Race Page 4

  She sighed.

  This was not going as planned. She knew they had successfully created the drug at Bantam, and she’d been certain they’d have the prototype by now. Different versions were already sent out to potential buyers. But nothing could happen until she had one that was as potent and lethal as they had claimed it would be.

  There were so many pressures. She rubbed her temples. So many forces were pushing her in all directions. But if her plan worked, she could control the entire city.

  Kong crossed his arms. She understood. He was unhappy about Joey.

  No, Kong,” she said, still not looking away from the window. “We cannot kill him.”

  Kong snorted his disapproval.

  “Not just yet. We need someone else who can continue the work.”

  Two men entered the room. She turned. One was white and the other brown. The white man had limp blond hair, as if he’d just come out of the shower, and a long goatee. He looked like someone who was used to taking orders. The brown man had a flat boxer’s nose and earrings in both ears. He looked like someone who would rather spend time with his car then people.

  “It’s done,” said the white man.

  She had sent them to dispose of Armand’s body.

  “Where?” she asked.

  “Scarborough Bluffs,” the white man answered.

  “Good.”

  Another man entered. He was wearing a blue striped business suit; stylish round spectacles were propped up on his nose, and his hair was gelled back.

  “Ms. Zee,” said Martin, her lawyer and business advisor. “You do remember your meeting today?”

  Ms. Zee nodded. “Yes.” She turned to the white man. “Hause, you’ll be with us and,” She turned to the brown man, “Suraj, you’ll follow behind.”

  Kong made a noise.

  “Kong,” Ms. Zee turned to him. “You’ll stay here and watch Joey.”

  He grunted.

  “You will behave yourself,” she said.

  He was not happy.

  “When I come back Joey better be in one piece.”

  FIVE

  I looked at my watch and realized I had only forty minutes. I drove back home, changed quickly into a blue shirt, cargo pants, and a brown jacket, and left without saying goodbye to Michael Jordan.

  As I was out the door I saw my landlady on top of the roof.

  What the hell?

  “Morning,” I yelled.

  “Hello, Jon,” she said, waving.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning the gutter, too many dirty leaves is not good. Rain makes problems.”

  I understood. The leaves were clogging the trough.

  “Be careful. You don’t want to fall.”

  “I’ll be okay.” She smiled.

  Damn. Damn. Damn.

  My mother always taught me to help others, especially if they are your sixty-one-year-old landlady.

  I grabbed the ladder and got on top of the roof.

  “Where’s David?” I said.

  “He’s gone to work,” she replied.

  “You go down,” I said pointing.

  “No, no. It’s okay. I can do it.”

  “No. I’ll clean everything but you don’t come up.” I felt obligated to do it right then because earlier I had complained about a leaky roof. She climbed down.

  I grabbed a plastic bag, and gathered all the nearly decomposed leaves. Once I was satisfied the trough was cleared I came down.

  “Jon, I can do it,” she said.

  “You call David next time,” I said and left.

  ***

  I drove straight to the Central Field Command Headquarters. Inside, I was directed to a room.

  I gently tapped.

  The door swung open and a huge man with spiked hair stood facing me. “You’re late,” he growled.

  “Old lady…roof…leaves…”

  “Get in,” he said.

  The room was bare, with ten or twelve chairs, facing a large board. At the front, a man paced impatiently. There were six other people sitting, as if waiting for something…or someone.

  The man stopped pacing and stood with his chest and shoulders high, like a proud general before his troops. He had blond hair, a thin golden moustache, and an upward pointy nose.

  “We can finally begin,” he said, looking in my direction.

  What a happy start.

  I took the nearest seat.

  The blond man crossed his hands on his back and began, “I’m Detective Sergeant Andrew Aldrich. Last night I received a call from the Chief to lead a new task force. Most of you know that our drug squad is going through a tough period and will not be fully functional until the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) completes its investigation. But that does not mean our battle with drugs and narcotics ceases. That is why you were called in to this new task force—to stop this new group that threatens our fine city. You’re all here because you’ve shown interest in fighting drugs…”

  I looked around. What interest? No one had asked me.

