Текст книги "Jack Taggart Mysteries 7 - Book Bundle"

Автор книги: Don Easton

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Текущая страница: 87 (всего у книги 141 страниц)

“We need an informant,” said Jack.

“That we do, my friend, that we do.”

Jack hung up and told Laura and Connie what he had learned.

“Figure Rodine is delivering meth to The Brotherhood?” asked Connie.

“Positive,” replied Jack. “My guess is he got paid for it and then went and paid his lawyer.”

“Think maybe we should bust him next time and see if he’ll talk?” suggested Connie.

“He won’t talk,” replied Jack. “There is no incentive. Not with what he would get in court. Satans Wrath would deal out a far worse punishment. Plus we don’t have grounds to stop and search him. His first call would be to Basil Westmount.”

“Maybe you could make a UC buy from him?”

“This guy is a cook, not the dealer. Besides, even if I did, there is no incentive strong enough for him to talk.”

“Isn’t there something we can do?”

“We should do surveillance on the apartment building,” said Jack. “Figure out who more of the players are. We could get lucky. Maybe Cocktail lives in the building or visits here.”

“If we get lucky … but then what? I need evidence. Bullshit gossip doesn’t stand up. Hang on, I’m calling PPSC to see what my chances are of getting a wire on Rodine.”

Connie spoke for several minutes with a Crown Prosecutor before hanging up. She was quick to the point. “Goddamn it! Goddamn it! God-damn it! He says I don’t have grounds for either a search warrant or a wire …” She drove her fist into the back of the seat and said, “Christ this is bullshit. We don’t even know if his place near the brewery is a lab.”

Jack made eye contact with Laura and stared silently at her as Connie complained. Laura paused for a moment before giving a subtle nod.

“We’re all tired,” said Jack. “Let’s go home early and reintroduce ourselves to our spouses.”

“The day has turned out pretty good,” said Laura. “We’ve discovered his lab and know what apartment building he is delivering it to.”

“We only think we’ve discovered his lab,” replied Connie. “And what good is that if Rodine won’t talk? We don’t even know if he knows Cocktail.”

“As I said,” repeated Jack, “we’re all tired. A few days of surveillance on Sy and his people could turn up something.” He turned and stared at Connie and said, “Trust me, we will come up with something. I’m nauseated from the reports rolling in every day on what meth is doing to people. A lot of innocents are getting hurt.”

“Hope you don’t think I’m blaming you,” said Connie. “I feel so frustrated. Maybe a good night’s sleep would help.”

It was two o’clock in the morning when Jack took the small leather case out of his jacket pocket. Laura, holding a flashlight, stood quietly as Jack picked the lock. When the door opened, they caught the strong smell of an odour that they knew did not come from the brewery. Seconds later, their sense of smell had been annihilated. It would be several hours before they would be able to smell again.

“Not healthy in here,” whispered Laura.

“I know. A quick peek and we’re gone.”

The first room was a kitchen with an old table and chrome chairs with ripped plastic seat cushions. Down the hall was a bedroom. The door was open and Jack could see a grubby mattress lying on the floor. Opposite the bedroom was another door that was closed. Laura shone her flashlight on the door and Jack saw a picture of a small animal.

“What’s that?” he said.

“It’s a picture of a hamster,” replied Laura. “Gee, it’s really cute.” Her mind came back to the reason they were there and she gestured to the door. “What do you think?”

“The lab room in Gabriel’s basement had something taped to the outside of the door,” said Jack. “About the same size. The room was also booby trapped.”

“You think the hamster is a terrorist?”

“I don’t know what the picture has to do with it. He does have beady eyes.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“He has whiskers.”

Laura snickered and said, “Well, one thing is for certain. You’ve convinced me not to open this door. From what we smelled when we first came in, we know the lab is here.”

“I’d feel better if I could see it,” replied Jack. “Go back and wait. I’ll be done in a second.”

“No! You come, too. I’m not bringing you home to Natasha in a garbage bag.”

