It was 5:00 p.m. on Saturday when Greg called Peter to give him his new cellphone number and to let him know that he’d picked up a rental car.
“What’re you up to tonight?”
“Still a little bagged from jet lag. Thought I’d have an early night.”
“We need to talk about something. Are you at the motel?”
“Yup.”
“I’m at home, which is in downtown Vancouver. How about we meet halfway? Say at the Starbucks at Brentwood Town Centre. You know where that is?”
“My car has GPS. I’ll find it. Want to meet now?”
“No, uh, let’s meet there in two hours.”
“Yeah, okay. See ya then,” Greg replied. A moment later he went to the debriefing room, which was being manned by Laura.
“What was his tone like?” Laura asked.
“He was cordial, but not as friendly as before. Judging by that call between Peter and Derek that Hawkins told me about, I think he caught shit. Hopefully he’s not having second thoughts.”
“He’s already sold you two ounces,” Laura noted. “A little late to be backing out. I’ll phone Jack and alert the troops,” she said, reaching for her cellphone.
“Maybe Derek wants to check me out personally,” Greg suggested. “This might turn out to be a good thing.”
* * *
Thirty minutes prior to the meeting, Special O was in position. As before, Jack was in his SUV with Hawkins a kilometre from the mall, and Laura, Alicia, and Bradley were parked beside them. They soon discovered that Derek was indeed attending the meeting — but not in the way they’d hoped.
Jack was alerted to Derek’s arrival in a call from the Special O member in charge of his team. His name was Brian Rhodes, but he’d been nicknamed Bumpy due to acne scarring on his face from when he was a child.
“We’ve got a target vehicle that entered the lot and parked,” Bumpy reported. “It’s the blue Ford van belonging to T-1. The driver hasn’t exited the vehicle.”
Crap. “Hang on,” Jack said, then turned to Hawkins. “Derek’s van showed up and nobody got out.”
“He’s doing countersurveillance,” Hawkins stated.
“For sure, but with what gadgets?” Jack replied. “In his line of work he could have cellphone detectors, bug detectors, radio-frequency detectors, you name it.”
“We’re looking at a busy mall on a Saturday evening,” Hawkins replied. “There’s bound to be a lot of cellphone usage.”
“Yes, but how much coinciding with Peter or Greg’s arrival, then their departure?” Jack turned his attention back to his phone. “Tell your team they’re not to report anything until after the van has left, unless it’s an emergency.”
“I heard your concerns,” Bumpy said. “No problem. I’ll put out the word to cease all chatter and hold positions until after the van is gone.”
Jack updated the occupants of the other car. Everyone waited in silence.
At 7:45 p.m. Bumpy called again.
“Okay, the HQ arrived on time, and T-2 arrived five minutes after in his red Mustang. They had a quick coffee, then came out together, got in their cars, and left. We can confirm that T-2 headed west on the Trans-Canada and HQ went east. The van waited for five minutes, then left heading west, as well. We also confirmed that T-1 was driving.”
“Good, thanks. Did you have an eye on HQ’s car the whole time?”
“Yes. Nobody went near it. Should be safe from bugs and trackers.”
“Great. I’ll call you back in a minute,” Jack replied. He called Greg.
“Hey, Jack. Don’t know if you know, but only Peter showed up. He said he was worried about whether I’d be able to get the cash together for Wednesday and wanted reassurance, otherwise he’d sell to someone else. I told him I’d definitely have it together, but uh, I don’t know.”
“Don’t know what?”
“Seems a little fishy. I’d already assured him I’d have the money by Wednesday. And he knew I was tired. To meet just to reconfirm what we already talked about seems lame.”
Jack told him that Derek had been in a van outside.
“Sounds like these guys know what they’re doing,” Greg said. “Guess we better do it better.”
Thirty minutes later, Jack spoke to Bumpy again. Surveillance on Derek’s office had spotted him returning with his van and parking it in a secure underground parking lot two blocks from his office. Bumpy also asked if Jack would like Special O to assist in planting a bug or tracker on it.
