Dead Ends

by Don Easton

  “What is this place?” asked Laura. “The Canadian Mint doesn’t have this much security.”

  Jack didn’t respond as he was busy copying licence plates into his recorder as they drove down the block.

  Seconds later, Rodine returned to his car, only to drive into the apartment’s underground parking garage. Five minutes later he drove back out onto the street and was followed to downtown Vancouver. After stopping at Basil Westmount’s office, he returned home.

  Connie remained in Vancouver for her court case. It was later adjourned so she returned to where the surveillance team was parked at Rodine’s house. Connie got in the back seat of Jack and Laura’s car as Jack was calling in the licence plates he’d recorded from the apartment building.

  Many of the plates were associated to gang members in The Brotherhood. Jack’s next call was to Dan Mylo in the Organized Crime Task Force who said that the apartment building was of particular interest. The apartment manager was a man by the name of Sy Sloan, who was the leader of one of the gangs.

  “We think Sy controls the whole building as far as who is allowed to live there,” said Dan. “Sy is out of shape, but he is monstrous in size and looks intimidating. The apartment building is like a fort. He picks and chooses who lives there. You won’t get inside without them knowing. All the straight citizens have been driven out.”

  “You have any wire on the occupants?” asked Jack.

  “Not at the moment,” replied Dan. “Not enough grounds. If you can help us in that regard it would be much appreciated.”

  “I think Rodine is delivering meth to someone in the apartment, but I don’t know who.”

  “That’s the problem we’ve been having. We’ve had targets come and go, but once they’re inside that place, who knows what is going on or who they’re meeting,” said Dan.

  “We need an informant,” said Jack.

  “That we do, my friend, that we do.”

  Jack hung up and told Laura and Connie what he had learned.

  “Figure Rodine is delivering meth to The Brotherhood?” asked Connie.

  “Positive,” replied Jack. “My guess is he got paid for it and then went and paid his lawyer.”

  “Think maybe we should bust him next time and see if he’ll talk?” suggested Connie.

  “He won’t talk,” replied Jack. “There is no incentive. Not with what he would get in court. Satans Wrath would deal out a far worse punishment. Plus we don’t have grounds to stop and search him. His first call would be to Basil Westmount.”

  “Maybe you could make a UC buy from him?”

  “This guy is a cook, not the dealer. Besides, even if I did, there is no incentive strong enough for him to talk.”

  “Isn’t there something we can do?”

  “We should do surveillance on the apartment building,” said Jack. “Figure out who more of the players are. We could get lucky. Maybe Cocktail lives in the building or visits here.”

  “If we get lucky … but then what? I need evidence. Bullshit gossip doesn’t stand up. Hang on, I’m calling PPSC to see what my chances are of getting a wire on Rodine.”

  Connie spoke for several minutes with a Crown Prosecutor before hanging up. She was quick to the point. “Goddamn it! Goddamn it! God-damn it! He says I don’t have grounds for either a search warrant or a wire …” She drove her fist into the back of the seat and said, “Christ this is bullshit. We don’t even know if his place near the brewery is a lab.”

  Jack made eye contact with Laura and stared silently at her as Connie complained. Laura paused for a moment before giving a subtle nod.

  “We’re all tired,” said Jack. “Let’s go home early and reintroduce ourselves to our spouses.”

  “The day has turned out pretty good,” said Laura. “We’ve discovered his lab and know what apartment building he is delivering it to.”

  “We only think we’ve discovered his lab,” replied Connie. “And what good is that if Rodine won’t talk? We don’t even know if he knows Cocktail.”

  “As I said,” repeated Jack, “we’re all tired. A few days of surveillance on Sy and his people could turn up something.” He turned and stared at Connie and said, “Trust me, we will come up with something. I’m nauseated from the reports rolling in every day on what meth is doing to people. A lot of innocents are getting hurt.”

  “Hope you don’t think I’m blaming you,” said Connie. “I feel so frustrated. Maybe a good night’s sleep would help.”

