“My name is Damien, Mrs. Taggart,” he said, handing her the cooler.
Natasha set the cooler on the park bench and looked inside. She examined the bag containing the finger quickly and then said, “Good, it’s not frozen. You did the right thing. Any amputated digit should be quickly cooled, but not frozen or placed directly in any solution. I’ll take it to my clinic. It should be wrapped in a saline-soaked swab, then sealed in a plastic bag and placed on ice.”
She glanced at Damien and saw the anguish on his face. “There have been recorded cases where digits have been successfully reattached up to twenty-four hours later if the amputated part was quickly cooled.”
Natasha knew by the looks on their faces that this did not appear likely. “Barring that, a prosthesis could be made from an impression cast of this finger, making an exact match...”
Damien stared down at his feet.
“I’ll get going now,” she said, then looked at Jack and asked, “See you at home after? It’s almost four o’clock. I’ll make dinner.”
“Wish you would reconsider. The Brit is —”
“And if you never catch him, do we spend the rest of our lives hiding? As I said, I’ll see you back at our apartment.”
Jack argued with Natasha a little more, but it was to no avail. Neither paid attention to Damien, who opened the cooler one more time.
Jack knew he had lost the argument and handed the cooler to Natasha. Both men watched as she returned to her car.
“She’s pretty headstrong,” said Damien, watching as Natasha placed the cooler in her car.
“Yes.”
“Why not stash her at your sister’s place out on that farm? At least until we get this Brit. Believe me, I’ll find out who he is.”
“She was at the farm. Now she wants to get back to work.”
“How come you don’t have cops protecting her?”
“She’s a doctor. She sees walk-in patients alone. If she was protected, that couldn’t be done. With our people, it would have to be all or nothing. Plus everyone in our office has been threatened. There’s no way everyone could be protected. If I complain about it, they just transfer us up to Baffin Island or someplace. We’d rather take our chances here.”
Damien paused, then nodded his head and said, “Okay. I see the problem. You guys play by the rules too much. I’ll have a couple of the boys watch over her. Once word goes out that she’s protected by the patch, nobody will try anything.”
Jack couldn’t help but chuckle at the prospect. “Hell no! All I need is for the brass to hear...” His thoughts were interrupted when he spotted a familiar car pull out into the traffic behind Natasha. He looked at Damien and said, “We’ve got heat.”
Jack noted that Damien held the urge to look. He was a professional. “You sure?” he asked, looking directly at Jack.
“I’m sure. Anti-Corruption. Someone must have spotted us together and called them. With Bishop’s body being found and now me meeting with you ... this isn’t good.”
Damien swore under his breath, then said, “I wasn’t thinking too clearly today when I drove to meet you. Bet it’s my fault.”
“Too late to worry about that now.”
Damien stared at Jack for a moment and then said, “Anti-Corruption?”
“Think of it as the heavies in Internal Affairs.”
Damien raised his eyebrows and said, “Bishop ... can they connect you?”
“Natasha talked to a Mexican cop just two blocks from where Bishop lived. I didn’t know until later. Now being seen here with you ... I’m going to be taken down!”
chapter twenty-seven
For Hinds, the minutes ticked by while urgent calls were exchanged between Isaac and the bosses at I-HIT, Anti-Corruption, and CFSEU.
Isaac then made a decision and called Staff Sergeant Legg back.
“This may be a long weekend here, but it’s not in Mexico!” said Isaac. “I want a response from Mexico no later than Tuesday. Tell the LO to do it in person! A dinky little village like that, Mexican time or not, it shouldn’t take long to find out. Tell the LO if I don’t have his report on my desk Tuesday morning, he’ll be protecting our sovereignty in the Arctic!”
“And in the meantime?” asked Legg.
“Tell CFSEU or whoever is watching Taggart they can do a loose surveillance today but then back off. I don’t want Taggart heated up until we hear back,” replied Isaac.
Surveillance teams split up into three groups. One watched Natasha carry the cooler into her clinic and then depart a short time later with the cooler and return to her apartment.
Damien, followed by a second team, went straight home.
Hinds elected to follow Jack and noted that when he returned to his car, he immediately used his cellphone.
Jack called the home number of his colleague who worked with the DEA in San Diego.
“Hello?” said a feminine voice.
“Sally! It’s Jack Taggart calling from Canada. Is Jim-Bo around?”
“Sorry, Jack. You got another ship for him?”
“No. Something else.”
“He’s out of the country. I expect him home Tuesday or Wednesday. Can it wait?”
“I suppose. I was just looking for some background info on someone. Have him call me when he gets in. He’s got my cell.”
Jack casually glanced in his mirrors before pulling out into traffic. He did not see anyone. Ten minutes of driving passed before his rear-view mirror reflected a car that had passed him earlier. These guys are pretty good...
The surveillance team followed Jack to the downtown core of Vancouver.
They soon found themselves driving along East Hastings, where Jack entered a parkade. Moments later, he was spotted entering the Black Water Hotel.
“Inside coverage,” ordered Hinds. “Who’s available that our target doesn’t know?”
Hinds found a volunteer and soon he had a whispered report from inside the bar.
“Target sitting by himself. Ordered a beer.”
A half-hour ticked by before Hinds received an update. “He’s just been joined by a woman. Looks like a hooker. He’s buying her a drink.”
“Are you close enough to hear?” asked Hinds.
“Negative. I’m getting enough heat as it is. Whatever they’re talking about, they don’t look happy.”
A short while later the volunteer reported, “Target getting up. Think he’s leaving. He tried to give the hooker a twenty. She shook her head and gave it back. Personally I think twenty was too much. She’s ugly. Okay, Target is heading for the front exit. I’ve lost the eye. He’s yours.”
Hinds saw Jack come out of the bar and the surveillance team was soon mobile again.
Jack arrived home at suppertime. His BlackBerry buzzed as he walked into their apartment. It was a message from Lance: Damien’s wife and daughter kidnapped by the Colombians over the rip. SW having a sale to raise money! No time to meet. Tomorrow?
Jack was too tired to respond to the message