Jack was thankful for the information, but decided it would be too risky to do so, considering Derek had the equipment to scan for such items.
* * *
Greg entered the Paddlewheeler Pub at 12:00 p.m. on Wednesday and took a seat on the patio, then ordered a Kokanee and a plate of breaded calamari. Twenty minutes later, Peter called to say he was running a little late, but would be there in an hour.
At 1:00 p.m. Peter called again. “There’s been a change. I’m at a lounge called Fraser’s Nugget. I’m supposed to meet someone here shortly and the time is getting away from me. Can you pop over so we can talk? It’s about a ten-minute drive from where you are, and there’s parking in the rear. If you take Royal Avenue to —”
“Fraser’s Nugget,” Greg repeated. “I’ll punch it into my GPS. Be there as soon as I can.” The RCMP should buy watches for all the dope dealers. Sure would save a lot of money if they could do things on time for a change. As he returned to his car, he called Jack.
“The place is in Coquitlam, but not far from you,” Jack said. “Drive slow. I’ll make sure Special O has someone in there to cover you before you arrive.”
“Any sign I’m being watched?” Greg asked.
“Not that we can tell. Special O saw Derek arrive at work this morning, and they called me a few minutes ago to say he’s out with a bunch of young people who work for him. They’re currently at a coffee shop near his office having lunch.”
It was 1:20 p.m. when Greg entered Fraser’s Nugget and approached Peter, who was sitting alone at a table. The lounge was quiet and dimly lit. The only other customers were a man and a woman cuddling in a darkened booth, holding hands and looking at each other like naughty children. Their wedding rings said they were married, but it didn’t take much imagination to guess they weren’t married to each other.
“So what’s happening?” Greg asked as he sat down.
“Fuck all,” Peter said angrily.
“What the hell? I thought you were ready to do this? I already rented a room for the cash. You should’ve at least called me earlier.”
“Sorry. It’s my fault. I unloaded the key I promised you to someone else after my connection assured me he had another one on hand. A few minutes ago he tells me that’s gone, too, and he won’t have any more before Saturday.”
“Damn it,” Greg replied. “I don’t know if I can wait. I may need to go elsewhere.”
“Yeah, well, that’s your prerogative.”
He says he’ll have it in three days, but makes no attempt to get me to wait? Greg cleared his throat. “If I wait, is there a chance you’ll come down on price a little?”
Peter glanced at his watch. “I don’t know. I’ll ask.”
The waitress came to take Greg’s order, but Peter said, “Listen, I’m supposed to meet the guy in a few minutes. He’ll be ticked if you’re here. Do you mind?”
Greg smiled apologetically at the waitress. “Sorry, looks like I’m on my way out.”
Greg was halfway to the exit when Peter called after him.
“Hey, Ricky! Give me a call this evening. Maybe we can get together.”
His tone was friendly and it gave Greg hope that everything would turn out okay. “I’ll do that,” he replied.
A moment later, he was walking across the parking lot at the rear of the building and fishing his car keys out of his pocket. He heard a woman call out to him.
“Greg! Greg Dalton! It is you!” she said as she approached. “What are you doing so far from Toronto?”
The woman was tall, attractive, in her midthirties, and had long, dark hair that hung to her shoulders. She wore skin-tight black leather pants and a red silk blouse that offered an ample view of her cleavage. A black leather purse with tassels was draped over one shoulder, and she carried a department store shopping bag in the other hand.
“I’m sorry. You think you know me?” he asked.
The woman smiled. “Jesus, Greg, how drunk were you that night? Are you saying you don’t recognize me with my clothes on?” she teased.
Something moved in his peripheral vision, and Greg realized they weren’t alone. He turned and caught a brief image of a baseball bat before the blow smashed his nose, cheekbone, teeth, and part of his eye socket.
Lying on the asphalt in a daze, he heard the woman’s voice.
“Give him a few more whacks to make sure he’s dead.”