Angel in the Full Moon (10 page)

“For sure. Let's go back to the office. I've got the pay phone number. Let's find out who he called.”

“Glad you're back,” said Quaile, motioning them into his office. “Have a seat,” he said, sounding friendly.

“We just got something on the Russians,” said Jack. “I happened to overhear them at a pay phone. It sounds like they're planning to bring a boatload of coke up through Costa Rica.”

“Oh, good,” said Quaile. “Pass it on to Drug Section. I've got ...”

“We haven't reached that stage yet,” said Jack. “We need to ...”

“Don't interrupt me,” responded Quaile with a noticeable
chill to his voice. “This office is done working on degenerates. We're stepping things up around here. I just got off the phone with Inspector Penn at Commercial Crime. They have a huge stock manipulation case on the go. He said he would be glad to get the extra help.”

“Stock manipulation,” said Jack. “That should be left up to Commercial Crime. The organized crime we target is ...”

“Considering you work on an Intelligence Unit,” said Quaile, “I'm astounded at your lack of knowledge. Perhaps you should review what organized crime is. The Canadian Intelligence Service of Canada says that it is two or more persons consorting together on a continuing basis to participate in illegal activities.”

“Yes,” replied Jack. “The Criminal Code, which is more suited for the RCMP, defines it as three or more persons. But that is not the point. I am personally familiar with
real
organized crime. It ...”

“Then you will appreciate that your new assignment is within our mandate! I'm sure they appreciate our offer to assist.”

“They never even asked for assistance?” said Jack, angrily. “You just decided to call and butt in?”

“These are white collar criminals. Something far more appropriate for our section to be dealing with. Not drugs or the dirty people you seem to prefer.” Quaile glowered at Jack and said, “I'm sure you pick on them because of their lower intelligence and it is no doubt easy, but those days are over. If you're not capable of catching the smart crooks then I would suggest that you consider a transfer elsewhere.”

“Staff, please. The Russians are big fish. They're planning to go to Costa Rica within the next two weeks. Laura and I should go.”

“Absolutely not! As of this moment, you are finished with
them. Pass what you have over to Drug Section.”

“We need to do more background work first. Just two more weeks.”

“I said no! I'm done for the day. I expect to see you in this office tomorrow morning at o-eight-hundred. Now leave!”

“That son of a bitch!” Laura muttered when they returned to their own office.

Jack glanced at Laura. Swearing for her was most unusual. Her face had gone a blotchy red, which looked all the worse under the red highlights in her chestnut-coloured hair.

“Quaile wants me out of here,” said Jack. “I don't know why, but he does. Maybe that's what this is all about.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You heard his jab about my abilities and his suggestion I should consider a transfer elsewhere. For some reason, he's got me in his sights.”

“Maybe because you'd rather catch bad guys than shine shoes or kiss butt.”

“Whatever, but he's the boss. My annual assessment is also overdue. I can just imagine what that will be like.”

“What can we do?”

“We need to show him that the Russians are big time. Prove that they're international players. Then maybe he'll see the light of day.”

“He said not to work on them anymore.”

“I know ... and I know it's a lot to ask, but for the next week or two, if we work on them non-stop, we'll prove it. Only come to the office for our morning inspection and then get back out there.”

“We can't. He won't let us.”

Jack shook his head and said, “There are always guys like
Quaile around. That's usually the biggest challenge in catching bad guys. We just have to get him to give us more time.”

“How? He won't listen to us.” Laura saw a smile creep across Jack's face. “Don't tell me you have friends in high places, like Ottawa?”

Jack looked at her and shook his head and said, “But I do have friends. I'll see what influence I can dredge up. At this point I have nothing to lose.”

“I can't see Quaile ever changing his mind.”

“See what happens tomorrow morning,” said Jack. “Make sure you're in his office at eight. You won't want to miss it.”

