Читать книгу A Delicate Matter - Don Easton - Страница 9

It was eleven o’clock the following morning when Jack eased the throttle back on the small boat he and Laura had rented. Earlier they’d checked the marina but didn’t see Larry’s boat.

As they slowly cruised past the location where Cockerill had told them the grow-op was located, Laura used binoculars to scan the shoreline. “I see it,” she said. “Red flames painted on the bow.”

“Good. At least it confirms some of what Weenie Wagger told us,” Jack replied. “I’ll feel a little better passing on our intel to Drug Section.”

Laura nodded. The mandate of the Intelligence unit was to gather information to the point that they could point the appropriate investigative unit in the right direction, but not become so involved themselves that it’d necessitate testifying in court. Not being required to testify would help protect their own undercover identities and prevent gruelling questioning by defence lawyers attempting to identify informants.

“We’ll continue on past for about twenty minutes,” Jack said, “then head back to the marina.”

Movement on shore caught Laura’s attention. She toyed with the adjustment on the binoculars. “There’s someone at the front of the boat now. He’s untying a rope.”

Moments later Larry’s boat headed out behind them and went in the opposite direction.

“What do you think?” Laura asked. “If he’s going to the marina, it’ll take him close to two hours for a round trip. Would be nice to verify the crop is there and how big it really is.”

Jack nodded. “If I moor about a ten-minute walk farther down the shore we can walk in. If he comes back sooner we’ll walk along the shoreline like a couple of beachcombers. I doubt it’d heat him up that much.”

Twenty minutes later Jack and Laura made their way along the rocky shoreline until they came to a length of blue nylon rope tied to several concrete blocks. It was where Larry had moored his boat. A small path led away from the shore up a slope into a forest. Jack glanced back at the ocean once more. It was calm, and the sound of an approaching boat would be easily heard. He gave Laura a reassuring nod and they silently made their way up the path.

Soon they came to a No Trespassing sign and Jack smiled. “Pretty good indication we’re on the right path, considering we’re on Crown land.”

A minute later the blast from a shotgun sent pellets ripping into the trees and bushes around them. Instinctively they dived for cover behind trees on each side of the path.

“Son of a bitch!” Jack exclaimed. He glanced at Laura. “You okay?”

“Yes.” Like Jack, she already had her pistol in her hand. “You?”

He gave her a thumbs-up.

“You-you guys get away from here!” yelled a man from a ridge above them.

Jack peered out from behind the tree and glimpsed a man wearing camouflage clothing and holding a shotgun. He spotted Jack and raised the gun again, but Jack ducked and the man held his fire.

“Saw one man,” he whispered to Laura. “He’s too far away to be effective with what he’s using. The spray pattern will be too large.”

“You might think so,” Laura replied, “but it only takes one slug and a few of them already whizzed past me.”

“Go away!” the man hollered again. He sounded like he was about to cry. “You-you guys are stupid. Can’t you read? You can’t come here!”

“Think he’s stoned?” Laura asked.

“More like mentally challenged.” Jack then yelled, “Okay, okay, we’re really sorry! We want to go, but we’re afraid to move, ’cause you’ll shoot us.”

“You shouldn’t be here!” the man wailed.

“Take over and keep him talking,” Jack whispered. “I’ll slide back a bit and circle around behind.”

“Better hurry,” Laura said tersely. “Sounds like we’re about to have company.”

The sound of a boat approaching at high speed told Jack that Laura was right. He slid back down the slope and quickly circled around while Laura did her best to distract the man with conversation.

“I’m really, really sorry!” she shouted. “My boyfriend and I were looking for wild mushrooms.”

“But the sign says No Trespassing. You’re s’posed to turn around!”

“I’m sorry. We thought it was an old sign. We know better now.”

The conversation continued between Laura and the shotgun wielder while Jack circled around. Through the bushes he saw the man standing with his back to him in a small clearing beside a tent. As Jack crept closer, the sound of the boat engine stopped.

“Dwayne!” a male voice yelled from the direction of the boat.

“A man and a lady are here!” Dwayne yelled back. “I told them to leave but they’re still here.”

“Police!” Jack shouted, peering out from behind a cedar tree with his pistol pointed at Dwayne. “Drop your weapon!”

Dwayne spun around, discharging another round as he did. The shot was so far from Jack that he knew it was accidental.

“Drop it!” Jack shouted again. “Don’t make me kill you!”

Dwayne ignored the command and turned toward the shore. “Larry, he’s got a gun! Larry!”

“Put your hands up!” Laura ordered from below.

Jack knew that Larry was no longer a problem. He concentrated on Dwayne. “I said drop it!”

Dwayne turned and nervously raised the shotgun toward Jack. “You go away!”

“I’m a police officer,” Jack declared. “I’m not going away because I’m doing my job. Drop the gun!”

The next yell was from Larry. “Dwayne! Do what they say! It’s okay.”

