his jaw clench, and replied, “We are meeting a source.” There was a noticeable edge to his voice.
“Really? What source?” Quaile’s tone now matched Jack’s.
Damn it, why antagonize a snake? Jack thought. I’ll only be bitten. Jack’s voice returned to normal and he replied, “Fred Farkle. He’s a dope dealer.”
“Oh,” replied Quaile. He stared at his own hand for a moment while drumming his fingers on his desk. Reaching a decision, he abruptly looked up and said, “Okay, but you’re not claiming overtime for this. You should have rescheduled to a more appropriate time.”
“We won’t claim overtime.”
Quaile nodded and returned to reading the policy manual.
Upon entering the parking garage Laura snickered and said, “Fred Farkle? Couldn’t you come up with a better name than that?”
“If Quaile was smarter, I would have,” replied Jack, opening the car trunk and passing Laura her bag of clothes.
“And this is another thing,” replied Laura. “Having to change clothes so we don’t look like two J. Edgar Hoover FBI agents—doesn’t he appreciate the type of work we do?”
“Apparently not. Just remember to change back when we return.”
“What the hell are you up to?” said Jack, while throwing the box of shoes down on the path at Damien’s feet.
“What?” replied Damien, looking first at the shoes sprawled out of the box before gazing at Laura. “Wrong size?”
“This is bullshit,” said Jack. “You know better. What’s going on?”
Damien glanced around the park, nodded and said, “Let’s keep moving.”
They left the discarded shoes on the ground and strolled down a path together. “Sorry,” said Damien. “I got inebriated the other night and decided it would be funny. That’s all there is to it.”
“That’s all there is to it?” said Jack heatedly. “Making it look like Laura could be getting a bribe—speaking of which, did you know her husband works in Internal Affairs?”
“Internal? I heard he was in the Anti-Corruption Unit,” said Damien, before quickly adding, “Oh, I guess it’s the same thing. Besides, he wasn’t home at the time.”
Laura felt her spine tingle. Damien knows a lot about us ... too much!
As if reading her mind, Damien looked at her and said, “Don’t worry. Just routine survival stuff. You know, keep your friends close, your enemies ...”
“So, you’re telling us you did it because you were pissed the other night?” said Jack.
Damien studied Jack’s face momentarily before answering, “No, I said I was inebriated. There you go again. Typical cop, thinking you have to lard on the tough talk.”
“So inebriated,” said Jack, “that you decided to advertise that you were back in the cocaine import business again?” Jack looked at Laura and added, “What am I saying? Why did I think he was ever out of it?”
Damien shook his head and said, “No, I am not importing cocaine from Ramirez. After what we went through with him last year? Give your head a shake!”
“New supplier?” asked Jack.
“It’s not us you should be wasting your time on,” said Damien.
“I’ve never found working on Satans Wrath to be a waste of time,” said Jack.
Damien eyed Jack briefly and said, “Maybe in this new day and age you should set your sights higher. Start thinking outside the box. The world doesn’t end at the Vancouver city limits.”
“What are you saying?” asked Jack.
“I’m just saying that your time could be better spent than hassling a few of my boys who might have crossed the line once in a while.”
“May have crossed the line once in a while?” said Laura, sarcastically.
Jack gave a slight shake of his head to Laura, signalling for her to be quiet. Damien sent the shoes because he wants us to know something ... but what? Jack looked at Damien and said, “Set our sights higher? On who?”
“I don’t know. I’m not a rat, but—just for example—I did hear of a couple of Russians who were asking a lot of questions about how to bypass something through the Port of Vancouver. Maybe you should be looking at them.”
“And what do they intend to smuggle?” asked Jack.
Damien stared intently at Jack for a moment, and said, really don’t know. I’m not having anything to do with them. Neither is anyone in the club.”
Jack sensed a look of fear in Damien’s eyes. What is he afraid of?
“Russian mafia?” asked Laura.
“Probably connected,” shrugged Damien.
Jack watched Damien nervously look around as he spoke.
“You talk to them personally?” asked Jack.
Damien nodded and said, “For some reason they seemed to think that we had a connection at the Port.”
“You do,” said Jack.
Damien flashed an irritated glance at Jack and said, “We met briefly. It was real brief. I did all the talking. I told them we would have nothing to do with them. If you guys, or whoever, were watching—I’m just telling you that we are not involved with anything they might be up to.”
“And you don’t know what they are up to?” asked Jack.
“That’s right! I don’t!”
“Who are they?” asked Jack. “What do they look like?”
“I don’t remember. That’s all I’ve got to say.”
“I thought so,” said Jack. “You are involved with them and are protecting them while trying to cover yourself.”
“I’m not a liar!” said Damien, before clenching his jaw.
“Then quit playing games. You didn’t call us here for nothing. What is it? Something is eating away at you.”
Damien glared at Jack for a moment. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Okay, okay. I know I owe you for what you both did in Colombia last year,” he said, lowering his voice. “So I’ll tell you a little something about them. This is just between us, right?”
“You’ve got my word on that,” replied Jack, glancing at Laura, who nodded her head.
Damien stared at Jack, nodded in return and said, “They’re both about my age.”
“And
