Jack Taggart Mysteries 7-Book Bundle

by Easton, Don

  “Mister Pops! I must know. Don’t make me wait. Please ... tell me now.”

  Pops turned to look at the calendar and looked at Linh and smiled. “It is your first red-circle day tomorrow,” he said.

  Abruptly he stepped forward again, raising the bat menacingly over her head and she stepped back.

  “No!” Pops shouted. “I will not tell you now! You will wait until tomorrow.” He lowered the bat and, almost as an afterthought, he said, “It is Saturday tomorrow. When I come home from work I will be off for the next two days. I think it will be best if I give you all the surprises during that time.”

  Linh watched as Pops leaned the bat up against the box and placed another X on the calendar. He stared at her intently before gathering up the hose and disappearing back out the passageway.

  It was eleven o’clock at night when Natasha heard Jack arrive and the noise of his suitcase landing on the tiled floor at the front door. She was ready for bed, but he had called so she waited, watching the The National on CBC.

  “Let me guess, don’t tell me your name,” said Natasha teasingly, before kissing him warmly on his lips. She stepped back and looked at him again. “I’m not sure ... maybe if I use a little more passion.” She kissed him again, taking her time and running the end of her tongue around his lips before stepping back.

  “Now do you remember who I am?” asked Jack.

  “I’ve certainly narrowed it down to a short list.”

  “Really? How many names are on that short list?”

  “Unfortunately, quite a few. Do you have any distinguishing marks or scars to jog my memory?”

  “I can’t remember. Maybe if you allowed me a moment to take my coat off and undress we could find out.”

  Natasha smiled and hugged him again. “I missed you. I’m so glad you’re back. Travelling to all these exotic places ... with another woman, I might add.”

  “Speaking of Laura, you didn’t happen to buy her a certain bottle of perfume, did you? As a bon voyage present?”

  Natasha furrowed her eyebrows and said, “No, I never ... ah, ha! Your allergies.”

  “I did get you a little something,” said Jack, handing her a large plastic bag.

  Natasha peered inside the bag. “A conical hat!” she laughed, quickly trying it on. “What do you think? Perfect for the rain we’re getting this time of year.”

  “Looks adorable, but the outfit isn’t complete. There’s more. I just have to unpack it.”

  Natasha followed Jack into the bedroom and watched him unpack.

  “You must be exhausted,” she said.

  “Managed to catch a couple of winks on the plane, but not much.”

  “How did everything go? Earlier, when we talked, you said you were putting the father into jail with them.”

  “Partly successful,” said Jack. “He learned that the two Russians and one of the Tran brothers likely know where Linh is, but that is all. Homicide will work through the night on it. Laura and I are meeting with them in the morning.”

  “These guys are monsters,” said Natasha. “They should be ...”

  “I know,” said Jack. “Let’s not talk about that now.”

  “Sorry.” Natasha changed the subject and said, “I bet you’re glad that Jacob recanted your transfer.”

  Jack paused and grinned. “Yeah, Jacob to you. God to me.”

  Jack found the package wrapped in soft tissue paper and handed it to Natasha. She tore it open and saw the silk gown.

  “Traditional Vietnamese gown,” said Jack. “I hope it fits.”

  “It’s beautiful!” said Natasha. “Thank you,” she added, kissing him on the cheek. “Give me a minute in the bathroom to try it on. You finish unpacking.”

  Minutes later, Natasha decided that the outfit looked really good on her. It was tailored to fit the curves of her body perfectly. She leaned into the mirror and re-did her makeup, before lightly tossing her hair with her hands.

  “What do you think?” she asked, walking into the bedroom and giving a wave of her arms to show off her new outfit.

  Jack didn’t respond. He was sprawled across the bed, sound asleep.

  Connie glanced at her watch when she saw Jack and Laura walk up to her desk. It was eight o’clock in the morning. She stifled a yawn before asking, “What did you do with Bien?”

  “We told him we’d meet him today for lunch. How did you make out?”

