Race

by Mobashar Qureshi

  “We’re making progress,” I said. I got up and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You make good progress too, okay?”

  He smiled and thanked me for coming and then went back to watching TV.

  ***

  I got back downtown, called Cal Murray, and after a few rings he answered. I told him I wanted a talk with him. After a little begging he agreed.

  I waited behind the House of Jam until he showed up. “I don’t have much time, but come,” he said.

  We went up the flight of stairs, through the narrow hall and into his office.

  “This hot rapper from Scarborough will be coming down to promote his new CD and we’ve got a lot of promotional stuff to do.”

  “What’s his name?” I asked.

  “Altar Boy. You might not have heard of him yet, but he’ll be the next big thing.”

  He went around his desk and sat down. “Have a seat,” he offered.

  I saw the oh-so-familiar sofa and my mind flashed back to the time I had nearly lost my hear to it.

  “I’ll stand,” I said.

  Cal said, “It was nice of you guys not to launch an investigation after the attack. It would have given this place a bad rep. How’s he doing, anyways?”

  “Constable Barnes is recovering,” I said. I was about to ask him a question when he interrupted me.

  “Who was it that did it?”

  “I’m sorry?” I said.

  “You guys did catch whoever attacked the officer?”

  “Not yet—that’s not why I’m here—”

  “—That’s not possible,” he said, taken aback. “You have the videotapes from that night.”

  “Not all,” I corrected him. “We’re missing the one that recorded the attack.”

  “That’s not possible,” he puffed. “I handed all the tapes to the police.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yes, all. Even before I had a chance to view them, someone came and took them.”

  “Who? Can you remember?”

  His eyes darted from one end of the desk to the other. He was thinking hard. “Yes, of course,” he said. “It was your partner.”

  “Sorry?” I said startled. “Who?”

  “Your partner. With the beard and the slight accent. I gave both of you the tour of the club. Remember?”

  I found myself losing breath and getting dizzy. “Do you mind if I sit down?” Before he answered, I fell on the sofa. My mind was reeling. This was too much. I suspected Beadsworth was up to something illegal but this was tampering with evidence.

  I spoke with laboured breath, “Are you sure it was Phillip Beadsworth?”

  “Yes,” he said, recognizing the name. “He came up to my office and demanded I give him all the camera tapes, and assured me there would be no investigation if I did.”

  I grabbed my head. Everything was making more sense. I strained. Yes, it was getting clearer. Joey had mentioned there was a mole in the police department. Beadsworth. I remembered Beadsworth’s words, “Things were happening before you arrived and they will continue to happen after you leave.” He meant his involvement with RACE. He was part of RACE. He was the one who had insisted Joey stay with me. Why me? Joey should have been in the witness protection program. Beadsworth knew if Joey was under me he’d have access to him.

  My mouth dropped.

  “Is something wrong?” I heard Cal say, but I ignored him.

  Beadsworth must have joined Operation Anti-RACE to keep an eye on the investigation. He was leaking information to RACE. In return he was paid well; that explained the envelopes he gave his wife. That also explained the huge house and everything inside it.

  I had to talk to Aldrich. I didn’t like him, but I had to do something.

  “Hey man, you okay?” Cal said again.

  “Yeah…I’m fine.” Suddenly my phone rang. It was Marcus from Regent Park. He sounded nervous. RACE had contacted him and they were on their way to meet him.

  I got up, “Thanks, man.” I went to the door. “Oh, by the way, there’s a tiny little tear on the sofa. If you want to get rid of it and get yourself a fancy one—especially for this new rapper, you give me a call.”

  ***

  The Lincoln turned into Regent Park. Hause was driving with Ms. Zee and Kong in the back. Martin didn’t accompany them. He was too busy with the logistics of the operation.

  They found Marcus in the laundry room. Ms. Zee sensed he looked uneasy, almost nervous. It could be that she now had the drug and he had no choice but agree to all her demands.

