Dead Ends

by Don Easton

  “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear your voice. Something came over the lines. A young woman tipped off Balvinder’s people that you, Laura, and Sy were leaving to do a dope deal this morning. She even gave them a map of where you were going. They’re going to try and take you all out with a 50 calibre.”

  “We don’t have to worry about that,” said Jack. “That is already taken care of.”

  “That?” said Sammy. “Don’t tell me you’ve got another problem.”

  “We certainly do,” replied Jack.

  “What else is going on? Can you give me a hint?” asked Sammy.

  “Canada Day?” said Jack. “Not much. You planning a party?”

  “Canada Day?” replied Sammy. “I don’t get it.”

  “Sure, a party will be fun … You got what … fireworks … those really big ones? Sounds like a blast. Be careful nobody is drunk or stoned. Make sure someone is around who knows how to handle the stuff.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yup. See you in about an hour.”

  “What the hell was that all about?” asked Connie as soon as Sammy hung up.

  “Don’t know what happened with Big Bertha, but somehow it has been taken care of.”

  “Oh, great,” muttered Connie. “That will probably mean there are more bodies someplace. What is all this about Canada Day?”

  “Call bomb disposal and have them standing by.”

  “Bomb disposal! Oh, mother of Jesus!”

  * * *

  When Jack hung up, Sy looked at him and said, “This is embarrassing. I’m shakin’ like a leaf. You two … even you, Princess … no offence, but you act like it was no big deal.”

  “I did find it disconcerting,” said Laura.

  “Disconcerting! I was scared shitless! Did you see the size of that bazooka? One bullet would take your whole head off!”

  “Doesn’t help to dwell on it,” said Jack. “Learn from the past, but think about the future.”

  “I am thinking about the future,” said Sy. “I gotta tell ya, I don’t know how much longer I can handle this shit. I’ve never been shot at or threatened like this before in my life until I met you.”

  He’s got a point there, thought Laura.

  “My nerves are shot,” continued Sy. “I’ve been thinking of moving back to Ontario. Maybe get back in with my ex and our little girl.”

  “You’re a dad?” asked Jack.

  “Yeah. Got a six-year-old. Haven’t seen her in four years.” Sy strained to looked back and forth in the side mirrors and said, “You making sure we’re not being tailed? They never took Fateh’s phones.”

  “I’m making sure,” replied Jack. “But speaking of that, what do you intend to do about Lorraine?”

  “Stop at the first pay phone we come to. I’m gonna call Brewski. It’s his slut. He can take responsibility.”

  “You can’t talk over a phone,” warned Jack.

  “No worries. We have a system. I text him on my BlackBerry and tell him to pick me up a coffee and a doughnut. I give him ten minutes to go down the block to a coffee shop and I call him there.”

  Minutes later, Sy spotted a pay phone and Jack pulled over and parked. As soon as Sy left to use the phone, Jack turned to Laura and said, “Sammy and Connie already know about the ambush.”

  “How?”

  “It came over the lines. Lorraine called someone to pass on the info. Connie and Sammy haven’t identified her yet, but Sammy called to warn us.”

  “They’ll want us to hear the voice. What do we do?”

  “We can’t tell Connie about what we did …” Jack glanced out the window at Sy and added, “Or what we are doing.”

  “She’d have us up on conspiracy to murder,” replied Laura.

  “It will also be hard to say that we don’t know her voice.”

  “So what do we do?”

  “Hope Sy works fast,” said Jack. “Wait while I go check with him.”

  Sy called the coffee shop and was telling Brewski what happened when Jack walked up to him.

  “When and how do you plan on doing it?” asked Jack, interrupting Sy’s conversation.

  “The fuckin’ devil bitch is at Brewski’s place,” said Sy. “He wants to take her out to where we were. Says he’ll slash her up about a thousand times, then gut her with a knife and let her crawl around in the dirt until she dies.”

  “Bad idea,” whispered Jack. “That will bring the cops down on everyone. They know she is Brewski’s girlfriend. If they end up getting him on the murder beef, he’s liable to turn on you to try and get a reduced sentence.”

