Race Read online

“A little over a month ago. The second one two weeks after that and the most recent early last week.”

  Last week. We were getting close.

  Cal said. “I gave the samples to Max. I think you guys have them now. So what more do you want from me? You have the evidence, you go nail them.”

  My eyes were half-closed. I tried to fight it. I really did. But then I fell back into darkness.

  Beadsworth turned to me and said, “Officer Rupret will tell you.”

  That woke me up.

  Cal looked at me attentively.

  I shot Beadsworth a look. “Um, yes,” I said trying to get out of my haze. “This sofa. It is real leather?”

  “Yes,” replied Cal, slowly.

  “Good. We would like a tour. We want to know why RACE wants to do business here.” I had no idea what I was saying.

  “Who is this RACE?” said Cal turning to Beadsworth.

  Before he could answer I got up and pointed to the sofa, “Whenever you decide to throw it away you give me a call.” I slid a card with my phone number on his desk.

  Cal was confused but he nodded and said, “Yes, I can give you a tour.” He got up. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why don’t you guys go and arrest these people?”

  “He’ll answer that,” I pointed to Beadsworth. “I’ve talked enough.” I rubbed my eyes.

  “We need to know if they have the drug,” Beadsworth replied. “The samples we have aren’t the final product. That is where you come in. We need you to get it from them. So far we have something that sounds dangerous, but is it? We need to be certain.”

  “You want me to do business with them?” he said.

  “Yes, we believe they are still processing the drug. Once they have it they will be eager to push it and before they do we have to stop them.” Beadsworth handed Cal his card. “If and when they contact you, you give us a call.”

  “Come, I’ll show you the place,” Cal said. We were now in the narrow hall again.

  “What’s in that room?” I pointed.

  “If any of our special guests or performers want to chill out, we let them use it. Mostly, DJ’s use it to get a break. Max is our resident DJ, so he uses it. You want to see it?”

  I shook my head. “That’s all right.”

  ***

  He led us out through another door, this one heavy, and onto the mezzanine level. It was low-lit and a girl, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, was wiping the tables.

  Cal said, “On the left of this floor we have the VIP lounge with ultra-comfortable couches.”

  “Even better than the one in your office?” I asked.

  “I suppose,” he said, not realizing my love for his sofa. “If you’re tired, you can just relax here, or if you want to get a little cozy.” He winked. “Beside it we have two pool tables. In the middle we have the soda bar. From here you can see there are two stairs going down to the dance floor.”

  We moved to the railings. From this vantage point I could see the stage across.

  “We’ll go to the main floor in a minute,” Cal said.

  Beadsworth had his arms crossed behind his back and was strolling through the tour. His face had the expression of someone who didn’t care much for these things.

  “On the right, beside the soda bar, we have the washrooms with attendants.” Cal smiled.

  “Attendants?” Beadsworth said.

  “Yes, so nothing illegal or improper happens.”

  Something caught my eye. It looked like an arcade machine with a screen and a joystick.

  Cal saw my interest and said, “That’s what we call a Find-a-Friend. You see that black semi-oval ball atop the soda bar?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “That’s a camera. When turned on, using the stick you can control the camera. You can zoom in and out. We have two more downstairs. Here is where we have the private lounge. These sliding doors give you privacy. We keep this area for the celebrities or other important people.”

  He slid the door and we peeked in. I saw those ultra-comfortable couches lining the wall with a coffee table in the middle. A thirty-inch television was set up facing the couches.

  We went down the stairs and on to the middle of the dance floor. From here I could see how big the place actually was.

  “Eight thousand square feet,” Cal beamed.

  A disco ball hung from the middle. A curved stage was planted facing the mezzanine with, I guess, all the DJ equipment. There were two large video screens on both sides of the stage.

  “There are cameras on either side of the mezzanine,” Cal said. “They are aimed at the stage.”

  “You have a lot of cameras,” Beadsworth commented.

  “It’s an attraction for the public. For us, it’s security. On the left of the stage we have the back entrance and exit for the performers. There is a decent size room for the bands to change or set up or leave their equipment. We never keep this entrance open. This also leads to an exit in the back. On the right we have another emergency exit. There are lots of building codes that need to be followed.”

  “What are those?” I said looking at these small booths behind the chairs.

  “Those are our main attractions. We have one on either side of the floor. They are referred to as interactive zones.” We went to the right side of the floor.

  “This is called the Beam Breaker,” he said.

  I saw a round elevated platform that could maybe hold four people.

  “There are parallel light beams that come down above the participants’ heads. When someone breaks the beams the light sensors detect it and this triggers four to sixteen musical keynotes.” He looked at his watch and then turned to us as if to say the tour was over.

  “Can you show us the other interactive zone?” I asked. Beadsworth gave me a Let’s go look. I shrugged.

  We headed to the left side of the club. “This is the Infrared zone.”

  The platform was elevated but square. It could also hold four people. There was a camera pointing to the platform and a large white blank screen at the back.