  The smell of detergent and fabric softener was very strong.

  “Do you have it?” he said. “Or is this another sample?”

  She eyed his bodyguard in the back, a skinny guy with a menacing face. He had his eyes fixed on Kong. Kong in return had his eyes fixed on him.

  “Do you have it or is this a waste of my time?” Marcus said. His right hand shook slightly.

  She pulled out a plastic prescription bottle and placed it on top of one of the washing machines. “It’s all there.”

  Marcus motioned and his bodyguard walked over, picked it up, and handed it to him.

  Marcus scanned the bottle and then looked at the cap.

  “It’s child proof,” Ms. Zee said. “You have to push—”

  “I know,” he said, annoyed. “I know how to open it.” He twisted the cap off and dropped a tablet in his right palm. The tweezers were inside Ms. Zee’s pocket but she wasn’t going to offer it to him. “It’s square. Clever,” he said. He flipped the tablet over, examining it from all sides and angles. He then half-closed his palm and did a motion as if he was weighing it. He felt a jolt in his hand and then it went numb. “Shit.” He looked down and the tablet had almost completely disappeared. Three blinks later he regained feeling in his fingers. “What happened?” he said, looking at her.

  “You were sweating,” she said.

  ***

  I parked at a spot from where I could see the brown building. I couldn’t see much from this distance but I didn’t want to blow my cover by getting any closer. During the ride I had hatched a plan.

  Once RACE was done with their business they would come out. When they did, I’d follow them to their hide-out. I’d then notify Aldrich and with a task force we’d swoop down and apprehend them. When we had all the members of RACE, we’d go and get their main accomplice: Detective Phillip Beadsworth.

  I felt a lump in my throat. I thought about his wife and his children, specially, about Noel with his crooked teeth and metal braces. He was a good kid with so much potential. What would happen to him after he saw his father go to jail? Maybe he’d drop of out school and end up a drug dealer. It would be ironic, like father like son.

  ***

  Ms. Zee said, “When the tablet made contact with your sweat it dispersed into your skin.”

  “You mean it went into my body?” Marcus nearly screamed.

  “Don’t worry, your skin didn’t absorb all of it. I’d advise you to remove it from your hand immediately.”

  Without realizing it he wiped his hand over his coat. A white powdery paste attached itself to the fur.

  He screamed.

  She couldn’t help but laugh.

  His bodyguard pulled out a cloth and tried without success to remove the residue from the fur. He made it even worse by smearing it. Marcus cursed and shoved him aside.

  Ms. Zee was now laughing harder.

  “I’m glad you’re enjoying this,” he spat. He glanced over at Kong, whose face stayed the same the entire time. “At least someone doesn’t find this funny.”

  “He doesn’t find anything funny,” Ms. Zee answered.

  Martin straightened up and faced her. He needed some of the drug so it could be analyzed and copied. He knew people who’d be happy to help.

  “We need to test the drug,” Ms. Zee said.

  “What’re you talking about?” he said. “Didn’t you see what just happened?” He lifted his right hand.

  �
�Nex was not meant for sweaty palms. We need to see the effect when it is placed on the tongue.” She knew he was satisfied. But she wasn’t.

  He eyed her hard. He then motioned his bodyguard. The bodyguard hesitated; he didn’t want to leave his boss alone with them.

  “I’ll be all right,” Marcus said, turning to Ms. Zee. “We’re business partners now. Isn’t that right?”

  Ms. Zee hated his smugness but didn’t say anything.

  The bodyguard left them.

  ***

  From my spot I saw someone come out of the building but I couldn’t tell exactly who. He went around the corner and disappeared. I got out and crossed the street, careful not to get too close.

  The man came back, and I realized it was the bodyguard. Another man was with him. They went inside the building.

  I immediately turned around and went back to the car. Something was happening inside, but I had to wait for RACE to come out.