Bien's brain didn't want to accept the message that he got from the smuggler in Hanoi. His worst fears were realized. The smuggler's words whirled around in his head like a voice that he couldn't stop.

Hang died in a car accident when she was crossing the street. Most unfortunate. She is an illegal. They can't get her body. Too many people would be arrested. It would even jeopardize the others when they arrive.

Bien had gasped as he heard the words. The smuggler had continued to speak.
Traffic in America is very fast. You have caused the American family much pain. You should have taught Hang to be more careful when crossing the street. You are lucky that they are still willing to accept Linh ....

Now, Bien sat on the floor with his mother. They had plastic chairs inside their room, but Bien's mother always preferred to sit Vietnamese-style on the floor with her legs tucked under.

Bien held the black and white photocopy of Hang and
Linh standing in front of The One Pillar Pagoda. Minutes later, he put it down on the floor in front of him, afraid that his tears would damage the picture.

Bien knew that his mother had barely survived the war. She had experienced more pain and death in her life than any human should have to endure. He had believed she was incapable of crying anymore, her well of tears run dry. But now, her eyes were wet and she rocked back and forth, her arms folded across her chest and her hands resting on her shoulders.

Bien thought about Linh. He wanted to be the one to tell her, but he knew it wouldn't be possible. She would be devastated.
Mister and Missus Pops ... they too must feel the grief ... and in three weeks, when Linh arrived, they would have the unpleasant task of telling her that her sister is dead.

At seven-thirty in the morning Jack and Laura were on their way to work, unaware that at the same moment, Dúc was picking up the two Russians in front of their apartment building.

The three men went to a restaurant to discuss business over breakfast.

“We have been checking,” said Moustache Pete. “There are many places a ship could come in undetected.”

“But it was only a fishing boat going out to sea,” said Dúc. “My man has his own fishing boat there and his house for the passengers. It is much easier.”

“And if the men on the fishing boat that saw the ship unloading have talked, what then? Next time the police could be waiting.”

“It is a small town. The fishermen all know each other. My man says he would have heard something if that were true. Next time, if the ship were to come in two hours earlier, there would be nobody around to see.”

Moustache Pete and the Fat Man looked at each other and nodded in agreement. “Okay, we do it the same way next time, but if the load is lost, it is you that must pay.”

“I understand. It will not be lost.”

“The money?” said the Fat Man, gesturing to an attaché case that Dúc carried.

Dúc nodded and passed it over.

“All there?” asked the Fat Man.

“Yes.... No!” replied Dúc.

“What do you mean?” asked Moustache Pete. “Is it, or isn't it?”

“All there except for the young girl. I forgot to pick that up.”

“Ah, our insurance policy,” said Moustache Pete with a smile as he looked at the Fat Man.

“Insurance policy?” asked Dúc.

“Just a joke between the two of us,” replied Moustache Pete.

“The money is arranged,” said Dúc. “He paid all of the deposit the first time, but I gave it back when only one girl came. Please, one moment, I know he works Tuesday to Saturday, but he may not have left for work yet.”

Dúc used his cellphone and made a quick call. When he hung up he said, “Yes, he is home and will wait, but I must go now.”

“That is not a problem,” said Moustache Pete. “We will go with you and wait in the car. You can drive us back to our apartment later. Maybe by then the bank will be open and we can stop there first.”

Jack stared at Quaile as he made a pretext of looking at them as he sat behind his desk.

“Yes. You look much more appropriate,” said Quaile, avoiding Jack's stare. “That is how you should be attired on all occasions. Now, I'm going to call Inspector Penn and tell him that the both of you are now available to ....” Quaile paused to answer his telephone.

“May I speak with the NCO in charge, please?” asked a feminine voice.

“You are. This is Staff Sergeant Quaile.”

“Stand by, one moment please. I'm going to connect you with Deputy Commissioner Simonson.”

“Deputy Commissioner Simonson!” said Quaile aloud.

