Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

On Monday morning Jack received an unexpected call from Gabriel Parsons, inviting him over for tea.

“I don’t know if you know,” said Gabriel, “but we’ve moved to a new home in Richmond. Well … not exactly new. About the same as our other place, but new to us. A new start, I pray.”

That was fast, thought Jack, before realizing three months had passed since Father Brown was murdered. Three months and we’re no further ahead …

Jack arrived at the new address and Gabriel invited him inside for tea and freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies.

“I wanted to apologize,” said Gabriel. “I believe I was rude to you when … well, when we first met. I was blaming you for allowing these men to make drugs in my basement.”

“I’m the policeman, not the judge who let them out,” said Jack.

“I realize that. I also spoke with my neighbour before I moved. Was it you who came and cleaned the back of my house?”

Jack nodded and recalled the numerous sprays of blood that he had scrubbed off. It made him conscious of how much time had passed while a monster remained on the loose.

“That was a very Christian thing to do. Out of curiosity, what church do you belong to?”

“I’m an atheist.”

“Oh … I see,” replied Gabriel, with a frown.

“How is Faith?” asked Jack, intentionally changing the subject.

“She’s still in hospital. She has one more round of radiation to go. The doctor seems optimistic. I have been praying that God does not take her from me this soon.”

“And your son? How is he doing?”

“Noah is … well, he’s had to adjust to a new school. He’s been fighting. I think he is angry at the world. He and Father Brown were close. It was like he lost his father all over again. At least the doctors say he is healthy.”

“Would you like me to talk to him?”

“Thank you, but no. Together, our faith in God will see us through these troubled times. The school counsellor is also involved.”

“I see. And your daycare? Have you started up again?”

“I have one dear little toddler for three days a week when her mother works. Hopefully more will come later. All of my previous clients have taken their children elsewhere. I can’t blame them, I suppose.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Gabriel shrugged off his comment and said, “I also have a basement suite, but have been afraid to … well, after last time ... would you happen to know anyone? Perhaps a young police officer or someone who would be interested?”

“Not offhand, but I will ask around,” replied Jack.

The rest of the visit went well, but Jack felt mixed emotions when he left. He was relieved that Gabriel was not blaming him, but at the same time he spotted a photograph of Faith and felt frustrated that he was no closer to identifying Cocktail than he was months earlier.

Two more weeks passed with little activity until the day that Kent Rodine appeared for his trial over his charges stemming from when seven labs were raided. Jack and Laura, both parked outside the courthouse, waited for a call from one of the Drug Section investigators. The call came early in the afternoon.

“Jack. Sammy here. You wouldn’t believe the performance. Rodine’s girlfriend looks like she’s going to give birth any moment. They were being all kissy-face and he was patting her stomach. Once, when Rodine was being cross-examined I think she had a contraction. The jury couldn’t take their eyes off of her.”

“Do you know her name?”

“I heard the lawyer refer to her as Miss Venice when he asked if she was okay.”

“Is the jury still out?”

“No, they’re back already. It’s the fastest I’ve seen a jury reach a decision. Guess they didn’t want to watch a baby being born in front of them. No big surprise, they found Rodine not guilty. Didn’t matter that his fingerprints were on the glassware. Good news for you, but to me the whole thing sucks.”

“You got an eye on them?”

“Yeah, they should be coming out soon. He groomed for court and is clean shaven with short hair and wearing a blue, pin-striped suit. She is as big as a house. You can’t miss them. Hang on … the lawyer is walking with them. You should see all of them in about half a minute.”

“Who is the lawyer?” asked Jack.

“A biker lawyer. Basil Westmount.”

“Same one that Varrick had,” replied Jack. “That’s a good sign. Could mean that Rodine is close to Satans Wrath.”

“Good luck.”

Rodine, Venice, and Westmount left the courthouse together and walked to a nearby lounge. Jack and Laura walked in as their targets sat down in a booth. Connie, along with several other I-HIT members, remained outside to continue the surveillance when they left.

Although the lighting was dim, there were no other customers and Jack knew that they could not sit beside them in the next booth and listen without attracting attention.

“What do you figure?” whispered Laura. “Maybe we should wait outside.”

“I’d like to know if Cocktail’s name comes up,” replied Jack.

