The Grey Zone

by Easton, Don

  Today’s case was not complex. An elderly Chinese man had been arrested in the Toronto airport after returning from Hong Kong with a quantity of opium secreted in cigarette cartons. Drug importation was a serious offence and could warrant a substantial length of time in jail.

  Did he look like a drug trafficker? No, but Dalton explained that elderly people were often used as drug mules so as not to attract attention. He also noted that the opium appeared to be professionally hidden in the cigarette cartons; it was not an amateurish attempt in which tampering would have been found in a cursory examination.

  “In your opinion, Constable Dalton,” the Crown prosecutor had asked, “does the evidence put forward to you today suggest that this person is a professional smuggler, perhaps working for a drug distribution network?”

  Probably, but there’s a 1 percent chance that he isn’t. Dalton cleared his throat. “There’s other evidence that I feel needs commenting on. He was also found to have a small quantity of opium in his pocket.”

  “Uh, yes,” the prosecutor had replied. “Is that of any significance?”

  “It would be unusual for a paid drug mule to be caught over something as overt as having some of the drug in your pocket. It makes me question whether he is a professional smuggler, or someone who merely purchased the drugs from a professional network simply for his own use.”

  The prosecutor’s mouth had flopped open. “You think that quantity is for personal use?”

  “The quantity seized from him is large and would normally indicate that it was intended for redistribution, but the price of opium is much lower in Hong Kong. There is a remote chance he purchased it with the idea that it would last him for a very long time.”

  “I see. I have no further questions.”

  The defence lawyer stood. “I have no questions for this witness, your honour.”

  Smart. I’ve given you grounds to seek a much lower sentence. Questioning me might cause the judge to reject the 1 percent notion and go for a higher sentence.

  Dalton ignored his colleague’s continued scowl as he exited the courtroom. Yeah, I know. He was probably busted from informant information and has been couriering drugs for years, but I can only comment on the evidence before me.

  Once outside the courtroom, Dalton checked his phone for messages. A call from Staffing. Already?

  Dalton’s father had recently died, and his mother, who suffered from arthritis, was now living alone in Burnaby. Two weeks ago he’d asked for a compassionate transfer to the Metro Vancouver area so he could help look after her. He’d said he was willing to accept any position, whether it be administrative, uniform, or whatever.

  * * *

  “Chief Superintendent Quaile from Staffing is on the line,” the secretary said.

  Lexton frowned. “Put him through.”

  “I have some great news,” Quaile said. “I think you’ll be delighted.”

  Why, are you retiring?

  “I’ve come up with the perfect candidate to fill the open position in Intelligence. Get this, his performance records say he’s forthright and always does the right thing, even if it puts him at odds with his peers.”

  “Where’s he from?”

  “Toronto Drug Section. All his service has been back east, so he won’t have any, uh, alliances with anyone here to whom he might feel obligated.”

  “Thank you for keeping me informed.”

  “I knew you’d be happy.”

  Happy? You dumbass. I’d be happy if I didn’t feel I had to do this.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Jack and Laura greeted Alicia warmly at the start of her first official day in the Intelligence Unit.

  “Hangover?” Jack asked.

  Alicia smiled. “No, I behaved myself last night. I didn’t want to show up my first day smelling like a brewery mouse. First impressions and all.”

  “Good. Come with us and we’ll introduce you to Rose.”

  The introduction was both friendly and brief. On their way back to their office, Jack whispered to Laura, “Get ready. I bet she’ll be dancing and singing ‘Do You Love Me.’”

  Laura smiled. “From Dirty Dancing.”

  A moment later they settled at their desks. Jack and Laura exchanged a look, suppressing their anticipation, then Laura turned to Alicia. “We thought we’d start you off with a case we’ve been working on.” She slid a mug shot of Peter Powers onto Alicia’s desk, along with his criminal record.

  Alicia scanned it quickly. “Drug investigation, I presume?”

  “Yes, but Jack came up with an informant who may alter the course of our investigation. It has to do with Peter’s brother.”

