Heavy Traffic

Heavy Traffic

Published by Ken Merkley at Smashwords

Copyright 2011 Ken Merkley

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author welcomes any information enabling him to rectify any references or credit in subsequent editions.

Acknowledgments

I wish to thank my editor, Valerie Harlton, for providing her time and expertise in order to make this book a reality. As always, her valuable suggestions and careful attention to detail has made my job as author so much easier. I would also like to thank RCMP Staff Sergeant Terry Miles, Major Crimes Unit, for his advice on RCMP organization and operations in the Vancouver Island District. The proof reading services of Mike Bannon and Colin MacCallum are also greatly appreciated. Finally, I especially wish to thank my wife Bernadette, as I greatly treasured her patience and encouragement during the novel’s lengthy gestation period.

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Epilogue

Prologue

Roberto Gutierrez was pleased with himself. Carl Worthy, skipper of the Southern Shark, was quick to agree that he should take Roberto on as a crew member. Of course it helped that Worthy didn’t have a whole lot of choice. Carl had lost three of his crew members in Caracas after they found out that it wasn’t just fishing that he was up to. That only left four of them, which wasn’t enough for all the work that needed to be done. And Roberto was exactly what Worthy needed, an experienced seaman with the papers to prove it, as well as supposedly possessing a self-proclaimed ability to keep his mouth shut. As a result, the Argentinean negotiated a hell of a deal for himself, ten percent of the proceeds from the drug sale and half of whatever they received from the sale of any fish they brought back to Canada.

Roberto had been hanging around the docks in La Guaira, Venezuela, for more than two months and he was getting exceedingly restless. It was still a reasonably pleasant town in late March, but the good weather would soon be ending and the rain and humidity would begin to increase. Nevertheless, it was a good place to lie low for a while and he was at least able to make spending money crewing on the fishing boats that promised gullible northern vacationers blue marlins for their ornate trophy rooms. But, it was boring work and he found dealing with the loud and ignorant tourists almost more than he could bear. The other advantage of La Guaira was that it was only a few kilometres from Caracas and he could stay connected to his drug-running associates who operated a branch office for the Cali Cartel’s headquarters in Columbia.

Roberto grew up in Buenos Aires. His parents, while reasonably well off, had never given him much love and attention. They were way more interested in each other than they were with their only child, and Roberto became a restless soul who craved danger and excitement. As a result of his parent’s lack of supervision, he took to the streets early in life, hanging out with the wrong crowd, who readily accepted him when he demonstrated he was willing to do almost anything to gain their approval. Strong, quick and ruthless, he took on the most dangerous assignments, such as muscling out the would-be enforcers from rival gangs, or operating as point man on a drug heist.

By the time he was nineteen, he had already caught the attention of the Cali Cartel’s man in Buenos Aires and in no time he was contracted as a drug runner. Given the job of coordinating the loading and escorting of drug shipments between South American ports, he took his responsibilities seriously and became proficient in marine skills, gaining the respect of the ship’s captains with whom he sailed, as well as his fellow crew members. He also learned to be exceedingly diligent and thorough in carrying out his duties, as he learned that this too gained him added respect.

At the same time, though, his indifferent upbringing caused Roberto to never fully trust people around him and he became a loner who kept his distance from almost everyone. Also, he could never understand how his father could dote on his mother when she was so uninterested in her own child and as a result he never developed any positive feelings in his interactions with women. He generally held them in contempt and in private often treated them very cruelly. Generally however, his propensity for solitude was appreciated by the Cartel and he was soon entrusted with large valuable shipments where much discretion and secrecy were called for. As a result, he was usually a very busy guy, and by the time he was twenty-five was called upon to guard the more lucrative international shipments.

Now, however, Roberto found himself in the unusual situation of being between jobs after a run-in with the American Coast Guard on his last trip to San Diego. The boat he was on had been hauled over and they found a healthy supply of prime-grade Columbian cocaine on board. Roberto denied to the U.S. authorities that he was involved in the transport of the illegal cargo as he was hired simply to catch fish. Nevertheless, he had been charged and had served six months in a U. S. prison before being extradited back to his native Argentina. But there wasn’t a huge call in Buenos Aires for his specialized maritime skills and Roberto soon made his way to La Guaira where it was his hope that his Cali friends could find him another assignment. When they let him know that the Southern Shark would soon be in the neighbourhood and was looking for additional crew members he jumped at the chance. They had also taken the time to brief Roberto on what Carl Worthy was contracted to do for them and for the Mexicans.