  “Nada. Nothing. Most everyone in our office has been up all night and we don’t have a thing to show for it.”

  “No third party connection?” asked Laura.

  “Not a fucking one,” said Connie, angrily. She looked at Jack and said, “So now what the hell do we do? They’ll all be released in a couple of hours and we still don’t have a clue as to where she is.”

  “At least now we know that Dúc and the Russians probably have a good idea as to who has her,” said Jack.

  “So what?” said Connie. “After yesterday, they’ll all be too paranoid to go anywhere near where Linh is. Besides, they have no reason to. It’s not like we have a clue. If we do risk putting surveillance on them and they spot it—you both know what will happen.”

  “You’re tired,” said Jack. “You’ve been up all day and all night.”

  “Christ,” said Connie, dismissing Jack’s comment with a wave of her hand. “I even considered telling Dúc that the charges might go away and his money might reappear if he had something of value to give us.”

  “They would figure that out pretty quick,” said Jack. “You’d be signing Linh’s death warrant. Not to mention that Dúc is involved with this. He has his own ass to protect.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “Go home, get some sleep,” said Jack. “It’s easier to think of a game plan when you’ve had a little shut-eye.”

  “Yeah? Well you just had some. Do you have a game plan?”

  “So you don’t have any surveillance planned on Dúc or the Russians?” asked Jack.

  Oh, man ... I don’t like the sounds of this, decided Laura.

  “No,” said Connie. “Like I said, we don’t dare chance it.”

  “I agree completely. Just wanted to make sure.”

  Connie glanced at her watch and said, “Damn it, I’m already late to talk to Isaac. He wants to be debriefed personally on this twice a day. So what are you two going to do?”

  “Look for a new informant,” said Jack. “Maybe some way to get in through the back door.”

  “Yeah, well ... good luck.”

  Laura waited until they were in the car and looked at Jack and said, “I heard you in there.”

  “Heard me what?”

  “You’re pleased that they’re not being followed. I know you, it’s more than just not tipping them off. What’s up? What’s this about getting a new informant?”

  “Two of them,” said Jack. “Moustache Pete and the Fat Man.”

  “You can’t be serious. They’ll never turn! You ask them anything and Linh will end up in another Dumpster.”

  “We won’t ask them anything. All we have to do is get them to tell us.”

  “What, some kind of UC? The Trans didn’t take the bait with Bien.”

  “A UC, but we keep Bien out of this.”

  “How? You got an angle to get in with the Russians?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even if we do gain their trust ... I doubt that they would ever talk about it. Or if they do, they’re smart enough not to give away any details that would let us locate her.”

  “That depends upon our approach,” replied Jack, giving a grim smile. “I think I figured out something from what Bien told us last night. The part about the Trans wondering why the Russians didn’t sell them the girls for more money.”

  “I remember.”

  “So why didn’t they?”

  Laura paused and watched as a group of school children walked across the road in front of them. She glanced at Jack and said, “I don’t know. Maybe doing someone a favour.�
�

  “These guys deal in human flesh ... children,” said Jack, gesturing to the group crossing the road. “They don’t do any favours unless there is something in it for them.”

  “Such as?”

  “Remember what we heard in Cuba when they were waiting to meet with the Arabs at that restaurant? The comment about an insurance policy?”

  “Vaguely.”

  “They talked about the incident at the airport and how they had to be careful.”

  “Quaile.”

  “No doubt. Then Fat Man made a comment saying that is why they carry insurance. He said that with the police, insurance is always good.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “I think that is the reason they sold off the girls for less money. They want a pervert to have them. I think they know where Linh is, or at least know how to find out.”

  “The girls are their insurance policy!”

  Jack nodded. “If either of them gets taken down with anything serious, they’re going to use the girls as their insurance policy to walk away.”

  “That ... that is so sick.”

  “I know.”

  “We don’t have enough evidence to nail them for smuggling. As far as the courts would allow, all we have is mere association with the people we do have evidence on.”