“They’ll burn us if we try to listen in on —”

“Come on,” said Jack, taking Laura by the hand and walking over and sitting at the booth adjoining Westmount, Rodine, and Venice. Westmount, who had been talking, became quiet as soon as Jack and Laura sat down. Laura looked at Jack and grimaced.

“Let’s sit farther back where it’s darker,” said Jack, standing up. “Your hubby works around here. If he walks in, it’s better if we see him first.”

Westmount watched quietly as Jack and Laura moved to a table farther away before resuming their conversation. Rodine and Venice did not seem to notice and were still excited from their victory in court.

“Told you sitting next to them wasn’t a good idea,” said Laura.

“Guess you were right,” replied Jack.

“Oh, man,” muttered Laura. “Venice ordered a beer. I want to go over there and tell her off.”

“And you thought sitting next to them would heat us up,” replied Jack. “Forget that idea.”

After three drinks each and an hour later, Rodine, Venice, and Westmount left the lounge. Jack was glad that neither man gave them a second look. His actions earlier hadn’t caused them concern.

Laura used her BlackBerry to call Connie. “Got ’em?” Laura asked.

“Ten-four,” replied Connie. “They meet anyone?”

“No. Jack and I will have to play catch-up.” As she spoke, Laura saw Jack go over to the bench that Westmount had been sitting on. Laura continued to talk to Connie and said, “We’ll call you when — oh, man!”

“What is it?” asked Connie.

Laura watched as Jack bent over and retrieved an object from under the bench.

“Laura? What’s wrong?” asked Connie.

“Uh … nothing. Almost broke a nail.”

By the time Jack and Laura returned to their car, Connie called to say that Rodine and Venice had said goodbye to Westmount and were getting in a car. The car was registered to a low-level drug trafficker in Richmond. Jack wondered if the car was “loaned” because the owner was behind on a drug payment. Not an uncommon practice in the drug business.

As Laura wheeled through traffic to catch up to the surveillance team, she said, “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

“Hear it?”

“Your voice-activated recorder. Smooth, I didn’t see you do it.”

“Taping Rodine without a judge’s order … Laura, I’m aghast. That would be illegal.”

“It would be illegal, anyway. Conversation with his lawyer is privileged.” She snapped, “Quit pretending! I saw you go back to where Westmount was sitting.”

“This is strictly between the two of us,” said Jack, as he took the recorder out of his jacket.

“It had better be,” said Laura seriously.

“We listen once and I erase it.”

“Erasing a problem is easier than burying it in a cemetery,” replied Laura.

Jack put his finger to his lips, gesturing to Laura to be quiet as he played back the recorder.

The first conversation they heard was Venice laughing as she said, “Well, do you think it’s time for me to give birth to an eight-pound pillow?”

“I would prefer if you waited until you were back in the car,” said Westmount. “I wouldn’t like to take a chance that we run into the judge or juror members when we leave.”

“If you insist,” giggled Venice. “How was my performance?”

“Outstanding,” said Westmount. “I’m tempted to hire you for other cases. Next time maybe you could babysit someone’s infant and bring it to court.”

“You think I’m that good?”

“You were really good, honey,” said Rodine.

“Cute touch on your part, too,” said Westmount, “by patting her stomach.”

Jack paused the recorder and said, “And you thought she was going to be a bad mother. Jumping to conclusions like that. Shame on you,” he said, with mock admonishment.

“I don’t know whether to be happy that she isn’t pregnant or angry at her deceit.”

Jack clicked the recorder back on. The rest of the conversation was uneventful up until Westmount ordered the bill from the waiter.

“Speaking of bills,” said Westmount, “do you want to pay me now? I never know where to send your invoice.”

“Tomorrow is Friday, which is delivery day for me,” replied Rodine. “I’ve got the ol’ cookie sheets full. Tomorrow morning I’ll bag and deliver. I can bring you the cash then.”

“I’ve got a trial scheduled for ten tomorrow morning,” replied Westmount.

“Not a problem. I’ll be on the road by six. Gotta have it delivered by eight. I could still make it to your office by nine.”

“Perfect,” replied Westmount. “I’ll give you the invoice then.”

“Wish the invoice really matched what I have been paying you,” grumbled Rodine.

“Hey, we talked about that. I’ve warned you that leaving a paper trail could put you in jeopardy if they ever go after you with a proceeds of crime investigation.”

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” chuckled Rodine. “You’re saving yourself from paying taxes.”

