Читать книгу Birds of a Feather - Don Easton - Страница 7

It was late Friday afternoon when Jack arrived home and called the RCMP Telecommunications Centre to check Earl Porter’s name on the Canadian Police Information Centre’s computer. The CPIC query did not show any criminal record, but a notation did come back to say he was of interest to the Vancouver RCMP Drug Section.

Jack’s next call was to Sammy in Drug Section.

“Porter, yeah, he used to be of interest to us,” replied Sammy. “Not now, somebody must have forgotten to remove him from CPIC.”

“What’s the scoop?” asked Jack.

“Two years ago, Porter came up as a close associate of a guy who was our main target in an undercover operation. A fellow named Clive Slater.”

“What’s the story on Slater?”

“He’s a real pompous ass who likes to throw his money around in the night-club circuit. He drives a red Ferrari 430 F1 Spider and tries to act like he is a mafia don or something. We had a snitch who told us Porter and Slater were involved in coke in a big way.”

“Do you still have the snitch?”

“No. Last I heard the snitch is in jail in Ontario,” said Sammy. “He wasn’t deemed to be all that reliable, anyway. He was one of those types of guys who just suspects something, but then relays it as fact.”

“How did your investigation end up?” asked Jack.

“Well, at the time we did some checking and it turned out Porter and Slater had business connections in Ciudad Juarez, Mexico. Porter owned a company that made tourist trinkets and Slater was involved in a fruit company. We had our liaison officer out of Mexico City make some inquiries for us. According to the Mexican police, the companies are legit, but the LO said the police are so corrupt down there that you have to take everything they tell you with a grain of salt.”

“Sounds like the companies might be used for laundering money,” said Jack.

“Could be, but neither of them have ever been caught with any coke.”

“Maybe they’re the financiers?”

“There’s always that possibility,” Sammy agreed. “We tried to snare them both in a UC operation, but Slater was too smart. Our undercover operator spent three months befriending him. Then he was with Slater in a nightclub one night and Slater, being the asshole he is, laughed and said he appreciated the RCMP buying him all these drinks.”

“Who was the operator?”

“Ken Hales, out of Calgary.”

“I’ve worked with him. He’s a hell of a good operator,” Jack commented.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Maybe the Mexicans tipped Slater off after the LO made inquiries.”

“Possibly.”

“No problem then if I take a look at Porter and perhaps Slater?” asked Jack.

“Fill your boots,” replied Sammy. “Neither are on our target list. Like I said, someone forgot to remove them from CPIC. We’ve had to reprioritize. Known gang members who are killing each other off are our number-one concern.”

Adams crossed the Bridge of the Americas and was waved through customs. He had not bothered to go to the office and get a car, instead opting to use his own car. Time was of the essence. He had little hope that his office, currently going through channels with the American ambassador in Mexico City, would have any luck in getting Patton back alive.

The four FBI agents had agreed to stay in Juarez to assist … providing assistance was still possible. That hope lay in the person Adams was going to meet.

Adams cursed and glanced at his watch. The minutes were ticking past and he accelerated along cluttered narrow streets to get to one particular back alley.