The Benefactor

by Don Easton

  “Damn it, we’ve lost her,” complained Connie. “The Royal Centre is what, forty-storeys high counting the underground? The Hyatt’s got over six hundred rooms. We’re screwed.”

  Jack momentarily closed his eyes while massaging his forehead with the tips of his fingers. Think … I need to think …

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Mia heard a door open in the stairwell and peeked over the railing. She saw Mr. Frank glance up at her and nodded, but waited for him as he climbed the stairs, taking them two at time.

  He beamed broadly when they met. “Last week you sent me your first top-priority meeting request. Now your first medium-urgency request. I take it dear Mr. Wolfenden has contacted you and will be returning to Vancouver?”

  “It has nothing to do with him,” replied Mia harshly. “They want more money!”

  “Who? What are you talking about?”

  “The police! Take a look,” she said, showing him her summons. “I was given it this morning. The jerk who charged me showed up at the house and said my case has been reviewed and they’re charging me with possession for the purpose of trafficking.”

  Mr. Frank’s mouth partially dropped open as his brain tried to figure out this new development. He swallowed and replied, “I don’t understand.”

  “Obviously the cops want more money,” said Mia.

  “There is something wrong,” said Mr. Frank, nervously looking over the railing at the stair casing.

  “Of course there is something wrong. He came right to the house.”

  “Do the Rolstads know?” His dark eyes stared intently at Mia’s face.

  “No. Only Julia was home. I covered it by saying I had witnessed an accident and that he came to take a statement.”

  “But you can’t be charged,” said Mr. Frank, sounding adamant. He looked over the railing again, both up and down. “Are you sure you weren’t being followed? That this wasn’t a ruse to see who you would meet?”

  “I don’t think I was followed,” replied Mia. “I never saw anyone suspicious and took all the necessary precautions for a daytime meet.”

  “Good,” muttered Mr. Frank.

  “Why would you even think that?” persisted Mia. “Isn’t it obvious they simply want more money?”

  “Yes, yes, but this was totally unexpected.”

  “Unexpected? No shit!”

  “It will be looked after,” he hastened to say. “There is no reason for you to worry.”

  “There is if people find out I was charged. It’s not only the record; I’d be discarded like a broken chopstick by Wolfenden and maybe the Rolstads, too. Max wouldn’t want me in the company if word leaked out.”

  “As I said, it will be dealt with. Perhaps the problem is that it only has to appear that the charge is going ahead. These things take time. Your trial would be —”

  “My trial!”

  Mr. Frank smiled like he was placating a child and said, “It will not come to that. What I wanted to say is that when you appear and plead not guilty on this new charge, your trial wouldn’t be scheduled to take place for months or perhaps a year or more. The matter will be dealt with long before then.”

  “It would be better if it was dealt with before I had to go back to the courthouse,” replied Mia.

  “Of course it would. I will look into the matter immediately and get back to you. Now go. You have done really well. The benefactor will be pleased with how you have progressed.”

  Mr. Frank stared at the top of Mia’s head as she descended the stairs. The police … are they bluffing? Hoping, perhaps, to strike a plea bargain? If they don’t have a witness, how could they even hope to succeed … or do they have a witness?

  One other thing plagued his brain. Last weekend Wong met him and was nervous, saying he caught two plainclothes police officers following him and that they told him it was because someone might be trying to kill him. Wong wanted to know if he had heard of any such plan. He assured him he hadn’t, but noted Wong had many enemies and it was possible. Now this … have the police connected the dots? Or is it a coincidence? He shook his head. First things first. The witness … is she still alive? I need to find out … and find out fast.

  In the Special “O” SUV, Dwight continued to listen to the negative results that came in over the radio in the search for Mia while directing his people to search other nearby locations.

  Laura looked at Dwight and asked, “Do you think anyone on your team heated her up?”

  Dwight spoke into the radio. “Anybody feel they could have been burned? Speak up if you do.”

  Silence indicated that none felt they had been detected.

  “Mia Parker has been trained,” replied Jack. “I’ve never worked on someone who was this good at counter-surveillance.” He glanced at Laura and added, “We haven’t trained our own informants this well.”

  Another ten minutes passed. “Sorry guys,” sighed Dwight. “I’ll put everyone in there on foot if you like, but they’re pretty big places.”

  “Let’s try looking elsewhere,” said Jack, thoughtfully. “We might be too late, but it is worth a shot.”

  “Elsewhere?” asked Dwight.

  “With the precautions she’s taken, I think if she was heated up, she would have called it off and headed back to her car. She’s had long enough to do that.”

  “Guess that is good news,” replied Connie.

  Jack nodded. “However, she’s used the Skytrain, the restaurant, the Hyatt, and the Royal Centre to cleanse herself. All these places have people around and unless she slipped into a private room, she could never be too sure someone wasn’t watching.”

  “So what are you suggesting?” asked Dwight.

  “Laura and I deal with a lot of informants,” explained Jack. He looked at Laura and said, “When we meet our informants, where do we usually meet them?”

  “For a long meeting, maybe a hotel room.”

