Above Ground (7 page)

After some further discussion about union affiliation for targeted interests and overseas expansion, Lance opened the door to get out but stopped and said, “Oh yeah, almost forgot to tell ya. There's something else.” He waited until Danny retrieved his notebook again.

11) Damien to handle public relations in the event of any bad press on the club. Might also arrange
some charity drive as a result of the bad press from the labs being taken down
.

Jack and Danny arrived back at the office and Jack said, “Take out your notebook, I want you to make another entry.”

“Sure,” said Danny, pulling out his notebook. “Okay, what?”

“Source advises he might be able to set up Lance and Damien but is concerned about being identified.”

Danny grinned when he understood Jack's comment. If his notebook ever fell into the wrong hands or was ordered revealed by some judge, then the bad guys would think Whiskey Jake was the informant.

Moments later, Jack and Danny told Louie what they had learned.

“I think the report on the Indos came from Dick Molen,” said Jack. “The Mole ... Molen. Think about it. The report is fresh, and two days ago Molen asked me how I knew about the speed labs.”

“What did you say?” asked Danny.

“I told him it was through surveillance. He volunteered to assist. I thought it strange then because I hardly know the guy, but I passed it off as someone else wanting to help.”

“What can we do about him?” asked Danny. “If we do anything, we risk burning our friend.”

“First let's confirm it's Molen,” said Louie. “If it is, he will slowly have to be neutralized. All reports to him will have to be sanitized. I'll speak to Isaac. If it's him, then down the road we could have him transferred someplace — like Highway Patrol on Baffin Island.”

“This will have to be handled with extreme care,” said Jack. “Our friend's life depends upon it.”

“I fully understand. We could start by submitting a false report and see where it ends up. Something juicy to demand immediate action.”

“I like that idea,” said Jack. “Maybe indicate the Indos are about to do a hit next week. Speculate that it might be on the bikers. A day or so later, follow it up with another report to indicate that the hit is on some low-level trafficker behind on his debts.”

“Good,” said Louie. “I don't want to scare anyone into starting a war.”

“That would get messy,” said Jack. “Satans Wrath has generally learned to be precise, but the Indos have a flair for drive-by shootings. Innocent people could get killed.”

Louie reached for his phone and said, “I'll try and meet with Isaac now. Tomorrow is Friday. If Isaac agrees, we could provide Molen with the fake report first thing Monday morning.”

“Good enough,” said Jack, “except I have a funeral to go to tomorrow.”

Louie understood. “No worries. I'll look after it.”

“There's always worries,” replied Jack. “Our friend is in a hell of a position.”

“Yeah, a great position for us,” said Danny.

“See if you feel that way when he starts fulfilling the responsibilities associated with his position,” replied Jack.

Louie gestured for them to be quiet as he spoke with Isaac. He hung up and said, “All of us have an immediate audience. Wants to hear a shortened version now, with a written report to follow.”

Jack sat forward in the stuffed leather chair and quickly provided Isaac with the organizational structure and history of Satans Wrath.

Isaac listened carefully to Jack's words. “They have their own hit squad, surveillance teams, and intelligence unit ... which is highly funded,” Jack added.

A flicker of Isaac's eyes told Jack that his point had been heard. He then continued, “For their intelligence unit, corruption and knowledge of the enemy is the name of the game. They are actively targeting transportation systems. Currently, they have some influence over the unions, particularly at the docks, and are working on the airports, railways, and trucking firms. They're also expanding elsewhere.”

“Such as?” asked Isaac.

“Anything to do with import and export. Downtown Vancouver is the western terminus for CN and CP Rail. We have Canada's largest deep-sea ports and are the gateway to the Orient. Deep-sea freighters exchange products from all over the world here. With Seattle just spitting distance away, large amounts of goods are shipped back and forth by truck and rail.”

“These fellows certainly aren't sluggish when it comes to expansion,” commented Isaac.

