Race

by Mobashar Qureshi

  “We do and we need you to work on it.”

  “You’re not from Bantam, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Then what you want me to do is illegal?” Burrows scratched the growth of hair under his chin.

  “That’s right.”

  “No, thank you. I’ve got my own troubles”

  “Yes, we know. What do you say to ten thousand?”

  “Dollars?”

  “Yes. That would clear up your immediate troubles, no?”

  Burrows touched the heavy bandage above his eye. “You know?”

  “Of course. You do what we say and don’t ask any questions and we assist you in alleviating your troubles.”

  Burrows looked around the parking lot. It was empty. “Is this some kind of prank? Am I on some reality TV show?”

  “Not quite.”

  He eyed Martin hard. “You said I won’t have any more problems?”

  “None whatsoever, If you do as we say.”

  Burrows nodded. “Okay. I’m not doing anything anyways.”

  Martin gave a signal and a white Lincoln drove up with Hause at the wheel. Kong and Suraj emerged from the vehicle.

  “What about my car?” Burrows asked.

  “We’ll park it at your home.”

  Burrows reluctantly handed over the keys to Suraj who immediately went to work. “Mr. Burrows, get in. You’ve got a lot to do.”

  NINE

  Burrows sifted through the pile of paper—reading and glancing at the writing, scribbles and notations. Finally he said, “This is not what we were working on at Bantam.”

  Ms. Zee, sitting across and watching his every move, said, “The chemist took liberties and made some modifications. Some of the ingredients in our product are…not officially permitted.”

  “Who designed this?” he asked.

  “That is not important, only that the product is made.”

  “It can be made, but I need some time.”

  “A few days are all we can give.”

  “About my ten thousand…”

  “Consider your problem solved. Your debts are no more.”

  He nodded and went back to the notes. “It is supposed to cause relaxation and numbness. From what I can tell there were several variations of the painkiller made. But…” he paused. “Why so many variations when the first painkiller does take effect?”

  “It wasn’t effective enough,” Ms. Zee answered.

  “What results are you looking for?”

  “Overwhelming.”

  ***

  I convinced Beadsworth to take my car. Compared to his it was not in the best of shape, but it was my turn to drive, so I didn’t care.

  Beadsworth instructed me to drive to a condominium in the West end called Palace Pier. I had never heard of the place but it sounded pricey.

  Palace Pier looked like a five-star hotel. “Are you sure we’re at the right place?” I said, getting out of the car.

  “I believe so,” he said.

  “You sure he’s a DJ?” I said as we walked up to the main doors.

  Everything looked rich and elegant. The carpet I was walking on was worth more than all of my assets combined.

  As we moved to the elevators, the security guard eyed us suspiciously. He knew everyone at the building. He didn’t stop us and I think it had more to do with Beadsworth than me. Beadsworth was decked out in a fine suit while I was wearing what had smelled cleanest in the morning.

  We waited for the elevators. I was still admiring the luxuries of the place.

  “Drug money,” I whispered to Beadsworth.

  Beadsworth said nothing but I could tell he was suspicious too.

  We went up to the fourth floor and knocked on the addressed door.

  No answer.

  We knocked harder.

  No answer.

  I banged on the door with my fists. “Yo! Grilled fish delivery. Open up.”

  Beadsworth shot me a look, “Grilled fish?”

  “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I’m making it up.”

  “Hold on!” we heard a voice from behind the door.

  “See,” I said to Beadsworth.

  Two seconds later the door eased open.

  DJ Krash, or someone we thought was DJ Krash, was short and skinny, wearing a Nike t-shirt, shorts, and socks. He looked tired, as if someone had just interrupted his sleep.

  “I didn’t order any grilled fish,” he said, but before we could answer, he said, “Oh, you guys must be from the magazine. Am I late?”

  We both looked at each other.

  Seeing the confused look on our faces, he said, “You’re not from Lyrics & Beat for my interview?”

