Dead Ends (8 page)

Connie let out an involuntary gasp as her stomach constricted. Her lungs froze and her mouth unconsciously dropped open as she strained to listen.

Chapter Eight

Several anxious seconds ticked past and Connie stared at the silent recorder.
Is it working?
Moments later, the sound of footsteps told her that it was.

“Who is it?” came Varrick's voice. “Who's there?”

Dead silence was followed by the sound of Varrick slowly opening the door.

“There's nobody here,” he said. “What the fuck! Look what's hangin' on the knob!”

“A gold fuckin' cross?” responded Zack.

Connie heard the door knob rattle slightly before the door was closed again.

“There's a piece of paper tied to it,” said Zack.

“A fuckin' gold cross,” muttered Varrick, sounding bewildered.

“Someone's yankin' our chain over that dead priest!”

“His was real gold,” replied Varrick. “This is painted wood.”

“Who the fuck put it on the doorknob? Read the note.”

Connie heard a rustle of paper and Varrick said, “
God knows what you did and is waiting …
” Varrick started laughing.

“What's so funny?” demanded Zack.

“Cocktail is fuckin' with us.”

“You see him out there?”

“No, but who else could it be?” answered Varrick.

“I thought he wasn't gonna show up until another couple of days,” replied Zack.

“Come on,” laughed Varrick. “There's nobody else it could be. It's him, fuckin' with us.”

“Then why isn't he comin' in to laugh at us?”

“Probably will in a few minutes.”

“Cocktail, you fuckin' bastard,” grumbled Zack. “Man, what a fuckin' night that was,” he added.

“Your fault for breakin' the glassware,” said Varrick.

“It was you who cracked the door open for fresh air,” replied Zack.

“I didn't know a fuckin' nosy priest would be outside listening,” answered Varrick.

“He wasn't listening when we saw him. Too busy talking to God.”

Varrick chuckled, but his voice became serious when he added, “Good thing Cocktail came along.”

“I guess,” replied Zack. “He wasn't laughin' then. Fuckin' near shit when we helped drag him in by the ankles.”

“He's gotta be laughin' at us. Come on, let's go find him. We're done here, anyway.”

Connie closed her eyes for a moment.
Jack, you did it. Split this case wide open.

Jack answered his BlackBerry and listened to Connie's excited and happy voice as she relayed what had transpired.

“Bad news,” said Jack. “I don't know anyone with the nickname of Cocktail.”

“You don't? Crap … well, I'm sure we will. Man … fantastic! Don't worry. With what we got tonight I won't have any problem getting the wire renewed. They said Cocktail is coming by in a couple of days. Jack, I'm so happy I could kiss your sweet little ass.”

“I appreciate that, but I don't think Natasha would,” said Jack, chuckling. “Also, it looks like we've got movement. Targets are leaving.”

“Maybe they're going to meet with Cocktail,” suggested Connie.

“Maybe. Or someone will. The problem is what will they do when they find out it wasn't Cocktail who hung the crucifix on their door?”

“Who cares?” replied Connie. “With what we've got on wire, this case is basically solved. Especially if we can lay a conspiracy charge. All we need is to identify Cocktail. Maybe tonight we'll do that, too.”

Surveillance continued. Varrick retrieved his truck and went to Zack's apartment building where Zack parked and got in with Varrick before driving to Headstones.

“I don't like this,” said Jack as he and Laura parked in their usual spot to watch.

“Maybe they're chatting with Cocktail,” suggested Laura. “If we scoop the plates, we might identify him tonight. What's the worry?”

“The bikers kept these guys on ice a long time before deciding to set up another lab. I think they were protecting someone. Maybe Cocktail.”

“So? Your point being?”

“If Cocktail is really valuable, they wouldn't risk having him go to Headstones. With what happened, Satans Wrath could be looking at Varrick and Zack as loose ends.”

“Oh, man.”

“Exactly.”

Numerous vehicles came and went from Headstones. Jack and Laura snuck around on foot and identified several licence plates belonging to prospective members of Satans Wrath as well as numerous other criminals. None were associated with any name or occupation that would warrant the nickname of Cocktail.

It was four o'clock in the morning when the lights went out at Headstones. Varrick's truck remained parked.

“Maybe Zack decided to spend the night,” said Laura hopefully.

“Above ground or below, is the question,” replied Jack.

* * *

It was ten o'clock the next morning when Jack's question was answered. He arrived at work and saw a computer message saying that a Detective Wilson with the Vancouver Police Department had checked Varrick and Zack for criminal records earlier that morning.

Previously, Jack had entered Varrick and Zack on the Canadian Police Information Centre computer. The CPIC entry was done in a manner so that whoever checked the names would not know Jack was interested, but a message would be sent to Jack advising him of who checked the names. It would be up to Jack's discretion as to whether to inquire further. He decided to call.

