A Delicate Matter Page 15

  “I’m only saying you don’t need to be there when I tell her. You should grab a day off when you can get it. We’re going to be busy.”

  “You’re the one who needs a day off,” Laura said, realizing she sounded sulky.

  “I agree. Hopefully after I debrief her, I’ll be back home by lunch.”

  “Are you going to tell Rose what’s going on?” Laura asked.

  “Obviously not about my plan with Vicki.”

  Laura spun around to look at Jack. “Gee, really?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. “I meant about how we turned her. Will you show Rose the video we took?”

  “From the sidelines as ordered — that ought to be interesting.”

  “So you are going to show the video?”

  “I’ll have to. Once I-POC puts in the requests for foreign assistance to search lawyer’s offices, Rose will demand to know who and how we got the information. Isaac, too, for that matter. It’ll be better to tell them sooner. I wouldn’t want them to think we’re trying to hide something.”

  “Heaven forbid they’d think that,” Laura replied facetiously.

  “We have to be careful,” Jack stressed. “If they don’t think we can protect our informants, they’re liable to shut down the investigation. We’ve got Weenie Wagger, Larry, and Vicki involved. If I don’t convince Rose that they’ll be safe she’ll pass on the concern to Isaac. They’d let Damien walk away scot-free and rich.”

  “How will you handle that with Rose?”

  “I’ll tell her about setting Neal up. When she’s distracted with that I’ll gloss over Vicki’s safety by saying lots of people know about Damien’s bank accounts. Lawyers in Canada, Mexico, the BVI — as well as real estate firms. Isaac will rely on Rose. If I convince her the informants will be safe, it shouldn’t be an issue.”

  “If Bob and Roxie were grabbed by the DEA before returning to Canada,” Laura noted, “it wouldn’t really matter when it comes to seizing Damien’s assets.”

  Jack looked annoyed. “If it did matter, I wouldn’t tell them.”

  “Don’t look at me in such disgust! I was simply thinking out loud.”

  “Okay, thanks, I appreciate that,” Jack replied. “It saves me from having to look at you and read your mind while I’m driving.”

  Laura folded her arms across her chest in frustration. “You can be a real jerk sometimes.”

  “I know … sorry.”

  Laura didn’t speak for several minutes as she mulled things over, but the closer they got to her house, the more stressed she became. This is like riding a runaway roller coaster with Jack at the helm. It’s veering off the tracks — I either have to jump or stay for the ride.

  “You okay?” Jack asked gently. “I know we’re both tired. Feeling edgy.”

  “Besides your plan with Vicki, you plan to toss Neal and Cummings to the bad guys like a couple of sacrificial lambs,” Laura murmured.

  “Poker chips in the game of life,” Jack replied dispassionately. “Besides, neither of them are lambs. As far as I’m concerned, their choice to work for the drug trade contributed to Dwayne being murdered. They didn’t pull the trigger, maybe, but they’re full participants in the industry that got him killed.”

  “Dwayne was in the drug business, too.”

  “I’m not sure Dwayne really knew what he was doing,” Jack replied. “You talked to the poor guy. You know how mentally challenged he was.”

  I know — and I feel horrible about his death, too. And responsible.

  “And he was trying to help us when he got killed,” Jack stated. “In a way he died a hero. I’ll never forget him.”

  “We were really using Larry,” Laura said. At least, that’s what I try to tell myself.

  “Dwayne felt like he was part of it — and I allowed him to think he was. He even called himself a deputy.” Jack swallowed. “I feel sick about it. Sometimes I wish to hell I hadn’t taken the shotgun away from him. Maybe he’d still be alive.”

  “And if you hadn’t, he might have shot some innocent person who was out digging for clams or having a picnic,” Laura said. “I’ve been over it a thousand times.”

  “Me, too. One thing is for sure — Neal and Cummings are not innocent. I’ve no qualms about putting them on the chopping block.”

  Laura glanced at a church they were passing and saw the Sunday-morning worshippers coming down the steps. They were probably in there praying and singing hymns of forgiveness while we’re out here deciding who should be murdered.

  “If you fly with the crows, you get shot with the crows,” Jack said bluntly.

  Laura glanced at Jack and felt a feeling of sadness. She thought about how she’d changed since working with him. Perhaps how we’ve both changed … protecting informants … preventing a gang war … setting people up to be murdered. What’s the right thing to do? She became aware that he was watching her.

  “You disagree?” he asked.

  “Sometimes it’s hard to figure out who the good guys are,” she said.

  “Good guys don’t murder some poor schmuck like Dwayne.”

  Laura sighed.

  “You with me on this?” Jack prodded.

  Oh, man. She turned away and took a deep breath. Jump or stay for the ride? She slowly exhaled and turned back to face him. “Aren’t I always?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Jack pulled into his garage and glanced at his watch. Lunchtime. Good, made it home when I said I would. When he switched the ignition off, Sammy called.

  “Good news,” Sammy said. “The DEA busted two outstanding citizens belonging to the West 12th Street gang who happened to have 250 kilos of weed with them. They arrived in a van and were arrested about two blocks away from where they loaded up. Bob and Roxie didn’t see the bust take place, but I’m sure the shit will hit the fan soon.”