Mind you, it had never been a huge secret to anyone who knew Carl that the Southern Shark was very likely intending to convey a load of prohibited drugs. Carl Worthy, while a superb mariner with an impressive ability to pilot ships in even the most remote locations of the globe, was known as a bit of a schemer, continually entering into bad agreements. He had a history of drug deals gone wrong, not to mention getting caught a number of times and having charges brought against him. In one case, he was sentenced to five years in prison after pleading guilty to cocaine conspiracy charges.

Then, a few years later, he made a deal with the RCMP’s E Division in Vancouver, where in exchange for police witness protection and a cool $1 million, Carl agreed to haul a drug shipment to Canada in a scheme to entrap a powerful Vancouver-based motorcycle gang in an importation racket with the Columbians. When a very conscientious Inspector found out about the arrangement and threatened to blow the whistle on the Superintendent who had arranged it, the Division’s Commanding Officer promptly squashed the whole deal. Carl had gone anyway, reluctant to confess to the ruthless drug dealers that he made a deal with the Mounties to sell them out. He hoped for the best, but not surprisingly, nearing his arrival into Canada, his ship was stopped and his healthy haul of cocaine was confiscated. He managed to beat the rap on that one when, for reasons they refused to disclose, the RCMP declined to lay charges. After that, for the next four years, even though they watched his movements carefully, Worthy had not been charged with anything.

During his interview with Worthy, Roberto asked a lot of questions. What, he asked in his heavily accented English, is the reason you got rid of your guys in Caracas?

They had this weird idea that a fisherman should only be interested in catchin’ fish, Roberto. I let them know that I wanted multi-talented guys who could keep a secret.

But you shared this secret when you hired them, no?

Nope. I kinda thought I could let them slowly learn what we had in mind. When they figured out what we really wanted and what sorta money we were talking about they would come around.

What do you mean slowly?

You know, carefully over time. First with the pick-up and transport of our main cargo and then how we planned to cover it with a large fish catch.

So what go wrong? Why they not like to do this?

Before I could get into it, they were already getting nervous. Sailing into the Caribbean and along the coast of South America a couple of my regular guys got a little jumpy when other boats were too close to us at night and they started watchin’ them with the night vision glasses. Then, one time, old Roger Paradis, my engineer, hauled out the machine-gun because he was sure some pirates, or something, were going to board us. Our new guys wanted to know what was going on, so I told them. I was highly pissed off when they said they was hired to fish and wanted no part of the deal. When we got to Caracas, I kicked them off and told them to keep their mouths shut.

Okay, so that’s when the Cali guys told me you were looking for a crew member? Roberto persisted.

Sure. I radioed the local boss, Raul de Silva, and let him know I needed at least one more guy and one we could trust.

What about these guys you let go? Maybe they tell others what happened? Maybe cops listen to them?

Not fuckin’ likely. Besides, once we get into the Pacific, it’s a big ocean. In the meantime, we sail well north of the coast and make one pick-up at night, here in the Caribbean. Then we do the same later, after we go through Panama.

What about when we get to where we go in Canada? They pick us up, no?

Course not. We stay well off shore and come in fast and late at night. There are a lotta ships out there and before they can react we unload the main cargo. There’ll be nothin’ left but a big load of fish. That’s where you come in Roberto.

Okay new boss, but it sounds a bit fishy.

The fishier the better, Roberto.

But even after four years the RCMP were still keeping an eye on Carl Worthy and now they were following his new voyage with great interest. While requests by the RCMP to use coast guard ships of American, Mexican and some South American nations to assist in tracking the Southern Shark were agreed to, it was not possible, for budget-restraint reasons, to maintain continuous surveillance. Nor were the authorities particularly concerned. They were confident that by the time she returned to Canadian waters, three months after departure, they would have amassed plenty of evidence to justify a search of the ship. In the meantime, surveillance was to remain covert and the Southern Shark was not to be harassed or boarded without clear evidence of criminal activity. The RCMP, as well as police forces of other Western nations, had been burned repeatedly in the past when law courts ruled that improper procedures and insufficient evidence resulted in invalid search warrants being granted.

