Chapter 7: Bikers

Four Years Ago

Everest, Montana

According to Lieutenant Haskell and Deputy Randall, the mighty metropolis of Everest had developed a gang problem. Several months prior a biker gang had set up shop in an abandoned farmhouse just across the county line. Travis couldn’t quite figure what a biker gang was doing in Montana, but the law enforcement people didn’t seem capable of dealing with them. The Blue Jacks had developed a reputation for violence and drugs and had killed several of the other drug runners in the area.

That just didn’t sit well with Travis. The Everest County Sheriff’s Department might not have the ability to deal with the Blue Jacks, but he didn’t have any issues with taking a practical approach to gang violence. He smiled as he considered how he would have handled the problem just a few years ago. First, he would have conducted an intensive digital survey of the targets, finding names of the gang members and their families, examined bank records, emails, and phone histories. Only then would he have move against them. He no longer had that sort of access, but that really wasn’t a problem.

He just needed to do a little preparation.

“Coffee, Deputy?”

Deputy Will Collins looked up at the speaker. The Haffner Memorial Hospital in Everest didn’t really have a prison ward, and the county jail wasn’t set up to do more than first aid care. When a prisoner needed more than first aid, the standard plan was to transport them to the hospital along with a deputy or two. There was a small ward without windows where a prisoner could be secured, and which could be locked. The four Blue Jacks who had tried to roust the Rusty Nail were currently occupying the four beds in the secure ward, strapped down to the beds and handcuffed as well. It was late, so a deputy was stationed in the hallway; the deputy had found a padded armchair and dragged it down the hall and had it facing the locked door.

The man Deputy Collins saw was tall, blue-eyed, and blonde, with a trim beard and mustache. He was wearing scrubs and a white lab coat, with a stethoscope in one pocket, and was carrying a pair of paper cups holding coffee. He offered one to the deputy.

“Thanks. Anything to stay awake.”

“I know how you feel. The only thing that keeps me going on some of these late shifts is coffee. It’s not the greatest, but it’s hot.”

“Can’t be any worse than what we have down at the station. What’s up, Doc?”

The doctor nodded towards the door. “Night check on this bunch.”

“The nurse just was in there,” commented Collins.

“Yeah, she said she wanted somebody to doublecheck the asshole with the broken arms. She didn’t like his oxygen levels.”

Collins sipped at his coffee as he talked to the doctor, who didn’t seem to be in any hurry to deal with the Blue Jacks. He never noticed when his eyelids began to droop, and the doctor took the coffee cup from his hand. The doctor pushed him back until he was lying in the armchair, asleep. The doctor took the key to the secure ward off the deputy’s lap and went into the ward.

All four of the Blue Jacks were asleep, but Travis Scott didn’t need to speak to all of them. He only needed to talk to the leader, the biker with the two broken arms. He poured both coffees down the drain in the bathroom and then stuffed the paper cups in his pocket, after which he pulled on some rubber gloves he took from a box on a counter. He went to the leader’s bed and looked at the white board on the wall; the prisoner’s name was William Haverty. “Okay, Billy, time to wake up. Wakey, wakey!”

The prisoner stayed asleep until Travis took a tray and slammed it against his leg. Haverty woke up at that and yelled, “What the fuck is your problem? What do you want?”

“We need to talk, Billy. I have some questions for you.”

“Go fuck yourself, Doc!”

Travis shook his head. “I’m not a doctor, Billy.”

“Then go fuck yourself, pig! I know my rights!”

Travis nodded at that. “That’s fine. I’m not in law enforcement either, Billy. Now, you’re the leader of this little group, aren’t you?” Haverty didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes told Travis he was correct. “Okay, now that we’ve settled that, let’s have a little chat.”

“Fuck you!”

“So unhelpful, Billy.” Travis went over to the next bed, where a prisoner with his jaw immobilized had woken and was moving around and watching. Travis pulled out a syringe and quickly removed the safety cap, then inserted it into an IV hub near the prisoner’s arm.

“What the fuck are you doing?” asked Haverty. The other prisoner just began fighting at the Velcro restraints. Then he spasmed and jerked, a muted scream coming from his mouth. Haverty stared as his friend collapsed back into the bed and stopped breathing. “What the fuck did you just do?” he demanded.

“Potassium chloride is a very common mineral and is frequently added to sodium chloride to make a low sodium salt. What most people don’t know is that it is used as part of the lethal injection cocktail. At a high enough dosage, it shuts down the heart.” He pointed towards the body next to Haverty. “Like now.” He capped the empty syringe and put it back into his pocket.

