“Yes, by then our product will be everywhere. Are the machines in place for mass manufacturing?”
“They will be in a few days. All we need are the ingredients.”
“We’ll have that soon.” She was certain. It was a matter of finding and persuading the right person. She was also certain that she was the boss. She was the one who was financing this venture and she was the one who had found Armand.
“We’re here,” Hause said.
***
The Lincoln turned left into a narrow street inside Regent Park. There are twenty-five hundred units in Regent Park and all are social housing.
They parked and got out. A small group of children was playing games: skip-the-rope, hopscotch, marbles—kids games. They moved past the children, Martin in front, Ms. Zee in the middle, followed by Hause, who kept his eyes on the area like a bodyguard. They went inside a building.
On the second floor they knocked and a woman answered the door. She got out, locked her apartment, and took them down to the laundry room. The worn-out door was shut. She tapped twice and a skinny black man answered it, suspiciously eyeing the people behind the woman. He nodded. They were allowed to enter. The woman left.
One man was standing beside the washers. He wore an expensive fur coat.
“Marcus,” Ms. Zee said.
“I’ve been waiting,” the fur-coat-man responded.
“The laundry room,” she said. “How ingenious. Doesn’t anyone here wash their clothes?”
“Do you have it?” asked Marcus.
“Not yet,” she answered.
“Figures.”
“Why, because I’m a woman?”
“Hey, no. I never said that,” Marcus began to explain. “All I’m saying is that if I had to get it done, it would have been done by now.”
“It will be done.”
“You could…” he paused, dramatically scratching his chin.
“Give you the formula,” she said, knowing what he was about to say next.
“No. Sell me the formula. If this thing does what you say then I’ll buy it from you.”
“It’s still not complete,” she said. She knew these people. They never spoke straight.
“Yes, but it has potential.”
She listened and then said, “No.”
“You haven’t even heard my offer.”
“No.”
“If you hear me out I promise you’ll be interested.”
“No.”
“Then why don’t we talk about how we are going to do business together? Partner to partner.”
“We’re not partners, yet.”
“Yes, but you need me more than I need you,” he smiled. “I’m already well off with my current venture.” He meant selling drugs to the innocent children of Regent Park.
She said, “When the product is ready the demand will be too much for even your little venture.”
He tried to read her. If this product was going to be bigger than Ecstasy then he better play his cards well. “No matter,” he shook his head. “Let’s say fifty-fifty.”
“No.”
“That’s reasonable. Considering I’m putting blind faith into the product.”
“Seventy-thirty. Considering I’m paying the start-up costs.”
“All right. But negotiable in the future, of course.”
“Of course.” She didn’t really care for the future. If the product spread as it was expected to then she wouldn’t need him.
“Agreed. Once you provide me the goods I’ll have my boys get to work.”
***
When Ms. Zee was gone, Marcus smiled. Once he had the product he’d have some of his experts analyze it and make another brand—his brand, which would mean one-hundred percent profit for him. In the market of illegal goods there were no such things as patents.
***
I left the Central Field Command Headquarters and went to my car. I needed to get away. I needed to drive.
Behind the wheel I relaxed. This is what I’d done for the last year-and-a-half. Drive and give tickets.
I drove along Eglinton.
I was born in Nigeria, in Benin City. I was the only child, and as my mom told me, she was in labour for eighteen hours before I arrived.
We moved to Canada when I was only five. My mom worked dead-end jobs while my father went back to his studies. He soon became a lawyer. Life was good. But after he left us life became tough.
But my mom was tougher.
She and I moved to a nice neighborhood, where she became a grade-school teacher, and I went to some of the finest schools.
My childhood was strict. I was not allowed to get an earring like all my friends. I was not allowed to listen to rap music or anything with explicit lyrics. I was always told to behave. My childhood was firm, but I don’t blame my mom. After Father left us, she became extra protective of me, trying to shield me from everything. She said I was the only family she had, and she was right.
My mom always wanted me to grow up and get a job where I could wear a tie and people would respect me. She wanted me to be someplace safe. Instead, I joined the force. I’ve already spent a year-and-a half as a PEO and I don’t know how many years I’d spend as a narcotics officer before I could tell... my mind trailed off.
I should quit and do what my mom always wanted me to do. I could get used to wearing a tie. Quitting seemed right.
***
I picked up something to snack on and drove back to headquarters.
Inside the meeting room I found Garnett standing in the front. “Your forms,” he said.
“Not filling them out,” I said.
He looked at me as if I had just told him off.
“Why not?” he said.
“Personal reasons,” I said. I wasn’t going take his abuse. It no longer mattered what he thought. I was going to quit.
He wasn’t happy with my answer. But I wasn’t going to back down. He smirked, the kind of smirk that said You’ll be sorry.
