by Don Easton
“Well, guess I’m your friend ... so that’s what I’ll call you.”
Jack paused for a moment, then said, “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“I think you know.”
Jack’s thoughts were on Ophelia and the woman in the alley as he drove to the daycare. He grabbed his cell-phone and called Connie Crane.
“I checked out the Black Water regarding the guy found in the alley,” said Jack.
“Any luck?”
“Dead end.”
“Well, thanks for trying.”
“Victim Services involved with the wife?”
“I presume so. It’s a City case. He was married?”
“Yes. His wife and two kids were laying flowers where his body was found.”
“Too bad. Hope they solve it.”
“Pass on to City to have Victim Services contact the wife’s doctor. She should be checked for AIDS.”
“I know the bar is sleazy, but just for having a beer?”
“It was more than beer,” Jack said, then hung up.
Connie stared at the telephone still in her hand. Tell me again it was a dead end ... lying son of a bitch.
Jack picked Jenny up on schedule and explained that they were going to meet her mommy at the hospital.
The trip was uneventful as Jenny tried to impress Jack with everything she knew, including her ability to count and to sing nursery rhymes.
They were just pulling into the hospital lot when Jenny asked, “Are you going to be my new daddy, now?”
Jack felt a pang of guilt, then said, “No, I’m married to another lady. But if your mom says it’s okay, I could sort of be like an uncle to you.”
“What’s a dunkle?”
“Not ... never mind, there’s your mom now.”
Locked cars were something that Jack was experienced with. It took him only a few seconds to gain entry.
“Why do I even bother to lock it?” asked Holly.
“Keeps the honest people out,” replied Jack.
“Not that. I mean it’s just a piece of junk. No decent car thief would want to be seen in it.”
Jack made a quick examination under the hood and discovered that the battery was as old as the car. He told her that she would just need a boost and that he would call a tow truck. He suggested that Holly and Jenny wait in the hospital. It was rush hour and the tow truck might be a while.
Jack sat briefly in his own car to use his cellphone. A tow truck would be along in an hour, as soon as the new battery was charged. He gave them his cell number and told them to call when they arrived.
Jack met Holly in the reception area and they went to see Charlie. Jenny clung to her mother’s leg, sucking her thumb as they walked.
Jack heard Charlie before he saw him. He was under enough medication to stop him from crying, but not from whimpering.
Tears filled Holly’s eyes. She desperately wanted to pick him up and hold him, but he was still too fragile. Instead, she held his hand in hers and tried to soothe him. It was the longest hour Jack ever endured. He felt ashamed at his relief when the tow truck arrived and he hurried out ahead of Holly to look after the matter.
He was embarrassed further when Holly demanded that she pay for the boost. Jack accepted the fifteen dollars that he told her it cost.
When Jack arrived back in his own apartment parking garage, he shut off the car and sat for a moment, then reached for the sun visor. He removed the picture that Holly had given him at the hospital when she told him about Charlie’s paralysis. It was Charlie taking his first steps. Will you ever walk again? He placed the photo back in the sun visor and went to his apartment.
Natasha wasn’t about to let him retreat into his own thoughts. Dinner had barely started when she looked at him and said, “Okay, what the hell is going on? Are you upset with something I said or did? Talk to me!”
Jack looked at her and said, “It’s not you.”
“Then what is it?”
Jack’s anger flooded his brain. Doesn’t she appreciate what I’ve been going through? He put his fork down on the table and said, “Let me tell you about what has happened in the last week and a half! A husband is murdered because he had my name. I take down a bunch of speed labs and an old man is murdered because the price of speed went up! I help catch the guy who did that but let another fellow get his skull bashed in the process!”
Jack paused and returned Natasha’s stare. He felt the anger drain. “It seems that the harder I work, the more grief I bring on everybody,” he added, quietly.