“Homicide, Wilson,” answered a gruff voice.

Jack identified himself, already knowing what he was about to hear. “I got a silent hit on CPIC,” he said. “You ran two names this morning.”

“Herman Varrick and David Zacharias,” said Wilson.

“Both murdered?”

“Yup, I think it was murder,” replied Wilson. “Both found dead in an alley off of East Hastings about two hours ago. Time of death was about six hours earlier.”

“Shot?”

“Nope. Looks like heroin overdoses. A needle was still in Varrick's hand. The thing is, neither had any tracks. Needles wasn't their thing. You got something that can help us, one way or the other?”

Jack sighed.
Do I tell them that it was me who got them killed?
“Um, in my opinion it was not accidental,” replied Jack.

“Can you elaborate a little? Christ, if you're right, we're talking a double homicide here. Shit-rats or not, this landed on my desk. I want to solve it.”

“They were associated with Satans Wrath —”

“Shit,” said Wilson.

“And were in the process of setting up a meth lab,” continued Jack. “I think the bikers may have clued in that we were on to them.”

“So Satans Wrath severed the connection to protect themselves. Typical.”

“You got it. Varrick and Zack are … were of interest to I-HIT for another murder. I'll get Connie Crane to call you and fill you in. She's the lead investigator.”

Jack barely hung up the phone when it rang. It was Connie.

“Hey, Jack. Good going last night. How late did you sit on them?”

“The lights went out at Headstones at four this morning.”

“Zack stayed over too, did he?” noted Connie.

“His lights went out permanently around two. Same for Varrick.”

“This is all great,” said Connie, still filled with enthusiasm and not really listening. “I already spoke with PPSC. We'll get an extension on our wire.”

“Connie, listen to me. I've got some bad news. Forget using Varrick and Zack to find Cocktail. We've hit a dead end as far as they're concerned.”

“What are you talking about?”

“VPD found Varrick and Zack dead in an alley at eight o'clock this morning. Set up to look like heroin overdoses. They probably took them out of Headstones through the garage.”

“Oh, God, no …” Connie felt the depression settle over her like a lead blanket.
My only leads to Cocktail are dead
. Her mind felt numb as Jack told her about his conversation with Wilson. She twiddled her crucifix around and around with her thumb and forefinger as Jack spoke. Eventually the chain tightened around her neck and cut into the skin before she stopped.

“Are you listening?” asked Jack, moments after he quit speaking.

“Yeah, I heard you,” muttered Connie. “I was afraid this would happen.”

“You guessed that the bikers would kill them?” asked Jack.

“No. I knew when I called you into this case that I would end up with more bodies than I started with.”

“You haven't. Varrick and Zack are VPD's worry.”

“You tryin' to be funny?”

“No, simply reminding you.”

“Of what?”

“To stay focused. Our primary objective is to find and identify Cocktail. Forget about Varrick and Zack now.”

“Yeah, but our evidence from last night's wire is useless. Where do we go from here? And who is Cocktail? One of Satans Wrath?”

“I've never heard of him. I ran his name through the system. Nothing matched.”

“Varrick and Zack … you, uh, being straight with me on this?” asked Connie suspiciously.

“Hell, yes! I had no idea when I hung the crucifix on their door that it would get them killed. I figured the two of them were responsible for the murder. I was hoping to get them talking. I didn't know they'd go looking for Cocktail.”

“Well obviously they did and he killed them, too.”

“I doubt that Cocktail killed them. I think Satans Wrath did it to sever the connection and protect Cocktail. He has to be a major player to have the bikers jumping through hoops for him.”

Connie's sigh was audible.

“Sorry, Connie,” said Jack. “It was my fault. Last night I thought it was a good idea.”

“Yeah, well … shit happens. I'm not blaming you. If you hadn't done it, we would be nowhere. At least we know who we're after.”

“We'll find out Cocktail's real name,” said Jack, determinedly.

“That would be a start. Then we have to prove it. If he, or Satans Wrath, are jittery enough to whack Varrick and Zack, they're not about to be giving us any proof. I'll liaise with City and search their rooms where they were staying.”

“You're dealing with Satans Wrath,” said Jack. “The rooms will have been cleaned out.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

After a moment of silence, Jack said, “How about we set up a meeting with the Organized Crime Task Force and go over everything. Laura called them and they said they have a report that puts Zack at a house party a few months ago. Mostly kids, from what I gather. It doesn't seem significant, but let's see what else OCTF has and find out who else was at the party.”

“Police work, all peaks and valleys,” mumbled Connie. “Riding high one moment and crashing the next.”

“We'll solve this. Don't worry, I'll think of something.”

“Don't worry? You tell me you'll think of something and then say don't worry! Last night you thought of something and we ended up with two extra bodies.”

