by Don Easton
“Good.”
“Yeah, good,” he said, once more staring blankly at the news.
Natasha knew the ritual. She did the same thing after a day that was particularly tough. Jack needed to give his brain a rest. She had something she had been holding back from telling him. She decided she couldn’t wait any longer.
As the news ended, Nastasha brought Jack a martini and sat beside him.
“Hey, this is unexpected,” he said, “where’s yours?”
“There is something I have to tell you,” replied Natasha. “Something I’ve known for a little while. I was going to wait until your investigation was over, but I can’t keep this from you any longer.”
“Is everything okay?”
“How is your martini?” she asked.
Jack took a sip and said, “Fine. Aren’t you going to have one?”
“No,” replied Natasha, before smiling. “That’s what I have to tell you. No drinking for me for a while. At least, not for another six months or so.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
It was eleven o’clock at night when Damien turned off the news and buzzed his electronic gate to let Pussy Paul inside. Moments later, the two men went for a walk outside.
“Our Horseman narc got a call this afternoon,” said Pussy Paul. “He’s being transferred back to uniform. They told him it was time to circulate some people out of some small detachment up north.”
“Too bad, that’s the trouble with the RCMP. They keep transferring people. Makes it hard to develop permanent rats. This guy’s father is a Member of Parliament, I was hoping we could eventually get him to co-operate with us in exchange for saving his son.”
“I know. Even more disturbing is our narc thinks the transfer is a bit sudden and premature. He says other guys have been in the unit longer than he has.”
“Interesting,” replied Damien. “Has he done anything for us recently?”
“Yeah, he checked out a couple of people for us. Some guy by the name of Jay, along with his girlfriend. Jay is rumoured to be part of the Irish mafia from back east. They moved here recently.”
“Where do they fit in?” asked Damien.
“Jay’s cousin is a cook who works under Sy and he introduced the two of them. Jay and Sy are doing business together. They were with Sy this morning when Fateh showed up. It was Jay who convinced Hamburger to send the text. Hamburger relayed to Whiskey Jake, who decided to put a stop to Fateh’s plan.”
“I haven’t spoken to Whiskey Jake about that yet, but I’m glad he put a stop to it,” replied Damien.
“Because we might be starting a war with the Irish?”
“Fuck the Irish. No, it’s the heat I’m trying to avoid. The Brotherhood has the attention of the police now, but it would be nothing compared to what they would have if they opened up with a 50 calibre. The city would panic. There isn’t a politician around who wouldn’t jump on the bandwagon to demand more police and resources to keep the city safe.”
“Gotcha. Well, maybe it’s a coincidence about the narc being transferred, but I thought I should tell you,” said Pussy Paul.
“I’m glad you did. I don’t believe in coincidences. Hasn’t Sy suffered some serious losses in the last couple of weeks? Some of his guys busted with guns?”
“Yeah, but Sy figured he took care of that. Two of his guys named Roach and Bagger.”
“Maybe he took care of it and maybe he didn’t,” replied Damien.
“You think Jay is a rat?”
“Or a cop … possible …”
“Balvinder’s guys tried to do them all last Saturday when they left a party. That was the deal on the news.”
“I spoke to Lance and Whiskey Jake about it,” said Damien.
“I know. Lance filled me in on your meeting. The thing is, there haven’t been any arrests over the car chase and shootings. Also none today after Fateh showed up and donated the 50 calibre to us.”
“You would think there would be if Jay was a cop. Still, who knows, it’s possible he’s a rat.”
“Want him taken out?” asked Pussy Paul.
“I heard that Rashard is hooking up with Balvinder, Fateh, and Quang.”
“Yeah, I think he heard about the 50 cal and figured he would go with whoever had access to the biggest guns. Of course, that was before we took it.”
“Sy’s gang has had some serious problems lately,” noted Damien. “He, Mongo, and Munch will lose the war for sure. With all this bullshit that’s taking place, it’s not worth jeopardizing Cocktail to let it continue.”