  “Perfect,” Jack said.

  “And somehow you know about the money trail?” Sammy asked.

  “Yes, it’s being laundered through a phony real estate scheme in Mexico. I’ll send you a full report, but I haven’t been to bed since Friday night. I need to get some sleep before I figure out how to word it. Informants are involved.”

  “I presume your real informant isn’t in that semi,” said Sammy.

  “You presume right.”

  “Hopefully we’ll hear a call between Neal and Bob once they find out,” added Sammy.

  “That’d be nice.”

  “Mind you, Benny and I already ripped Neal for the seventy-five and saw him deliver more to Bob. I’d say that’s pretty good evidence for the conspiracy as it is.”

  “I agree, but out of curiosity, should something … say, untoward, happen to Neal, do you still think your conspiracy would be good?”

  “Untoward?” Sammy questioned.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean.” Sammy was quiet for a moment. “No, it wouldn’t weaken the case. With the DEA seizing the two-fifty, I suspect the charges will proceed down there. With the number of years they’ll get in the States, slapping their wrists up here would seem silly.”

  “Good. I’m going in to work tomorrow morning, but hope to take most of the day off. Regardless, call me if anything happens.”

  “Something is always happening when you’re involved,” Sammy replied wryly.

  Jack yawned audibly.

  “I’ll let the monitors know to keep their ears open,” Sammy continued. “Could be some interesting calls. You go ahead and get some sleep — but I’ll be anxious to get your report,” he added before hanging up.

  Jack entered his house and kissed Natasha on the cheek before plunking himself down at the kitchen table. He gazed silently at his two sons as they polished off their lunch. Ten-year-old Mike was eating his favourite toasted sandwich: dill pickle, mustard, and cheese. His brother
, Steve, at a year younger, had finished whatever sandwich he had and was slurping down a glass of milk.

  I love you, guys. I’d do anything to protect you. Damien must love his family, too.

  “Are you done work for the day?” Natasha asked.

  “Yes, but I have to go in tomorrow morning to talk with Rose and do a report. It shouldn’t take long. I hope to be home by noon.”

  Natasha’s face darkened. “That’s what you call a day off? Like your short call this morning that wouldn’t take long?”

  Jack didn’t reply.

  “When will you get time to be a father and a husband?”

  “Yes, I know and I’m sorry,” Jack answered in a groggy monotone. He continued to look at his sons. With Vicki … did I miss anything?

  “Want me to make you a sandwich?” Natasha asked in a tone that revealed her exasperation.

  “No thanks. I’m too tired. I need to crash for a few hours.”

  Natasha eyed him a moment longer. “You look like you’re in a trance.”

  “I’m tired.”

  “Over thirty hours without sleep — I understand why, but I’ve seen you work that long before. This time you seem different. Something wrong?”

  Jack stayed silent.

  “The way you’re looking at the boys. Is everything okay?”

  Jack was too tired to show any enthusiasm. “I think I’m about to get him.”

  “Who?” Natasha asked.

  “The one I’ve been after since before you and I even met.” What, am I afraid to say his name? Would it be like the nightmare I have four or five times a week that we’re being murdered in our bed and the sound of the gunshot jerks me awake? Would saying his name cause me to wake up and realize it was all a dream?

  “Not … You mean him?” Natasha sounded as if she was afraid to say his name, as well.

  Jack saw the anxiety on her face. All these years of wondering if I’d come home alive. Dealing with informants when I wasn’t available. Doing her own heat checks when she was out shopping to ensure she wasn’t being followed home — and having our two little guys with her when she did. Christ, she’s probably been through more hell than I have. Damien was behind much of all that — and she knows it.

  “You’re talking about —”

  “Yes, Damien,” Jack replied sombrely.

  “The man who blew up that young prostitute when you and I first met because she was trying to get out of the sex trade,” Natasha said bitterly.

  “Yes. It was other guys in the club who did it, but he ordered the hit. Her name was Crystal. She was a good person.”

  “After all this time, you think you can nail him?”

  “The next week should tell, but it’s looking good.”

  Natasha’s eyes fell on the boys. “How many middle-of-the-night phone calls have you had since Crystal was murdered? Informants or people whose lives he’s destroyed?”

  Jack shrugged. “You know the answer to that as well as I do. I figure he’s responsible for dozens of murders over the years. Including trying to have me murdered by the drug cartel when I was in Mexico.”

  “So finally you think you’ve got him for murder?”

  “No, I’ve got a lead on his money. It might be better than murder. Judges tend to pay attention when someone doesn’t pay their taxes. They take it personal. Taxes pay their salaries.”

  Natasha nodded. “Follow the money.”

  “You’ve often said that,” Jack noted.

  “It shows people’s real colours — and not only the guys who wear their colours on their backs.”

  Jack smirked.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “You sound like a cop’s wife,” Jack replied.

  “I am.”

  Jack felt a lump in his throat. “You’re more than that. You’ve been my wingman all these years.”

