Текст книги "Jack Taggart Mysteries 7 - Book Bundle"

Автор книги: Don Easton

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Текущая страница: 103 (всего у книги 141 страниц)

chapter six

Early Saturday morning found Jack Taggart slowly cruising through an upscale neighbourhood in Vancouver. He had obtained Earl Porter’s address, which was a penthouse condo on Beach Avenue, overlooking the False Creek marina. Besides his Mustang, the Motor Vehicle Branch also listed Porter as owning a silver pickup truck.

The apartment building was monitored with closed-circuit television cameras and had a secure underground parking lot, but Jack simply bided his time and gained entry by quickly walking through the garage door after a car had entered. A quick look for Porter’s vehicles resulted in locating his convertible Mustang, but the pickup truck was gone. From the layer of pockmarked dust on the Mustang, Jack knew Porter hadn’t driven it for over a week since the last rainfall.

On Sunday night, Jack returned to the condo and saw that the lights to the penthouse were not on. He pushed the intercom regardless, ready to pretend it was a mistake, but there was no response.

On Monday morning at ten o’clock, Jack was scheduled to testify at the trial of several Satans Wrath motorcycle gang members who had been charged with conspiracy to traffic in cocaine. Jack, as an undercover operative with the RCMP Intelligence Unit, normally avoided going to court. He was, however, considered an expert when it came to organized crime and Satans Wrath in particular. He had well-documented evidence Satans Wrath was a criminal empire that had successfully clawed and murdered its way to become an international organized-crime syndicate.

The club had chapters in dozens of countries and was involved in almost every criminal venture a person could think of, including murder, extortion, drug trafficking, prostitution, bribery, theft, and loan-sharking. The crown was hoping to prove gangsterism charges under some relatively new sections of the Criminal Code.

It was only nine o’clock and Jack decided he had time before court to make another quick visit to Porter’s condo. His timing was perfect. As he drove up to the condo, he saw Porter’s silver pickup truck entering the garage.

Jack called Connie Crane, who was a veteran homicide investigator with the RCMP and assigned to the Integrated Homicide Investigation Team. Jack had worked with her on past investigations and although Connie had often voiced her objections to Jack’s style of policing, he still highly respected her.

Jack quickly filled Connie in on what Marcie had told him about Lily Rae and what he had discovered about Porter from Drug Section.

“He’s home now, CC. How long will it take you to interview him? Half an hour is all I’m asking.”

“I do homicides, not missing persons.”

“Yeah, like all the missing persons who showed up at the pig farm.”

“That’s a low blow, Jack, even for you. You know how awful I feel about that case.”

“Sorry … I know you’re dedicated … and overworked. We all are.”

“Why me?”

“Next to a polygraph operator, you’re the best person I know at sniffing out a liar.”

“Thanks, I think I smell one now over the phone. Why don’t you do it?” Connie asked.

“If you do it and think he’s done something to her, then I’ll try a UC approach. I don’t want him knowing who I really am.”

“Christ … yeah, okay. I’ll do it.”

“Thanks, CC. I owe you one,” said Jack.

“Hey, with you involved, I should be happy I’m not coming over to look at a body. Are you going to wait until I get there?”

“Can’t. I have to be in Supreme Court at ten.”

“What? You really do go to court sometimes?” said Connie sarcastically. “I never knew you to actually arrest someone. I thought when you were done with the bad guys you handed them over to the coroner.”

Jack chuckled. “Don’t give me too much credit. This isn’t for anyone I busted. I have to give expert testimony and tell a judge that Satans Wrath really are a criminal group operating in concert with each other.”

“Everyone knows about Satans Wrath. Tell the judge to read a newspaper.”

“The prosecutor thinks I’ll be done by eleven.”

“You never know how long an interview will take. I’ll call you or leave a message as soon as I’ve talked to him.”

Jack gave his evidence and was off the stand by eleven. He had not heard back from CC yet and as he was the last witness, he decided to sit in the courtroom and listen to the summations by the Crown and the defence lawyers. The courtroom was almost empty, with the exception of a couple of wives and girlfriends. The defence lawyers knew it wouldn’t help their cause to show their solidarity by having it packed full of bikers.

