Above Ground (3 page)

“I'll talk with Connie,” said Jack.

“Are you a policeman?” asked Jenny.

“Yes,” replied Jack. He tried to smile at the child but felt awkward to be smiling in front of Holly.

“My name's Jenny. What's your name?”

“I should be going,” said Jack, looking at Holly. He stood up.

“I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name,” said Holly.

Jack took a deep breath and then let it out as he sat down again. “My name is Jack Taggart.”

Holly shook her head and said, “No, I asked you what
your
name is.”

Jack swallowed, and then explained that Jack Taggart was his name, too.

“That's my daddy's name,” said Jenny. “That's funny!” She laughed and then said, “Isn't that funny, Mommy?”

Jack looked at Holly and said, “I don't work on Homicide. I work on an intelligence section dealing with organized crime. Corporal Crane called me to tell me about your husband. She thinks he may have been murdered as a result of mistaken identity.”

“Oh,” Holly said, and then stared past him down the hall. Jack wrote his own phone numbers down for her, including his cell, his office, and his home phones.

“If there is anything, anything at all, that I can do for you. Please ... please call me.”

Holly nodded and gave a perfunctory smile before slipping the information into her purse.

Jack saw the counsellor watching from across the hall and spoke with her as he was leaving.

“I'm a policeman,” he said. “Where's her family? Why isn't someone here?”

“Jenny and Charlie are her only family now. Neither she nor her husband had siblings. Her husband's parents are in a nursing home and her own parents died several years ago.”

“Neighbours? Someone?”

“I asked. She said she didn't live in the sort of neighbourhood that was conducive to making friends. Sounds like she didn't have the time or the money to go out. She was either waitressing in a coffee shop or looking after her children while her husband went to school.”

“There has to be somebody!”

“Apparently not. I'll watch her. She won't be going anywhere as long as her son is in OR.”

“And if he doesn't make it?”

The counsellor bit her bottom lip and didn't reply.

Jack reached for his wallet and said, “If that happens, please call me. I'll help.” He gave her his business card and included all his numbers.

Jack was just leaving the hospital when he met Connie Crane coming in.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Jack looked at her and said, “That sounds familiar. Think you've asked me that before.”

“I did on another investigation, and you didn't mind your own business then, either.”

“I just wanted to see her. See what she looked like.” “Did you?”

Jack nodded.

“No tattoos,” said Connie. “No weathered face. If her makeup wasn't smeared all over she would look like what I think she is.”

“How's that?”

“Innocent!”

Jack sighed. “That's my read too.”

“So I'm just having a hard time believing your crap that it's all a coincidence. I want names. Who do you suspect?”

“That's just it, I don't suspect anyone.”

“You take down a bunch of Satans Wrath labs today and think it's all a coincidence?”

“They know me. They also know Natasha and they know we don't have any children. It's not them. I have a good source. If it turns out to be some low-level punks working the bottom end of the labs, I'll find out.”

“These guys were professional. Cold and calculating. They shot him in the heart first. Didn't care that he was holding his baby. That's when his wife and daughter showed up. Then they stepped forward and shot him in the back of the head. After that, they just turned and walked away. These were no punks. These bastards have killed before.”

“It still could be a coincidence. Completely unrelated to me.”

“Could be, but I want you to think about it. Tomorrow morning I want a list of possibilities. After that, keep your head low and butt out this time!”

“If this isn't personal, that is exactly what I intend to do.”

“And if it is?”

Jack turned on his heel and walked away.

It was nine o'clock in the morning when Staff Sergeant Luigi “Louie” Grazia strode across the carpeted floor in Assistant Commissioner Isaac's office and then stopped in front of his desk, waiting for him to look up.

For management purposes, the Royal Canadian Mounted Police was broken down into four regions Canada-wide: Atlantic, Central, North West, and Pacific. Assistant Commissioner Isaac was the criminal operations officer who oversaw all the operational investigations in the Pacific Region.