  “This guy,” Jack said, passing over a photo of Derek.

  Alicia glanced at the photo, then did a double take. Her jaw slackened.

  “My informant indicated that he was involved in a kidnapping,” Jack added. “What do you think? Should we check him out?”

  “It’s — it’s him!” Alicia stuttered. “The guy behind David Chung and Andy Zhao in the CCTV footage!”

  “Let me see that photo again,” Laura said, trying to keep a straight face. “I think you might be right.”

  Alicia gaped at each of them. “You found him! We — we know who he is!”

  “Yes, Laura spotted him yesterday morning,” Jack said. “We followed him and then —”

  Alicia let out a sob. Her eyes brimmed over and she sat back, her arms hanging limp at her sides.

  I wasn’t expecting that.

  Jack and Laura looked at each other, then got up and came around to her desk. Jack patted her on the shoulder. “We’ve identified the bastard. Now we need to find out who his friends are.”

  Alicia rose from her chair, first hugging Jack, then Laura, who this time hugged her back warmly.

  “Thank you,” Alicia said, choking out the words. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  I think we do.

  Once she’d calmed down, Jack and Laura went over the details of what they’d done yesterday.

  “Is there a possibility that Derek was just hired to scan someone for a wire and didn’t know it involved a kidnapping?” Alicia asked, pausing to blow her nose.

  “Possible, but I don’t think so,” Jack replied. “Look how stressed and worried David and Andy were. With Derek’s background, he would’ve realized it wasn’t above board if he didn’t already know. I think he’s in on it completely.”

  “Look at the business he runs,” Laura added. “This guy is a professional. We need to be extra cautious.”

  “Still, we’ve got one of them,” Alicia said firmly.

  “We’ve identified him,” Jack said, “but as you know, knowing and proving are two different things.”

  “Maybe Derek is the brains behind it and his employees are the others,” Alicia suggested, “including his brother.”

  “His brother, maybe,” Jack replied, “but I doubt the others you mentioned are involved. They’re young criminology students who work part-time and come and go. It’s possible, and we’ll keep an open mind, but Laura and I saw three of them yesterday. I didn’t get the feeling that any of them would have the stomach to take part in what happened to Tommy.”

  Alicia’s face momentarily reflected her angst over the grim possibility they wouldn’t be able to obtain the evidence needed. Then she seemed to think of something else. “I wonder if Derek has done business with the companies that David and Andy work for?”

  “Commercial Crime is looking into that for us,” Jack replied.

  “Aren’t you worried that MCU will find out and wonder how you came up with his name?” Alicia asked.

  “That brings us to the next step,” Jack said. He explained how, to cover them legally, he’d use Andy Zhao as his informant, but in a report identify criminals associated with Peter in order to give the impression that one of them had squealed. He also told her what he told Commercial Crime, that someone in MCU might be dirty.

  Alicia sh
ook her head. “Oh, man, is this part of that grey zone you talk about?”

  Both Jack and Laura grinned.

  “When do we pass it on to MCU?” Alicia asked.

  “As soon as we can identify someone connected to Peter whom everyone might believe to be the informant,” Jack replied. “It won’t take long.”

  Alicia looked downcast.

  “What is it?” Laura asked. “We thought you’d be so excited that you’d get up and dance.”

  “Believe me, I’m super pleased. It’s just that I have so much invested, and now that I finally know who one of the players is, we have to hand it over to MCU … which is where I was working yesterday.”

  “Sort of a Catch-22,” Jack said. “If you hadn’t been transferred, Powers wouldn’t have been identified. Now that you’ve done it, we have to turn the file over to them.”

  “I guess the important thing is seeing the kidnappers go to jail,” Alicia said. “It doesn’t really matter who gets to slap the cuffs on them.”

  “You got it,” Jack said. “We try to remain anonymous and in the background as much as possible. Even so, there are times in our work when we feel a lot of job satisfaction.” Like when the bad guys take their last breath.

  “Well, from what I’ve learned and seen over the last week, I’m thrilled to be here,” she said sincerely. “So when do we start looking for these criminal associates? I’m available tonight if you want to do surveillance.”

