by Don Easton
He stared at her blankly without any sign of emotion.
No anger or surprise? Perhaps the trauma coupled with exhaustion has left him numb. Either that or he knows I’m right and that he should be removed from the investigation entirely.
Chapter Thirty-Three
As Jack and Rose walked back to their offices she looked at him and opened her mouth to say something, then appeared to change her mind and continued on.
“What is it?” he snapped.
Rose gave him a hard look. “I figure I don’t need to tell you that you came off as anything but professional in there.”
“You really think I don’t know that?” he replied harshly. Okay, calm down. “I did apologize,” he added matter-of-factly.
“She’s not a person you give the tone to.”
“The tone?”
“You know exactly what I mean. You have a habit of changing the tone of your voice so that the words you say may not be construed as offensive, but your tone implies sarcasm. She’s not a person you should be messing with like that.”
I know. I was angry. I couldn’t help myself. I’m still angry.
“She means it when she said she’s thinking of taking you off the case. You’ll need to present a different attitude to her on Wednesday.”
That’s if she hasn’t already made up her mind. I was such an ass in there I deserve to be taken off.
“Go home and pull yourself together,” Rose continued, not unkindly. “Get some rest.”
“I’m too upset to go home and sleep.”
“Maybe it’d be a good idea for the both of us to get out of here. Perhaps we could go to a coffee shop? Give you a chance to decompress before going home.”
“Your version of a psychiatrist’s couch?” Jack asked.
Rose shrugged. “If you’re feeling like you need to talk, that’d be fine. If not, that’d be fine, too.”
He gave her a pat on the back as they walked. “Thanks. I know you care, but maybe I should just go home and get some rest. I know I need to calm down and get my act together. I’m going to grab my coat and head home.”
“Okay … good. Stay home tomorrow and I’ll see you Wednesday.”
Jack entered his office and put on his coat — but Rose’s suggestion of a coffee shop played with his memory. Did I miss something at the coffee shop when Graves met Linquist?
He paused at the door, then pulled out his phone and thumbed through the pictures he’d taken that day and studied the photos of the man who’d come out of the coffee shop and used his phone. Another photo showed him being picked up by a woman in a car with a toddler seat in the back. You’re grasping at straws. Go home and get some rest.…
Then another picture caught his eye. It was one he’d taken moments before the man came out of the coffee shop. It was of the car with dealer plates that had circled the block a couple of times. The driver looked to be in his late twenties with a bristle of short blond hair.
Dealer plates? He felt a surge of optimism. Could it be?
He hustled back to his desk and made a call to check the ownership of the dealer plates and discovered they were registered to Johnny’s New and Used Cars. The business was about a twenty-five-minute drive from the coffee shop where Graves met Linquist.
Long way to go for a test drive.…
When he left his office, he glanced down the hall toward Rose’s office. Do I tell her about my suspicions? He stifled a yawn. She’ll say I’m acting in desperation and order me to go home. He gave a snort. Maybe I am.
Forty minutes later he walked into the showroom at Johnny’s. The convertible Corvette Stingray he’d seen in the photograph at Graves’s apartment was not there. What he did see, however, was the same potted plant in front of the same array of windows that were in the photo. He felt the adrenalin pump through his veins. Okay, who are you, you son-of-a-bitch?
A dozen framed photographs of the salespeople adorned one wall. Each person’s name was under the photo and he recognized the person with the bristle of short blond hair as being the driver of the car outside the coffee shop. The name under the photograph identified him as Erich Vath.
Gotcha, asshole!
As he gazed at the photograph his thoughts went to whoever had murdered Ferg. Okay, you bastard, whoever you are, I’ve picked up your scent. The U.S. border be damned. You and I are going to have a face to face!
He brushed off the advances of a different salesman who approached and returned to his car. He then placed a call to the RCMP Telecommunications Centre to check Vath’s name for a driver’s licence and any vehicle registrations. There was only one Erich Vath listed and his address was a basement suite not far from the dealership. A white Hyundai was registered in his name.
Jack’s next call was to Wayne Dawson. By the sound of his groggy hello he knew he’d awakened him.
“It’s Jack Taggart. Sorry to wake you.”
Wayne became instantly alert. “You got something for us off the computer?” he asked excitedly.
“Nothing back on the computer yet. That’ll take a few days, but I do have a possible lead that I’ll follow on this end.”
“A lead! Who?”
“A Canadian by the name of Erich Vath. He did counter-surveillance when Graves was selling guns to someone a couple of weeks ago, but I didn’t find that out until a few minutes ago. I’ve an idea for an undercover approach, but first need to meet with an informant to arrange an introduction. If it works, Vath might introduce me to who his gun supplier is.”
“Undercover?” Wayne paused, then said what was on his mind. “Uh, I expect with what happened that they’ll be pretty damn cautious about meeting anyone new. If you scare Vath away, he may never go to his source.”
“I’m aware of that, but the approach will be through someone Vath will trust completely and who he knows has already bought guns from Graves. If his supplier has shut things down, my plan might not work, but at the same time, it wouldn’t heat anyone up.”