“Time to eliminate the weak?”
Damien looked thoughtfully at Pussy Paul and said, “Yes, time to protect our assets. Have the three losers taken care of. If Jay tags along with Sy, do him, too.”
“When?”
“Tell Cocktail to arrange it before the week is over. Tell the losers we will broker a truce talk between all the bosses of both sides. Tell them everyone will be searched and that no guns or phones will be allowed and that they will be blindfolded. If Jay is a rat, it will make us sound like good guys for trying to stop the violence. Have Cocktail set up the ambush using Balvinder, Fateh, Quang, and Rashard to carry it out.”
“You want them all involved?” asked Pussy Paul.
“Yes. Tell Cocktail we will supply him with a couple of guys to help with the initial search of Sy, Munch, and Mongo, but after that, the killing will be done by the new Brotherhood. Don’t lend Cocktail any of our prospects for the search. I want our hands to look clean if something goes sideways. Use some wannabe bikers. Someone expendable.”
“Why use four bosses to carry it out? I’m sure any one of the gangs are capable of looking after three or four unarmed guys.”
“I want the remaining four bosses from The Brotherhood in on it together. Make sure all their hands are dirty. No loose ends to ever rat out. Once Sy and his buddies are taken care of, bury the bodies and tell everyone to keep mum about it.”
* * *
Jack put his martini glass down on the table. “Are you sure?”
Natasha smiled. “If I’m not, I shouldn’t be practising medicine.”
“I’m going to be a dad!”
“I’m eleven weeks along. I’d like to wait another week or two before telling anyone.”
Jack held both of Natasha’s hands in his as he gazed at her, before his eyes watered and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
Incredible, unbelievable … I’m going to be a dad!
When he stopped kissing Natasha he leaned back as his BlackBerry vibrated. It was Gabriel. Jack answered automatically, but his thoughts were with Natasha.
“I did it,” Gabriel whispered. “I searched his room tonight when he was watching television. You were right that I should have.”
Jack felt his heart sink. Gabriel did not need the extra stress.
“Marijuana?” asked Jack.
“No. Smut. Filthy smut.”
“Smut?”
“Magazines. They were under his mattress. Playboy … something called Hustler.”
Jack was glad that Gabriel couldn’t see him smile.
“What should I do? Maybe confront him,” said Gabriel as her initial shock turned to anger.
“Uh, I wouldn’t get too upset,” said Jack. “Your son has reached puberty. It is perfectly normal.”
“Normal! These magazines are not normal. Where could he have gotten them from? They’re lurid, un-Christian, disgusting —”
“Explains why he has been staring off into space,” said Jack. “He’s thinking about girls. It is a phase that most young men go through. Be happy that there was no sign of drugs. What Noah is going through is life. His blank stares … give him time. He’ll mature and snap out of it.”
“Do you think so?”
“Yes. I would leave him be for now.”
* * *
Jack was wrong. Noah would never snap out of it for as long as he lived.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Three days later, Cocktail rented a room at the Best Western in Richmond and waited as Satans Wrath prospects eventually delivered Balvinder, Fateh, Quang, and Rashard to his room.
“Gentlemen,” said Cocktail. “I have some good news. As you all know, Satans Wrath are upset that the war is dragging out.”
“Who needs them,” said Fateh. “You’re the guy with the chemicals. Deal straight to us.”
“That isn’t going to happen. What you are suggesting is that I become their competition. I think we all know what happens to their competition … or were you hoping to take out a life insurance policy on me?”
A few in the room chuckled. Cocktail smiled and thought, Sounds better than saying you four are a bunch of uneducated yahoos. I need Satans Wrath to protect me from degenerates like yourselves.
“So what is the good news?” asked Rashard.
“The good news, especially for you,” replied Cocktail, “is that Satans Wrath believe that the four of you should be the only ones in charge of The Brotherhood and they are willing to help. Which is where I come in.”
