“That’s good to hear.”
“Why?”
“Because if you were using pliers it wouldn’t take that long.”
An hour after talking with Connie, Jack visited The Racquet Club. After a quick tour, he accepted an offer of a free pass used as a promotion to entice people to buy a membership. He was glad to see the customers used padlocks to secure their storage lockers. His ability to pick locks would make that step of his undercover plan easy.
The hardest job would be finding a remote spot and digging a grave that wouldn’t be discovered. For that, he found a construction site where the workers got weekends off.
On Friday afternoon, Jack called Sammy in Drug Section. “Hey, are you still hiding that ugly face of yours with a beard?” asked Jack.
“I only have a goatee now. What’s up, Jack?”
“A goatee is good. Need a small favour for a quick UC.”
“Yeah? How quick? Last time I agreed to do something for you, I ended up sitting in a bar so you could burn me to get the bad guys to trust you.”
“That worked well.”
“For you, yeah. Me, I could have been shot.”
“Never took you for a whiner.”
“A whiner? Up yours!” Sammy chuckled. “What do you need?”
“I need you to stand on a sidewalk and phone me when some guy arrives and asks for me. I’ll know when he’s arriving so you’ll only have to be there for a few minutes.”
“Sounds easy enough. Beats being in a doper bar like last time. When do you want to do it?”
“Tomorrow around supper time.”
“Tomorrow’s Saturday … yeah, okay. Where at?”
“Do you know where the west-side chapter clubhouse for Satans Wrath is?”
“Oh, fuck …”
chapter fourteen
On Saturday morning, Jack awoke to the sound of Natasha singing to Mikey. She was lying on her back in bed beside him, but holding the baby up above her chest with her hands around his waist. Her voice was soft and sweet.
“Michael Edward Taggart … you’re our little boy. Michael Edward Taggart, you’re our pride and joy. Michael Edward Taggart, you’re such a little clown. Michael Edward Taggart, you’re fun to have around!” With this last comment she stretched her arms high and pretended to let Mikey drop.
Mikey’s bright eyes, coupled with his smile and bubbly giggle, begged for more.
Jack smiled to himself as he lay there. Life can be so good.
It was a special moment locked in time. One that would later come back to haunt Jack at the most dire moment of his life.
“He’s a very happy kid,” said Jack, as Natasha lay Mikey on her chest.
“Do you think so?” asked Natasha, turning to stare at Jack.
“Are you kidding? Look at him. He’s always giggling. Look at his eyes. So full of life.”
“I am looking. I think he just fell asleep.”
Natasha made a pretext of looking at Mikey and said, “Probably because he’s bored.”
“Bored? He’s not even seven months old.”
Natasha smiled at Jack and said, “He needs a baby sister or baby brother to play with.”
“It has only been a couple of weeks since we started trying. All in good time.”
“Boy, are you slow this morning. Don’t you know when I’m giving you a nudge?” she said, before kissing Jack on the side of his neck.
Jack scrambled out of bed, gently picked up Mikey and raced down the hall to place him in his crib.
“I take it that was enough of a nudge,” Natasha said, laughing as Jack ran back into their bedroom.
“You want to see a nudge? I’ll show you a nudge,” he replied, leaping back into bed.
Later that afternoon Natasha saw a hard look come over Jack’s face moments before he slipped on a black Harley Davidson T-shirt and left for work. She knew he was psychologically preparing himself for a role of some sort, but she didn’t like it. He didn’t look like the man she married and it scared her.
It was five o’clock when Slater walked out of The Racquet Club and got in his car. Ten minutes later, he received a call on his cellphone.
“Yeah, is this Clive Slater?” asked Jack.
“Who wants to know?” replied Slater.
“The guy who found his wallet.”
“What? … Jesus! I didn’t even know it was missing.”
“I found it in the dressing room at The Racquet Club. They gave me your number. Looks like you got about eight hundred bucks in it, along with your credit cards.”
“I’m not far away. I’ll be right there.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize you had just left. I’m already in my car and am late for a meeting. Guess I could have left it at the club, but I’m not the trusting type so they gave me your number. My name’s Jack. I’ll give ya the address of where I’ll be if ya want to slide by and pick it up. Otherwise, maybe in a couple of days we can get together.”
“No, no. God, no. I need it. I’ll come right away. Thanks a million.”
Forty minutes later, Slater’s sense of relief at being able to retrieve his wallet was replaced by a feeling of dread as he arrived at the address he was given. A high chain-link fence protected a yard full of Harley Davidsons. Keep Out signs, security cameras, coupled with a well-known logo and an emblazoned sign reading SATANS WRATH told him he was in dangerous territory.
Slater slowed his car to a crawl as he drove by. A menacing-looking man with a goatee was strolling toward him up the sidewalk, but stopped when he saw Slater and stood with his arms folded across his chest glaring at him. Slater lowered his window and said, “Excuse me, uh, sir. Do you know if there is a guy by the name of Jack around?”
“Yeah,” replied Sammy. “He said someone was coming by. Hang on. I’ll put a call in.”
Slater stopped his car on the street and listened as Sammy used his cellphone.
“This is the guard at the north side,” said Sammy. “Tell Jack there is some guy here to see him.” Sammy paused a moment and said, “Yeah, I’ll tell him,” he added, before hanging up. Sammy looked at Slater. “Go down the block, take your first left and find a place to park and wait in your car. He’ll be out in