“But nobody’s s’posed to be here,” Dwayne cried.

“Damn it, Dwayne,” Larry responded. “Drop the fuckin’ shotgun or I’ll kick your arse!”

Dwayne let go of the shotgun like it had given him an electric shock.

Guess I should’ve told him I’d kick his arse.

A few minutes later both Larry and Dwayne were sitting on the ground with their hands handcuffed behind their backs. Jack retrieved a Newfoundland driver’s licence from Larry’s wallet identifying him as Lawrence Beggs. Dwayne didn’t have identification and said he didn’t know how to drive.

Jack handed Larry’s licence and wallet to Laura to check for criminal records and warrants. He then went exploring. When he returned, he motioned for her to step away from their captives so they could talk in private.

“There’s a small stream up there they’ve been using for irrigation,” Jack said. “They have lots of plants hidden in several patches through the bush. Could be a thousand. Also saw a generator, hydroponic equipment, camouflage netting, and a pump to get water from the stream. They’ve got quite the operation going.”

“No criminal records and no warrants,” Laura said. “They’re brothers and you’re right about Dwayne being mentally challenged. The two of them talked a little while you were gone. Larry isn’t what you would call sharp, either. He’s four years older than Dwayne and is being protective. He told me all the plants are his and that Dwayne has nothing to do with it.”

“Nothing to do with it except shooting at us with a shotgun,” Jack said sarcastically.

“So what now?” Laura asked.

“Busting these two would screw up our investigation. Satans Wrath would know that someone talked. They could end up putting the Gypsy Devils on hold for who knows how long.”

“So much for rushing to get a tracker on the semi or doing a major conspiracy.”

“A conspiracy that includes Satans Wrath and the West 12th Street gang. Not these two yahoos.”

“Hey,” Larry hollered. “As I was sayin’, the dope’s all mine. Let Dwayne go and I’ll cop to it.”

“I’ll talk with you in a minute!” Jack said.

“So what should we do?” Laura asked. “After what happened we can’t turn them loose. They’d blab.”

“Not if we turn them into informants.”

“We’re already a couple of levels above these guys. Whatever Larry and Dwayne tell us won’t matter … but you’re right. It should keep them from talking.”

“What’s the big deal?” Larry again. “Let Dwayne go!”

“This might be your lucky day,” Jack said, walking closer to the two captives. “Give me who you’re selling the weed to and we won’t bust you.”

“I’m not sayin’,” Larry replied.

“Yeah, we’re not sayin’,” Dwayne echoed.

“Dwayne, you stay out of this!” Larry reprimanded him. “You don’t know nothin’ and you ain’t got nothin’ to do with nothin’.”

Jack squatted beside Larry. “Are you forgetting that Dwayne tried to kill us?”

“I was shooting above your head,” Dwayne said. “I was only scaring you.”

“Oh, it scared us, all right,” Jack replied. “We were lucky that the spray pattern was so wide that the slugs went past us. But then you fired again when I told you to drop your weapon.”

“That was an accident. The gun went off by itself. Wasn’t me who did it.”

“I told you to never touch it,” Larry scolded him. “Why? Why’d you do it?”

Dwayne hung his head and started blubbering.

Jack cast Larry a sympathetic look. “I feel bad, but trying to kill two police officers over a grow-op … Do you realize that Dwayne may be spending the rest of his life in prison?”

“Larry!” Dwayne cried. “I don’t wanna go to jail! I wanna stay here!”

Larry swallowed as he looked at his weeping brother.

“Talk to us and tell the truth,” Jack said. “We’ll make sure nobody finds out you talked. Your brother’s awfully vulnerable. Think what they’ll do to him in prison.”

Larry’s eyes welled up, then he nodded.

Jack and Laura helped him to his feet and they led him a short distance away to talk. Larry told them that by the next Tuesday he was to have the crop harvested and put in duffle bags. He’d then get a call from someone nicknamed Banjo, who’d ask him how many crabs he caught, which was code for how many duffle bags he had. Banjo would then tell him to bring them to the party, which would be on either Wednesday or Thursday, depending upon which night the delivery was to take place. The night of the delivery he’d take the duffle bags to the marina, then wait for another call before meeting Banjo on a highway in a remote area.

Jack knew from an intelligence report that Frederick Smith, a criminal who went by the alias Banjo, had attended the Labour Day ride. At that time Smith wore the bottom rocker for the Gypsy Devils which identified him as one of their prospects. Larry was telling the truth. “Do you have Banjo’s phone number?” he asked.

“It’s on a piece of paper in my wallet.” Larry looked at Laura. “It’s the one I saw you write down a few minutes ago.”

Laura tapped her notebook to indicate she’d recorded it.

Jack continued. “Have you done this before?”

“Yeah, last year,” Larry admitted.

“Was it Banjo you dealt with before?”

“Yeah. 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.”