“They’re going to help us?” said Fateh. “Does this mean they’re gonna give Big Bertha back to me? Or do they plan on killin’ the fuckers for us?”
“There is one small test that the four of you have to complete. For you, I am sure it is not a big deal.”
“And that is?” asked Balvinder.
“I will arrange for Sy, Mongo, and Munch to go to a place that I choose. None of them will be armed or have any contact with anyone. In fact, we might even blindfold them. When they arrive, they will be tied up and interviewed in regard to their personal assets, such as where they hide their money. The four of you are then to ensure that they are never found again.”
“How will you get them to go along with this?” asked Quang.
“I will tell them that Satans Wrath is brokering a truce. That everyone will be taken to a secret location to start the negotiations. I will say that everyone will be searched and that guns and cellphones will not be allowed to ensure everyone’s safety. I’ll tell them that Satans Wrath will be doing extensive counter-surveillance to make sure nobody decides to try and follow.”
“The bikers will do that for us?” asked Balvinder.
“No. As I said, this is a test of leadership for the four of you. The bikers want to see how you handle it. It should be relatively easy because Sy and his associates will believe the bikers are protecting them.”
“They could still be there,” said Balvinder. “It would be good to have them around for security in case someone tries to escape or somethin’.”
“Quite frankly I believe it is because you have not proven yourself to them yet that they won’t be there,” replied Cocktail. “They don’t trust you enough. This task will not only change that, but it will result in a lot more profit for you in the future.”
“How do we know that we can trust the bikers … or you,” said Quang. “Maybe you’re telling the same bullshit to Sy and the rest of ’em.”
Cocktail sighed and slowly shook his head like an adult about to admonish a child. “To start with, you will all be armed,” said Cocktail. “As far as the location goes, I was thinking that the farm out in Mt. Lehman would be good. Your brother still has the lab there, does he not?”
Quang nodded and said, “It’s my farm, too. I’m looking after the lab while my brother is away.”
“It is only an hour drive out of the city,” continued Cocktail, “yet isolated enough that we won’t be bothered by anyone when we find out where they hide their money. As I recall, you have the equipment there to dig a deep hole.”
“I have a backhoe.”
“Good. I would suggest you get busy digging a pit. Today is Friday. I would like to be cracking the champagne open this Sunday night over their grave.”
“Who gets their money?” asked Balvinder. “Us or the bikers?”
“The five of us get it. Consider it a reward for what we must do.”
“Sounds perfect,” said Quang. “Cut off the heads of the snakes and the rest of the bodies will wither and disappear.”
* * *
The following day, Cocktail had a meeting with Sy, Mongo, and Munch. They were told that Satans Wrath wanted to broker a truce and that a meeting was being arranged for the next night.
“Only I will know the location,” said Cocktail. “I’ll give you a place to meet me first. After that, no guns and no phones. You’ll be driven to a safe location to talk. Same thing for the guys on the other side. They’ll be met, searched, and driven, as well. Everyone will be blindfolded. We don’t expect the first meeting to resolve everything, but the negotiations will be conducted in a proper and civilized fashion. Anyone even thinking of causing violence will have to deal with Satans Wrath.”
“The other side might not go for it,” said Sy. “I heard Rashard has joined up with them. They may think they can get everything and us nothin’.”
“The bikers won’t put up with any more bullshit,” said Cocktail. “They want the territory divided fairly. They’re not going to sit back any longer and watch things shuffle back and forth as the bullets fly.”
“But there are four of them and only three of us,” said Mongo. “They’ll still demand more of the action than they should get.”
“I’ve got someone who could help all of us in that regard,” said Sy. “My friend Jay.”
“We don’t need no more bosses to be making our share even smaller,” said Mongo.
“You’ve met him,” replied Sy. “Remember what he said in your office that night when I brought him and his girlfriend to your pizza place? He doesn’t want to be a boss. The guy wants to be independent.”