Natasha was accustomed to grief and sorrow. Anger too. It didn’t matter that Jack was her husband, the man she loved. She was a professional, as was her response: “Consequences are not always easy to predict. Could you ever have predicted that Holly’s husband would be murdered?”
“No, but...”
“But shut up and listen!”
Jack opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it. “So that was not your fault. Do you think whoever did that should get away with it?”
“No.”
“Good, because that person is a psychopath. Hope you stop him before it happens again.”
Me too. Stop him dead.
“As far as the labs go, how many kids might be dissuaded from taking the drug because the price has gone up? Can you tell me those consequences of your actions?”
“Of course not.”
“Now, letting a man get his skull cracked open is a little different. You told me before that you might have been able to stop it — so why didn’t you?”
“I was angry. Angry that people like him sexually exploit young girls.”
“Makes me angry as well.”
“Still don’t know if what I did was right.”
“Do you want to take a poll? Maybe half the world would say you were wrong. Maybe they all would. That doesn’t really matter. It’s what you think that counts. It is what you have to live with that is important.”
Jack thought about it for a moment, then said, “That’s not true. Your opinion counts a great deal.”
Natasha smiled slightly and said, “And it damn well should. I know you see the world in all its ugliness. Violent, unpredictable, unfair, and often unjust. You’re a really compassionate guy. You base your actions on your own experiences ... through your own eyes. I have faith that you will continue to do what is morally right. You’re a turkey, but you haven’t let me down yet.”
Jack looked down at his plate and reflected upon her words, conscious that she was still staring at him. He looked up, gave a grim smile, and said, “Thanks.”
Natasha smiled back and then said, “Now, want to ask me about my day? Being a doctor in a clinic on the east end ... a pansy like you wouldn’t last ten minutes!”
It was early Friday morning and not yet light when Jack and Danny met Lance in the cemetery.
“The next ship arrives Tuesday,” said Lance. “One metric tonne. I’m in charge of stashing it.”
“Details,” said Jack. “Precise.”
“Well, as I told ya before. We already paid $3 mil U.S. up front. That was on the first boat. Carlos put that toward this shipment when they lost the other one in San Diego. When this one arrives, Brutus and a couple of strikers will make the second half of the payment.”
“Where?” asked Jack.
“He hasn’t picked a spot yet and I might never know where. My job is to see that the dope is stashed. Tomorrow I’m gonna talk with one of my guys and tell him to rent a storage locker. On Tuesday, we’ll have an Econoline van at the dock. Once it’s loaded, I’ll have three guys take it to the storage locker and stay with it overnight. Next day it’ll be split up and sent out on deliveries.”
“Who will you order to get the locker?” asked Jack.
“One of the strikers. Maybe Silent Sam or Dragon.”
“John Dragonovich?” asked Danny. “I thought he had his full patch.”
“Not yet,” replied Lance. “He’s only been striking f
or a year and a half. He’s got at least another six months to go, and that’s if he’s lucky.”
“Use Silent Sam,” said Jack. “He’s the one who was busted with the labs. If there is any heat, they’ll be looking at him.”
Lance winced and said, “Ouch! I was afraid you would say that. If you take down the stash site, I’ll be burned for sure. Only me and Silent Sam will know where the locker is until it is stashed. Then nobody calls or leaves the place until the next day when the deliveries go out.”
“Thought you said there would be three guys with it?” asked Jack.
“Yeah, to ride shotgun and sit in the locker overnight. But two of ’em won’t know the location until they get there.”
“What about Damien?” asked Jack. “When will he pop his face in for a look?”
Lance shook his head and said, “Not a chance. He’s paid his dues. He won’t be anywhere near the money or the coke. When it’s done, I’m supposed to drop by his house and let him know.”
“This much coke and he doesn’t even want to see it!” said Jack. “He has to! The club will clear about $15 mil on this! You telling me he doesn’t even want to see it?”
“That’s what I’m tellin’ ya. There is no way he’ll be around any part of the action.”