Two nights after hiring Roberto Gutierrez, the Southern Shark reached its first rendezvous point, 500 kilometres north of Caracas, as Worthy had pre-arranged. At 2:30 a.m., a helicopter owned by the Cali Cartel swooped in low over the water, dropped four large bundles into the sea and quickly departed. Carl ordered a life raft over the side and two crew members started the small outboard motor, picked up its cargo and returned to the ship. The bundles were then carefully stored in a well-hidden aft compartment.

As a result, the Southern Shark sailed back through the Panama Canal a few days later without incident. She then dropped into a small harbour in Balboa, again without interference from police. It was here that Carl Worthy was able to make personal contact with a representative from the drug cartel for the first time.

Ah, amigo, everything is going as planned? asked Raul de Silva, after the introductions were completed. De Silva was a short, swarthy Columbian with a disconcerting habit of standing too close and looking one straight in the eye while talking. I see you have a new crew member. I am pleased that you selected Roberto. He is hard to take some times, but he is a good man.

We’ve reached an understanding, Raul, Carl replied carefully He seems to understand what we want him to do.

Perhaps in the future if you have a misunderstanding with your crew members, you will let us know right away. Nevertheless, I believe we can persuade them to remain discreet.

Perhaps, Carl replied, wondering what was meant by the future. He had determined that he was out of the drug-running business long ago. But when the Cali group contacted him, they convinced him to make just one more run. They arranged for him to purchase the Southern Shark, helped him to arrange for various hidden holds and compartments to be installed and helped him to win over some of his old crew members to make the journey. Unfortunately, there weren’t enough of them, so Carl found it necessary to hire the three east coasters with nothing but fishing experience. Then the Columbians even arranged the deal with the Mexicans that allowed Carl to carry a load of marijuana back to Canada, after they sailed through the Panama Canal.

Okay, Carl. Everything is prepared for you here and for your next pick-up. We have arranged for a secret compartment in the stern of the ship. It will be behind the one for the Mexican shipment, but it will be even harder to find and it will be welded shut. When you get to Canada, even if your Mounties catch you they won’t find the cocaine.

Don’t worry. They won’t catch us, Raul. After we dock, they will see we have a big load a tuna and will leave us alone.

Maybe the crew members you let go will say something before we can warn them off?

Naw. I warned them already and let them know what would happen if your guys caught up to them. As long as the welding job is done right, we’ll be okay. If they do inspect us they won’t look that hard and I’ll get my boat back soon enough. How long will this take, anyway?

Maybe a couple of weeks. Then you need to get to the next pick-up point which is way west of Mexico. There you will load the marijuana and the fish that will have been caught for you. You will take Roberto and one other man, a Mexican, Luis Morales, who will be assigned to go with you. You should be back in Canada by late April as we planned.

Okay, we can use this Mexican. Me and my boys can use the help with the catch.

Si, and if you do get stopped by the coast guard you can show them that you are able to catch the tuna in the first place. The Mexican guy will make it seem okay. Your load won’t be too big. We will only give you about twenty tons, enough to make it seem worthwhile, but even that small shipment requires a local guy who knows the waters near Mexico.

And you have made the arrangements to get Morales out again after we dock in Canada?

Of course, Carl. All has been arranged. You just need to be at the right places at the right times.

For many years the Medellin Cartel had controlled most of the international drug trade in the Americas, including distribution to the American eastern seaboard and to Europe. However, more recently, a second Columbian gang, the Cali Cartel, began to arrange significant sales, mainly cocaine, along the Pacific coast. Large shipments of drugs sailed north along the coast of South America, after being easily moved westward across the continent.

Also, the Cali group now cooperated very closely with Mexican gangs along the Pacific Coast of Mexico, particularly the Sinaloa Cartel. Working together, they became extremely powerful, but over time the Mexicans were gaining more and more control of the drug trade into North America and even into Europe through Mexico. Years earlier, the two cartels had also taken over the largest tuna operation in the Western hemisphere and tuna boats were now routinely used to cover cocaine, heroin and some marijuana shipments for North American cities along the west coast.