  * * *

  It was two o’clock in the morning when Jack took the small leather case out of his jacket pocket. Laura, holding a flashlight, stood quietly as Jack picked the lock. When the door opened, they caught the strong smell of an odour that they knew did not come from the brewery. Seconds later, their sense of smell had been annihilated. It would be several hours before they would be able to smell again.

  “Not healthy in here,” whispered Laura.

  “I know. A quick peek and we’re gone.”

  The first room was a kitchen with an old table and chrome chairs with ripped plastic seat cushions. Down the hall was a bedroom. The door was open and Jack could see a grubby mattress lying on the floor. Opposite the bedroom was another door that was closed. Laura shone her flashlight on the door and Jack saw a picture of a small animal.

  “What’s that?” he said.

  “It’s a picture of a hamster,” replied Laura. “Gee, it’s really cute.” Her mind came back to the reason they were there and she gestured to the door. “What do you think?”

  “The lab room in Gabriel’s basement had something taped to the outside of the door,” said Jack. “About the same size. The room was also booby trapped.”

  “You think the hamster is a terrorist?”

  “I don’t know what the picture has to do with it. He does have beady eyes.”

  “How do you know it’s a he?”

  “He has whiskers.”

  Laura snickered and said, “Well, one thing is for certain. You’ve convinced me not to open this door. From what we smelled when we first came in, we know the lab is here.”

  “I’d feel better if I could see it,” replied Jack. “Go back and wait. I’ll be done in a second.”

  “No! You come, too. I’m not bringing you home to Natasha in a garbage bag.”

  Jack chuckled and said, “The booby trap was dismantled at Gabriel’s, but they left behind some eyehole screws above the door. I’m sure you can open the door a little to turn it off, but I want you to go.”

  “I’ll stay and hold the light,” she replied.

  “I’ll hold it in my mouth. Get out of here.”

  “If you think it is safe enough for you, then it is safe enough for me.”

  “You’re really stubborn, do you know that?” said Jack in exasperation.

  “Must be contagious. Hurry and get it over with.”

  “Okay, but at least stand to one side … and there won’t be any hurrying,” replied Jack, as he slowly turned the door knob. They both winced as the door clicked open a crack.

  “I’m going to hold the door steady,” said Jack. “Shine the light at the top of the jamb.”

  Laura did as instructed and Jack saw a slim metal lever extending up from the far side of the top of the door. He ran his fingers up the piece of metal and detected a strand of wire passing along the far side. He gently pushed on the side of the metal lever until it moved below the height of the wire. After exhaling audibly, he slowly pushed the door open.

  The room contained the lab. The wire wound its way through a couple of eyehole screws to a large glass carboy filled with liquid. There were several benches containing glassware and numerous bottles of chemicals. A wooden rack contained numerous cookie sheets with traces of white powder. “Don’t think that was cookies he was making,” commented Laura.

  “We’ve seen enough,” said Jack. “Too bad we have to keep this to ourselves.”

  * * *

  Over the next few days, the surveillance team disc
overed that Rodine would go to the meth lab during the day, only to return home at night where he and Venice would spend their time watching videos.

  It was Thursday afternoon and a week had passed since Rodine had won his court case. As usual, Connie sat slumped in the back seat of Jack and Laura’s car where they were parked down the street from Rodine’s house. Her disposition had become grumpier as the days passed.

  Occasional surveillance of The Brotherhood apartment building identified numerous criminals coming and going, including three prospects for Satans Wrath. Nobody had any name or occupation that would warrant the nickname of Cocktail. Jack believed that Rodine was the key and surveillance concentrated on him.

  “He’s not meeting anyone,” said Connie. “At least no asshole by the name of Cocktail that we know of. Maybe we should follow the prospects from Satans Wrath.”

  “Those guys are too well trained to lead us to Cocktail,” replied Jack. “Relax, I’ve got a plan to get an informant. Hopefully soon.”