  “I know, but ...”

  “A UC will take time to gain their trust.”

  “Who said anything about gaining their trust? That is definitely not part of the UC I have in mind.”

  “So I take it there was a reason why you didn’t mention this plan to Connie?”

  “I wouldn’t recommend you tell anyone about it.”

  Laura sighed. “Okay ... how, where and when?”

  “How ... is we kidnap them. Where ... is outside their apartment building. When ... is right now.”

  Oh, man ...

  chapter thirty-four

  Jack and Laura drove over to the Russians’ apartment building and parked where they could watch the front entrance.

  “Curtains are still pulled,” said Laura, as she scanned the penthouse suite with binoculars. “Still sleeping.”

  “We’ll wait. I’d better call Bien and tell him we can’t make lunch.”

  Or dinner either, if we end up in jail, thought Laura.

  Jack used his cellphone and called Bien’s hotel. The switchboard put the call through and Bien answered the call on the first ring.

  “Bien, it’s Jack, I take it I didn’t wake—”

  “Any news?” asked Bien. “Connie ... did she find something?”

  Jack grimaced and said, “I’m sorry, she didn’t find anything concrete yet.” He heard Bien’s forlorn sigh and continued, “But there are plenty of leads to follow. Laura and I are working on something now. That is why I’m calling. We won’t have time to meet you today for lunch ... I don’t know about supper.”

  “That is okay,” replied Bien sadly. “I wasn’t able to sleep last night. All I can do is think about ....” Bien stopped and said, “I have a bad headache. I will try to sleep or maybe go for a walk. If you have news, please call me. Otherwise I will call you when I have rested.”

  “Bien ... hang in there. Laura and I are working on this. We are doing everything possible.”

  Not everything, Bien thought, as he hung up the phone.

  The hours ticked by slowly for Jack and Laura as they waited in anticipation of what they were about to do.

  At one o’clock, Laura sighed and said, “The blinds are still closed.”

  Jack glanced upwards and nodded to indicate he heard, but his mind was brooding elsewhere. Today, two more men may go free for allowing children to be sexually exploited, abused ... and in this case, murdered. Free ... just like you, Douglas Henry.

  Jack tried to wipe the image of his father from his mind, but it seemed the harder he tried, the more the image persisted. Funny, I don’t even want to say he’s my father ... even in my thoughts I prefer to use his first and middle name ... but he is my father. Even worse, I’m a policeman and still can’t arrest him without someone willing to come forward. Victims ... remaining silent ... allowing the continued exploitation of other children. How many would have been saved if only one had the courage to come forward earlier and put a stop to it?

  “What about going up there and just hauling them out?” suggested Laura, interrupting his anguished thoughts.

  Jack shook his head and said, “They’ve got video in the lobby. If this goes sideways ...” Jack decided not to end that sentence. It wasn’t necessary to dwell on that possibility. The image of his father returned. How many died like my sister Bonnie? Or did some prefer the needle over the bottle?

  Douglas Henry ... you are able to spend your final days in perverted pleasure, knowing you are still able to inflict pain and anger on your own son—I wish there was life after death and a hell waiting for you ...

  Jack felt relieved when Laura once again interrupted his thoughts. “What if it does go as planned,” she asked. “Then what happens to us?”

  “Saving Linh is more important.”

  “I wasn’t meaning that we shouldn’t. It’s just that with you ....” she glared at Jack and added, “never mind.”

  “With me what?” asked Jack, as he took his turn with the binoculars.

  “The ideas you come up with.”

  “You don’t like this idea?” he asked, while refocusing the binoculars. “You’d rather yank out their fingernails?” Even for you, Douglas Henry, I would not do that. You are like a rabid dog. You should be destroyed—without feeling. Feeling anger would only make you happy.

  “No, torture is not an option I would use,” said Laura. “Although I have to admit, the idea has occurred to me, only I’d remove another part of their bodies.”

  “Sometimes I fantasize, too ... about a lot of people.”