  “She’s gotta die! She’s gonna pay for what she tried to do to us!”

  “To start with, I bet it was Brewski who got her hooked and mainlining coke,” said Jack.

  “So what? Who cares about that?”

  “You and he both should. You can’t trust an addict. For a free fix, they would turn in their own mother, which is likely how Fateh got to her.”

  “You think we should wait?”

  “Waiting is too dangerous. Lorraine might try it again. You need to act immediately.”

  “So what the fuck are you saying we should do?”

  “No torture. Nothing to draw heat. Let her kill herself.”

  “How?”

  “Give her something she will take and overdose and drop her somewhere. Make sure none of your guys are even around when she does it.”

  Sy thought for a moment and nodded in agreement.

  “Princess and I won’t be coming around until we know it’s done and things are safe.”

  “I’ll tell Brewski to do it right away.”

  “Send me a text message on my BlackBerry. Punch in the numbers 6660 and I’ll know the job is done.”

  “Six, six, six … sign of the devil,” said Sy. “What’s the zero for?”

  “The devil is in the hole.”

  “Cool.”

  “This whole situation isn’t at all cool,” replied Jack.

  “Yeah, I know. I fucked up.”

  “One more thing …” said Jack, pausing to lock eyes, “don’t you or Brewski tell a soul about Lorraine, got it?” he said, while jabbing his finger into Sy’s chest.

  Sy nodded sombrely.

  * * *

  Forty minutes later, Jack introduced Sy to Sammy.

  “You took longer than you figured,” said Sammy. “Any problems?”

  “Some of the competition were around,” replied Jack, “but they chatted with the bikers and left. No big deal.”

  Sammy saw Sy’s mouth gape open at Jack’s comment, followed by a look of awe as Sy stared at Jack. Sammy smiled to himself. Well, you’ve got his respect, Jack. Reeled him in, hook, line, and sinker.

  Sammy gave everyone a quick tour of the farmhouse and Sy appeared satisfied with an inner room where Sammy had installed shelving units and table.

  “Got a good lock on the door, too,” said Sammy, “in case someone comes by.”

  “We get a percentage of everything you make,” said Sy. “Jay said you are planning on shipping it back east. What doesn’t go back east goes to us. Understood? No side deals with anyone around here.”

  “I understand,” replied Sammy. “Who do I contact for dropping off the product and ordering more chemicals?”

  “Me. That’s what the bikers want.” Sy smiled and gave Sammy a slap on the back. “Really glad to meet you. Any friend of Jay is a friend of mine. Now, let me show you how to set a lab up like a professional. Even comes with a booby trap.”

  “Wonderful,” said Sammy lamely.

  Over the next several hours, Jack and Laura watched as Sy gave Sammy an in-depth course, complete with instructions on how to run a meth lab. He also screwed a small metal lever inside the door at the top. A wire ran past the lever through small eyehole screws over to a large glass carboy set on a shelf on the opposite side of the room. A rubber bung plugged the hole at the top of the carboy. The bung had been punctured with a grouping o
f small nails so that the spikes from the nails hung down inside the carboy. Sy threaded the wire through the small hole in the bung and let it dangle inside the carboy.

  “We tie a small glass vial to the end of the wire in the carboy,” said Sy. “If someone comes in and doesn’t lower the lever above the door, it will yank the glass vial up where it will shatter against the nails. The stuff in the vial falls in the carboy and … ka-boom!” he yelled.

  “Is this really necessary?” asked Jack.

  Sy shrugged and said, “The fuckin’ fireball will wipe out everything. No DNA, no fingerprints … not nothin’. This is how Cocktail said to do things and the bikers say so, too. Anybody comes in that ain’t supposed to … well, there won’t be anything left of ’em but ashes.”

  “Sounds like Cocktail and the bikers are protecting themselves more than the one doing the cooking.”