In fact, the earlier pick-up in the Caribbean was a bit of an anomaly. Surveillance in the region dropped off as the trade shifted west and the Columbians were only now returning to this theatre of operations, in order to retain some independence from their Mexican partners. Over time the once powerful Medellin Cartel became greatly weakened and the Cali Cartel was now in a position to test its authority in eastern Columbia. Carl Worthy and the Southern Shark were being used as guinea pigs in an attempt to determine just how much the level of surveillance had dropped off in the Caribbean, north of Columbia. As the exchange had been accomplished successfully, this was considered by the Cali Cartel as a very good sign; especially as they were prepared to sacrifice their shipment if the rendezvous hadn’t gone well.

The Mexican rendezvous took place, as scheduled, on an agreeably warm, crystal clear day in early April. The Southern Shark chugged slowly to the pick-up point, arriving as planned at 12 noon, just south of a desert island about 1100 kilometres off the Mexican coast, far beyond anti-drug radar coverage and coast guard patrols. The Mexican tuna boat was already in place and the Southern Shark came alongside and quickly tied up to it. Light winds made it easy to transfer the cargo, first the relatively low-grade Mexican marijuana and then the 20 tens of tuna. The marijuana was stored in the various holds and storage compartments installed earlier. Altogether, over 1,300 kilograms of marijuana were loaded, with an estimated street value of close to $7 million.

But Carl Worthy wasn’t very happy. He found dealing with the Cali Cartel and arranging for the cocaine pick-up much easier. After the loading was complete, he sat in the galley sharing a coffee with Eduardo Ortiz, the Sinaloa Cartel representative. He needed to make his concerns known, without disclosing that the Cali bunch ordered him not to make the cocaine shipment part of the arrangement known to the Mexicans.

I still don’t get it, Eduardo. Why are we carrying Mexican marijuana to Canada? It’s kinda like taking coal to Newcastle, if you know what I mean. We should have agreed to coke or heroin. Both are a lot more valuable than this stuff and take up a hell of a lot less room.

Come, come, Carl. You agreed to this deal with the Cali guys and your own gangs in Canada, not with us. The Columbians arranged the ship and the logistics and we supply the drugs and the fish. There is a good market for our marijuana.

Why should there be a market for this stuff anyway, when our own is so much better?

Maybe not better, just stronger. Many customers like the Mexican. Mellow yellow, okay? Besides, our stuff is grown outdoors by poor farmers. We can sell it way cheaper and still make lots of money. I’m sure you and your crew are not suffering too much from the deal you have made, no?

No, but it still seems like a hell of a lot more work. I also don’t like the condition of the fish. I was promised fresh tuna and this is definitely not fresh. We will have trouble keeping it from rotting before we can unload it. Roberto is very fuckin’ unhappy, as he has been told he will get half the proceeds of the catch.

Well, seeing as he didn’t have to catch it, he shouldn’t be too unhappy. Anyway, dealing with Roberto is your problem. As for the tuna, the fishing hasn’t been as good as normal and we gave you some that was caught earlier. If it does rot, the authorities in your country shouldn’t be too keen to inspect your catch. They will, probably clear you, pronto.

Maybe, but when they see the size of the load, they might wonder why we were wastin’ our time for such a small haul.

Of course you will tell them the Southern Shark is a pleasure craft and you only decided to go fishing well after you sailed on your long recreational journey?

Yeah, yeah. I made it clear when we left that the idea was to take the ship south and do some sight-seein’ along the way. But there is no reason the cops should wonder why we stopped to do some fishing. I have a valid commercial fishing licence. Besides, how come you know I registered the ship as a pleasure craft?

I too make sure that I am clear on all the details. Now I must return to my ship and let you get on your way. God speed, and let us hope the remainder of your journey goes quickly and is uneventful, especially when you get to port.

The remainder of the journey was far from uneventful. High seas and strong, gusty winds, together with dark, gloomy skies and almost constant rain made life miserable for the crew. They were forced to remain well off shore in an attempt to remain free from the rougher swells near the coast. This made the trip longer than expected and it was nearly May before the Southern Shark approached Canadian waters, due west of Southern Vancouver Island. In addition, the refrigerant cooling system was working sporadically at best and the odour from the load of tuna was becoming a bit hard to take.

