A Delicate Matter. Don Easton

He’s really rich. He arrived in a big black car like a movie star to pick up the dope. Even had a lady driver.”

      “Do you know any of Banjo’s friends?”

      “I met a guy who hangs out with Banjo by the name of Neal. I took him and a couple of his buddies fishin’ once, but that’s all.”

      Jack nodded. He knew from what Cockerill told him that it was one of the Gypsy Devils, a guy called Mouse, who ran the limousine service. Banjo was far from rich. Using a limo was a way to avoid prosecution if they were caught. Police would have a hard time proving that the drugs belonged to the limo driver and not the passenger.

      “It’s only me that takes it to Banjo,” Larry said. “Dwayne ain’t too good at stuff like that. I only got him helpin’ me so I can look after him.”

      “Don’t you have any other relatives to look after him?” Jack asked.

      “None I ever knowed. Me and Dwayne lived in about a dozen foster homes all over Newfoundland when we was growing up, but … well, I guess he was a handful. Ain’t nobody I know would be willing to look after him.” Larry frowned. “It’s kind of a worry for me when I get older. That’s why I was hopin’ to make some money, so he’d be taken care of.”

      “How much money did you make last year?”

      “I got thirty grand, but my operation was only half the size. I reinvested the money to buy good equipment and make it bigger.”

      “I’ll give you my phone number,” Jack said. “I want you to tell me any time you hear from Banjo.”

      “Larry! Am I goin’ to jail?” Dwayne cried from where he sat.

      “Nah, everything’s okay!” Larry shouted back. “We ain’t goin’ to jail. It was all a mistake.”

      “Yeah … they shouldn’t have come up here. We had a sign and they shoulda —”

      “Shut up Dwayne! Lard Jesus, you got more lip than a coal bucket! I told you never to touch the gun.”

      “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Can I get up now?”

      “No. Stay where you’re at. I’ll be dere da-rackley.”

      “What did he say?” Laura whispered to Jack.

      “I speak a little Newfie. I think he said he’d be there directly.”

      Larry returned his attention to Jack. “Are you gonna arrest Banjo as soon as I give him the weed?”

      “No. Later I plan to arrest the people Banjo hands it to. He might not ever be charged.”

      “Then they won’t know it was me who opened my yap.” Larry looked relieved.

      “Definitely not. I’ll always protect you as long as you tell me the truth.”

      A minute later the handcuffs were removed from Larry and Dwayne.

      “Are we goin’ to jail?” Dwayne asked.

      “No, I told ya we ain’t and you’re not to ever tell anyone about this,” Larry said.

      “How come?”

      “Because we’re secretly working for the police now.”

      Dwayne looked surprised, then delighted. “You mean we’re deputies?”

      “Yes, and you’re not to tell anyone,” Larry said again. “It’s a secret.”

      “I understand. I’m not stupid. I watch television, you know. I’m not stupid.”

      “Once you deliver the dope to Banjo I’ll consider us even,” Jack said, “on one condition.”

      “What’s that?” Larry asked.

      “That you go straight afterwards. If you don’t, I’ll charge your brother. You got that?”

      It was a moment before Larry answered, “Okay, let’s shake on that.”

      Jack hid his amusement and shook his hand, after which Dwayne stuck out his hand. Jack shook it.

      “One last thing,” Jack said. “We’re taking the shotgun with us.”

      Chapter Six

      Late that afternoon, Jack and Laura met with their boss. Staff Sergeant Rose Wood leaned forward in her chair, listening attentively as Jack outlined his goal and his plan to achieve it. When he was done, Rose nodded thoughtfully. “You want satellite trackers on Mouse’s limo and Bob’s semi?”

      “Along with bugs in both,” Jack stressed. “I’ll get the DEA to take over surveillance of the semi when it crosses the border.”

      “Where you hope to identify the weed for cocaine connection and nail them all in a conspiracy,” Rose said.

      “That’s the plan. It’s a good opportunity to gather evidence from the ground up.”

      “Literally,” added Laura. “From the marijuana grown here to the cocoa plants in South America.”

      “Maybe when the truck is being unloaded and the DEA bust them, they’ll find evidence to support the rumour about Satans Wrath widening its cocaine-distribution network into Europe,” Rose noted.

      “Probably not any direct evidence,” Jack said. “There won’t be any full-patch Satans Wrath going anywhere close to Bob’s truck … either here or in the States. I also doubt that the coke connection would show up in person when the truck arrives in Dallas.”

      “You don’t think catching full-patch Satans Wrath is a possibility?” Rose asked.

      “There’s always hope that the DEA will come up with a lead on the money trail to connect the dots, but so far we’ve never been successful in that regard.”

      “So I’ve noticed,” Rose said. “What do you know about the West 12th Street gang in Dallas?”

      “I called a friend in the DEA. He says the gang is well connected with the Mexican mafia and are affiliated with other gangs in several major U.S. cities.”

      “Mexican mafia,” mused Rose. “Explains the coke connection.”

      “Exactly, but knowing and proving are different things. My idea is to let the semi return without any arrests being made, then see if we can discover how they move the money by working back when everyone gets paid.”

      “Tracking the money trail has never progressed beyond the bottom end before,” Rose said. “What makes you think you’ll succeed this time?”

      Jack made a face. “It probably won’t succeed the first time, but it’s a start. At least we know the money’s not being brought back with whoever delivers the dope. We may have to watch several deliveries take place before we can figure out how the money is distributed.”

      “You’re talking months, perhaps even a year or two.”

      “One way to really hurt Satans Wrath is to take away their money. I think it’s worth the gamble. All we’d risk losing is the chance to arrest a bunch of chumps with some weed. I’ve talked with Sammy Crofton in the Drug Section. He’s a good guy and in charge of a team. He’s on board with the idea. I told him we’d assist his team with getting a wiretap and do a bit more preliminary work, then the operation would basically be in their ball park.”

      “Are the DEA willing to let two-hundred-and-fifty keys of marijuana go?” Rose asked.

      “I’m sure of it,” Jack replied. “They’ll be interested in linking the cocaine connection and looking into the money-laundering aspect, as well.”

      “Not to mention, the truck makes regular runs,” Laura put in. “If things work out, they’ll get the opportunity to bust them another time.”

      “The