It was a name Quaile knew well. Deputy Commissioner Simonson worked in Ottawa and was only one rung below the actual Commissioner himself. Someone so far up the chain of command that for him to call someone in Quaile's position was virtually unheard of.

Quaile glanced at the call display and recognized the Ottawa prefix and put his hand over the receiver and looked at Jack and Laura and whispered, “Get out.”

“Sorry,” said Jack. “I couldn't hear that.”

“I have an important call. Get out!”

Jack and Laura obediently returned to their own office.

Back in their own office, Laura looked at Jack and said, “I was afraid to even look at you in there in case I couldn't keep a straight face. Deputy Commissioner Simonson?”

Jack smiled and said, “Quaile would never have the nerve to call him, let alone question what he wants.”

“Good one. Who are you using?”

“Remember Bob from Edmonton?”

“Thought he was retired now? Working for the Insurance Corporation of B.C.”

“He is, but still has all the contacts. Including someone to provide him with a call forwarding number out of Ottawa.”

“If this doesn't work, Quaile will have you transferred.”

“I have the feeling that I've nothing to lose.”

Quaile drummed his fingers on the desk for thirty seconds, but sat upright when a gruff voice asked, “Staff Sergeant Quaalude?”

“Ah, it's pronounced, Quaile, sir.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting. Things are hectic here this morning. What's the weather like out there in Vancouver?”

“Windy and raining right now, sir. Kind of miserable.”

“That's good. Listen, I'm calling about the reports you submitted. The Commissioner is personally interested in this.”

“The Commissioner! What reports sir?”

“On those two Russians your section is working on. I don't have their names. You must know who I mean?”

“I do sir.”

“Their names surfaced in an international investigation we're involved with here. It's a high priority case involving very bad apples. We've discovered that there is corruption at the highest level. Indications are that it is even amongst our own ranks.”

“Corruption amongst our own ranks, sir?”

“Yes, Quaalude, I just said that. Now, whatever you get on these guys, I don't want you to dilly-dally with the reports. Send them in pronto! I don't know how you got on to them, but I can tell you, the Commissioner is pleased. There are other countries involved and it's about time we had something to make us look good.”

“Yes, sir! My instincts told me these guys were bad from the get-go. Should I have my investigators contact someone?”

“No. Don't talk about this to anyone or have anyone make any calls at this time. Weren't you listening when I said there is a serious indication of corruption?”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

“Simply proceed like normal. We will contact you if the need arises. Just keep those reports coming.”

“Would you like me to direct the reports to your personal attention?”

“Jesus ... of course not, Quaalude! I have better things to do than distribute reports around the building. My God, what do you think I do here? Send them through ordinary channels as always. You got that?”

“Yes, sir!”

Moments later, Jack and Laura were summoned back to Quaile's office.

“Listen, I've had overnight to rethink what you said yesterday and have reconsidered this whole Russian matter. I'm going to allow you to continue working on them, but I expect results—don't let me down!”

“Staff ... are you sure?” asked Jack, ignoring the roll of Laura's eyes. “What about Commercial Crime?”

“That can wait for now. You told me these Russians are worth taking a look at. You better not fail. This is your one and only chance to prove it.”

“Will do,” said Jack as he and Laura turned to leave.

“Not so fast,” said Quaile.

“Staff?” asked Jack.

“I see our overtime budget is healthy at the moment, so don't hesitate to work a few extra hours if necessary.”

Upon returning to their office, Laura looked at Jack and said, “Bob was a good operator.”

“One of the best. He still is.”

Dúc parked his car down the street from Pops's house and got out while Moustache Pete and the Fat Man waited. They
watched as Dúc hustled down the street before disappearing up the inclination of a driveway that led around to the back of the house.

“It is good,” said the Fat Man. “This degenerate. He pays us for our insurance.”

“Soon the other child will be here,” said Moustache Pete. “It will be double indemnity.”