Jack chuckled and said, “The booby trap was dismantled at Gabriel’s, but they left behind some eyehole screws above the door. I’m sure you can open the door a little to turn it off, but I want you to go.”

“I’ll stay and hold the light,” she replied.

“I’ll hold it in my mouth. Get out of here.”

“If you think it is safe enough for you, then it is safe enough for me.”

“You’re really stubborn, do you know that?” said Jack in exasperation.

“Must be contagious. Hurry and get it over with.”

“Okay, but at least stand to one side … and there won’t be any hurrying,” replied Jack, as he slowly turned the door knob. They both winced as the door clicked open a crack.

“I’m going to hold the door steady,” said Jack. “Shine the light at the top of the jamb.”

Laura did as instructed and Jack saw a slim metal lever extending up from the far side of the top of the door. He ran his fingers up the piece of metal and detected a strand of wire passing along the far side. He gently pushed on the side of the metal lever until it moved below the height of the wire. After exhaling audibly, he slowly pushed the door open.

The room contained the lab. The wire wound its way through a couple of eyehole screws to a large glass carboy filled with liquid. There were several benches containing glassware and numerous bottles of chemicals. A wooden rack contained numerous cookie sheets with traces of white powder. “Don’t think that was cookies he was making,” commented Laura.

“We’ve seen enough,” said Jack. “Too bad we have to keep this to ourselves.”

Over the next few days, the surveillance team discovered that Rodine would go to the meth lab during the day, only to return home at night where he and Venice would spend their time watching videos.

It was Thursday afternoon and a week had passed since Rodine had won his court case. As usual, Connie sat slumped in the back seat of Jack and Laura’s car where they were parked down the street from Rodine’s house. Her disposition had become grumpier as the days passed.

Occasional surveillance of The Brotherhood apartment building identified numerous criminals coming and going, including three prospects for Satans Wrath. Nobody had any name or occupation that would warrant the nickname of Cocktail. Jack believed that Rodine was the key and surveillance concentrated on him.

“He’s not meeting anyone,” said Connie. “At least no asshole by the name of Cocktail that we know of. Maybe we should follow the prospects from Satans Wrath.”

“Those guys are too well trained to lead us to Cocktail,” replied Jack. “Relax, I’ve got a plan to get an informant. Hopefully soon.”

“What? This is the first I’ve heard of it,” said Connie. “Who? How —”

“Who is on a need to know basis. Sorry, at the moment you don’t need to know. It would be better in court if you never knew.”

“I suspect there are a lot things where it would be better if I didn’t know about you two,” said Connie. “Dare I ask how you’re going to do it?”

Jack remained silent.

“Okay,” said Connie. “Never mind … just do it.”

After Connie left, Jack looked at Laura and said, “You free for a date with me tonight?”

“Sure. You buying dinner?”

“Only if you like baking soda.”

“You’ve piqued my curiosity. Who is this new informant?”

“Rodine … if he lives.”

Chapter Twelve

On Friday morning, the surveillance team watched Rodine make another trip to The Brotherhood apartment. Minutes later, he returned home.

“Nothing changes,” said Connie.

“Nice to confirm he has a schedule,” noted Jack. “You’re right, though. No use wasting manpower. Last Friday and Saturday he spent all day at home. Let’s break off the surveillance. I’m sure you have things to do and Laura and I need to do some things.”

“Things like working on getting an informant?” asked Connie, hopefully.

“Exactly.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ve got a ton of paperwork and an upcoming trial to prepare for. Call me if you need a hand.”

Jack and Laura drove away as Connie broke off her surveillance team.

“Thought you would want to stay around for the action,” said Laura.

“I want Connie to think we left. She’s too ethical. If the bikers realize they bought baking soda and show up and decide to torture and possibly kill him, I don’t want to take a chance on Connie putting a stop to it.”

“Good chance they might kill him.”

“I hope they don’t because we would need to find another informant, but if they do, it seems like a fair punishment for running a meth lab.”