“I see. If Vath already knows him, then there’s nothing to lose by you trying it.”
“Exactly.” Jack waited a beat. “First, though, I need your guarantee that if I do get Vath to lead me to his connection, that he not be arrested, and if need be, my identity and profession also remain a secret.”
“You want to make it look like either you or Vath are informants? Or maybe both?”
“Yes. It would take the heat off the real one.”
“We can work with that,” Wayne said quickly. “We’ll go along with anything if it’ll give us who killed Ferg.”
“Good. It might take a couple of days, but I’ll be in touch.”
“Baby Jesus, if this works … Thanks.”
Jack was about to end the call. There’s one more thing. “I received permission allowing me to enter the States. It came through this morning.”
Wayne was silent for a moment. “The funeral is scheduled for next Monday. Thought you might want to know that,” he added, then terminated the call.
And how welcome would I be at that?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Jack felt the kick from Lance’s boot on the sole of his shoe and opened his eyes. He felt a shiver go through his body and didn’t know if it was because of the cold marble tombstone he’d had his back against or whether it was from a lack of food and sleep.
“Are you dead?” Lance asked. “Should I get a shovel and bury you? Maybe with one of them fancy tombstones you were talking about getting me with the cop crest?”
“I’m alive,” Jack responded, getting to his feet.
“Were you sleeping?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe I was. It’s been a long day.”
Lance glanced at his watch. “It’s only 2:00 p.m.”
“My day started yesterday with the guy you call Zombie. His real name was Derek Graves.”
“Was?” Lance asked.
The surge of adrenalin Jack had felt earlier after discovering Vath had long since vanished. Knowing what he wa
s about to say and ask made talking seem like an effort. Not to mention depressing. “I managed to get a tracker on his truck. He went to the States last night and I had an ATF agent follow him. Both the agent and Graves were murdered less than an hour later in the middle of the street in some little town called Ferndale. At the moment there are no witnesses and no suspects.”
“Holy fuck. So that’s why you look like shit.”
“I feel like shit.”
“You weren’t there when it happened?”
“No, I wasn’t fucking there,” Jack replied angrily.
Lance paused. “I was just asking.”
Jack made a face. “Yeah … I know. Sorry. You rubbed a sore spot.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“It appeared that the agent was making an arrest when someone drove into him from behind. After that he was shot in the face while lying in the middle of the road. Graves’s body was beside his and we think he was killed to stop any chance of the police using him to get to his connection.”
“You want me to put the squeeze on the Death Heads to see if they know anything?”
“No.”
“Good, because doing that would really make me look bad.”
If you think that’s risky, wait until you hear this.…
“Besides,” Lance continued. “I doubt that they’d know anything. From what I was told, they only knew Zombie, and if he’s dead, then —”
“I’m a step ahead of all that. I’ve identified someone who acted as a lookout for Graves when Linquist met him. A fellow by the name of Erich Vath.”
“Okay …” Lance replied, sounding confused. “I’ve never heard of him,” he offered.
“We also learned that the United Front are getting weapons from a robbery in Arkansas that the FBI suspect was done by the same people who did the murders and robbery of the store in Alabama.”
“The one where the FBI is looking for two brothers,” Lance noted.
“Yes.”
Lance eyed him warily. “So why’re you telling me?”
“I want to do an undercover scam. My theory is that Graves was selling weapons to the Death Heads and his buddy Vath was selling to the United Front.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Vath is a car salesman. It’d be easy for me to meet him on the pretext of buying a car and see if I can scam him into selling me a gun, but I don’t think it’d work.”
“I doubt it would either,” Lance replied. “Not after what happened. You being a new face showing up — hell, they’d make you in a second. Not to mention, everyone involved has probably gone to ground. The heat is on, obviously.”
“Exactly.”
Lance looked more agitated. “So?”
“How’d you like to earn your freedom?” Jack asked.
Lance gave a snort. “I take it that question isn’t rhetorical, so what do you have in mind?”
“I need to bait the trap and spark their greed.”
“It would take a lot of bait after what happened last night.”
“You’re right … it will. Forget about buying a couple of guns. I’m going to ask for five hundred.”
“Five hundred! What the fuck? If you came askin’ for my advice, I’m tellin’ ya, that’s way over the top.” He shook his head in admonishment. “What are you going to say? Tell them you’re purchasing them for some army in South America? They’ll never believe —”
“They will if I’m introduced to them by somebody they’d trust as genuine. Someone who is an executive officer in a crime family that has that many members and associates in Canada alone.”
Lance looked taken back. “Fuck, you want me to introduce you to him?”
“That’s my plan.”
Lance took a deep breath, then let out a low whistle. “Sure, I want to get you off my back and earn my freedom — but not if I end up here,” he said, gesturing to a tombstone.
Jack grimaced. “Hear me out first. I won’t push you into this if you don’t want to do it. Believe me, I’m already worried that you’ll agree to do something you shouldn’t. I want you to think long and hard about the potential consequences of what I’m about to suggest.”
“Meeting in this place, I’d have to be pretty fuckin’ stupid not to realize the consequences,” Lance said dryly.
