Race

by Mobashar Qureshi

  Even in death Armand had screwed them, Ms. Zee thought.

  “I think I know a man who could solve that for us.”

  “Where is this man?” she asked.

  “I’ll find out where he is.”

  TWELVE

  I was still thinking about Nemdharry’s story when Garnett said, “Let’s go get some coffee.”

  I was looking forward to getting something to drink.

  “Not you,” Garnett said, stopping me. “Someone has to watch over the building.”

  I shrugged. Fine. I didn’t want their company anyways.

  “I’ll get you a cup,” Beadsworth said.

  They left.

  I was now alone.

  Across, I saw people enter and leave the building. I wanted desperately to walk over and knock at the door of this LLPM Company. What would I find? Mad scientists hunched over their instruments making Nex? Or maybe nothing. But whatever it was, it was inside that building.

  A black pickup truck entered from the side. I moved to the right trying to get the license plate of the vehicle. From this distance I couldn’t make out anything—not even a single number or letter. I should have brought my binoculars.

  I needed to get closer. Without thinking I began to cross the street. It was a busy road, where cars zoomed passed me.

  I looked up and the truck had disappeared around the back. It was now or never. I dashed across, narrowly missing the bumpers of several cars.

  I entered the side pathway and ran towards the back. As I was halfway the same pickup emerged from around the corner. I stopped instantly, and retreated.

  I could feel the pickup move closer. I didn’t look back; I just continued walking. The pickup stopped beside me and then the windows came down.

  A woman with dark sunglasses was sitting behind the wheel.

  “Can you tell me which way is Eglinton Avenue?” she said.

  She was lost!

  I sighed and gave her the directions.

  I went back to my car, soaking wet from perspiration.

  Not two minutes later Beadsworth, Nemdharry and Garnett came back. Beadsworth was holding my cup of coffee.

  “You’re sweating,” Beadsworth said handing me the cup.

  “I was just jogging,” I said. “I try to stay in shape.”

  Garnett and Nemdharry looked at each other.

  “We’re heading down to Headquarters,” Beadsworth said. “Constable Barnes and Detective Herrera will be joining you.”

  “Sure,” I said taking a sip of the hot coffee. Right now all I wanted was a cold glass of water.

  ***

  Eight minutes later a car drove up and parked in an empty spot. Herrera and Barnes came over.

  “Carlos Herrera,” said a short man with a blotchy face, but a genial smile. “I don’t think we were properly introduced.” He extended his hand. I took it. “You weren’t at our little lunch.”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged. “Jon Rupret. R before E.”

  “Michael Barnes,” said a good-looking white kid. He had curly hair and he was about my age. I shook his hand, too.

  “So where’s the action?” Herrera said.

  “Across the street.” I pointed to the building.

  “So what are we doing here?” he said.

  “We’re supposed to wait,” I replied.

  “Wait,” Barnes said. “Sure, we could do that. All we’ve been doing is waiting.”

  Herrera nodded.

  “So, what’re you guys working on?” I asked.

  Barnes said, “Sergeant Aldrich told us to search for Armand Dempiers.”

  “Who?” I said.

  Herrera answered, “He used to work for Bantam Pharmaceuticals at Danforth and Victoria Park. We went over there and they told us he was let go almost six months ago. They gave us his home address. We found the place empty. The property owner said he’d moved out months ago. Then we got a hold of his ex-wife. She said she hadn’t talked to him for over a month. The last time she’d spoken to him he sounded nervous but told her he was working on something big.”

  “Nex?” I said.

  “We think so; his ex was really upset. She said when the money from his severance ran out he stopped paying child support; that was two months ago. He promised he was going to pay everything in a lump sum. But she hasn’t heard from him.” Herrera glanced at the building and then said, “What did you guys find?”

  “We know what’s in Nex. It’s Ketamine,” I said.

  They both had a confused look over their faces.

  I then took the time to educate them about Ketamine. I ended by telling them the story—where, as a parking enforcement officer, I received a call that some guy was ready to jump off a building on Wellington. “Ketamine is a powerful hallucinogen,” I ended off.

  Both Herrera and Barnes looked amazed.

  I said, “We also met some DJ from the House of Jam.”

  “You mean, DJ Krash?” Barnes asked. “He’s the second—”

  “—Best DJ. Yes, I know,” I said.

  “Have you ever been to the House of Jam?” Barnes asked.

  I shook my head.

  “In my opinion, it is the best place to be in Toronto. But it’s so hard to get in. I would love to go again.”

  Herrera was feeling left out, so he said, “What’s the story over there?” He jerked his head in the direction of the building. “Detective Beadsworth never detailed me.”

  “We believe it’s possible that Nex is being produced in there,” I said.

  “Okay, Great.” Herrera rubbed his hands with pleasure. “Then let’s go.”

  “Um, I think we should wait,” I said scratching the back of my head. I didn’t like saying this but I might have to take command. “If we see anything suspicious then we go in, only after we get approval from Detective Garnett or Sergeant Aldrich.” I couldn’t believe it. I was sounding like Beadsworth.