“I agree, so don’t be hauling out any pictures of Faith in the hospital or something. I couldn’t stand it.”

“I don’t have any.”

“Only because you knew I would be on board with this. Rodine’s girlfriend is in there. It could be a double murder. Did you think of that?”

“She put herself into this. If you fly with the crows —”

“If they’re both killed, Connie will blame us.”

“Act surprised … show concern … deny, deny, deny. It was an unfortunate coincidence that we broke off surveillance.”

“She won’t believe that for a second.”

“I know, but she won’t be able to prove anything.”

Minutes later, Jack and Laura returned and parked where they could watch the front of Rodine’s house with binoculars.

The hours slowly ticked by. Once, Venice, wearing a pink tank top and skin-tight blue jeans over her thin figure, strolled outside and picked some flowers growing near the house and went back inside.

Late in the afternoon a black SUV arrived and three prospects from Satans Wrath got out and approached the house.

“Showtime,” said Jack. He was unable to see who answered the door, but he did see one of the bikers deliver a fist to the person’s face before all three disappeared inside.

“Ouch,” said Laura, watching through her own set of binoculars. “No hello, how are you, nothing …”

Twenty-five minutes passed before the three bikers left the house and drove away.

“They left Rodine and Venice in the house,” noted Laura. “Maybe a good sign.”

“That and they didn’t light the house on fire. I’m betting things went according to plan.”

Minutes later, the front door opened and Rodine limped out onto the porch landing.

“Broken nose,” commented Jack, looking at the blood streaming down the front of Rodine’s shirt. “Holding his side … maybe broken or cracked ribs.”

“Heading for his car,” said Laura.

“Oh, crap,” interjected Jack sadly, more to himself than Laura.

“What?”

“Check the porch … Venice came out … she wants him to stay.”

Laura focused back on the porch. She saw why Jack was distressed. Venice clutched a bathrobe to her naked body. She had received more than a beating.

Jack and Laura followed Rodine as he drove back to his lab.

“Rush order, I bet,” said Laura.

“Will take a couple of days,” replied Jack. “Starting Sunday we’ll check every night.”

“We’re taking tomorrow off? I won’t know what to do,” teased Laura.

“Do you remember Ngoc Bích?”

“Of course. Your Vietnamese friend. Isn’t the trial coming up soon on the two brothers who owned the brothels?”

“It got moved to June 15. The same day I’m scheduled to testify in Victoria against Cory McCall.”

“It will be good to put McCall away. Sounds like you and Ngoc Bích will have something to celebrate that day, as well.”

“Hope there are no more adjournments with Ngoc Bích.”

“How has she been doing?”

“She’s a bit like a wounded bird, but is slowly getting it together. Good days and bad. She’s been enrolled in music lessons since we rescued her. She plays a flute.”

“Probably therapeutic,” said Laura.

“Tomorrow she is giving a free performance in Stanley Park at noon.”

“Elvis and I will be there,” said Laura.

“Natasha and I were going to bring a picnic lunch.”

“Sounds good. I’ll give Natasha a call after and we can figure out what to bring.”

The following morning, Jack walked out of the shower and saw Natasha lying naked in bed with a sheet pulled up to the bottom of her navel. She was performing her monthly ritual of doing a self-examination of her breasts as she carefully checked for any lumps.

“Wish you would teach me how to help you with that,” said Jack, marvelling at how beautiful she looked.

Natasha looked up at him and said, “I did try to teach you once. As I recall, you became sidetracked.”

“Sometimes I have a hard time with concentration.”

Natasha continued her exam, but quit a moment later and said, “Quit staring at me! I can’t concentrate.”

“I bet you’re remembering the last time I tried to help you,” said Jack, teasingly.

Natasha paused, furrowing her forehead as if trying to remember, before saying, “That was a long time ago.” She smiled and said seductively, “My memory could use refreshing.”

Jack felt the blood pulse to his groin. No further invitation was needed.

Later that afternoon, Jack and Natasha and Laura and Elvis sat on a blanket in Stanley Park and listened to Ngoc Bích play her flute.

