Текст книги "Jack Taggart Mysteries 7 - Book Bundle"

Автор книги: Don Easton

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 86 (всего у книги 141 страниц)

Chapter Ten

On Tuesday morning, Jack listened to the details over the phone as the uniformed Mountie from Port Coquitlam told him about the robbery. As he listened, Jack thought about his own life and his time with Natasha on Friday night. Life can change in a heartbeat … value every second.

“Canine Unit tracked him down,” the Mountie said. “The guy does have AIDS, so I guess it’s a good thing the dog didn’t bite him.”

“AIDS cannot be transferred from an infected person to an animal,” replied Jack.

“Yeah? Good to know. Too bad it isn’t that way with people. Personally I cringe every time I have to arrest someone who is combative.”

“Don’t you pack a Taser?”

“Are you kidding? With the crap we get for using Tasers these days I’d be better off shooting them. Anyway, the guy wasn’t a problem. The asshole was so stoned he was lying in some bushes. Said he couldn’t remember if he dreamed he did it, or actually did. He had a small amount of meth in his pocket. CPIC says you are interested in him so —”

“Anyone talk to him to see where he got the meth?” asked Jack. “I’m trying to track down any labs or even rumours of labs at this point.”

“I don’t have any info on any labs,” replied the Mountie. “As far as where he got it from, you have to be kidding. Around here kids can buy that shit easier than they can cigarettes. If you want to know who the dealers are, go down to the schools and see who are driving the muscle cars. Sure as hell isn’t the teachers.”

“That’s a sad state of affairs.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve got kids of my own. As far as this guy goes, CPIC says he is gang-connected.”

“Bottom end,” replied Jack.

“You have time to work on the bottom end?” said the Mountie. “Must be nice, we don’t have the time or manpower to go after the bigger fish, let alone the small fry.”

“I understand,” replied Jack. He briefly thought about Varrick and his previous opinion that he was too small to work on. A four-year-old girl may die because I didn’t make the time.

When Jack hung up, he sighed as he thought about Ai-li. Bet she doesn’t think the guy who injected her was too small to work on …

Jack picked up the next report from a pile on his desk. It was about some youths were joyriding in a stolen car. They lost control and drove onto a sidewalk where a man was walking with his wife. He pushed his wife out of the way in time, but the car mutilated his legs against the side of a building. He would never walk again. The youths escaped, but a small quantity of meth was found in the car. The investigation was still continuing.

As Jack picked up the next report he glanced at Laura and their eyes met. “I don’t know how much more of this I can stand,” she said, gesturing to the reports. “Feel like a coffee?”

“You go ahead,” replied Jack. “To me, it’s like taking off a Band-Aid. Do you do it slowly or rip it off all at once? I prefer to get it over with.”

“Hadn’t thought of it that way,” replied Laura. She grimaced and continued reading.

Jack’s next report was about an incident in the early hours of Sunday morning. The police in Richmond were called by a husband to a domestic dispute. Their sixteen-year-old daughter, due home at midnight, arrived forty minutes late. His wife and daughter argued and the mother punched the girl in the mouth, breaking her tooth. The husband attempted to intervene, but his wife, who had prior convictions for prostitution and was addicted to meth, threatened him with a butcher knife. The man locked himself in the bathroom and used his cellphone to call the police. The mother was arrested and a small quantity of meth was found in her purse, along with a phone number for a known Brotherhood dealer.

Jack threw the report down in disgust and said, “A few years ago there were only a few labs. Today it’s everywhere. The Ministry of Health should list meth as an epidemic,” said Jack, facetiously.

“More like the World Health Organization should declare it a pandemic,” replied Laura. “You coming up with anything?”

“Nothing except a sour stomach. Doesn’t anybody care about what is going on?” he lamented.

“Someone does,” mused Laura. “I’ve got a Crime Stoppers report that indicates someone with a reliable history has been giving tips about drugs and dealers at Queen Elizabeth Secondary School in Surrey. Uniform has made several small-time busts.”

