On Friday morning a meeting was held with Jack, Laura, Connie, and Dan Mylo from OCTF, in Jack’s office.
Dan outlined the gang wars in the lower mainland. “Province-wide,” he said, “we’ve identified 118 gangs. The Brotherhood was an amalgamation of what used to be a dozen independent gangs. The gangs grew larger, some incorporated with each other, and the amalgamation split when turf issues developed. Basically, The Brotherhood is currently divided into two factions, with an estimated three or four bosses on each side controlling their gangs.”
“No one guy has stepped up to take complete control, then?” asked Connie.
“Don’t think it’s that easy,” replied Dan, glancing at Jack. “I think a certain degree of political backing is required.”
Jack nodded in agreement and said, “The potential leaders are being watched and perhaps loosely guided by Satans Wrath. Although the leaders are adults in their twenties and thirties, the bulk of the membership are teenagers who were previously part of the independent youth gangs. They are violent, young, lack common sense, and have a total disregard for human life. They don’t care who might get in the way as is evidenced by all the drive-by shootings.”
“Which is our priority,” said Dan. “We’re spending all our time trying to take the guns off the street and work on the shooters.”
“Where do the shooters rank in the organization?” asked Connie. “I would think they would be revered as top dogs.”
Dan shook his head and said, “Not on the bottom, but not bright enough to ever be in charge. They’re mid-level status. At the moment, we’re too busy trying to keep a handle on them, let alone identify and work on the real leaders. Drug trafficking, prostitution, auto theft … all take a back seat to the indiscriminate shootings that are going on.” He looked at Jack and said, “Out of curiosity, do you think Satans Wrath could be instigating some of these shootings?”
Jack shook his head and said, “Satans Wrath aren’t impressed by indiscriminate shootings. It brings a lot of heat and is bad for business. At the same time, they appreciate the need to control and expand business. In some ways they’re in a catch-22 situation. They know that police resources are limited and that all these shootings will take the heat off of them. At the same time, they are losing money because of the turf wars and its negative effect on business. Until the turf wars are settled, I don’t think Satans Wrath will want to get too involved with who murders who. If history is any indicator, they will sit back and watch. Once the real victors are identified, they will step in and take over completely.”
“Gives the bikers a chance to see who is worth their salt,” concluded Dan.
“Exactly,” replied Jack. “I presume you have most of The Brotherhood listed on CPIC as persons of interest?”
“We do,” replied Dan.
“Could you include that I also be notified of any CPIC hits concerning them?”
“Consider it done,” replied Dan. “Hope you like to read. With the amount of people connected to gangs and their ability to attract police attention, you’ll be getting a lot of hits.”
The meeting adjourned with everyone agreeing to keep each other informed of anything that might benefit one another. Dan Mylo had no idea who Cocktail was and said it wasn’t a name that had come across any wiretaps or through any other sources. He provided a report from several months previous that showed Zack attending a noisy house party, but most of the people with him were teenagers who belonged to several different youth gangs.
After Dan left, Connie turned to Jack and said, “Any suggestions? It’s obvious that OCTF have their hands full already. I think we’re basically on our own.”
“One of the lab rats busted a year and a half ago has his trial in three weeks,” said Laura. “A fellow by the name of Kent Rodine. I talked to the narcs and they think the evidence is solid. Rodine was found inside the lab and his fingerprints are on the glassware. It’s a jury trial so you never know. If he does go free we could follow him to find out where he hangs his hat. See if he meets with Cocktail. If he doesn’t get off, maybe some of his friends will show up to see him off and we could follow them.”
“Three weeks!” said Connie. “On a case where they expect a conviction? I don’t want to rely on something that flimsy.”
Jack looked at Laura and said, “Let’s get more info on these gangs and watch how they deal. It might lead us to some of the labs.”
“I investigate murders, not dope dealers,” said Connie. “How do you go about it?”
“Through surveillance, arrests, informants —”
“I don’t have the time or the manpower for all that,” said Connie. “Even if I did, it would take a long time. Innocent people could be breathing in the fumes from these labs. There must be something we can do. Rodine and his buddies might not even be connected with Cocktail.”
“I don’t want to wait, either,” said Jack. “We need an informant on the inside.”
“Yeah, but how?” asked Connie. “You can’t exactly run an ad in the Vancouver Sun.”