  Cal said, “It’s a state-of-the-art infrared video camera. It registers the participant’s body heat and projects the infrared image on to the large screen. The unspoken rule is that if you’re not hot enough, you’re not dancing hard enough. Lots of fun.” He turned to us. “This is the House of Jam. The best entertainment experience in the city.”

  “I would like to experience it, too,” I said.

  “Doors open at eight,” he replied.

  “I’ll come tonight.”

  “Come to the back door and I’ll let you in,” Cal said. “Call me first, okay?”

  FOURTEEN

  They were all in the Lincoln—Ms. Zee, Kong, Joey and Suraj—heading to the House of Jam. Suraj was behind the wheel and he was nervous. He found the Lincoln too big to handle. He would rather be in his Sundance. But there was no way Ms. Zee would allow that. She only went anywhere in the Lincoln.

  Ms. Zee was not in a good mood. It was embarrassing to have to go to your clients and retrieve the samples. Joey yawned beside her. His head was facing the other direction. She was sick of babysitting him.

  Joey yawned again, this one longer and louder. Kong fidgeted on the front passenger seat. At first Ms. Zee had refused to bring Joey along but he begged her. It had been a while since he’d been outside the lab. He needed some time to relax. So did she. But this was business.

  ***

  When I was all dressed up I looked in the mirror. I was decked out in shiny black boots, brown khakis, a green silk shirt and a smooth artificial leather jacket. I was ready to have fun.

  Barnes was going to pick me up and together we were going to check out the best entertainment experience in town. Beadsworth thought he’d stick out at the House of Jam, or maybe he didn’t like clubs, so he opted to not go. Whatever the reason, I was glad I was going with Barnes. At least I didn’t have to follow someone around. I was the boss. I thought maybe, given the way I was behavin
g earlier, Barnes would consider me his superior.

  As I was touching up my hair there was a honk.

  I rushed out the door and was halfway down the steps when I stopped. I went back up, unlocked, and said, “Goodbye, Mike.” Michael Jordan smiled back at me. He approved of me having fun. He always did.

  When I turned the handle of the main door my landlady peered out. “Jon,” she said, “You’re very busy?”

  “Yeah,” I smiled.

  “You’re eating well?”

  “Yes, great.”

  “Come and have dinner with us tomorrow.”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t have time.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you. Come. I’ll make your favourite dish.”

  “Mechado?” I said, slowly.

  “Yes, mechado.” She smiled.

  When I was first introduced to mechado, a Filipino beef stew, I immediately fell in love with it. Now, whenever I hear the word mechado my taste buds start to water.

  “I will not come for you, but for mechado. Okay?”

  She knew I was joking. “Okay.”

  There was another honk.

  “Gotta go,” I said. “See you tomorrow.”

  Barnes was behind the wheel and he was grinning. “I can’t believe we’ll be going to the House of Jam. Y’know, you’ve gotta be important to get into that place. I tried going the second time. They wouldn’t let me in. I even tried bribing them, but nope, it didn’t work. Can you believe DJ Krash will be playing today? This is awesome.”

  “We’re still on duty,” I said.

  “What if I get lucky?” he smiled devilishly.

  “Your luck will run out if Aldrich hears about this. We’re not authorized to be there. Beadsworth persuaded Garnett to let us go, in the hope we find something.”

  He put the car in gear.

  “Also, don’t get hammered. This is work. And you don’t want to show up the next day with a hangover.”

  “All right, sure,” he said, a little disappointed. “We go in and we scope the place out.”

  “That’s it.” I smiled. “If somehow, out of the blue, we see someone nice, we just get their number. That’s it.”

  “That’s it.” He nodded.

  ***

  It was well past eight in the evening and there was a huge line up outside the House of Jam.

  “There must be a couple of hundred people,” Barnes said as we drove past the waiting people. We went down the block searching for a parking spot. It is all but impossible to find parking in downtown Toronto. I should know; I used to give tickets to those who parked illegally. I was afraid we would have to park in front of the fire hydrant or something.

  It took us twenty minutes but we did find a spot four blocks away from the club.

  “It’ll take us forever to get in with this long line,” Barnes said, concerned.

  I dialed Cal Murray’s number and after a few minutes hung up. “We’re going through the back.”

  When we got there Cal was already waiting for us. I introduced Barnes and we went up the stairs.

  “You guys go and have fun,” said Cal. “If you need me, I’ll be here.”

  We went through the narrow hall and into the club. I was blown away by the sheer energy of the place. The noise was immense. It had done a three-sixty transformation from the quiet place it was this morning. It was already bustling with people.

  Barnes said something inaudible.

  “What?” I yelled.

  He leaned closer. “This is what I’m talking about.”

  “How ’bout we split up. You stay up here and I’ll go down. If you see anything you ring me.” I was yelling hard.

  “Sure,” he yelled back.

  I moved forward and made my way to the railing of the mezzanine. Below there was a good crowd on the dance floor. On the stage DJ Krash was mixing feverishly. He was wearing a white cap and a black t-shirt. A pair of headphones was around his neck. The crowd was into the music. I think it was retro or contemporary—but what the hell did I know. Different coloured lights beamed down on to the dancers.