  “Yes, of course,” Herrera said. He placed his hands in his pockets and squinted. “Something doesn’t make sense.”

  “What?” I said.

  “Wouldn’t you be suspicious if you saw three guys standing across the road looking at you?”

  I nodded. It would be suspicious, even though the road dividing us was very wide.

  “If you were making a product like Nex wouldn’t you have more safeguards?”

  “Probably,” I said.

  “Maybe,” Barnes said. “They’re trying not to be suspicious and that is why they have their lab in a place like this.”

  I was trying very hard to understand their point.

  “Maybe Nex is not being produced there but somewhere else.” Barnes moved his head in all directions. “Maybe it is being produced inside one of those stores.”

  What? That made absolutely no sense.

  “It could be inside that textile store,” he pointed. “Or that barber shop. Or that convenience store, or that pizza parlor or that bubble tea shop. Maybe we’re purposely being diverted.”

  “That was what I was thinking.” Herrera agreed.

  Okay.

  “I like your theory,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Why…don’t…you guys go and scope out the area. Find out what you can. I’ll watch the building.”

  ***

  “What?” said Martin, flabbergasted. “Nex is not going to be in tablet form?”

  “We’re not sure,” Ms. Zee answered.

  Martin took a deep breath and adjusted his tie. He laughed. “Ms. Zee, this is bad business. We have been marketing Nex in tablet form. We’ve even distributed samples.”

  “Yes and we need to get them back.”

  “All of them?”

  “Kong has already retrieved some, while others have guaranteed on their lives that the samples were destroyed. Only one left. Cal Murray has it.”

  “Isn’t that the owner of the House of Jam?”

  “Yes, Kong and I will pay him a visit tonight.”

  ***

  Alone again, I rubbed my temples. So
mething was bothering me but I couldn’t put my finger on what. I felt like I was supposed to remember something—a date, a number, something. Did I have some unfinished business? Was I supposed to meet someone? Think Jon. Think.

  There was enough money in the bank for the rent, so that wasn’t it. The car insurance was paid last week, so that wasn’t it either. Cable bill. Check. Telephone bill. Check. Returned old library materials. Check.

  I was supposed to go somewhere, but where?

  My cell phone rang.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Hello, big shot,” said the familiar voice. It was Roberta Collecci, from PEU. “Since your promotion you’ve forgotten about us,” she said.

  “Us?” I said. “Who is this?”

  She went silent. “Jon, it’s Roberta from Parking Enforcement.”

  “Roberta? I remember. One of those little people who give out tickets,” I said snobbishly.

  “Little people?” She snapped.

  I started to laugh.

  “Jon, I’m glad you haven’t changed. You’re still obnoxious.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So, how’s everything?”

  “I’m on a stake-out.” I lowered my voice. “The ultimate drug is being produced in the building across from me. I have my gun ready.” I began whispering. “Any moment when signaled I will run across and break the door down.”

  That didn’t affect her. “You’re standing around, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” I said like a child who’s just been told he’s fibbing. “So what’s up?”

  “I just called to see if you were still alive. No one at the drug squad gave you a hard time?

  “Nah, they knew I’m not the type of guy they could mess with.”

  “Sure, Jon,” she said. “Are you with the drug squad indefinitely?”

  “No. Just for another twenty years.”

  She didn’t laugh.

  Roberta missed me. I felt guilty. With everything happening around me I didn’t think twice about her.

  “You miss giving parking tickets?” she said.

  “Yeah, sometimes,” I said. “I did enjoy my daily routine.”

  “It’s not the same without you,” she said. “No one around to tell stories.”

  “Hey,” I said in a defensive tone. “Those things actually happened to me.”

  “What about the time you said you saw ghosts outside your window.”

  “That was true. They wanted to borrow money.”

  “Why would they need money?”

  “Hey, I don’t know. These modern ghosts don’t care about scaring people any more. All they want is someone to spot them a twenty.”

  “What about the time you said you scored fifty-two points in a basketball game.”

  “Is that what you heard? Let me clarify. I said my team scored fifty-two points. I didn’t even get to touch the ball.”

  She didn’t laugh but I knew she was smiling.

  “Roberta, something is bothering me and I don’t know what it is. Am I supposed to do something soon?”

  There was silence. “Yes, but I’m not going to tell you. We had a deal you were not going to depend on me.”

  “But this is seriously bothering me. This could jeopardize my new position.”

  “No way.”

  “Just this once.”

  “Nope.”

  “Is it someone I know?”

  “Not saying a single word.”

  “Is it a date I’m supposed to remember?”

  “Not going to get pressured.”

  “Yes, I’ve got it,” I said in a fake British accent. “It’s our meeting anniversary.”

  “Meeting anniversary? What is that?”

  “It’s when we met the first time.”

  “Get help, Jon. You’re hopeless.”

  “Yes, and you know it and you still persist in behaving like this.”

  “Jon, I just called to see how you were doing. Not to get badgered about things you can’t remember.”

  Herrera and Barnes strolled toward me in the distance. “Roberta, can I call you later? I’ve got to go.”

  “You take care of yourself.”

  “Will do.”

  “Anything?” I said, hanging up.

