Above Ground

by Don Easton

  Hinds manoeuvred his car a block behind Damien and watched through binoculars. He knew that it wasn’t a casual after-dinner stroll. Damien walked fast and his physique implied that he was not on a fitness program. Damien was also being extra observant. Something is definitely up.

  Hinds reached for his radio to call for support. He knew that Damien’s experience eliminated the chance of being able to follow him with only one car without being detected.

  The response Hinds received indicated help would arrive in twenty-five minutes. Not soon enough, thought Hinds, as an SUV pulled alongside Damien and he quickly got in.

  Hinds watched as the SUV drove past him. He knew he had been lucky. The driver hadn’t seen him, which was good, because Hinds recognized him. It was Jack Taggart. What the hell is he doing with Damien?

  Hinds recalled reading a memo a couple of weeks earlier from the RCMP Anti-Corruption Unit requesting notification of police contact with Satans Wrath. Jack, you son of a bitch, what are you up to? Following you by myself is out of the question.

  chapter fifteen

  “What’s up?” growled Damien, as soon as Jack picked him up.

  “Got something to show you. I’ve rented a motel room,” replied Jack.

  “What is it?”

  “Has to wait until we get there. You’ll see. Trust me.”

  “Trust you? That’s a good one.”

  The rest of the drive was made in silence, with the exception of Damien’s grumblings that Jack could have rented a room a little closer to Vancouver, rather than halfway to Chilliwack.

  When they entered the motel room, Jack tossed an attaché case onto a small table near the window. Damien quickly walked through the unit to ensure they were alone and then took a seat at the table.

  Jack pulled the other chair out and spun it around backwards before sitting down with his arms resting on the back of the chair as he faced Damien.

  “Well? Get on with it,” said Damien. “I’m a busy guy. What’s this about?”

  Jack stared briefly at Damien and then said, “It’s about how I no longer owe you a favour.”

  Damien leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “I’m listening. How did you reach that conclusion?”

  “I’ve just saved you from going to jail. Even here in B.C., I figure you still would have received a long enough sentence that Buck, Sarah, and Kate would all have graduated before you got out.”

  Damien let out a grunt, then sneered and said, “Bullshit. I haven’t done anything to go to jail for.”

  “I’m not bullshitting you, so please do me a favour and don’t bullshit me. I find it insulting.”

  Damien paused and the sneer disappeared from his face. “Okay. What evidence do you think you have?”

  Jack stared intently at Damien. He felt his body tense, ready to fight. “I have a lot of evidence,” he said tersely. “In fact, if I was to weigh it, I would say it was about two kilos short of a metric tonne!”

  Damien stared back in disbelief. “It was you?” he uttered.

  Jack nodded and pointed to his attaché case and said, “Go ahead, open it. You can watch it on video — including the murder of Silent Sam.”

  “So this is how you pay back a favour?” said Damien, rising to his feet and shoving the attaché case off the table like it was poisonous. “You cost me my position in the club!” he roared.

  Jack remained seated. Keeping his voice even he said, “I would have done the same thing if I hadn’t owed you a favour. The difference is that someday you won’t be looking at pictures of your grandchildren from a jail cell.”

  Damien stared down at Jack. His breath came in pants and it took him a moment to regain his composure. He then bent down to pick up the case and Jack quickly stood and backed away.

  “I’m not going to hit you with the fucking thing,” said Damien, sitting back down in the chair.

  Damien was quiet for a moment and Jack readied himself for a fight. He discovered that Damien was more cerebral. A wry smile appeared on his face and he said, “You’ve got me. Checkmate. I concede your ... point.”

  Jack slid his chair a little farther back and then sat down.

  Damien stared at him and said, “I never thought it would end like this. A bullet in the back from an Indo maybe, but not from your side. I underestimated you. Wish I had Bishop’s murder on film.”

  “I only have one copy of Silent Sam’s,” replied Jack, gesturing to the attaché case. “After we watch it, you can destroy it. Then we’re going for a ride where you can see that something else is destroyed.”

