Race

“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 cafe?”

“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.

“Okay.”

I went and sat in the corner facing the doors.

A few minutes later the girl placed a tall glass with a straw on the table. I looked at it. It was sort of pinkish. I took a sip and waited. Then took another sip.

Martin gently shut and locked the metal door and went upstairs. He moved passed Susan and stopped. Sitting in the corner was someone he recognized, sipping a strawberry tea. Yes. He was a police officer.

John Rupert or something along that line was his name. Their informant in the police force had provided names of all the members of Operation Anti-RACE. What was Rupret doing here? Inspecting the premises, perhaps.

There must have been a leak. Someone must have tipped the police. They were after him. No. Stop. He controlled his composure. It was just a coincidence he was here.

Martin took a deep breath. This was absurd. He shouldn’t be acting like this. He was a lawyer, a reputable business advisor. Not a criminal.

Martin relaxed, but tensed up again when, in the distance, he saw Kong get out of his car and approach the shop.

He knew the police had a picture of Kong. If this police officer saw Kong, their cover might be blown.

He had to do something, but what?

This tea wasn’t half bad. I sipped. I was glad I had come here. I could finally relax and chill out.

There were a few more customers in the place now. A man in a suit stood behind the counter, staring at me.

Once he realized I saw him, he smiled and began walking toward me. I turned around but there was a wall behind me. I was cornered.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello,” I replied.

“Is this your first time at the BUBBLE T SHOP?” he said.

“Um…yes,” I said.

“Oh, forgive my rudeness, I’m the owner of this shop,” the man said. He was standing very close. “How do you like our establishment?” He had a wide smile.

“Nice. Good tea,” I held the half glass of strawberry tea in the air.