“She plays beautifully,” commented Natasha, sitting with her back pressed up against Jack’s chest.

Jack wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the back of her neck. The day was captured in his memory as one of the most beautiful he’d ever had.

When Ngoc Bích was finished, she joined them for the picnic and received a bouquet of red roses as a gift from Jack and Natasha. The afternoon was warm, sunny, and peaceful. Jack was glad that Ngoc Bích did not discuss the upcoming trial scheduled for the following month. Everyone needed the break.

Sunday morning came and Jack read the newspaper. He wished he hadn’t. An article reported a young man being randomly attacked outside a grocery store by four guys who slashed his face with a knife. The attackers were alleged to be high on meth.

“Something wrong?” asked Natasha. “You’re frowning.”

Jack sighed and said, “Laura and I hope to turn an informant this week. The guy runs a meth lab. If he co-operates, I’m going to have to allow him to continue running his lab. At least for a while.”

“For the greater good, I presume. The big picture.”

Jack smiled, despite how he felt. “You sound like Laura.”

“Maybe we sound like you.”

“Maybe,” said Jack, tossing the paper aside.

“Yesterday was really a perfect day,” said Natasha. “Romantic.”

Jack smiled. It had been good to see how far Ngoc Bích had recovered from her months of torture. The delay in the trial only gave her time to get stronger. He knew she was looking forward to her day in court and confronting the monsters responsible.

His thoughts turned to Faith and he knew there was another monster to catch.

Chapter Thirteen

Kent Rodine’s next batch of methamphetamine was on the drying racks Tuesday night. At seven o’clock Wednesday morning he returned to his lab and used the privacy of the garage to load the kilos of meth into the trunk of his car. As he raised the garage door to leave, a man with a gun shoved him violently against his chest, knocking him back onto the trunk of the car. At the same time, another car pulled in and parked in the driveway.

Seconds later, Rodine was handcuffed and sprawled over the hood of his car. He watched sullenly as Jack opened the trunk and retrieved one of the kilos. Laura, standing with her pistol pointed at the base of Rodine’s neck, quietly stepped back as Jack approached.

“Got some good news and some bad news for you, Kent,” said Jack. “Bad news is we’re seizing all the dope from your car. Good news is we’re not going to arrest you. You might want to start thinking of an excuse to your friends to explain how you lost the dope.”

“What? You can’t do that! You have to arrest me!”

“Why? It isn’t like you would get any real time and it means a bunch of paperwork for us. Kind of a nuisance, really.”

“No, you don’t understand,” said Rodine. “These people … they’re not my … they wouldn’t understand or believe … they … last week … Christ, man, you gotta bust me.”

“We are not going to arrest you, that I can promise,” said Jack.

“They’ll kill me,” he pleaded.

“I know. I simply don’t care.”

“Why? Why me? This ain’t right!” he cried.

“Jack, it really isn’t right that we don’t give him a chance first,” said Laura. “He doesn’t seem like that bad or stupid of a person. Maybe he would want to co-operate with us. Tell us stuff so we could catch enough people to make it worthwhile.”

“I, I can’t do that either,” whined Rodine. “Without the dope they would kill me, anyway. You don’t understand. Last week something went wrong. Someone must’ve cut the shit after I delivered it. The bi– … these guys I work for, they think I tried to rip them off. They came over and kicked the shit out of me. Then tied me to a chair and made me watch as they took turns fuckin’ my girlfriend every which way —”

“I don’t care and I don’t feel like listening to all this bullshit,” said Jack.

“It’s not bullshit!” Rodine stopped talking and his mouth hung open for a moment as he looked back and forth at Jack and Laura. His eyes settled on Jack and his voice turned pleading. “I’d help ya. Believe me, I’d help ya … but I can’t. You gotta bust me. Please.”

“Maybe he would be a suitable candidate for Witness Protection,” suggested Laura.

