Chapter 17 #2
“I do, today, while Petra was at work, I went through everything. I catalogued it all, took photos, but this is where I’m going to need your help.”
“How?” Both senior agents demanded at the same time.
Instead of answering, Paul picked up his laptop and took it over to the bench with the drugs and money laid out. “Can you see this?”
“Yes,” they answered. “Shit you’re talking potential resale of narcotics if those smaller packages mean what I think they do.”
“Yeah, that’s what Petra and I thought. However, I refuse to send them to you. There is no way I’m going to send drugs through the mail, or any other shipping method. Here’s where you guys will come in.”
“How?” Flynn demanded. As he went back to sit down, he looked at Petra and nodded.
“I did some research before I came here with Paul,” she began.
“There is an ATF office down in Des Moines. It’s almost two, possibly three hours away.
However, in my research I’ve learned that the DEA office there has shut down.
We have no way to test what kind of drugs these are, or if they’ve been stepped on.
Without that information, we can’t issue a warrant or even press charges.
Right now, from a layman’s point of view, there are one hundred and sixty-seven packages of baby powder sitting on that bench.
We both know that’s not the case. We’re asking that you either come here yourself to see this stuff in person, or you reach out to someone in the Des Moines office to come here. ”
“If you do that,” Paul said firmly. “Then you need to tell them that they don’t run the show.
They can’t come in here and throw their weight around.
If you know what I mean. Based on what happened yesterday, I earned respect from three presidents of the local clubs notorious for being one percenters. ”
“So, you’re saying you have an in with them?”
“I do, again, this endeavor is a marathon not a sprint. I’m only reaching out to you because with the drugs and money I showed you, there was a notebook full of some very interesting information.
That will not go to any agent you send our way.
I will be keeping that for research and follow up.
” His fingers flew over the keyboard, but paused when Kessler spoke.
“Why?”
“There are some names, dates, locations, and other information in this notebook that I need to follow up on. I’m not trying to be a bastard here, but if I keep this to myself, then I can contact you with what I have. I only ask that you up my level of clearance to gain more information.”
“Before we agree to do that, give us something to prove you’re going to need it.”
Paul looked at Petra and when she seemed worried, he settled back into his chair with a heavy sigh. “Okay, remember when I sent you the information about the brother and sister that we befriended?”
“Yes, Sally Ward, owns and operates the local diner. Petra works for her and has been able to gather information from the locals. Her brother Warren Mott, is a semi-retired state trooper, and he owns and operates a local bar. You go there to see the locals. Excellent set up if you ask me.”
“Thank you, anyway, you might not know this, I only learned of it a few days ago, but Warren is semi-retired because he refuses to leave the task force formed to take out some of these one percenters. He told me recently that he believes someone is giving these guys a heads up that an arrest is coming.”
“Shit, does he have any suspects?”
“No.” Paul paused and reached for Petra’s hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze as he looked back at the computer. “Petra doesn’t know what I’m about to tell you. I only learned of it after I talked to you earlier, Kessler. This is all fresh information.”
“Okay, what do you have.”
“Remember I told you earlier that I took that guy out using my chain? I sent you the video.” He paused as Flynn grabbed his laptop, accessed the e-mail, and they both watched it. Paul grinned when they jerked and winced at the same time.
“Was he still alive when you left?”
“Yes, he had a pulse, no broken skin on the back of his head, but he was still unconscious. I got a call from Ted, no last name yet, he’s the President of the Iron Men.”
“Why would he reach out to you?”
“Okay, the guy I took out?”
“Yeah?”
“His name is Eddie Brickman. That’s E-D-D-I-E B-R-I-C-K-M-A-N.
When Warren rifled through his pockets for the key to the lock on the chain holding Paula to the tree, he happened to lift his wallet.
He gave it to me, knowing I’m a Federal agent, and he didn’t want anyone at his work to know he was researching Brickman.
Anyway, at the event, Ted told me that he hated Brickman. He’s what you would call a wannabe.”
“What’s that?” Flynn asked.