Jack glanced around at the cemetery then turned back to Lance. “I’ve got a couple of thoughts, but I’m so bloody tired I feel like my brain is in a fog. If what I suggest doesn’t make sense or feel right to you, I wouldn’t be totally surprised and we’ll drop the idea.”
“All right. Let’s hear it.”
“What if you introduced me to Vath and I convince him to introduce me to his connection in the States? I’d then meet the connection, maybe set up the purchase, and then I’d leave. The U.S. would then arrest whoever the connection is, and with luck, seize the weapons. I’ve already got the U.S. to promise they’d never identify me in court. It’d make it look like I was the informant.”
“Uh, uh. That wouldn’t work because it would’ve been me who vouched for you. When word got out what happened, it wouldn’t take my guys long to figure it out, especially when you weren’t even known to them … or at least whatever name you used wouldn’t be known to them. Not to mention, if they did find out it was actually you, I’d be dead. Maybe someone in my family, too.”
Jack sighed. “I wondered what the ramifications would be for you vouching for someone that supposedly turned out to be an informant, but thought I’d ask. As I said, my brain is in a fog, but what you said makes sense. Particularly the last bit.”
“It’d be the same thing if you tried to make Vath look like the informant when it came out that the weapons were for Satans Wrath. Even if you remained anonymous, once it was discovered that it was me who introduced you to do the deal, everyone in our club would wonder who the hell you were. Same thing if we left you out of the scenario and I placed the order myself so you could follow him. There’s no way our club needs five hundred pieces at the moment. Even if we did, we’d go through our chapters in the States.”
“Yeah, that figures.”
“Plus, I’m a president,” Lance noted. “If we ever did contact Vath, we’d send a prospect or someone other than exec level. It sure as hell wouldn’t be me talking to him.”
“Okay, okay,” Jack said. “I still have one last plan to run past you.”
Lance looked skeptical.
“What if you introduce me to Vath in a way you could deny having introduced me later on?”
“What are you thinking?”
“As long as I was never identified in the U.S., and neither Vath nor I were arrested, it might make it look like we were both informants to whoever was busted in the States. Vath wouldn’t know what to think. Maybe he’d think I was the informant, but if he said anything, you’d have the option of saying he was the informant and denying ever having introduced him to me.”
Lance stared at the ground while running his tongue along the inside of his upper lip as he thought.
“In the end, your word would be believed over his,” Jack prodded. “If he’d half a brain, he’d know that.” He paused as he eyed Lance, then added, “Not to mention, it’d probably get him killed if he accused you of setting him up.”
Lance raised an eyebrow. “Probably get him killed?” he questioned.
Yeah, I’m tired. Guess there’d be no doubt.
Lance stared silently at Jack for a moment. “The thing is, if he did say something, trying to squelch what he said later would be like trying to put the toothpaste back in the tube. Yes, my word would initially be believed over his. At least officially it would, but unofficially there’d be suspicion. Particularly if Whiskey Jake discovers that the lawyer’s files from Mexico on our money laundering scam have disappeared. He might put two and two together and clue in that you have them and used them to turn me.”
“Meaning there’d still be an element of risk,” Jack stated.
Lance gave him a hard look. “It’s an element of risk I’d deal with — if you’re telling me that you and I would then be finished, that I’d be free to go on with my life without having you hanging off my back.”
Jack swallowed as he thought about what he was asking. Is my logic blinded by my need to catch Ferg’s killer? Ferg had a wife, children, and grandchildren. Lance has a wife, children, and a grandchild. Is it right to have him risk his life, too? He studied Lance’s face. No longer friendly and easy-going like he was a moment ago. Dangerous … his eyes calculating … yeah, he’ll do what it takes to survive, but that in itself raises a question. Is it right?
Lance raised an eyebrow. “So? Is it a deal?”
There are grey areas and there are black. This is definitely black.
Jack stuck out his hand. “Yeah, it’s a deal. You’ll be able to take your money and retire for all I care — providing whoever it was who did the murders last night is caught.”
Lance engulfed Jack’s hand like it was a child’s, gripping it tight and giving a solitary shake. “Good,” he said, before letting go.
“Yeah, good,” Jack replied.
Lance looked at Jack curiously. “Now, my worry is that part of the plan will hinge on whatever string of shit you’re going to tell Vath to bait the trap.”
“I’m confident I can pull that off.”
Lance seemed surprised. “Are you?”
“Graves was a racist. I’m betting his buddy Vath is, too. Birds of a feather type of thing.”
“How does that help?”
“Racists are gullible when it comes to believing things that aren’t true as long as it fits into what they want to believe. Couple that with greed, and I’m sure I’ll achieve the results I want.”
Lance stroked his chin and stared at a tombstone. Then he looked at Jack. “How do you want to go about it? For me to introduce you without my guys knowing about it, yet still seem believable to Vath? It might not be easy. Especially when I’ve never even heard of him and I doubt any of my guys have.”
“I’ve got an idea for that,” Jack said.
“I expected you would,” Lance replied sardonically.