A Song Of Redemption
Page 10
with, “But please be more careful the next time you’re working with knives...”
Jeremy got up off of the bed and found his way back out to the waiting room. As he walked toward the entrance, he signalled for Ratchet to follow. The girl behind the glass called out, “Sir! Sir! I need some information before you go!”
Jeremy called back as he walked, “Okay, I just...” But then he thought about what Allison had said, and he hesitated. When Ratchet saw that Jeremy was flustered, he called to the woman, “We’ll be right back…” and escorted Jeremy out to his bike. But when they got to their bikes, they started them up and drove off. The two of them rode back to the bar. It was late, and they were tired, but they wanted the others to know that Jeremy was alright.
After pulling up into the parking lot and turning off their bikes, Ratchet asked Jeremy, “So, is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” Jeremy replied, “I knew the girl who sewed me up, we went to high school together.”
“Do some catching up, did you?” Ratchet asked.
“You could say that…” Jeremy replied. “She’s a Christian, was telling me about a Holy Spirit or something.”
“Are you sure it’s not the spirit of Mrs. Berry coming back to haunt you?” Ratchet teased.
Jeremy smiled a little, but looked down.
“Aw, come on kid,” Ratchet commented, “You’re not getting soft are you?”
“No...” Jeremy said, trying to play it off. “I mean, who cares, right?”
“Right.” Ratchet agreed, “Caring will get you killed.”
“You care about me though, right man?” Jeremy asked, looking Ratchet in the eyes.
Ratchet smiled and said, “Sure kid, that’s probably what’s gonna get me killed.”
And the two of them walked into the bar to discuss with the group what their options were, and how they were going to address the Chupacabras next time.
INTERLUDE
(The Truth Revealed)
Jeremy’s arm healed fairly quickly, and after a week he carefully removed the stitches himself. Ratchet had resolved to do some investigating as to why the Chupacabras came this far north, especially to a rural community. It was evident that they had a sponsor of some sort in the area. Someone was not only already trafficking drugs for them, but also saw enough of an opportunity that they encouraged the Chupacabras to make a move. Ratchet vowed to find out who that ‘someone’ was.
The gang met one night to discuss their options. Ratchet opened up with a request for information. “Has anybody seen any Chupacabras arrested or released? Do they have a regular lawyer who defends them?”
“They seem to be under the radar so far.” one biker answered. “Last week was the first I’ve seen of them this far north.” The others agreed.
“Hmmm…” Ratchet wondered out loud. “Has anybody seen anything odd lately? An unmarked van in a rural area, or business-types hanging out with bikers. Anything out of place.”
Another biker offered, “That county narcotics officer seems awful jittery, does that count?”
“Madison?” Jeremy said, “He’s jittery because his wife’s leaving him. I don’t think he’s our guy.”
Skeeter spoke up, “What about a sheriff’s deputy suddenly driving a BMW?”
Ratchet smiled. “Well I wouldn’t think a cop on the take would be that obvious,” he said, “but that definitely qualifies. I think we should have a talk with him.”
“So what’s the plan?” Jeremy asked. “You can’t just walk up to him at the sheriff’s office and say, “So… taken a kickback on any illegal drugs lately?”
The boys all laughed, but Ratchet said, “No… we’ve got to set up some sort of meeting with him though. Something he wouldn’t suspect.”
“What about offering him a kickback from our business?” Skeeter offered.
“That might work to get him to meet,” said Ratchet, “but what if he doesn’t want to talk?”
“Then we make him talk…” Skeeter said with a grin.
“I think that may do us more harm than good.” said Ratchet. “We need some sort of leverage to convince him to play ball. It would be even better if we could get him out of the picture after he squeals - that might disrupt the Chupacabra’s operations if he’s on their payroll.” After a few moments of silence, a smile crept across Ratchet’s lips and he said, “I’ve got an idea…” and he proceeded to fill the boys in.