I went back to my chair and sat down.
A few minutes later Sergeant Aldrich entered the room. Garnett whispered something to him and he turned to me. “Officer Rupert, can I have a word with you?”
We went out into the hall.
“I’ve just been made aware,” he started, “that you haven’t filled out your forms.”
“That’s right,” I said.
Aldrich’s features did not change even slightly. “Why is that?”
“I’m quitting.”
“Operation Anti-RACE, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“You do realize that if you quit you will not be allowed to go back to Parking Enforcement. I assure you of that.”
That was a threat. But I didn’t care.
“I’m quitting the force all together.”
I saw a slight jerk under his eyelid. For a brief second I had taken him off guard. But the next second he was calm and collected again. He raised one eyebrow.
“There isn’t anything I can do to change your mind?”
“No.”
He went silent for a minute and then I saw what looked like a smile. “What would you say if I told you after this operation I could put in a good word for you in the intelligence unit.”
Damn.
I’d always wanted to join that unit: Detective Jon Rupret, Intelligence. I liked the sound.
“You know I want to be part of that unit?” I said.
“Officer Rupert, it’s my job to know everything.”
I felt overwhelmed. There could be a possibility for me to achieve something. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a waste. Plus, I hadn’t seriously thought about what I was going to do next.
I looked at him hard.
“My recommendations are always approved,” he said as if he knew what I was thinking.
“Under one condition,” I said.
“Yes?”
“It’s Rupret. R before E.”
“Fine, Officer Rupret.”
&nb
sp; “Thank you, sir.”
I was beginning to like him. Maybe, after all this was done, we could go fishing together. First, I’d have had to learn how to fish.
“Good. You have precisely three minutes to fill those forms and hand them to Detective Garnett.”
No. I was wrong. I really didn’t like him.
I scribbled onto the forms and handed them to Garnett. Garnett gave me an I thought so smile.
Aldrich was back at the front. “Now that we have everyone on board. Your main objective: find where Nex is being produced. There is a clandestine laboratory producing this lethal drug. We need to find and destroy it. Constable Terries, Constable Barnes and Officer Rupret, you’ll be partnered with a senior member of the unit. They have been provided with leads and they will guide you.
“Constable Terries, you’ll be with Detective Nemdharry. Constable Barnes, your partner will be Detective Herrera. Officer Rupret, you will be with Detective Beadsworth.”
Great. Mr. Uptight.
I turned and looked at him. He didn’t look back. He was going over a file.
“You’re dismissed. Keep me posted.”
SEVEN
Everyone immediately stood up and began to leave the room. I got up and went over to my new partner.
“Hi, I’m Jon Rupret, R before E,” I said.
The man did not look up, nor did he respond. He continued going over the file. He was carefully going over each page. I looked around the room and it was empty.
I coughed, hoping to get his attention. I did not.
I looked at the file and on top of it was the name: Jonathon S. Rupret.
He was reading a file on me.
He closed the file, got up, and looked at me.
With an arm extended he said, “Detective Phillip Beadsworth.”
I shook his hand, “Officer Jon Rupret—”
“—R before the E. I heard you the first time,” he replied in an accent I still couldn’t figure out. It was a mixture of British and American.
“Follow me, Officer Rupret,” he said, leaving the room.
“You can call me Jon,” I said, following behind.
“I suppose you’d like to call me Phil,” he said and stopped.
“Yes,” I said. “Just to be informal, y’know.”
“Don’t. It’s Detective Beadsworth.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number. “Excuse me for a minute.” He went to the end of the hall and spoke for maybe two minutes. He came back and we moved to the elevators.
We went down.
“Where we going?” I asked.
“For a drive,” he said.
Outside we walked to a blue GM station wagon.
“We can take my car,” I said.
“When you drive we take your car.”
We eased out of the parking lot and into the main road. I scanned the interior of the GM. The dashboard was covered with little colorful stickers. I looked down; my feet were stepping on a Winnie-the-Pooh mat. I looked up and a Mickey Mouse figurine hung from the rear-view mirror. I casually looked back and my mouth fell open. There was a baby seat.
“So, you got kids?” I said, turning to him.
“Excellent observation, officer,” he said.
“How many?”
“Two.”
“Wow, two kids,” I said. “I have one myself.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, turning the GM left and into another street.
“How do you know that?” I said, offended.
“I read your file.”
“How come you get a file on me and I don’t on you?”
“You’re under me.”
I blew my top. “I’m not under you. I’m your partner.”
“You’re my responsibility.”
“I’m no one’s responsibility,” I said. “The last thing you want is to take responsibility for me. You could get into serious trouble for that. ”
“Thank you for the information,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
***
The Lincoln was moving one hundred kilometers per hour on Highway 401 when Martin’s phone rang.