  Beadsworth flashed his badge and said, “No. Are you Max Vernon?”

  “Yeah. What’s this all about?” he said.

  “You’re not in any trouble, Mr. Vernon, at least, not yet. Can we come in?”

  “I guess so.”

  The condominium was spacious, to say the least. Lush carpet, fine leather sofa, a plasma high-definition TV; this place was loaded.

  Max Vernon didn’t offer us a seat, but we sat.

  “We just need some information on a group that we believe frequents the clubs you play in,” Beadsworth said.

  “I play in many clubs.”

  “The House of Jam, in particular.”

  He sat across from us and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry,” he said. “I was doing a gig last night. So what do you want to know exactly?”

  “Anything and everything.”

  “I might have heard something or nothing,” Vernon said. He was reading us to see what we were after.

  “Do you know who owns House of Jam?” Beadsworth asked.

  “Sure. My brother-in-law.”

  “His name?”

  Vernon paused. “We’re not into anything, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Maybe your brother-in-law is,” I said, seeing how defensive he was.

  “Hey, Cal has a family,” he snapped. Then he lowered his voice. “Listen, he’s got two beautiful children. He’s not into…into…”

  “Drugs,” I said.

  “Yeah.” Vernon looked away. Then he sighed and said, “Okay. Okay. Cal told me some people came by and they said they are working on this new drug that’s going to be the next big thing.”

  “Next big thing?” I asked.

  “Bigger than Ecstasy.”

  “What did they call this new thing?” Beadsworth said.

  “Cal didn’t mention a name. He said they wanted to open shop at House of Jam and they were willing to give him a twenty percent cut.”

  “Did Cal agree?” I said, testing him.

  “No, of course not,” he turned to me. “We don’t do drugs, man. We make enough money doing our own stuff.”

  “It’s hard to believe that someone would just throw away that kind of money?” Beadsworth said, trying to get more out of him.

  “Don’t believe me. I don’t care. But let me tell you, drugs are bad for business. You have no idea how much business we lose because of Ecstasy. The police always showing up at the club, parents afraid to send their kids there, fights breaking out, you name it—it happens because of drugs. It’s just not worth it.” He stood up. “All we want to do is make music and earn some money. That’s it.”

  Some money? I glanced around the condo.

  Beadsworth said, “Why didn’t Cal call the police?”

  “You know, I hate to say it, but drugs and music go hand-in-hand. You expect these types of things to be there. Cal is a smart guy. You don’t want a police cruiser parked in the front every time you open your doors, you know what I mean?”

  “Did Cal describe these people?”

  “Not really, but one of them scared the shit out of him.” He leaned over and whispered. “I’ll show you something.”

  He disappeared and then came back holding several clear plastic sandwich bags. He placed them on the coffee table. We leaned closer. Each contained differ
ent coloured tablets.

  “Those guys came down several times. They left these samples with Cal,” Vernon said.

  I picked one bag and examined the tablet. There was nothing unusual about it. No distinguishing marks, symbols, or signs on it. To me it looked like a prescription drug your pharmacist would give you.

  “The orange ones were the first sample they brought. The green second, and then the brown,” Vernon said.

  “When did they bring the brown one?” I said.

  “Last week. They said their drug was still in process.”

  “Why leave samples with your brother-in-law?” Beadsworth inquired.

  “They wanted to prove that they had a genuine product, I guess. They were refining it. I think they wanted it to be more addictive.”

  “Have you tried it?” I asked.

  “No way!” he spat. “You crazy? This stuff could be anything.”

  “Why do you have it?” I asked.

  “Cal didn’t want to keep it. What if he got raided or something? If the cops found it they’d shut down his business.”

  “Why didn’t you get rid of it?”

  “Cal wanted me to hold on to the stuff so that if he ever got in trouble I would give it to the cops.”

  “Have they given samples to owners of other clubs?” Beadsworth said.