“If that is the case, why would he come to the negotiations?” asked Munch.
“Because he’s in a business where the more contacts you have, the better. He could help us by strengthening what we say is our territory and we could help him unload some merchandise sometime.”
Cocktail thought about it. Four killers and four victims. Everyone will get a chance to prove themselves. He smiled at Sy and said, “I don’t see a problem. Bring him along. I look forward to meeting him.”
Chapter Forty
Late Saturday afternoon, Jack listened intently as he walked down the apartment hallway with Sy and heard about Satans Wrath’s plan to broker a truce.
“Cocktail told me about it an hour ago,” continued Sy. “I trust him. He favours me over the others and nobody is gonna fuck with Satans Wrath, so safety isn’t an issue.”
“How long have you known Cocktail?” asked Jack.
“Met him a couple years back through the bikers. Don’t even know where he lives, let along his real name, but I can tell ya, the dude is smart. We’ve come a long way since he came on the scene. We’re making the best shit in Canada. Maybe even the world. The big problem is this fuckin’ war. Once it is over, we sit back, relax, and rake in the dough.”
“Hope it works out for you. Cocktail sounds like a guy I should meet sometime. Sammy should have his first batch done in a few days. He’s using my contacts to ship some of it back east. Maybe we could get more people and expand operations there, as well.”
“Fuck, am I glad to hear you say that.”
“Why?”
“Tomorrow night you got your chance to meet him.”
Jack could barely contain his excitement. “Oh?” he said, as casually as he could sound.
“At the truce meeting. I asked him and he said to bring you along. With your contacts, I figure you can help me, Mongo, and Munch when it comes to saying who has control of what territory. It will work out for the benefit of all of us.”
“Maybe I could go with you,” replied Jack, trying to sound like he wasn’t sure whether or not he should. “I would like to talk to Cocktail about the possibility of starting other labs in other provinces. I don’t want Mongo and Munch knowing the details as it doesn’t concern them.”
“I’m sure you can talk to him aft
er the meeting. I told him a bit about you. He said he was looking forward to meeting you.”
“Okay … sure, I’ll go along with you.”
“Good. Be here at eight o’clock tomorrow night. No guns and no phones. Satans Wrath will make us all dance through the ropes to make sure nobody is planning anything stupid.”
* * *
It was early evening when Jack and Laura walked into Connie’s office. Sammy and Dallas were waiting when they arrived.
“Sorry we’re running late,” said Jack. “Saturday shoppers. Traffic is bad.”
“Your message said it was important,” replied Connie, harshly.
“Yes. Everything okay, Connie?” asked Jack. “Haven’t spoken to you since Tuesday.”
“And you know damn well why!”
“I’m sorry, I don’t. Have I offended you somehow?”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” replied Connie. “Last Tuesday was when Lorraine Calder accidentally overdosed.
“Yes?” replied Jack, furrowing his eyebrows.
“I was angry then. How do you think I felt later when I found out that Roach and Bagger accidentally died of carbon monoxide poisoning the morning before? That was the same morning I suggested we do surveillance of them and you said not to bother, that they were just low-level punks and that it would be a waste of time.”
“Don’t you think doing surveillance of dead bodies would be a waste of time?” replied Jack. “It’s not like they would be doing much.”
“Don’t you get that tone with me! This … this … I’ve got nothing to say to you!” she said, folding her arms across her chest.
“Connie, I’m sorry,” replied Jack glumly. “I was trying to be funny. Guess it didn’t come across that way. It seems to me that every time a bad guy dies, you feel like I had something to do with it. You said yourself the deaths were accidental. Maybe it is time you had faith in the investigators that they know what they’re doing.”
Connie stared as Laura gave Jack a sympathy pat on his back while he looked mournfully around the room. His big blue eyes … he does look innocent. Am I wrong? Have I become that cynical and suspicious?