  “She already left the Hyatt. “Where do we meet our friends for a short meeting?”

  Laura shrugged and said, “Parks, graveyards, parking garages … maybe the back of a van.”

  Jack nodded and looked at Dwight and said, “There’s your answer. Split everyone up and cover off any of those possibilities within the area. There aren’t any cemeteries nearby, but there are parks and parkades. Same for any vans parked someplace, like an alley.”

  “There are only a couple of parks close by,” said Dwight, “but hang on while I Google parkades.” Seconds later he said, “At least nine or ten parkades.” Seconds later, he delegated the various surveillance specialists to look in different locations.

  During the next twenty minutes, team members scrambled to cover off their assigned locations, but everything came to a halt when it was reported that Mia had returned to her car.

  “Forty minutes from the time we lost her,” muttered Jack, looking at his watch. “Plenty of time for her to have met someone.”

  Disappointment was evident in everyone’s voices as Mia was followed back to the Rolstads’ house.

  “So much for it being a piece of cake,” grumbled Connie. “We blew it.”

  “Sorry about that,” said Dwight.

  “It happens,” said Jack. He looked at Connie and said, “I think we can terminate surveillance, but let’s take my car and go back downtown and see what we can find in the way of security cameras. The Hyatt will have some. Maybe parkades, too, or any other security-minded place within the vicinity. If the three of us split up to watch the recordings, we could cover it off quicker.”

  “You one of these guys that says the glass is always half full?” said Connie, gruffly.

  “Naw. I say it simply means there’s room for more,” replied Jack.

  “Yeah, particularly if it’s beer,” quipped Laura.

  It was eight-thirty at night when an excited Connie called Jack on his cellphone. “I’ve got her! You were right. She entered the parkade that you last left me at. Come and take a look. The camera picks up the plates of the c
ars as they leave. I’ll start writing them all down.”

  Twenty minutes later, Jack and Laura met with Connie in an office belonging to a security company and reviewed the tape. A woman, partially concealed under an umbrella and wearing a yellow windbreaker, could be seen entering the parkade. She stopped to look in her purse for a couple of minutes before disappearing from sight into a stairwell.

  “That was her,” said Connie. “Same purse, but she must be wearing a reversible jacket. You’ll see a facial of her when she walks back out fifteen minutes later.”

  “Reversible jacket,” mused Jack. “Looking in her purse was an act to wait and see who might follow her in. I can’t believe she doesn’t have a record. She’s acting like a real pro.”

  “Yeah, I think Special ‘O’ would agree with you there,” replied Connie.

  Jack took control of the recording and replayed the images again, starting fifteen minutes before Mia arrived. Numerous people were seen coming and going from the parkade and Jack watched intently.

  “I’ve copied licence plates from vehicles leaving, but it was rush hour, so there are lots,” said Connie. “How long past when she left do you think we should check plates?”

  “Forget the plates,” said Jack, freezing the frame. “This is who she met,” he said, pointing to a man on the screen.

  “You sure?”

  Jack nodded. “Watch … I’ll play it back. He walked in five minutes after Mia, stopped to tie his shoe … guess he didn’t have a purse to pretend he was looking for keys … no packages and not wearing glasses.”

  “Glasses? Packages?” asked Connie.

  “He walked out two minutes after Mia left. Why would he go to his car and leave again? He wasn’t dropping off any packages.”

  “Or had forgotten his glasses.” Connie said with a smile.

  “Bet if you check the camera footage that came later, you’ll see that he never did come back for any vehicle. He was only using the parkade to meet Mia.” Jack enlarged the image to see the man’s face. “And he looks to be Chinese.”

  “Peaks and valleys.” Connie grinned, slapping Jack on the back. “We’re on a peak. This guy has gotta be the gofer Wong uses to insulate himself from Parker. Betcha Roger will know who he is. Next, we have to figure out why Wong is keeping her so secret.”

  The three of them stared at the image of Mr. Frank. None of them would have guessed that in reality, Benny Wong CC1, the head of Chinese organized crime in Vancouver, was a gofer for Mr. Frank.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  An hour after meeting Mia, Mr. Frank slowly drove past Nancy Brighton’s address. It had been over three weeks since the hit and run. The yard looked like it was being cared for and there was no sign of any newspapers or flyers on the front step.

  He parked a block down the street and walked back to the house and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so he peeked in the mailbox and saw that it was empty.

  “Hey!” yelled a woman from her porch across the street. “Are you looking for Nancy?”

  “Yes, I’ll come over to talk with you,” he replied, before walking across the street and stopping at the bottom of her porch. “I have something for her. Is she around?”

  “No, she hasn’t been living there since her sister was killed,” replied the woman.

  “Her sister was killed?” replied Mr. Frank.

  “Yes. It was dreadful. A hit and run right down the street. She was walking Nancy’s dog and … well, both were killed and the driver took off.”

  “That’s awful,” replied Mr. Frank, sounding like he meant it.

  “Yes. Nancy was one of the first people on the scene. It was gruesome. I still don’t think the police have caught ’em yet.”

  “Do you know where I can get hold of Nancy?”