“No,” cried Rodine. “If you put me in Witness Protection, they know where my folks live and my brother’s and sister’s families. They’d whack them if they couldn’t find me. And if they did find me, last week would be a picnic compared to what they would do next time. No, you gotta bust me. It’s the only way I’ll stay alive. I’ve been working my ass off these last few days. Started the second batch going before this one was done. It was dangerous as shit in there.”

“What if you help us and we let you keep the dope and keep making it?” said Jack.

“You would do that?” replied Rodine with a glimmer of hope.

“Only if you’re absolutely honest with us about everything … do exactly what we tell you and keep us in the loop. When I figure you’ve paid your debt, you’ll be cut loose.”

“But if you bust these guys they’ll know it was me. I can’t take a chance that —”

“I will make you a promise that we will never do anything to burn you,” replied Jack.

Rodine paused and said, “It ain’t exactly like I got a choice, is it?”

“You could be a hero and kill yourself,” said Jack, indifferently. “It might spare your girlfriend.”

“I ain’t no hero. What do you want to know?”

“Everything. Start from the beginning since your last bust. Who do you sell to and who do you get your chemicals and glassware from?”

“Will you take the cuffs off me?”

Seconds later, Rodine sat on the hood of the car with one hand holding his rib cage.

“Did these guys break your ribs?” asked Jack.

Rodine nodded and said, “Broken or cracked. Either way they hurt like hell every time I take a breath.”

“Tell us who attacked you last week.”

Rodine paused, grimaced and looked at Jack and said, “There were three of ’em. Bikers with Satans Wrath. Well, either with them or workin’ for them. I only know them as Croaker, Hamburger, and Chugger.”

“How long have you been hanging out with Satans Wrath?”

“I don’t really hang out with them. I just work for them. I got connected with them about three years ago. Then two years ago I got busted in a lab … but I beat the case.” Rodine looked at Jack and said, “Guess you already know that?”

Jack nodded.

“Yeah, well shortly after that bust, I was approached by a guy by the name of Herm. He’s in tight with Satans Wrath. Has been for years. He got busted on the same day in a different lab.”

“What’s Herm’s last name?” asked Jack.

“I’m not sure. Something like Warwick.”

“How about Varrick?”

“Varrick?… Yeah, that’s it. He taught me how to set up a proper lab. It was like taking a course. Meth 101. Varrick followed written instructions. A step-by-step document.”

“So Varrick is the brains behind everything?” asked Laura.

“Naw. He isn’t that smart,” replied Rodine. “He was trained by someone he calls the Grandmaster Cocktail.”

“The Grandmaster Cocktail?” asked Jack, trying to sound only slightly interested. He also realized Rodine was still taking about Varrick in the present tense and did not know he was dead.

“Yeah, or just Cocktail, as he usually refers to him. Cocktail knows how to make the purest form of meth going and do it real professional-like.”

“Interesting,” said Jack, trying not to let his excitement show. “Tell us everything you know about Cocktail and then work down from there.”

“I’m told Cocktail is an expert at making other stuff, too, like ecstasy and GHB, but I only make meth. Other labs make the other stuff.”

“GHB,” said Jack in disgust. “Gamma-hydroxybutyrate. Better known as the date rape drug. So who is this guy?”

“I’ve never met him. Varrick said Cocktail originally approached him after the last bust because he read his name in the paper and happened to know where he lived. Cocktail had some smart ideas and a business plan. He knew all about how to make dope and also had access to all the right chemicals. He wanted Varrick to introduce him to someone from Satans Wrath.”

“So Varrick did that?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, but there’s more. Cocktail also knew names of guys connected with The Brotherhood. His idea was to get the bikers and The Brotherhood to work together and expand sales. Cocktail didn’t want to deal with The Brotherhood directly.”

“How come?” asked Jack.

“From what Varrick told me, Cocktail knew who a lot of ’em were, but didn’t want ’em to know he was involved. A lot of The Brotherhood members are kids … teenagers. He was afraid they would blab. He knew the bikers wouldn’t.”

“Sounds like Cocktail isn’t stupid,” said Jack.

