Race (35 page)

“Understand what?” I said confused.

“Don’t worry, Officer
Rupret
,” he said reassuringly.
 
“I know people that can help you.”

“Mahmud,” I said.
 
“What are you talking about?’

“You don’t need to drive taxi.
 
You’re still a young man.
 
Driving taxi is not good.”
           
“But…”

“I will call
Lateef
—he works downtown—a good man,” Mahmud said. “He will help you find a job.”

“I don’t need a job,” I nearly yelled.

“What?” he replied, eyeing me through the rear-view mirror.
 
“You can’t make money without a job?”

I started to laugh.
 
“You think I want your taxi because I need money?”

He slowly moved his head up and down.
 
“That is why I drive taxi.
 
Why else?”

“It’s for my investigation.”

After a brief pause a smile crossed his face.
 
“You want to go undercover.
 
Yes?”

“Exactly,” I said.
 
“It’s only for a short while.”

“No problem.
 
When do you need it?”

“Around six.”

***

Mahmud dropped me off at the corner of College Street and
McCaul
.
  
His fare, a middle-age couple, was waiting for him.
 
I had insisted he take the fare; I was going to be using his taxi later.
 
I waved him goodbye and then realized I was standing in front of the Toronto Police Headquarters.
 
I doubled back and hurried around the corner.
 
I moved as far away from the main entrance as possible.
 
I had no desire to go inside.
 
I was supposed to be recovering from my tragedy.

I was walking as fast as my feet would allow when up ahead a police cruiser emerged from the headquarters underground parking lot.
 
I lowered my head and continued walking.
 
I was not going to slow down and wait for the cruiser to pass me—that would mean stopping.
 

As I passed the cruiser, there was a loud honk that nearly threw me off my feet.
 
I looked back and saw to my surprise, Constable Clara Terries.
  
“Officer
Rupret
,” she said.

I walked over to the driver’s side.
 

“Hey, how are you doing?” I said.

“Not bad,” she said.

A male officer sat beside her, and for some unexplainable reason I was glad he looked much, much older than her.
 

She introduced him but I didn’t remember his name.
 
I think I chose not to remember his name.

“I heard what happened,” she said.
 

I shrugged, as if these things happened to me all the time.
 

“So what are you doing now?” I asked.

“I’m back on patrol,” she said.
 
“Get to wear my uniform again”

“I can see that.”
 

The radio dispatcher cut through.
  
There was a ten-something in progress.
 

“We should go,” she said.
 
“I was thinking, Officer
Rupret
, maybe we could talk some time, if you like?”

“Yeah, I would like that very much.
 
And it’s Jon.”

“Bye, Jon,” she said with a smile.

The sirens came on and the cruiser sped away.

***

Ed Burrows burst through the door.
 
He was upset and he was angry.
 
Ms. Zee looked up from her desk.
 
He stormed toward her, his size threatening.
 
Kong moved in his direction but Ms. Zee raised her hand.
 
He retreated.
 

“This is unacceptable,” he bellowed.

“What is?” she said calmly.

“Everything.
 
How can I produce something as sensitive as
Nex
with this primitive technology.”

 
She waited.

“The equipment is outdated.
 
What we have are rejects from defunct pharmaceutical laboratories.
 
The blender doesn’t dissolve the active ingredients properly.
 
One of the freezing tunnels refuses to stay at the required temperature.
 
Several of the freeze-dryers discontinue functioning in the middle of the process—rendering large batches of
Nex
useless.
 
It has to be precise.
 
I refuse to work under these conditions.”

Ms. Zee listened and then said, “Mr. Burrows, time and constraints did not allow us to acquire…state-of-the-art machines.”
 

“Without them I cannot ensure a stable and functional product.”

“You must try,” she pleaded.
 

“It cannot be done.”

“Yes it can, in experienced hands such as yours.”

That was a boost to Burrows ego and Ms. Zee continued.
 
“You have the opportunity to create something that—” she was searching for the exact words, “will benefit so many people.”

“But…”

“So much pain will be relieved because of your desire and determination.”

He was glowing.
  