There were advantages to the poor weather and well-off-shore positioning, of course. As the ship headed north it was nigh impossible for American coast guard vessels to track her and because of earlier lacklustre efforts by the Mexican navy and coast guard, the ship’s position had not been reported since she left that country’s national waters heading west, nearly a month earlier. As well, approaching the coast from a due-west position placed the Southern Shark in the Asian shipping lanes and made it difficult for the authorities to pick up her position as she approached the Canadian coast. Nevertheless, the RCMP hadn’t lost interest in Carl Worthy’s pleasure trip, and while they expected the ship to have shown up by now, the Canadian coast guard remained on the look-out for her return.

The night of April 28 was misty with a light drizzle. While the winds had abated, a pronounced swell was still present and the Southern Shark rolled continuously in the surging waves. As darkness approached and they neared the coast, the sound of the breakers pounding the shore was clearly evident. As they approached land, Worthy positioned the Southern Shark closely astern of a Chinese freighter. This would, he knew, display only one target to on-shore radar installations. The freighter was tracking fairly close to shore and Worthy decided it was likely heading into Victoria.

He followed the freighter until they were abreast of the Broken Islands. Here he made an abrupt turn to the left and scurried in behind one of the furthest off-shore isles, and slowly began his approach toward Placid Cove, scuttling from one small outcropping to the next. The visibility was poor and he ensured one member of the crew monitored the depth sounder while the remainder maintained a continuous look-out off the bow to keep the ship from going aground.

With the crew fully focused on their duties and the roar of the surf masking other noises, no one noticed as one of their members made his way to the stern. As the Southern Shark slipped behind the protection of one of the larger islands, he quickly brought out the two zodiacs he had prepared earlier, tied them together, and with the aid of a previously positioned pulley, lowered them and their cargo over the side. He then descended into the lead craft, cut loose from the Southern Shark, and with the aid of a paddle he surreptitiously drifted toward the shore and was soon masked from view. Within minutes his contact located him and together they transferred the goods into his speedboat and hustled off into the night.

The Southern Shark was free of the Broken Islands and entered Placid Cove at 2:30 a.m. Carl Worthy figured he would have about an hour or two to unload before the Department of Fisheries and Oceans officials would get their act together and make their way to the docks to inspect his catch. He was wrong. There, waiting on the dock, together with Fisheries and Oceans, were representatives of the RCMP and the Canadian Border Services Agency.

Welcome home, Carl, Sergeant Herb Smail grinned, as he strode toward the crew, still busy tying up to the dock. We’ve been expecting you. We also understand you have had a productive trip, although from the odour something smells a bit fishy.

Uh, hello Sergeant, Worthy managed to mumble. Our refrigerant system hasn’t been workin’ too well, but we hope to salvage at least some of our catch.

Well, I take it that’s not all you hoped to salvage. But we’re here to make sure you don’t. I have a warrant for your arrest. We will also be confiscating your boat and taking you and your crew to Vancouver for inspection and questioning. Round them up, men.

With that, the remaining police officers gathered up the crew and hustled them aboard the waiting helicopter. The Southern Shark was put under guard and the next morning was carefully searched.

It wasn’t until they were aboard the helicopter that Carl Worthy realized that one of his crew wasn’t with them. What in hell is going on here? Someone must have tipped these bastards off and where the fuck is Roberto? he whispered quietly to Roger, his engineer, sitting the closest to him?"

Christ if I know, Roger retorted. But now that you mention it, I don’t remember seeing Roberto since last night when we were following that Chinese freighter. Wasn’t he supposed to be on lookout with the rest of the crew?"

He was supposed to be. Ask the other guys if they have seen him. He couldn’t be hidin’ on the ship, could he?

Not likely, and even if he was, where could he go? They would just pick him up when they do the search.

A quick but quiet canvas of the other crew members confirmed that no one, including Luis, has seen Roberto since the previous evening.

In the days that followed, Fisheries and Oceans officials unloaded the rotting tuna and conducted an initial search, locating bales and bales of marijuana, but no cocaine. The RCMP followed up with a very thorough search of the ship, commencing with a visual inspection and audible tapping of inside walls. Then they drilled holes and conducted a stem to stern examination with cameras. Finally, they used jackhammers to take apart new looking concrete in an area beneath one of the holds in the stern. They were puzzled that while the top of this hidden compartment appeared to be welded shut, it could be easily opened by drawing the lid forward, lifting and then sliding it backward into the inside hollows of the ship. In the end, more marijuana was located in the various holds and compartments of the ship, but nothing else.