“A consequence I didn't predict. Who would have guessed? You didn't.”

“Yeah, well, maybe this time it was accidental,” conceded Connie.

“What do you mean,
this time
?”

“You know exactly what I mean. Don't push me.”

“Forget about Varrick and Zack. Stay focused on what to do next.”

“A double homicide and you say forget about them!”

“There is another person who could die yet. Worry about that one.”

“Another! Jack, what did I just say!”

“Faith.”

“Faith? In you? Listen you —”

“No, Faith! Gabriel's four-year-old daughter. Will she die next?” Jack added harshly.

The mention of Faith shocked Connie and she was temporarily at a loss for words. After a moment, she heard Jack vow that they would identify Cocktail. She heard herself agree to attend the meeting with the OCTF and hung up.

Connie reflected on the cold tone of Jack's voice when he spoke of Faith.
If … when we identify Cocktail … then what? As of last night I thought I was working on three bad guys … with Jack on the case, two are already dead …

Chapter Nine

On Friday morning a meeting was held with Jack, Laura, Connie, and Dan Mylo from OCTF, in Jack's office.

Dan outlined the gang wars in the lower mainland. “Province-wide,” he said, “we've identified 118 gangs. The Brotherhood was an amalgamation of what used to be a dozen independent gangs. The gangs grew larger, some incorporated with each other, and the amalgamation split when turf issues developed. Basically, The Brotherhood is currently divided into two factions, with an estimated three or four bosses on each side controlling their gangs.”

“No one guy has stepped up to take complete control, then?” asked Connie.

“Don't think it's that easy,” replied Dan, glancing at Jack. “I think a certain degree of political backing is required.”

Jack nodded in agreement and said, “The potential leaders are being watched and perhaps loosely guided by Satans Wrath. Although the leaders are adults in their twenties and thirties, the bulk of the membership are teenagers who were previously part of the independent youth gangs. They are violent, young, lack common sense, and have a total disregard for human life. They don't care who might get in the way as is evidenced by all the drive-by shootings.”

“Which is our priority,” said Dan. “We're spending all our time trying to take the guns off the street and work on the shooters.”

“Where do the shooters rank in the organization?” asked Connie. “I would think they would be revered as top dogs.”

Dan shook his head and said, “Not on the bottom, but not bright enough to ever be in charge. They're mid-level status. At the moment, we're too busy trying to keep a handle on them, let alone identify and work on the real leaders. Drug trafficking, prostitution, auto theft … all take a back seat to the indiscriminate shootings that are going on.” He looked at Jack and said, “Out of curiosity, do you think Satans Wrath could be instigating some of these shootings?”

Jack shook his head and said, “Satans Wrath aren't impressed by indiscriminate shootings. It brings a lot of heat and is bad for business. At the same time, they appreciate the need to control and expand business. In some ways they're in a catch-22 situation. They know that police resources are limited and that all these shootings will take the heat off of them. At the same time, they are losing money because of the turf wars and its negative effect on business. Until the turf wars are settled, I don't think Satans Wrath will want to get too involved with who murders who. If history is any indicator, they will sit back and watch. Once the real victors are identified, they will step in and take over completely.”

“Gives the bikers a chance to see who is worth their salt,” concluded Dan.

“Exactly,” replied Jack. “I presume you have most of The Brotherhood listed on CPIC as persons of interest?”

“We do,” replied Dan.

“Could you include that I also be notified of any CPIC hits concerning them?”

“Consider it done,” replied Dan. “Hope you like to read. With the amount of people connected to gangs and their ability to attract police attention, you'll be getting a lot of hits.”

The meeting adjourned with everyone agreeing to keep each other informed of anything that might benefit one another. Dan Mylo had no idea who Cocktail was and said it wasn't a name that had come across any wiretaps or through any other sources. He provided a report from several months previous that showed Zack attending a noisy house party, but most of the people with him were teenagers who belonged to several different youth gangs.

After Dan left, Connie turned to Jack and said, “Any suggestions? It's obvious that OCTF have their hands full already. I think we're basically on our own.”

“One of the lab rats busted a year and a half ago has his trial in three weeks,” said Laura. “A fellow by the name of Kent Rodine. I talked to the narcs and they think the evidence is solid. Rodine was found inside the lab and his fingerprints are on the glassware. It's a jury trial so you never know. If he does go free we could follow him to find out where he hangs his hat. See if he meets with Cocktail. If he doesn't get off, maybe some of his friends will show up to see him off and we could follow them.”

“Three weeks!” said Connie. “On a case where they expect a conviction? I don't want to rely on something that flimsy.”

Jack looked at Laura and said, “Let's get more info on these gangs and watch how they deal. It might lead us to some of the labs.”

“I investigate murders, not dope dealers,” said Connie. “How do you go about it?”