The only club member who did show up to watch was dressed in a suit and tie and looked like the wealthy businessman he was. Damien was the national president of the club and he and Jack knew each other well. Too well, in both their opinions.

The judge was about to render a decision when Connie stuck her head inside the courtroom and motioned for Jack to come out into the hallway.

“You got time to talk?” she asked.

“Yes, we’re about done here. I think the judge has to get back to Disneyland.”

“Where’s your sidekick?”

“I’m flying solo these days. Laura’s on holidays. Gone for three weeks. So how did it go with Porter?”

“I talked to him. To start with, he is paranoid as hell. Something has him scared. I had to hold my badge up to the camera at the front door before he let me in. He even locked the door once I was inside.”

“What about Lily Rae?”

“No sign of her. I asked when he had last seen her and he wouldn’t give me a straight answer. It was more like he wanted to know whatever I knew. Things like, ‘What makes you think I would know where she is?’ or, ‘If something happened to her, I had nothing to do with it.’”

“The bastard.”

“He’s really insolent … kind of got my goat. I tell ya, he’s one guy I’d feel almost justified in smacking around. In the end, he said he dumped her over a week ago and didn’t know where she was.”

“Maybe he did and she got embarrassed or something and ran away. Marcie said she had run away before.”

“Not a chance. That son of a bitch has done something to her.”

“You absolutely certain?” asked Jack.

“One hundred percent. You should have seen his face. A kid in kindergarten could have seen he was lying. I think we should get our ducks in a row. Maybe check his phone records and talk to his neighbours. Find out if anyone heard any fights or anything and then bring him in and really question him. If he doesn’t lawyer up, I bet I could get him to crack within an hour.”

“How did you leave it with him?”

“I remained noncommittal because I wanted to talk to you first. I didn’t want to freak him out any worse than he is and get him to thinking he should call a lawyer. I gave him my card and told him to give me a call if he heard from her or remembered something.”

“I doubt you’ll get much in the way of phone records. If he and his buddy Clive Slater are dealing coke, they’ll be changing cellphones faster than you change your panties. I think you —”

Jack stopped talking as Damien exited the courtroom and walked over to them.

“Good day, Corporal Taggart,” said Damien with a smile. “Hope you have a pleasant afternoon. I know I will,” he added, before walking away.

“What was that all about?” asked Connie.

“He was letting me know the judge didn’t accept my evidence.”

“What? You’re kidding! Everyone knows Satans Wrath’s history of murder and dope dealing. How could a judge even consider the idea that they’re not in it as a criminal venture?”

Jack shrugged and said, “Your guess is probably about as good as mine. Maybe the new law wasn’t worded to the judge’s liking. Or it could be one of a number of other things. The judge could be scared, obtuse, bought off, or has a utopian belief that any potential violation of civil rights outweighs the need to protect society as a whole. Take your pick.”

“You don’t seem all that upset,” noted Connie.

Jack shrugged and said, “I’ve lost all faith in the justice system. Nothing surprises me anymore.”

Connie studied Jack for a moment. Of course you don’t believe in the justice system. Explains why you completely ignore it a lot of the time. You prefer to send people directly to the morgue …

“Now, back to Porter,” continued Jack. “Do your thing first. Get your ducks in a row and bring him in for proper questioning.”

“Sounds good. Hopefully he doesn’t lawyer up.”

Jack’s face remained impassive, hiding what he was thinking. For his sake, he better hope he talks to you. Otherwise I’ll get him to talk my way …

chapter seven

In El Paso, the sun had barely cracked the eastern horizon Monday morning when Adams went to the hospital. Becky was at her husband’s bedside when he arrived, but when she saw Adams, she quickly got up and met him at the door.

“Becky, I’m so sorry,” said Adams. “How’s he doing?”

“Awful, but he wants to talk to you. He spent most of yesterday under sedation, but when he was awake, he kept asking for you.”

“The doctors said to let him get some rest and give him time to settle down before debriefing him.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what to say. I’m just glad we got him back.”

“What is there to say?” she replied bitterly. “Except that it’s over. We’re done with this shit,” she added defiantly. “I can’t take it anymore. As soon as he’s out of here he’s putting in his papers to resign … and don’t you try to talk him out of it,” she added, vehemently.

“I won’t,” replied Adams softly. “I don’t blame him. I expected he would quit. Anybody would.”