“Glad someone is doing their bit,” replied Jack, dismissing the information as his thoughts focused on the next report. A Dave Valentine of the Victoria Police Department had responded to the CPIC entry concerning one of the lab rats that Jack had arrested a year and a half ago. This particular lab rat was in jail, but Jack had listed him as a person of interest in the event he was granted day parole. Victoria PD reported they had heard he was receiving drugs while in jail through a Victoria dealer by the name of Cory McCall.

Jack called Valentine and learned that Cory McCall had a lengthy record, including seven previous drug convictions, three of which were for trafficking. He was currently on probation in Victoria and had only been released from jail the previous week. He was known to be a close friend of the lab rat and they had been in the same jail together.

“Cory isn’t a huge dealer,” said Valentine, “but he is a thorn in our side. Out only a week and we’re told he’s got dealers putting out for him all over town.”

“Meth?” asked Jack.

“No. Coke. Small amounts up to the pound level.”

“His friend in jail used to run a speed lab,” explained Jack. “Labs are what I am after. I’m trying to identify a person by the nickname of Cocktail who is connected with the labs and is likely working for Satans Wrath. Cocktail was involved in a murder of an innocent citizen who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Sorry, I don’t know of any labs and have never heard of Cocktail.”

“Any objection if I do a UC on McCall and try to turn him?” asked Jack. “If they were in jail together and are friends, McCall might know who Cocktail is.”

“I’d rather see the asshole busted and put back in jail. He has a dangerous reputation … but seeing as you’re talking about a murder, I don’t have any objections.”

“Good. Do you know where he hangs out at?”

“His dealers float around town, but usually on weekends McCall goes to a club in the basement of the Strathcona Hotel.”

“My partner and I will be over this weekend.”

“Like I said, he is dangerous. I think he has a screw loose. You’ll need a good cover team. We can help you with that.”

“Great. Really appreciate it.”

Jack’s next call was to Connie. She was in full agreement with the idea and reiterated that she was anxious to get something going rather than wait and take their chances when Kent Rodine went to court.

“This could be the one time the judge puts Rodine in jail,” said Connie. “Rolling McCall could be our best and maybe only option.”

At eleven o’clock on Friday night, Jack and Laura descended the steps below street level into the club beneath the Strathcona Hotel. They had seen a photograph of McCall and knew that he was tall, tattooed, and had used his time in jail to lift weights. He was someone who would easily stand out in a crowd.

Once Jack’s eyes adjusted to the dimness of the lights, he saw that the majority of the crowd were young people who appeared friendly and were there simply to have a good time. Many were university students while a few were tourists who were checking out the nightlife that Victoria had to offer. There was no sign of McCall.

“Music is a little loud,” commented Laura as they took a seat.

“I agree,” replied Jack. “Some say if the music is too loud it means you’re too old.”

“Don’t even go there,” replied Laura. “No sign of our friend.”

“It’s early yet.”

Over the next hour the crowd continued to swell. Jack and Laura discreetly watched and eventually identified two or three drug dealers who were making frequent trips to the washroom with some customers or simply doing exchanges under the tables with others.

It was one-thirty when they spotted McCall saunter in and sit with two of the dealers. Jack saw them whisper and both dealers handed money to McCall.

“Bingo,” said Jack. “Time to score.”

Jack waited and approached one of the dealers after he left McCall.

“Hey, I moved from Edmonton,” said Jack. “Don’t know anyone yet.” Jack touched his nostril and said, “Do you know where a guy could get something a little stronger than booze?”

The dealer stared at him briefly, sizing him up, and asked, “How much ya lookin’ for?”

“An eight-ball,” replied Jack.

“Meet me in the can in three minutes,” said the dealer.

The transaction went smoothly and the dealer sold Jack one-eighth of an ounce of cocaine. Five minutes later, Jack returned and sat with Laura.

