Race

by Mobashar Qureshi

  “We shoot her and then what?” Hause said. “What if there are more inside? We can’t shoot everyone to get upstairs. We have to do it quietly.”

  “How?”

  “Let me think.”

  ***

  Through the window I saw her say something on the phone, shut it, and come back in.

  “Who were you calling?” I asked as she sat down.

  “My sister. I had to tell her I’d be a little late.”

  We went back to eating our dinner.

  “Rupret?” she said. “That’s an interesting name.”

  I don’t know why, maybe to just talk to her, I told her. “I might have not mentioned it, but I’m from Nigeria. I was born there. Before my father was born, my grandfather worked for a British mining company. He wanted to fit in and get promoted so he decided to change his name. He chose the name William Rupert, but the clerk who was filling out the required forms typed his name incorrectly as William Rupret. My grandfather didn’t care if it was Rupert or Rupret, only that it sounded British.” I looked down at my plate. “My father never corrected it out of respect for his father, and I never changed it out of respect for him.”

  “That’s so sweet,” she said.

  I was staring at the plate, thinking of my father.

  “Are you okay?” she said, concerned.

  I nodded. “You haven’t told me your full name yet.”

  She laughed, “Its Laura Spencer.”

  “Laura Spencer,” I repeated. “Interesting.”

  “Not as interesting as yours.”

  “Do you have to leave tomorrow?” I asked.

  “Yes, or we’ll lose our client.”

  “You could get another client.”

  “He’s worth millions.”

  “Maybe you could get someone who’s worth billions.” I wanted her to stay. I wanted to get to know her.

  ***

  Hause and Suraj were debating what to do when suddenly the second floor bedroom lights came on. Through the window drapes they could make out someone’s shadow. Joey was inside. But they couldn’t do anything. The old woman was still sweeping away the leaves.

  “We shoot her?” Suraj pleaded.

  Hause said nothing.

  “We shoot and shoot and leave. That’s it.”

  Hause understood, two shots: one for the woman and one for Joey.

  “No,” Hause said. “There has to be another way.”

  Suraj’s eyes suddenly lit up. “I’ll show you.”

  He got out of the car and went to the trunk. He pulled out a bag and opened it. Inside, four Molotov cocktail bottles lay side-by-side.

  “You made them?” Hause asked.

  Suraj moved his head up and down. “We drive up, throw these and drive away,” he said.

  Hause thought about it and then agreed. They were wasting too much time. Suraj grabbed two bottles and shut the trunk. That’s when they realized the woman was no longer there. She must have gone inside.

  They went back inside the car and waited. When it looked like the street was empty, Suraj put the car in gear and sped toward the house.

  The Sundance screeched to a halt right in front of the entrance. Suraj lit one of the Molotov cocktails and got out. Hause fired two shots at the silhouetted figure on the second floor, who fell upon impact. Suraj hurled the Molotov into the window and they were off.

  It was done in less than ten seconds.

  ***

  We were laughing hysterically; I was telling her jokes, well, not really jokes but my stories with comical twists. The waiter took our empty plates and brought us dessert, custard mixed with cake and assorted fruits.

  “This place is great,” she said.

  “I discovered it,” I said modestly.

  That got a small laugh out of her. I liked her smile. Those perfect teeth.

  I said, “When will you be coming back to Toronto?”

  “I won’t be,” she said.

  My face dropped, my chin nearly hitting the table. “Why not?”

  “After this contract I might get another elsewhere.”

  “So you’re always traveling,” I said, trying hard to conceal my disappointment.

  “Yeah.” Her eyes dropped to her dessert. “It doesn’t leave much time for a relationship.”

  I nodded.

  My cell phone rang. I apologized and answered it. It was my landlady. She was beyond hysterical.

  “Slow down…what…fire…where…my house…” So many questions roared through my head. “I’ll be there.” I hung up. I thought about Joey. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have left him alone. Oh, shit. I had a feeling in my belly that something terrible had happened.

  “Is everything okay?” I heard Laura say.

  My head was spinning. My landlady sounded frightened. She never called me. Never.

  “I have to go,” I said and got up.

  “Do you want me to come?” Laura said.

  “No—no.”

  She kissed me on the cheek and I left her in the restaurant and headed for home.

  ***

  I drove to my house to find it in a blaze. Fire trucks, police vehicles, ambulances, the whole emergency unit was there. I thought about Joey. My stomach turned and something moved up my throat. I threw up right there on the sidewalk.

  ***

  I was inside Beadsworth’s car on our way to his house. I remembered seeing my landlady, comforted by her son, crying. I remembered seeing the firefighters trying to subdue the flames. I remembered meeting Beadsworth, Aldrich and Garnett. I remembered Beadsworth asking about Joey. Joey was inside the house, I remembered saying.

  I remembered vomiting again.

  I remembered Garnett saying, “It should have been you.”

  I wished it were me.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  I woke up. The sun streamed through the window and hit my face. I rolled over to shield myself. The room was bare. Beige, with nothing but a bed and a dresser.

  I was wearing the clothes I’d worn to dinner the night before. I saw my jacket hung in the open closet and my socks on the floor.

