There was a reason why the prospects couldn’t meet Balvinder right away. They were waiting in Sy’s apartment to confirm that Jack and Laura had left with Sy, before using the pass key they had been given.

The prospects weren’t the only ones waiting. In a wooded area close to the United States border, Fateh bounced along in the back of a van with one arm draped over Big Bertha. A gang member by the name of Hadad drove, while three other gang members sat with him in the back of the van.

Fateh looked out the window as the van approached an uprooted tree beside the road. Rutted wheel tracks led past the fallen tree into the woods. “This is it,” he said. “Hadad and I checked it out early this morning. There is only one way in and out.” He looked at Hadad and said, “Drive past the entrance and find a place where we can watch. They’re in a Budget van. Once they arrive, give ’em a minute to get in there and park. Then we introduce them to Big Bertha.”

Jack and Laura gave Sy a curious look when he arrived and climbed in the rented van. He was carrying a box made of thin plywood that he set in the back of the van.

“What’s that?” asked Jack, hearing a scratching noise come from the box.

“That my friend, is Harry the Hamster.”

“You’ve got a hamster in there? What on earth for?” asked Laura.

“It’s a safety thing,” replied Sy. “Something my friend Cocktail came up with for the lab.”

“The old canary in the coal mine?” asked Jack.

“Yeah, something like that,” replied Sy, laying down on the seat behind Jack and Laura as Jack drove toward the exit.

Shortly after Jack pulled out from the underground parking lot, Sy sat up and directed Jack to drive to a rural area near the United States border, which was about a thirty-minute drive from their apartment.

“Why down there?” asked Jack.

“They didn’t want to do the deal around my apartment. There’s a place in the bush we are to go to. I’ve never been there, but I drew a map,” said Sy, taking a piece of paper out of his coat pocket. “They always pick different places,” he continued. “They know what they’re doing. Don’t worry, there won’t be anyone around to bother us.”

Part way to the destination, Jack realized that a car was following them and told Sy.

Sy glanced back and said, “Yeah, I recognize Croaker, the guy driving. The bikers are pretty cautious. They do that sometimes. I told them what you were driving. Last night they gave me the route we’re taking. They put guys out along the way to make sure we’re not being followed.”

Minutes later, Croaker passed them, slowed in front and turned off.

“Just got the okay,” said Sy. “If he had turned on his four-ways, it would have meant we were being followed and to abort.”

“Good,” said Laura. She swallowed and added, “I feel safer already knowing how careful these guys are.”

“Is your friend Cocktail going to be there?” asked Jack, glancing in the rearview mirror at Sy’s face.

“Naw, Cocktail turned the chemicals over to them. He won’t be coming.”

Jack glanced at Laura who also tried to hide her disappointment by turning to look out the passenger window.

“I thought Cocktail was going to help train Sammy,” said Jack. “We were supposed to meet him.”

Sy shrugged and said, “He’s trained me. Don’t worry, I can set it up. Also got the recipes with me,” he added, gesturing to his BlackBerry.

Back in the RCMP Headquarters building in Vancouver, a monitor saw an indicator light go on in Jack and Laura’s undercover apartment and turned up the volume.

“Hey, we’ve got some action,” she said to her colleague. “Sounds like several men are searching the place.” A man’s voice over the recorder soon announced who they were.

“Hey Taco! Look what I found,” yelled the voice. “Got a broad’s driver’s licence.”

The monitor checked her list of names. Taco was the nickname of a Satans Wrath prospect.

“What ya doin’?” asked Taco.

“I almost missed it,” said the voice. “It was taped to the bottom of the desk drawer and fell off when I opened it. Look, there’s more. We got some of the guy’s ID too.”

“Fuckin’ A,” replied Taco’s voice. “Take a look and see who Jay and Princess really are. Get on your BlackBerry to Pussy Paul right fuckin’ now.”

Both monitors in the RCMP building smiled.

“Snoopy bunch, these bikers,” said one.

“Yeah, we should talk.”

Jack drove as instructed and turned down a rutted lane past a fallen tree leading into a wooded area. Moments later they reached a small clearing where a scattering of empty beer bottles and the blackened remains of a fire pit told him the location was no doubt a favourite hangout for young people looking to party. He parked the van and shut off the engine.

Another van immediately appeared from behind them and Jack realized it had been parked in a location hidden from view on the far side of the clearing.

“That was quick,” said Jack.”

Sy peered out the window and said, “Yeah, that’s Hamburger who is driving. He’s big enough to lift a full barrel by himself. That’s Chugger beside him. He’s no wuss, either.”

Hamburger backed his van up and parked so the rear doors of both vans were facing each other.

“You two wait while I go chat with them first,” said Sy.

Jack and Laura watched as Sy stepped out of the van and met with Hamburger and two other bikers who got out to meet him. Jack opened the door and looked at the group and Sy motioned for him to step out of the van.

Before Jack could move, the roar of an engine caught everyone’s attention as a third van bounced into the clearing and came to a broadside stop.

“What’s going on?” asked Laura nervously.

“Don’t know,” replied Jack. “Maybe more bikers for security.”

“Hope so, or — oh, man!”

Jack looked in disbelief as the side door of the newcomer’s van slid open. Inside they saw a 50-calibre machine gun mounted on a tripod. Fateh looked like a raging fanatic as he swung the muzzle around in their direction.

Chapter Thirty-Four

One of the monitors in the RCMP building started to panic. She had replayed two calls that had come in earlier that morning. The calls were related to the investigation by the Organized Crime Task Force on gangs, but were low priority because the intercept was on the cellphone of a low-level gang member who worked for Balvinder.

The first call was from a young woman who said, “Your phone cool?”

“Yeah, it’s in my mother’s name. What’s up?”

“Sy will be leaving his apartment tomorrow morning with a guy named Jay and his fuckin’ bitch. They’re supposed to go meet some friend of Jay’s to do something. Probably sell him dope. If you meet me, I copied a rough fuckin’ map of where they’re going.”

“Who is this fuckin’ Jay?” asked the man.

“The same guy who drove that night when I called you from the party. I don’t like his attitude. He wanted to fuck me, but I told him he was so old I’d have to lip-start him. Freaked him right out,” she laughed. “I was hoping you would get him that night, too. Today is your chance. Put one right up his ass for me and do his bitch, too.”

The second call was between the same people and the young woman said, “They’re heading out in a couple of minutes. Jay’s got a Budget van. Him, his bitch, and Sy will be inside. Don’t fuck up this time.”

“Don’t worry, with Big Bertha on the scene, a fuckin’ cockroach wouldn’t survive.”