Millennial Gangsters by Aaron McClelland

Author:Aaron McClelland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Organized crime
Publisher: Aaron D McClelland
Published: 2021-05-09T00:00:00+00:00

chapter twenty-four

“Knowledge in itself is not power. The wise application of knowledge is where the power lies.”

~ Gil Grierson; “Renaissance in the New Millennium”



Cheech was smart to have two cars tailing Sergey Lebedev so they could take turns being the lead; one could keep going straight if the target car turned while the other travelling half a block behind could make the turn and catch up to take the lead while the first car circled around and fell in behind. If the target car pulled over suddenly or did a loop through a parking lot or gas station to clear a suspected tail, the lead car could drive right past like they were just a civilian, and the trailing car could pull over and pick the target back up when it moved again.

Cheech casually pulled out of our lot and turned south on North Road. We ended up two blocks behind Lebedev’s Caddy – I could see it occasionally through the range finder.

“Fresh wheels every day?” I asked Cheech.

“Of course.” Cheech said, “Not only that, but we keep a couple extra cars parked near locations this guy visits almost every day, so we can switch out mid day.”

“Where are you getting them?” I asked.

“They’re hot.” he said, “We throw some coin at a couple street gangs who boost them for us every night along with some plates they grab off other cars.”

This was smart. Stolen cars get reported fast, but stolen plates aren’t sometimes noticed right away, sometimes for weeks, because the kids would replace the plates they stole with the ones off the cars they boosted. Once in awhile a cop would see a car that matched a reported stolen, but see that the plate number was different. Most cops had bigger fish to fry and don’t go to that much effort, but the odd one would run the hot plate and it would come back registered to another vehicle so he’d try to pull the car over. Most of our guys had the skills to outrun a patrol car and ditch the hot car quickly before the cop dispatcher got them hemmed in.

“What do we know?” I asked.

“... straight to Columbia ...” came the voice of the lead driver, meaning Lebedev was heading into New Westminster.

“We’ve counted about thirty guys who look like they’re part of his crew.” Cheech said, “Looks like they have three main locations, a nightclub on Columbia, a place down in a shitty warehouse complex off South East Marine, and a house they hang out at up a steep dirt road off Barnett Highway just past Port Moody.”

“Can you nail down which warehouse?” I asked.

“Difficult. It’s a dump so there’s not a lot of traffic making it impossible to blend in, and there’s only one road in and out.”

“How about the house off Barnett?” I asked.

“Same thing; difficult. The house is mostly hidden behind the trees and again; one steep driveway.” Cheech said.

These guys were smart – it was no wonder that Paul felt he was up shit creek.

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