They watched as the dealer returned and spoke with McCall. Over the next hour, three dealers periodically met with McCall.

Jack waited until he saw McCall walking back from the bathroom before approaching him and blocking his path. “I got something to say to you,” said Jack.

“Yeah?” replied McCall, staring down at Jack.

“The coke your guy sold me better be good or you’ll be losing a lot of business.”

McCall’s face showed instant rage and he said, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” replied Jack. “I’m in the business, too. I can see what is going on with the guys you got working for you.”

McCall stepped closer to Jack and cocked his fist. The violent response caught Jack slightly off guard and he could feel the spittle spray on his face as McCall spoke. “You shouldn’t be fuckin’ talkin’ to me! I just got out of jail two weeks ago! I don’t know you!”

“Yeah?” replied Jack calmly. “Well I don’t know you, either. But I want you to know that I’m looking for a steady connection so I can send good quantity back to Alberta. Right now I’m scoring small samples to see who has the best stuff. If your stuff is shit, then you’ll be losing a chance to be making big bucks down the road.”

McCall stepped back, panting heavily as he tried to decide whether Jack was a provocation or a business opportunity. Jack recalled the warning he had received earlier about McCall. He is dangerous … and unpredictable …

“What weight ya talkin’ about?” asked McCall.

Jack shrugged and said, “Well, as you said, I don’t know you, either. I’d prefer to start off small. Maybe a pound to begin with. If it is good and everything goes well, then I’d have no trouble handling a few keys every month.”

McCall said, “Well the stuff you got tonight has been stepped on, I’ll tell you that now. But if you’re buying quantity I won’t dilute it. How about we meet tomorrow around noon and I’ll sell you an ounce as a sample?”

Jack agreed and the following day he waited in an alley behind a Victoria restaurant. Eventually McCall arrived and motioned for Jack to get in his car. Jack complied and was not too concerned as Dave Valentine, along with several other members of the Victoria PD, were hiding in close proximity.

“You got it!” yelled McCall looking wild-eyed as Jack sat in the car and closed the door.

Jack wondered if McCall was planning on robbing him so he nodded toward his own car in the alley and said, “I’ve got my end together, how about you?”

McCall’s demeanour changed abruptly. “Yeah, right here,” he replied softly while reaching in his pants pocket to retrieve a small plastic bag of cocaine.

“A beautiful day,” said Jack, eyeing McCall curiously.

“Yeah, it’s nice here,” replied McCall. “You’ll like Victoria.”

Jack nodded and said, “Actually I’ve got the money with me.” He passed McCall a wad of cash and in return received the cocaine.

As McCall was counting the money a seagull flew low over the car and landed on the ground. “What the fuck?” screamed McCall. The muscles in his face twitched and he bounced around on the seat looking out all the car windows.

“Just a bird,” said Jack.

“Oh,” replied McCall as he started counting the money over again.

“So this stuff is good?” said Jack. “Better than what you sold me last night?”

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t step on it at all.”

“You do some yourself?” asked Jack, wondering if cocaine was responsible for McCall’s mood swings.

“Fuck, no. Don’t do dope.”

You act this way without being on drugs? You are nuts …

“You do dope?” asked McCall.

“Nope. That’s for chumps. I’d rather make money.”

“That’s how I look at it, too.”

Jack returned to his own car and watched as McCall drove slowly down the alley, but before reaching the end he abruptly stepped on the gas. His tires squealed as the car burst wildly out of the alley and onto the street before disappearing amongst a honking of horns.

Moments later Jack met with Laura and members of the Victoria PD.

Jack turned over the plastic baggie of cocaine to Valentine and said, “This guy is dangerous.”

“I know. I warned you.”

Jack looked at Laura and sighed.

“What is it?” she asked.

“In all good conscience I don’t think we should give McCall the opportunity to stay out of jail.”