Becky studied his face, wondering if he was telling the truth and said, “I’ll wait out here, but keep it short. He can barely hold it together enough to say more than a sentence or two without breaking down.”

Adams nodded and walked into the room. Patton propped himself up on the bed. His eyes were watery and one was bruised and swollen, leaving only a slit to peer out of.

“How ya doin’, partner?” asked Adams. “Hanging in there? I’d have brought you a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, but the stores aren’t open yet. Figured it would be better than whatever prescription shit they’re feedin’ ya in here.”

“I’m not good, John,” admitted Patton. “I’m … I’m finished. I’m quitting. It’s my idea as much as Becky’s.”

“I know, she told me,” replied Adams, sitting down. “Don’t blame you a bit. Yesterday Yolanda and I talked about it, too … and we don’t have any kids.”

Talk between Adams and Yolanda of quitting was a lie, but it was a lie Adams felt his partner needed to hear. The truth was that Adams was too enraged to quit. He wanted to get even. He wanted justice.

“There’s something else. I, I really screwed up,” Patton said, covering his face with his hands to try and stifle a sob.

“You didn’t screw up. We’re always working alone over there. They set you up and wanted you to follow the Mercedes. It was a proper ambush. It could have happened to me as easily as it did to you.”

“It’s not that,” cried Patton. “I really screwed up. I told them.”

“Told them what? What are you talking about?”

“They wanted the names of everyone I worked with. I told them. I didn’t want to, but I did.”

“Fuck ’em. Let them come after us. I hope they do.”

“No … it’s not that. They wanted home addresses. The names of our wives and kids. Some of it I tried to make up. Giving fake names, but I had lost it. There was a lot of yelling and screaming. I was scared. I might have given them some real names, too. Or maybe I only think I did.… Every time I go to sleep it’s like I’m there again. I can’t tell my nightmares apart from what I really did say.”

“Hell, I bet hardly any of them spoke English. They won’t remember or know what —”

“No, the captain spoke good English. He was writing down what I was saying in a notebook. Then he would smile at me as he flipped the pages back and ask some of the same questions over again. They caught me lying a couple of times.”

“Those fucking bastards,” fumed Adams.

“I tried to invent new names, but now I’m not sure what I told them. I know I gave them some of the guys’ real names because I figured they probably knew the names of guys who had been here for years. I even gave them yours. Not your real address, but your name. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. We’re flesh and blood. There is only so much any of us can take.”

“But our families, John. My God, our families …”

“You were gutsy to be throwing out whatever phony names you did. I can only imagine what the pain would have been like. Most men would have spilled their guts immediately. Did they ask about our office? Do they know where it is?”

“No, they never asked. I don’t think it occurred to them that we wouldn’t be working out of the downtown office. Which reminds me. What about the four guys who rescued me? Who were they?”

“FBI agents from the downtown office. I had never met them before, either. Pretty stand-up guys … for FBI agents. Acted almost like real cops.”

Adams’s attempt to get Patton to smile failed.

“I never even thanked them,” he said sombrely.

“I think they would have understood. Under the circumstances, I suspect you had other stuff on your mind.”

“I think I had lost my mind at that point.”

“I’ll get ahold of them. I know they’ll want to come and see how you’re doing.”

“Thanks.”

“The green Mercedes that set you up … I’m sure they’ve already switched plates. There aren’t too many green Mercedes around, but was there anything besides the colour to identify it?”

“It did have a small white scrape in the fender behind the right rear tire. Why? You don’t plan on going back to that house, do you? They’ll have cleared out —”

“I think I already know who owns it. I talked to my friend and he said a guy in the Guajardo cartel by the name of Chico drives a green Mercedes. Chico is an under-boss to the Carrillo Fuentes brothers. He said Chico comes to El Paso regularly to collect money from the pimps who work for him and that he meets them at the Red Poker.”

“So they might have used him to bait the trap at the house we were working on.”

“Yeah … and maybe to check out the addresses you threw at them.” Adams stood up and added, “Get some rest, Greg. I’ll be by to see you later.”

“What are you going to do?”

“What do you think?”

“Don’t, John. It ain’t worth it.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Don’t worry, I won’t do anything stupid.”