“Then see to it somehow! I want him nailed!”
Lance’s voice revealed his exasperation. “You tell me, then. How do I do it? You want me to hog-tie him and throw him in the van with the dope?”
Jack’s silence told Lance that he knew involving Damien wasn’t possible.
Danny was feeling slightly euphoric as he and Jack walked back to their car. “This is great,” he said. “Don’t think we’ve ever taken down this much blow before. At least not in B.C. Wait til the narcs hear about this! We just have to figure out a way to protect our friend. Maybe do the ship as soon as it docks.”
“We’re not telling the narcs,” said Jack.
“Christ, you’re right. There’s a leak...”
“Not the leak. Damien.”
“Damien?”
“I want him.”
“Can’t be done. You heard what our friend said.”
“We have to!” yelled Jack. “I can’t go on with this hanging over my —” Jack caught himself and didn’t finish.
Danny looked silently at Jack, then said, “Go on. What is hanging over your head?”
Jack stopped walking. He stood with his head hanging down for a moment, then whispered, “I owe Damien a favour. One get-out-of-jail-free card.”
Danny’s face slowly grew redder as he realized what the favour was.
“God damn you! You found Bishop! Damien told you ... then you...” Danny didn’t finish the statement. He didn’t want to hear an admission of murder.
Jack stared at Danny for a moment and then said, “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I just wasn’t thinking about the consequences. Damien did me a favour and I promised I would do one for him someday. I’m keeping my word.”
“How? By tipping him off to something?” yelled Danny. “That won’t solve anything!”
“No. I’m going to catch him and then let him go. It’s what the courts do anyway.”
“Well, la-de-da! That’s just great, isn’t it?”
Jack didn’t respond.
Danny’s frustration was still evident in his voice. “Tell me how you plan on getting evidence on Damien, seizing a tonne of coke, and then letting him go without the brass freaking out? If you did pull it off, the brass sure as hell wouldn’t let you drop any of the charges!”
“It’s simple. Only you and I take the dope. We get the evidence to connect Damien, then I let Damien off and say we’re even.”
Danny wondered if he was supposed to laugh, but the look on Jack’s face said he wasn’t joking. “You’re bloody insane! Damn it, Jack! I can’t sleep at night as it is. I’m still having nightmares about bikers trying to ambush us ... people dying! There’s no way. You’ll get us both killed!”
“There’s a way,” said Jack. “A way to protect our friend, too.”
Danny knew that he would be sorry if he asked how. Jack will only sucker me in to helping. He turned his back and walked toward the car.
Jack trudged silently behind.
After several steps, Danny spun around and said, “So what do you have in mind?”
chapter thirteen
On Saturday at noon, Jack and Danny followed Silent Sam and watched him rent a large storage unit that was three-quarters of the way down a row of similar units. When he left, Jack rented the unit next to it. Moments later, Jack and Danny went inside their unit to look at it more thoroughly.
The storage unit was made to accommodate a truck and had a garage door at the entrance, along with a normal-sized door beside it. The inside walls were constructed of cement blocks that went from the floor to the ceiling. There were no windows but there was an overhead light.
“Perfect,” said Jack. “They have an electrical outlet.”
“Now what?” grumbled Danny.
“To the Spy Store. Now you get a lesson on video and audio installation and recording. We’ll also need bolt-cutters, a couple of short-range walkie-talkies, a drill, and a masonry bit.”
“And balaclavas,” said Danny.
“Right.”
“Shotguns too.”
“Of course. I’ll also pick up a couple of industrialsize plastic pails, some springs, and duct tape. That should be it.”
“One more thing you forgot.”
“What’s that?” asked Jack.
“Extra life insurance.”
It was nine o’clock on Tuesday night when Silent Sam opened the overhead door to the storage locker. Jack and Danny watched and recorded the event through their camera set up in the adjacent unit. Silent Sam held something inside his jacket. When he stepped inside, they saw that it was a Mac-10 machine pistol.