Laura stared briefly at Jack and said, “It’s your call. I respect your opinion on that. Connie won’t be happy.”

“Neither will some citizen when they cross paths with McCall. He’s a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.” Jack looked at Valentine and said, “Bust him. I’ll testify when the time comes.”

Later, Jack called Connie.

“How did it go?” she asked. “Did he roll? Does he know who Cocktail is?”

Jack sighed and said, “Sorry, Connie. For your investigation, consider McCall a dead end. He’s too dangerous. I’m not giving him the opportunity to talk. We’ll need to find some other way to pursue this.”

“What are you talking about? We need to identify Cocktail!”

“I know that,” replied Jack as he hung up.

Chapter Eleven

On Monday morning Jack received an unexpected call from Gabriel Parsons, inviting him over for tea.

“I don’t know if you know,” said Gabriel, “but we’ve moved to a new home in Richmond. Well … not exactly new. About the same as our other place, but new to us. A new start, I pray.”

That was fast, thought Jack, before realizing three months had passed since Father Brown was murdered. Three months and we’re no further ahead …

Jack arrived at the new address and Gabriel invited him inside for tea and freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies.

“I wanted to apologize,” said Gabriel. “I believe I was rude to you when … well, when we first met. I was blaming you for allowing these men to make drugs in my basement.”

“I’m the policeman, not the judge who let them out,” said Jack.

“I realize that. I also spoke with my neighbour before I moved. Was it you who came and cleaned the back of my house?”

Jack nodded and recalled the numerous sprays of blood that he had scrubbed off. It made him conscious of how much time had passed while a monster remained on the loose.

“That was a very Christian thing to do. Out of curiosity, what church do you belong to?”

“I’m an atheist.”

“Oh … I see,” replied Gabriel, with a frown.

“How is Faith?” asked Jack, intentionally changing the subject.

“She’s still in hospital. She has one more round of radiation to go. The doctor seems optimistic. I have been praying that God does not take her from me this soon.”

“And your son? How is he doing?”

“Noah is … well, he’s had to adjust to a new school. He’s been fighting. I think he is angry at the world. He and Father Brown were close. It was like he lost his father all over again. At least the doctors say he is healthy.”

“Would you like me to talk to him?”

“Thank you, but no. Together, our faith in God will see us through these troubled times. The school counsellor is also involved.”

“I see. And your daycare? Have you started up again?”

“I have one dear little toddler for three days a week when her mother works. Hopefully more will come later. All of my previous clients have taken their children elsewhere. I can’t blame them, I suppose.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Gabriel shrugged off his comment and said, “I also have a basement suite, but have been afraid to … well, after last time ... would you happen to know anyone? Perhaps a young police officer or someone who would be interested?”

“Not offhand, but I will ask around,” replied Jack.

The rest of the visit went well, but Jack felt mixed emotions when he left. He was relieved that Gabriel was not blaming him, but at the same time he spotted a photograph of Faith and felt frustrated that he was no closer to identifying Cocktail than he was months earlier.

Two more weeks passed with little activity until the day that Kent Rodine appeared for his trial over his charges stemming from when seven labs were raided. Jack and Laura, both parked outside the courthouse, waited for a call from one of the Drug Section investigators. The call came early in the afternoon.

“Jack. Sammy here. You wouldn’t believe the performance. Rodine’s girlfriend looks like she’s going to give birth any moment. They were being all kissy-face and he was patting her stomach. Once, when Rodine was being cross-examined I think she had a contraction. The jury couldn’t take their eyes off of her.”

“Do you know her name?”

“I heard the lawyer refer to her as Miss Venice when he asked if she was okay.”

“Is the jury still out?”

“No, they’re back already. It’s the fastest I’ve seen a jury reach a decision. Guess they didn’t want to watch a baby being born in front of them. No big surprise, they found Rodine not guilty. Didn’t matter that his fingerprints were on the glassware. Good news for you, but to me the whole thing sucks.”