  The drive to the farm was made in silence. Jack parked on an access road and used his flashlight to navigate through a short stretch of bush and into a field that was being cleared to make pasture.

  Damien looked down into the pit, where 998 kilos of cocaine had already been slashed open and mixed into a pile of brush. The smell of gas permeated the air as the last of it glubbed out of a barrel that Jack rolled along the top of the pit.

  The men watched in silence as the flames crackled and roared to a great height. Then Jack handed Damien a set of keys and said, “These belong to you. An Econoline van that I’ve got parked nearby in the driveway of an abandoned farmhouse. You can drive yourself back to the city.”

  Damien accepted the keys and said, “I guess one good thing came out of all this.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Not being top dog. I’m no longer a target. Who knows, maybe I’ll even be able to take my wife to bed without wondering who is listening.”

  “Unless, of course, you continue your criminal career.”

  Damien let out a snort and said, “I’m talking about other people. People with ambition. You got lucky. It won’t happen again. You mean nothing to me.”

  “So you agree that I no longer owe you a favour?”

  Damien didn’t answer for a moment, and Jack caught the look in his eyes as the flames flickered, casting shadows of light and darkness across his face. He really does look like the devil.

  Damien glared at him and said, “Yeah, but don’t ever ask me for another one. If you do, I’m liable to kill you myself.”

  Cecil Hinds had his surveillance team hiding near Damien’s estate waiting to video Jack and Damien together when they returned. He sat in his car with his hands in his jacket pockets. The weather had turned unseasonably cold for May, forcing him to shut the car off. Any exhaust coming from a parked car would quickly gather attention from those who were wary.

  There was one obvious conclusion that Hinds drew from the covert method the two men used to meet. Hinds was a good cop. Like all good cops, he hated criminals ... but like all good cops, he hated dirty cops more.

  Hinds was slightly disappointed when Damien reappeared four hours later driving a rented Econoline van and alone. Interesting. Why the van, and what part did Taggart play?

  It was nine o’clock the next morning when Hinds found out what the van had been used for. A striker for Satans Wrath had returned the van to the rental agency. Minutes later, Hinds field-tested the powdery residue found inside. Positive for cocaine!

  The chief officer in charge of CFSEU met with Assistant Commissioner Isaac within the hour. Moments later, Legg was also summoned to the meeting. Taggart had just become the Anti-Corruption Unit’s top priority.

  “Where are we with the pictures you sent to Mexico, Harry?”

  Legg squirmed slightly in his chair and replied, “We passed them on to the LO in Mexico City a week ago Monday. We haven’t heard back yet.”

  “Today is Friday. That makes it eleven days. Why the delay?”

  “The liaison officer indicated that the Mexican authorities won’t be eager to admit if they made a mistake. If Bishop’s death was not accidental, it would cause them embarrassment. It’s a delicate matter. The LO is trying to be discreet and go through the back door on this.”

  Isaac pointed his finger at Legg and said, “You tell the LO to forget about being delica
te! I don’t care who is embarrassed! Tell him to send it through channels immediately. If there are any problems, I’ll be talking with the Mexican ambassador myself!”

  Danny checked his watch as he walked with Jack through the cemetery. It was early afternoon but some people were getting a jump on the weekend. Rush hour had already started. “You figure we’ll be working late?” he asked.

  Jack glanced at him and said, “Guess it depends on what our friend has to say. Hoping to make it home for dinner?”

  Danny nodded. “I need a break. I’ve been on edge all week over ... the storage locker thing. I’m glad things worked out for you with Damien last night, though.”

  “Me too. Now if we could just find out who sent Connie that note I’d be happy.”

  “Wish she had a lead,” said Danny. “Everyone in the office is jittery. Hell, even the building, for that matter.”

  “It’s starting to get on my nerves, too,” replied Jack. “Let’s make this quick with our friend, then pop back to the office and head home. Natasha should get home around five-thirty. I want to be waiting for her with a bottle of wine when she does.”

