Race (23 page)

“It’s not working,” he said.
 
He tapped the meter.

“Yeah, right,” I said.
 
“Let me see.” I leaned over and began poking into the small machine.
 

“No,” he protested.
 
“It will break.”

“I thought it was broken,” I said.
 

“Yes, but it will break more.”

“Turn it on.” I was now serious.

He hesitated.
 

“Now.”

He complied.

“Good,” I said falling onto the back seat.

“Something wrong?” he said.
 
“You don’t look good.”

“Just that one of my co-workers was brutally beaten and of course I’m the one to blame.
 
Also, I’m going nowhere in the force. In fact, I might just quit the force all together.
 
Apart from that, everything is great.
 
How ’bout you?”

He narrowed his eyes and through the rear-view mirror looked at me hard.
 
“You’re making jokes, yes?
 
You call it
sarkasim
.”

“Sarcasm,” I corrected him.
 
“And no, I’m not joking.
 
Mahmud, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Your covert operation not going good?” he asked.

“Not exactly.”

“You’re not beating evil people?”

“No.
 
It looks like they’re beating us.”

“You know what you need?”

“What?”

“
Chai
.”

“What?”

“Indian tea.
 
That’s what you need.
 
Hot cup of
chai
.”

I just shrugged.
 
I wasn’t a tea drinker.

“Come, I’ll take you to a place where they make the best
chai
.”

“Maybe later. I need time to collect myself.”

“Collect?” he said.

“Time to think.”

“Yes.”

***

I leaned back and closed my eyes.
 
One camera tape from the House of Jam was missing.
 
My gut told me it was the very same tape that had recorded the attack on Barnes.
 
My gut also said that something was happening behind my back.
 
Something that I was not supposed to know.
  
What could it be?

Why was I brought into Operation Anti-RACE?
 
I was the very person who had ruined another drug investigation? Also, I was not even a constable.
  
There must be more qualified officers than me.
  
Of course, there
are
more qualified officers than me.
   

Maybe, just maybe, I was brought in because I was an outsider: a civilian officer.
 
Aldrich had said
there would be a lot demanded of me and that he hoped I was prepared for it
.
 
What did he mean?
 
Prepared for what?
 
Did Aldrich have plans for me?
 
If so, what plans?
 
If I was brought in from outside, there must be something for me to uncover.
 

“There is an old saying,” Mahmud said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
 
“We dug out a mountain but discovered only a small mouse.”

I thought about it.
  
I had no idea what that meant.

“Your big problem may only need a simple solution.”

I nodded.
 
“I hope so.” I gave Mahmud an address in Scarborough.

I told him to park a block away.
 
He parked and said, “That will be twenty-two dollars and seventy-five cents.”

I shoved my hand into my pockets and could just manage thirteen dollars.
 
“Do you know what IOUs are?” I said, embarrassed.
 
Here I was forcing him to turn on the meter and I didn’t have enough money to pay him.

“Don’t worry,” he said.
 
“If you don’t pay next time I will follow you and
for real
run you over.”
 
He smiled.

“Thanks, buddy.” I patted him on the shoulder.
 
“You’re now officially my best friend.”

***

I found
Beadsworth
sitting in the car.
  
I tapped on the passenger-side window. He unlocked and I got in.
  
He was going over some papers that looked like a child had written on them.

“My son’s homework,” he said, realizing I was staring.
 
“Just making sure it’s correct.”

“Sure,” I said.

I stared out to the building across while he continued double-checking the papers.
  
I kind of admired him for that.
 
He seemed like a devoted family man.
 

“One boy and one girl?” I asked.

He looked up from the sheet of paper. “Two boys.”

“Which one got hurt?” I asked.

He thought about it and then realized what I was talking about, “Noel—he’s the oldest—he broke his arm.
 
He’s a goalie in his school’s soccer team.
 
Then there’s baby Liam.”

“How old is Liam?”

“Five months.”

I moved my head up and down, not knowing what else to say.

After a few seconds of silence he went back to the papers.

I glanced at the building across and all looked normal.
 

“Where’s
Nemdharry
and Terries?” I asked.

