Race

by Mobashar Qureshi

  Garnett finally said. “Carlos, you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Herrera said. He pulled out his gun and checked to see if it was loaded. “What’re we waiting for?”

  I was thinking that too.

  ***

  Her makeshift office was bare, save for the lone desk and two chairs. Ms. Zee placed her elbows on the desk and her face in her palms. There was so much running through her mind, but in the end it was all directed towards one man. Peter Stankovich. Her ex-husband.

  Peter Stankovich had stolen over four million dollars from the clients of the insurance company he had worked for. It was supposed to be a perfect crime. A crime so easy to accomplish that he wondered why no one else had thought of it.

  He sent one hundred of his clients false invoices regarding their policies. In them, he inflated their monthly premiums. With the help of the funds accountant, he opened another company account, where the money was directly deposited. After taking the excess, he then forwarded the actual premium amount to the correct account.

  At the end of each year, he sent each client an annual policy statement with the excess premium figures. For three years, no one noticed. The correct amounts were coming in from policyholders. Everything seemed normal. Until, one year the insurance company quietly hired an external company to prepare and send annual policy statements to its clients.

  When clients received their correct statements they were outraged at the difference from what they were actually paying.

  The insurance company received many calls, and all those calls were from clients of Peter Stankovich.

  Peter Stankovich and the accountant were convicted of fraud and embezzlement in excess of $5000 and each sentenced to six years.

  Peter Stankovich was cocky, arrogant, and cruel. That was the way Ms. Zee remembered him.

  She clearly remembered what he had said to her the last time they had dinner together in their home. “You’re nothing but a stupid spoiled slut. Without me you’d be greeting customers at Walmart.”

  She wasn’t stupid. Spoiled, yes, but definitely not stupid. She knew what he was up to and she did what he had done to his clients. She opened a separate account, one hidden from him, and each week deposited small amounts into that account. In the end she had a large sum.

  With Martin, her lawyer, she took the divorce papers to Peter in jail and had him sign them. He wasn’t happy. It wasn’t the divorce that bothered him. It was the fact that she stole money from him. He tried to get her convicted too, but, as he had once, the jury thought she was just a spoiled housewife, incapable of anything devious.

  It was at the jail visiting Peter that she saw Kong. He was in for assault, pending a trial. Through Martin she posted Kong’s bail. Then, she met Armand, and the possibility of out-doing her ex-husband came into being.

  ***

  She lifted her head up and saw the empty room. She hadn’t had time to furnish it, which was a good thing. The only valuable object was the design of Nex.

  Ms. Zee placed the papers in her briefcase and kept it close to her. She understood the situation. She was going to take the samples, which Ed Burrows would bring to her any minute now, and leave the country. She had many contacts and those contacts would be very useful in her escape.

  With the process in her hands she could start her operations anywhere—in any country.

  Burrows came through the door. In his hands was a sealed white container, the size of an icebox.

  “There are five thousand in here,” he said.

  Five thousand tablets of Nex, she smiled. This wasn’t a waste, after all.

  “Where’s Martin?” Ms. Zee asked.

  “I haven’t seen him,” he replied.

  She quickly ordered Hause to go find him. Martin was going to arrange for everything. He was going to arrange her escape.

  Hause came back shaking his head. Martin was gone.

  Now she was worried.

  THIRTY-ONE

  I was getting nervous. I didn’t know what Garnett was waiting for. Weren’t we ready? I gave Beadsworth a Let’s-go look. He shrugged.

  A Volvo pulled up beside us. The only person missing from Operation Anti-RACE was Barnes. Then the door swung open and out came Sergeant Aldrich.

  This was going to be good.

  “Good work, Detective,” Aldrich said, speaking to Garnett. “Fine work.”

  Garnett made no comment.

  “Are you certain they are in there?” Aldrich said.

  “Yes,” Garnett responded.

  Aldrich smiled but it didn’t look natural.

  I wanted to punch him—on his upper lip.

  Aldrich came over to me. His blonde hair was perfectly combed. He looked cool, calm and collected. “Officer Rupret, I hear you’re the one who cracked open this case. I’m quite certain the intelligence unit will receive a letter of recommendation.”

  Martin was sitting inside Garnett’s Toyota. I looked at Aldrich and then at Martin. I did this, maybe three or four times. I then winked at Aldrich. The wink that said, I know.

  For a split second there was a twitch under his left eye.

  “Thank you, sir,” I said, ever so politely. “I’m thinking more about joining internal affairs.” I didn’t know if I was qualified, or capable, but who cared.

  Aldrich’s other eye twitched. It was entertaining to see the volley of twitches from one eye to the other.

  Garnett’s voice interrupted my fun. “Sir, should we proceed?” Garnett said.

  I admired Garnett for keeping himself professional, even though he knew Aldrich was a criminal.

  Aldrich coughed. His twitching ceased. “Yes, go ahead, Detective.”

  Aldrich was about to move away from me when I said, “Sir, you were right. I am young, imaginative, creative and bold. I used all these qualities to solve this case.”

  I think he wanted to hit me but he just walked away.