Dragon then backed an Econoline van into the unit. Silent Sam closed the overhead door before Dragon stepped out, along with another biker nicknamed Pan-Head. All three men carried Mac-10s. They walked to the back of the truck and opened the door, out of sight of the surveillance camera.
Jack and Danny looked at each other.
“This won’t work if they stay in the truck,” whispered Danny.
Danny was right. They needed the element of surprise. The Brushmaster shotguns with the folding stocks that they carried were deadly weapons in a close situation, but the spray of bullets from three Mac-10s would easily outgun the pump-action of the shotguns.
They both breathed a sigh of relief when the bikers brought out a folding card table with chairs and set them up in front of the truck. Luck was on their side.
Jack waited until after the storage locker was closed for the night, then crept out and used bolt-cutters to take the padlock off the front gate to the facility. Minutes later, he rejoined Danny and quietly said, “It’s time. Grab the balaclavas.”
Jack and Danny crept up to the door leading into the biker’s unit. They held their shotguns at the ready.
“On the count of three,” whispered Jack.
The noise and sight of two masked men bursting through the door with shotguns panicked everyone.
“Move and you’re dead!” yelled Jack.
Silent Sam lurched backwards, toppling his chair over as he crashed to the floor, while Dragon remained where he was, with his mouth and eyes opened wide. Pan-Head paused, then scooped his weapon from beside the table and tried to bring the barrel around to fire.
He was too late. Jack leaped forward and with a quick reverse thrust of the shotgun slammed the stock against the side of Pan-Head’s face, breaking his jaw and cheekbone while sending him crashing to the floor. He then stepped on the Mac-10, pinning it to the floor. He needn’t have bothered. It was almost a minute before Pan-Head regained consciousness. When he did, his two friends were lying sprawled face-down on the floor beside him.
While Danny provided cover, Jack plastered strips of
duct tape tightly across Dragon’s and Pan-Head’s noses and the tender skin around their eyes. He then bound their hands behind their backs.
Jack pointed at Silent Sam and said in a loud voice, “Okay, I’m gonna tape you up real good, and then you’re gonna be goin’ for a ride.”
Jack peeled off a strip of pre-cut tape from the roll. All but the ends of the strip had been taped face to face with another strip of tape. The end result was a cover over Silent Sam’s eyes that was twice as thick but not sticky. He then bound Silent Sam’s arms behind his back, wrapping the tape around the shirtsleeves covering his wrists.
With the three bikers trundled up on the floor, Jack turned to Danny and said, “Okay, check out the truck.”
Danny did so, noting that the keys were still in the ignition. He went to the rear of the truck and returned with two kilos of cocaine and set them down at Jack’s feet.
“Good,” said Jack. “Now go get the device. Be fuckin’ careful you don’t drop it!”
“You’re tellin’ me!” replied Danny, disappearing out the door.
Moments later Danny returned and set two plastic pails upside down a short distance from each other on the floor. On the outside bottom of each plastic pail was a bed spring. A short section of the spring protruded inside the pail through a small hole that had been drilled in the bottom. Holes cut in the sides of the pails allowed a short stick to be used as a cross-bar to provide a base for the springs to maintain pressure.
Danny then placed a kilo of cocaine under each pail.
Jack set a walkie-talkie on the floor halfway between the two pails, then carefully helped Pan-Head to his feet and guided him over to a pail. He taped his ankles together and then sat him down on the spring.
Pan-Head tried to speak but his broken jaw told him that wasn’t such a good idea. His question was answered seconds later, when Dragon’s ankles were bound and he was placed sitting on the other pail.
“What the fuck is that under my ass?” asked Dragon. “What are you guys doin’ to us? What am I sittin’ on?”
Both Pan-Head and Dragon quit squirming when they heard Jack’s voice from the other side of the room.