“Yes,” he said. He pulled out a pad from his briefcase and began making notes. As he wrote, he laughed harder and harder.
“What’s so funny?” asked Ms. Zee.
He hung up. “The police are on to us.”
She wasn’t smiling.
“Your informant has told me that they’ve established a new unit to locate and stop us.”
“What was so funny about that?” she said.
“They call this new force Operation Anti-RACE.”
She didn’t understand.
“They call us RACE. Radical Association of Criminal Ethnicities.”
This made her laugh. “The police always need unusual acronyms to do their job.”
“But that’s not all. They’ve also made up a name for our product.”
“A name?”
“Yes. Nex.”
“Nex?”
“Yes, something to do with the stock market.” He laughed.
“Nex.” She thought about it. “I like it. Nex it is, then.”
***
I stared out the window. After a short while the station wagon began to slow down and I realized where we were.
“Regent Park?” I said, turning to him.
“You’ve never been here?” he said.
“Um…of course I’ve been here. Many times. I live here, man. This is my ’hood.” I lowered myself in my seat.
Regent Park is one of the poorest areas in the city and maybe in the province. Poverty equals crime and Regent Park is known for that. With narrow alleys and pathways leading in and out, it is designed for drug dealers. They consider it their territory. Shootings are common in this neighbourhood. What were we doing here?
Beadsworth circled and parked.
“Do you want to stay in the car?” he asked.
Stay out here? You nuts?
“I think it’ll probably be safer if I cover your back,” I said.
From the trunk, Beadsworth pulled out a plastic bag.
We walked up to a building. A group of teenagers looked across at us. This sent a shiver up my back. We went inside and up the stairs to the third floor.
Beadworth knocked on a door. The door slowly inched open and a black boy peered through.
“How are you, Theo?” Beadsworth said.
Right away Theo opened the door. Beadsworth handed him the plastic bag. We went in.
“Who is it?” came another voice farther way. A man in his early twenties, wearing a white undershirt, black pants and no shoes, appeared down the hall.
“Voshon, how are you doing?” Beadsworth said.
“Good,” replied Voshon, smiling. “Come in.”
We went down the hall and into the living room. There was a sofa in the middle, an old table to one side and an even older TV with knobs in the corner.
Theo came up behind me holding the empty plastic bag and a pair of Reebok shoes. His eyes were glowing.
“Voshon,” he said. “Can I wear ’em?”
“Yeah, sure,” replied his older brother. “But go watch the window.”
Theo quickly laced up the shoes and went to the window.
Voshon leaned closer. “Thanks, he’d been asking for a pair for a long time.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Beadsworth. “This is Officer Jon Rupret,” he introduced me. I shook Voshon’s hand.
“Can I get you anything?” Voshon asked.
“No,” replied Beadsworth, looking in my direction. “We ate on our way here.”
“Have a seat,” he said, dusting whatever dirt might be on the sofa.
We sat down. Voshon grabbed a chair opposite us.
“How’s college?” Beadsworth inquired.
“Good.”
“And work?”
“Good. I do most of my reading after I make my rounds.”
“Good,” said Beadsworth. He
paused and then spoke again, “Do you have any information for us.”
“There’s this is one guy you can talk to,” Voshon said. “I think his name is Max Vernon or Vernon Max but he goes by the name of DJ Krash, with a K.”
“Where can we find this Mr. Krash?” Beadsworth asked.
“He’s a DJ at the club House of Jam. He plays there on Fridays.”
I then remembered the picture Garnett had put up in the front. The three guys were standing outside a club—was it the House of Jam?
“So you think he might be involved in this?” I said.
“I didn’t say he was involved, only that he might have some information,” Voshon said.
“How do you know?” I said.
“I worked some night shifts there and I heard some stuff, you know.”
Beadsworth got up. “Thank you, Voshon. Anything you hear you let me know.”
“Sure.”
***
We walked down the stairs and were out again. Beadsworth looked up and waved. Theo waved back and disappeared from the window.
“What was he doing?” I asked.
“Watching.”
“Watching what?”
“The car.”
“Why?”
“So nobody vandalizes it.” He looked at me as if I were dumb and stupid.
I quietly got in the car.
When we were out of Regent Park I asked, “What’s the story with Voshon?”
“A year ago we caught him stealing groceries from a variety store,” Beadsworth said.
“Groceries?”
“Yes. He said his younger brother was hungry and he didn’t have any money. Voshon’s a good kid, just in a bad environment. So we acquired him a job as a security guard.”
“A thief becomes a security guard. That’s a first,” I said.
“The security firm is owned and run by a retired police officer. Most of the people who work for him are young offenders looking for a second chance.”
Race Page 5