  “…You’ve shown interest in being part of this unit. While others.” He looked in my direction. “Needed to be persuaded.”

  I was so tempted to give him the middle finger.

  Aldrich turned and nodded. The guy with the spiked hair removed a large piece of paper from a yellow file and stuck it on the board.

  “Thank you, Detective Garnett,” said Aldrich.

  Garnett? Ronald Garnett? This was going to be exciting. I could see he and I being great friends.

  It was a blown-up photo of three men. One was white; the second looked Asian and the third brown. They were standing outside of what looked like a dance club.

  “What’s wrong with this photograph?” Aldrich asked. “Please raise your hands and introduce yourself first.”

  A hand shot up. “Constable Clara Terries, Community Patrol, 51 Division. The three men in question are dealing drugs,” she said.

  “Good guess, but not quite,” replied Aldrich with a smile.

  Another hand shot up. “Constable Michael Barnes, Neighborhood Crime Unit, 31 Division. They are recruiting.”

  “Definitely no. ”

  A third hand shot up. “Detective Carlos Herrera, Street Crime, 41 Division. They belong to a gang.”

  “Yes, but something else.”

  I could tell Aldrich was enjoying this.

  There were three people left and I was one of them. I had no intention of raising my hand.

  Another hand came up. “Detective Simon Nemdharry, Plainclothes, 21 Division. They are looking for potential areas to set up shops.”

  “That is definitely a possibility, Detective. But not quite what I was looking for.”

  Aldrich was waiting for me.

  His stare was burning into me. I slowly raised my hand. “Jon Rupret, Parking Enforcement, no division. A black guy is missing.”

  My answer was not very popular with Sergeant Aldrich. “Not even close, Officer Rupert.”

  Rupert? I exploded, “It’s Rupret. R before the E.”

  “Yes, that’s what I said.” Aldrich’s features remained calm. “And the next time address me with sir.”

  He waited. My beautiful black skin was turning an ugly red.

  “Yes, sir,” I said between clenched teeth.

  “Good.”

  My middle finger was itching to introduce itself to Aldrich. Such an introduction at this stage would be damaging to my career. So I controlled myself, and my finger.

  Aldrich smiled at the last person, who was sitting behind me. I turned to have a look at him. The man was wearing a brown three-piece suit, had dark, neatly combed hair and a trimmed beard. He looked snobbish to me. Come to think of it, everyone who wears a suit looks snobbish to me, so what do I know.

  He responded in an accent I couldn’t figure out. “Detective Phillip Beadsworth, Plainclothes and Drugs, 23 division. The three individuals come from different ethnic affiliated gangs and are now members of this new group
.”

  “Very good, Detective.” Aldrich smiled.

  Jeez. I could have thought of that.

  Aldrich said, “At first glance you wouldn’t think they are associated. But they are.” He paused. “We are used to dealing with the Colombian Cartels, the Chinese Triads, the Italian Mafia, or the Jamaican Posse—with individuals who associated themselves with a group, most of the time race being the main factor. You were only allowed to join if you were of certain class, certain colour, certain religion, or from a certain country.” Aldrich turned to the picture. “This group does not discriminate. We have been able to gather some information on these individuals—but nothing too conclusive, I’m afraid. The gentleman on the far left goes by the name of Hause.” Aldrich was referring to the white guy. “He used to belong to a group of skinheads, who, a few years ago, were involved in massive robberies of retail stores along Yonge Street. The second individual.” Aldrich was now onto the brown guy. “Goes by several names, some of which are Mandeep, Suraj, and Brown Sugar.” Aldrich raised his eyebrows. “Mr. Sugar belonged to a group called Desi Thugz. They primarily sold drugs to high school students in Scarborough. The third individual…” Now we were at the Asian guy….“Goes by the name of Kong, but we do not have any relevant information on him.” Aldrich turned back to us. “My guess would be he worked with the Chinese Triad, but that would only be a guess.”