“You got an eye on them?”

“Yeah, they should be coming out soon. He groomed for court and is clean shaven with short hair and wearing a blue, pin-striped suit. She is as big as a house. You can’t miss them. Hang on … the lawyer is walking with them. You should see all of them in about half a minute.”

“Who is the lawyer?” asked Jack.

“A biker lawyer. Basil Westmount.”

“Same one that Varrick had,” replied Jack. “That’s a good sign. Could mean that Rodine is close to Satans Wrath.”

“Good luck.”

Rodine, Venice, and Westmount left the courthouse together and walked to a nearby lounge. Jack and Laura walked in as their targets sat down in a booth. Connie, along with several other I-HIT members, remained outside to continue the surveillance when they left.

Although the lighting was dim, there were no other customers and Jack knew that they could not sit beside them in the next booth and listen without attracting attention.

“What do you figure?” whispered Laura. “Maybe we should wait outside.”

“I’d like to know if Cocktail’s name comes up,” replied Jack.

“They’ll burn us if we try to listen in on —”

“Come on,” said Jack, taking Laura by the hand and walking over and sitting at the booth adjoining Westmount, Rodine, and Venice. Westmount, who had been talking, became quiet as soon as Jack and Laura sat down. Laura looked at Jack and grimaced.

“Let’s sit farther back where it’s darker,” said Jack, standing up. “Your hubby works around here. If he walks in, it’s better if we see him first.”

Westmount watched quietly as Jack and Laura moved to a table farther away before resuming their conversation. Rodine and Venice did not seem to notice and were still excited from their victory in court.

“Told you sitting next to them wasn’t a good idea,” said Laura.

“Guess you were right,” replied Jack.

“Oh, man,” muttered Laura. “Venice ordered a beer. I want to go over there and tell her off.”

“And you thought sitting next to them would heat us up,” replied Jack. “Forget that idea.”

After three drinks each and an hour later, Rodine, Venice, and Westmount left the lounge. Jack was glad that neither man gave them a second look. His actions earlier hadn’t caused them concern.

Laura used her BlackBerry to call Connie. “Got ’em?” Laura asked.

“Ten-four,” replied Connie. “They meet anyone?”

“No. Jack and I will have to play catch-up.” As she spoke, Laura saw Jack go over to the bench that Westmount had been sitting on. Laura continued to talk to Connie and said, “We’ll call you when – oh, man!”

“What is it?” asked Connie.

Laura watched as Jack bent over and retrieved an object from under the bench.

“Laura? What’s wrong?” asked Connie.

“Uh … nothing. Almost broke a nail.”

By the time Jack and Laura returned to their car, Connie called to say that Rodine and Venice had said goodbye to Westmount and were getting in a car. The car was registered to a low-level drug trafficker in Richmond. Jack wondered if the car was “loaned” because the owner was behind on a drug payment. Not an uncommon practice in the drug business.

As Laura wheeled through traffic to catch up to the surveillance team, she said, “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

“Hear it?”

“Your voice-activated recorder. Smooth, I didn’t see you do it.”

“Taping Rodine without a judge’s order … Laura, I’m aghast. That would be illegal.”

“It would be illegal, anyway. Conversation with his lawyer is privileged.” She snapped, “Quit pretending! I saw you go back to where Westmount was sitting.”

“This is strictly between the two of us,” said Jack, as he took the recorder out of his jacket.

“It had better be,” said Laura seriously.

“We listen once and I erase it.”

“Erasing a problem is easier than burying it in a cemetery,” replied Laura.

Jack put his finger to his lips, gesturing to Laura to be quiet as he played back the recorder.

The first conversation they heard was Venice laughing as she said, “Well, do you think it’s time for me to give birth to an eight-pound pillow?”

“I would prefer if you waited until you were back in the car,” said Westmount. “I wouldn’t like to take a chance that we run into the judge or juror members when we leave.”

