he said, “After I had the crap beat out of me, Damien told me that he thinks he knows who the rat is in their club.”
Whiskey Jake and Sparks sat in the back of a van parked a block from Jack’s apartment. Sparks turned the volume up on the speaker and said, “Here it is!”
They listened as Danny’s voice came over the speaker.
“Damien knows who our friend is?” he said.
“I’m not so sure,” said Jack. “If he really knew who it was, why let me know?”
“I don’t know, but maybe we should warn him.”
Sparks swore and said, “Come on, pigs! Give us a name!”
Whiskey Jake put his finger to his lips and Sparks became silent.
“He doesn’t need warning,” said Jack. “He knows the heat is on.”
“So what do we do now?”
“At least we know that The Suit isn’t with the City narcs,” said Jack.
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that. CC said she would keep this on a need-to-know basis. She couldn’t have told too many people.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing. We shouldn’t forget Department of Justice, either.”
Danny thought for a moment, then said, “There can’t be that many guys who knew. If we get pictures of all the possibilities, maybe Marcie could point him out to us.”
“Possibly. Either way, I figure we’ll find out who this bastard is before the week is over!”
Sparks turned and looked at Whiskey Jake. “Who is this Marcie? Think we should let Damien know?”
“Fuckin’ right!”
chapter thirty-four
Assistant Commissioner Isaac accepted the call from Wigmore, who had heard the news about two members of Satans Wrath being blown up. He sounded more deranged than before when Isaac mentioned that Taggart had submitted a report saying that an informant indicated that it was the result of internal strife within the club.
Wigmore said he had been building a file on Taggart and asked Isaac to look in his desk drawer. He said the documentation would prove that another one of Taggart’s so-called informants, Edward Trimble, had been dead for years.
Isaac felt that Wigmore was psychotic, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any fibres of truth to his allegations. He spoke with Inspector Burg, who was filling in as a temporary replacement for Wigmore. Inspector Burg rifled through the desk and found a folder marked “Project Hotshot” and handed it to Isaac. Edward Trimble had been dead for over two years.
Late that afternoon, Inspector Burg examined the contents of a computer disc that he found in Wigmore’s desk. He called Isaac, who took one glimpse, then called GIS. A search warrant would be obtained immediately.
Early in the afternoon of the next day, Jack called Natasha to make arrangements to pick her up. Liz was holding a surprise dinner party for Marcie for receiving an excellent report card. As he hung up, his cellphone rang.
Sparks, sitting near the apartment in his van, nudged Whiskey Jake and said, “Piggy’s got another call. It’s on his fuckin’ cell so we’ll only get his half of the conversation.”
Louie was quick and to the point. “I’ve got some news. Are you and Danny sitting down?”
“Danny went home to pick up his mail,” replied Jack. “He’ll be back in an hour.”
“You missed an interesting event last night. I just found out myself.”
“I’m so damn sore I just about need a wheelchair to move around in. Mental note: never fight with a guy named Thumper.”
Sparks smiled and gave Whiskey Jake the thumbs-up sign.
“I had planned on coming in tomorrow,” continued Jack. “What’s up?”
“I just talked with Isaac. We may have found the leak!”
“You think you know who The Suit is? Fantastic! Who?”
“Wigmore!”
“What?” Jack felt dumfounded. “Why? Why would he do that?”
“They found something in his desk. He’s a goddamned pervert. Into kiddie porn. They seized a computer out of his apartment last night. It was loaded with the shit. Explains why he wanted your ass so bad.”
“Explains the bomb at the mall. He talked the bikers into doing his dirty work for him!”
“You working on that porn file scared him.”
“Find anything with bestiality?”
“I don’t know yet. They’re still downloading his computer.”
“It makes sense,” said Jack. “He was certainly in a position to know everything.”
“They didn’t find a George Bush mask in his apartment and he doesn’t own a shepherd, but the bikers could be holding that for him.”
“Is he in jail?”
“Not yet. They’re assigning a special prosecutor to review everything. You know the system. It’ll take months.”
“Damn it! What if he skips out? Satans Wrath could send him anywhere in the world!”
“Why would they bother? Child pornography is all we can prove. We’ll be lucky if he gets a hefty fine.”
“I don’t care about proof! As long as there’s enough proof for me!”
Louie didn’t respond. His silence was more powerful.
Jack felt like a fool. Unprofessional. “I was about to pick up Natasha and go to the farm,” he said, changing the subject. “I want a photo of him to show Marcie. See what she says.”
“She didn’t see his face,” Louie said thoughtfully, “but Wigmore has a mole on his neck.”
“Exactly. She was still terrified when she described him to us. Easy to forget stuff. It wouldn’t hurt for her to take a look. Might twig a memory. Even to see if it’s his build or hairstyle.”
“I’ll get you one from Staffing. We should talk about all this. Let’s meet for a quick coffee and I’ll give you a picture.”
“I need to be positive. If she can’t identify the picture, how the hell do we find out?”
“They’re still downloading his computer.”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t expect they’ll find evidence, unless he ordered the mask online. Meet you at Starbucks?”
“Be