  “Gotta play by their rules,” said Sy. “Sometimes the bikers are waiting when you arrive. If it ain’t hooked up right, you’re in for a hell of a beating. Besides, it’s easy to do. There is enough give in the line to open the door a little. If the lever is up, then the top of the lever is behind the line and the bomb is activated. All you gotta do is flick the lever down when you enter and back up when you leave.”

  “Hope I don’t forget,” noted Sammy.

  Sy chuckled and said, “Everybody says that. If I thought you would forget, I’d have asked you to pay the money up front.”

  Sammy’s face paled as he studied the apparatus.

  “Don’t worry,” said Sy. “You won’t forget after what I show you next. Let’s go outside around back.” He glanced at Laura and said, “This is guy stuff. Might be better if you wait in the van.”

  Laura did as suggested while Sy retrieved the plywood box containing Harry the Hamster, before going behind the house with Jack and Sammy.

  Sammy set the box on the ground and took the lid off.

  Jack saw the hamster sit back on its hind legs as it peered up at them. The box had a small glass bottle containing a liquid in one corner of the box. Sy took the lid off the bottle and picked up a plastic straw and an eyedropper.

  “Watch this,” said Sy. He took a pill bottle containing a clear liquid from his pocket and removed a couple of drops with the eyedropper. “Don’t bend over too close,” he cautioned, before using the eyedropper to place a few drops in the end of the straw and tip it so the drops ran down the straw and into the bottle inside the box.

  Immediately a small explosion ignited an inferno inside the box. Harry the Hamster instantly became a squealing ball of flame and bashed and clawed against the side of the box for a moment before succumbing.

  “They always panic and keep running into the wall,” said Sy. “Haven’t had one jump out of the box yet.”

  Jack and Sammy traded grim glances over the odour of burned hair and charred flesh.

  “Awful, ain’t it?” said Sy. “I almost puked the first time Cocktail showed me, but as he says, you won’t forget to disarm the door. He also said to put a picture of a hamster on the door to remind you each time you enter.”

  Jack and Sammy knew a picture would not be necessary. Neither man would ever forget.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Jack and Laura drove Sy back to his apartment and waited in the underground parking lot while Sy went up to speak with Brewski. When Sy returned, he said, “Brewski gave her some stuff and dropped her off at her parents’ place about two hours ago.”

  Jack nodded silently.

  “He said she had asked where we were. He said he didn’t know and was worried because we should have been back. The little bitch pretended to worry, but it was all an act. Her mom and dad get home from work in another hour. I’m guessing she took it right away so they won’t see that she’s stoned. I’m sure she’s a goner.”

  “I want it confirmed.”

  “Will do. What are you up to?”

  “Got some more business to take care of. Merchandise that needs moving. Call me when you know.”

  “Six, six, six, the devil’s in the hole.”

  As soon as Jack and Laura were alone, Jack called Connie and told her what had happened, except for anything to do with Lorraine or that they knew it was her who told.

  “Get back here, pronto,” said Connie. “We need to find out who tried to set you up. I’m sure you’ll recognize her voice. She’s someone who knows you both. Sounds young.”

  “What do we say to Connie?” asked Laura, while returning to the office.

  “Stall until we know Lorraine has been taken care of.”

  “What if she doesn’t OD? Maybe someone finds her in time?”

  “Then we have to stall. Try and talk Connie out of doing anything that would heat us up until we know she’s dead.”

  Laura nodded and was quiet. As Jack was driving, he saw that she was trembling and there were tears in her eyes.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t know where to start,” she replied. “Everything that happened today. Even the thing with the hamster. How can someone be so cruel? Why do people act the way they do?”

  “Abusing pets … lighting fires … violence … classic symptoms of sexual abuse. Maybe Cocktail has some real demons lurking inside,” suggested Jack.

  “And what about all the other stuff he’s responsible for? Gabriel’s little girl with cancer. Setting up labs everywhere and putting bozos in charge of them. Sending kids to rape and mutilate Amanda Flowers.” She looked at Jack for a response, but he remained quiet so she added, “I don’t know who to hate more, Cocktail or Sy.”

