Jerry Langton Three-Book Bundle (58 page)

Kane, Grimard, David, Proulx and Audet were arrested. A search of Grimard's house netted the SQ the guns and bomb-making equipment, but Kane's C4, drugs and drug paraphernalia were safely stashed in Josée's apartment. While the kidnappers and torturers were in jail, their lawyers made a deal with prosecutors: they'd plead guilty to all charges as long as the attempted murder charge was dropped. Kane, who was identified as the leader of the group, got the worst sentence, two years less a day plus three years probation. Just before he left for prison, Kane learned Josée was pregnant again.

Inside Montreal's notorious Bordeaux prison Kane met someone who changed his life. Every prison has at least some inmates like Tamara, men who behave with excessive, stylized femininity and exchange sex and other favors for protection and companionship. And Tamara himself attached to Kane, who began to realize he liked sex with men as much as with women.

Things changed on the outside, too. Josée gave birth to a daughter, Nathalie, and the Condors ceased to exist. Seeking to consolidate operations on the South Shore, Stadnick decided to have the Evil Ones absorb the best of the Condors and force the others into retirement. Pat Lambert was welcome to join, but decided instead to operate his drug sales and stripper booking/escort agency independently. When he was released from prison, Kane was approached by the Evil Ones to be a hangaround, but he chose to stick with Lambert. In return, Lambert introduced Kane to David Carroll, who immediately liked him, and Carroll introduced him to Stadnick. The biker chieftain was impressed by Kane's physique and his resumé—he was an expert biker who'd sold drugs and guns with visible success, he'd blown up a bar, gone to Bordeaux and not told on anyone. Rather than slowly working his way through the Evil Ones' ranks, Kane became a Hells Angels prospect almost as soon as he showed up.

And he was Stadnick's first choice to be in charge of the Hells Angels' puppet gang in Ontario. He even named it—the Demon Keepers—using his own initials. The plan was simple and decidedly corporate: the Demon Keepers would move into Ontario towns and offer high-quality drugs at lower prices than existing gangs, with better delivery. Kane worked hard to get things ready and on January 29, 1994, at a party in Sorel to inaugurate the new gang, he showed off his hand-designed colors.

With an eye to expanding, the Demon Keepers set up shop in Ottawa, Cornwall (at the narrow part of the St. Lawrence across the river from where Quebec and New York State meet) and Toronto, the richest drug market in Canada. There were significant problems from the start. Instead of an easily defended industrial or commercial space, Kane chose a luxurious third-floor apartment in the trendy Yonge- Eglinton area of Toronto to be the Demon Keepers' headquarters, a move local police found hilarious.

A bigger problem than Kane's taste in clubhouse was his staff. Culled from puppet gangs on the South Shore, the Demon Keepers were recruited for their size and toughness, not their intellect. Years later, Kane would describe the men at his disposal as “no-talent imbeciles.” Worse than their stupidity was their inability to speak English, their lack of underworld contacts and understanding of the Ontario drug culture. Under Kane's direction, the Demon Keepers approached bikers, toughs, strippers, bouncers, bartenders and other potential customers from Ottawa to Niagara Falls. But their awkward, unsubtle style and their broken English were met with little but confusion and scorn. With virtually no sales, they did very little but keep an eye on local Outlaws and plot to kill them, although no shots were fired. The only success Kane had was to find an office where Lambert could import fresh Quebec strippers to more lucrative gigs in Toronto. Looking for help, Kane repeatedly called Carroll, but he was always too drunk or hungover to be of much help. Frustrated, he resorted to calling Stadnick, who was busy taking care of business in Winnipeg and Montreal. The exasperated, distracted president told him he wasn't being aggressive enough and suggested that the Demon Keepers start wearing their colors more prominently. That idea backfired almost immediately. Within two weeks, 11 of the 18 Toronto Demon Keepers were arrested on minor infractions. The Toronto police, who'd been tipped off by the SQ and OPP that the Demon Keepers were representing the Hells Angels, made them a deal—no charges if they would get out of Ontario and stay out. All of them took it. Despite the difficulty, Kane soldiered on, although he told police later that he often wondered if Stadnick had set him up to fail.