  “I think she’s staying with friends or relatives until she gets over the shock. I’ve been picking up her mail and my son has been mowing her lawn.”

  “When does she come to get her mail?”

  “She doesn’t drive. A policewoman has been picking it up for her once a week.”

  “A policewoman?” replied Mr. Frank, quickly taking another glance up and down the street.

  “Really decent of the police, when you think about it,” added the woman. “Nancy is in no shape to be running around.”

  “I see. Do you know where she is staying?”

  “No, I only have a cellphone number for her. If you leave whatever it is that you have with me, I’ll see that she gets it. I’ve got some mail for her already. I bet it will be picked up Monday or Tuesday.”

  “What I have is something to pass on to her verbally,” replied Mr. Frank. “It isn’t urgent enough to bother her, but I would like to talk to her in person when it is convenient.”

  “Oh?” The woman studied him closer, noting that he was wearing a suit and tie. “Let me guess,” she said. “You’re a realtor, aren’t you?”

  Mr. Frank grinned. “You’re pretty sharp.”

  “One was knocking on my door last week, saying a developer was interested. We get you people around all the time. I’m certain that Nancy isn’t interested in selling.”

  “I see. Sorry to have bothered you,” replied Mr. Frank. “In case she ever changes her mind, do you know by chance when she will be returning home?”

  “No, but I think it will be soon. She told me she isn’t going to put up with it much longer.”

  “Put up with it?”

  The woman shrugged and said, “I presume with whoever she is staying with. You know the adage, company is like fish. After three days …”

  Mr. Frank turned and walked away. He tried to control his anger as he walked back to his car. Bad enough that the police had a Vietnamese informant to tell them that the death was not accidental … but to kill the wrong person? Sheer incompetence!

  As he started his car, his apprehension grew. The police must suspect it might have something to do with Mia. If she is convicted … or if AOCTF puts their suspicions on paper it will alert the benefactor. They will suspect I was hiding it from them. She will be interviewed. Wine on her blouse … the drugs she had … feeling drugged herself…. Every word she utters will be another nail in my coffin …

  He caught a glimpse of himself in the rear-view mirror. Drastic action needs to be taken …

  It was ten o’clock Monday morning and Jack was sipping a coffee at his desk and chatting with Laura when his cellphone rang. The call display told him it was from the elementary school that both his sons attended and he quickly answered.

  “Mr. Taggart? My name is Rosemarie. I’m calling —”

  “Is everything alright with Mike and Steve?” asked Jack, ignoring Laura’s startled glance.

  “Yes, yes, they’re fine,” replied Rosemarie.

  “They’re fine,” said Jack, looking at Laura, who smiled to show her relief.

  “Yes, they’re both fine,” repeated Rosemarie. “I work in administration and, uh, well I wanted to check something out with you.”

  Jack could tell by the tone of her voice that she was hedging around what she really wanted to ask. She was suspicious of something. “I’m listening,” said Jack.

  “Well, uh, occasionally we have the children fill out forms in case of an emergency. We ask what their parents do for a living and for a phone number we could use to contact them if need be.”

  “I understand,” replied Jack. “So what is the problem?”

  “Well, uh, no real problem. I was only curious about your occupation.”

  “Oh?”

  “Both your sons wrote down ‘entrepreneur’ as your occupation. Pretty big word for kids who are only in grades two and three.”

  Jack smiled to himself. “Entrepreneur” was also a word that drug-traffickers and other criminals sometimes used to explain their business. Rosemarie was astute enough to be suspicious. Her interest was the well-being of his children and he decided to have a little fun with her. “It is a big word,” replied Jack. “They shou
ldn’t be using it if they don’t know what it means.”

  “Oh, they know what it means, all right. I had their teachers ask them. Michael politely informed his teacher that entrepreneur was a noun and referred to someone who runs a business at his own financial risk. Your son, Steven, in grade two, said it was a middleman in business who invested in things to make money.”

  “I see, so what is the problem then? Did they spell the word wrong?”

  “Uh, well …”

  Jack heard a shuffling of paper before she continued. “Actually, no. They both spelled it correctly. You have really bright children,” she murmured.

  “Thanks. They take after their mother.”

  “I see. Well, uh, when they were asked what kind of things you invested in, they were more noncommittal and didn’t really know. I was, uh, curious to see if the phone number they gave for you actually worked or was one I could always reach you at.”

  Jack decided he had toyed with Rosemarie enough and told her his real occupation and explained to her that his work was secret and he had taught his children not to divulge what he did. He also thanked her for her concern and told her to look up the general RCMP phone number and have the switchboard transfer her call to him for verification.

  After hanging up, Jack told a bemused Laura about the call.

  Laura snickered and shook her head. “Your two little guys are incredible. Remember when we used them in the undercover operation with Sue McCormick in the Sexual Offence Unit to catch that serial rapist?”

  Jack nodded, smiling.

  “Your little guys played their roles like a couple of pros,” said Laura with a chuckle. “Did you know that we left them alone in a car for a few minutes and had another seasoned undercover operator question them to see if they knew their stuff before using them?”

  “They told me they had been questioned.”