“There's more,” said Jack. “The Trans-Canada Highway and U.S. Interstate Highway system are also vital links. Vancouver airport is continually expanding to provide international air cargo and passenger transportation across the Pacific and to Europe. Feelers have already been put out with the Russian mafia for potential partnerships. On the home front, they've set their sights on politicians. Control of the unions helps with that, since politicians don't like strikes.”

Leitch sipped on his Starbucks cappuccino and listened carefully as Ray passed on the instructions from The Boss. The anonymous note to RCMP Homicide would
be sent immediately. Leitch was all too familiar with police investigative techniques.
No prints. Leave no DNA under the seal. Use common bond paper.

“So you see,” said Ray, “the mistaken hit is no longer a mistake. It has worked in our favour. Who would have guessed that such a minor error would cause a policeman to grieve? You would think he would have been pleased that it was not him. It's really quite extraordinary how the police react in this country.”

Leitch politely nodded his head in agreement, but his thoughts were still on delivering the message.

“I must admit, The Boss has come up with an excellent idea. We will make it look intentional. Murdered simply because he had the same name. Ensure that the police realize that no harm will befall Officer Taggart. Soon, it will be someone he works with or perhaps a friend or loved one. He will become a pariah. Let it be warning to any other officer who is energetic regarding organized crime that they may expect the same.”

“Organized crime is so general,” said Leitch, “that they won't —”

“Precisely! They won't know who to blame. Is it Satans Wrath? The Indos, Russians, Vietnamese — who? I think it is quite entertaining, really. Who cares if they do blame any of those groups? It won't really affect us. The Boss is right. Why turn Taggart into a hero?”

“This will cause quite a stir,” said Leitch.

“Fear: it is the first step in making the law ineffective. The judiciary already appears indifferent. Why, as a policeman, would you want to risk your life or that of your loved ones? They will be both afraid and demoralized.”

Leitch thought about it.
The police will concentrate on criminals at the bottom end, who will flourish as a consequence. Legal aid will pay well!

“Are you listening?” asked Ray.

Leitch put his dream on hold and quickly looked up and nodded.

“Naturally,” continued Ray, “we will follow up quickly by disposing of someone connected with Taggart. With his feelings of sympathy for the widow, I bet the chap shows up at the funeral tomorrow.”

There were only a few days left in April. The leaves had been out on most of the trees for a month and the Japanese plum trees were in full bloom. Despite an unusual surge of cold weather, it was a beautiful, sunny morning.
Too nice
, thought Jack,
to be put in a coffin at the age of thirty-two and lowered into the ground
. He felt Natasha put her arm around him and he did the same with her.

The church had been crowded, mostly with people who had read about the incident and felt a need to show compassion.

The news media made up the rest of the crowd. He saw Holly clutching Jenny to her side.
They look so all alone...

He thought of Charlie in intensive care.
Maybe just as well. To see him sitting here ... in a wheelchair at his father's grave ... I couldn't handle it
.

As the casket was lowered deeper into the earth, he heard Susan sob and instinctively put his other arm around her shoulders, but felt Danny's arm and withdrew his own. He glanced down at Tiffany, who was clinging to her mother's leg. Susan was holding Jimmy close to her breast and Jack knew Tiffany felt left out. He nudged her and held out two fingers. It made him feel better when she latched on.

At the conclusion to the service, Jack, Natasha, and the O'Reillys walked down the street toward their cars. Jack's cellphone vibrated and he answered.

“Oh, I say, ol' chap, who have I reached here?”

“Jack Taggart.”

“Dreadfully sorry, I think I have the wrong number.”

Jack hung up and saw Holly approaching. She was pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair and Jenny was walking beside her. She gestured for Jack to wait.

“Thank you for coming,” she said. “I appreciated seeing at least one face in the crowd that I recognized.”

Jack introduced Holly and Jenny to Natasha, Danny, and Susan.

Holly looked at the elderly woman and said, “This is Jack's mom. Mom, this is...” She stopped, not knowing what to say.

