… I know Forensics likely won’t come up with anything on the Honda, but they still haven’t told us if there are any prints on the broken wine bottle left at the scene. Tomorrow we could canvas the neighbourhood where the Honda was stolen from and see if anyone saw something.”
“And if both of those avenues turn out to be dead ends, then what?”
“I don’t know. What would you suggest?”
“I don’t know, either, which is why I called Taggart.”
Boyle frowned. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry if I came off sounding like an ass, but I wouldn’t get your hopes up on him. He said he had some other ideas, but didn’t come up with them when I asked. Bet you don’t get any phone call from him tomorrow.”
Connie gave a grim smile. She believed Taggart would get results. It was how he would get results … or the consequences of his results that worried her.
Chapter Six
It was eight o’clock at night when Jack and Laura drove to the Hanoi House restaurant. They found the van parked in the alley behind the restaurant. It was a dented, older model Ford Econoline with curtains across the back window. The licence plate was registered to the restaurant.
Parked next to the van was a new silver Audi. Jack radioed in the plate and discovered it was registered to Tom Nguyen, who was fifty-six years old. Jack then had them cross-check the name through the Canadian Police Information Centre database.
Tom Nguyen was listed as having a long criminal record for drug-related offences, assault and armed robbery, but no criminal convictions within the last fourteen years. There was also a notation on CPIC that Nguyen was of interest to the Asian Organized Crime Task Force with a request that they be notified of the circumstances or reason for the check.
“No criminal convictions of Nguyen for fourteen years,” noted Laura. “What do you think?” she said, with a wry smile. “Is AOCTF hassling some poor guy who has long since learned the error of his ways and is trying to be a good, hard-working citizen?” she mocked.
“I’m sure he’s no poster boy,” replied Jack. “More likely he has clawed his way up the corporate ladder and has others do the dirty work.”
“You going to give AOCTF a call?”
“I’ll wait until tomorrow and give Roger Morris a call when he comes in.”
“Wish they could find the leak,” said Laura, frowning. “Bet it’s one of the Asian translators they’re using on their wiretaps.”
“I asked Roger about that six months ago when he first told me he thought they might have a leak. I asked him if it could be one of the monitors who is the leak. I recommended a good friend of mine, Vivian Mah, out of Victoria, but he thinks his monitors are clean. He’s not even a hundred percent certain they have a leak. They were getting close to busting the head of one of the triads when things went sideways. From the circumstances, he only suspects they were tipped off.”
“Time will tell,” replied Laura. “It always does.”
“Hopefully, but in the meantime, he warned us to keep it in mind before passing anything on to them.”
Jack and Laura parked in the next alley over so they could see if the van left. A call to the restaurant told them it was open until two o’clock in the morning.
They took turns napping in the car and there was no activity until thirty minutes after the restaurant closed. The Audi left first, followed by the van. When the vehicles reached the end of the alley, they went in opposite directions.
Jack and Laura followed the van, which went to an older home in nearby Delta. The van parked in a garage facing the back alley and the driver, a heavy-set Asian man, walked across the yard and into the house.
Jack had barrelled out of the car to watch, then used his portable radio to have Laura pick him up a block away.
“Well?” she asked, when he got back in the car.
“Saw about four or five Asian males watching TV in the living room,” said Jack. “Most looked to be in their twenties, except for the guy driving tonight. He looks to be about thirty-five. I also scooped the licence plates to four cars out front.”
“How long do you want to give them?” asked Laura, stifling a yawn.
“Either one hour after the lights go out,” replied Jack, “or if they don’t, then I’ll chance it and go in one hour before sunrise. Go ahead and sleep. I’ll take the first hour.”
“No warrant,” sighed Laura. “Nothing will be admissible.”
“If we get an informant, he won’t know if we had a warrant or not.”
“Think Connie knows what we’re doing?”
Jack shrugged. “She knows we operate in the grey zone.”
“The grey zone? You mean breaking the law.”
“I like to call it the grey zone.”
“Yeah, that will work really well in front of a judge,” Laura said, facetiously. “Gee, your Honour, I thought operating in the grey zone was the same as diplomatic immunity. You mean you’re sending us to jail?”
Jack’s mouth quirked in response.
Laura sighed. “Well, right now I would like to enter the sleep zone,” she said, tilting her seat back and closing her eyes.
At three-thirty the lights went out, and an hour later, Jack picked the lock on the side door leading into the garage as Laura stood beside him, watching the house. Once inside the garage, Laura took up a position where she could see the rear door to the house through a garage window.
The van was unlocked and Jack used his flashlight to search inside. The two seats in the front of the van had a curtain behind them, blocking any view into the rear cargo area. Jack parted the curtain and saw that the floor was littered with candy wrappers and a couple of plastic soda bottles. Unfortunately, so was the front of the van, indicating that the garbage may not have been left by anyone doing surveillance.
Jack opened the glove box. It held nothing of significance, so he went to the rear of the van for a more detailed search. He collected a few of the candy wrappers and one part full plastic bottle of cola. With the amount of garbage still in the van, he figured it would not be missed.
It was when his flashlight scanned over a part-full bottle of grape Gatorade that he knew the hit and run wasn’t accidental. The fluid in the bottle was yellow.
I-HIT has a murder on their hands …
Chapter Seven
It was nine-thirty in the morning when Jack returned to his office after dropping the Gatorade bottle and candy wrappers off with Forensics.
Laura blinked and sat up from where she had been sleeping with her head on her desk and raised her eyebrows.
“I told them the bottle was a priority,” said Jack. “Keep your fingers crossed. We should hear by noon, but if you want to go home and get some sleep, go for it.”
“I’ll hang in,” replied Laura. “I won’t be able to sleep until I find out if they can identify bottle-boy.”
“Forensics is pretty busy. They said it would take longer for the candy wrappers.”
“Yeah, but with the bottle, I’m betting it was a one-man surveillance.”
“Possibly.”
“You guys are so lucky that way. You’ve got better equipment.”
“You could pack a funnel,” suggested Jack.
“I’ve thought of it, but the idea grosses me out.”
“I also swung past