Above Ground (28 page)

“Asking me to do my job is not putting me in the middle. I do what I think is right — just like Elvis does.”

“Would he think hiding The Toad's body is right?”

“Of course not, but that is not your concern. Let me deal with that. I'm still not sure if that was right either, but I did see your point. If you arrested anyone, you would have burned Lance and that much cash would never remain a secret.”

“Please, never use his name.”

“Sorry ... your friend. Speaking of which, I hope he's not a
good
friend of yours.”

Jack smiled and then replied, “He's disposed of a few bodies, but I didn't help.”

“What's his motive? Staying out of jail?”

“He tried to murder me once ... thought I was a dope dealer ratting out to the cops.”

“And you let him off the hook for that?”

Jack nodded. “It was worth it. Now he's president of the west-side chapter.”

“Meaning you ... we ... have to dance around a lot of grey areas with him. At least we do if we want to know what is going on.”

“Exactly.”

“Little things, like hiding corpses and that.”

Jack smiled. “Sounds like you're a natural for this work.”

Laura massaged her forehead with her hand and then looked across the room at the waitress and yelled, “Leisa! Another round, please!”

It was late Monday night in Mexico when the RCMP liaison officer met with the police officer and showed him pictures of Jack and Natasha. Yes, he was positive it was them. There was absolutely no doubt.

Communications in Third World countries are not up to the standards of other places on the planet, but the LO's report would still arrive on Isaac's desk before noon tomorrow.

Early Tuesday morning, Jack embraced Natasha warmly before reluctantly pulling away.

“Don't worry,” he whispered. “Everything will be okay.”

Natasha used the cuff of her sleeve to wipe away her tears. “I'm scared,” she said.

“I'll call you as soon as I know anything. If you're questioned, remember what happened.”

“But details,” she said, “what if I'm asked about little things?”

Jack faked a smile and said, “That's where the tequila comes in. How can they expect you to remember anything about our honeymoon? Other than that I was the best lay you ever had!”

Natasha smiled in spite of her fears. “You're such a turkey!”

Jack arrived at work and listened to his voice mail. Louie had a doctor's appointment and would not be in until later. He had barely put the phone down when he was approached by Staff Sergeant Legg from the Anti-Corruption Unit.

“Come with me,” said Legg.

“Why?” asked Jack. “I haven't had my coffee yet.”

“My instructions come from Isaac. Forget having coffee!”

Jack was taken to an interrogation room consisting of a small table pressed against a wall and three chairs seated in a semicircle around the front of the table. Randy Otto was already in the room.

“Bosses from I-HIT and Anti-Corruption,” said Jack. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Take a seat,” said Randy.

Jack grabbed a chair and swung it around, then sat facing over the back of the chair. Randy and Legg exchanged glances, then sat down facing him.

“I take it you want me to assist you with something important?”

“Drop the act,” said Legg. “You know why you're here!”

“Actually, I don't,” replied Jack. “I did, however, spot one of your cars following my wife Saturday afternoon. Would you care to explain? Is she a Russian agent?”

“Jack, this isn't a game,” said Randy. “It's serious. Isaac has taken a personal interest. Do yourself a favour — drop the comedy act.”

“Sorry, Randy. Bad habit. I use humour to alleviate stress.”

“Have you been meeting Damien?” asked Legg.

“You know I have. He was with me in the park on Saturday when you followed Natasha.”

Legg looked frustrated and said, “Just for the record. I wanted you to say it.”

“Sorry. Yes is the answer.”

“Why?” continued Legg.

“It's highly confidential.”

“Believe me,” said Randy, “Isaac has given us full authority to hear about anything you're involved in.”

Jack nodded, looking pensive as he reflected upon this information. Then he answered, “I'm trying to turn him into an informant.”

“Yeah, right,” said Legg sarcastically. “Why was your wife meeting him?”

“She was picking something up from him. In the cooler he handed her.”

“Which was?” asked Legg.

“He had been to her clinic a few days ago. He was told to come back and give her some sort of specimen. When he mentioned that he knew me, Natasha told me about it. I didn't like the idea of him meeting my wife alone. I made him hand the specimen over to her when I was around.”

“What kind of specimen?”

“You would have to ask my wife about that. She wouldn't tell me. Doctor-client privilege was all she would say.”

“You were seen looking in the cooler,” said Legg.

Jack sighed, then said, “You're right. I did.” He paused and said, “I know I'm in trouble.”

Legg hid his satisfaction.
He's folding already.

“Please don't tell my wife,” continued Jack. “I was just curious. I think it was a stool sample, but I'm not sure. She'll be mad as hell if she thinks I was snooping into her business.”

Randy let out a soft chuckle, bringing him a glare from Legg.

“I used the park as an excuse to talk to him while waiting for Natasha. It was a good opportunity to build trust and get him to confide in me.”

“Bullshit!” said Legg. “You don't turn the top guy of Satans Wrath! That's who you want to nail! You turn informants to catch him!”

Jack looked surprised, then said, “Oh! Is that how it's supposed to work?” He pointed his finger at Legg and said, “Perhaps
you
would think that. Not coming from an intelligent background ... oops, Freudian slip ... I mean from an Intelligence background.” Jack paused when Randy frowned, then said, “Sorry. I do understand how you might think that.”

“I think that because it's true!” said Legg, harshly.

“If it's true, then why was I meeting with him?”

“You're working for him!”

