Don Easton

Subverting Justice


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and listening to you talk like an old man.”

      “An old man with a lot of experience,” Lance said evenly.

      “I can’t believe you’d worry about Taggart. Sure he knows we killed Damien. I wanted him to know. But knowing and proving are two different things.”

      “But what you did to him … twice in one day. First the message on the wall and then answering Damien’s phone when he called to warn Damien.”

      Pure E sneered. “So what?”

      “You’ve just moved from Winnipeg, so you don’t know Taggart. We’ve dealt with him before. He’ll go crazy and he isn’t beyond stepping outside the law. All you did was paint a big target on your back.”

      “You want to speak to me about targets? Think about your buddy Damien. This shit wouldn’t have happened if Taggart hadn’t messed with his family. Threatening to put Buck in jail — that’s what drove Vicki to take a shot at him.”

      “Yeah, and so?”

      “If Taggart’s gonna make me a target, then maybe it’s time to put him in his place.” Pure E paused to flick an ant off the table. “I heard he’s married with a couple kids?”

      “His wife’s a doctor,” Whiskey Jake offered. “They got two young sons.”

      “Perfect.”

      Oh, shit. “What’re you thinking?” Lance asked.

      Pure glanced at his watch. “I’m thinking if we light a fire under Hackman and Trapp’s asses, they can be at Taggart’s house when his kids come home from school.”

      Shock registered on Lance’s face. “You’re not —”

      Pure E shut Lance up with a look of contempt, then said, “I’m gonna give Taggart a present he’ll never forget. That fucker cost us a tonne of coke. It’s payback time!”

      Lance swallowed. Oh, fuck.

      Chapter Three

      Jack fidgeted with a pen as he spoke on the phone. Exhaustion and stress had put him in a daze and he had to make a conscious effort to focus on his conversation with his wife. “I should be home about four-thirty,” he mumbled.

      “Perfect timing. I’ll probably have the fall cleanup in the yard finished by then,” Natasha said brusquely.

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Come on, I’m teasing. I need something to keep me busy for the next week before I go back to work.”

      “Looking forward to working at a new clinic?”

      “I think so. It’s a safer neighbourhood. The doctor I’m replacing told me she loves it there, but she’s too ill to work and is scheduled for more chemo.”

      Jack looked at a streak of soot on the cuff of his shirt. Christ, what they must have gone through. What would it be like, being tied to a chair and watching your wife being burned to death?

      “The other two doctors seem really nice. I think I’ll fit in well.” Natasha paused for a response. When none came she asked, “Are you okay?”

      Jack sighed. “It’s been a hell of a day.”

      “When you called earlier you said it went well in Victoria. I expected you home by noon. It’s almost three.”

      “Things did go well in Victoria. It’s here that everything went to shit.” Rose gestured to him from the doorway. “I gotta go. Meeting with the brass.”

      “Okay, I love you.”

      “Love you, too, babe.”

      Floyd Hackman slowly drove past Taggart’s house. The white van he and Vic Trapp were in was in need of a wash, and the magnetic signs stuck to the doors read Abe’s Furnace Repair, along with a phone number. They saw a woman who fit Taggart’s wife’s description crouched with her back to the street working in a flower bed.

      “Fuckin’ perfect,” Trapp said. He glanced at his watch. “Bet their kids’ll be home from school soon. Park up ahead. It’ll be easy to shoot out the back,” he added, gesturing with his thumb toward the curtained-off portion of the van.

      Chapter Four

      “Assistant Commissioners Isaac and Mortimer are expecting you.”

      Jack nodded cordially to the secretary, then followed Rose in. Isaac and Mortimer sat in upholstered chairs, part of a cluster around a coffee table. Jack took in Mortimer’s appearance. Double chins coupled with an egg-shaped bald head. His skin was a pasty white and his hands, wrists, and fingers were pudgy. Looks like somebody put Humpty Dumpty back together again.

      Isaac looked up and his face became grim.

      Yes, sir, I feel sickened by what happened, too. Then Jack’s eyes met Mortimer’s and he saw the look of disapproval. Okay, so my beard is down to my chest and the bags under my eyes make me look like a raccoon. You try doing what I do.

      Isaac’s voice was grave. “Assistant Commissioner Mortimer, this is Staff Sergeant Rose Wood. She heads our intelligence unit. Corporal Jack Taggart is one of her investigators.”

      Mortimer acknowledged the introduction with a grunt.

      Isaac gestured for them to sit and then focused on Jack. “We’ll talk about the main reason you’re here in a moment, but first, I received a call from Inspector Dyck about your undercover operation in Victoria. Please explain the circumstances to my colleague here. I was told the suspect pulled a gun and that a weapon was discharged during the arrest.”

      At the mention of a gun, Mortimer stared bug-eyed at Jack.

      “Yes, sir. Basically, I was involved in an undercover operation to gather evidence on a murder. The suspect lived on a boat and I wanted to have a look at the tender —”

      “Tender?” Mortimer questioned.

      “The small boat, often a dingy, that larger boats use to get to shore.” Jack saw Mortimer nod, so he continued. “The motor on the tender may have been damaged by the victim seconds before he was murdered. The suspect invited me on board, but caught me looking at the tender and pulled a gun.”

      Mortimer glowered at Jack. “What were you doing working on cases where guns were involved?”

      Jack was aghast. “Sir?”

      “That sort of thing should’ve been turned over to the police! You shouldn’t have been involved in something like that!”

      Turned over to the police? What the hell? Jack’s tone displayed his contempt. “Sir, I don’t know about you, but I am a police officer. I’ve got a badge and everything, including a gun. Many of the people I investigate carry guns or have access to them.”

      Mortimer opened and closed his mouth, seemingly at a loss for words.

      Jack glanced at Rose. Come on Rose! Don’t be giving me the hairy eyeball! This guy’s so far removed from reality he doesn’t even think of us as police officers! What the hell?

      “It’s okay,” Isaac assured Mortimer. “Nobody was hurt and the suspect was apprehended. I’d like to hear about the weapon being discharged, though.”

      “Yes, sir,” Jack replied. “Corporal Connie Crane —”

      “A member from the Integrated Homicide Investigation team I assigned to be part of the cover team,” Isaac noted for Mortimer’s benefit.

      “Yes,” Jack said. “I-HIT had a cover team hidden in a nearby boat. When the suspect pulled the gun, Corporal Crane ordered him to drop it. He didn’t. She fired a shot, which distracted him, and I was then able to disarm him. I believe Corporal Crane saved my life.”

      “Similar to how Inspector