Louie knew that Isaac deserved the respect that went with his position. He was a shrewd and tireless worker. He could quote policy and legal matters to the point that Louie wondered if it was true that he had a photographic memory. Isaac was also unbending when it came to policy — something that made Louie uncomfortable. His section tended to have many grey areas
when it came to what was right or wrong.
Well, actually some things are clearly wrong...

Eventually Isaac glanced up and said, “How long have you been in charge of Intelligence, Louie?”

There were three leather upholstered chairs facing Isaac's desk, but he did not gesture for Louie to sit so he remained standing. “Coming up ten years, sir,” replied Louie casually, trying to get a read on Isaac's disposition. As usual, Isaac's face revealed nothing.

“Still plan on retiring this coming summer?”

“Yes, sir. I'll have my thirty-five years in this July.”

Isaac nodded before continuing. “What can you tell me about this Taggart matter? Is the Jack Taggart who works for you the target of someone who wants to kill him?”

“Not that I know of, sir. I-HIT is investigating. I spoke with Jack and he thinks it might all be a coincidence.”

“I want I-HIT, you, and Taggart in my office in one hour for a meeting.”

“Yes, sir. I'll arrange it.”

Damien, at fifty-three years of age, had done well for someone who had started out with nothing. His home, protected from view by a stone wall, was situated on an estate in one of the most prestigious areas of Vancouver. From the street, one could see only the roof, which was peppered with satellite dishes and antennas. Closed-circuit television cameras mounted in strategic locations outside led to a fortified panic room inside the mansion. A large cast iron gate, electronically controlled, blocked the entrance to the driveway. Damien did not become national president of Satans Wrath Motorcycle Club by being careless ... or weak.

Damien sat at his kitchen table and read the newspaper. It was a quiet time of the day that he enjoyed. His wife, Vicki, who was thirty-five, had borne him three children. Buck was thirteen, and his two sisters, Sarah and Kate, were eleven and eight years old. Damien enjoyed bantering with his children at the breakfast table, but now that they were heading out the door to school, he also enjoyed sitting quietly and catching up on the news.

Vicki had already skimmed the paper today and she watched with interest as her husband flipped to the local news.

Damien let out a snort when he read about the speed labs being connected with Satans Wrath and how the arrests and seizures would have a big impact on the crystal meth supply in the city.
Good excuse to raise the price.

Vicki gestured to the article and asked, “Is it a problem?”

Damien shook his head. “They're always trying to pin crap on us. Actually it's funny. They think it's a big deal ... shows how small their cerebral cavities are. I might have to do the usual PR routine to the media. No big deal.”

“The paper said that two members were taken down. Silent Sam and Petro.”

“Silent Sam doesn't even have his full patch yet. No worries. Leisure Suit Larry will have them out today.”

Vicki suppressed a smile.
Leisure Suit Larry
was Damien's pet name for Lawrence Leitch, a lawyer that Satans Wrath kept on retainer.

Vicki noticed Damien turn another page and scan the paper for something else to read. His eyes settled on an article. Seconds later, he slammed the paper down on the table. She saw the pulse beat on the side of his temple and his fist close momentarily. He abruptly stood up and headed for his communications centre in the den.
She knew from experience that this was not the time to ask why.

Vicki reached for the paper. The article was about the murder of a man called Jack Taggart. He was gunned down, leaving behind a wife and two children. One child, an infant, was wounded and still undergoing surgery. His condition was listed as critical.
Jack Taggart ... I've heard that name before. Isn't he one of the cops who was in a shootout with the club last year?

In his control centre, Damien rapidly sent a BlackBerry message. Pussy Paul received the message immediately and understood its importance. Pussy Paul controlled the strip clubs for Satans Wrath, but more importantly, he was also responsible for recruiting people who worked in a variety of positions that could benefit Satans Wrath.

Damien's anger was evident. The message noted that an RCMP Intelligence officer was named Jack Taggart. Not just any officer, but one that had considerable past conflict with the club. Damien capitalized his point:
SOMEONE DOES THIS THE SAME DAY AS THE LABS ARE TAKEN DOWN! We don't need the attention — not now of all times! Contact the mole and find out what Taggart thinks. Are they blaming us? I want the info included with the other delivery. Arrange for me to meet LSL personally.