“Working for him?” said Jack, as his eyes widened. “I'm shocked that you would jump to that conclusion. Absolutely aghast! Mortified to think that you would accuse me of that! There is no way that —”

Legg pounded his fist on the table and said, “Think I haven't seen this routine before? Act surprised, show concern, deny, deny, deny!”

Jack leaned back and slowly shook his head while staring down at the floor.

“Think about it, Jack,” said Randy, “do you really expect us to believe that you could get the national president of Satans Wrath to turn on his own club?”

“His own club? Damien would never do that!” said Jack.

“Precisely!” said Legg.

“It's the Indos he's concerned about,” said Jack. “I was suggesting to him that it's in our mutual interest for the police to arrest them.”

“That's enough,” said Legg. “I tried to be good to you. Give you a chance to come clean. A chance to use your head and make yourself look a little better. Maybe even show some remorse. Hell, who knows? A murder beef could even be dropped down to manslaughter if you played your cards right.”

“Murder? What on earth are you talking about?”

“We've got a surprise for you,” retorted Legg. “Mexico! You've been identified! The LO left us a message. His report should be arriving any minute.”

“I don't understand,” said Jack.

“Don't you think we figured out that Damien told you where Bishop was hiding?” said Legg. “You killed Bishop while you were on your honeymoon. Now Damien owns you!”

“You're wrong! It was just a coincidence that I was in the country at all!”

Legg ignored Jack's denial as he continued, “And you show up at the motel on Saturday morning with a bullshit story that an informant told you about The Toad and a huge dope deal!”

“Well, that part is true. I did go to the motel. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing with you is true! Who's your informant? I need a name and an address now!” said Legg, sliding a writing pad across the table.

“I don't disclose the names of my informants!”

“You will if you don't want me to read you your rights and put you in jail now!”

Jack glared at Legg for a moment, then grabbed the notepad and scribbled a name and address before tossing the pad into Legg's lap.

Legg looked at the name. “This is it? A first name and an apartment address? What's the phone number?”

“Doesn't have one.” Jack looked at both men and said, “Check it out. Take CC from Homicide. She'll verify it.”

“Yeah? Well you can sit here until I do!” said Legg. He left Randy in the room with Jack and went to another room and called Connie Crane.

“Don't know anything about it,” said Connie. “If Jack thinks I'll lie for him, he's mistaken!”

“Could it be an alias? Maybe somebody you used to deal with?” asked Legg.

“Possible, but I've never handled a source with Jack. I'm kind of busy right now.”

“Isaac wants this done now. Are you going to tell him you're too busy?”

Seconds later, Connie hurried from her office to meet Legg.

Pussy Paul and Rellik arrived at Damien's estate as ordered. It was raining and both men soon wished they had brought umbrellas. Damien was the only one who had one as they strolled along the manicured path that led past the koi pond in his backyard.

“What did you find out?” Damien asked Pussy Paul.

“He should be in court all day. Up until about four.”

“Good,” replied Damien. “Meet him at the courthouse as soon as he's finished. Tell him we have a new source in the prosecutor's office. Tell him we know that the cops have a tap on him ... including payphones.”

“The fucking pigs are buggin' our lawyer?” said Rellik.

“No,” replied Damien. “I think Leitch is two-timing us. He might be doing something with The Toad.”

“The fucking Toad!” said Rellik. “I've still got guys at the bus depot.”

“Cancel them, except for two. I doubt he'll show, but if he does ... make sure he's taken care of.”

Rellik nodded.

“It's possible that Leitch is using a go-between. Some dark guy with a British accent. Bait him,” said Damien, directing his order at Pussy Paul. “Tell him our rat at the prosecutor's read something to indicate it involved a meeting he had with the guy in a park. Then leave.”

“Got it,” said Pussy Paul.

Damien pointed his finger at Rellik and said, “Have your team standing by. If he meets The Toad or anyone who fits the description of the other guy, grab 'em.”

Rellik made a motion with his hand, imitating firing a pistol.

“Not yet. I'll want to talk to them personally. Someplace private,” said Damien.

“Wet Willy's?” suggested Rellik.

Damien nodded and said, “That will do.”

“Should I bring a talking stick?”

Damien was silent for a moment. The thought of it churned his stomach ... but then an image of Vicki's finger came to mind. He looked at Rellik and said, “Do what you have to do.”

Legg knocked on the apartment door while Connie Crane stood to one side, keeping an eye on a couple of junkies who entered a room farther down the corridor.

“You sure this is the right place?” asked Connie.

Legg rechecked the piece of paper from his pocket and said, “This is what Taggart wrote.”

A moment later, someone was heard moving around inside and Legg knocked again. Eventually the door opened as much as the chain lock would allow.

Connie caught a glimpse of the woman who stared back at them. She wore fishnet nylon stockings, small satin shorts that allowed the cheeks of her ass to hang out, and a tube top that advertised her nipples.

“Vice?” she croaked. “What the fuck do you want?”

Legg shook his head and said, “Not Vice. RCMP. Are you Ophelia?”

She nodded.

“We'll make it brief,” continued Legg. “If you don't want to come with us, then just talk to us now. Will take less than a minute. Do you know Jack Taggart?”

The hooker paused, then quickly closed the door.

Legg looked at Connie and was about to ask what they should do when he heard the chain being removed. Then Ophelia opened the door and glanced nervously down the hallway.

“Yeah, I know Jack,” she tried to whisper, but her voice was raspy and it still sounded loud. “But tell him I'm not working for him anymore. The jerk said he'd never tell anyone.”