Race

“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.

“What’s your name, boy?”

I searched, “Abdul Karim-er, Hakim-bin Karim-bin Hakim Karim.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“How would you know?” I said feeling offended. How dare this man insult my people?

“Mahmud Hanif. You don’t look like Mahmud Hanif,” he said.

“How would you know that?”

“There’s a picture of him behind your head.”

Damn. There was always a photo with the name and cab number of the driver on the back of the headrest.

Once we were past Broadview I had had enough. I found a spot and parked.

“What are you doing?” Marcus demanded.

I turned and looked him in the eye. “I need information.”

“So?”

“You’re going to give me the information I need.”

“Kid, you’re dead. You know that?”