  “Not tonight,” Jack said. “I think an early day shift tomorrow would be good so we can see what Peter is up to. If he isn’t working at a legit job or with his brother, then we’ll set up surveillance on him again at three p.m. on Friday.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Alicia replied.

  “It is a holiday weekend, though,” Jack noted. “People may be travelling or not following their usual routine.”

  “We’ll have to play it by ear as to whether or not to stay on him,” Laura explained.

  “Hold on, someone’s calling me.” Jack answered his cellphone.

  “Hello, Jack. This is Constable Greg Dalton from Toronto Drug Section calling.”

  “Do I know you?” Jack asked.

  “You don’t know me yet. I got your number from Sammy Crofton in Vancouver Drugs. You likely haven’t heard yet, but I’m being transferred to your unit.”

  “I hadn’t heard. You’re out of Toronto? How’d you manage that?”

  “It’s a compassionate. My mom and dad moved from Saskatchewan to Burnaby two years ago and bought a house. My dad died of a heart attack three months ago.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Thanks. Anyway, my mother is getting on in years and refuses to move out of the house. I’d like to be near to keep an eye on her. I’m putting my own house on the market this week.”

  “You married?” Jack asked.

  “Two years. No kids yet.”

  “How do you know Sammy Crofton?”

  “I did a UC operation in Vancouver about three years ago. He was in charge of the cover team. It was only a week long. Sammy had an informant who introduced me to four Lebanese brothers. Ended up taking them down with a few kilos of coke.”

  “I’m an operator, as well,” Jack noted.

  “Great. I’ve been doing UC for about seven years, mostly out east. Had a good time with Sammy, though. He looked after me and didn’t leave me sitting in some hotel room by myself.”

  “Sammy’s a friend of mine,” Jack said. “He’s a good guy.”

  “Good, then you can call him to check me out,” Dalton replied.

  I think you and I are going to get along really well.

  After saying goodbye to Dalton, Jack did call Sammy.

  “I’ve got nothing but good things to say about him,” Sammy said. “He’s smart, doesn’t come across egotistical, like some operators do, plus he has a good sense of humour. You’re lucky to be getting him. I wish he were coming here and not to your unit.”

  Jack was pleased. Seems almost too good to be true.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  At 6:30 a.m. on Thursday, Jack, Laura, and Alicia, each in their own vehicle, converged near Derek and Peter’s apartment. It was on the ground level of a three-storey, red-brick Colonial-style building. Behind the building were designated parking stalls.

  “I checked,” Jack said, on conference call over his hands-free. “Derek’s black SUV and Peter’s red Mustang are parked beside each other. The only exit is alongside the apartment. My guess is Derek will be leaving soon to go to work. If Peter isn’t with him, we’ll stay and wait.”

  “Sure would be nice to have a tracker on his car,” Alicia noted.

  “Think about the business Derek is in,” Jack replied.

  “I know, he’ll have gadgets for detecting trackers. I was just saying that it’d be nice.”

  At 7:30 a.m., Derek drove his SUV out onto the street. Laura did a loose surveillance and saw him drive to his office and park in the same spot where she’d seen his vehicle yesterday. She then returned to the apartment, where they waited for Peter.

  At 1:30 p.m. Peter left through the front door of the apartment building and walked for ten minutes. Jack, Laura, and Alicia maintained surveillance from their vehicles.

  “He’s crossed Bute and is still walking southeast on Nelson,” Jack reported when it was his turn to maintain visual contact. He saw Peter veer off into a park. This can’t be a coincidence. “He’s entered a park and is sitting on a bench. It’s —”

  “That’s Nelson Park!” Alicia said excitedly. “The same park where Andy Zhao and David Chung were sent to during the ransom drop!”

  “Yes, I realize that. I’ve got a place where I can see him through the binos. Laura, you set up to the east. Alicia, stay north.”

  A couple minutes later, a car arrived, and two men got out and approached Peter.