  I got up. I moved the blinds and found myself staring down into the back yard. There was a huge pool on the left and a children’s playground, with swings and slides, on the right.

  I left the room and walked down a nicely carpeted hall. I went down a spiral staircase to the main floor. I heard noises coming from the living room. I leaned in and saw a woman holding and talking to a baby. She caught me peeking and smiled.

  “I hope we didn’t wake you?” she said with a heavy English accent.

  I shook my head. “No, I like getting up early.” But then realized it was well past ten.

  “I’m Amy.”

  “Jon Rupret, R before E.”

  “Yes, Phillip told me.” She smiled. “He’ll be in later. What would you like for breakfast? I’m not much of a cook, but I can put something together.”

  “Anything is good.”

  “Toast and scrambled eggs then?”

  She was a little heavy, with brownish cropped hair and intelligent eyes.

  The baby cradled in her arms looked at me curiously.

  “His name is Liam,” she said. “Liam, this is Officer Rupret. Say hello.” The baby continued staring at me. He was probably wondering who let this guy into the house.

  “How old is he?” I asked. I already knew, but what else would you say to a woman holding a baby?

  “Five months,” she smiled.

  ***

  The Beadsworths lived in a very affluent neighbourhood. All the houses in the area resembled mini-mansions. After breakfast I strolled through the house. It was spacious, to say the least, and very opulent.

  Fine carpets, marble countertops, exquisite chandeliers—it seemed no expenses were spared decorating.

  I’d be the first to admit I didn’t know much about big and expensive houses, but I did occasionally watch Famous Homes and Hideaways. And, this house looked like it belonged in
that show.

  How could someone on a police officer’s salary afford this?

  I went to the living room and placed myself on a stylish black leather sofa. Immediately my body became sucked into the softness. It reminded me of my brief affair with Cal Murray’s sofa.

  Amy Beadsworth came over and sat across from me. “Liam is sleeping,” she said. “He wakes up early but, thankfully, sleeps in the afternoon. This gives me time to rest, too. I’m sorry about your house.”

  I gave her the What-can-you-do shrug.

  “I think it’s nice that you’re staying with us. We have plenty of room.”

  I can see that. My eyes moved around the living room. “It must take a lot of time cleaning this place,” I said.

  She laughed, the way rich people do: proper, and not too loud. “With Noel and Liam I don’t have time. Margarita, our maid, comes in the afternoon. She’s so much help. She keeps this place spiffy. She’s a wonderful cook, too. When I arrived from England, I didn’t even know how to break an egg.” She laughed. “Margarita has taught me a lot. I don’t know what I would do without her.”

  I knew I’d tasted eggshells in my breakfast.

  “You have family in Toronto?” she asked.

  “A mother in Guelph.”

  “What about brothers and sisters?”

  “I was an only child.”

  We heard the sound of the front door and Beadsworth came in, looking serious.

  He kissed his wife and then sat down. She left us to talk.

  “Did they find anything in my house?” I said.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “What about RACE?” I said. “The address Joey gave us. Anything there?”

  “Nothing. We found the location vacant. They knew we were coming.”

  “How?”

  “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  “Great, for a guy who just saw his house burned down and the kid he was supposed to protect, dead.”

  Beadsworth had gotten used to my sarcasm so he made no comment.

  “Aldrich must be really pissed?” I said.

  “Yes. He was upset.” Beadsworth leaned back and unbuttoned his coat. He crossed his legs. “Not more upset than I was.”

  “It was a mistake,” I said.

  “Yes, a very fatal mistake.”

  “I could have gone down with my house.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Hey,” I snapped. “I know you told me to watch over Joey but Joey shouldn’t have been under my protection. If I remember correctly, you insisted he be left with me. Why?”

  “I thought he would be safe,” he said. “I was wrong.” He sucked in air and blew out. “Officer Rupret, we are no longer investigating RACE, or whatever this organization maybe called.”

  “We just give up?” I said.

  “Indefinitely.”

  He didn’t seem pleased about it either.

  “This doesn’t make sense,” I said.

  “Of course, it does. The RCMP investigation in to the wrongdoings of the drug squad will go to court within the next few days. The media will be focusing primarily on this event. The Chief does not want any more fodder for the press.”

  “What about RACE and Nex?” I asked.

  “That is out of my hands. I’ll be going back to my divisional duties as of today.” He looked away. “Constable Barnes is making a speedy recovery.”

  Knowing that made me feel a little better, but not a lot. Joey’s death would be something I’d never get over.

  Beadsworth continued. “Constable Barnes doesn’t remember anything from that night, but the department’s psychologist is monitoring him. If you require I can arrange one for you.”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Last night you mentioned you were with this woman, Laura Spencer. Is this correct?”

  I nodded.

  “We did a search and several names came up, but none live in Toronto.”

  “She doesn’t live here. She was visiting her sister.”

  “Do you know her sister’s name?”

  “No.”

  “You also mentioned her sister lived around the block from your house. Do you have an address?”

