An Element of Risk

by Don Easton

  “My idea will also plant a seed amongst your guys that Vath is an informant. It’ll help if they ever do get wind of it later on.”

  Lance gave a begrudging smile. “You really do cover all the bases.”

  Jack scowled. I didn’t last night.…

  Lance was quick to read Jack’s face. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” he replied automatically. He then locked eyes. “I’ll have your back on this right to the end,” he said solemnly. “That I promise.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  As he left the cemetery, Lance called André Gagnon, who was the vice-president of his chapter, and said, “I got a call at my amusement centre from some guy by the name of Erich Vath who wants to meet me. Said he has a real interesting deal to discuss, but will only talk to me.”

  “Erich Vath?” Gagnon repeated. “Never heard of him. How’d he get your name or know where you work? It seems suspicious.”

  “He said he got my name and where I work from someone we do business with, but didn’t want to say who it was over the phone. At first I was skeptical, but he did give me a number to call him back at a car dealership where he works. I checked that part out and it’s legit. He wants to meet me tomorrow night when he gets off work.”

  “You want him grabbed?”

  “Naw, he sort of piqued my interest. I don’t want to scare him off until I hear what he has to say. I’ll meet with him, but instead of meeting him after work tomorrow, I’m going to pay him a visit at the dealership when he’s still there.”

  “Catch him by surprise.”

  “Exactly. I also want to show the patch to make sure he gets an up-close feeling for who he’s fuckin’ with. Round up half-a-dozen or so of the guys and tell ’em to wear their colours. We’ll take a little ride tomorrow around noon.”

  * * *

  As tired as Jack was, that night he had a fitful night of sleep. His brain played havoc and left him fighting for his life in his dreams. When the nightmares did wake him he’d lie there and worry about how successful his plan would go with Lance.

  At 5:30 a.m. he got up to use the washroom and when he came back to the bedroom he saw Natasha returning from the living room with her pillow.

  “Not again,” he said.

  She nodded. “The sofa was safer than risk being punched and kicked.”

  “I’m sorry. You should’ve woken me and I’d have slept on the sofa. When I got up a minute ago I hadn’t even realized you’d left.”

  “I didn’t want to wake you. I knew you needed to sleep.” She looked at him curiously. “Speaking of which, did you get any?”

  “Get any?” He pretended to think about it, then replied, “Sleep or sex? I’m too tired to remember.”

  Natasha eyed him scornfully. “If you’d had sex with me last night you’d remember.” She tried unsuccessfully to keep a pert smile off her face.

  “It’s been that long, has it?”

  She wrapped her arms around him, then kissed him passionately before murmuring, “You tell me how long it’s been.”

  “Uh …”

  She whispered in his ear and said, “It’ll take your mind off of things and help you get back to sleep.”

  “Doctor’s orders?”

  “Yes.”

  * * *

  The rumble and vibration of eight Harley-Davidsons pulling up in front of the showroom at Johnny’s New and Used Cars caught everyone’s attention. Even more so when they realized all the riders were full-patch members of Satans Wrath.

  The bikers parked their hogs in a cluster, then milled around on the pretext of looking at some cars that were for sale. Soon a salesman appeared from out of the showroom and hesitantly asked if he could be of assistance.

  Lance stepped away from the group. “I’m interested in that van,” he said, gesturing to a van parked at the end of a long row, farthest from the showroom. “I want to deal with a guy by the name of Erich Vath.”

  “He’s inside,” the salesman replied, looking relieved. “I’ll send him out,” he added as he scurried back into the showroom.

  Vath appeared a moment later and Lance met him out of earshot of the rest.

  “You looking to buy a van?” Vath asked.

  Lance noticed Vath checking out his colours, including the emblem on his chest which identified him as president. He glowered down at Vath then turned and walked toward the van.

  “You want us to wait, boss?” Gagnon yelled.

  “Yeah. We won’t be long.”

  “I was told you asked for me,” Vath said, sounding friendly as he hurried to keep pace.

  Lance kept walking.

  “Have we met before?” Vath asked.

