Race

by Mobashar Qureshi

  ***

  Martin’s shoulders sagged when the officer was out of the premises. He adjusted his tie. During the entire ordeal he had been sweating profusely. He felt wet and sticky.

  He barged to the back and confronted Kong, who was standing with his huge arms folded.

  “What are you doing here?” Martin snapped.

  Kong did not answer.

  “That was a police officer. We could have been shut down. For all we know there could be a surveillance van waiting outside recording our every move—recording you entering here.”

  There was no reaction. Kong stared back.

  Martin adjusted his tie once more and smoothed his coat. It was useless talking to him. If he wanted anything done he would have to talk to Ms. Zee.

  ***

  Beadsworth was sitting alone when I got into the passenger seat.

  “Done with your private conversation?” I said.

  He didn’t answer.

  “Come on,” I snapped. “I see what’s going on.”

  He turned to me. “What is going on?” he said.

  “Stuff…secret stuff. Stuff you don’t want me to know.”

  “Officer Rupret, let me just say, things were happening before you arrived. These things may continue to happen even after you leave.”

  “I have no idea what you just said.”

  “Precisely, and I prefer it be kept that way.”

  I was ready to say something when he said, “Constable Terries and Detective Nemdharry are in Niagara Falls.”

  “Niagara Falls?”

  “The U-Haul briefly stopped in Hamilton and moved onto Niagara Falls.”

  Something occurred to me. “Could Nex be made there,” I pointed to the building across. “And then distributed in Niagara Falls?”

  “Maybe.”

  Something else occurred to me. “From Niagara Falls it might then be passed through the border and into the States.”

  He thought about it and his face went grave.

  I was going to say more when another car drove up and parked right beside us.

  “We’re being relieved,” Beadsworth said.

  ***

  I entered my house and headed straight for my apartment. I was halfway up when the ground-floor door opened and my landlady popped her head out.

  “Jonny?” she said.

  “Yes,” I said, then realized I was supposed to have dinner with her. “Am I too late?”

  She had a gentle smile. She handed me a white container. “I left some mechado for you. I know you’re very busy.”

  I thanked her and went upstairs.

  I opened my door, walked down the hall, and placed the container in the microwave. I walked back and stopped, “Sorry, Mike. I missed you, too.” I’m proud to say that Michael Jordan never got angry with me.

  I pulled out Elizabeth Taylor’s Black Pearls and wrapped it in a flowered wrapping paper.

  I leaned back on the sofa with the container of mechado in my hand and began watching the fourth quarter of the basketball game.

  EIGHTEEN

  Early in the morning I showered, shaved and made breakfast. From the closet I pulled out a suit, pressed shirt, dry cleaned pants, a tie that had belonged to my father, and recently shined shoes. I dressed as if I was going to a high profile business meeting.

  With the package under my arm I waited outside. When Beadsworth’s GM pulled up I got in the passenger side.

  The car did not move. Beadsworth was staring at me.

  “Something wrong?” I said.

  He was wearing his three-piece brown suit, which was what I wanted for this occasion.

  He did not speak. He just kept staring.

  “What?” I said.

  “I’m sorry, did someone die?” he asked.

  “No, no. Is that what you think?”

  He shrugged slowly. “You don’t normally…dress.”

  “Today is my mom’s birthday,” I beamed. “You and I are going to meet her.”

  “Where?”

  “Guelph.”

  “I don’t think we are authorized to go there,” he said.

  “I know,” I said.

  “Sergeant Aldrich would not be too pleased…”

  “I don’t care. Listen, I am going to meet my mom. Either you come with me or I’m going there by myself, which means you won’t be able to watch over me.” I hoped the last part would get him.

  He thought about it. “All right.”

  ***

  Guelph is an hour’s drive from Toronto. Beadsworth did not say a word during the ride. Every so often he would flip an occasional glance in my direction. I don’t think he believed what he was seeing.

  He parked on the side of the street like I instructed.

  He was ready to get out when my hand stopped him. “Before we go in, there are a few things I would like to tell you.”

  He waited.

  I considered my words very carefully. “We were a very close family when I was young, very close…but…after my father left us…well…my mom became very protective.”

  Beadsworth nodded.

  “So.” I paused. “My mother is a little sensitive when it comes to law enforcement. So let’s not mention any of the…complications that are happening in our case.”

  He listened. “Yes, of course. The incident at the House of Jam.”

  “Um…yes. That incident. Definitely. In fact, let’s not talk about the police force in general.”

  He thought about it and then nodded.

  “Good,” I said.

  We got out and went up to an old brick house.

  I hid the package behind my back and pressed the doorbell. I was really excited to see my mother. I spoke to her occasionally but not as often as I used to.

  The door opened.

  ***

  My mother, whom I consider the most beautiful person in the world, was wearing a light green dress and an apron.

  “Jonny,” she said with a big smile.

  “Mom,” I said, and gave her a tight hug.

  “You look weak,” she said. “Have you been eating right? You look skinny as a cat.”

  Mothers, aren’t they great?

  I pulled out the package. “Happy birthday.”

  “Oh, I bet I’m going like it.”

