Dead Ends (31 page)

Chapter Forty

Late Saturday afternoon, Jack listened intently as he walked down the apartment hallway with Sy and heard about Satans Wrath's plan to broker a truce.

“Cocktail told me about it an hour ago,” continued Sy. “I trust him. He favours me over the others and nobody is gonna fuck with Satans Wrath, so safety isn't an issue.”

“How long have you known Cocktail?” asked Jack.

“Met him a couple years back through the bikers. Don't even know where he lives, let along his real name, but I can tell ya, the dude is smart. We've come a long way since he came on the scene. We're making the best shit in Canada. Maybe even the world. The big problem is this fuckin' war. Once it is over, we sit back, relax, and rake in the dough.”

“Hope it works out for you. Cocktail sounds like a guy I should meet sometime. Sammy should have his first batch done in a few days. He's using my contacts to ship some of it back east. Maybe we could get more people and expand operations there, as well.”

“Fuck, am I glad to hear you say that.”

“Why?”

“Tomorrow night you got your chance to meet him.”

Jack could barely contain his excitement. “Oh?” he said, as casually as he could sound.

“At the truce meeting. I asked him and he said to bring you along. With your contacts, I figure you can help me, Mongo, and Munch when it comes to saying who has control of what territory. It will work out for the benefit of all of us.”

“Maybe I could go with you,” replied Jack, trying to sound like he wasn't sure whether or not he should. “I would like to talk to Cocktail about the possibility of starting other labs in other provinces. I don't want Mongo and Munch knowing the details as it doesn't concern them.”

“I'm sure you can talk to him after the meeting. I told him a bit about you. He said he was looking forward to meeting you.”

“Okay … sure, I'll go along with you.”

“Good. Be here at eight o'clock tomorrow night. No guns and no phones. Satans Wrath will make us all dance through the ropes to make sure nobody is planning anything stupid.”

* * *

It was early evening when Jack and Laura walked into Connie's office. Sammy and Dallas were waiting when they arrived.

“Sorry we're running late,” said Jack. “Saturday shoppers. Traffic is bad.”

“Your message said it was important,” replied Connie, harshly.

“Yes. Everything okay, Connie?” asked Jack. “Haven't spoken to you since Tuesday.”

“And you know damn well why!”

“I'm sorry, I don't. Have I offended you somehow?”

“Do you think I'm stupid?” replied Connie. “Last Tuesday was when Lorraine Calder
accidentally
overdosed.

“Yes?” replied Jack, furrowing his eyebrows.

“I was angry then. How do you think I felt later when I found out that Roach and Bagger
accidentally
died of carbon monoxide poisoning the morning before? That was the same morning I suggested we do surveillance of them and you said not to bother, that they were just low-level punks and that it would be a waste of time.”

“Don't you think doing surveillance of dead bodies would be a waste of time?” replied Jack. “It's not like they would be doing much.”

“Don't you get that tone with me! This … this … I've got nothing to say to you!” she said, folding her arms across her chest.

“Connie, I'm sorry,” replied Jack glumly. “I was trying to be funny. Guess it didn't come across that way. It seems to me that every time a bad guy dies, you feel like I had something to do with it. You said yourself the deaths were accidental. Maybe it is time you had faith in the investigators that they know what they're doing.”

Connie stared as Laura gave Jack a sympathy pat on his back while he looked mournfully around the room.
His big blue eyes … he does look innocent. Am I wrong? Have I become that cynical and suspicious?

“Let's get back to why I called this meeting,” said Jack, with a sigh. “I met with Sy and he's arranged for me to meet Cocktail tomorrow night.”

“You serious?” asked Dallas.

“Very.”

“Yes!” said Sammy, and he and Dallas both clapped their hands.

Connie's frown dissolved. “Where? What time?”

Jack told them about the conversation he had with Sy.

“Any idea where the meeting will be?” asked Connie, becoming all business.

“No … and don't even think of following. We're not blowing it after all this.”

“Sy doesn't even know Cocktail's real name,” noted Connie. “How do you expect to find out?”

“I'll figure something out. Seeing him is half the battle. Maybe I'll get a chance to scoop something with his fingerprints on it.”

“That would work if he has a record,” noted Dallas.

“I'll still need to prove it was him who killed Father Brown,” said Connie.

“We've got the strand of hair found in the priest's smashed skull,” said Dallas.

“Defence could claim the wind blew that in,” replied Connie.

“I bet Gabriel or Noah will identify him,” said Jack. “Coupled with renting under a false name, it should make him look pretty bad.”

“Not to mention if you show a jury all the blood splatters up the back of the house,” said Dallas. “They'll freak out when they see what a monster he really is.”

“I know, I've thought of that, but I need to prove motive. How hard do you think it will be to prove he is directly involved with the labs?”

“There is no doubt that if you execute a search warrant on him you will come up with the chemical connection,” said Jack.

“And the glassware,” added Laura.

“And unexplained income,” said Sammy.

“Hey, not to mention good old-fashioned police work,” said Jack. “With what you have on him, I bet you get him to crack during interrogation.”

Connie lifted the crucifix from her neck, kissed it, and smiled.

* * *

Jack and Laura spent late Sunday afternoon and early evening in Connie's office, reviewing her entire file. Every name, every address, and every detail were carefully examined. Jack knew that something considered trivial could have the utmost importance later.

At seven o'clock, Jack glanced at his watch and said, “Time to rock and roll.”

Sammy, Dallas, and Connie wished him luck, but remained seated while Laura walked with him toward the exit.