     

She smiled.
 
“I promise.
 
Soon you’ll have your state-of-the-art equipment.
 
But right now you must use your energy in producing
Nex
.”

He seemed more agreeable.
 
“The building doesn’t even have sufficient airflow systems to ensure product purity.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when we search for another location.”

He thanked her and left.

TWENTY-SIX

I sat inside Mahmud’s taxi not far from Regent Park.
 
To fit the role of a taxi driver I had asked Mahmud to lend me his Blue Jays cap.
 

It had gotten dark very fast and the street was only occupied by the occasional passer-by.

I got out and went in the direction of the brown building.
 
The poor lighting on the street concealed me.
 
I found a white BMW in a lone corner spot.
 
Earlier, Marcus had emerged from the vehicle and gone inside.
 

I looked around. There was a group of kids bouncing basketballs heading in the other direction.
 
I knelt, took another look, and began releasing air from the tires.
 
When I was on the third tire there was a sudden noise. Startled, I turned around, with fists raised, ready to fight.
 
There was no one there.
 
It was only the streetcar in the distance, going east on
Gerrard
.

I finished my task and headed back.
 
Once I got inside the taxi I began to fully breathe again.
 
My shirt was soaked from sweat and I tried to air it dry.
 
While I was breathing deeply a man in a suit got inside the taxi.

“University Avenue and Edward Street,” the man said.

I slowly turned.

“University Avenue,” he repeated.

“Sir, I’m waiting for a customer,” I said.

“Where is he?”

“Who?” I said.

“Your customer.”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

“Get out,” I said.

“That’s not fair,” he said.

“What’s not fair?”

“I shouldn’t have to find another taxi if the guy you’re waiting for doesn’t even show up.”

Actually, the man did have a point.
 
My imaginary customer had no respect for my job as a driver, or for this man.

“How about this,” I said.
 
“I’ll give you five bucks and you go find another taxi?”

He thought about it.
 
“You’re serious?”

I pulled out a blue
coloured
piece of paper and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said.
 
“I hope your customer comes soon.”

I hoped so too.

***

I waited…and
waited…and
waited, until I could no longer wait.
 

Hours had gone by.
 
No sign of Marcus.
 
I turned the ignition and headed toward the building.
 
I drove slowly.
  
The BMW sat airless on the right.
 
I moved past it, when suddenly the door of the brown building swung open and a suited man came out, followed by the unmistakable fur-coat-man.
 

I kept driving at a snail’s pace, away from them.
 
Through the rear-view mirror I saw Marcus look agitated.
 
He began yelling at his bodyguard, for obvious reasons.
 

I was in the parking lot of an adjacent building when I saw Marcus look in my direction.
 
He raised his hands and waved to me. I stopped.
Oh, crap
.
  

I did a three-sixty-turn and headed back.
 

I halted two feet from him.
 
He rushed over.

“You here to pick someone up?” he said.

“Um…yeah.
 
I got a call to come down, but all the buildings look the same,” I said.

“I’ll give you fifty bucks if you take me to Queen and
Coxwell
,” he said.

“Sure,” I said.

He turned and told his bodyguard to have the BMW fixed immediately.

He got in and I eased the taxi onto
Gerrard
.

“You’re not going to start the meter?” he said from behind.

I eyed the machine carefully and then pressed a button.
 
Red numeric digits appeared.

We were going east when I said, “So, how about the weather, eh?”

“What about the weather?” he said annoyed.

“I…I mean…it’s nice,” I stumbled.

“Yeah,
so
.”

“I can tell you’re not a big weather fan.”

“It’s all the same.”

That’s probably because you wear a fur coat all the time
.

“How about those Blue Jays, eh?” I said.

“You
gonna
talk all through the ride?”

“Just trying to make small talk,” I said.

“Don’t,” he shot back.
 
“Just drive.”

I didn’t have much time.
 
This wasn’t a long ride, anyways, so I dove in.

“You a drug dealer?”

Through the rear-view mirror I could see his face contort.
 

I said, “Yeah, you are.
 
I saw you in the papers.” I lied.