“Through surveillance, arrests, informants —”

“I don't have the time or the manpower for all that,” said Connie. “Even if I did, it would take a long time. Innocent people could be breathing in the fumes from these labs. There must be something we can do. Rodine and his buddies might not even be connected with Cocktail.”

“I don't want to wait, either,” said Jack. “We need an informant on the inside.”

“Yeah, but how?” asked Connie. “You can't exactly run an ad in the
Vancouver Sun
.”

“We need a clearer picture of what the meth situation is about,” replied Jack. “Meth is a massive problem. Did you know that B.C. currently supplies the majority of our planet in meth? Australia, Asia … you name it.”

“Heck of a thing for Canada to be known around the world for,” muttered Connie.

“We can thank our provincial judiciary for their leniency and lack of foresight for that,” replied Laura. “They aren't known for seeing the big picture, are they, Jack?” She gave a wry smile at employing a phrase often used by Jack.

Jack shook his head and said, “We're globally famous for both peacekeeping and supplying the world with methamphetamines. Hell of a combination. Men and women giving their lives for peace around the world while fellow Canadians destroy lives.”

“I don't want to think about it,” said Connie. “Too depressing.”

“We do need to see the big picture,” said Jack, glancing at Laura. “We have to find out everything we can. I'll check with Drug Section, VPD, and Toxicology to get info on anything to do with meth. This is the Easter long weekend. By Tuesday morning we should have enough reports to give us an idea of what is going on. Then we will target someone specifically. Maybe do a quick UC, buy some drugs and see if we can turn an informant. If we find one biker lab, surveillance may lead to more. Eventually we'll find Cocktail.”

“Yeah … unless the bikers look at him as a loose end,” said Connie.

“If they did, VPD would have found his body in the alley alongside Varrick and Zack.”

“Too bad they didn't,” replied Connie. “It would save us all a lot of time.”

“Starting to think like me?” said Jack with a smile.

“I hope not,” replied Connie, frowning.

“Even if he was dead, Satans Wrath would still have others running the labs,” said Laura.

The dismal tone of her voice brought a moment of silence as the investigators thought about the situation. The meeting came to an end with Connie agreeing to see what they could learn over the next few days.

* * *

On Friday night Jack and Natasha sat on the balcony of their condo overlooking the city lights while sipping on a glass of Glayva. Jack snuggled closer to Natasha on the love seat while swilling a taste of the Scotch-based liqueur around in his mouth.
My life is great
, he thought.

He glanced at his watch. It was nine o'clock. It was a moment in time that he would remember.

* * *

Ai-li Cheung walked over to lock the front door of their corner grocery store. Her husband, Frank, had already plodded upstairs to the second storey that was their home for the last thirty-seven years. The sound of the toilet flushing announced where he was.

Ai-li, at sixty-four years of age, was two months younger than her husband. They both planned to retire next year. Up until a few months ago, they always kept the store open until midnight, but the neighbourhood was not what it once was.

Port Coquitlam, less than an hour drive from Vancouver, was no longer a quiet neighbourhood where people knew each other. Shoplifters had become bolder. Empty beer and liquor bottles were often smashed in their small parking lot. Frank often threatened to call the police, but in reality, he was afraid that if he did, the store windows would be smashed in retaliation.

Times had changed from when they used to give free candy to neighbourhood children or run small grocery orders to some of the elderly who lived nearby. The elderly had moved on. Ai-li understood. She did not mind that they closed three hours earlier now. She was looking forward to the day they would close for the last time.

Ai-li was reaching for the door when it was yanked open in front of her. A tall, skinny man with droopy eyes stepped in, waving a syringe containing a bloodly liquid in her face.

“The money,” the addict said. He did not yell, but there was the sound of determination in his voice. “Or I'll stick ya with this … and believe me, AIDS ain't somethin' ya want to have.”

Ai-li nodded her willingness to comply. She was too afraid to talk as she hurried to open the till. The addict followed, but remained on the opposite side of the counter.

“The money,” he repeated. “Hurry up.” He stared intently at Ai-li's face as his body rocked back and forth.

Ai-li quickly took the money from the till and put it in a bag and pushed it toward him.

He remained rocking back and forth, staring at her.

“That's all of it,” she whimpered.

He stared back at her in a stupor before his face contorted in rage. Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and plunged the needle into her arm, injecting the bloody liquid. “I told you to hurry!” he yelled, before letting go and stepping back, still holding the syringe.

Ai-li stood paralyzed in shock as the addict stepped back and waved the empty syringe in the air. The rage left his face and he said, “The money … or I'll stick ya with this. AIDS ain't somethin' ya want …” He stared at the empty syringe and blinked his eyes in confusion.

Ai-li's mouth hung open as she looked at her arm. “I did!” she cried, gesturing to the plastic bag.