  ***

  When Garnett gave the signal we were at the front of the warehouse in less than a minute. Both Beadsworth and I got out of our vehicle at exactly the same time.

  I followed as Beadsworth raced along the side of the building and toward a door. With all his might he kicked the door. I was amazed at how much strength those legs of his had. Maybe the door was in bad shape with the hinges wearing out. In any case, the door went down.

  Beadsworth moved in.

  We were inside a small area no bigger than two elevator shafts. On my left were empty pizza boxes. It smelled of onions and anchovies.

  We were faced with another door. Like a fly, Beadsworth attached himself to the right side wall, his gun tightly gripped to his chest. I wanted to do the same, but the pizza boxes got in my way.

  Beadsworth motioned his head toward the door.

  I gestured. What?

  He moved his leg and motioned again.

  I was to kick the door down.

  I shook my head and touched my upper lip. I was not in good shape.

  He nodded, abruptly turned, and with one kick knocked the door down.

  Kicking down doors was not my thing. I could manage breaking windows with baseball bats, if the windows were thin and I was guaranteed no flying glass would hit me.

  We heard voices echo from inside.

  Police.

  Get down.

  Stop.

  Don’t move.

  We entered the warehouse, the fluorescent lights high above us. The place felt cold.

  We were confronted with large baffles that ran along one side, with occasional openings that resembled doors.

  A man peeked out from one of the openings.

  “Stop!” I yelled, my gun trembling before me.

  He ducked back in.

  I ran after him.

  Inside the opening I found a disorganized room. It looked like it was in the process of being cleared. Monitors, keyboards, and cables and wires were scattered everywhere. There was other equipment, too. Your chemistry lab type: beakers, test tubes, flasks, and inst
ruments I did not know the names of.

  The man disappeared around another door. I heard a voice. When I turned the corner I saw Beadsworth on top of the man. The man was sprawled on his stomach. He had brown skin and a punched in nose.

  From the corner of my eye I saw a man with blond hair, holding something that looked like a computer monitor. It was the guy who had pulled the gun on Beadsworth at the BUBBLE T SHOP.

  When he saw me he dropped what he was holding and ran behind another baffle.

  The place was a maze.

  I wasn’t going to run after him. Let Garnett or Nemdharry do it.

  But Beadsworth had seen me see him, so he was expecting me to run and arrest him.

  Reluctantly, I did.

  ***

  As I spun around the corner and through a door draped with long strips of plastics, I felt a sudden chill.

  I was inside another room. Huge racks that went up at least eight feet now surrounded me. The racks held empty trays. As I moved past them I realized some were full. Most of the trays contained individual white tablets.

  Curiosity pushed me to pick one up. I applied pressure, and there was a weak jolt, not enough to cause any alarms, but the tablet crumpled between my fingers, leaving behind small crystals that looked like sugar.

  I was about to lick it—that’s what they did on TV, when I heard steps further up. I wiped the white stuff on my pants and with my gun ready, went deeper into the room.

  There were maybe two-dozen of these racks. I crouched, and through the racks tried to spot any legs.

  There was movement on my left.

  I turned.

  Nothing.

  This was absurd, I thought.

  “Hey, dude,” I yelled. “You’re surrounded. Come out and we’ll go easy on you.”

  Go easy on you? Who ever says that?

  I eased forward, my eyes darting around. I wasn’t going to let this guy surprise me. No sir. I was like a tiger sneaking up on its prey.

  Nothing got past these radar ears.

  A shadow came over me, as a huge rack tipped. I rolled sideways, missing it by inches, but several of the trays flew out and hit me squarely on the face.

  That hurt.

  I was covered with hundreds of white tablets.

  I stroked my hair and tablets fell out.

  I got to my feet, but lost my balance on the scattered tablets. I scrambled up and composed myself.

  This was really absurd.

  I tiptoed over the sea of white tablets and stomped ahead.

  I was now pissed. “I’m going to shoot you,” I said. At this point I would have.

  As I was getting further, it was getting colder.

  I was shivering.

  I knew why.

  Many of the freezer doors were left open. Purposely.

  He was trying to freeze me.

  I don’t think so.

  He didn’t realize how resilient I was.

  I sneezed. And then sneezed several times more.

  I wiped the snot with the back of my sleeve.

  I must be coming down with something.

  I did a full circle and when I was certain I was alone I gently shut one of the freezer doors.

  I went along doing this.

  When I pulled the last door to close it, out came a fist from behind. I reacted, but not fast enough. It smashed into my chin.

  I lost my footing and fell on my back. My gun, already too cold to grip, flew out and landed underneath one of the racks.

  I had to get back on my feet, but he was on me like a tiger.

  He raised his fist but stopped in midair.

  I was confused.

  He looked to his left and I did too.

  Garnett stood with his gun aimed squarely at him.

  This was the second time Garnett had saved my life. It was embarrassing.

  I got to my feet as Garnett cuffed the blond man.

  The blond man had the I-almost-had-you look.

  I hated it.

  Garnett pulled the blond man away by his collars.

  I was standing alone in the cold room.

  ***

  I had had enough. The warehouse was secure and all the occupants in custody. I took the first exit out onto the street.