  Aldrich nodded to Garnett. Garnett placed another sheet of paper on the board. The paper contained four letters: RACE.

  “Radical Association of Criminal Ethnicities,” Aldrich said. “Hence, welcome to this new task force: Operation Anti-RACE.”

  Aldrich paused and let everyone digest this new wave of information.

  “We believe this group was started right here in Toronto. The organizers are from this city—your city. We believe this organization will expand within weeks, even months. It will move to other major cities in Canada. Montreal, Ottawa, Vancouver, all over. It could even expand to the United States. Our mandate is to quickly search, locate, and shut down this group. The pressure is on us. If this group expands there’s no telling where it’ll go. Right now, this group is small.”

  A hand shot up. Carlos Herrera. “What does this group deal in?”

  “A very good question and I’m glad you asked it,” said Aldrich. “Gangs prefer to have a niche in the market and they protect this niche. The Italian Mafia deals in gambling and prostitution; Colombian Cartels: cocaine; Jamaican Posse: crack; Chinese Triads: Heroin. They don’t and won’t allow anyone to enter their market. When a new group tries to enter their turf, there’s a war. Gang wars are part of their business. RACE knows and understands this very well. They’re not interested in marijuana, crack, cocaine, heroin, Ecstasy or any of the existing drugs. No.

  “They’re interested in creating their own niche. They want to be the sole providers of a new product. They want this new product to be bigger than ecstasy. Our sources, which I’ll mention shortly, tell us that this new drug will be sold like a pill, similar to ecstasy. Which means, once manufactured and distributed, the drug will be harder to catch.”

  Aldrich took a few seconds to collect his thoughts.

  This was way too much information for me. I needed a day.

  “As you all know, the two major stock-market busts in Canada were Nortel and Bre-X. You take the first letter of Nortel and the last letter of Bre-X and you get N-X, or on the street it might come to be known as Nex.” Aldrich picked up a manila folder and retrieved a sheet from it. He glanced at it briefly and then spoke again. “Once swallowed, Nex takes immediate effect. Sources say it explodes inside the human body, similar to how the finances of Nortel and Bre-X did in the stock market. The human nervous system then becomes paralyzed or numb for a short period, maybe seconds, maybe minutes. But for that brief moment, the user will feel such relaxation that I cannot possibly describe it without having experienced it myself.

  “Such a drug can be compared to a painkiller. But it is not. It’s far more dangerous. The sudden shutting of the nervous system can cause heart attacks or seizures. Also, the human system eventually becomes resistant. It takes more and more pills to get that sudden effect. Slowly and gradually the human body begins to lose sensation. The mind and body eventually become anaesthetized, where the habitual users die a slow and horrible death.

  “It’s like a person who has Lou Gehrig’s disease, Alzheimer’s, and multiple sclerosis all at once.”

  I listened attentively. This was serious. What the hell was I doing here?

  A hand shot up. Clara Terries. “Who are the target users?” she asked.

  “Everyone,” answered Aldrich, as if he was proud of this knowledge. “Anyone can use it to cope with stress,” Aldrich continued. “A CEO, who is putting in seventy hours a week, stressed out; he might take a pill. A single mother, unable to handle three children and two jobs, might take one. Teenagers who just want to experiment might take a few and in doing so get addicted. Movie stars, athletes, singers, anyone might be enticed to use it.”

  “How do you know all this?” asked Simon Nemdharry.

  Aldrich crossed his hands behind his back. “One of our undercover officers stumbled upon RACE. At that time the drug squad was maximized in its resources. New investigations were not a priority. But this undercover officer was resilient. He felt that this new discovery could pose a real threat. I authorized the officer to investigate. In a span of four months he began to uncover the inner workings of RACE. They were working on something big. Nex.”

  With a hand raised, Simon Nemdharry said, “Will the undercover officer brief us?”