  “Sounds good to me,” replied Danny, reaching for his cellphone to call Susan.

  “Hey, babe!” said Danny when she answered. “I’ll be home for dinner. Jack and I are taking the weekend off. How about taking a couple of steaks out of the freezer and not eating until after we put Tiff and Jimmy to bed?”

  Susan felt relief and joy flutter through her body. This was the Danny she had married. Not the bone-weary, stressed-out, and depressed man she had been putting up with for the last couple of weeks. “I’ll be glad to,” she replied, “except it’s cold and windy. You’ll freeze your butt off if you barbecue.”

  “Do we have any wine in the house?”

  “A bottle of Pinot Noir.”

  “Perfect. Then between you and the wine, I don’t expect to notice the cold. See you around five-thirty.”

  Jack saw Lance pacing back and forth as they approached. Not a good sign. He’s not the type to be easily upset.

  “What’s up?” asked Jack as they met.

  “You guys have really done it this time,” replied Lance. “Damien is really in shit. Basically a vote of non-confidence. The club is out $6 million U.S. Damien has to cough up $1.5 million of his own bread as a penalty.”

  “Where will he get the money?” asked Danny.

  “Don’t know. Probably from the Caymans, but he could just slap a mortgage on his house.”

  “Is he still boss?” asked Jack.

  “In name only. The Toad is taking over in the interim until we do a proper election. He’s going to handle things personally for the next shipment. This time the dope will be split up before it ever leaves the port.”

  “Which will be when?” asked Jack.

  “The Toad arranged for the $3 mil down payment to be made a couple of days ago. The ship is due to arrive in about a week. The Toad is arriving here again tomorrow, along with a couple of his own guys. We pay the other half as the ship is unloaded.”

  “Where does The Toad stay when he’s here?” asked Jack.

  Lance shrugged. “Different hotels and motels. No place for long.”

  “Anything else?” asked Danny.

  “Think that’s about it,” replied Lance. “You guys screwed Damien good. I expect things might be a little different around here with The Toad.”

  Danny checked his watch again and thought about Susan. To hell with Damien! Let’s go! He looked at Lance and said, “Stay in touch. We want to know every move The Toad makes.”

  “You got it,” replied Lance, turning to walk away.

  “Not so fast,” said Jack. “What else is going on?”

  “About what?” asked Lance, turning to look at Jack.

  Jack stared back but didn’t speak.

  Lance returned his stare, then swallowed and said, “Oh, yeah. Guess I should have mentioned it. Noon yesterday, Damien called a meeting with Whiskey Jake, Rellik, and me.”

  “What about?” asked Danny.

  “About who ripped off our dope. Damien is pissed. Anyone we know dealing pounds or kilos who didn’t get it from us is getting whacked. Damien wants names. I gave him two guys and Whiskey Jake knew four. Rellik’s crew has already taken care of three of them. The other three will be next. I think Rellik has a few names of his own as well.”

  “You what!” shouted Danny. “Jesus Christ! You can’t be working for us and tossing out names of guys to be murdered!”

  “Thought you might be pissed,” said Lance, “but what was I supposed to do? You guys put me in this position. You wanted me to become prez? Well, now I am. With power comes responsibility.”

  “Yeah, but...” Danny stopped as Jack held up his hand.

  “I understand,” said Jack. “Don’t worry about it,” he added, while placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

  “Don’t worry about it!” said Danny, as his face took on a mottled effect.

  “I appreciate that you’re in a tough spot,” continued Jack, speaking quietly to Lance. “Know that we won’t do anything to jeopardize you, but at the same time you don’t have immunity from any other cops. All I can promise is that we won’t help them.”

  Lance nodded that he understood.

  “Now,” added Jack, “give us whatever details you have. Who, when, where.”