  “What? This is the first I’ve heard of it,” said Connie. “Who? How —”

  “Who is on a need to know basis. Sorry, at the moment you don’t need to know. It would be better in court if you never knew.”

  “I suspect there are a lot things where it would be better if I didn’t know about you two,” said Connie. “Dare I ask how you’re going to do it?”

  Jack remained silent.

  “Okay,” said Connie. “Never mind … just do it.”

  After Connie left, Jack looked at Laura and said, “You free for a date with me tonight?”

  “Sure. You buying dinner?”

  “Only if you like baking soda.”

  “You’ve piqued my curiosity. Who is this new informant?”

  “Rodine … if he lives.”

  Chapter Twelve

  On Friday morning, the surveillance team watched Rodine make another trip to The Brotherhood apartment. Minutes later, he returned home.

  “Nothing changes,” said Connie.

  “Nice to confirm he has a schedule,” noted Jack. “You’re right, though. No use wasting manpower. Last Friday and Saturday he spent all day at home. Let’s break off the surveillance. I’m sure you have things to do and Laura and I need to do some things.”

  “Things like working on getting an informant?” asked Connie, hopefully.

  “Exactly.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ve got a ton of paperwork and an upcoming trial to prepare for. Call me if you need a hand.”

  Jack and Laura drove away as Connie broke off her surveillance team.

  “Thought you would want to stay around for the action,” said Laura.

  “I want Connie to think we left. She’s too ethical. If the bikers realize they bought baking soda and show up and decide to torture and possibly kill him, I don’t want to take a chance on Connie putting a stop to it.”

  “Good chance they might kill him.”

  “I hope they don’t because we would need to find another informant, but if they do, it seems like a fair punishment for running a meth lab.”

  “I agree, so don’t be hauling out any pictures of Faith in the hospital or something. I couldn’t stand it.”

  “I don’t have any.”

  “Only because you knew I would be on board with this. Rodine’s girlfriend is in there. It could be a double murder. Did you think of that?”

  “She put herself into this. If you fly with the crows —”

  “If they’re both killed, Connie will blame us.”

  “Act surprised … show concern … deny, deny, deny. It was an unfortunate coincidence that we broke off surveillance.”

  “She won’t believe that for a second.”

  “I know, but she won’t be able to prove anything.”

  Minutes later, Jack and Laura returned and parked where they could watch the front of Rodine’s house with binoculars.

  The hours slowly ticked by. Once, Venice, wearing a pink tank top and skin-tight blue jeans over her thin figure, strolled outside and picked some flowers growing near the house and went back inside.

  Late in the afternoon a black SUV arrived and three prospects from Satans Wrath got out and approached the house.

  “Showtime,” said Jack. He was unable to see who answered the door, but he did see one of the bikers deliver a fist to the person’s face before all three disappeared inside.

  “Ouch,” said Laura, watching through her own set of binoculars. “No hello, how are you, nothing …”

  Twenty-five minutes passed before the three bikers left the house and drove away.

  “They left Rodine and Venice in the house,” noted Laura. “Maybe a good sign.”

  “That and they didn’t light the house on fire. I’m betting things went according to plan.”

  Minutes later, the front door opened and Rodine limped out onto the porch landing.

  “Broken nose,” commented Jack, looking at the blood streaming down the front of Rodine’s shirt. “Holding his side … maybe broken or cracked ribs.”

  “Heading for his car,” said Laura.

  “Oh, crap,” interjected Jack sadly, more to himself than Laura.

  “What?”

  “Check the porch … Venice came out … she wants him to stay.”

  Laura focused back on the porch. She saw why Jack was distressed. Venice clutched a bathrobe to her naked body. She had received more than a beating.

  Jack and Laura followed Rodine as he drove back to his lab.

  “Rush order, I bet,” said Laura.

  “Will take a couple of days,” replied Jack. “Starting Sunday we’ll check every night.”

  “We’re taking tomorrow off? I won’t know what to do,” teased Laura.

  “Do you remember Ngoc Bích?”