  She was not going to open the present in front of me. She never did. But she always praised it. She always praised me.

  “Oh, who’s your friend?” she asked.

  “This is Phillip Beadsworth.”

  Beadsworth smiled. “How do you do?”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said. “Come in. Come in.”

  The house was the same as the day I left. The same furniture, same decorations, same carpet—a little cleaner, though.

  “Did you have it washed?” I said, pointing to it.

  “I got it shampooed.”

  “You got rid of that stain I made? You know, it took me a long time to get that on the carpet.”

  “Have a seat,” she said to Beadsworth. She then disappeared into the kitchen. I knew she would return with something to eat. Some people never change.

  “I’ll go help her,” I said.

  I found her behind the counter quickly arranging snacks on a plate. Aesthetics were very important to my mom. Biscuits must be arranged in a pleasing way; so should the croissants and the cake.

  “Mom,” I said. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do all this. It’s your birthday.”

  “You should have told me you were bringing a guest,” she said, arranging the plate. “Lucky I had these things to serve.”

  My mom’s the perfect host.

  “Now, take this outside,” she handed me the plate. “What does your friend like? Coffee or tea?”

  Beadsworth was kind of British, so I said, “Tea.”

  I took the plate and went to the living room.

  I placed the plate on the coffee table.

  I sat down near Beadsworth.

  “Have something,�
� I said, pointing to the plate.

  “No, thank you. I’m quite fine.”

  “No. Really. Have something. My mother would be insulted.”

  He immediately leaned over and picked a biscuit.

  My mother returned holding a tray with three cups.

  ***

  Once we had all sipped our tea, my mother leaned back and spoke, “What do you do, Mr. Beadsworth?”

  I interrupted. “He works with me.”

  “Oh, you’re also a broker?” she said, smiling.

  Beadsworth looked at me. I smiled back with pleading eyes. “Ah…yes,” he answered.

  “Are you married?” she asked.

  “Yes. I have two children.”

  “How wonderful. Children are a joy. We were only able to have one.”

  I turned to Beadsworth. That’s me.

  “But trouble equivalent to two,” she said.

  That’s definitely me.

  “How long have you worked with Jonny?” she asked.

  Beadsworth turned to me. “Just recently,” I said.

  “Forgive me for asking so many questions?” she said. “It’s not every day that Jonny brings a friend over. I think…this is probably the first time.”

  “First time for everything, Mom,” I said.

  Beadsworth took a slow sip.

  “Have they promoted you?” she said to me.

  “You could say that,” I answered. I didn’t want to tell her I had just moved from parking enforcement to drug and narcotics.

  “A promotion. Really?” she said with excitement.

  “Yes…but a lot of travel,” I said, feeling swamped with work.

  “You see, Mr. Beadsworth, Jonny won’t help in my investments. You would think working at Nesbitt Burns he would help his mother.”

  “Nesbitt Burns?” Beadsworth whispered.

  I beamed like a proud son. Yes. Nesbitt Burns.

  “Maybe you can talk some sense into him,” she continued. She turned to me, “You know everyone at work would love to have you look into their finances. They are always asking about you and all I can say is that Jonny is too busy.”

  “But Mom,” I protested. “Mr. Chiklist is doing a good job.”

  “Yes, but you could do a better job.”

  “Mr. Chiklist’s been watching over our finances since I was a kid. He helped us pay off this house.”

  “I have nothing against Mr. Chiklist. He’s wonderful. But when you have a son working in the industry—and working in a place like Toronto, you can’t help but think differently.”

  I was about to say something when the phone rang.

  “I’ll take it in the kitchen,” she said, “excuse me.”

  “Nesbitt Burns?” Beadsworth looked at me. “What do you know about Nesbitt Burns?”

  “Not much in the beginning. I thought they made cookies. Now I can differentiate between the bull and the bear market.”

  My mother returned. “It was an old friend congratulating me,” she sat back down.

  Beadsworth spoke, “May I use your washroom?”

  “Yes, of course, it’s on the second floor to the right.”

  ***

  When we were alone, I said, “Mom I won’t be staying long…” I let the words trail off. Every birthday, my mom and I, went out for dinner. But I didn’t think Aldrich would be too happy with us being in Guelph.

  “Why not?” she said softly.

  “We have to go…to…this meeting, you know, to meet new clients. That’s how we make money, by getting new investors.”

  “I understand,” she said. She paused. “I was hoping you wouldn’t come alone this time.”

  “See, I didn’t,” I said. “I brought a friend.”

  “No, it’s not that. I mean a lady friend.”

  “Come on, Mom. Let’s not start with that.”

  “Jonny, when am I going to see grandchildren? I’m getting old and I don’t know...”

  “Mom, please.”

  She leaned over and motherly rubbed my hand. “Find a nice girl and settle down. You already have a good job.”

  I scratched my head.

  “Jonny, you’re everything I’ve got.”

  “I know.”

  We heard Beadsworth footsteps coming down.

  I got up.

  “Happy birthday, Mom,” I whispered and hugged her.

  “We’ll be leaving,” I said to Beadsworth.