Pussy Paul knew that the “other delivery” was a copy of an RCMP intelligence report that they were expecting to receive by Thursday. That only gave him two days to find out about this other matter.

Lawrence Leitch checked his watch as the judge released two of his more important clients. They were to return in a week to enter a plea. Leitch was pleased. They had
been in jail less than a day. Silent Sam and Petro smirked at each other before giving a curt nod to Leitch. In a week they would enter a not guilty plea and a trial date would be set. With delay tactics, such as having his clients fire him just before the trial, Leitch was confident that he could drag the situation on for at least two years. They would then hire another lawyer from his firm and the games would continue. Who knew what could happen to witnesses during that time?

The court recessed for morning coffee. Leitch used the break to browse through the information he had on the other eleven clients arrested in connection with the speed labs.

Jack shifted in his seat and glanced at Assistant Commissioner Isaac. Operational meetings in his office were rare. The murder of his namesake was drawing more attention than he wished. Also present were Louie, Danny, Connie Crane, and Randy Otto, who was Connie's boss in I-HIT.

After a nod from Randy, Connie took a report from her briefcase and quickly read the details of the murder and the inquiries being conducted. She noted that the victim had never been in trouble with the police. He did not carry life insurance, and his wife was definitely not a suspect.

Jack fielded the questions as best he could. He was adamant that it was not in retaliation for yesterday's raids on the speed labs. He reiterated that he and Danny had a reliable source who would have known if that was the case, not to mention that Satans Wrath knew what he looked like and where he lived.

Isaac studied him closely and then said, “You were also responsible for the DEA seizing a metric tonne of
cocaine in San Diego three weeks ago. Perhaps Satans Wrath found out that you were involved? Your name was on the warrants for the speed labs here. Did the Americans use it on their warrant for the cocaine in the ship?”

“No sir. It was left out intentionally to protect my informant. Lots of people knew about the speed labs, but not too many new the details about the ship. I called the DEA agent I dealt with over that matter. I've known JimBo for years. I both trust and respect him. He assured me that he never divulged my name and simply identified me in a search warrant as a confidential informant. He didn't even indicate that I was Canadian.”

“That much cocaine, it must have made someone angry,” said Isaac.

“Sir,” said Jack, “after 9-11, everyone knows that there is more security at the ports. I think the cartels expect to take a few hits once in a while. Even if Satans Wrath did find out, it still leaves us with the fact that they know what I look like. They also know what my wife looks like and that she's a doctor. The victim in this matter lived in low-rental housing and was obviously poor. Satans Wrath wouldn't make a blunder like that.”

Isaac leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table with his hands up by his lips, almost like he was praying. The room became quiet as everyone waited for him to speak.

Isaac stared at Jack, and then he concluded the meeting by saying that it was possible it was a coincidence but that he wanted to be apprised of any new developments.

As Jack headed back to his office, Connie came up from behind.

“Jack! Hold on a minute. I want to talk to you about a few things. I need some names.”

A few minutes later they entered Jack's office, which consisted of his desk butting up to Danny's desk. Danny
offered Connie the use of his desk and left. Connie put her briefcase down on Danny's desk and took out a pad of paper.

“I've thought of a few names,” said Jack, “but more to appease you than anything. None that I really think would do this.”

“I have to go to the lady's room,” said Connie. “Think hard. Try and come up with a few more while I'm gone.”

As soon as she left, Jack slid her briefcase across to his desk and took out her file. He found a manila folder and dumped out numerous glossy photos of the crime scene. The horror shocked him.
Blood on Holly's face and hands from having dropped to her knees to hold her dead husband. Her eyes look blank — like they're dead. More blood on Jenny. Something a four-year-old should not have to experience. Something nobody should have to experience.
He was spared the pictures of Charlie, who had already been rushed to hospital when the photos were taken.