“Feel better?” asked Jack.

“No, I should have shot it,” replied Adams.

“It would be the American thing to do.”

Adams stared hard at Jack a moment, then grinned. “Don’t give me that shit. If you had a gun you would probably put a slug up the muffler and then chew off the radiator hose and push it over a cliff.”

Jack smiled in response and said, “We each have our own style.”

Adams put his hand on Jack’s shoulder and said, “Guess I’m not pissed at you. What you say makes sense. I think I’m pissed off at the world we live in. Don’t know who the good guys are anymore.”

“In my books, I’m talking to one of the good guys,” replied Jack.

“Thanks, buddy.”

“Let me give you a hug … or are you afraid that will ruin your two-gun-packing macho image?”

“Only if you keep your underwear on and promise not to tell anyone. Otherwise I’ll be forced to shoot ya.”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” replied Jack.

Adams followed Jack into the main office and saw the open door into Davidson’s office. Inside, District Attorney White was standing and talking to Davidson, who was sitting behind his desk.

What’s he doing here again? Am I being arrested?

Then Adams saw Weber and the other two bosses were also in the office talking. By the looks on their faces, he knew they were angry.

Jack also saw them and as he approached, Davidson spotted him and gestured at him with his hand. The others turned and looked at Jack and their faces displayed a combination of anger and pure hatred. As Jack neared, Weber stepped forward and slammed the door in his face.

Jack shrugged and returned to where Adams stood.“I suddenly feel like I’m persona non grata right now. Gee, I wonder why?”

Adams didn’t reply, but stared at the closed door with his mouth gaped open. Seconds later, his body trembled as he gazed around the office. Up until this moment, he still had some doubts that his car had been bugged. He didn’t want to believe he was really considered a bad guy. Now he had no doubt.

As he looked at his colleagues sitting at their desks, he felt like he was in no man’s land, with enemies on both sides. Family was the only thing he had left and all he wanted to do was go home and hug his wife.

“I thought I felt alone before,” mumbled Adams, “but it was nothing compared to how I feel now. Are you done? I want to get the hell away from these guys.”

“I’m done.”

As they were heading for the door, three men were sitting in the general office talking in hushed tones to each other. One looked up at them and said, “Hang on a sec.” He gave a furtive glance toward Davidson’s office, before rushing into Weber’s empty office, only to return a moment later and hand Jack a desk ornament. It was a small U.S. Customs and Immigration flag attached to a small plastic pole and stand.

“The guys … me …” the man started to say to Jack, but glanced at Adams and mumbled apologetically, “We didn’t know, uh, until a few minutes ago that they,” he nodded toward Davidson’s office and continued, “uh, that they were doing what they were doing.” He looked at Jack. “We wanted to give you something,” he added solemnly, before turning on his heel and returning to the others.

When Jack and Adams stepped outside, Jack waved the flag in front of Adams’s face and said, “Looks to me like you might not be alone as much as you think.”

chapter forty-seven

It was Friday afternoon in Vancouver when Miguel and Ramiro parked their car beside a car wash. They were immediately met by two members of Satans Wrath, who directed them into the public washroom. Neither Miguel nor Ramiro protested when they were then searched for weapons and any electronic listening devices. After that, they were taken for a ride in a van being driven by one of the bikers.

Lance strolled with Damien through Stanley Park and each man was enjoying an ice-cream cone when Lance received a message on his BlackBerry.

“Seems our two Mexicans have picked up heat today,” said Lance.

“Which means the police knew them all along,” said Damien.

“Also means Taggart is probably dead and the cops don’t give a shit if we see them or not,” replied Lance.

“Looks that way.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Tell them to bring the two taco boys over. We’ll have to take some precautions, but I want to hear what they’ve got to say. We’re also going to have to prepare them for the amount of heat that will be coming down on them. Make sure they don’t do anything stupid like popping off wives and kids.”

Twenty-five minutes later, Miguel and Ramiro met with Damien and Lance on the beach at Stanley Park. Their backs were to a seawall that rose above head level and they stood amongst a cluster of sun-bleached driftwood logs strewn on the beach.

Several members of Satans Wrath patrolled nearby to ensure none of the police who had been following would be in a position to monitor any conversation.

Damien was not a man who was shocked easily, but even his mouth hung open in stunned silence as he listened to what Miguel had to say.

“You mean to tell me you let him escape?” he said, flabbergasted.

“Not me,” Miguel hastened to say. “The men in the house.”

“Let me get this right,” said Damien. “You beat him unconscious, strip him naked, handcuff him to a pipe, torture him, threaten his family, and then …” Damien paused, rolling his eyes at Lance, before turning back to Miguel, “and then you let him escape?”

“Yes, that is what happened.”

Damien glanced at Lance who shook his head and muttered, “I can’t believe it.”

Damien turned his attention back to Miguel. “Do you just think he might have been a little pissed off?”

“A little pissed off?”

“Do you recall me telling you Taggart was … make that is, a very dangerous man and to kill him immediately?”

“Yes, but —”

“But what?” snarled Damien.

“That was not my decision. It was Big Al who made that decision.”

“And this house … let me get this correct,” said Damien facetiously, “you said was out in the desert, surrounded by professional soldiers with trained commandos inside.”

“Yes.”

“And not only did he escape, but first he shoved a gun up El Pero’s ass and shot him, then bit Big Al’s nose off, broke his arms, threw him down a shaft, and broke his neck?”

“Yes … it is very sad about Big Al. They even said from the blood Big Al coughed up, it looked like his ribs had been broken, which punctured his lungs, as well.”

“Yeah, it sounds to me like Taggart was a little pissed off,” said Lance.

Miguel saw the sarcastic look on Damien’s face and squirmed his back against the protruding end of a driftwood log before adding, “But I have a new boss, so everything is okay now. We are still interested in doing business with you.”

“Do you believe me now that Taggart is a dangerous man?” asked Damien.

“Yes, of course.”

“Think about what he did to El Pero and Big Al for asking questions about his family.”

“What do you mean?” asked Miguel.

“Could you imagine what someone like Taggart would do if you had actually harmed his family?”

“Well … I —”

“Then you brought a parade of policemen with you when you went to meet my guys at the car wash. Did it occur to you the police might wonder what part I had in Taggart being tortured and the questions asked?”

“Yes, that is unfortunate,” replied Miguel looking around, “but I am sure the police cannot hear us.”