  I was getting into the music too. Involuntarily, my head started bopping to the beat. I made my way down through the right side stairs. There were a lot of people and a lot of girls. Now I knew why Barnes wanted to come here.

  A few people had taken spots on the Beam Breaker.

  I danced—if you call shaking your body in different directions dancing—my way to the stage. DJ Krash was focused on mixing records on the turntables. For a split second he looked up and when he saw me he smiled.

  I felt important. I knew the DJ.

  ***

  The Lincoln turned off Queen Street West and headed south. It turned into a dark alley and parked in a lot that could hold eight to ten cars. It was the parking lot of the House of Jam: reserved for the owners and its guests.

  Ms. Zee dialed a number and Cal answered.

  “We’re coming to see you, Cal,” she said.

  “But…but…” Cal started.

  “We’ll only be there for a few minutes,” she said.

  “No. Come back later,” he said firmly.

  “We’re outside your door,” she said.

  Defeated, Cal said, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

  The back door swung open. Cal was not happy to see them, but he managed a smile.

  All four of them followed Cal to his office. Suraj and Joey headed out to the club.

  “What can I do for you?” said Cal, getting behind his desk.

  “We want the samples back,” Ms. Zee said. Kong was with her in the room.

  “What samples?”

  “The samples of the drug.”

  “Um…” Cal put his fingers to his lips. “I disposed of them right after you left.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Ms. Zee answered.

  “Don’t, but it wouldn’t do me any good to keep them. What if the cops found the drugs? They’d shut the place down.” Cal leaned forward. “Why do you want it back anyways?”

  “The samples are not to our liking.”

  “And why is that?”

  “We have our reasons,” Ms. Zee said.

  Not satisfied, Cal said, “Let me ask you this and tell me honestly. Will you have the drug or not?”

  “We will,” she said.

  ***

  I went to the bar and ordered a ginger ale. I nearly choked when the bartender told me it was three dollars. It was ginger ale, not imported wine. Disgruntled, I headed for the chairs lined around the dance floor. This would be a good spot to scope out the place. It had an indescribable energy. I could see why this was the club to be at. The Beam Breaker already had a line-up. They all wanted to try it out.

  I already had a personal tour.

  A girl walked up to me. She smiled and said, “Buy you a drink?”

  “No thanks, already bought one,” I said raising my glass of ginger ale.

  Her face turned sour and she left.

  I took a sip and then realized what a dope I was. The girl was interested in me and I turned her down. I looked around, hoping to find her again.

  I forgot my glass and headed in the direction she’d gone. There were too many people and searching for her was like trying to find a toothpick in a stack of toothpicks. I thought of the Find-a-Friend. I went to the machine but changed my mind when I saw two huge guys with cut-off tank tops, which by the way revealed well muscled arms, standing in front of the machine having a good time. I didn’t want to disturb them. That wouldn’t be polite. I went back to my chair.

  As I got near I saw a white kid with shaggy hair sitting on my chair.

  “That’s my glass,” I said pointing to a half-empty glass perched on the rail.

  “Sorry,” the kid apologized. “I didn’t know someone was sitting here.”

  “That’s okay,” I leaned over to retrieve my drink.

  The guy next to us suddenly got up and left. I think DJ Krash was playing his music. I took the empty se
at and turned to the kid.

  “Hey, I’m Jeff,” the kid said, offering his hand.

  ***

  “If what you’re saying is true,” Cal said. “Then this new drug will be huge.”

  “Very,” Ms. Zee reiterated.

  “Then I would like a piece of the profit.”

  Ms. Zee was taken back a little. In their previous meetings he was ardently against them opening shop in his establishment. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

  “I cannot completely stop drugs from entering my club. If I join you I can control exactly what gets in and what gets out.” This sounded like perfect business. “On top of that, I can make some money.”

  Ms. Zee seemed pleased. “How much are we talking about?”

  “Fifty-fifty,” Cal said.

  “No,” Ms. Zee was a good negotiator. “Thirty-Seventy.”

  “Fifty-fifty. House of Jam is the place to be in Toronto—fifty-fifty it is.”

  “Thirty-five-sixty-five.”

  “No. In my place you’ll have more returning clients than anywhere else.”

  “Forty-sixty.”

  “Also,” Cal leaned for his final kill. “If I get raided I’ll lose everything.”

  “All right. Fifty-fifty,” she said. House of Jam was the place to start a venture. It was also good business, considering she did not have the drug yet.

  ***

  “I’m Jon Rupret,” I shook his hand. “R before E.”

  He thought about it, “Not Rupert but Rupret. Interesting.” He moved his head up and down.

  “You got it.” I took a sip of my drink.

  “Hey, wait a minute.” He narrowed his eyes as if he was trying to locate something in his head. “Aren’t you the guy who messed up the drug squad investigation last year?”

  I couldn’t believe he recognized me.

  “Yeah, you are that guy,” he concluded.

  I hung my head and took another sip.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I would have done the same thing. You did your job.”

  “I did,” I said. “So you come here often?” I asked.

  “Naw, whenever I get the chance. How about you?”