  “Heads up,” Jack said. “In the event that you didn’t hear the loud music coming from down the street, two guys have arrived in a black Toyota Supra with a large spoiler on the back. They parked and are out talking to Peter. Both are dark skinned, maybe early to midtwenties. The driver is wearing a black do-rag and is clean-shaven. His passenger has dreadlocks and is sporting a horseshoe moustache.”

  “Can you see what they’re up to?” Alicia asked.

  “Only talking, from what I can tell. The newcomers are doing lots of nodding. From the body language, I’d say Peter’s running the show. The Toyota is parked facing south on Thurlow. We’ll try and follow it when it leaves, but stay loose. I’d rather lose them than heat them up.”

  “Copy that,” Laura and Alicia echoed.

  Five minutes later, the two newcomers returned to their car, and moments later, the team was following them onto the Trans-Canada Highway. The licence plate was registered to a Llanzo Brown with a Surrey address, but thirty minutes later, the car drove into an underground parking lot beneath a high-rise apartment building in Burnaby.

  “Guess he forgot to change his address when he moved,” Laura noted sarcastically.

  “I’ll go out and take a look at the intercom directory for names and see if I can come up with an apartment number,” Jack said. A couple of minutes later, he reported, “The suites are simply listed as ‘occupied.’ Let’s meet back at the office.”

  It didn’t take long to confirm that Llanzo Brown, at twenty-four years of age, had amassed an impressive criminal record, including two drug trafficking convictions, two aggravated assaults, and one manslaughter conviction. Over the last six years he’d spent a total of four years in prison and was currently on parole.

  “Wonder if he and his friend could be the other kidnappers,” Alicia said.

  “I really doubt it,” Jack replied. “They’ve got nothing close to Derek’s level of sophistication, which is probably why Peter met them in a park and not at his apartment.”

  Alicia nodded, then studied his mug shot. “Sweet boy. I wonder if my folks would like him.”

  “Hopefull
y you’re not his type,” Jack replied. “That being cokeheads.”

  “What about his friend with the dreadlocks?” Laura said. “He looks like a real prize.”

  “Yes, I saw him through the binos,” Alicia replied. “Dreadlocks aren’t my thing.”

  “We’ll start by pulling everything we can on Llanzo,” Jack said. “Get mug shots of every associate of his you can come up with.”

  “Do you want to talk to his parole officer?” Alicia asked.

  “Not yet. If word does get back to Llanzo, I don’t want him to realize it happened right after he met with Peter.”

  “You think the parole officer would burn us?” Alicia asked.

  Jack shrugged. “In our work we’ve discovered dirty cops, dirty judges, and dirty parole officers. Why take a chance? Even if it’s not intentional, certain questions or the wrong look and Llanzo might clue in that something has made his officer suspicious. He may be young, but you can bet he’s hardened after prison. His street smarts are likely fine tuned.”

  At 5:00 p.m. Laura handed Jack a mug shot. “Dreadlocks is identified,” she said.

  “Yes, that’s him,” Jack confirmed.

  “His name is Tarone Smith. He’s twenty-three years old, and his driver’s licence lists the same address in Surrey that Llanzo’s does.”

  “Record?” Jack asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Convictions for one count of trafficking, one aggravated assault, and one manslaughter. The same manslaughter involving Llanzo. They beat and kicked a man to death outside a nightclub.”

  “Drug deal gone bad?” Jack asked.

  “Nope, they didn’t know the guy. It stemmed from an argument inside the club when they accused the guy of looking at them.”

  “That certainly justifies it,” Jack said. “I’m surprised they were convicted.”

  “Don’t be so cynical,” Laura responded. “I spoke to a VPD detective who was involved. He said a psychiatrist testified on their behalf that the young men were suffering from PTSD due to violent home lives caused by their fathers when they lived in Jamaica. Both apparently moved to Canada ten years ago with their mothers to get away from their fathers. The shrink said that given proper therapy and a chance, Llanzo and Tarone could become respected members of society. Hence, they each received a three-year sentence for that charge.”