“Not according to Varrick. He says the guy is a real brain. Like a scientist. At first Varrick was skeptical of the idea that the bikers would get involved with a bunch of kids or guys who were still in their twenties. Cocktail said they weren’t all that young and gave him Sy’s name.”

“Sy?” repeated Laura.

“Yeah. Sy is the guy I deliver to. He’s boss of one of the gangs in The Brotherhood. Anyway, to get the ball rollin’, Cocktail agreed to go with Varrick and run the idea past Sy, who jumped at the chance. Then Varrick took Cocktail to meet with the bikers who also liked the idea. The bikers brought Cocktail in under their wing and made inroads into The Brotherhood through Sy. After that, Cocktail developed a training course. Varrick said Cocktail taught him and the rest is history.”

“Where is Varrick’s lab?” asked Jack.

“I dunno. Never been there. Lab locations are kept real secret. Varrick did mention it’s in the basement of some woman’s daycare, though.”

“Cocktail knew it was a daycare?” asked Jack.

“Oh, yeah. That was like Step One in Meth 101. Location. The first time, Cocktail rented a place with a fake driver’s licence he got from the bikers and used a cover story of a Janitorial Supply Company. Guess he proved himself because the bikers were impressed. After that, the bikers used other guys to rent places.”

“Cocktail didn’t care that it was a daycare?” asked Laura.

“Naw. The thing is, it’s close to an industrial area. Cocktail told Varrick to try and put a lab in an area that would help hide the smell.” Rodine gestured with his hand and said, “It’s no accident that this place is close to the brewery. Varrick said Cocktail laughed about the daycare and joked that a bunch of tots crappin’ their pants would also help hide the smell.”

“I take it, Cocktail doesn’t care about kids getting cancer,” said Jack coldly.

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I think most of the labs are in rented spots. Nobody wants to use their own place. When I work in the lab I usually wear a mask.”

“Aren’t you the smart one,” said Jack, knowing the cheap paper masks he previously saw inside would do little to stop the carcinogenic fumes from entering his lungs.

“Yeah, thanks,” replied Rodine, not realizing Jack was being sarcastic. “Anyway, Step Two is setting the lab up the proper way and learning how to make the shit. Cocktail taught that to Varrick who then taught others, including me.”

Rodine paused as Jack jotted down some notes, before continuing, “Oh, yeah, all the labs are booby trapped as per Cocktail’s instructions. Wrong person enters and the whole place goes up in a big fireball. It will destroy all evidence and whoever enters, as well.”

“Like a cop,” said Laura.

“Yeah, or someone trying to rip us off. I can take ya inside and show ya, if you like?”

“Later. Is there a Step Three?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, the most important step. Marketing. We hand a percentage off to Satans Wrath, but also flood the high schools, universities, and colleges with the shit at bargain-basement prices. That’s why it’s nice to have an in with The Brotherhood. Most are the right age and in school.”

“Why sell so low?” asked Laura.

“So they get hooked. When they graduate and get good jobs the price will go up.”

“That’s if the dope doesn’t cause them to flunk out,” said Jack.

“Yeah, there’s always that possibility,” agreed Rodine.

“Any other steps?” asked Jack.

“That’s about it. At least how Varrick laid it out to me. Satans Wrath liked the marketing idea, as well. They distribute the chemicals they get from Cocktail and get a cut of all the action, plus a percentage of all the dope. I don’t know how big of a percentage. Sy looks after that.”

“Do you deal with any of the bikers direct?” asked Jack.

“Not normally. Things have changed since the last time we were busted. Different bikers for contact with different labs. Even then, the bikers usually use a go-between and rarely have anything to do with the cooks … unless they want to beat the shit out of someone,” he added ruefully. “Sy manages an apartment complex. All of the tenants in there work for him in one way or another. That’s who I deliver to.”

“But Cocktail and Sy know each other,” said Jack.

“Only sort of.”

“Sort of?” questioned Jack.