  “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Rupret,” Beadsworth said and headed for the door.

  In the hallway I stopped and said, “Mom, right now I’ve got a lot of things going on…I’m in a new position.” This was true. I was no longer a PEO.

  “I understand, Jonny,” she said.

  “I’m sorry that I can’t stay.”

  “Sorry for what?” she said cheering up. “This means I’m free to go see Tom Jones.”

  “What?” I piped. “You got tickets to Tom Jones?”

  “Yeah, Patty has two tickets.”

  “Patty McNicoll? She still teaching grade six?” Mrs. McNicoll was my teacher when I was in grade six.

  “No, she’s retired and at home. That’s why she got the two tickets, so we ladies can get out.”

  “You know what?” I said. “I’m not going back to Toronto. I don’t need the money.”

  “Is that right?” my mom said, putting her hands on her hips.

  “As the man of the house I demand I get Tom Jones tickets, too.”

  My mother laughed. She was the most beautiful woman in the world.

  She hugged and kissed me.

  ***

  When we were out of Guelph, Beadsworth spoke. I knew what he was going to say and I was ready.

  “Your mother doesn’t know you’re a police officer?” he asked.

  “Not exactly,” I answered. He waited for more. “My mother doesn’t feel law enforcement is a safe profession.”

  “She is correct.”

  “I just can’t get the courage to tell her.”

  “My apologies, it’s none of my business.”

  “I’m going to tell her. I’m definitely going to tell her. One day. Soon.” I was talking more to myself.

  NINETEEN

  The Lincoln jetted down the Gardiner at speeds well over one hundred kilometres an hour. Hause was behind the wheel.

  “Slow down,” Ms. Zee ordered from behind. This was no time to be pulled over.

  Ms. Zee had asked Martin to accompany them. He had been acting different these days. She didn’t need her business advisor getting any ideas. She was going to pay close attention to him. That was why she had sent Kong to pay him a visit at the BUBBLE T SHOP. The close encounter with the black officer had made Martin even more…difficult. He was constantly asking about Nex, suggesting, not in exact words, that they pull out of the operation.

  They drove to an address near Bathurst and Dupont Streets and parked in front of a semi-detached house.

  “Your friend lives here?” Martin asked.

  Burrows didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to get out of the car.

  “Hause, stay here,” Ms. Zee ordered. “Keep your eyes open.”

  Burrows led the way from the side of the house to the back. They passed through a gate and went to the basement.

  Burrows knocked. “Frank, open up. It’s Ed,” Burrows demanded.

  The door opened and a short man wearing a Limp Bizkit t-shirt stood facing them. “Come in,” he said.

  The basement didn’t smell too welcoming. Martin took out a handkerchief and covered his mouth. Pigs lived better than this man, Martin thought.

  “Did you bring the money?” Frank said to Ed.

  “First show us what we want,” Ms. Zee said.

  Frank looked in the direction of Ms. Zee but didn’t make eye contact. He went to a room and came back holding a plastic bottle. There was a small table with Styrofoam boxes scattered on it. With the back of his hand he cleared it; the boxes fell to the floor.

  He dropped a cou
ple of white tablets on top of the table and stood back. “That’s what you want,” he said, still refusing to make eye contact with anyone.

  They didn’t understand.

  “What is it?” Ms. Zee said.

  “Rapidly disintegrating tablets,” he responded, looking at the ground. “They will dissolve in the mouth within two to three seconds.”

  “Three seconds?” Ms. Zee said. “Is that possible?”

  “Yeah. Two to three seconds.”

  Burrows brow furrowed and he made no comment.

  “Try it,” Frank said.

  Ms. Zee looked at Burrows, who shook his head. She didn’t even bother turning to Martin, who was still holding the handkerchief over his mouth.

  “All right,” Frank said. “I’ll try it.” He picked one tablet and placed it on the back of his tongue and closed his mouth. Hardly a second later, he opened and his tongue was empty of the tablet. “It’s safe. It’s just a placebo.”

  Seeing this, Burrows had to satisfy his scientific curiosity. He gingerly picked one tablet and placed it in his mouth. The tablet disappeared on his tongue. He smiled at Ms. Zee. “Yes, it’s possible.”

  She picked one tablet and tried it. It was true. She turned to Martin.

  Martin wasn’t interested, but her stare pushed him. He didn’t like the tablets lying exposed to the filth on the table. He carefully picked one up and immediately shoved it into his mouth. His eyes widened. Nex could actually be produced.

  “It dissolves with the saliva,” Frank said. “And goes straight into the blood stream—”

  “—Having an immediate effect,” Burrows completed the sentence.

  There was a brief silence.

  “Satisfied?” Frank said, as if he was talking to someone else in the room.

  “Yes, but how?” asked Ms. Zee.

  “Do you have my money?” he said.

  “First. How?”

  “No, no, no. I showed you, now my money.”

  Ms. Zee nodded to Martin, who removed a folded manila envelope and placed it on the table. Frank snatched it and disappeared into another room.

  Burrows plucked another tablet off the table and crushed it between his two fingers. “It’s powder.”

  “Yes, of course it’s powder,” Frank said coming back.