Race (28 page)

LLPM Imports & Exports were not acquiring used clothing from the Goodwill and Salvation Army and sending them to third-world countries; they were pirating DVDs.
 
At their location in Scarborough they were copying thousands of titles and shipping them to a warehouse in Niagara Falls before sending them across the border into the United States.

We were on a wrong trail from the beginning.
 

Yes, we had suspicions about the late night deliveries.
 
Yes, we did stop an illegal operation, but we were nowhere closer to RACE.

This made my head hurt even more.
 

I tried changing positions but even that became difficult.
 
My head was throbbing.
 
I forced myself up, took one aspirin, and was back on the sofa.
 

***

The process was in motion. Things were happening fast.
 
Orders were sent out for liquid nitrogen freezing tunnels, blister packs, refrigerated cabinets, and freeze-dryers.
 

Money was switching hands quickly, but Ms. Zee didn’t care.
 

Burrows entered the room.
 
“How long before we’re set?” he asked.
 
He was eager to begin.

“In a day or two,” Ms. Zee said.
 
“It will take time to acquire the equipment from our sources.”

She was surprised at how well Burrows had adapted into the organization.
 

Joey walked into the room.
 
He scratched his shaggy hair and slumped down on a chair.
 

She dismissed Burrows, and said, “Is something wrong?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”
 
He didn’t look at her directly.
 
“I was thinking…” he let his words trail off.

She waited.

“After you have
Nex
…I…I want to leave.”

“Of course,” she said.

“I mean…I don’t want any trouble.
 
I just want to do my job and leave and get on with my life.”

“Of course.”

“I also need some money.”

“How much?”

“Three thousand,” he said, swallowing.

“Of course.”

He nodded and got up.
  
“I’ll go see if Ed needs help or something.”

She said nothing.

***

Joey closed the door and paused.
 
He didn’t really think Ms. Zee would let him walk away.
 
That was not how it worked.
  
Once
Nex
was complete his life would be in danger.
 
He hadn’t thought that when he had first started.
  
But his mind changed when Armand disappeared.
  
Joey was sure Armand had been killed.

Ever since Burrows arrived, Joey could sense his worth declining.
  
Burrows liked to work alone.
 
He rarely asked Joey for his opinions.
 
Even if Joey had opinions, Burrows shrugged them off.
 
Armand was not like that.
 
Armand didn’t like him, but at least he let him do his job.
  

Joey had to get away and he had to get some place safe.
 

***

There was a knock at the door.
 

My eyes opened.
 
I was still on the sofa.
 
The VCR clock blinked 11:05 AM.
 

More knocking.
  

I forced myself up and dragged myself to the door.
  
I opened it.
 
It was
Beadsworth
.

“It’s early,” I said.
  

Without saying a word he entered.

I went back to the sofa.
 
My head hurt worse.
 
The noise from the door had given me a migraine.
 
“Pass me the aspirins,” I said, lying down.
 

Beadsworth
went into the kitchen and returned with my order. I took another pill.

He sat down.
 
“I was going to bring you flowers but…”

“But you didn’t,” I said.

He nodded.

“Good. I’m not dying and I don’t care.”

He unbuttoned his coat, sat down, and crossed his legs.
 

“So what’s up?” I said.

“I just returned from the meeting and Aldrich has halted the operation.”

“What? He can’t do that.”

“He can and he did.”

“We did stop an illegal operation.”

“The Chief was not happy with our progress.
 
Valuable resources are being wasted, she said.
 
The investigation into the drug squad is already in the media and the Chief doesn’t want any more publicity.”

“This is bullshit, you know?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then how are we supposed to do our job?”

“We are not,” he said with a hint of a smile.

“What?”
         

He said, “I spoke to Detective Herrera and he told me Constable Barnes is doing much better.
 
He doesn’t remember much from that night but he’s slowly recovering.”

“That’s good to hear.” I closed my eyes and then opened them. “You know,” I started.
 