  “Of course. Your Vietnamese friend. Isn’t the trial coming up soon on the two brothers who owned the brothels?”

  “It got moved to June 15. The same day I’m scheduled to testify in Victoria against Cory McCall.”

  “It will be good to put McCall away. Sounds like you and Ngoc Bích will have something to celebrate that day, as well.”

  “Hope there are no more adjournments with Ngoc Bích.”

  “How has she been doing?”

  “She’s a bit like a wounded bird, but is slowly getting it together. Good days and bad. She’s been enrolled in music lessons since we rescued her. She plays a flute.”

  “Probably therapeutic,” said Laura.

  “Tomorrow she is giving a free performance in Stanley Park at noon.”

  “Elvis and I will be there,” said Laura.

  “Natasha and I were going to bring a picnic lunch.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll give Natasha a call after and we can figure out what to bring.”

  * * *

  The following morning, Jack walked out of the shower and saw Natasha lying naked in bed with a sheet pulled up to the bottom of her navel. She was performing her monthly ritual of doing a self-examination of her breasts as she carefully checked for any lumps.

  “Wish you would teach me how to help you with that,” said Jack, marvelling at how beautiful she looked.

  Natasha looked up at him and said, “I did try to teach you once. As I recall, you became sidetracked.”

  “Sometimes I have a hard time with concentration.”

  Natasha continued her exam, but quit a moment later and said, “Quit staring at me! I can’t concentrate.”

  “I bet you’re remembering the last time I tried to help you,” said Jack, teasingly.

  Natasha paused, furrowing her forehead as if trying to remember, before saying, “That was a long time ago.” She smiled and said seductively, “My memory could use refreshing.”

  Jack felt the blood pulse to his groin. No further invitation was needed.

  * * *

  Later that afternoon, Jack and Natasha and Laura and Elvis sat on a blanket in Stanley Park and listened to Ngoc Bích play her flute.

  “She plays
beautifully,” commented Natasha, sitting with her back pressed up against Jack’s chest.

  Jack wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the back of her neck. The day was captured in his memory as one of the most beautiful he’d ever had.

  When Ngoc Bích was finished, she joined them for the picnic and received a bouquet of red roses as a gift from Jack and Natasha. The afternoon was warm, sunny, and peaceful. Jack was glad that Ngoc Bích did not discuss the upcoming trial scheduled for the following month. Everyone needed the break.

  * * *

  Sunday morning came and Jack read the newspaper. He wished he hadn’t. An article reported a young man being randomly attacked outside a grocery store by four guys who slashed his face with a knife. The attackers were alleged to be high on meth.

  “Something wrong?” asked Natasha. “You’re frowning.”

  Jack sighed and said, “Laura and I hope to turn an informant this week. The guy runs a meth lab. If he co-operates, I’m going to have to allow him to continue running his lab. At least for a while.”

  “For the greater good, I presume. The big picture.”

  Jack smiled, despite how he felt. “You sound like Laura.”

  “Maybe we sound like you.”

  “Maybe,” said Jack, tossing the paper aside.

  “Yesterday was really a perfect day,” said Natasha. “Romantic.”

  Jack smiled. It had been good to see how far Ngoc Bích had recovered from her months of torture. The delay in the trial only gave her time to get stronger. He knew she was looking forward to her day in court and confronting the monsters responsible.

  His thoughts turned to Faith and he knew there was another monster to catch.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kent Rodine’s next batch of methamphetamine was on the drying racks Tuesday night. At seven o’clock Wednesday morning he returned to his lab and used the privacy of the garage to load the kilos of meth into the trunk of his car. As he raised the garage door to leave, a man with a gun shoved him violently against his chest, knocking him back onto the trunk of the car. At the same time, another car pulled in and parked in the driveway.

  Seconds later, Rodine was handcuffed and sprawled over the hood of his car. He watched sullenly as Jack opened the trunk and retrieved one of the kilos. Laura, standing with her pistol pointed at the base of Rodine’s neck, quietly stepped back as Jack approached.