“Okay, so our partnership is of a mutual benefit. Besides, you’re a fine one to talk about paying taxes. At least I pay some.”

“I would pay taxes, but I’m still waiting for my T-4s to arrive.”

The conversation ended in laughter. Jack looked at Laura to see what she was thinking. Her smile said it all.

“We better not lose them,” said Jack.

“With the army that Connie has out?” replied Laura. “They better not. Too bad we can’t tell her what we heard.”

“Let her worry. I told her this case would take time.”

“As long as it’s not us doing time,” shot back Laura, with a nod toward the recorder in Jack’s hand.

The surveillance team followed Rodine and Venice to an older home in Burnaby. As the surveillance team waited, Connie got in the back seat of Jack and Laura’s car.

“Figure he might have a lab in there?” asked Connie.

“Time will tell,” replied Jack.

Over the next couple of hours, numerous people showed up and most were carrying in cases of beer and liquor.

“Celebrating his court case,” said Jack. “He won’t have a lab in there.”

“Christ, we need something,” said Connie. “You think we’d make a green light sooner or later. I’m getting sick of all these dead ends. What if he’s not even in the meth business anymore? Then what the hell —”

“Trust me,” said Jack. “He’s still in business.”

“You sound very confident,” said Connie, leaning forward in an attempt to see Jack’s face.

“Guys like this don’t quit,” he replied.

“Oh,” she said and sat back in the seat.

Over the next couple of hours a few more people arrived, but from the licence plates gathered, most appeared to be petty criminals or small-time drug traffickers.

At midnight Connie looked at her watch and said, “Guess there is no sense wasting manpower. I think I should call it off. With all the booze going in there, I bet he sleeps the day away tomorrow. I’ve still got a court brief I have to study tonight for a trial tomorrow morning. Maybe we can sit on Rodine again tomorrow night or the next day.”

“Uh … I’ve known some of these guys to be early risers,” said Jack.

“Really?” replied Connie. “Most of the criminals I know sleep until at least noon. What are you trying to pull?” she asked suspiciously. “Hoping to gaff a bunch of overtime?”

“No, I’m serious,” replied Jack. “With labs, sometimes certain chemicals have to be added at specific times. I think we should stay on him for at least forty-eight hours straight.”

“You shitting me?”

“Jack is right,” said Laura. Considering the time he spent in court, if he has a lab … and I’m sure he does, he’ll have to check it soon.”

“Put it this way,” said Jack. “Laura and I are going to sit on him all night, but it is your case. If he goes mobile and we lose him, it will be your fault.”

“Don’t you two ever sleep?” Connie asked.

“We take turns sleeping in the car,” replied Laura.

“Okay,” sighed Connie. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll leave two guys behind tonight and will put a full team back on at eight tomorrow morning. That good enough for you?”

“Guess it will have to be,” replied Jack reluctantly.

Connie got out of the car and closed the door, but paused before turning and knocking on Jack’s window. When he opened the window she leaned in to look at their faces. “Anything you’re not telling me?” she asked.

“Nope,” they both replied in unison.

“Yeah … that’s what I thought,” she said. “I’ll leave you four people instead of two.”

“Hope she never switches over to Internal,” said Jack, as they watched Connie walk away.

* * *

At six o’clock in the morning Jack reached into the back seat and shook Laura awake and said, “He’s out to the car. We’re about to be mobile,” he added, while reaching for the police radio to alert the others.

For the next half-hour, Rodine drove in and out of parking lots while constantly monitoring his rear-view mirror. Eventually he headed off and at seven o’clock he drove down an alley behind an older house in Burnaby and pulled up to an attached garage.

“Has to be the lab,” said Laura.

“Can’t see him driving in circles for any other reason,” replied Jack, while wiping the sleep from his eyes.

The police radio squawked again to announce that Connie had arrived at work. “I hear you guys are mobile. What’s going on?”

“He did a bunch of heat checks and we followed him to a dumpy old house in Burnaby. Close to the PW Brewery.”

“Think it’s a lab?”

“Good chance.”

“Did he switch vehicles like Varrick did?”

“No, but the car he’s driving isn’t registered to him.”

“I need grounds for a warrant. Can you smell anything indicating chemicals?”

“All I smell is the brewery.”

“My court case isn’t until ten. I’m on my way.”