“I’ve been meaning to ask, was there really money missing from the fink fund?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“I read in the papers it was like over twenty thousand.”

“More like forty.”

“Wow,” I said.
 
“I guess those drug squad guys do deserve the heat they are getting.”

“Why would you say that?” he said.
 

I sensed
Beadsworth
was defensive.

“I—I mean how can you lose forty grand?” I said.

“Simple,” he answered.

I waited.

He crossed his other leg and said, “Let me explain, this is how it is supposed to work and I hope you see a flaw in this.
 
An officer receives information from an informant and decides what this information is worth.
 
To pay this informant the officer gets approval from his supervisor, then goes to the cashier’s office and collects the money.
 
The officer then gets the informant to sign his
real
name for the money, which at the time is witnessed by a second officer.”

I didn’t see a flaw.
 
It sounded reasonable to me.

“This is how it works in the real world: the cashier’s office is open only during normal business hours but the officer needs the cash during off hours.
 
Also, the informant will not, under any circumstance, sign his real name.
 
Remember, most informants only offer information when they need money and most of them have lengthy criminal records, which means they are not very trustworthy.
 
Officers must rely on their judgment when dealing with these people.
 

“In order to further the investigation, the officer will pay the informant from his own pocket.
  
Under certain situations the officer may credit payments to one informant but in fact be paying to another as the informant refuses to sign for it.
 
Also, if an officer is working undercover and is alone, it is very difficult to have another officer as a witness.
 
Don’t you agree?”

I nodded. That made more sense.

We both fell silent.

“What do we do now?” I said, wiggling my attractive toes.

“We wait, I suppose,” he replied.

“What about me?”

“You will rest and after…” he paused.

“After what?”

“You go back to parking enforcement.”

I didn’t protest.
 
All this was taking a toll on me—physically and emotionally.
  
It would be nice to go back.
 
Sergeant Motley would welcome me with open arms.

I really missed giving out parking tickets.
 
Except for the occasional irate driver, the job was primarily safe.
 
I never had to see a co-worker get hurt, or see myself get hurt, for that matter.
 

“When can I go back?”

“You’re very eager?”

“Yes…and…like I said before, I don’t know why I’m in this team in the first place.”

“I think I know why,” he said. But before I could say something he stood up, “I read your file and it said you worked in the Guelph Police Services and particularly in the drugs and intelligence unit. Is this correct?”

I was ready to say yes but then thought about it.
 
I was already being punished by the powers-that-be.
 
No point in prolonging it.
 
“I did work there,” I said. “But not in that unit.”

“May I ask in what capacity, then?”

“Keying and filing.”

Beadsworth
did a double-take. “I beg your pardon?”

“I was an assistant to the records and data manager.”
 
I turned my head away. “I entered criminal records into the computer and filed them away.”

I heard him say, “hmm.”

I felt ashamed.

He then said, “I must go.”

“Where to?” I turned back to him.

“Back to 23 Division.”

***

Ms. Zee stared at the small clear container that held the white tablets.
 
Nex
would give her the power to control Toronto.
 

And they
would
expand.
 

She was determined to make it an empire.
 
A business empire.

Nex
was for lawyers, judges, doctors, politicians; yes, people with power would use
Nex
.
 
Make people with influence dependent on
Nex
and you would control the city.

Her mind drifted to another thought.
 
Joey.

She was going to miss him.
 
She had given Kong the green light to get rid of him.
 
Kong was pleased.
 
Hause
would dump the body in the Scarborough Bluffs.
    

Many mistakes had been made in the beginning.
 
Trusting Armand, hiring Joey, these were crucial mistakes.
  
Now she was going to have none.

The door flew open.

Hause
entered, huffing and puffing.
 

“What’s wrong?” she demanded, infuriated at being disturbed.

“He’s gone,” he said.

“Who’s gone?”’

“Joey.”

“Gone where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did you search everywhere?”

“I checked the entire building. Kong is doing another sweep.”