Race (7 page)

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.