When the day of the meeting came, Ratchet was sitting on a bench in the city park. The deputy came up in plain clothes and sat down next to him. “I hear you have a business proposition you want to discuss.” the deputy said. “I still don’t understand why you would want to meet here. ‘Ratchet’, is it?”
“Well,” said Ratchet, “I didn’t think you’d want to come to my friend’s bar, and I’m certainly not coming down to the station. Would you prefer to discuss this at an ice cream parlor?”
The deputy smiled. “No, I guess not.” he said. “What’s on your mind Mr. Ratchet’”
“I’ve been noticing you like nice things.” Ratchet said.
“I do like nice things,” the deputy agreed.
Ratchet looked at the deputy, then down at the deputy’s wrist. “That watch is a Rolex.” he said. Ratchet looked at the deputy’s shoes and went on, “Your shoes are Gucci, and if I’m not mistaken, that’s a BMW you just drove up in.”
“Very observant,” said the deputy, “what’s your point?”
Ratchet looked off into the distance and continued, “You and I both know you could never afford those on a deputy’s salary, so I know you’re on someone’s payroll.”
“Cut to the chase, Ratchet.” the deputy said, a little annoyed.
“Alright then,” Ratchet went on, “my friends and I conduct business in what your people call ‘controlled substances’. We would like for you to look the other way when we conduct our business. Judging by your recent shopping habits, it’s apparent that you do this for other… investors. So the only question now is, how much is it going to cost me to conduct my business under your watch?”
“Well,” said the deputy, “this most certainly is not an ice cream parlor conversation. I’ll tell you what,” he said as he got out a pen and piece of scrap paper, “I’m going to write a number down on this piece of paper, and you tell me whether you still want to conduct business on my watch, okay?”
The deputy scribbled something down on the paper, put the paper down on the bench, and slid it over to Ratchet. Ratchet picked up the paper and looked at it.
“Whoooo…” Ratchet said. “Is that per month?”
“Per week.” the deputy clarified.
Ratchet turned the paper around so it was facing away from him and held it up about waist level. “What are you doing?” the deputy asked.
“Oh,” Ratchet replied, “I’m just holding this up so my friend over there with the zoom lens camera can get a good shot of it.” The deputy looked out across the park to see a woman with a camera knelt down in the grass. When she gave a ‘thumbs up’, the deputy’s stomach started to sink.
“What’s a picture of a number going to do for you?” the deputy asked, noticeably shaken.
“Not much.” Ratchet said, pulling a tape recorder out of his biker vest. “But combined with this audio recording, I’m guessing it’s going to be very instrumental in getting you to give me the information I’m looking for.”
“If you give that to the D.A.” the deputy reasoned, “they’ll arrest you too.”
Ratchet shook his head and said, “Oh, I’m pretty sure I can strike a deal with the D.A. if I hand a dirty cop over to them. I’m not concerned about that in the least.”
“All right Mr. Ratchet, I’ll play your game.” the deputy conceded. “What is it you want from me?”
“Who’s your other ‘investor’.” Ratchet asked.
The deputy looked around for a minute, then answered, �
�The Chupacabras.”
Now Ratchet looked at the deputy. “Who brought the Chupacabras in,” he said, “I want a name.”
The deputy shook his head and smiled. “He’ll kill me.” he said.
“Well then…” said Ratchet, “It looks like you’re in a tight spot either way.” After giving the deputy a minute to consider his options, Ratchet went on, “Here’s what I think. I think you should give me the name I’m looking for, then I’ll give you this tape, then you’ll leave your nice cushy deputy job and disappear to another state. How does that sound?”
The deputy put his head down and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know his name.” he said finally, “I’ve only spoken to him over the phone. Calls himself ‘Mr. B.’”
“So how do you contact Mr. B?” Ratchet asked.
The deputy sighed. “He has a courier drop off money in an envelope to my mailbox every Saturday night around 10:00. If I need him to call me, I leave a note in the mailbox, and I presume the courier takes it to him.”
“Okay,” Ratchet directed, “here’s what you’re going to do. This Saturday night you’re going to leave a note in your mailbox saying that you think someone is on to you. Then I would