  Susan prepared a baby bottle for Jimmy. If I want him to go quietly to bed tonight I better wake him soon. She glanced at Tiffany, who had been on her riding toy for an hour. Her feet sounded like a galloping centipede as she raced around the table on the linoleum floor while working her arms to steer. She’ll sleep tonight!

  Jimmy let out a high-pitched scream and Susan abruptly stopped what she was doing. It was a sound that all mothers instinctively knew. It wasn’t a cranky cry. He was in pain, and she ran to his crib.

  Jimmy was lying in his crib on his back, his face red and contorted in pain. Susan reached for him as she noticed a bloody pinch mark on his cheek. At less than three months old, Jimmy wasn’t even able to roll over.

  “Jimmy! What...”

  Susan pulled the blanket back but never succeeded in picking up her baby. She felt a man’s hand choke off her windpipe and heard him say, “Now be quiet, my little bird. I don’t want to hurt your baby again.”

  Ten minutes later, Susan found herself duct-taped to a kitchen chair. Her mouth had been taped but not her eyes. She believed there were at least four men, maybe five. They all wore ski masks and latex gloves. Two of them had their jackets undone and she saw pistols stuck in their belts.

  Tiffany started to cry behind her and she twisted in her chair but was bound too tight to see. Moments later her crying stopped; Jimmy still sobbed from his crib. What have they done! What have they done to my Tiffany!

  As if reading her thoughts, one man partially spun her chair so she could see that Tiffany was being held by a man who had his hand over her mouth.

  None of the men had spoken a word except the one who grabbed her. His eyes were dark brown, maybe black, and he spoke with a British accent. She saw him nod at a man behind her, who then dragged her chair over and sat her facing her patio door.

  Susan looked past their barbecue and at a metre-high above-ground pool that Danny had set up in the yard. The yard was well treed but Danny had built their fence extra high for even more privacy.

  What do they want? Is it Danny? Are they waiting for him? She glanced at the clock on her oven. It was 3:ffl. An hour and forty-five minutes before Danny...

  “Now then,” said the man with the British accent, bending over her. “I suppose you are wondering why we are doing this. The reason is rather simple, really. You have befriended a particular policeman who has taken it upon himself to bring an overzealous approach to his work. A chap by the name of Jack Taggart.”

  He stared into her eyes. Susan stared back, too afraid to move.

  “There is no use denying your friendship to this man. As I
recall, you had him over for dinner not long ago. I believe you served him Yorkshire pudding. An excellent dish. Something I rather fancy myself.”

  He motioned with his head and another man carried Tiffany into view. Her mouth was now taped, as were her hands behind her back. Her ankles were also bound. Susan wriggled and tried to shout through her own tape. The only sound she made was a murmur.

  “Now, as punishment for your friendship with Officer Taggart, I have decided to kill one of your babies. You can decide which one!”

  Danny kept his thoughts to himself until they returned to the office. Once they parked and got out of the car he couldn’t contain himself any longer.

  “Damn it, Jack! He’s a party to murder! We can’t let him be doing this! Throwing out names for people to be murdered! This isn’t right!”

  Jack leaned back against the car and folded his arms across his chest. “So what do you expect him to do? If he doesn’t act like one of the pack, it won’t take them long to figure out what’s going on. Then he’s dead.”

  “Then maybe we should drop him as an informant!”

  “What? You’ve got to be kidding! After all the work we went through just to turn him ... forget it! It’s our job to find out what is going on. You can’t send a poodle into a wolf pack. We need him. Next to Damien, he’s the most valuable source we could ever get.”

  “And what’s it gotten us? You’ve seen The Toad’s file. He makes Damien look like a choir boy! We haven’t accomplished squat! All we’ve done is made things worse.”

  “How is taking down boatloads of coke and costing the club $6 million making it worse?”

  Danny didn’t reply, so Jack added, “This is still the beginning. We’re barely started. With our friend in the position he is in, we can really do some damage to these guys.”

  “I don’t know,” said Danny. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” The anger had gone from his voice. He sounded tired and beaten.