  Three members of the Clandestine Laboratory Unit brushed past me. They had their hands full with all the chemicals and stuff inside.

  It was the middle of the night but I could still make out a dozen or so marked and unmarked vehicles around the warehouse.

  The media would be swarming in any minute.

  I couldn’t believe it was finally over. We had RACE and Nex. But I didn’t feel cheerful or happy.

  I was relieved, though.

  Maybe, I was expecting more.

  I guess I was hoping I would be the one to solve this case all by myself. Instead, it was Beadsworth who’d made sense of everything that had happened.

  There was a noise that made me turn. I saw Herrera escorting Laura, whose real name, I later found out, was Zeena Stankovich. She was handcuffed and her head was bent.

  As they got closer, I stopped them.

  “I knew it was you all along,” I said.

  Her face contorted. She was ready to spit.

  “Take her away,” I said.

  Herrera was more than glad to.

  I saw someone I was glad to see. Clara Terries. She had just turned the corner and was walking with another officer. I was relieved to see it was Nemdharry and not some young, good-looking fellow.

  Not that it mattered…

  She smiled as she came closer.

  “I guess, we did it, Jon.” Her smile widened.

  Jon. I blushed. I lowered my voice, “Ma’am, I’m also referred to as Jonny.”

  “Is that right?” she said, playing along. “I’m referred to as Clara. Not Officer Terries or Officer Clara. Just Clara.”

  “It’s a deal. Clara.”

  We both went silent. I glanced at the warehouse.

  “Are we still on?” she asked.

  “I’m sorry?” I said.

  “When we first met, you asked if I liked bubble tea. I’ll take you up on that offer.”

  My face dropped. It was the last place I wanted to go—not that I had anything against bubble tea. As a matter of fact, I still cannot stop praising the strawberry kind.

  “Uh, I…if you really want…” I started.

  She leaned closer and whispered. “I’m only kidding. I heard what happened.”

  I was relieved.

  “Maybe, somewhere else then?” She winked.

  I nodded and smiled.

  ***

  I sat on the cold pavement and leaned back on my palms, trying to soak up everything. Reporters, followed by cameramen, approached the secured area. More people were led in handcuffs to marked cruisers. Aldrich talked to reporters as if it was he who had stopped this new and unknown threat.

  I later found out it was Garnett who had called Aldrich here.

  Apart from Longfoot, Garnett, Beadsworth, Nemdharry, and me, of course, no one knew Aldrich’s ties to RACE, not even the other members of Operation Anti-RACE.

  Aldrich would be disciplined but it would all be internal, I was later told.

  Garnett emerged from the warehouse. I waved him over.

  Reluctantly he came.

  I didn’t bother getting up. “Detective Garnett, shouldn’t you be talking to the media instead of him?”

  Garnett looked in the direction of Aldrich and said, “That might be his last time. Let him talk. He’s good at it.”

  Was that a joke?

  “Sir,” I said. “I would like to thank you for saving my life. Twice.”

  He looked at me intently. “Officer Rupert, I had no choice. I didn’t want any mess on my hands. Remember clearly what I’m about to say. If I had a choice you wouldn’t be talking to me right now.”

  That, I knew, was not a joke.

  ***

  Beadsworth was bending down to a cru
iser window. He was talking to Zeena Stankovich, the mastermind behind this operation. He said a few words and then approached me.

  “I’m glad you’ve found a good spot,” he said, referring to the side pavement.

  “Only one available, I’m afraid. If you want I could probably find a spot for you,” I said looking around.

  “I’ll pass.”

  “She give you any trouble?” I said, jerking my head toward the cruiser.

  “As a matter of fact, no,” he said. “She was very cooperative. She knew we were coming.”

  There was a moment of silence when he said, “Are you still interested in being a drug enforcement officer?”

  “It’s too dangerous. Right now I’m not sure about anything.”

  Beadsworth said, “I’ve just spoken to Joseph Lenard. He is alive and staying with a friend. He said something that didn’t make sense, but he said you would understand. He said he was watching television when he heard gunshots, bullets ripped through the window and…I’m not sure if this is correct, but that they hit Michael Jordan?”

  I grinned. “A friend.”

  “He then saw a flaming bottle come through the window. He didn’t know what else to do but jump through the back window to the porch roof and escaped. We’ll clarify his statements later.”

  Joey was alive.

  There was silence and then Beadsworth spoke. “Officer Rupret, you’re still welcome to stay at our home until you decide what to do.”

  “Can you stop calling me Officer Rupret,” I snapped. “Haven’t we gone through enough? Can’t you call me Jon or Jonny?”

  He paused and then said, “Jon.”

  Wow. I was making progress with him.

  “Then can I call you Phil or Phillip?” I said.

  He thought about it.

  “No,” he said, and walked away.

  ***

  The sun came up. I was the last person to leave the sidewalk and the area. Beadsworth had offered me a ride but I declined. I wanted some time alone. I didn’t know whether I was going to stay in the force or not, but there was one thing I did know for sure. I wanted to go back home and, over tea and biscuits, have a long talk with my mom.