  ***

  The door of the laundry room swung open and in came the bodyguard with a short skinny man.

  The bodyguard went to Marcus and whispered something in his ear. Marcus nodded approvingly.

  “We have a volunteer,” he turned to Ms. Zee.

  She eyed the short man. He was wearing a ragged jacket that was so stained that no amount of washing would do it any good. He had stubble on his chin that looked more like dirt than hair. His eyes were vacant, as if he didn’t know why he was here.

  “Give it to him, then,” she said.

  Marcus gave the bottle containing the tablets to his bodyguard. He wasn’t going to touch it again.

  The bodyguard reluctantly took it. He then offered it to the short man. The man’s eyes widened.

  “No way, man,” he said. “I am not taking no shit. You guys cops? I don’t do drugs, man. I’ve been clean for months.”

  Ms. Zee said, “We’re not cops. We just want you to try it.”

  He looked at the bottle. “Not for twenty bucks,” he said.

  Twenty dollars? Ms. Zee shook her head. Here they were on the brink of something enormous and Marcus was being cheap.

  “I’ll give you a hundred dollars if you try it,” she said.

  “Hundred bucks?” he said. “Sure, I’ll try anything for a hundred bucks.”

  “Your hands dry?” Ms. Zee said.

  The man wiped his hand on his dirty coat and then showed it to her.

  She nodded to the bodyguard who dropped a tablet on the man’s hand.

  “Do not swallow,” Ms. Zee said. “Place it on your tongue.”

  The man held the square tablet between his two fingers and then stuck his tongue out and placed it on it. He wanted to follow her orders precisely. He wanted his hundred dollars.

  Instantly he grabbed his chest. He closed his eyes so tight that deep lines etched his face. He fell to his knees.

  Agonizing seconds went by as the man, with his head bowed close to his chest, stayed still on his knees.

  Then he lifted his head and a smile curled his face. He opened his eyes.

  “What happened?” Ms. Zee demanded.

  “Shit. That was awesome,” he said, showing his stained teeth. “Can I get another?”

  She pulled out a hundred dollar bill and shoved it to him. He took it, but said, “Please, just one more.”

  “That’ll cost you now,” said Marcus, seeing a business opportunity.

  “Just give him another and throw him out,” Ms. Zee said.

  “Outside,” Marcus waved to his bodyguard. He didn’t like seeing goods being given away for free.

  “So what do you think?” Ms. Zee said once the two had left.

  Marcus spoke with superiority. “It has potential. Fifty-fifty sounds reasonable.”

  “Let’s stick to our deal. Shall we?”

  “Thirty-seventy it is,” he said, realizing who had the upper hand. “When will I get a shipment?” he said eagerly.

  “Within forty-eight hours.”

  “That long?”

  “The process requires time.”

  “All right, all right. Just as long as I get the first shipment.”

  Kong and Ms. Zee left.

  When the bodyguard came back, Marcus said, “He swallow the tablet?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “He wanted another one.”

  A huge smile crossed Marcus’ face. Even his deal with the police officer fit into his plans.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  When Ms. Zee and Kong were inside the Lincoln, Hause turned and said, “We’re being followed.”

  “Who?” Ms. Zee demanded.

  “The black officer whose house we burned down.”

  Jonny Rupret, she realized. What’s he doing here?

  “Where is he?” she said.

  Hause motioned to the back. Ms. Zee turned slightly and saw a gray car parked in the distance.

  “How long has he been there?” Ms. Zee asked.

  “After you went inside.”

  “Try to lose him.” She hoped the officer hadn’t recognized her.

  ***

  Two people came out of the building. I couldn’t see clearly but I had a hunch it was the bodyguard with the same man I saw going in. A few minutes later two more people came out. I squinted, trying to get a clearer picture, but they quickly entered a white Lincoln.

  I couldn’t believe I had missed the Lincoln. It was right there in front of me.

  I started my car and waited.

  The Lincoln backed up and turned in the direction of the street I was parked on.