  “No. There will be no direct contract with the officer,” replied Aldrich.

  Simon Nemdharry waited. We all waited for an explanation.

  Aldrich said, “We will continue our investigation. I know and understand that most of you, except for Detective Beadsworth, are not familiar with drugs and narcotics and, if it were up to me I would wait until the probe into the drug squad was completed before establishing this unit. But, time is not on our side. We believe RACE will bring out Nex into the market within the next few weeks. Once out it’ll be very difficult to control. The chief has requested that this task force be setup and officers outside of the drug squad be brought in.

  “Two weeks ago we received information that prototypes of Nex were produced in the basement of a house in Mississauga. Officers were sent in but found nothing. RACE had moved their laboratory. We believe they are relocating every few weeks until they have a fully potent and effective product.

  “With the internal probe filling the front pages of the newspapers, we cannot let any information regarding this team be known to the public. You are not to contact any officers of the drug squad regarding this unit. This is a classified investigation. You are to report directly to me. Detective Garnett will be assisting me during the investigation and in certain situations he’ll be accompanying you.”

  He looked at the clock and then at us. We were all beat. Or, at least I was.

  “You’re dismissed for lunch. We’ll go over certain things afterward.”

  ***

  I looked at my watch. It was after twelve. My stomach was making ghoulish noises.

  Everyone prepared to leave.

  “Before you go, pick these at the front,” Garnett said, holding papers in the air. “These forms state that you agree to be part of this new unit. Human resources has requested that they be filled out. A technicality. Bring them back after lunch.”

  They all lined up. I waited till the end. I went up and Garnett’s face turned foul. I slowly picked up the forms. He was staring at my every move.

  “Officer Rupert,” I heard Aldrich say.

  I faced him. It’s Rupret, you blonde pompous jackass.

  “Sergeant Motley spoke highly of you,” Aldrich said.

  I bet he did.

  “I like you,” Aldrich said.

  I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “You’
re young.”

  Uh?

  “Imaginative.”

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to fully understand what was coming out of his mouth.

  “Creative.”

  Where was he going with this?

  “Bold.”

  He had lost me.

  “You posses the qualities this unit requires.”

  Oh, right. Why didn’t you just say that?

  “That is why you were chosen. Contrary to what Detective Garnett believes,” Garnett turned his head away, “I think you did the right thing. You showed initiative. Your instincts told you something wasn’t right and you acted. Foolish—procedures are procedures—but gutsy. There will be a lot demanded of you here and I hope you are prepared for it.”

  I nodded, not sure what to say, and left. I went out into the hall and saw the other members gathered together.

  Barnes said, “Come join us for lunch.”

  “Um…I have to make an urgent phone call,” I said

  “Okay. We’ll be in the cafeteria,” he replied.

  With the forms clutched in my hand I headed to the washroom. I splashed my face with cold water and took a deep breath. This was not happening to me.

  SIX

  They were in a white Lincoln with Hause driving and Martin and Ms. Zee in the back. A few cars behind, Suraj was following in his red Sundance.

  “It was difficult to arrange this,” said Martin in his business tone. “He is very anxious.”

  Ms. Zee stared out into the passing streets.

  “It wasn’t wise to get rid of Armand,” he said.

  “He was playing with us,” she said.

  “Who will continue the work?”

  “We’ll find someone.”

  “Ms. Zee, we’ve built three samples, and each time we have failed. It’s bad business when you don’t deliver on your promises.”

  “This is different,” she said.

  “No, it’s not. Business is business. Our associates want to make money. We want to make money.”

  She understood, of course, but had no answer. “How many employees do we have?” she said, to change the subject.

  “Almost twenty. I’ve personally screened each and every one of them. Not one has a criminal record. I’ve registered companies under different aliases and have rented several stores all over the Greater Toronto Area. This will keep the police busy if they are ever onto us. But.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled. “We know that won’t happen, thanks to our friend inside the force. And they are too busy clearing up the mess of the drug squad.”