  “Probably. But they keep coming back to the House of Jam.”

  “Why is that?” I said.

  He looked at me as if I had just crawled out of a hole. “You’ve never been to the House of Jam?”

  I shrugged no. I looked at Beadsworth, hoping he hadn’t either.

  “House of Jam is the hottest place in Toronto,” Vernon said. “Everyone goes there.”

  I didn’t. Should I tell him I don’t get out much?

  “Celebrities, athletes, business executives, everyone goes there, man. It’s the best place to build a diverse clientele.” Vernon leaned closer. “Drugs are part of the music biz. It’s the one place where people are more open to try new things.”

  “We’re going to take these samples,” Beadsworth said, not asking.

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

  “We would also like to visit the club,” Beadsworth said.

  “Hey, man, no cops,” he stood up. “We don’t want to be part of this.”

  “You’re already part of it,” Beadsworth said. I was amazed at how calm he always was. Is that a British thing?

  Vernon scratched his head and made a twisted face.

  “If this thing gets into the market, you better believe your business is going to suffer,” Beadsworth insisted.

  Vernon nodded. “Come down Friday night. I’m playing there,” he said. “You can meet Cal there also.”

  “What’s his full name?” Beadsworth asked.

  “Calvert Murray.”

  We got up to leave.

  “One more question,” I said. Beadsworth looked at me oddly. “How can you afford a place like this?” I asked.

  “You mean as a DJ?” Vernon replied.

  I nodded. “Nice place. Expensive, though.”

  “I’ll show you something,” he said and disappeared.

  Alone, Beadsworth said, “Why did you bring that up?”

  “Come on. You wanted to know, too,” I replied.

  Vernon came back holding an album. He placed it on the coffee table and began taking out newspaper articles. There were articles from different countries in different languages. “I’m the best DJ in Toronto and Canada for that matter,” Vernon beamed. “I’m also the second best DJ in the world.” He pulled out one article, which was in a language I couldn’t identify. “In the Frankfurt Hip Hop Festival I came in second. I think it was rigged. They wanted the Swedish guy to win from the beginning. His beats weren’t crisp enough, you know what I mean?”

  I nodded absentmindedly.

  “But those German fans were wild. I had a blast.”

  “Second best,” I said. “So you can make good money doing this?”

  “Yeah, sure. But you gotta first find a new beat. Your unique style, you know. Each time you gotta take it a step further, elevate the music so that no one can do it except you. Master it, you know what I mean?”

  I nodded. I had no idea what the man was talking.

  “There are so many freestyle competitions around the world where you can make serious money.”

  “Serious money.” I turned to Beadsworth. “That’s what I want to do. Make serious money.”

  “You into music?” Vernon asked. “What kind?”

  I stumbled. “Um, all kinds. You know, techno, jazz…opera.”

  “Diverse.” Vernon nodded to himself. “You could probably do it,” he said. “Just come up with a cool name. Experiment and find your own style, man. That’s all.”

  “Cool name, eh?” I said. I thought about it. “How about DJ Crimefighter,” I turned to Beadsworth and gave a thumbs up.

  “How about DJ Bigmouth,” he shot back.

  “Not bad,” Vernon said.

  “We have to go,” Beadsworth said. “Tell your brother-in-law we’ll meet him on Friday.”

  Back in the elevator, I said, “DJ Bigmouth? I can’t believe you would say that. I was serious.”

  “So was I,” he replied.

  TEN

  After dropping off the samples at the Toronto Drug Analysis Service Laboratory, or DAS, for short, we drove back to Scarborough where Nemdharry and Terries were observing the export company. We met a block away. Nemdharry was drinking coffee and Terries was in the unmarked cruiser. She stepped out once she saw us.

  “Anything?” Beadsworth asked.

  “The building contains eight units.” Nemdharry read from a small piece of paper. “Two dental offices, one used-parts wholesaler, two clothing wholesalers, our export company, and two vacancies. But the management said one unit might be leased by the end of the week.”