  I ducked, then peered over the dashboard, and saw the Lincoln enter Gerrard and drive past me.

  I did a U-turn and followed.

  The Lincoln sped ahead. I was only half-a-block behind. I didn’t accelerate. I didn’t want them to think they were being followed. My purpose was only to find out where they were going.

  They continued on Gerrard, passing Broadview then Greenwood and then they turned left on Coxwell. They were going north when they turned right onto O’Connor. It was when they entered Eglinton that I realized we were going toward Scarborough.

  They went left, right and then left again. I had a feeling they were trying to lose me. How could that be possible? I hadn’t even been close to the building. I’d been so far away that I couldn’t even see anyone come in or come out.

  I kept chase.

  They entered a one-way street and accelerated. I did, too. They turned into another street but I was right behind them. A highly qualified parking enforcement officer was following them—me.

  We’d done this cat-and-mouse chase for almost fifteen minutes when they exited onto a main road and began going at the required speed.

  When we were back on Eglinton I found myself getting a familiar feeling. My Civic was only two cars behind when I recognized where we were. The LLPM Import & Export building was a traffic light away.

  Maybe RACE did do operations at that building.

  I expected the Lincoln to turn left into the building’s parking lot, but instead it turned right. What the…?

  Hesitantly, I did so too.

  The Lincoln went into an alley beside a shop.

  It hit me like a thunderbolt.

  They went behind the BUBBLE T SHOP.

  What was RACE doing at my—now favourite—tea shop?

  I found a parking spot in front of the shop and got out. I pulled out my cell, ready to dial a number, but stopped.

  I wasn’t going to call Beadsworth. I was now certain he was part of their operation, maybe not as a full-fledged member but as an accomplice.

  I wanted to call Aldrich but first I had to be sure this was where RACE was operating. What if Marcus gave me the wrong information? What would happen if I called Aldrich and he came down with half the force only to find out they weren’t producing Nex but making delicious bubble tea? How would I save face then?

  My face would surely be splashed across all the major newspapers: Ex-PEO screws up, yet
again. Force humiliated with raid at quiet bubble-tea shop. John Rupert does it again! NO. I could not let that happen.

  I had this heavy feeling that I should make sure first.

  I peered through the window. As usual, Susan was behind the cash register. A handful of teenagers sat in one corner and a guy was reading a magazine in another.

  I decided to go around into the alley.

  Garbage and old cardboard boxes littered the pathway. When I was at the end I took a peek and saw the white Lincoln parked to the side. There was a door open, with sounds coming out. The sounds were probably from the staff of the BUBBLE T SHOP.

  I scanned the back area. There was no one around. They must have gone inside the shop. But what were they doing here?

  I carefully entered the open door and found another door on the left somewhat ajar.

  ***

  I grabbed the door handle and pulled. A flight of stairs went down.

  This was absurd. I wasn’t going down someone’s basement.

  I turned, when something hard hit me across the cheek. I reacted and fell forward, stumbling and then rolling down the steps. I realized I was on the ground when my head thumped on concrete.

  I was still conscious when I heard footsteps come down. I lifted my head, felt dizzy, then decided against it. Maybe if I closed my eyes for a second it might help. I felt a shadow over me and I opened my eyes

  A huge bald Chinese guy stared at me menacingly.

  “Hey, man,” I said. “I know how this looks. But I wasn’t trying to steal nothing. I’m a co—”

  He grabbed my collar and lifted me up like a doll.

  “Thanks,” I said once on my two feet.

  The guy didn’t say anything; he just towered over me, threateningly.

  My right cheek stung when my fingers touched it. It was going to leave a bruise. My nose hadn’t healed entirely from the last time, and now I had to worry about my cheek. I hoped make-up would cover the mark.

  I sucked air and looked up. The big guy had his arms crossed. The bulges underneath his shirt told me this guy worked out. I had to be careful.