Above Ground. Don Easton

      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.”

      chapter eight

      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