Elvis rejoined the surveillance team just as Molen left the office. They followed him to a liquor store and watched as he bought a bottle of Canadian Club. Then he drove straight home.
At nine-thirty, Elvis received a call on his radio.
“Just got a good look at him through the binos from the back alley. He’s sitting by himself at the kitchen table. Looks like the whiskey is three-quarters gone.”
“Copy,” replied Elvis. “Let’s shut it down. Nothing is going to happen tonight.”
“Going to haul his...” The officer paused, conscious of radio procedure, then continued, “... haul his butt in tomorrow?”
“Ten-four. Be a good time to try. He’ll be tired and hungover.”
chapter nineteen
It was eight o’clock the following morning when Elvis consulted with Jack about his belief that Molen knew the game was up.
“So you want to grab him?” asked Jack. “If he doesn’t roll, it could still heat up my source and we wouldn’t be any further ahead.”
“That’s why I’m talking to you. I won’t do it without your okay.”
“You said he has a problem with the booze?”
Elvis nodded and said, “Sat by himself last night and drank most of a bottle of whiskey. I’d say he was an alcoholic. Divorced years ago and his boss said he doesn’t appear to have any friends.”
“How nervous do you think he is?”
“Very. I don’t think he could handle the pressure of an interrogation. We’ve already got him dead to rights on the first delivery.”
“Then do it. It’s worth the risk if by some chance he knows something about the Brit.”
“Your person can take the heat?”
“With the way Molen is, Satans Wrath wouldn’t expect him to last long. They may think he was drunk and blabbed something.”
“Good enough,” replied Elvis. “I’ll grab him as soon as he comes in.”
Elvis was just walking away when Jack said, “Elvis, if he resists, put one through his skull for me!”
Elvis thought about Jack’s comment as he waited in his office for word of Molen’s arrival. Jack’s response was like most cops’ when it came to one of their own being dirty. He seems genuine, but then again, he is an operator...
Two hours later, Elvis found out why Dick Molen had not arrived at work. A postal worker had become suspicious at the sound of a car running inside a garage with the door closed.
Jack went down to the cafeteria to have a morning coffee and sat with a few acquaintances who had been in the lineup ahead of him. A few glanced around nervously. Soon they all made feeble excuses and departed, leaving Jack sitting alone.
Gee, guys. My wife is out of town. How about inviting me home for Yorkshire pudding? Jack left his coffee unfinished. Can I blame them? The Brit is laughing at all of us.
Jack returned to his desk just as Elvis arrived.
Elvis told him about Molen and then commented, “Carbon monoxide. I’m surprised he didn’t eat his gun.”
“Maybe was too hungover and afraid the noise would kill him,” replied Jack. “Did he leave a note?”
Elvis shook his head.
“You sure it was suicide?”
“Doors were all locked from the inside. No sign of forced entry anywhere. His right hand has bloodied knuckles and splinters of glass. It matches a smashed picture on his wall.”
“Picture of what?”
“Himself. When he graduated from Regina.”
Jack thought for a moment, then said, “Other than saying he hated himself, it would have been nice if he told us what he had passed on.”
“You’ll have to presume it was everything he ever knew,” said Elvis.
“I wonder if Satans Wrath will show up at his funeral to pay their respects.”
Elvis rolled his eyes in response and then said, “It’s too bad, though. Waste of a —”
“Yes!” interrupted Jack. “Too bad we don’t know who the Brit is ... and too bad the dirty narc wasn’t sitting beside Molen.”
Jack met with Lance and told him about the self-destruction of The Mole.
“Thanks for the heads up,” said Lance. “Normally I would be a little concerned, but right now, with Damien getting the boot, I think it will hardly be noticed. Especially with the action that The Toad has on the go.”
“I need to find out who the Brit is,” said Jack. “When Damien finds out that The Mole is dead, ask him if there could be a leak.”
“Me ask him if there is a leak?”
“Question him about who else has contact with Leitch. Ask him if he ever used a go-between.”
“Fuck! I am the leak! I don’t want him to even start thinking about that.”
“Do it. If he’s going to suspect anything, he will regardless of what you say. It’s better if you’re on the inside pointing a finger rather than being quiet and being pointed at.”
Lance took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, then said, “Okay. I’m meeting him tomorrow night, along with The Toad. I think I’ll be told exactly when the ship arrives. If Damien knows about The Mole by then, I’ll do it.”
“Good. I’ll see if I can get it in the news. Meet me here at five-thirty Thursday morning to let me know what is happening.”
“How about four-thirty? If the ship is arriving in the next couple of days I’m liable to be busy.”
“Make it five. The cemetery has a security guard check it three times a night. He does his last drive-through around four-thirty.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’ve seen him. Know his schedule pretty well.”
Lance studied Jack’s face for a moment, then asked, “Is this where your niece and nephew are buried? You come out here at night?”
Jack hesitated and glanced at another part of the cemetery, then replied, “My work is often nocturnal. Other nights I just have trouble sleeping.”
Jack returned to his office. One didn’t have to be overly observant to notice that various colleagues avoided eye contact with him as he made his way to his desk. A couple of standard greetings that Jack gave were answered either with a grunt or a turn of the head and pretense of a cough. It’s like I’m walking around with a chicken under each arm and a sign that says I’ve got the avian flu...
That night Jack called Natasha from his apartment. He was tired and intended to speak for only a few minutes, but it was over an hour before he hung up. He realized how much he missed her. His bed seemed very empty that night.
The following day was no different at his office, except this time he packed a sandwich and ate lunch at his desk. It was better than sitting alone in the cafeteria.
He was more than a little surprised to see Laura enter the room with a smug look on her face and sit in Danny’s chair.
“What gives?” Jack asked. He then said, “You might want to close the door. Being seen with me isn’t too popular these days.”
Laura glanced at the open door and her smile vanished. “Elvis told me. I know about