“Wish I could come with you,” said Laura.

“These guys are not enlightened when it comes to gender,” replied Jack. “Strictly an old boys' club.”

“It's dangerous going by yourself without backup. I've got an uneasy feeling about it.”

“A meeting with no guns … hell, it sounds safer than what we've been through so far.”

“And no phones to call for help. Think you can trust the prospects to do their job?”

“You sound like you have trust issues.”

“Maybe I do. You've been acting funny these last couple of days.”

“Funny?”

“Not yourself. Everything okay at home with you and Natasha?”

“Is it ever,” said Jack, grinning to himself. “It's great.”

Laura saw the sparkle in Jack's eyes and smiled. She'd had a hunch and it would appear that she was right.

* * *

Jack drove to Sy's apartment complex and parked in the underground lot. He was about to take his BlackBerry off when a call came through. He hesitated when he saw that it was Gabriel and checked his watch. He still had ten minutes to spare.

“Hi, Gabriel.”

“Hi,” said Gabriel, sounding exasperated. “I wanted to talk about something. Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“I'm about to go into a meeting, but I have a couple of minutes.”

“You're working on the Sabbath? Oh, but you're not —”

“Couldn't be helped. What's up?”

“Noah's been acting up again. He got in trouble with the police.”

“What happened?”

“Stupid kid's stuff. He lit the neighbour's fence on fire this afternoon. They got it out before there was any real damage. Another neighbour who lives behind us saw him do it.”

“Did he say why he did it?”

“I asked. He says he doesn't know why. It's plain silly. I don't know what to do with him. One minute he throws a temper tantrum and the next minute he's crying over nothing.”

“I'm going to be busy for a day or two, but how about I drop by and talk to him later in the week?”

“I hate to bother you.”

“No bother,” said Jack.
No time like the present to practise being a dad …

* * *

Minutes later, Jack met Sy and went with him in Sy's car to a multi-level public parking lot where Sy parked on the roof level.

“How long do we wait?” asked Jack, reaching into his jacket pocket.

“Cocktail didn't say. All I know is we are to wait. Mongo and Munch should be along, too.” Sy paused when he saw what Jack had in his hand and said, “What the fuck you doing?”

“Rubik's Cube,” replied Jack. “It's something I play with when I'm nervous. Helps me chill out.”

“Don't worry,” replied Sy. “Tonight ya got nothin' to be nervous about.”

Two more cars arrived and Jack saw that it was Mongo and Munch. Jack, Sy, and Mongo got out and grouped around the open window to Munch's car.

Moments later a van arrived, followed by another car.

Jack saw Munch undo his jacket and wrap his hand around the butt of a pistol stuck in his pants.

“Put it away,” said Sy. “It's Cocktail in the car. Got a biker with him.”

The van and the car parked and Jack saw a man walk toward them. The man was taller than Jack, but had a thin build. He had a full, neatly cropped beard and a trimmed moustache. His hair was wavy and cut to collar length. He was wearing slacks, black dress shoes, and an open sports-jacket that showed a silk shirt underneath.

Jack glanced at Mongo and saw him slip the pistol under his seat.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” said Cocktail. “Glad that you are all on time.”

“Yeah,” said Sy. “This is my buddy I was telling you about. Jay, this is Cocktail.”

Jack stuck out his hand and Cocktail shook it and smiled. His smile disappeared when he saw there was something in Jack's other hand.

“What's in your hand?” he said, stepping back cautiously.

“Oh, sorry,” replied Jack. “Something I twiddle with to pass the time. Never have solved it,” he said, passing the cube to Cocktail.

Cocktail twirled the cube with his fingers and said, “I used to do these in under a minute. Not much challenge, really.” He gave it back to Jack and said, “Keep working on it. You'll get there some day.”

Jack put it back in his pocket.

Cocktail waved over the two men who'd arrived with him and said, “Okay, gentlemen, the four of you will be frisked by my associates and taken for a ride. No talking until we get there. I hope it goes well tonight and I wish you all good fortune.”

Jack studied the faces of the two men who searched them.
Don't recognize them from any pictures of Satans Wrath. The club must be growing …

* * *

Jack, Sy, Mongo, and Munch were subsequently searched, placed in the van, and blindfolded. They were driven for an hour before Jack could tell by the sound of the tires that they had left a paved road and had entered a road that was gravelled and bumpy. Within seconds, the van came to a stop.

The side door on the van slid open and Cocktail said, “Okay, gentlemen, we have arrived. You may take off your blindfolds and get out.”

Jack did as instructed. He saw that they were parked in front of a small barn. The stench of manure hung in the air.

He looked around and saw that behind them there was a farmhouse near the road. Lights were on inside the home, but no other people were visible.

“Where are the bikers?” he asked.

“The others haven't arrived yet, so I expect there are only a couple out at the road and maybe some in the barn. Which, incidentally, is where we are meeting,” he added, while gesturing toward the barn with a leather attaché case he was holding.

“It stinks here,” said Mongo, while stroking his goatee and looking around.

“Pig farm up the road,” replied Cocktail. “Shall we continue, gentlemen? Time is wasting, although it would appear that we will have a short wait.”

They entered the barn and Jack saw that it was divided in half, with a wall down the centre. A glimpse through a doorway revealed that the far side held a row of empty stalls and stanchions to hold cattle in place. The section of the barn they were in was open in the middle with empty pens on each side. A wooden ladder nailed to a wall led to a hayloft up above.