“If you insist,” giggled Venice. “How was my performance?”

“Outstanding,” said Westmount. “I’m tempted to hire you for other cases. Next time maybe you could babysit someone’s infant and bring it to court.”

“You think I’m that good?”

“You were really good, honey,” said Rodine.

“Cute touch on your part, too,” said Westmount, “by patting her stomach.”

Jack paused the recorder and said, “And you thought she was going to be a bad mother. Jumping to conclusions like that. Shame on you,” he said, with mock admonishment.

“I don’t know whether to be happy that she isn’t pregnant or angry at her deceit.”

Jack clicked the recorder back on. The rest of the conversation was uneventful up until Westmount ordered the bill from the waiter.

“Speaking of bills,” said Westmount, “do you want to pay me now? I never know where to send your invoice.”

“Tomorrow is Friday, which is delivery day for me,” replied Rodine. “I’ve got the ol’ cookie sheets full. Tomorrow morning I’ll bag and deliver. I can bring you the cash then.”

“I’ve got a trial scheduled for ten tomorrow morning,” replied Westmount.

“Not a problem. I’ll be on the road by six. Gotta have it delivered by eight. I could still make it to your office by nine.”

“Perfect,” replied Westmount. “I’ll give you the invoice then.”

“Wish the invoice really matched what I have been paying you,” grumbled Rodine.

“Hey, we talked about that. I’ve warned you that leaving a paper trail could put you in jeopardy if they ever go after you with a proceeds of crime investigation.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” chuckled Rodine. “You’re saving yourself from paying taxes.”

“Okay, so our partnership is of a mutual benefit. Besides, you’re a fine one to talk about paying taxes. At least I pay some.”

“I would pay taxes, but I’m still waiting for my T-4s to arrive.”

The conversation ended in laughter. Jack looked at Laura to see what she was thinking. Her smile said it all.

“We better not lose them,” said Jack.

“With the army that Connie has out?” replied Laura. “They better not. Too bad we can’t tell her what we heard.”

“Let her worry. I told her this case would take time.”

“As long as it’s not us doing time,” shot back Laura, with a nod toward the recorder in Jack’s hand.

The surveillance team followed Rodine and Venice to an older home in Burnaby. As the surveillance team waited, Connie got in the back seat of Jack and Laura’s car.

“Figure he might have a lab in there?” asked Connie.

“Time will tell,” replied Jack.

Over the next couple of hours, numerous people showed up and most were carrying in cases of beer and liquor.

“Celebrating his court case,” said Jack. “He won’t have a lab in there.”

“Christ, we need something,” said Connie. “You think we’d make a green light sooner or later. I’m getting sick of all these dead ends. What if he’s not even in the meth business anymore? Then what the hell —”

“Trust me,” said Jack. “He’s still in business.”

“You sound very confident,” said Connie, leaning forward in an attempt to see Jack’s face.

“Guys like this don’t quit,” he replied.

“Oh,” she said and sat back in the seat.

Over the next couple of hours a few more people arrived, but from the licence plates gathered, most appeared to be petty criminals or small-time drug traffickers.

At midnight Connie looked at her watch and said, “Guess there is no sense wasting manpower. I think I should call it off. With all the booze going in there, I bet he sleeps the day away tomorrow. I’ve still got a court brief I have to study tonight for a trial tomorrow morning. Maybe we can sit on Rodine again tomorrow night or the next day.”

“Uh … I’ve known some of these guys to be early risers,” said Jack.

“Really?” replied Connie. “Most of the criminals I know sleep until at least noon. What are you trying to pull?” she asked suspiciously. “Hoping to gaff a bunch of overtime?”

“No, I’m serious,” replied Jack. “With labs, sometimes certain chemicals have to be added at specific times. I think we should stay on him for at least forty-eight hours straight.”

“You shitting me?”

