to keep you company watching the border. They didn’t seem to know why.”
The MDEA man shifted in his seat so he could both look at Joseph and yet still be attentive to the checkpoint. “Yeah. Sorry about that, and I really appreciate the backup. None of us really knows what’s up. It’s too early yet.”
“But it ties into Mroz getting killed? I thought you didn’t know who did that.”
“We don’t, but like you said, it’s guaranteed to stireverything up. Roz was big on prescription drug imports, along with a lot of other stuff. With him gone, it’s open season on his organization, or on somebody coming up with something new.”
Delaney pointed at the checkpoint in the distance. “We got information that Roz’s primary contact in Canada was coming over to find out what to do next.”
“Who’s that?” Joseph asked reasonably enough.
But his passenger shrugged. “Don’t know. Just that he was arriving tonight, through here. Supposed to be driving a van like that last one.”
Joseph was nonplussed. It was a shot-in-the-dark—so, how to explain a supervisor riding shotgun?
“Sounds a little skimpy,” he said diplomatically.
Delaney laughed before displaying why he might have achieved his rank. “So, what’s a brass hat like me doing out here in the middle of the night, right?”
“Well…”
The other man waved Joseph’s embarrassment away. “Don’t worry about it. Greg, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Couple of reasons: On the type-A, gotta-get-out-and-play side, it’s been a while since I’ve done any field-work, my wife’s out of town with the kids, and I have a light load on my desk at the moment. On the more serious side, Roz’s killing is a big deal, and most of my guys are out right now trying to find out what’s going on. Maine’s filling up with prescription drugs, and we still don’t know how the product’s getting to market. I mean, yeah, there’re a few crooked docs and pharmacists out there, like everywhere else, and some pills getting diverted between point A and point B—whereverthose happen to be. Also, a lot of mules’re crossing the border, either body packing or squirreling stuff into spare tires and car cavities.
“In fact,” he interrupted himself with a broad smile, “we got one guy who was shooting pills across the St. Croix River in hollow aluminum arrows to a buddy on our side. Good thing he didn’t kill him—that would’ve made for an interesting autopsy.
“Anyhow,” he resumed, “none of that explains the quantities we’re seeing, which’re big and getting bigger.”
“Maybe the Hell’s Angels?” Joseph asked, referring to one of Canada’s largest reputed drug-handling organizations.
But Delaney made a face. “They don’t fool with prescriptions much, and the geography is off. They’re stronger above New Hampshire, Vermont, and points west.”
He stopped talking and reached for the glasses on the dash again. Joseph followed his scrutiny and saw another van, like the first, stopped at the checkpoint.
“I like this one,” Delaney said, binoculars still in place.
Joseph shifted slightly in his seat and rested his left hand on the steering wheel. “What’s your pleasure?”
“We follow him,” Delaney answered. “At least till I can get a team to relieve us. That’s why I asked for your unmarked car, so we don’t spook him.”
Keeping his lights off, Joseph started the engine. After another minute of observation, Delaney exchanged the binoculars for a cell phone. At the border booth, the van pulled away and began heading their way. As it passed by, Joseph saw a single, heavily bearded male atthe wheel, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Joseph waited a few seconds before unobtrusively swinging in behind.
Delaney held the phone up to his ear after speed dialing. “Cathy? Kevin. We picked him up … Uh-huh … Fort Kent … Hang on a sec.”
He looked out the windshield for a moment as the van ahead turned onto Pleasant Street and,
The MDEA man shifted in his seat so he could both look at Joseph and yet still be attentive to the checkpoint. “Yeah. Sorry about that, and I really appreciate the backup. None of us really knows what’s up. It’s too early yet.”
“But it ties into Mroz getting killed? I thought you didn’t know who did that.”
“We don’t, but like you said, it’s guaranteed to stireverything up. Roz was big on prescription drug imports, along with a lot of other stuff. With him gone, it’s open season on his organization, or on somebody coming up with something new.”
Delaney pointed at the checkpoint in the distance. “We got information that Roz’s primary contact in Canada was coming over to find out what to do next.”
“Who’s that?” Joseph asked reasonably enough.
But his passenger shrugged. “Don’t know. Just that he was arriving tonight, through here. Supposed to be driving a van like that last one.”
Joseph was nonplussed. It was a shot-in-the-dark—so, how to explain a supervisor riding shotgun?
“Sounds a little skimpy,” he said diplomatically.
Delaney laughed before displaying why he might have achieved his rank. “So, what’s a brass hat like me doing out here in the middle of the night, right?”
“Well…”
The other man waved Joseph’s embarrassment away. “Don’t worry about it. Greg, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Couple of reasons: On the type-A, gotta-get-out-and-play side, it’s been a while since I’ve done any field-work, my wife’s out of town with the kids, and I have a light load on my desk at the moment. On the more serious side, Roz’s killing is a big deal, and most of my guys are out right now trying to find out what’s going on. Maine’s filling up with prescription drugs, and we still don’t know how the product’s getting to market. I mean, yeah, there’re a few crooked docs and pharmacists out there, like everywhere else, and some pills getting diverted between point A and point B—whereverthose happen to be. Also, a lot of mules’re crossing the border, either body packing or squirreling stuff into spare tires and car cavities.
“In fact,” he interrupted himself with a broad smile, “we got one guy who was shooting pills across the St. Croix River in hollow aluminum arrows to a buddy on our side. Good thing he didn’t kill him—that would’ve made for an interesting autopsy.
“Anyhow,” he resumed, “none of that explains the quantities we’re seeing, which’re big and getting bigger.”
“Maybe the Hell’s Angels?” Joseph asked, referring to one of Canada’s largest reputed drug-handling organizations.
But Delaney made a face. “They don’t fool with prescriptions much, and the geography is off. They’re stronger above New Hampshire, Vermont, and points west.”
He stopped talking and reached for the glasses on the dash again. Joseph followed his scrutiny and saw another van, like the first, stopped at the checkpoint.
“I like this one,” Delaney said, binoculars still in place.
Joseph shifted slightly in his seat and rested his left hand on the steering wheel. “What’s your pleasure?”
“We follow him,” Delaney answered. “At least till I can get a team to relieve us. That’s why I asked for your unmarked car, so we don’t spook him.”
Keeping his lights off, Joseph started the engine. After another minute of observation, Delaney exchanged the binoculars for a cell phone. At the border booth, the van pulled away and began heading their way. As it passed by, Joseph saw a single, heavily bearded male atthe wheel, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Joseph waited a few seconds before unobtrusively swinging in behind.
Delaney held the phone up to his ear after speed dialing. “Cathy? Kevin. We picked him up … Uh-huh … Fort Kent … Hang on a sec.”
He looked out the windshield for a moment as the van ahead turned onto Pleasant Street and,
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