Dead Ends (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

At nine o'clock Friday morning, Jack and Laura, driving an SUV, arrived at Sy's apartment complex followed by a local moving truck. Sy gave them the keys to their apartment and the underground parking garage. By three o'clock that afternoon they were completely moved in and unpacked. Their furniture was rented and their dishes and cutlery had been purchased from Walmart.

The two men who drove and unloaded the moving truck had another purpose. They were with a specialized unit of the RCMP. All rooms in the apartment would be bugged for safety.

At midnight Jack and Laura left the apartment and returned an hour later. They used a two-wheeled moving dolly to haul two new television sets up to their apartment. Jack left one television on the dolly outside in the hall and the other one on the floor inside the front entrance.

“Good as time as any,” said Jack, walking in to the bedroom which he knew was above Sy's apartment.

Jack checked his watch and then jumped high in the air and landed with a loud thud. Fifteen minutes later he jumped again. A repetition of four more followed before they heard Sy bang on the ceiling with a broom handle.

“He's really getting mad now,” commented Laura.

Two jumps later, an enraged Sy appeared in the hallway outside their apartment. Jack pretended not to see him as he struggled with the dolly and said, “This is the last one, Princess.”

Sy appeared behind his shoulder and saw Laura dragging a large cardboard box that she had lifted by one end. She spotted Sy and let the box drop, making a loud thud.

“What the hell are you two doing?” seethed Sy. “It's after two o'clock in the fucking morning!”

“Damn it, Princess!” said Jack. “Were you dropping them all like that? This is an apartment. You have to remember to keep the noise down.”

“They're heavy,” she said. “I'm not a weightlifter.”

Jack turned to Sy and said, “I'm really sorry. A friend of mine was supposed to move this stuff tonight and his truck broke down. He called me at midnight in a big panic to help take a few sets off his hands.”

“Consider this your first and last warning,” replied Sy. “I live right below ya. No more fuckin' noise or you're out!”

“I understand completely,” replied Jack. “As an apology, I'll give you this last set.”

Sy looked at the box and said, “It's a fifty-inch plasma television set … the box hasn't even been opened. You're giving it to me?”

“Yes, I think it should be a good set,” replied Jack. “My friend is … uh, in the electronic business. These are … uh, extra sets that nobody wants. Out of date or something. Give me a hand and we'll haul it down to your place. The only thing is there is no warranty. If something ever goes wrong with it, don't try to get it fixed on warranty.”

Sy smiled. Rodine had told him that Jack was connected to the Irish mafia and into moving stolen property. He had a feeling that he and his new tenants would become good friends. At least, he hoped they would.

* * *

The following Monday night, Sy awoke to one loud thud coming from above. After that, everything was quiet. At noon the next day he answered a knock on his door.

Jack stood there with a sealed case of Russian vodka.

“Hi, Jay. What's this?” asked Sy.

“I dropped one of these last night,” said Jack. “Sorry about that. I bet it woke you.” He handed the case to Sy and said, “A gift for you.”

“You're giving me a dozen bottles of vodka?”

“Yeah. I … uh, have a friend in the liquor business. It didn't cost me anything.”

“No warranty?” said Sy with a smile.

Jack chuckled and said, “Yeah. No warranty against headaches.”

“If you're not up to anything, how about having a drink with me?” suggested Sy. “We could watch a movie on my new television. It works great, by the way.”

“That's good. A drink sounds good, too. Mind if I go get Princess?”

“Not at all. I think we have enough,” replied Sy, hoisting the case of vodka for emphasis.

“Well, if we run out, I've got more,” said Jack.

By mid-afternoon, Sy had guzzled enough vodka mixed with Red Bull that he had loosened up a little. He looked down at his dirty jeans and rumpled shirt and cast a glance at Jack and Laura, who were dressed in trendy clothes.

“You guys do alright, doncha?” Sy said.

“We do all right,” admitted Jack.

“Yeah, I can tell. Come with me a sec, will ya? Want to take a little walk. You don't mind, do ya, Princess? I'll bring your man right back.”

“I don't mind,” replied Laura. “It will give me time to pour another drink.”
One without vodka
.

Outside in the hallway, Sy said, “I make a rule of never talkin' business inside my place. You never know who is listenin'.”

“Good rule,” said Jack. “Back east I used to have my places swept once a month. Then I figured it was smarter not to say anything inside.”

“You had your places swept … man … your cousin told me that … you know, you were connected. I didn't realize how big. Plus I thought that was back east.”

“The world is getting smaller,” replied Jack. “We have a lot of friends. Some are out west.”

“Shit, I can see why ya got friends. You are one generous guy.”

“Ah, hell,” said Jack, brushing off his comment. “That's nothing. Chump change. My friend did get his truck fixed, so most times we'll use a proper storage place. The other night with the truck breaking down and the storage locker closing, we were in a bind.”

“Chump change? That television ain't no chicken feed to me.” Sy looked at Jack suspiciously and said, “The way you're dressed and everything … your watch … necklace … you got money.”

“I get by.”

“So why move into a dump like this?”

“This isn't our only place,” replied Jack. “I don't believe in putting all my eggs in one basket. Along with my friends, I've also made a few enemies along the way. I like having more than one place to hang my hat. Rodent said you were a solid guy. Someone who could keep his mouth shut. Figured it would be a safe place if we needed one.”

“Your, uh, other place is a little nicer, I bet,” said Sy.

“One is. I'm not exactly the trusting sort. Only Princess knows the location of my other places.”