  “Mom, are you talking about following the money because of the politicians?” Mike asked.

  “Some of them,” Natasha said.

  Jack raised a brow. “You’re only ten — how’d you come up with that?”

  “I heard it on the radio,” Mike replied. “It said some politicians have been taking money for things they’re not supposed to. Personal stuff.”

  “Good, then you know to stay out of politics when you get older,” Jack said. “Some are really good people, but others become affected by greed. It can be a dirty business.”

  “Like being a policeman or a defence lawyer,” Steve piped up.

  “Yes, don’t go into those professions either,” Jack replied.

  “I’m going to make computer games when I get older,” Mike declared.

  “Me, too,” Steve said.

  Jack smiled. “I love you guys. Always remember that — but now I need to get some shut-eye.”

  “Do you want me to wake you in time for work tomorrow morning,” Natasha asked, her tone rather dry.

  I’m too tired to take the bait for that conversation. “Wake me before supper — otherwise I’ll never get back on track.” He yawned again. “Sorry about tomorrow, but Rose will need to know what happened. Searches have to be arranged here, in Mexico, and the BVI. It’s not something I can tell her over the phone. She’ll need to see a video I took. Still, I should be home in time for lunch.”

  Natasha looked worried, so he raised an eyebrow in question.

  “You’re not going back to Mexico, are you?” she asked nervously.

  “Definitely not. The investigation is basically out of my hands now. Tomorrow I’ll be turning it over to other sections.”

  Natasha breathed a sigh of relief — then looked concerned again. “Even if you do turn it over, Damien will find out you were behind it. Will he come after you … or us?”

  “Damien’s a businessman. I think his intellect precludes revenge on a police officer or his family.”

  “You think?”

  “When I said that the investigation was basically out of my hands, I was referring to all his assets being seized,” Jack replied. “There’s another aspect to my plan that has yet to be played out. When it is, Damien will have bigger problems on his mind than coming after me.”

  “Your plan … is it something I should worry about?”

  Jack understood her concern. “I won’t be working in any grey areas, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Ah … good. I won’t need to worry about Internal Affairs bugging our phones or our house.”

  Jack chuckled. No grey areas. Mind you, the brass would never allow it. “Let me say that Damien is very much a family man. His loyalty to the club is beyond reproach, but in his heart, I think that his love for his family is stronger. My plan will make him realize that his own family’s survival will be dependent upon my survival.”

  Natasha studied Jack’s face. “Damien is an extremely dangerous man. I don’t know what your plan is, but if it involves a threat against his family … well, how would you respond if it was you?”

  Jack lowered his voice. “You know how I’d respond.” Can’t you talk about something else? This isn’t the kind of stuff you say out loud.

  “You’d respond the same way as Damien would,” Natasha said.

  “This is different — and I don’t appreciate you comparing me to Damien. You’ve no idea of the scope of what he’s capable of or what he’s done.”

  “It’s what he’s capable of that scares me,” she replied.

  Jack met her gaze. Yeah, he scares me too.

  “I know you’re good at what you do. I have to believe that because I couldn’t live with the worry to think otherwise. You’ve survived years of rubbing shoulders with some really bad people.”

  “Then don’t worry now,” Jack said.

  “Damien’s also a survivor,” said Natasha. “Be careful.”

  “I alw
ays am.”

  Minutes later Jack climbed into bed and closed his eyes. He expected that exhaustion would take over. It didn’t. Natasha’s mention of the young prostitute tugged at his memory.

  Damn it, Crystal. You really cared about other people. You shouldn’t have had to die like that. He tossed off the sheets and retrieved an old notebook from his dresser, then sat with it on the edge of the bed. He didn’t know why he did. The memory was all too vivid. He and his partner at the time — Danny O’Reilly — had come upon Crystal seconds after a car bomb had turned her into a human torch.

  It was the look in her eyes before she died that he remembered. Danny had remarked that her eyes were questioning him — as if he was responsible for her death. Jack didn’t see it that way. He thought her eyes were asking for justice. He hoped his own eyes had conveyed an unspoken promise that justice would be served.

  And in part, justice had been served. The bikers who planted the bomb were killed later, but it was Damien who had given them the order and was still a loose end who’d never been brought to justice.

  He found Crystal’s name in his notebook, along with an account of what happened. It was like looking into her eyes again.

  I’ve never forgotten you, Crystal, and I sure as hell haven’t forgotten Damien.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Jack arrived at his office Monday morning an hour and a half early. He prepared a brief report outlining what Vicki had told him — and his decision to have the DEA seize all the marijuana in Dallas. At 8:30 a.m. he heard Rose arrive, so he went to her office, set his laptop and the report on her desk, and took a seat.

  “I thought you were taking today off,” she said, glancing at a note he’d left her Saturday morning. “You said you were working Saturday and taking Monday off.” She eyed the laptop and the report. “What’s going on?”

  “Turned out there’s lots going on,” Jack replied. “Laura and I ended up working a thirty-hour shift — Saturday morning through to Sunday noon. I came in to debrief you and get you to sign off on the report so it could be forwarded ASAP. I still hope to be home by noon.”