Jack was taken aback for a moment as the realization sunk in, then he stuck out his hand and said, “You're Jack Taggart's mother...”

She politely took his hand and tearfully said, “George couldn't be here today. He's too sick, you know. I must get back to him.”

“I understand,” said Jack.

“I think we should go,” said Holly. “Thanks again for coming. Thanks to all of you.”

As Holly wheeled Mrs. Taggart away, Jack heard her ask, “Who was that, dearie? You didn't tell me his name.”

Jack felt a flood of emotion at Holly's response. It made him feel better but also caused him to bite the end of his tongue to keep from crying.

“A friend of the family, Mom. Just a friend.” Natasha kissed him on the cheek and whispered, “Guess you were right, coming here.”

Jack's cellphone vibrated again.

“Sorry, have I dialled the same wrong number again?”

“You have,” replied Jack, and hung up. He then walked Natasha over to her car so that she could drive to work.

“Jack!” Susan yelled. “Why don't you come to our place now? I'll make sandwiches for lunch and you can stay for dinner. We're having a roast with Yorkshire pudding. There will be lots.”

Jack's reply was interrupted by a car horn. He saw that the driver had protested his annoyance at being cut off when a green van with tinted windows pulled out from the curb in front of him. A fist, with the middle finger pointing upward, briefly extended out the van window.

Jack accepted Susan's invitation before kissing Natasha goodbye and walking back to his own car.

Albert Dawson stood beside the bed and brushed the hair back from his wife's face. At eighty-six years of age, Esther was two years younger than her husband. She couldn't ignore the pain in her hip any longer and reluctantly decided to follow the doctor's advice and stay off it for a few days. It was almost noon and the warm sun coming through the window added to her dismay.

Albert saw the frustration in her face. “Won't be long, Essie, and you'll be up and about. I'll make you some soup and tea when I come back. Then I'll read to you.”

“Take your time. I'll entertain the mailman while you're gone,” she replied, sounding gruff.

Albert gave his wife a look of loving devotion brought on by sixty-seven years of marriage.

Esther stared back. She was legally blind and could not see his face, but she remembered the look well and sensed it. She imagined it more as his warm hand squeezed her shoulder and in the gentle kiss that followed. Albert then stood upright, using his cane to steady his balance.

In 1944, Albert had been a rear gunner in a Lancaster flying over Germany. He was smaller and thinner than most men, which suited his cramped quarters in the Lancaster just fine. Unfortunately his position also caused him to receive a fist-sized piece of shrapnel to his knee. Pain was something he had long learned to live with.

“Mailman, aye! If he's here when I get back I'll kick his ass.”

Essie chuckled as Albert left the room.

Moments later, Albert carefully locked the door to the house and headed down the street.

The mall was only two blocks from their house, but Albert was the sociable type. What would have been a quick stop at an ATM and a drug store for most people took him considerably longer. It was an hour before he returned home and stepped inside.

“Essie! What's this mail bag doing in the living room?” he yelled.

“Quick, my husband's home! Hide under the bed!” came her staged whisper from the bedroom.

Albert's eyes twinkled as he was about to reply, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was a man with a knife.

Jack was glad that Natasha was off for the weekend. They spent it together, trying out a few new recipes that they paired with an appropriate wine. It gave them a chance to talk and unwind a little. For a brief period of time, Jack's brain overruled his heart and told him that the funeral was linked to him in name only.

By Monday morning, Jack was feeling somewhat refreshed and was waiting when Louie arrived at work.

“You're early,” commented Louie, hanging up his jacket on a hook behind the door. “How did the funeral go on Friday?”

“It went,” Jack replied, then paused and asked, “Molen ... is it set?”

“Told you I would look after it. I did. He'll get the fake report this morning. Anti-Corruption is handling the investigation. How do you feel about the meeting with Isaac last Thursday?”

“It was okay. I agree with the game plan for Molen, but we need to tread carefully.”