  “You’re a man, I bet you do. Telling Connie she has buns of steel. Do you undress all women with your eyes?”

  Jack smiled, despite how he felt. “I prefer to use my fingers—”

  “Jerk.”

  “And there is just one woman I save that for.”

  “Oh.”

  “Trust me, Connie has never entered my fantasies. Besides, that is not what I meant when I asked you what you meant about my idea.”

  “It’s good. That’s why I asked. What if this does work? Do you have a story to explain it all to everyone else? One that would keep us employed? Not that it matters, if we find Linh alive, it will be worth it.”

  “Hadn’t really thought that far ahead yet. But—the blinds have just opened!” said Jack, passing the binoculars back to Laura.

  Bien stepped through the doorway into the Sacred Phoenix and looked around the restaurant. He was immediately hailed by Dúc.

  “I’m glad you made it,” said Dúc, while gesturing for his two brothers to make room while Cuóng hurried to obtain another chair.

  Bien nodded and said, “So is it true? Is the food better here than ... our last hotel?”

  Dúc laughed and said, “That hotel was truly a nuisance. The room service was totally inadequate. As you can see, we were all released—I should say, vacated, from that hotel this morning. I have been told by my lawyer that it is unlikely that I will ever have to return to that hotel, although the bill for it will be expensive. And you, my friend? How does it go? You still look upset. Will you have to return to that hotel?”

  “I was not charged with any crime—but I am very tired,” said Bien truthfully. “I did not sleep last night.”

  “Perhaps with a better meal in your stomach and some wine, it will help you to relax. Today, it will be my treat.”

  It was three o’clock before Moustache Pete and the Fat Man walked out the front entrance of their apartment building and sauntered down the sidewalk. They each carried telescopic umbrellas, but kept them closed. The darkening clouds were only threatening at the moment and the Fat Man held his umbrella by the cord on the handle and swirled it in an arc as
he walked.

  Moustache Pete was the first to notice the dark car pull up to the curb a short distance ahead of them—and the attractive woman who stepped out from the passenger seat as they approached.

  The man driving the car also got out and walked toward the rear of the car just as Moustache Pete and the Fat Man were about to walk past.

  “Police!” the woman yelled, while pointing a pistol at Moustache Pete’s face. “Don’t move!”

  Moustache Pete and the Fat Man’s mouths gaped open and they saw the flash of a badge in her other hand.

  “Both of you, put your hands up!” yelled the man behind them.

  Moustache Pete and the Fat Man both turned to see a second gun being pointed at them. They put their hands up and Moustache Pete asked, “What is this about? What have we done?”

  “You fit the description perfectly,” said the woman, “of two men who clubbed and robbed a man in an alley just two blocks from here.”

  “It wasn’t us,” said Moustache Pete, glancing at the Fat Man, who let out a big sigh and began to smile.

  “Gee, I’ve never heard that before,” replied the woman, sarcastically. “Put your hands on the roof of the car and back your feet away. You’re going in for a lineup.”

  Within seconds, Moustache Pete and the Fat Man found themselves handcuffed with their hands behind their back and placed in the back seat.

  “You will see that it is not us,” said Moustache Pete as the man buckled their seat belts across their laps. “How long will this lineup take?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Petya Globenko,” the man hissed. “I don’t want to hear a word from you ... ever.”

  Moustache Pete’s eyes opened wide and his mouth hung open.

  “You know who we are?” asked the Fat Man in astonishment.

  “Same goes for you, Styopa Ghukov,” the man snarled. “You’re finished. We know all about you.” He handed the woman the keys and said, “You drive. I’ll watch these bastards.”

  Moustache Pete and the Fat Man exchanged nervous glances. There was no denying the rage in the man’s eyes.

  This is somehow personal to him, Moustache Pete realized. I am sure we have never met ... He looked at the woman’s face in the rearview mirror and fell back in his seat as she peeled away from the curb. He glanced back at the man beside her. The man sat sideways in the seat watching them.