Samurai Code. Don Easton
replied, “I called the inspector back and informed him that what you did was a basic undercover strategy known as the Sophie Solution.”
“You what!” exclaimed Jack.
Rose laughed and said, “Not really. Still, I’ll leave it to your imagination as to how embarrassed he was when I did call back. He wasn’t aware of all the details.” Rose leaned forward, clasping her hands on her desk before saying, “Good work last night. Both of you.” There was no doubt she meant what she said.
Jack and Laura nodded silently.
After leaning back in her chair, Rose continued, “Your report said you were originally introduced to Mad Dog through an informant.”
“That’s right,” replied Jack.
“How about the threat level to him or her?”
“The informant is safe.”
“Good enough. You seem confident about that?”
“I am,” replied Jack, quietly, in a tone that betrayed some sadness to Laura’s ears. It crossed her mind to ask him about it later, but decided against it. Jack was extremely protective about his informants. If he wanted to tell her something, he would do so without her asking.
“So what is next on your agenda?” asked Rose.
“We would still like to do a little follow-up on the guns we seized. Track Mad Dog’s phone tolls and see if we can figure out who in the U.S. supplied them to him. Might be able to tip off the Americans and have them put a stop to it.”
“Illegal guns being smuggled into Canada is a priority. Keep me up to date.”
Once back in their office, Laura said, “So? What’s your first impression of our new boss?”
“She seems okay.” Jack then filled her in on the conversation he’d had with her.
“Sounds honest,” said Laura when Jack had finished.
“There is one other thing you may wish to keep in mind,” said Jack. “Remember her comment about reading my undercover notes?”
Laura nodded.
“I keep them in my desk drawer … my locked desk drawer.”
“Oh, man. You mean she picked —”
“Must have accidentally left it unlocked,” interrupted Jack. “Like that office door in Toronto,” he added with a grin.
“I see,” said Laura, frowning. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.”
“At least she’s honest about it.”
“I guess. So, you trust her?”
“Not particularly. Too soon to know, but my initial feelings are good.”
“Not exactly someone you would call a good friend yet?”
“No. She is our boss, so I don’t ever see her becoming a good friend. Her position demands otherwise.”
“But you’re my boss and I thought we were good friends?”
“Without question. But we’re also partners and don’t normally have to answer directly to Isaac. If Rose is good, I feel an obligation to protect her from knowing something she could be criticized for.”
“I hear you. So, what do you want to do now? Personally I feel like getting out of here and grabbing a cup of tea someplace. My treat. Buy you a coffee?”
Jack sighed and said, “I need to visit a friend receiving hospice care. Won’t take long. Maybe an hour.”
“Is it anybody I know?”
Jack shook his head and said, “You’ve never met her. An old informant.” Jack paused before continuing, “At this point there is no harm disclosing her identity. She’s a … or was, a hooker by the name of Ophelia.” He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled before saying, “Well, not that old I guess. Cancer,” he added, for explanation. “Maybe two weeks left at the most.”
“Is she the one who introduced you to Mad Dog?”
Jack nodded and said, “I want to let her know how it went.”
“She did good, turning you on to that crowd.”
“She also turned in the guy who robbed and murdered that eighty-eight-year-old war veteran in his house last year.”
“That was the one I was on!” exclaimed Laura. “The UC where you brought me in pretending to be your girlfriend.”
“Ophelia doesn’t have anybody in her life. I owe her.”
“Want me to go with you?”
“No, but thanks, anyway. I will take you up on your offer to buy me a coffee first. Right now I could use a cup.”
***
Jack enjoyed his coffee break and found the light conversation he had with Laura relaxing. He wouldn’t have relaxed, if he had known that in the early hours of the following morning he would be using his 9 mm to kill an innocent victim in a back alley.
7
It was ten o’clock in the morning when Kang Lee arrived at the Pan Pacific Hotel in downtown Vancouver for a private meeting with The Shaman.
Lee sipped his espresso while seated on the balcony of the Jade Suite, located on the sixteenth floor. The Shaman, seated next to him, took a moment to gaze out over Vancouver Harbour. The view was exquisite and included the Lions Gate Bridge and the mountains.
Normally Lee would have enjoyed the view, but he had other things on his mind. Have I been selected to number two position or not?
The Shaman, still wearing the hotel bathrobe, took a swallow of freshly squeezed orange juice. After putting the glass down, he ran a hand through his thick, dyed-black hair that he kept trimmed to collar length.
The bathrobe concealed a body that Lee knew was tall, athletic, and agile. The Shaman had a passion for kenjutsu, a military art form originally created in Japan during the fifteenth century, primarily designed to instruct samurai in the use of swords. He had reached the highest level attainable in the sport, that of kyoshi, which made him a master. Overall, the muscular tone of his body, coupled with his agility and appearance, made him look much younger than he was. It was only the ruggedness of his face that betrayed his age of fifty-two.
“So, tell me,” said The Shaman, “in regard to the immigrants we have brought in, have any new pathways come to light?”
“Two new situations within the last month,” replied Lee. “A man who gained a position in Pacific Rim Oil and Gas has some valuable inside information that will benefit us greatly on the stock market. He asks that we arrange for more of his relatives to come to Canada.”
“It will be done. The other?”
“The president of another company, Eagle Eye Drilling and Exploration, is having an affair with his personal secretary. The president is married with two children. The personal secretary is a young man we brought over two years ago. Neither the president’s wife nor the company executives know that the president is gay, let alone prone to pillow talk about private company business. We have collected enough information to make the company’s next stockholder meeting extremely … shall we say, newsworthy?”
“Do you anticipate another advantage on the market, perhaps by selling short? Or will he be approached to pay by some other means for our silence?”
“The company may be on the verge of a major discovery. It is still being analyzed. I should know more within a week as to which way to approach the situation.”
“Excellent. And our other ventures … the intrepid Canadian. How is he doing?”
Lee smiled. The intrepid Canadian was Arthur Goldie, who oversaw