“One is?” repeated Sy. “Man, that's smart. Maybe somethin' I should think of.”

“You have enemies?” asked Jack.

“Did your cousin tell ya much about me?” countered Sy.

Jack shrugged and said, “I know my cousin is a chef.”

“A chef? Oh, yeah,” chuckled Sy.

“I presumed you were in business with him.”

“We do some stuff together,” admitted Sy. “But do I have enemies? Fuckin' right. Things are gettin' hot. A guy has to be careful.”

“Hot! If you have heat then I'm not staying here,” said Jack, sounding angry. “Rodent didn't say anything about the police sniffing around.”

“No, no. Not that kind of heat,” Sy assured him. “It's the competition. People encroachin' into places they shouldn't.”

“Ah, I see,” replied Jack.

“We've been tradin' messages back and forth.”

“Good to communicate,” said Jack.

Sy smiled and said, “Not the type you're thinkin' of. The kind where you drive fast …” As he spoke, Sy used his hand to simulate firing a gun. “You ever do that?”

Jack shook his head and said, “Nope. That attracts the police and usually doesn't accomplish anything. I prefer the magician's act.”

“The magician's act?”

“Make the bunny disappear.”

Sy smirked and said, “You are one cool dude. You into the powder?”

“I don't use. I like to keep my brain intact.”

“No, I don't mean usin'. I mean making money off it.”

“Dope is something I've kept away from. Too risky for me. I have an aversion to going to jail.”

“Fuck, man. You're not back east now. We're in B.C. Things are different out here.”

“So I heard.”

“Besides, if a guy is smart, he don't take risks himself. You get the YDUs to do that.”

“YDUs?” asked Jack.

“The young, dumb, and uglies,” laughed Sy. “Come on, let's go back inside. Maybe I'll invite a couple people I know.”

The drinking in Sy's apartment lasted several hours. During that time, a few young people came and went. They were of mixed ethnic background, including Asian and East Indian. Jack doubted that few of them were older than their early twenties.

One exception was Brewski, who lived next door to Sy. He showed up with a teenaged girl hugging him around his waist. The girl had a good figure and wore a low-cut sweater to show off her ample breasts. Her light brown hair was curly and cropped short.
She could be attractive
, thought Jack,
if she didn't look like a hardened slut
.

“Brewski is my right-hand man,” slurred Sy in a drunken whisper to Jack. “Not like all these other fuckin' YDUs.”

Brewski heard the comment and stood a little straighter. He was proud to be identified as being important to Sy. Jack smiled to himself.
Sy isn't overly bright, but Brewski is even slower
.

“Meet my girl,” said Brewski. “Lorraine, say hi to Sy's new buddy.”

“Well helloooo,” Lorraine crooned, unwrapping herself from Brewski and running her hand down Jack's chest.

Jack remembered Lorraine Calder from the investigation into Julie Goodwin's suicide. It was difficult to feign friendship. “Time for me to check with my own girl,” he said, and walked over to join Laura.

“Time to slip away?” Laura asked. She had witnessed Lorraine's arrival and knew that it would not be good to make an enemy out of Brewski.

“Yes, I've had about all I can stand.”

“You're telling me,” whispered Laura. “I'm old enough to be most of these kids' mother. If I hear one more sentence start with,
so like, this is cool dude
or
so like, this is rockin'
, I think I'm,
so like
, going to slap someone.”

* * *

Over the next week, Jack and Laura became better acquainted with Sy, who was beginning to open up more and more. One afternoon, Jack walked down the one flight to visit with Sy and saw him talking to a man in the hallway. The man, in his early thirties, was obese with a shaved head that showed the rolls of fat on the back of his neck. He quit talking and nudged Sy as Jack approached.

“Hey, Sy,” said Jack. “Princess is out shopping. I hate sitting alone, so wondered if you were up to having a beer?”

“Hell of a good idea,” smiled Sy. “We're done business here, anyway.” Sy introduced his acquaintance as “Munch.”

“You want to join us?” Sy asked Munch.

Munch shook his head and said, “Gotta take care of business.”

“What, you headin' to a buffet someplace?” asked Sy with a smile.

“Fuck you,” said Munch, chuckling. “I did that at noon.”

As Munch walked away, Sy looked at Jack and said, “He's a good guy. Someone solid who is on my side of The Brotherhood.”

“The Brotherhood?”

“We used to be independent gangs, but there were problems. We thought if we met and talked, maybe we could resolve our problems. Like in the movies with those New York families.”

“Sounds professional.”

“Yeah, that's what I thought. It was my idea. So the seven biggest gangs formed a coalition and we called ourselves The Brotherhood. For a little while, things were great. We even did business with each other.”

“What happened?”

“Ah, next thing ya know, squabbles started breaking out over new territory. Then we started fighting over what had long been our own turf. It's gotten that you never know when some fucker will drive by and take a shot at ya. Two of the other gangs are on my side. Munch is the boss of one of 'em. The boss of the other gang is a guy called Mongo.”

“You mentioned last week that you were involved with drive-bys,” said Jack. “It's good that you have some allies. Are you at war with all of the other gangs?”

“Three for sure. The fourth one is riding the fence.”

“Sounds like you should convince the fence-rider to go your way. Make it four against three.”

“I've tried.”

“Maybe he's trying to play you against each other and is hoping to come out on top when the smoke clears,” suggested Jack.

Sy's face darkened and he said, “The fuckin' dirty Indo'! You think so? That would be Rashard's style.”