Adams felt more sickened and more enraged as he drove back to his office. He didn’t feel any better after telling his boss, Weber, along with the other three bosses in the office what Patton went through and the questions that were asked.

Adams felt the four bosses shared the same attitude that was summed up by Davidson, who was the senior officer of the FBI contingent in their office.

Davidson shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well, not much we can do about it. I’m sure Washington will protest.”

“Protest!” stammered Adams. “If we don’t have the backbone to retaliate after this, none of our families will be safe.”

“There will be no retaliation,” said Weber, sharply. “We are not like them. It is what separates the good guys from the bad.”

Adams glared at Weber. “You didn’t see Greg’s face. What they’ve done to him … they broke him. He’ll never be the same.”

Weber sighed. “I know he’s been through a lot. So have you. You’re angry. We all are. I want you to take a week off. Go home to your wife.”

An hour later, Adams left the office … but he didn’t go home. He opted instead to go to the Red Poker Saloon.

chapter eight

Earl Porter heard the light knock on his door. It had only been twenty minutes since the policewoman had left. He picked up her card from his coffee table and looked at it. Corporal Connie Crane. The knock came again.

“Who is it?” he yelled.

The quiet, but persistent knock continued.

Porter cautiously made his way to the door and looked through the peephole. What he saw was a young girl dressed in a Girl Guide uniform. He breathed a sigh of relief, unlocked the door, and opened it.

Two men burst inside. One pointed a pistol at him while the other brandished a hunting knife. The man with the knife mockingly said, “We have something to discuss, Señor Porter.”

Connie Crane and Jack Taggart were walking out of the courthouse together when Connie received a call on her cellphone. Jack saw the shocked look on her face as she listened.

“I was just there,” she said. “Less than two hours ago … I was interviewing him over a missing person … his girlfriend … Lily Rae.”

Connie paused and stared at Jack suspiciously and added, “Jack Taggart from Intelligence asked me to talk to him. Before this morning, I had never heard of the guy. I’m with Taggart now … not a problem, we’ll both be there.” After Connie hung up, she stood quietly staring at Jack.

“What’s up?” asked Jack.

“What’s up? You mean you’re going to stand here and tell me you don’t know?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t be asking. Why are you looking at me like that? What’s going on?”

“That was Wilson from VPD Homicide. After I left Porter’s this morning, a maid went in to water plants because she thought he was still out of town. She found him tied and gagged to a kitchen chair … with his throat slit.”

“What the hell? I had nothing to do with it. I was in court. You know that. I’m trying to find Lily Rae. I didn’t want the guy who could tell us where she is, getting murdered. Think about it.”

Connie paused for a moment, biting her lip as she pondered the situation before replying, “Yeah, okay, I believe you.

“You should.”

“Shit, don’t blame me for being suspicious. It’s not like you don’t have a long history for doing things you shouldn’t … and don’t give me that act surprised, show concern, deny, deny, deny routine. There have been far too many bodies turning up around you and far too many coincidences.”

“So … how’s it feel with the shoe on the other foot?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well … you know I’m going to have to be truthful when I talk to Wilson. You were the last person to see him alive. You then came to see me and appeared angry. As I recall, you even made some comment about feeling justified smacking him around. Jesus, CC. Why did you do it? You must have known you would get caught.”

“What the fuck? Jack! I didn’t! It was just a coincidence that —”

“A coincidence?” Jack grinned. “Where have I heard that word before?”

Connie scowled at Jack. “You prick. Quit screwing with me.”

Connie and Jack arrived at the condo building and a uniformed member of the Vancouver Police Department opened the lobby door to let them in. Minutes later, Detective Wilson came out in the hallway to talk to them outside of Porter’s penthouse.

Jack told Wilson what had prompted his interest in Porter, as well as Drug Section’s past interest in Porter and his associate, Clive Slater.

“Business interests in Mexico,” mused Wilson. “We already ran the footage on the apartment security cameras. The cameras show two men sneaking in through the underground garage this morning. They both look dark and I was thinking they were Aboriginal, but now that I think of it, they do look Mexican. One looked up at the cameras. I expected him then to try and hide his face. It was the opposite. The asshole sneered into the camera and laughed.”

“He sneered and laughed?” said Jack, incredulously.

