“Some boys,” replied Rose. “They also have a reputation for being extremely violent — including dismemberment. Victims have been found minus body parts.”

Laura pursed her lips in a small grin. Dismemberment … like cutting a guy’s testicles off with a jackknife.

“Are you familiar with one of the captains in the West End Gang, a fellow by the name of Happy Jack O’Donnell?” asked Jack.

“I’m not sure,” replied Rose. “I haven’t heard that name for years. Is he the one the press used to call ‘Happy’ because he was never convicted of anything?”

“The press called him that. His name came up a lot during a trial years ago when a police agent testified against the gang. There was never enough evidence to even charge O’Donnell, but it was clear he was one of the bosses. A journalist who tried to follow up on the story had his car blown up in his driveway as a warning.”

“So, what about him? Or the Irish? What’s that got to do with this case?”

“I’ve got a plan to use him and the Irish Mafia to help us,” said Jack.

“You what?” exclaimed Rose, lurching forward and knocking some reports off her desk.

16

Later Monday afternoon, Jack hung up the telephone as Laura entered their office. He waited until she sat at her own desk and said, “Remember our two Russians in May — the ones we tricked into going to Vietnam where they were arrested?”

“They’re not getting out, are they?”

Jack smiled and shook his head. “No. Remember the posh penthouse suite they rented that backs onto Stanley Park? Two bedrooms, mini-bar, plasma television, underground parking —”

“Yeah, yeah. What about it?”

“I spoke with Derek. The ex- policeman in charge of security for the apartment.”

“Uh, huh.”

“It turns out the two Russians paid for the suite one year in advance. The year isn’t up until the fall. Derek agreed to us using it, providing we guarantee the Russians don’t come back. I assured him they would definitely not be back for at least the next eighteen years.”

“How sweet. Our own little love nest.”

“Exactly. We can pick the key up from Derek this afternoon. I’ve also got two friends, Paul and Katie, who own a forty-five-foot powerboat parked down at the Bayshore West Marina. It’s called the Blue Gator. I’ve been in it. It’s one hell of a beautiful boat. Very lavish. They are willing to let us borrow it. Paul also happens to be Irish and has the brogue.”

“Nice friends to lend us that.”

“I met Katie years ago. She used to be a social worker up in Kelowna. Our paths crossed and we have been friends since. Really nice people. I think Katie has seen her share of the bad side of life as a social worker.”

“So we have the penthouse, a yacht … this is sounding better all the time.”

“The things you have to do when you have champagne tastes and a beer budget.”

“So, when do we do this?”

“Tomorrow. Pack a bikini and your winter coat into a suitcase. We’ll be off to the airport.”

On Wednesday night, Jack and Laura strolled down the street and entered Goldie Locks. Hidden in a van across the street, Staff Sergeant Rosemary Wood took several surveillance photographs of them entering the club. Her portfolio of surveillance photos on Jack and Laura had grown considerably since the day before.

It was dusk on Friday night when Goldie arrived in the alley behind his club and parked his Aston Martin. He stepped out of his car as a four-door, tan-coloured, unmarked police car pulled up behind him.

The plainclothes officer gestured for him to approach.

“Good evening, Mister Arthur Goldie,” she said, somewhat contemptuously. “My name is Staff Sergeant Wood. I am with the RCMP Organized Crime Task Force. You and I need to talk.”

“What? What about?” demanded Goldie.

“Hop in the car beside me. We’ll take a little drive and I’ll tell you what it’s about,” replied Rose.

“I’m not going with you without consulting a lawyer,” replied Goldie, taking out his cellphone.

“Why are you acting so paranoid?” asked Rose. “This isn’t about you, particularly. I want to talk to you about two of your customers. I prefer not to be seen by them or have anyone know I talked to you.”

“What customers?”

“Get in. I’ll only drive a couple of blocks away and show you their pictures. These two aren’t who they pretend to be.”

Moments later, Rose drove Goldie a few blocks away and drove into an above-ground parkade.

“So what do you think” asked Jack, turning in his chair to look at Laura. “Figure we can get away with it?”

“Think we can rely on Rose?”

“I think so.”

“Cost is certainly a factor. Like the narcs say, we can’t afford to buy the quantity of dope needed to make the connections.”

“You’re right. But the Irish Mafia can.”

Rose parked the car and turned to Goldie and said, “So, off the top, what can you tell me about Jack and Laura?”

Goldie shrugged and said, “I’m not sure I even know them.”

“Bullshit! Take a look at these,” said Rose, opening her briefcase and handing Goldie a surveillance photo. “Tell me again you don’t know them.”

Goldie glanced at a photo of Jack and Laura sitting in the front of their car. Jack was talking to him out the window of the car. “This was last night,” exclaimed Goldie.

“Tell me again you don’t know them,” said Rose.

“I don’t! I just arrived at my club and they were driving by. The guy asked if we had any free parking for the club. That’s all it was about. Maybe they have been in my club before. The guy likes his martinis … not too many. I’m not saying he drinks too much to drive or anything. Otherwise we wouldn’t serve him.”

“Are these them for sure?” asked Rose, handing Goldie some more photographs.

Goldie looked at the top picture. It showed Jack and Laura bundled up in heavy coats with a glimpse of the Vancouver Airport arrivals area in the background. Their suitcases were piled at the back of a limousine and the driver was getting out.

“These were taken a few months back when they arrived,” said Rose.

Goldie looked at the next picture showing Jack and Laura leaving a fashionable apartment complex.

“This last photo is a little more recent,” said Rose, “taken from a restaurant patio overlooking the Bayshore Marina.”

Goldie looked at the photo and saw Laura sipping a glass of wine. She was wearing a bikini and sitting on the deck of a luxury powerboat. Jack, wearing a golf shirt and cargo shorts, sat beside her.

“So?” asked Rose. “Do they look familiar?”

“Yes, that is them,” admitted Goldie. “They have been in my club a few times. I think the guy told one of my waitresses that they were from Edmonton. Why?”

“From Edmonton? That’s a laugh,” said Rose. She studied Goldie’s face briefly and said, “You really don’t know who they are, do you?”

Goldie shook his head and said, “Just a couple of customers. That’s all I know.”

“Who have they been meeting with in there? Have they been coming in with any other people?”

“Not anyone that I’ve seen. They seem like a nice couple. Real friendly with everyone. My staff likes them. No complaints. They’re not troublemakers.”

“Any other customers they socialize with?”

“Not really. As I said, they’re friendly with everyone, but don’t socialize with anyone in particular.”

“If I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll have the tax man all over your joint. Health inspectors, too.”