“Jack is right,” said Laura. Considering the time he spent in court, if he has a lab … and I’m sure he does, he’ll have to check it soon.”

“Put it this way,” said Jack. “Laura and I are going to sit on him all night, but it is your case. If he goes mobile and we lose him, it will be your fault.”

“Don’t you two ever sleep?” Connie asked.

“We take turns sleeping in the car,” replied Laura.

“Okay,” sighed Connie. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll leave two guys behind tonight and will put a full team back on at eight tomorrow morning. That good enough for you?”

“Guess it will have to be,” replied Jack reluctantly.

Connie got out of the car and closed the door, but paused before turning and knocking on Jack’s window. When he opened the window she leaned in to look at their faces. “Anything you’re not telling me?” she asked.

“Nope,” they both replied in unison.

“Yeah … that’s what I thought,” she said. “I’ll leave you four people instead of two.”

“Hope she never switches over to Internal,” said Jack, as they watched Connie walk away.

At six o’clock in the morning Jack reached into the back seat and shook Laura awake and said, “He’s out to the car. We’re about to be mobile,” he added, while reaching for the police radio to alert the others.

For the next half-hour, Rodine drove in and out of parking lots while constantly monitoring his rear-view mirror. Eventually he headed off and at seven o’clock he drove down an alley behind an older house in Burnaby and pulled up to an attached garage.

“Has to be the lab,” said Laura.

“Can’t see him driving in circles for any other reason,” replied Jack, while wiping the sleep from his eyes.

The police radio squawked again to announce that Connie had arrived at work. “I hear you guys are mobile. What’s going on?”

“He did a bunch of heat checks and we followed him to a dumpy old house in Burnaby. Close to the PW Brewery.”

“Think it’s a lab?”

“Good chance.”

“Did he switch vehicles like Varrick did?”

“No, but the car he’s driving isn’t registered to him.”

“I need grounds for a warrant. Can you smell anything indicating chemicals?”

“All I smell is the brewery.”

“My court case isn’t until ten. I’m on my way.”

Rodine was in the house half an hour before driving away. The surveillance team followed him to a six-level apartment building in White Rock and watched him park out front.

“Anybody able to go on foot and walk in with him?” radioed Connie.

Jack and Laura drove past the front of the building and Jack quickly grabbed the radio. “Cancel that,” he ordered. “There’s someone standing six in the lobby. Two more punks are walking out front. Everyone stay back.”

“What is this place?” asked Laura. “The Canadian Mint doesn’t have this much security.”

Jack didn’t respond as he was busy copying licence plates into his recorder as they drove down the block.

Seconds later, Rodine returned to his car, only to drive into the apartment’s underground parking garage. Five minutes later he drove back out onto the street and was followed to downtown Vancouver. After stopping at Basil Westmount’s office, he returned home.

Connie remained in Vancouver for her court case. It was later adjourned so she returned to where the surveillance team was parked at Rodine’s house. Connie got in the back seat of Jack and Laura’s car as Jack was calling in the licence plates he’d recorded from the apartment building.

Many of the plates were associated to gang members in The Brotherhood. Jack’s next call was to Dan Mylo in the Organized Crime Task Force who said that the apartment building was of particular interest. The apartment manager was a man by the name of Sy Sloan, who was the leader of one of the gangs.

“We think Sy controls the whole building as far as who is allowed to live there,” said Dan. “Sy is out of shape, but he is monstrous in size and looks intimidating. The apartment building is like a fort. He picks and chooses who lives there. You won’t get inside without them knowing. All the straight citizens have been driven out.”

“You have any wire on the occupants?” asked Jack.

“Not at the moment,” replied Dan. “Not enough grounds. If you can help us in that regard it would be much appreciated.”

“I think Rodine is delivering meth to someone in the apartment, but I don’t know who.”

“That’s the problem we’ve been having. We’ve had targets come and go, but once they’re inside that place, who knows what is going on or who they’re meeting,” said Dan.