On the afternoon of April 1, 1994—April Fool's Day—Denis Cournoyer, the Demon Keepers' second in command, dropped by the Sorel headquarters to pick up Kane. They could hardly have been more inconspicuous in Cournoyer's 1992 Chevrolet Corsica, but they were tailed by the SQ as they drove down Autoroute 20 at exactly the speed limit. They stopped in Montreal to pick up another Demon Keeper, Michel Scheffer, at his girlfriend's place, and then drove towards Ontario. But, thanks to an informant embedded within the new gang, the SQ knew where they were going and alerted the OPP. When Kane and Cournoyer crossed the border into Ontario where Autoroute 20 becomes Highway 401, the OPP, who were waiting on Roy's Road, took over the chase. A series of unmarked cars followed the Corsica to Belleville and down the Front Street exit to the parking lot of a Wendy's fast food restaurant patronized mainly by truckers and travelers on the 401.

Kane, Cournoyer and Scheffer planned to meet more Demon Keepers there, drive to Toronto and reinforce the chapter. Cournoyer was told to look for a yellow Mustang, which would contain his gang members. They were there, and so were the OPP. At 10:05, Cournoyer parked the Corsica next to the Mustang and opened the door. Before he was out the car, he heard it. “Freeze! You're under arrest!” His English wasn't very good, but he knew what was up. His first thought was to get back into the Corsica and speed away, but the OPP had blocked both cars. Kane, Cournoyer, Scheffer and the Demon Keepers in the Mustang surrendered without incident. In fact, the OPP was so proud of how easy the bust was, they used footage of it in instructional and promotional videos. An intensive search of the Mustang revealed nothing, and its occupants were free to go.

The guys in the Corsica would have to stick around. The police found a .357 Magnum under Kane's seat and a green Hefty bag with a nickel-plated .32 under the back seat, where Scheffer was sitting. In the trunk, they uncovered three jackets with Demon Keepers colors, a hunting rifle, ammunition for all three guns and gloves with lead sewn into the fingers. Kane tensed up when he saw Dillon, the OPP's German Shepherd, arrive. Within seconds, Dillon found a gram of hash between the front seats.

Kane, Cournoyer and Scheffer were locked up. A couple of simple computer checks put things in perspective for the police. Cournoyer and Scheffer had relatively clean records but the torture session at the quarry showed up on Kane's, and the OPP correctly determined that he was the boss. Worse yet, the Magnum showed up as stolen, and since it was under his seat, the police linked it to Kane. The three accused were allowed to confer with Peter Girard, a Belleville criminal lawyer. Since Kane's record meant that he'd end up behind bars no matter what, he'd take the bulk of the blame; and since Cournoyer was one of the few bikers under Hells Angels' control who knew how to make PCP and crystal meth, he'd be portrayed as an unwitting driver. The OPP accepted their terms. Cournoyer was released, Scheffer got two months on a restricted weapons charge and Kane was sentenced to four months for possession of a restricted weapon and another four (to be served concurrently) for possession of stolen property. The gram of hash was forgiven.

Barely two months after their inception, Stadnick disbanded the Demon Keepers, telling all but three of them to get lost and stay lost. His bold, but poorly executed, plan was an abject failure and he wanted to put what had become a humiliating chapter in Hells Angels history behind him. Stadnick also sent a message to Kane in Quinte Correctional Centre that the Hells Angels held no grudge against him and that he was welcome at Sorel when he was freed.

What happened next is a matter of disagreement. The RCMP claim that Kane called Interpol's Ottawa office, and they transferred his call to them. Other officers maintain that Kane asked a prison guard at Quinte to get him in touch with the RCMP. Either way, Kane agreed to become what the RCMP call an “agent-source”—a paid informant—embedded within the Hells Angels. He'd have plenty to talk about.

When Kane got out of prison, he visited Sorel to feel out his standing. He spoke with Carroll, who'd been his strongest supporter in the past. Drunk again, he seemed genuinely happy to see Kane, but advised him that his best course of action would be to join the Evil Ones as a prospect and work his way up the ladder. Disappointed, Kane cautiously approached Stadnick. Although Stadnick had little time for Kane, he didn't seem angry over the Demon Keepers fiasco, just distracted. He'd stepped down from the office of national president on June 30 for a secret project with Boucher and neither appeared interested in anything else.