  Lance gave him a hard look. “No,” he said in a manner that didn’t invite further conversation.

  When they arrived Vath fumbled to open the van door, but before he could Lance shoved him against the side of the vehicle and held him in place with one hand on his chest.

  “Wha … what’s going on?”

  “I’m not here to buy a van,” Lance stated. “I’m here because we know you deal with Derek and —”

  “Who?” Vath asked nervously.

  “Derek Graves … or do you call ’im Zombie?” Lance questioned.

  “Uh … uh …”

  “Don’t fuck with me,” Lance replied.

  “No, sir, but —”

  “But what? We know you stood six for him last week when he met our guy.”

  Vath’s mouth flopped open.

  “Can you imagine what would happen if someone tipped off the Death Heads that you’re doing business with them and the United Front at the same time?”

  “You, you know that?”

  “Of course we fuckin’ know that. We’ve been keeping tabs on you for some time. The United Front and the Death Heads don’t know what you’re up to, but if you try to bullshit me, that’ll change.”

  “Please, no, don’t do that,” he begged.

  “I’ll decide on that after we’re done talkin’.”

  Vath’s eyes widened and he glanced back at the other bikers. “So you were there when Borman introduced your guy to Zombie? That’s how you know about me?”

  “No, I wasn’t there myself. I’m president, for fuck sakes. I send my guys to do that shit.” He shook his head as if in disbelief. “Why are you surprised? Did you think you were dealing with amateurs? That you’re the only guy smart enough to do counter-surveillance?”

  “No, I … no, I, uh, of course. Your guy’s reputation is, uh …”

  “Is what?”

  “Is, is solid,” he stammered. “Everyone knows that.”

  Lance glared at him, then lowered his hand from his chest. “You’re fuckin’ right it’s solid. Speaking of which, me talking to you is a one-time thing. I don’t normally get involved on a personal level with this shit. The only reason I showed up is so you and your people will know that we’re serious.”

  “My people?”

  Lance stared in response.

  “I, I see.” Vath swallowed as he straightened his sports jacket and adjusted his tie, then asked, “What do you want with me?”

  “Something urgent has been decided and we can’t seem to get hold of Graves, but we know you can. We have a business proposition for him. A very profitable one.”

  “Uh, I, uh, I guess you don’t know. Uh —”

  “Know what?”

  “Zombie, uh, Graves … he’s dead.”

  “Are you shitting me?”

  “No, sir.”

  “If you are then I’ll tell you that you’re making a huge mistake.”

  “No, I’m not. He went down to the States on Sunday night and got shot.”

  “Got shot?” Lance paused. “Huh. I guess that explains why my guy can’t get hold of him.” He looked at Vath curiously. “So who shot him? Was he robbed?”

  “No, it wasn’t a robbery. I, uh, don’t know for sure what happened. It was on the news this morning. A cop was killed, to
o.”

  “Have the cops been around to talk to you?”

  “No, they don’t even know that I know him.”

  “Oh … that’s good.” He eyed Vath long enough to make him squirm. “Looks like we’re dealing with you, then. You’re off work at five p.m., right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll send a guy over to that basement suite you live in at six p.m. He’ll have a chat with you and explain what we’re looking for.”

  Vath’s face paled, perhaps with the knowledge that the bikers knew where he lived. Then he said, “Uh, if this is about you wanting guns, we, uh, aren’t doing that —”

  “What the fuck?” Lance roared while grabbing him with both hands by the front of his sports jacket and slamming him against the van. He then held him pinned with his feet dangling. “Don’t ever say shit like that to my face! You got it!”

  “Yes, yes, sir,” Vath replied quickly.

  Lance saw some of his guys approaching, so he let Vath slide to the ground and waved them back. He then looked at Vath. “If you got something to say to me, choose your words carefully before you shoot your yap off. Treat me like the honest, respectable businessman that I am.”

  “Yes, yes, sir.” Vath swallowed again. “All I was trying to say is, uh, this business thing isn’t up to me. There’s someone else who calls the shots.”