Rodine was in the house half an hour before driving away. The surveillance team followed him to a six-level apartment building in White Rock and watched him park out front.

“Anybody able to go on foot and walk in with him?” radioed Connie.

Jack and Laura drove past the front of the building and Jack quickly grabbed the radio. “Cancel that,” he ordered. “There’s someone standing six in the lobby. Two more punks are walking out front. Everyone stay back.”

“What is this place?” asked Laura. “The Canadian Mint doesn’t have this much security.”

Jack didn’t respond as he was busy copying licence plates into his recorder as they drove down the block.

Seconds later, Rodine returned to his car, only to drive into the apartment’s underground parking garage. Five minutes later he drove back out onto the street and was followed to downtown Vancouver. After stopping at Basil Westmount’s office, he returned home.

Connie remained in Vancouver for her court case. It was later adjourned so she returned to where the surveillance team was parked at Rodine’s house. Connie got in the back seat of Jack and Laura’s car as Jack was calling in the licence plates he’d recorded from the apartment building.

Many of the plates were associated to gang members in The Brotherhood. Jack’s next call was to Dan Mylo in the Organized Crime Task Force who said that the apartment building was of particular interest. The apartment manager was a man by the name of Sy Sloan, who was the leader of one of the gangs.

“We think Sy controls the whole building as far as who is allowed to live there,” said Dan. “Sy is out of shape, but he is monstrous in size and looks intimidating. The apartment building is like a fort. He picks and chooses who lives there. You won’t get inside without them knowing. All the straight citizens have been driven out.”

“You have any wire on the occupants?” asked Jack.

“Not at the moment,” replied Dan. “Not enough grounds. If you can help us in that regard it would be much appreciated.”

“I think Rodine is delivering meth to someone in the apartment, but I don’t know who.”

“That’s the problem we’ve been having. We’ve had targets come and go, but once they’re inside that place, who knows what is going on or who they’re meeting,” said Dan.

“We need an informant,” said Jack.

“That we do, my friend, that we do.”

Jack hung up and told Laura and Connie what he had learned.

“Figure Rodine is delivering meth to The Brotherhood?” asked Connie.

“Positive,” replied Jack. “My guess is he got paid for it and then went and paid his lawyer.”

“Think maybe we should bust him next time and see if he’ll talk?” suggested Connie.

“He won’t talk,” replied Jack. “There is no incentive. Not with what he would get in court. Satans Wrath would deal out a far worse punishment. Plus we don’t have grounds to stop and search him. His first call would be to Basil Westmount.”

“Maybe you could make a UC buy from him?”

“This guy is a cook, not the dealer. Besides, even if I did, there is no incentive strong enough for him to talk.”

“Isn’t there something we can do?”

“We should do surveillance on the apartment building,” said Jack. “Figure out who more of the players are. We could get lucky. Maybe Cocktail lives in the building or visits here.”

“If we get lucky … but then what? I need evidence. Bullshit gossip doesn’t stand up. Hang on, I’m calling PPSC to see what my chances are of getting a wire on Rodine.”

Connie spoke for several minutes with a Crown Prosecutor before hanging up. She was quick to the point. “Goddamn it! Goddamn it! God-damn it! He says I don’t have grounds for either a search warrant or a wire …” She drove her fist into the back of the seat and said, “Christ this is bullshit. We don’t even know if his place near the brewery is a lab.”

Jack made eye contact with Laura and stared silently at her as Connie complained. Laura paused for a moment before giving a subtle nod.

“We’re all tired,” said Jack. “Let’s go home early and reintroduce ourselves to our spouses.”

“The day has turned out pretty good,” said Laura. “We’ve discovered his lab and know what apartment building he is delivering it to.”

“We only think we’ve discovered his lab,” replied Connie. “And what good is that if Rodine won’t talk? We don’t even know if he knows Cocktail.”

“As I said,” repeated Jack, “we’re all tired. A few days of surveillance on Sy and his people could turn up something.” He turned and stared at Connie and said, “Trust me, we will come up with something. I’m nauseated from the reports rolling in every day on what meth is doing to people. A lot of innocents are getting hurt.”

“Hope you don’t think I’m blaming you,” said Connie. “I feel so frustrated. Maybe a good night’s sleep would help.”

