“Think we’ve got action!” said Laura. “The maid stopped her cart outside the door.”
“Too bad,” replied Jack. “I was just starting to doze off.”
“She’s kneeling down and looking up ... now she’s standing ... knocking.” Laura passed the binoculars over to Jack.
“Using her pass key,” he said, then lowered the binoculars. “Guess you don’t need binos to see that!”
The maid ran across the parking lot to the office. Jack and Laura looked at each other and then slumped low in their seats.
Vicki and Katie were gagged, blindfolded, and bound, with their wrists taped together behind their backs. Vicki guessed that her Hummer had been driving for half an hour before it stopped. Then she heard the sound of a large overhead door close.
Moments later they were both hauled out and the tape was ripped from their eyes. Vicki saw that they were in a small warehouse. The strong smell of coffee was in the air and burlap sacks were piled on various pallets.
Two men held Vicki and Katie by the arms and roughly jerked them along to a pallet that contained only a few bags. Then they were shoved and fell beside each other onto the pallet. The two men stood over them, watching as Katie cried and choked through her gag.
Then two more men approached. One was carrying bolt cutters. The other rolled Vicki over onto her stomach and then grabbed her hands. She tried to scream but the gag prevented any real noise as she twisted and rolled her body. She managed to roll over, digging her fingers into the sack for support and kicking upwards with her feet.
The men stood up, then looked at each other and laughed. They spoke to each other in Spanish.
Vicki did not know these men. Perhaps it was better that she didn’t.
They were hand-picked from an army of desperate, violent men who wanted a share of the narco dollars. Carlos did not pick them because of their limited knowledge of English or even their willingness to do anything he asked. He picked them because they were likely insane. They inspired terror and would do anything asked of them. It was simply human nature to pick people who are like you — albeit not as intelligent.
Seconds later, both men were on her again. She fought and kicked hard. Katie got to her feet and kicked one of the men. He punched her hard in the mouth and she fell to the ground and didn’t move.
Vicki quit kicking. Tears blocked her vision and she allowed herself to be rolled back over onto her stomach. She was conscious of the taste of coffee beans on her lips from where a sack had been torn. She felt a man’s grip on her fingers and the cool metal of the bolt cutters as the pinchers tightened on her finger. For a brief instant, her brain refused to accept that the sound she heard, like celery being crunched, had come from her own body. For a moment it was as if her brain had detached itself from her body. She heard her own muffled cry as if it came from someone else, but then she felt incredible pain and knew the voice was hers. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying in vain to block it out.
chapter twenty-four
Connie Crane and her partner arrived at the motel and a uniformed officer waved to them from the doorway of one of the units.
“Call came in about forty minutes ago,” he said as they approached.
Connie glanced at her watch and replied, “About nine-thirty, then?”
He nodded and stepped aside to allow them to enter.
Connie did a brief examination of the room while her partner fished wallets from each of the two victims. One had a pistol in his belt, and Connie saw a Mac-10 pistol lying on the bed in the adjoining room.
The radio response to their inquiries came back within seconds. Both victims were listed as probation-ary member of Satans Wrath out of Montreal.
“Gee, that’s a big surprise,” said Connie sarcastically.
“What the hell are they doing out here?” her partner asked.
“Dope deal gone bad,” replied Connie.
“You find dope?”
“No, but this door is open to the adjoining room. There’s a blood smear in the bathroom and it looks like a third guy escaped out the back window. These two yo-yos were killed instantly so it wasn’t them moving around.”
“Could be dope. They have lots of firepower.”
Connie nodded and said, “That’s their number one money-maker. Three guys — bikers — in adjoining rooms with only a double bed in each. They weren’t here to sleep. Probably using the other room as either security or to stash the money or the dope. Being from Quebec even fits. Last year Intelligence discovered that assholes from Satans Wrath in Quebec were running speed out here.”
“Who would have the balls to waste a couple of these guys?”
Connie glanced around the room, then replied, “No sign of forced entry. I bet whoever did this was known to them. They didn’t even have their guns out. Alert the hospitals to be on the lookout for anyone coming in with potential GSWs. Let’s see if we can find who did this before the bikers do.”
Fifteen minutes later Jack walked into the motel room. “Hi, CC. Want some help?” he said.
Connie turned around in surprise. Jack was already in the room and she saw Laura looking in from the doorway. “Careful! We’re still waiting for Forensics to arrive.”
“Hi, Connie,” said Laura. “There’s a blood smear on the sidewalk.”
“We know.” Connie looked at Jack and asked, “How the hell did you hear about this and get here so fast? It’s Saturday morning of a long weekend,” she added.
“A source I’ve known for a long time told me that three Satans Wrath members from Montreal were in town to do a major dope deal this weekend. An executive of the club known as The Toad and two strikers. Apparently they were to hand off three or four million bucks to buy dope.”
“Three or four million!” said Connie’s partner. “I guess that could give someone the balls to do this!”
“Recently I turned another informant — a hooker — who knows The Toad. We were meeting her when we heard your radio transmission about the two strikers. She has been servicing The Toad since he arrived. She said that back on the second of May, she was with The Toad and saw him meet some dark-skinned guy on Robson Street. She says the dark-skinned guy then walked across the street to a park and met with Lawrence Leitch. He’s a lawyer that Satans Wrath uses.”
“I know about that!” said Connie. “We were working with...” She paused and looked at Jack and said, “Wait a minute, that was almost three weeks ago! You telling me that some hooker can remember an exact date that long ago?”
Laura leaned against the doorway and watched. This ought to be good.
“Definitely,” replied Jack, his face expressionless as he stared at CC. “She said she remembered it because of something she had said to The Toad the day before and he joked to her about it as they drove past the park.”
“Which was?” demanded CC.
“She had said, ‘Hooray, hooray, it’s the first of May — outdoor screwing starts today!’”
Laura snickered to herself, more at the sincere look on Jack’s face than his words.
“Oh,” replied CC, eyeing Jack warily. “I was there that day with” — she glanced at Laura — “your husband. That was over the Molen incident. This Toad is tied in with the guy we call the Brit? The same son of a bitch who attacked the O’Reillys and murdered Holly’s husband and shot their baby?”
“Has to be,” said Jack. “The Toad told my informant to wait for him in the car. She said he was acting really kinky and paranoid.