“Every morning a U-Haul truck drives into the back of the building and leaves shortly after.
 
Today, Constable Terries followed it to Hamilton.
 
Detective
Nemdharry
just went to meet her.
 
We’re waiting to hear from them.”

There was a loud tap at the window.

I started.

I looked over at
Beadsworth
, who was rolling down the glass. A man was leaning down, smiling.

“I saw you working behind the wheel,” the man said.
 
“Just thought I’d give you a surprise.”

The man had smooth light brown skin and a long ponytail.

“You got my message, David?”
Beadsworth
said.

“Sure did,” the man answered.
 

Beadsworth
introduced me.
 
“This is Officer Jon
Rupret
.
 
This is Detective David
Longfoot
.”

The man leaned in, extended past
Beadsworth
, and shook my hand.
 
Suddenly, his smile faded.
 
“Aren’t you—”

“—David, we have a lot to talk about,”
Beadsworth
interjected.
 
“Officer
Rupret
, why don’t you go for a walk?”

“A walk?” I said, confused.

“Yes, check out the area.
 
Familiarize yourself with the surroundings.”
 
Beadsworth
had a broad smile.

“Yeah, sure,” I said, and got out.

SEVENTEEN

There was definitely something happening behind my back.

I should have protested.
 
I was on duty. I had every right to not go for a walk.
  
Whatever they had to discuss they could do so with me.
 
But I decided against it.
  
I was now infamous for ruining the drug squad investigation and I sensed Detective
Longfoot
had recognized me.
 

I walked east, not knowing where else to go.
 

Scarborough is very multicultural.
  
There are a lot of ethnic stores.
 
I passed by a Sri Lankan clothing store.
 
A barber shop—with Chinese barbers.
  
An electronic shop…looked like owned by East Indians.
  
A bubble-tea store, probably owned…hey, it was the same one I wanted to try out with Detective Terries.
 

I leaned on the window and took a peek.
  
The interior looked cozy.

***

Martin was in the basement of the BUBBLE T SHOP.
 
The heavy metal door to the entrance of the basement was secured and locked.
 
Only he and Ms. Zee had keys.

Martin was not happy.
 
The pill-making machines were sitting idle.
 
After a lengthy meeting with Ms. Zee it was decided capsules were the direction they would go.
  

According to the initial plan they would have been producing thousands of pills each and every hour.
  

He circled the machines, scooping the dust with his finger.
  
So many hidden meetings, so many bribes, so many lies went into acquiring these machines.
 
Now, they sat with no use.
 
Maybe he could sell them, but to whom?
 

Martin found a chair and sat down.
 

He adjusted his tie.
  
He had come to the conclusion that Ms. Zee would never have
Nex
.
           
She was paying him well, and she trusted him, but that wouldn’t last very long.
  
Once the money ran out she’d turn on him—just like she did on Armand.
That fool!
    

They were all fools for believing him.

Martin sighed. He had also believed Armand.
 
His shoulders slumped. He had to find a way out.
  
This bubble-tea venture was his idea.
 
It was only to serve as a disguise for the production of
Nex
.
  
Several others would be up and running in a matter of weeks.

Once money ran out, Kong would have his head.

***

I entered the shop.
 
The place was dim.
 
Tables and chairs lined the middle with couches and other seating to the side.
  
There were a few people sitting and talking.
  
Music piped from the corners of the walls.
   
A friendly and welcoming atmosphere, if I may say so.

I headed straight toward an Asian girl.
 

“Hi, welcome to the BUBBLE T SHOP.
 
My name is Susan.
 
How may I help you?” she said with a pierced tongue.
 

“Um, yes,” I smiled, looking intently at the menu on the wall behind her.
 
There were so many names I didn’t recognize.
 

“What would you like?” she said.

“No clue.”

“First time at a bubble-tea café?”

“Yes, what is bubble tea anyways?” I inquired.

“It’s simply tea mixed with tapioca pearls.
 
We have it in several flavors: passion fruit, strawberry, mango, taro, honeydew, kiwi.”

“I’ll take strawberry, please,” I said, not wanting her to recite the entire menu.