“He wants to be a member of several motorcycle clubs, but he doesn’t follow the rules. This guy, Brickman, thinks he’s above the rules and regulations to become a member of a club. I know you guys don’t know everything, but it takes a lot to join a club. Remember the Steel Men back home?”
“Yes, what about them?”
“When I went home after the arrests of the Devil’s Scorpions, I asked them how to start my own club. They told me the process of joining. Thankfully, when I have more agents joining me, we can elect officers and don’t have to go through the process.”
“What’s the process?”
“According to Colt Matthews and Hogan Meyers, a person, usually a guy, shows interest in the club. They start out by being a wannabe, because they want to be a member. They start hanging around, those people are labeled as hang arounds, for a good six months to a year.”
“Why?”
“To prove they are in it for the brotherhood, and not the drugs, sex, guns, or whatever the one percenters are into. Hanging around for several months or years proves to the patch holders that these guys can be trusted,” Petra answered the question.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, the next step up is to actually strike for the club. That’s where you get the bottom rocker that states the location of the club, along with the MC patch.
They wear the bottom rocker for a good year.
However, they can’t strike if none of the patch holders don’t sponsor them.
No sponsor, no striking. It’s that simple.
Once they receive the bottom rocker to strike, then the patch holder that sponsors them is responsible for them.
If the striker fucks up, it’s on the patch holder’s head. Again, no sponsor, no striking.”
“To prove themselves?”
“Yes, if you pass every patch holders vote, you are issued the top rocker that states the name of the club. From there, it’s another year to continue to prove yourself to earn a vote from everyone to be given the center patch.” Paul concluded.
“Don’t forget,” Petra said as she leaned forward.
“Pardon my language, but during the two years it takes to be fully patched into a club, the striker is every center patched members bitch. Meaning they do the grunt work. I saw Zeke tell one of the strikers to clean the dust off his tires with his tongue. The only thing provided was a case of water.”
“Damn, and did the guy do it?”
“Yes,” Petra and Paul answered.
“Now that you know a little history of what a club is like to join,” Paul began.
“Wait, did either of you have to do anything like that to join Devil’s Scorpions? Should we be worried about our other agents out in the field?”
“No, and no. Because you had my handler come to me and show me the tattoos I needed to get to prove I had done wrong in my past, I didn’t go through the wannabe, or hang around phase.
It only took me nine months to be a fully patched member.
The handlers and the tattoos help us maintain our covers. ”
“Thank god for small favors,” Flynn said. “What did Ted tell you?”
“Oh, sorry to go off on a tangent, but at the event, he said that Eddie was a pain in his ass and he would never, not in a million years, ever be asked to join his club. He stated this in front of two other presidents of their own clubs, and they agreed that he would never join their clubs either. I didn’t want to press, you know, I didn’t want to ask too many questions, I’ll save them for a later date, but basically they all agreed that Eddie doesn’t follow directions and they also openly admitted that they deal drugs, pills, powder, and guns. They refuse to pedal flesh.”
“Got it,” Kessler said. “What was in that notebook?”
“As much as my clearance allowed me to check,” Paul said with a sigh. “There’s a name in here that keeps popping up. I ran it.” He looked into the computer camera and shook his head. “The name is Fred Dawson. However, it gets worse.”
“How?”
“The Dawson that I keep seeing in my research is a high ranking officer in the Iowa State Police department.”
“Shit, I know you’re not saying this, but you’re thinking this might be why Warren Mott thinks the one percenters are being warned ahead of time?”
“Yes, it looks that way.”
“What’s the connection between Dawson and Brickman?”
“Again, my clearance only allowed me to go so far. It’s convoluted.”
“Take us on the trail.”
“Okay, I’m going to have Petra hold the laptop. I’ve written it down so I could follow the trail. Again, it’s confusing, but once the dots are connected, it makes sense.”
“Wait,” Kessler called out. “Give us five minutes. I have to hit the head, then we can continue.”
“Okay, I’ll explain it to Petra while you’re gone. Do you want to hang up?”
“No, we’ll be back.” They disappeared and they left the computer on the desk to walk over to the board Paul had tossed a sheet over earlier, stepping back so Petra could read what he had written.