  “Nothing out of the ordinary,” replied Herrera. “The owner of one of the convenience stores said that in this area stores come and go. One week you see a new restaurant and four weeks later that same restaurant will be out of business.”

  There was silence.

  “Anything happen while we were investigating?” Barnes said.

  I shook my head. “Nothing unusual.”

  Silence again.

  “You’re ringing, dude,” I heard Barnes say.

  “What?” I said.

  “Your cell phone is ringing.”

  I pulled out my cell and said, “Hello.”

  It was Beadsworth. “Leave Herrera and Barnes and meet me at the House of Jam. You know where it is?”

  “Sure I do.”

  “Good.” He hung up.

  I turned to Barnes, “Where is the House of Jam, anyways?”

  “On Queen Street West, near Simcoe Street,” he answered. “Why?”

  “I have to go there.”

  “We keep an eye out?” asked Herrera.

  “Yeah, I guess until you hear from Garnett or Aldrich.”

  THIRTEEN

  I drove along Queen Street West searching desperately for the House of Jam. I asked several passers-by if they knew where it was but they shook their heads. Most of them were middle-aged, so I guessed they were not into that stuff. A young kid, wearing the Canadian flag as a bandana, told me it was around the corner, but he said it had no signs or markings in front of it. Great, that was going to help me a great deal.

  I parked at the corner of Queen and Simcoe with the full view of the street. From here I was hoping to see Beadsworth.

  I’m not much of a club hopper. In fact, this was my first time being inside a club. My mother never allowed me to get involved in music. She considered music the path to lawlessness. She couldn’t stand those who drove around blaring loud music from their speakers.

  I waited for Beadsworth’s station wagon. The GM swerved around and parked a few cars away.

  “Why are we here?” I asked.

  “Cal Murray is willing to meet us,” Beadsworth said. “He’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Where is this House of Jam?” I asked, looking around.

  “You’re standing in front of it,” he replied.

  I turned to a heavy black door. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I moved back to get a full view of the place. The building, from the outside, looked like an abandoned storehouse. There was graffiti sprayed everywhere.

  A few minutes later a man appeared at the door. He had gray hair and he was sporting a goatee. He smiled and extended his hand, “I’m Cal Murray.”

  We shook hands and introduced ourselves. “Come,” he said.

  We went past the door and up a long flight of stairs. “We have four entrances and exits to the building,” Cal started. “Plus, two more exits just in case of emergencies.” We were now in a narrow hall. “This is one of the emergency exits. But it leads straight to my office and it’s away from the public.” He unlocked a door and motioned us to enter. Opposite this door was another door.

  The office was small, confined. The only objects inside were a brown leather sofa with a desk and chair opposite it. Behind the desk and chair the wall was covered with photographs of Cal with celebrities and other important people. Most of them I didn’t recognize. A fourteen-inch television was perched on a platform higher up.

  Cal sat behind the desk. Beadsworth sat upright on the sofa while I sprawled.

  “Max told me why you wanted to meet me,” Cal said. His face was serious. “First, we don’t do drugs. We don’t deal in that shit. We clear on that?”

  “Of course,” replied Beadsworth.

  “Sure,” I said, r
elaxed on the sofa. All my tensions were draining out. I moved my hand over the hand rest. The leather was soft and smooth. I was ready to go to sleep.

  “These people came to me a while back,” continued Cal. “They said they have the next best thing and that if I let them open shop they’ll give me a cut.”

  “They told you about Nex?” asked Beadsworth.

  “What’s Nex?” he replied.

  “The drug. It’s the name.”

  “I don’t know,” he waved his hands. “They might call it that now. Names come and go. All I said to them was no thank you.”

  My eyes were closing.

  “But they came back?” Beadsworth said.

  Cal looked down at the desk, “Yes. They are very persuasive. They keep coming back. You know, it took me three years to get this club on the map.” Through my bleary eyes I could tell Cal was now into promotional mode. “We get the latest bands launching their CDs. We have parties for film premiers. We even host fundraisers for the Hospital for Sick Children. If you’re in Toronto, this is the place to be.”

  “Do they keep coming back because they think you’re interested?” inquired Beadsworth. I knew Beadsworth was onto something, but in my state of happiness I didn’t care.

  “Yeah, a little,” I heard Cal say. “You have to understand. Drugs are hard to control. Ecstasy is everywhere. Deals take place behind your back. At least with this new product I could have some control over it. So, yeah, I thought about it. If I knew who was selling and who was buying I could maybe keep it away from the most vulnerable.”

  “Children?” Beadsworth said.

  From half open eyelids I saw Cal nod.

  “What do they look like?” Beadsworth asked.

  Cal thought about it, “Their leader is a woman. She has…”

  I think maybe I was snoring. Maybe four or five minutes had passed when Beadsworth nudged me and I sat up straight. “Tell us more,” I said, crossing my leg.

  Cal continued. “Then, finally, I guess there is this big Asian guy. Mean looking.” Beadsworth was making notes on a small pad.

  Beadsworth said, “His name?”

  “I hear them call him Kong.”

  “When did they bring you the samples?”