Word of the police findings on the ship eventually made it back to Carl Worthy in his police cell in Vancouver. When he heard about the easily-opened, supposedly sealed and welded compartment, the missing cocaine and finally, the absence of the zodiacs, he quickly determined what happened.

That fucking Roberto, he said to Roger. We have been set-up."

He was left to deal with the fact the police knew where and when he would be docking. Later he was pleasantly surprised when he learned the Crown was dropping the charges against him and his crew because of irregularities in the issuing of the search warrant. This was especially astonishing when he also learned that the police had kept him under surveillance for the past six months. His lawyer explained that the courts were sticklers for proper warrant procedures and they were very unforgiving when the Mounties couldn’t get it right, especially with six months to prepare. He decided one thing after his narrow escape from jail – he knew this would be his last drug smuggling adventure. You just didn’t know who you could trust.

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Chapter 1

Tim Murphy was restless. He seemed to be going in circles, mulling over the same old set of ragged, dog-eared and ancient files. Since he was seconded to this assignment with Major Crimes he had gotten nowhere and he was finding it totally frustrating. It wasn’t merely a cold case he was working on; it was fossilized and might just as well have come out of a crypt. Even many of the officers originally attached to the case were long since retired. But in light of recent successes in similar investigations in other parts of the province and across the border in Washington State, his superiors placed a new emphasis on reviewing information on Vancouver Island’s comparable prostitute murders.

The novelty of a new set of responsibilities that came with his promotion to Sergeant led to a period of relative contentment for Tim. He had had a chequered career and while he had agree to take on research assignments for which he discovered he had a propensity, it was mainly a way to keep himself from the action associated with more front line duties, such as the Drug Squad or the Organized Crime Unit, as these had led to difficulties for him in the past.

Tim enjoyed research work and in particular received a great sense of accomplishment whenever a detailed review of an old case opened up new leads for exploration. He and his two researchers, Constables Debby McGill and Roy Cooper worked well together. His Investigative Research Unit took on a wide variety of assignments, anything from an analysis of money-laundering trends to community policing techniques in other police jurisdictions. Also, it was appealing to him that travel was a big part of the job. The entire Island was his jurisdiction and he could frequently get out of the office.

Sure, he missed the excitement and unpredictability of undercover work that came with his earlier assignments with Homicide and the Drug Squad. But he didn’t miss the long hours and way too many evenings when he couldn’t be home with his wife, Gloria, particularly when she was on dialysis and could have used his company. He certainly didn’t miss Traffic Services. That job included much too much routine and entailed shift work that also robbed him of evenings at home.

It had also been satisfying to him to be temporarily assigned to the Integrated Major Crimes Unit, led by the dour and no-nonsense Staff Sergeant Gerry Foote. The unit was given the task of coordinating murders and suspicious missing persons across Vancouver Island and while some officers were assigned to it from the Victoria Police Department, as well as other island RCMP detachments, it maintained its headquarters in the District Office in Victoria, together with most of the unit’s complement of officers.

The District Office was just one of an odd collection of buildings that greeted one driving into the City from the Pat Bay Highway. Sandwiched between large retirement homes, small hotels and a hodgepodge of minor business enterprises, it mostly resembled a government office tower that someone built in the wrong part of town. Still, even that description wasn’t quite right. The bleak walls, vertical uprights and countless tiny inset windows resembling rifle slits, gave it the appearance of a fort. Murphy was never quite sure whether that was intended when the building design was originally commissioned.

The section of the building the Unit occupied on the third floor was generally divided into loosely arranged work stations with a private corner office for S/Sergeant Foote and separate offices for four Sergeants. Each of these offices opened onto one of four work stations, staffed by lower-ranking officers with specific duties related to major crimes investigations. Eighteen officers in total were assigned to the unit. Of these, six were seconded from the Victoria Police, including Tim’s old buddy, Constable Craig Ballard, and four came from the Westshore and Courtenay RCMP detachments.

Tim also had a separate office and the luxury of having no one within Major Crimes reporting directly to him. Nevertheless, the open work area and easy rapport of the unit’s officers made it