“We don’t have sound, but you can tell he did. His sneer is one I won’t forget, either.”

“Let’s nickname him El Burla,” said Jack.

“Al who?” asked Wilson.

“El Burla. The Spanish word for sneer is burla.”

“Sounds good,” replied Wilson.

“You’ve got their faces, then?” noted Connie.

“El Burla for sure. Stocky, black hair covering the tops of his ears, and a very flat and wide nose. He acted like he thought he was invincible. As if he thought we couldn’t touch him. I’ll love showing a jury the camera footage once we catch him. The other guy’s image isn’t quite as clear. I’ll have to see if we can enhance it.”

“Porter was really paranoid when I came to see him,” said Connie. “Now it makes sense. He knew somebody was after him. The thing is, he wouldn’t open the door, even for me, until I held my badge up to the peephole.”

“The door isn’t damaged, so maybe he trusted whoever he let in,” noted Wilson.

“Are you going to grab Clive Slater for questioning?” asked Jack.

“Definitely.” Wilson looked at Connie. “Maybe you and I should work together. You for the missing girlfriend and me for her boyfriend’s homicide.”

“Sounds good to me,” replied Connie. “Let’s hope it doesn’t turn into a double homicide.” She looked at Jack. “Anything to add?”

Jack shook his head. “Not now. You two do your thing, but keep me apprised. I’m willing to help out with a UC approach if it is warranted. Maybe on Slater or whoever else surfaces.”

“You said a UC was tried on Slater before,” said Connie. “It didn’t work.”

“There are different approaches or styles to UC work,” replied Jack.

“Yeah, go figure,” said Connie. “And please, tell me, what would your style —” Connie quit talking as Jack walked past her a short distance down the hallway and gingerly picked up a small piece of cardboard.

“What is it?” asked Wilson.

“A cut-out picture of a Girl Guide,” said Jack. “Explains why Porter opened his door.”

“It does?” asked Wilson. He looked at Connie and she shrugged.

Moments later, both Wilson and Connie took turns peeking through the peephole in Porter’s door while Jack remained in the hall holding the picture up close to the peephole.

“I’d have sworn it was a real kid standing in the hall,” muttered Connie.

Wilson went to Clive Slater’s apartment and found he wasn’t home, so he stuck a business card in his door. A couple of hours later, Wilson received a call from a lawyer by the name of Jenkins who said he was representing Slater and asked what it was about. Wilson told him and Jenkins said he would call back. Minutes later, Jenkins called again and said Slater had agreed to meet Wilson as long as Jenkins was present. Wilson tried to set up an appointment immediately, but Jenkins said his calendar was full. Eventually the lawyer agreed to meet at Wilson’s office the following afternoon at three o’clock.

Connie called Jack to let him know.

“Four hours after a murder and he’s already lawyered up without Wilson even talking to him?” Jack was incredulous.

“Yeah, how about that.”

“You can bet his hands are dirty, too,” muttered Jack.

“Sounds like it. With his lawyer, I doubt Wilson will get much, but who knows. Wilson does have a good rep for being sharp. I’m going down there tomorrow when he interviews him.”

“You going to interview him, too?”

“Not until I hear what he says to Wilson. Later, if need be, we can use Lily Rae as another excuse for me to interview him. Wilson might touch on her disappearance because they would expect us to know she was Porter’s girlfriend, but we will likely hold back on any serious questioning in her regard until later. Maybe catch him without a lawyer. I’ll be down at VPD to confer with Wilson if he feels the need. Would be good if we could reach you, as well.”

“I’ll be available on my cell,” replied Jack. “Tonight, if you don’t have any objections, I’m going to drive out and tell Marcie that Porter was murdered.”

“Not a problem.”

“What about Lily Rae’s mother?” asked Jack. “She should be told, too.”

“Go ahead. Saves me from telling her. Let me know if she says anything that will help. Also, if Lily uses a computer at home, I’d like to get it. Same for anything else you see that might help.”

“Will do … and tell Wilson good luck.”

“Don’t get your hopes up. With the lawyer there, I bet it will be a short interview.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” agreed Jack before hanging up. He brooded for a moment as he formulated a plan on how to get Slater to talk.

Slater won’t think it’s a short interview when I talk to him. In fact, I bet he will remember it for the rest of his life …