LITMIR.BIZ

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the cars parked out front. One was a neighbour who lives across the street, so count it out. The other three are all Vietnamese males and all have criminal records related to drug trafficking. One of ’em is still on probation. Here’s the info on all of them,” she added, handing Jack their photos and criminal records.

      Jack scanned the photos and recognized the heavy-set driver of the van. “This is who drove the van last night,” he said, tossing the picture back onto Laura’s desk.

      “Louie Nguyen,” said Laura. “He’s the one on probation. The owner of the Audi parked out back of the restaurant was named Tom Nguyen. Maybe they’re related.”

      “Nguyen is the most popular surname in Vietnam. It is used by thirty-nine percent of the population. Next is the name Tran, used by eleven percent. It doesn’t necessarily mean that they are related —” Jack paused to answer his phone.

      “It’s Gerry down at Forensics,” responded a happy voice. “Got some good news for you.”

      “That was quick,” said Jack.

      “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you would be standing at my door first thing in the morning with a bottle of piss in your hand if it wasn’t important. I got some prints. I’m sure it was him who refilled the bottle because the thumb-print was near the base, pointing down.”

      Jack gave Laura the thumbs-up sign, then wrote down the details. When Gerry was done, Jack said, “Gerry, I have a favour to ask. My investigation could involve an unidentified member who is leaking information.”

      “Son of a bitch.”

      “Could you keep the work you did for me to yourself? If anyone asks, deny I was ever there this morning and let me know who does the asking.”

      “You got it,” replied Gerry.

      “Thanks. I owe you one.”

      “Maybe next time bring me a full bottle of amber rum instead of piss.”

      “Will do,” Jack chuckled.

      “We did it?” asked Laura.

      “You bet,” replied Jack, bluntly. “We’ve got our man.” He glanced at the notes he made and said, “He doesn’t match any of the plates we ran. His name is Harry Ho … and no, it is not spelled H-a-i-r-y.”

      Laura grinned and said, “Someone has a warped sense of humour. Bet he is a hell of a fighter or a fast runner.”

      “I doubt his parents knew enough English to realize ‘ho’ is slang for whore and put the two names together. Anyway, he’s twenty-three years old and on probation for his third conviction of trafficking in drugs.”

      “Perfect.” Laura smiled. “We’ve got our surveillance man. Makes pulling the all-nighter worthwhile.”

      “Peaks and valleys. Right now we’re on a peak,” said Jack.

      “What’s this asking Forensics to tell you if anyone calls about it? Do you really think Boyle is that stupid?”

      “You must be tired. Do I need to answer that?”

      Laura grinned and shook her head.

      “Besides, AOCTF think they have a leak,” added Jack. “Who knows where this will end up. If anyone starts nosing around, I want to know.”

      While Laura went to obtain a photo of Harry Ho, Jack ran his name through the Motor Vehicle Branch and discovered that he owned a newer-model Mazda RX7 registered to an address in Richmond.

      When Laura returned with his photo, Jack examined it carefully. “Young punk,” he muttered. “He’s even smiling in the mug shot.”

      “Not like he had anything to be afraid of,” replied Laura. “His record shows he was sentenced to another term of probation, even though he was still on probation for his previous conviction when he got caught that time.”

      “He won’t be smiling when I grab him by the throat,” said Jack, bitterly.

      “Want me to risk checking with his probation officer?” asked Laura.

      “Go for it,” replied Jack, “but keep it general in case it gets back to him. Say that we were running licence plates in regard to a drug investigation and Ho’s car happened to be parked in the vicinity. While you’re doing that, I’ll call I-HIT and let Connie know she has a murder to investigate.”

      Connie Crane hung up her phone and walked over to where Boyle was sitting at his desk and said, “Jack called me. Says he is confident that yesterday’s hit and run was a targeted hit by the Vietnamese. He won’t confirm a motive yet, but suggested we discreetly find out everything we can about Mia Parker, along with anyone she associates with.”

      “Why is he confident it was intentional?” asked Boyle.

      “He wouldn’t say, except that he expected to meet with a confidential informant in person tomorrow to get more details.”

      “Yeah, right,” said Boyle, sarcastically. “He’s blowing smoke up our asses.”

      “Why do you say that?”

      “The victim was killed yesterday at twelve-forty-eight p.m.” Boyle uttered the time of death as though he were mimicking giving evidence in court, then continued, “As of last night Taggart said he didn’t have any Vietnamese informants.”

      “I know when she was killed. If you are trying to impress me with your memory, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

      Boyle glared. “I’m simply saying he wouldn’t have had time to get an informant this soon. He’s bullshitting … trying to make himself look good.”

      Connie eyed Boyle for a moment. “Jack doesn’t need to make himself look good when it comes to getting results. He is very good at what he does. Sometimes he needs to make himself look innocent, maybe, but not good.”

      “What do you mean by that?”

      “I mean that we better do what he suggests and see what tomorrow brings.”

      “So you think we should take him seriously?” Boyle frowned.

      “From what I know about Jack, it would be a fatal mistake not to,” replied Connie, gravely.

      “Well … it would have been nice if he had offered us some evidence before we go to all this work,” griped Boyle.

      “Oh, I’m sure the evidence will come soon.” Connie sighed. We’ll probably be putting it in body bags …

      Chapter Eight

      After speaking with Connie, Jack remembered that AOCTF were interested in the owner of the Audi parked at the Hanoi House Restaurant next to the van and called Sergeant Roger Morris.

      After a friendly greeting, Roger said, “I got the computer kick-back this morning, saying you ran Tom Nguyen’s name last night. I was wondering if you would call.”

      “No idea on who your leak is yet?” asked Jack.

      “Not a clue,” sighed Roger. “Like the old shell game. Keeping track of who you tell or what misinformation you spread. I feel shitty about the whole situation. I think we’ve got a great group. Bugs the hell out of me to think someone might be dirty. Only a few of us in the office know what I suspect and I want to keep it that way. Our secretary is one person I trust because she came on board two months after the initial leak.”

      “You told me you weren’t a hundred percent certain you had a leak,” said Jack, nodding at Laura who gave him an exaggerated smile after hanging up from speaking to a probation officer about Ho.

      “I know, but I think when I called you, I didn’t want to believe it,” lamented Roger. “Since then, we have had a couple of other things go sideways. Always with the Chinese. We’ve nailed a lot of the Viets without much problem.”

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