  “Sy is a moron,” replied Jack. “He does whatever Cocktail says. Regardless, you have to face the facts. Even if we could prove Cocktail is behind all the labs, he wouldn’t get as much time as he would for murdering a priest. That has to be where our priority lies.”

  “Yeah, and how much time will that be? It wasn’t premeditated, so what? Fifteen years max with parole in ten? You think that is enough? Will Gabriel’s kid even be alive in ten years? Think Amanda will ever forget?”

  They stopped talking as Jack sat waiting for a traffic light. Jack stared at Laura for a moment before responding. “Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself of something. Why don’t you talk about what is really bothering you?”

  Laura looked at Jack, took a couple of halting, deep breaths and said, “She’s only sixteen. I know she tried to kill us, but … but I’m not sure what we’re doing is right.”

  “I don’t think there is a right thing. I try to look at it like destroying a rabid dog.”

  “She’s not a dog. She’s a human. Someone’s sixteen-year-old daughter.”

  “Imagine a sixteen-year-old in a clock tower with a rifle killing people. Imagine you’re a police sniper. Do you wait and hope the kid runs out of ammo? Somewhere along the way something went terribly wrong with this kid. Maybe she was born a psychopath … who knows. She may not have a rifle, but she’s just as deadly.”

  “It would be easier if she were older,” replied Laura quietly.

  “Compared to most other sixteen-year-olds, I would say she is a hell of a lot older.”

  “I know, but where does it end? Where do we draw the line?”

  “I don’t know. We have to decide in each given situation. You and I see and know things the rest of the world doesn’t. We need to survive and protect the people who work for us. To me, morality is a big issue and the more I do this job, the more I think morality and the law are polarized opposites.”

  “We were sworn to uphold the law.”

  “What about justice? I try to balance all three. Morality, the law, and justice. Sometimes it doesn’t work, but I try to do what I think is right.”

  “It scares me.”

  “It scares me, too. It would be easier if twelve informed people could think about it for as long as was needed. That is what the law intended. We don’t have that luxury. What we are doing now seems wrong. If she were to live
and kill someone else, that would be wrong, too. Somehow we have to live with what we decide.”

  * * *

  Jack buzzed the security button to allow them access to the monitor’s main office and hallway leading to the monitoring rooms.

  The door opened and Connie said, “There you two are. We were about to send out a search party. You both know Dallas, don’t you?”

  Jack and Laura nodded. They knew Dallas was one of Connie’s partners and a blood-splatter expert.

  “Hi, Jack,” said Dallas. “It’s been a while. Last time I saw you was behind that woman’s house where the priest got slaughtered. Remember?”

  “Remember? I wish I could forget. I still dream about the blood. Doesn’t it bother you?”

  “Not really,” replied Dallas, “but I don’t deal with the people end of things. I do my analysis and split.”

  “And your analysis of this perp?” asked Laura.

  “Prone to violent rage. Probably had a pretty bad childhood.” He looked at Jack, chuckled and added, “He’s not afraid of blood, that’s for sure. Not to mention what he did after —”

  “Can it, Dallas!” said Connie sharply. She turned to Jack and Laura and in an apologetic voice said, “Sorry, there’s hold-back information I don’t want out. All you need to know is that ‘prone to violence’ is an understatement.”

  “Not a problem,” said Jack. He knew that most homicide investigators kept information back. It made damning evidence in court if the accused admitted to something that only the killer knew about.

  “Enough chit-chat,” said Connie. “I want you to listen to this girl’s voice and — Christ, you stink, Jack. Smell like burned hair. Anyway, come in and join the party. Third room down the hall. You said on the phone that all went well with Sammy and Sy?”

  “Sammy is a good operator,” replied Jack. “Sy trusts him.”

  “Good. Bomb disposal called a few minutes ago. They’ve neutralized the bomb. I don’t know what it was made of.”

  “Some of it was ether,” replied Jack. “Highly flammable. I don’t know what the other ingredients were.”

  “The lab will tell us,” replied Connie. “In the meantime they’ve put something else in the carboy to smell and look real.”