“HELP! HELP! GET IN HERE! HELP!” The secured prisoner began screaming for assistance, but the secure ward was soundproofed and the only person who could have heard was the deputy sleeping in the hallway.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to quiet the prisoner. Travis stuffed a wad of tissues in Haverty’s mouth and said, “Billy, nobody can hear you or is coming in. Now, why don’t we have that little talk.” He pulled the tissues out of Haverty’s mouth.

“FUCK YOU! HELP!”

Travis sighed and stuffed the tissues back in the prisoner’s mouth. Then he looked around the room and went to the third prisoner. He was still asleep, so he continued on to the fourth prisoner. The fourth prisoner asked, “What the fuck do you want, man? Did you really kill Gonzo? What the fuck?” Travis didn’t say anything, but he pulled another syringe out and injected it into a drug hub. The result was the same as with Gonzo.

Travis pulled out a third syringe and walked back to Billy Haverty. “Now, Billy, are you ready to talk yet?” Haverty’s eyes were wide and he nodded silently. “That’s very good, Billy. Now, I’m going to remove the tissues from your mouth and we’re going to have a polite conversation. If you make any noise, I’ll be forced to use this syringe on you, and you don’t want me to do that, do you?” Billy shook his head. “That’s good, Billy.”

For the next twenty minutes Travis quizzed Haverty on the activities of the Blue Jacks and the location of their clubhouse. “Thank you very much, Billy. Now, I need to be going and you need to be going, too.” He pulled the syringe back out of his pocket.

“Hey, what the fuck! I told you what you needed to know!”

“Yes, you did, but you’re an evil person and need to die. Goodbye, Billy.” Haverty struggled but couldn’t prevent Travis from injecting him with the potassium chloride solution.

Travis repeated the process on the fourth prisoner, still unconscious, and put the syringes in the sharps box on the wall. He then left the secure ward. The deputy was still snoozing in the armchair. It had been less than an hour total, and the nurse wouldn’t be back for at least two more hours. Anybody who came by would simply see the deputy napping. Travis moved down the hall to a storage room and stripped off the lab coat and scrubs, putting them in an old gym bag. He also changed into a different pair of shoes. He had been wearing jeans and a dark hoodie under the medical gear. Travis left through a side exit and walked through the employee parking lot. He walked out of town to where he had parked his truck. After driving home, Travis removed the wig, false mustache, and false beard and threw it in the gym bag with the clothing. That ended up out in the field behind his back yard, soaked in kerosene, with a road flare ignited and tossed on top. Travis went into his house and took a shower. Then it was off to bed.

The next few days were hectic for the Everest Sheriff’s Department and the Haffner Memorial Hospital. The Montana State Patrol and the Montana Department of Justice came in and proceeded to tear apart the Everest County Sheriff’s Department. The deputy stationed outside the prison ward was tested for drugs and alcohol. Gamma hydroxybutyrate was found in his bloodstream, which was the only reason he wasn’t arrested, though he was put on administrative suspension pending disciplinary action. Privately he was told he was getting fired and he should start planning to either change careers or move far, far away. The Undersheriff wasn’t covered by a union contract and was summarily fired, moving Lieutenant Haskell up to Undersheriff.

Four dead prisoners under the protection of the Sheriff’s Department was like a bomb going off for news coverage. Reporters and TV broadcasters flooded into the small city, but very little information was discovered. Also flooding in were lawyers, some representing the deceased, some representing the accused, and others just looking for somebody to sue. Quite a few Blue Jacks roared through as well, complaining loudly but not going up against the State Police. They did make for great news coverage, which made it to network news by the end of the week. Still, four dead members of a biker gang didn’t arouse all that much sympathy, so as soon as practical the reporters took off for some place more interesting than Montana.

Only when the reporters and the State Patrol left Everest did Travis Scott decide to finish the job. A few of the Blue Jacks reappeared and Travis learned the next day that Hallinek’s Fine Jewelry had the front windows busted. It was obvious that the Blue Jacks had simply been waiting for the heat to drop before business went back to normal. It was time to take care of the Blue Jacks. The cops were hampered by two distinct problems. The Blue Jacks’ headquarters were on the other side of the county line and the local law enforcement agencies were prohibited from the kind of actions that would eliminate the Blue Jacks as a threat.