* * *

It was two o’clock in the morning when Jack took the small leather case out of his jacket pocket. Laura, holding a flashlight, stood quietly as Jack picked the lock. When the door opened, they caught the strong smell of an odour that they knew did not come from the brewery. Seconds later, their sense of smell had been annihilated. It would be several hours before they would be able to smell again.

“Not healthy in here,” whispered Laura.

“I know. A quick peek and we’re gone.”

The first room was a kitchen with an old table and chrome chairs with ripped plastic seat cushions. Down the hall was a bedroom. The door was open and Jack could see a grubby mattress lying on the floor. Opposite the bedroom was another door that was closed. Laura shone her flashlight on the door and Jack saw a picture of a small animal.

“What’s that?” he said.

“It’s a picture of a hamster,” replied Laura. “Gee, it’s really cute.” Her mind came back to the reason they were there and she gestured to the door. “What do you think?”

“The lab room in Gabriel’s basement had something taped to the outside of the door,” said Jack. “About the same size. The room was also booby trapped.”

“You think the hamster is a terrorist?”

“I don’t know what the picture has to do with it. He does have beady eyes.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“He has whiskers.”

Laura snickered and said, “Well, one thing is for certain. You’ve convinced me not to open this door. From what we smelled when we first came in, we know the lab is here.”

“I’d feel better if I could see it,” replied Jack. “Go back and wait. I’ll be done in a second.”

“No! You come, too. I’m not bringing you home to Natasha in a garbage bag.”

Jack chuckled and said, “The booby trap was dismantled at Gabriel’s, but they left behind some eyehole screws above the door. I’m sure you can open the door a little to turn it off, but I want you to go.”

“I’ll stay and hold the light,” she replied.

“I’ll hold it in my mouth. Get out of here.”

“If you think it is safe enough for you, then it is safe enough for me.”

“You’re really stubborn, do you know that?” said Jack in exasperation.

“Must be contagious. Hurry and get it over with.”

“Okay, but at least stand to one side … and there won’t be any hurrying,” replied Jack, as he slowly turned the door knob. They both winced as the door clicked open a crack.

“I’m going to hold the door steady,” said Jack. “Shine the light at the top of the jamb.”

Laura did as instructed and Jack saw a slim metal lever extending up from the far side of the top of the door. He ran his fingers up the piece of metal and detected a strand of wire passing along the far side. He gently pushed on the side of the metal lever until it moved below the height of the wire. After exhaling audibly, he slowly pushed the door open.

The room contained the lab. The wire wound its way through a couple of eyehole screws to a large glass carboy filled with liquid. There were several benches containing glassware and numerous bottles of chemicals. A wooden rack contained numerous cookie sheets with traces of white powder. “Don’t think that was cookies he was making,” commented Laura.

“We’ve seen enough,” said Jack. “Too bad we have to keep this to ourselves.”

* * *

Over the next few days, the surveillance team discovered that Rodine would go to the meth lab during the day, only to return home at night where he and Venice would spend their time watching videos.

It was Thursday afternoon and a week had passed since Rodine had won his court case. As usual, Connie sat slumped in the back seat of Jack and Laura’s car where they were parked down the street from Rodine’s house. Her disposition had become grumpier as the days passed.

Occasional surveillance of The Brotherhood apartment building identified numerous criminals coming and going, including three prospects for Satans Wrath. Nobody had any name or occupation that would warrant the nickname of Cocktail. Jack believed that Rodine was the key and surveillance concentrated on him.

“He’s not meeting anyone,” said Connie. “At least no asshole by the name of Cocktail that we know of. Maybe we should follow the prospects from Satans Wrath.”

“Those guys are too well trained to lead us to Cocktail,” replied Jack. “Relax, I’ve got a plan to get an informant. Hopefully soon.”

“What? This is the first I’ve heard of it,” said Connie. “Who? How —”

“Who is on a need to know basis. Sorry, at the moment you don’t need to know. It would be better in court if you never knew.”

“I suspect there are a lot things where it would be better if I didn’t know about you two,” said Connie. “Dare I ask how you’re going to do it?”

Jack remained silent.

“Okay,” said Connie. “Never mind … just do it.”

After Connie left, Jack looked at Laura and said, “You free for a date with me tonight?”

“Sure. You buying dinner?”

“Only if you like baking soda.”

“You’ve piqued my curiosity. Who is this new informant?”

“Rodine … if he lives.”