Stadnick's replacement as national president, Robert “Ti-Maigre” Richard, didn't exactly strike Kane as someone he could get close to. Like many bikers, Richard's nickname was a joke. “Ti-Maigre,” which is often translated as “Tiny” in English, is actually closer to “Li'l Skinny,” hardly an accurate description of the 300-pound mammoth. A veteran sergeant-at-arms for the Sorel chapter, Richard is said by many to have been an instrumental player in the Lennoxville Massacre, despite his acquittal.

A quiet man who emanated strength and malice, he was unapproachable by all but the most courageous. One young biker managed to penetrate Richard's tough exterior and become not only his protégé, but his trusted friend: Scott Steinert was a tall, handsome American who, even police admitted, could be utterly charming. He was so charming that, under Richard's massive influence, Steinert became a Sorel prospect without having to apprentice in a puppet gang or even serve as a hangaround. Life as a prospect for him was easy, as many full-patch members treated him with undue respect for fear of angering the volatile Richard.

Kane immediately attached himself to the rising star and the two became good friends very quickly, with Steinert serving as godfather at the christening of Guillaume, the son Josée gave birth to while Kane was in Quinte. What impressed Kane most was Steinert's plan to start his own puppet gang in the Belleville/Kingston area, which would import drugs from the United States across the St. Lawrence and sell them to the huge prison population in the area. It couldn't happen until he was a full-patch member, but Kane was sure that wouldn't take long and that Steinert—aggressive, confident and bilingual—could succeed where Stadnick had failed. Kane considered him to be the future of the club, and an alliance would allow him the flexibility to choose his loyalty—to the Hells Angels or the RCMP—whenever he wanted.

One reason Stadnick and Boucher were too busy for the presidency and Kane was that they smelled blood. With the Outlaws virtually extirpated from Quebec, the only gang that stood in the way of the Hells Angels' total domination of the province was the rapidly growing Rock Machine. With 51 full-patch members and many associates in the Montreal underworld, the Rock Machine was beginning to represent a serious threat. But when founders Salvatore and Giovanni Cazzetta both went to prison in separate drug-smuggling incidents that year, Boucher tried to convince Stadnick that it was the time to strike. Without their leaders, he argued, the Rock Machine would fall apart under even a small amount of pressure. After much thought, Stadnick agreed.

With that decision Stadnick launched a plan that would change Canadian organized crime forever and give him power far beyond what he held as national president of the Hells Angels. He would create an elite super-gang that was almost impervious to prosecution. He would also unleash a gang war that would take the lives of almost 200 people, including an 11-year-old boy, and imperil the very government of Quebec.

It didn't start with a bang. Or a boom. Instead, the Hells Angels' war against the Rock Machine began with a politely worded letter. On a pretty, almost cloudless August afternoon in 1994, Hells Angels national president Robert “Ti-Maigre” Richard walked over to the Rock Machine clubhouse in Montreal and dropped an envelope on the steps. It was a typically bold move by the one-eyed, 300-pound Richard, who wore his colors into enemy territory for the event.

In the note, the Hells Angels simply asked the Rock Machine to stop calling themselves a motorcycle club. They had a point, since almost none of the Rock Machine members, especially after the Cazzettas were incarcerated, owned or even rode motorcycles. But it was not a mere lesson in semantics. The members of the Rock Machine understood what the note really meant—Quebec is Hells Angels turf; your presence is not welcome here.

But it was too late for mere intimidation. As the Hells Angels and their puppet gangs swallowed up more and more of the Montreal drug market, many street-level dealers became disenchanted with their tactics. If a dealer wanted to sell drugs in a Hells Angels neighborhood, he had to sell Hells Angels' drugs at Hells Angels' prices. If that dealer went to a different source, he would have to pay a Hells Angels' penalty—perhaps his life. Since no single group had the manpower or will to stand up to the Hells Angels, many turned to the No. 2 gang, the Rock Machine. Since they had also seen their bottom line suffer, the Rock Machine gladly accepted them and moved to establish a new force to fight the Hells Angels.

Simply called the Alliance, the new group consisted of the Rock Machine, Montreal's few remaining Outlaws, some independent dealers and a number of bar owners who sold drugs in their establishments and referred to themselves as the Dark Circle. Identified by a ring with an engraved eagle's claw, the Dark Circle was very effective in recruiting young soldiers, even those with no criminal record, to fight for their right to sell cocaine. Their presence swelled the ranks of the otherwise small Rock Machine to a size and confidence that allowed them to take on the Hells Angels in Quebec in a way the Outlaws couldn't.