  “Whatever, but you can pass the message on. All you gotta do is listen to what my guy has to say. If you or whoever you work for doesn’t like it — we’ll go elsewhere.”

  “And that’s it? If, uh, things don’t work out, then, uh, you’ll go elsewhere?”

  “We’ll go elsewhere. You … I’m not sure where you’ll be going. That might depend on how genuine we think you’re being with us.”

  “Oh.”

  “Make sure you’re home on time,” Lance ordered. He then left Vath staring after him and returned to his group.

  “What was that all about?” Gagnon asked as Lance got back on his hog.

  “The fucker says he has a line on some guns he wants to sell. I don’t know if he’s stupid or trying to set me up to the cops.”

  Gagnon snorted. “Either way he’s stupid.”

  “Yup,” Lance agreed.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  It was 2:00 p.m. when Jack was awakened from a sound sleep by the sound of his phone vibrating on the bedside table.

  “You’re on,” Lance said. “His place at 6:00 p.m.”

  “How’d it go?”

  “I did what you told me. That part was easy. He said that Graves was shot and killed, but told me he didn’t know any details other than it wasn’t a robbery and that a cop was killed, too. He said it was on the news this morning. He also said there was no heat on ’im.”

  “Good.”

  “It’s up to you now.”

  “I know. I’ll be in touch.”

  * * *

  Jack parked a block from Vath’s basement suite and walked the rest of the way. The entrance was alongside the house, but he hadn’t reached it before the door opened and Vath beckoned him inside.

  “I don’t discuss business inside buildings,” Jack said.

  “Of course,” Vath replied nervously. “I’ll, I’ll grab my coat.”

  “Relax, will ya? Mind if I borrow your can first?” Jack asked.

  “Uh, yeah, no problem. Straight through the living room. It’s at the end of the hall past my bedroom.”

  Jack scanned the living room. An American ­Confederate flag adorned the wall above a sofa. “You an American or been to the southern U.S.?” he asked.

  “I’m Canadian. Haven’t been down there yet. Some day.”

  “Why their flag?”

  Vath looked surprised at the question. “I respect them for what they stand for and represent.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Well, uh, you know.”

  “Maybe I know, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

  “They’re rebels and think and act for themselves.” He paused and eyed Jack. “They’re like you guys. They don’t put up with any shit. Especially from people who don’t belong.”

  Don’t belong? We were talking about the U.S. ­Confederate flag, which is from an area you’ve never even been to, let alone belong to yourself.

  “Is that what you think, too?” Vath asked.

  Think, too? You don’t have the ability to think. “Yeah, I hear ya, man,” he replied, then went down the hall. A glimpse at the bedroom didn’t reveal anything significant so he entered the bathroom, waited a moment, then flushed the toilet and returned to where Vath was waiting at the door.

  “Okay, raise your fuckin’ hands up over your head,” Jack said, gesturing with his hand. “I’m gonna check you for a wire.”

  “A wire?”

  “I’m the cautious type.” He gave a hard look and added, “You got a problem with that?”

  “No, uh, yeah, sure … okay.”

  “Don’t take it personal,” Jack said as he began to pat him down. “This afternoon you weren’t expecting us. Now you are. I need to be sure.”

  “I understand.”

  Jack took his time and had Vath pull his shirt up to expose his chest, as well as having him drop his pants and take his boots off for examination. “Okay, get dressed and we’ll go outside.”

  A moment later, they walked down the alley behind Vath’s home and Jack said, “What I’m gonna tell you isn’t to be spread around. It’s strictly on a need-to-know basis — got it?”

  “Of course. I’m not going to do anything to piss you guys off.”

  “Okay, then here’s the scoop. We’re —”

  “Your guy told you that this isn’t up to me, right?” Vath blurted.

  “My guy?” Jack questioned.

  “Your president. The one who visited me at work today.”

  “Yeah, he told me, so listen to what I have to say. If whoever you deal with isn’t interested, we’ll go elsewhere and you’ll forget this conversation ever took place.”