  I shook my head. I don’t know what I was thinking yesterday. Maybe I wasn’t thinking. Had I known Joey would be so vulnerable I would have acted differently.

  “Can I see my house?” I said.

  “Yes, of course. I can take you there. But there isn’t much to see, I’m afraid.”

  I didn’t care. I wanted to see for myself. And, I wanted to meet my dear ’ol landlady.

  ***

  The warehouse, located along the lakeshore, near the west end, was in a decrepit state. The multi-coloured—brown and pink—exterior bricks were fading, revealing white surface walls. The large rectangular windows were either tinted or broken, and those that were broken were boarded up with two-inch plywood. From the outside it looked like an unoccupied, rundown building, but inside it was anything but.

  The warehouse was divided into four sections. One for the mixture of Nex, one for the production of the tablets, one for storage of the final product, and one for the distribution.

  All the ingredients had been delivered. The blister packs, trays, liquid nitrogen freezing tunnels, refrigerators, and freeze-dryers had arrived early in the morning. They had everything to begin production of Nex.

  Ms. Zee was surprised no alarms had gone off with these purchases. Someone could have alerted the police.

  Kong entered the office and stood silently. Ms. Zee had sent him to all her suppliers. It was an asset to have Kong in the negotiation process of a transaction. Most suppliers would be reluctant to overcharge.

  Kong grunted.

  She understood. He was unhappy with her. He wanted to be the one to snap Joey’s neck.

  “Kong,” Ms. Zee said. “You will have other chances. I promise.”

  ***

  I found what was left of my house in total ruins. The second floor was black and charred, with the roof collapsed at an angle. There were a handful of investigators and a few clean-up personnel coming in and out of the house.

  I stayed in the car, unable to generate the will to get out. Beadsworth was behind the wheel but said nothing. I wanted to go in, see with my own eyes, the state of my home. But I knew if I did I wouldn’t be able to get the image out of my head.

  So I sat watching from a distance. My house and my life had gone up in smoke. No home to go to, no job, per se.

  I asked Beadsworth to drop me a block away. David was home and my landlady was there, too. I spent the next two hours at the house. While we chatted, my landlady cried.

  She would live with her son until her house was rebuilt. I could live with them, if I wanted, but I declined. I was thinking about spending some time with my mother, but I didn’t know how I was going to call her and tell her the bad news.

  I left the house and headed for the Parking Enforcement Headquarters. Just as I entered the building people started coming towards me. They had seen the story on CITY-TV and asked me all sorts of questions.

  “How did it happen?”

  “Did you lose everything?”

  “Will your insurance pay for it?”

  “Where will you live?”

  There was also lots of support.

  “We’re glad you’re okay.”

  “If we can do anything, let us know.”

  I thanked everyone.

  I found Staff Sergeant Motley in his office.

  “Jon?” he said getting up. “Come in, have a seat.”

  I sat.

  “I read it in the morning papers,” he said. “I tried contacting you.”

  “I haven’t been answering my cell phone,” I said.

  He waited. I stared around the familiar office. It looked the same. It was bare, but homely. I clearly remembered the times I had come in and had long talks with the sergeant. He always tried to solve my problems.

  Now I had a problem. I said, �
��I kind of screwed up.”

  He waited.

  “And I was hoping if I could…”

  “Yes, of course,” he said. “You can come back whenever you want. I’ll talk to Sergeant Aldrich and we could arrange for your transfer back.”

  Sergeant Motley didn’t even ask how I had screwed up. He knew what I wanted and he was there to provide it.

  “But not now,” I said.

  “Whenever you are ready,” he answered.

  “Business good at my route?” I said, inquiring about my old shift.

  “Not as good as it used to be,” he smiled.

  I got up. “I have to go.”

  He opened a drawer and pulled out a white envelope. “All the guys chipped in to help you get through.” He handed it to me.

  The envelope was thick and bulky. Without looking inside, I placed it in my pocket.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  I closed the door and found Roberta standing in the hall. Without saying a word she hugged me. “Jon, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  I nodded, feeling like a wounded warrior.

  “Do you want to talk?” she asked.

  I nodded.

  ***

  We went to a deli across the street. A few minutes of silence had passed when she said, “Do you want to tell me everything?”

  I nodded and told her exactly what had happened. She didn’t understand most of it but she didn’t interrupt me.

  “I’m glad you are not hurt,” she said when I had finished.

  I leaned back and rubbed my temples. “I don’t know what to do. This has been the worst time of my life. It’s all happened so fast. This is not what I had expected my life to be. I’m homeless, Roberta.”

  “Don’t say that,” she said. “At least you’re alive.”

  “You know, what I don’t understand is why would they put me, the guy who gives tickets, on a so-called major drug team. On top of that, I don’t understand how come no one has heard of RACE.”

  “What’s RACE?”

  “Exactly. Radical Association of Criminal Ethnicities. Have you ever heard of it? No. Even Joey had never heard of it, and he was working with them. Cal Murray didn’t know who we were talking about when we were at the House of Jam. Only people who actually thought this so-called group existed were Aldrich and Beadsworth. And…” I stopped. I went silent.