info?” Brad asked.

  “Hey, I can be persuasive.”

  “Okay, let’s see what he has to say.”

  They entered a smoky interrogation room.

  Lenny had his feet on the table. He rocked in the chair with one hand behind his head and the other holding a smoke. Brad stared at the half-filled ashtray, and coughed.

  “His reward for being such a good guy,” Devlin said.

  Brad noticed redness around Lenny’s left eye and bloody nose.

  “Lenny. Tell us about the bike gangs.”

  Lenny exhaled a cloud of smoke. “I was bragging before.”

  Devlin reached across the interrogation table and smacked Lenny on the side of his head with a rolled-up newspaper. “Where do you get the drugs? I want your supplier.”

  “I can’t tell you that. I’d be a dead man.”

  Devlin grabbed another chair, flipped it backward and sat. He leaned forward, inches away, and stared.

  Lenny looked away. His hands rubbed his eyes and fingers slid through his hair several times. “Ah shit, I’m fucked either way.”

  “Give me something I can use. I’ll get you out of town. To Vancouver. They can always use someone with your skills there.”

  “They’ll find me.”

  “It’s easy to find you in jail. Especially when I say you squealed and tell them where you are.” Devlin leaned back.

  Brad quietly watched. Lenny might take a minute or two to figure this out. He pulled another cigarette from the package.

  Devlin held the lighter. Lenny waved the cigarette. “Like a condemned man, my last smoke. Do I get a last meal, too? A last screw with my old lady?”

  “Oh sure, Lenny. Black tie steak dinner at Hy’s Steak House.”

  Lenny inhaled and shook his head. “I’m screwed no matter what I do.” He took another pull on the smoke. “Satan’s Soldiers. They got a warehouse in the southeast where the drugs are. It’s like a distribution center.”

  “How do you know this? You been there?”

  “Not officially. One night I followed the guy who sells me the stuff, thinkin’ if I cut him out, I’d make more cash. I watched from the outside. I hear this loud rumble, like an earthquake or something and about a dozen Harleys arrived. The riders were wearing Soldiers’ colors. Then a bunch of chicks arrived in cabs. Lights come on upstairs. I hear them partying. One guy brings a chick out and bangs her on his bike.”

  “Sounds like regular biker shit,” Devlin said. “Why do we care?”

  “I have a friend who’s a biker wannabe—a prospect. One night we shared some product and I got him talking. He’s like on probation or something with the Soldiers. They make him do the shit jobs. He’s gotta clean the place—bottles, vomit, shit all over the bathroom. He sees stuff.”

  “Did he tell you about the inside?”

  “Oh yeah. The main floor is the warehouse. That’s where the drugs are. They’re in boxes with coffee. I guess coffee hides the drug smell and screws up the police dogs. In a storage room in the back, a couple of freezers have guns on the bottom covered with a side of beef. They use the second level as a clubhouse. Hookers arrive about two a.m. Then the party gets wild. The bikers grab a girl or two and head to the bedrooms on the second floor. Everyone crashes about four. My friend starts to clean up in the morning around eight.”

  “That’s a great story,” Devlin said.

  “Wait, wait. Come on, guys. I ain’t lying. You’ll see. Friday night is party night. Check it out tomorrow. Then you gotta get me out of town.”

  “Have you heard anything about the Jokers or Soldiers having a girl captive?” Brad asked. “Someone new?”

  “Man, those guys got chicks all the time. I don’t know nothin’ about them getting someone new. They come and they go.”

  Brad tilted his head toward the door. Devlin grabbed the pack of cigarettes and followed. “Smoking will kill you.”

  They stopped in the hall.

  “There’s a chance he’s full of crap,” Devlin said. “He knows he’s gonna do jail time. He’ll tell us anything if he thinks we’ll kick him out.”

  “He had a lot of details,” Brad said. “My gut says it’s the truth. At least most of it. This is your area of expertise, but I say it’s worth following up. Maybe this is the break we need. We shut down the Soldiers before the war gets going.”

  “You’re right, he’s scared.” Devlin shrugged. “Maybe he made up some of it, but he knows he’s fucked if this information is bad.”

  “I can scout the place tomorrow,” Brad said. “We can hit it tomorrow night, say 0200 hours. What about Lenny?”

  “I’ll make sure he’s in isolation until then,” Devlin said. “If this pans out, I’ll ship him off to Vancouver. He’ll be safe there, for a while, anyway.”

  “Twenty-four hours is a long time to keep him out of sight,” Brad said.

  “Ah, you know how it is,” Devlin said. “Things move slowly particularly going into a weekend. I have a lot on my plate right now and getting the paperwork completed isn’t a priority. I won’t get to it until midday Saturday. He won’t see court until Monday. If he’s lying, well somebody in prison is gonna get a new girlfriend.”

  Chapter Nine

  Friday Night

  On the apparatus floor, TSU prepared for the raid on the Satan’s Soldiers’ warehouse. Each cop silently checked and double-checked his equipment. Then checked his partner’s gear. It was a routine performed every day. Lives depended on it.

  Brad took the information from Devlin’s informant to Judge Gray for a warrant. Brad had a good relationship with Judge Gray. Brad had dated his daughter, Maggie, two years ago and when that relationship ended, Brad had stayed in contact with the judge. It had paid off several times when TSU needed a quick warrant.

  Brad glanced at his watch—2210 hours. He scanned the building. Charlie Zerr checked his gear alone at a Suburban. Zerr’s partner, Jimmy Nichols, was late. What’s with that? B
rad’s jaw tightened.

  The side door opened. An out-of-breath Nichols ran past Brad toward the locker room. “Sorry, boss. Lost track of time.”

  Before Brad could reply, Charlie Zerr intercepted Nichols. Brad watched the exchange.

  “What are you doing?” Zerr asked. “Boss made it clear we were to ready by 2200. Where were you?”

  “Hey, let it go.” Nichols tried to push past Zerr. “No big deal. I’m here. I’ll get ready quick.”

  Zerr grabbed his shoulder. “Are you fucking kidding me? We have two teams waiting for you to bless us with your presence. You need to check my equipment. I need to check yours. Not rushed. You know the rules.”

  “Bullshit. Coulter is anal about everything. Screw him. I won’t be late again.”

  Zerr stepped in front of Nichols. “It’s about safety. It’s not some bullshit rule Coulter made.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Nichols said. “When you were with the Rangers, blah, blah.”

  “Don’t be an ass. What’s up? I gotta know you got my back. You committed to this?”

  “Relax, Zerr. Don’t go all Coulter on me.” Nichols leaned close and whispered, “Got a new girlfriend and she’s screwing my brains out. Had a little trouble leaving her house. That’s all.”

  “That’s a bullshit excuse and you know it. If you’re late again, I’ll file a complaint and ask for a partner change.”

  Nichols headed to his locker, Zerr back to his truck.

  Brad walked over to Zerr.

  “I got it under control boss. He’ll be okay.”

  “Are you sure? This isn’t the first time he’s been late.”

  “I know. I laid it out for him. It won’t happen again.”

  Just before midnight, TSU drove into the Ogden industrial area, Brad in the lead. They passed the sprawling rail yards, feedlot and slaughterhouse, then down a row of warehouses and grain elevators to the staging area in the animal control parking lot. The only light came from a streetlight, the sky dark and moonless. They quietly geared up, then followed Brad to the Soldiers’ clubhouse.