“Cocktail knew who Sy was, but, according to Sy, hadn’t met the guy before then. Still doesn’t know his real name. It was Varrick who first started calling him Cocktail. Sy likes to brag a lot about who he knows and his connections with Satans Wrath, but he is tight-lipped about Cocktail. He knows what the bikers will do to him if he ever spilled the beans.”

“Does Sy still meet with Cocktail?” asked Jack.

“I don’t think so. The bikers act as the go-between. They taught Sy how to be really careful, like using laptops and other people’s wireless signals to communicate through chat rooms. On rare occasions, he’ll text a coded message on his BlackBerry, but you’ll never get him talking about anything on the phone. Doesn’t even talk in his apartment. If something needs saying, he takes you for a walk down the hall. Sy has lots of people he deals to. Even his half-brother, Tommy, is the main supplier for his school.”

“School!” noted Jack. “How old is Sy?”

“I think thirty-two. Tommy is seventeen.”

“What school does Tommy go to?” asked Jack.

“Queen Elizabeth Secondary in Surrey. He still lives at home with his mom and Sy’s dad.”

Jack and Laura glanced at each other. Crime Stoppers had received several tips about dealers in that school.

Jack looked at Rodine and continued. “How many labs are Satans Wrath getting a percentage from?”

“I don’t know. Lots. I do know it ain’t wise to try and rip them. Not even a little bit, ’cause either the solutions wouldn’t add up or it would have to be diluted. When they were beating on me they said I diluted it with baking soda. I told them I wasn’t stupid enough to try and rip them. The fuckin’ bastards. I trust Sy, so it had to be one of the bikers who ripped me.”

“You said the solutions wouldn’t add up if someone was ripping them off?” asked Jack.

“Do you know the main cook we had when we got busted with all those labs last time?”

“Yes.”

“Cocktail examined the records that the police turned over to his defence lawyer. From all the empty chemical containers the cops seized, Cocktail calculated that more dope was being made than the bikers knew about.”

“So Satans Wrath were being short-changed on their percentage,” said Jack.

“Exactly. Varrick told me the cook took a long time to die.”

“His body was found in an alley,” said Jack. Seeing the nervous look on Rodine’s face, he quickly changed the subject and said, “So basically, a network of labs has been set up, with the original training, expertise, and chemicals coming from some guy by the name of Cocktail.”

Rodine paused for a moment, reflecting upon the situation he found himself in, and what the future would hold if the bikers found out.

“Trust us,” said Jack. “We will never do anything to divulge who you are. Never. So answer our questions.”

Rodine swallowed, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Yeah, we follow Cocktail’s instructions like he’s the great guru. Varrick and Zack run their own lab. Me, I gotta do it myself. Varrick gets the chemicals from Cocktail and passes them on to the bikers for delivery. Find Varrick and Zack and you’ll find Cocktail.”

“Is there anybody else you know who deals with Cocktail?” asked Jack.

“No, except for the bikers, I think Varrick is the only one who knows who Cocktail really is and the only guy who acts as a go-between for Cocktail and the bikers. Satans Wrath don’t want anyone to know that Cocktail is associated with them. The odd time, like maybe once or twice a year if Cocktail can’t get all the right chemicals, we sometimes have to change the formula. When that happens, Varrick gets his instructions from Cocktail. Sometimes the new stuff is checked out on a couple of kids to see if they croak or anything. If everything is okay, then Varrick passes on the new recipe to the rest of us.”

“Cocktail is the head chef and the rest of you are like the sous chefs,” said Laura.

“What’s a sous chef?”

“Never mind,” replied Jack. “Do you know if any kids have died from the experiments?”

“Varrick once told me that a couple have. I don’t know who. Varrick is who you guys should be watchin’ if you want to get a handle on everything.”

“Varrick and Zack are dead,” said Jack. “Both died of a drug overdose two months ago.”

“Yeah? Those dumb shits. I wonder what they cranked up?”

“Heroin,” replied Jack.

“Stupid bastards. I thought they were smarter than that. Sell dope, don’t use it.”