“We need a clearer picture of what the meth situation is about,” replied Jack. “Meth is a massive problem. Did you know that B.C. currently supplies the majority of our planet in meth? Australia, Asia … you name it.”
“Heck of a thing for Canada to be known around the world for,” muttered Connie.
“We can thank our provincial judiciary for their leniency and lack of foresight for that,” replied Laura. “They aren’t known for seeing the big picture, are they, Jack?” She gave a wry smile at employing a phrase often used by Jack.
Jack shook his head and said, “We’re globally famous for both peacekeeping and supplying the world with methamphetamines. Hell of a combination. Men and women giving their lives for peace around the world while fellow Canadians destroy lives.”
“I don’t want to think about it,” said Connie. “Too depressing.”
“We do need to see the big picture,” said Jack, glancing at Laura. “We have to find out everything we can. I’ll check with Drug Section, VPD, and Toxicology to get info on anything to do with meth. This is the Easter long weekend. By Tuesday morning we should have enough reports to give us an idea of what is going on. Then we will target someone specifically. Maybe do a quick UC, buy some drugs and see if we can turn an informant. If we find one biker lab, surveillance may lead to more. Eventually we’ll find Cocktail.”
“Yeah … unless the bikers look at him as a loose end,” said Connie.
“If they did, VPD would have found his body in the alley alongside Varrick and Zack.”
“Too bad they didn’t,” replied Connie. “It would save us all a lot of time.”
“Starting to think like me?” said Jack with a smile.
“I hope not,” replied Connie, frowning.
“Even if he was dead, Satans Wrath would still have others running the labs,” said Laura.
The dismal tone of her voice brought a moment of silence as the investigators thought about the situation. The meeting came to an end with Connie agreeing to see what they could learn over the next few days.
On Friday night Jack and Natasha sat on the balcony of their condo overlooking the city lights while sipping on a glass of Glayva. Jack snuggled closer to Natasha on the love seat while swilling a taste of the Scotch-based liqueur around in his mouth. My life is great, he thought.
He glanced at his watch. It was nine o’clock. It was a moment in time that he would remember.
Ai-li Cheung walked over to lock the front door of their corner grocery store. Her husband, Frank, had already plodded upstairs to the second storey that was their home for the last thirty-seven years. The sound of the toilet flushing announced where he was.
Ai-li, at sixty-four years of age, was two months younger than her husband. They both planned to retire next year. Up until a few months ago, they always kept the store open until midnight, but the neighbourhood was not what it once was.
Port Coquitlam, less than an hour drive from Vancouver, was no longer a quiet neighbourhood where people knew each other. Shoplifters had become bolder. Empty beer and liquor bottles were often smashed in their small parking lot. Frank often threatened to call the police, but in reality, he was afraid that if he did, the store windows would be smashed in retaliation.
Times had changed from when they used to give free candy to neighbourhood children or run small grocery orders to some of the elderly who lived nearby. The elderly had moved on. Ai-li understood. She did not mind that they closed three hours earlier now. She was looking forward to the day they would close for the last time.
Ai-li was reaching for the door when it was yanked open in front of her. A tall, skinny man with droopy eyes stepped in, waving a syringe containing a bloodly liquid in her face.
“The money,” the addict said. He did not yell, but there was the sound of determination in his voice. “Or I’ll stick ya with this … and believe me, AIDS ain’t somethin’ ya want to have.”
Ai-li nodded her willingness to comply. She was too afraid to talk as she hurried to open the till. The addict followed, but remained on the opposite side of the counter.
“The money,” he repeated. “Hurry up.” He stared intently at Ai-li’s face as his body rocked back and forth.
Ai-li quickly took the money from the till and put it in a bag and pushed it toward him.
He remained rocking back and forth, staring at her.
“That’s all of it,” she whimpered.
He stared back at her in a stupor before his face contorted in rage. Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and plunged the needle into her arm, injecting the bloody liquid. “I told you to hurry!” he yelled, before letting go and stepping back, still holding the syringe.
Ai-li stood paralyzed in shock as the addict stepped back and waved the empty syringe in the air. The rage left his face and he said, “The money … or I’ll stick ya with this. AIDS ain’t somethin’ ya want …” He stared at the empty syringe and blinked his eyes in confusion.
Ai-li’s mouth hung open as she looked at her arm. “I did!” she cried, gesturing to the plastic bag.