  “Doesn’t seem like the best place to start a clandestine laboratory,” Beadsworth said.

  “No, it doesn’t. In the morning a white U-Haul truck came and went around the back. It left forty-five minutes later.”

  “Do you know where?’

  “No idea. We’re timing the schedule. Hopefully, we’ll make out a pattern. What’s surprising is that when I was talking to the manager of the building, I happened to walk past that unit and there was no smell. No chemicals burning in the back.”

  “What does the front look like?” Beadsworth asked.

  Terries spoke, “It has nothing except for a sign that says LLPM Imports & Exports, and a receptionist. No chairs, and the back area is entirely sealed off.”

  “Then why have a receptionist?” I said.

  Terries answered, “I think it’s just to show they are a legitimate company. While I was there the receptionist didn’t get a single call.”

  Beadsworth wiped something off his coat and then said, “We believe we have a sample.”

  “Nex?” Terries said.

  “We’re not sure. It could be anything.”

  “What does it look like?” she asked.

  “Like Ecstasy.”

  “Shit,” Nemdharry said. “Where is it?”

  “We dropped it off at DAS. We’ll find what’s in it. I would like to talk to the owner of this coffee shop.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Nemdharry said.

  They left Terries and I at the car and walked down the street.

  We were alone.

  There was silence.

  I looked at my feet and she was looking away.

  I had to say something. “So you like the job?” I asked.

  “It’s not bad. A good learning experience,” she said, smiling.

  Silence again.

  “How about you?” she said.

  “Yes, good learning experience.” I found I couldn’t think of anything clever to say. My mind was frozen. I tried to stay cool, calm, and collected. I leaned on the car and looked across to the many shops lining the street.

  There
was a Laundromat, a drycleaners, and a convenience store at the corner. Beside the convenience store there were a couple of guys trying to place a sign above the window. The sign read: BUBBLE T SHOP.

  “Have you ever tried bubble tea?” I turned to Terries.

  “No, really.”

  “Neither have I. Maybe someday we could try it together.” I stopped. I couldn’t believe I had just said that. I looked away not wanting to hear what she was going to say next.

  She smiled. “Maybe some day.”

  I was relieved.

  Nemdharry and Beadsworth came back.

  It was a long, slow day.

  ***

  Next morning, we drove to DAS and inside found our analyst. She was a short round woman who wore black-rimmed glasses. She also wore the traditional long white coat. Her name was Eileen Mathers.

  “What is it?” asked Beadsworth.

  “I’m not sure,” she said. “Come with me.” She scanned a white card, the door beeped, and then we heard the sound of unlocking. She took us inside to the laboratory. There were many analysts wearing similar white coats, hovering over microscopes, looking through charts, staring at monitors, and examining liquids in test tubes.

  It reminded me of my grade-nine science class.

  “From the information you provided,” Eileen said. “It’s supposed to blow up inside the human body?”

  “Yes,” Beadsworth said.

  “Are you sure you don’t mean it dissolves in the body?”

  Beadsworth looked at me and I at him.

  “No. From what I’ve been briefed it is supposed to blow up.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible. Pills and tablets don’t blow up. They dissolve. Capsules do dissolve faster than tablets because their outer layer is made of soft gelatin shells.”

  “I think it is supposed to work instantly,” I said.

  “For it to take instant effect it is better if it were taken intravenously, or even inhaled or snorted. Tablets take time to break down. Come, I’ll show you something.”

  She took us to the corner where there were three glasses filled with liquid propped on top of a table. The glasses were labeled with yellow stickers. The first glass: Exhibit A—Orange, the second glass: Exhibit B—Green, and the third: Exhibit C—Brown.

  She pointed to the glasses. “These are the samples you submitted. I cut a small piece from each tablet and placed them in water at precisely the same time. Exhibit A was the earliest sample. Look closer.”