  “I was worried after talking to your president that you guys would come down on me if I couldn’t come through.”

  “If you’re straight with us, do your best, and don’t fuck us around, then you got nothing to worry about.”

  “Good, okay.” Vath gave a weak smile. “I’m listening.”

  “We’re looking to arm all our chapters across Canada.”

  “The whole country?” Vath replied.

  “We’re going to war from coast to coast. The ­Somalis, East Indians, Chinese, Viets in the lower mainland … Jamaicans in Toronto, blacks in Halifax. We’ve had enough.”

  “Holy fuck!” Vath exclaimed. “Would I love to be a part of that,” he murmured, more to himself than Jack.

  “I take it you’re not a fan of them, either?” Jack replied.

  “Are you kidding? No way! They’re invading us from all sides.” Vath’s face revealed his disgust. “None of our politicians have the guts to step up and do what’s right!”

  Jack made a face. “Ain’t that the truth. Not only that, but when it comes to business those parasites don’t care who they deal to. Whether it’s to young white kids on school grounds or messin’ with our women, they seem to feel they got the right.”

  “I know,” Vath exclaimed. “I’ve said exactly the same thing.”

  “We’ve decided enough is enough.”

  “Man, I hear you.”

  “We’re looking for at least five hundred weapons to start with.”

  “Five … did you say —”

  “Right, five hundred to start with. Likely more later. It’s not like we’ll be hanging onto them once they’ve been used.

  Vath looked astounded, then mumbled, “That’s … that’s a lot. To try and bring that many across the border …” His words trailed off and he looked at Jack.

  “We’d look after that part. We bring in merchandise by the tonne, not to mention smuggling in immigrant whores or whatever else we want. We’ve got severa
l pipelines back and forth to the States. For us that part is easy.”

  “And you want five hundred,” Vath uttered quietly as if thinking out loud. He looked in deep thought.

  “If you can’t handle that much then say so. If you can’t come up with at least fifty, it isn’t worth our while dealing with you. We’ve got other suppliers we can approach stateside and we’re shopping for the best price.”

  “The uh, thing is, I’m supposed to be laying low, but for that many, I think I should call someone.”

  “Laying low?”

  Vath swallowed. “Because of Graves getting killed.”

  “Yeah, I was told something about that, but you said there was no heat on you.”

  “There isn’t.”

  Jack looked suspiciously at Vath. “What’s him gettin’ killed got to do with anything? All I heard was that a cop was killed and we presumed they shot it out with each other and both died.”

  “Maybe that’s what happened. I’m not sure. My buddy wasn’t all that forthcoming about how it went down. All I was told was I’m to lay low for a few months.”

  “Your buddy … you mean your contact for getting guns? He was there?”

  “Yes,” Vath replied hesitantly.

  “Wish you’d said so, ’cause that changes everything. We don’t need the heat, especially with the amount of money we’re talking about.” Jack gestured with his hands up in the air. “Sorry, man. I don’t know what your profit would’ve been, but if you only made, say, three hundred dollars a gun on your commission, multiply that times five hundred and you’d be making one hundred and fifty g’s.”

  “I’d expect to make five hundred dollars a gun,” Vath said.

  “Yeah, whatever. Guess your profit then would have been a quarter mil’.” Jack gave a sympathetic smile and patted him on the shoulder. “That’s life. Sorry, but we don’t want to do business with someone who’s got that much heat on ’im, and a dead cop means a lot of heat.”

  Vath looked agitated as Jack turned and headed back down the alley.

  “But there’s no heat on me,” Vath said as he hastened to catch up. “The only guy the cops knew about was Graves.”

  “No heat on you, but what about your buddy?”

  “No, the cops don’t know about him either. It was Graves who was being followed. They were probably hoping he’d lead them to Jerry.” Vath frowned, perhaps upset that he’d let the name slip. Then he continued, “The cop was alone and he was killed as soon as Graves met up with my connection — that’s Jerry. From how it happened, the cop wouldn’t have had a clue who Jerry was, so he couldn’t have told anyone.”