‘I want money. One hundred Gs.’
The demand surprised Striker. ‘One hundred grand?’ He laughed softly. ‘Sure, no problem. Do you take personal cheques?’
Sleeves did not laugh. ‘One hundred grand. The information is worth more.’
‘How much more?’
‘How much do you value human life?’
Striker looked at Felicia, and she just shrugged. He thought it over for a moment, then stepped closer to Sleeves, purposely invading the man’s personal space. ‘How do I know you’re not full of shit, Sleeves? Or that you won’t screw us like Lucky Eddie did? Tell me something about Harry and Koda to get me started.’
The ex-Prowler looked back, unblinking. ‘Me and Chipotle . . . we did their burning.’
‘Chipotle? Who the hell’s Chipotle?’
Sleeves laughed bemusedly. ‘You don’t know a thing, do you?’
‘And what burning?’ Felicia asked.
But Sleeves did not answer her.
‘One hundred grand and I will open up your eyes,’ he said. ‘But be forewarned, you aren’t going to like what you see.’
Seventy
With Sleeves handcuffed and in Felicia’s custody, Striker snuck away to check out the basement suite. The moment he walked down the concrete stairs and opened the door, the lack of floor space became immediately apparent.
The suite was nothing more than a studio – one room consisting of a small fold-out couch and a kitchenette that didn’t even have a proper stove but a simple hotplate and a microwave. Oddly, the place looked not only clean but immaculate. Barely lived in. There were no weapons to be seen and no sign of drugs or drug paraphernalia.
No scale, no packaging products, no drugs score-sheets.
The only thing of interest Striker found were some empty packaging for Duracell D-size batteries and some broken down cell phone pieces – parts that could be used to make a detonator, no doubt, but also a hundred other things as well.
Evidence-wise, it left him with nothing.
Frustrated and a little mystified by the scene, he left the suite. When he returned to the lane where Felicia had Sleeves handcuffed and seated on the ground, Felicia gave him a curious look. ‘Well?’ she asked.
‘Shit outta luck,’ Striker said.
Sleeves looked up from his seated position. ‘What were you doing back there? You go in my suite? You need a warrant for that.’
Striker ignored the man and jotted down his findings in his notebook. As he did this, Felicia returned to Lakewood to get the undercover cruiser. Once she was back, Striker told Sleeves to stay put or else, then moved closer to Felicia, where the two were out of earshot.
‘So what you think?’ he asked.
She shrugged. ‘Who knows if he knows anything? Besides, we’ll never get a hundred grand from Source Handling. Not even with some proof of return. You know how stingy they are. We’d be lucky to get ten Gs.’
Striker nodded and looked back at the ex-Prowler. ‘He knows something. I believe that wholeheartedly. But he has no intention of telling us. That’s why he demanded a hundred grand – he knows we can’t get it. He’s playing a game. But why? What does he really want?’
Felicia had a tight expression masking her normally pretty features. ‘I feel uneasy. I mean, we can’t just let him go. He might be responsible for the bombings.’
Striker nodded. ‘I agree. But what evidence are we going to hold him on? There’s nothing tangible on him and nothing in the suite—and I mean nothing. So what you wanna go on? Circumstantial evidence? Similar fact? I’m sure defence counsel would love that.’
Felicia didn’t smile. ‘He’s dangerous, Jacob. What if he is our guy? What if we let him go and he sets off another bomb and it kills more people? I don’t want that on my conscience. This guy has no filter – he’s killed a kid before.’
‘Never proved.’
‘We fucking know he did it.’
To hear Felicia curse was unusual. Striker could feel her tension. But so what? He agreed with her morally, but legally what could they do? He took a moment to call the Road Boss and fill him in. Inspector Osaka sounded exhausted from all the chaos of the last two days, and Striker had little doubt the man was being grilled constantly by Acting Deputy Chief Laroche.
‘I want to put surveillance on Sleeves,’ Striker said.
‘I’m sure you do,’ Osaka replied. ‘And so do I. But Strike Force is already working on the kidnapping in District 4.’
‘What kidnapping?’
‘It’s unrelated – an overseas thing from Hong Kong. But a ten-year-old girl is involved and it’s life or death. They’ve even called in Property Crime for this one – I don’t have a team to spare.’
Striker nodded absently. ‘I wasn’t aware of all that.’
‘Why would you be? You’ve been going crazy on the bombings – speaking of which, I’ll be expecting a full status report later on.’ Osaka sighed. ‘It’s been a real bad couple of days in Vancouver. Normally, I’d just request support from the Feds, but Special O’s way out in the valley today on a gang hit.’
Striker searched for a different solution. He looked down the alley at Niles Quaid’s undercover cruiser.
It gave him an idea.
‘How about this?’ he said. ‘I got Niles Quaid here in a plainclothes car. He spent four years in Strike Force, and he was the Road Boss for half of those. Why don’t we get him and his partner to do some makeshift surveillance for now?’
‘And if they’re spotted?’
‘So what? If Sleeves thinks he’s being watched, so much the better. He’ll be careful not to do anything stupid. It’s better than nothing.’
Osaka said nothing for a long moment. When it had been so long that Striker thought they might have been disconnected, the inspector okayed the plan, but there was uncertainty in his voice. ‘Overtime’s approved, Striker. Just keep me informed. I mean it – I got Laroche on my ass every minute of the day right now.’
‘Strange. I didn’t think he was your type, sir.’
Osaka let out a small laugh, one that sounded more like released tension than humour. ‘Just keep me informed.’
Striker said he would and hung up the phone. He then relayed the information to Felicia. Seeing that she was satisfied with the approach, he set everyone up for the operation.
Once done, Striker walked back over to Sleeves. He stood him up and removed the man’s handcuffs. The ex-Prowler said nothing. He just headed for the stairs, limping noticeably on the left side. Halfway there, he stopped. He turned, took a long hard look at Striker, and probed into him with those cold blue eyes of his.
Striker met the man’s stare.
‘Keep moving,’ he said.
And Sleeves continued down the stairs.
Striker watched the man close the door and disappear from sight. There was a dangerousness about him, something that put Striker on edge. Even more so than most murderers he dealt with. When Felicia walked over, she stared at the suite and shuddered. Her words echoed exactly what he was thinking.
‘That guy gets a one hundred on the creepy scale.’
Striker couldn’t have agreed more.
Blue eyes had never looked so dark.
Seventy-One
Harry took the elevator up to Source Handling.
Source Handling was a small section, consisting of nothing more than a few desks and the mandatory coffee machine with a tray of sugar packets and nondairy creamers. The unit’s assigned detectives were responsible for investigating the validity of all anonymous tips brought in through the CrimeStoppers programme, and for maintaining and safeguarding the information of police informants, agents, and for all their related restitutions.