“I got fired. Plain as that.”
“Yes, we’re interested in what you know about this painkiller.”
“It was months ago,” he said, finding the right key. “Whatever I worked on, Bantam owns it.”
“We have the design.”
He stopped. “You’re…” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not supposed to have that.”
“We do and we need you to work on it.”
“You’re not from Bantam, are you?”
“No.”
“Then what you want me to do is illegal?” Burrows scratched the growth of hair under his chin.
“That’s right.”
“No, thank you. I’ve got my own troubles”
“Yes, we know. What do you say to ten thousand?”
“Dollars?”
“Yes. That would clear up your immediate troubles, no?”
Burrows touched the heavy bandage above his eye. “You know?”
“Of course. You do what we say and don’t ask any questions and we assist you in alleviating your troubles.”
Burrows looked around the parking lot. It was empty. “Is this some kind of prank? Am I on some reality TV show?”
“Not quite.”
He eyed Martin hard. “You said I won’t have any more problems?”
“None whatsoever, If you do as we say.”
Burrows nodded. “Okay. I’m not doing anything anyways.”
Martin gave a signal and a white Lincoln drove up with Hause at the wheel. Kong and Suraj emerged from the vehicle.
“What about my car?” Burrows asked.
“We’ll park it at your home.”
Burrows reluctantly handed over the keys to Suraj who immediately went to work. “Mr. Burrows, get in. You’ve got a lot to do.”
NINE
Burrows sifted through the pile of paper-reading and glancing at the writing, scribbles and notations. Finally he said, “This is not what we were working on at Bantam.”
Ms. Zee, sitting across and watching his every move, said, “The chemist took liberties and made some modifications. Some of the ingredients in our product are…not officially permitted.”
“Who designed this?” he asked.
“That is not important, only that the product is made.”
“It can be made, but I need some time.”
“A few days are all we can give.”
“About my ten thousand…”
“Consider your problem solved. Your debts are no more.”
He nodded and went back to the notes. “It is supposed to cause relaxation and numbness. From what I can tell there were several variations of the painkiller made. But…” he paused. “Why so many variations when the first painkiller does take effect?”
“It wasn’t effective enough,” Ms. Zee answered.
“What results are you looking for?”
“Overwhelming.”
I convinced Beadsworth to take my car. Compared to his it was not in the best of shape, but it was my turn to drive, so I didn’t care.
Beadsworth instructed me to drive to a condominium in the West end called Palace Pier. I had never heard of the place but it sounded pricey.
Palace Pier looked like a five-star hotel. “Are you sure we’re at the right place?” I said, getting out of the car.
“I believe so,” he said.
“You sure he’s a DJ?” I said as we walked up to the main doors.
Everything looked rich and elegant. The carpet I was walking on was worth more than all of my assets combined.
As we moved to the elevators, the security guard eyed us suspiciously. He knew everyone at the building. He didn’t stop us and I think it had more to do with Beadsworth than me. Beadsworth was decked out in a fine suit while I was wearing what had smelled cleanest in the morning.
We waited for the elevators. I was still admiring the luxuries of the place.
“Drug money,” I whispered to Beadsworth.
Beadsworth said nothing but I could tell he was suspicious too.
We went up to the fourth floor and knocked on the addressed door.
No answer.
We knocked harder.
No answer.
I banged on the door with my fists. “Yo! Grilled fish delivery. Open up.”
Beadsworth shot me a look, “Grilled fish?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. “I’m making it up.”
“Hold on!” we heard a voice from behind the door.
“See,” I said to Beadsworth.
Two seconds later the door eased open.
DJ Krash, or someone we thought was DJ Krash, was short and skinny, wearing a Nike t-shirt, shorts, and socks. He looked tired, as if someone had just interrupted his sleep.
“I didn’t order any grilled fish,” he said, but before we could answer, he said, “Oh, you guys must be from the magazine. Am I late?”
We both looked at each other.
Seeing the confused look on our faces, he said, “You’re not from Lyrics amp; Beat for my interview?”
Beadsworth flashed his badge and said, “No. Are you Max Vernon?”
“Yeah. What’s this all about?” he said.
“You’re not in any trouble, Mr. Vernon, at least, not yet. Can we come in?”
“I guess so.”
The condominium was spacious, to say the least. Lush carpet, fine leather sofa, a plasma high-definition TV; this place was loaded.
Max Vernon didn’t offer us a seat, but we sat.
“We just need some information on a group that we believe frequents the clubs you play in,” Beadsworth said.
“I play in many clubs.”
“The House of Jam, in particular.”
He sat across from us and rubbed his eyes. “Sorry,” he said. “I was doing a gig last night. So what do you want to know exactly?”
“Anything and everything.”
“I might have heard something or nothing,” Vernon said. He was reading us to see what we were after.
“Do you know who owns House of Jam?” Beadsworth asked.
“Sure. My brother-in-law.”
“His name?”
Vernon paused. “We’re not into anything, if that’s what you mean.”
“Maybe your brother-in-law is,” I said, seeing how defensive he was.
“Hey, Cal has a family,” he snapped. Then he lowered his voice. “Listen, he’s got two beautiful children. He’s not into…into…”
“Drugs,” I said.
“Yeah.” Vernon looked away. Then he sighed and said, “Okay. Okay. Cal told me some people came by and they said they are working on this new drug that’s going to be the next big thing.”
“Next big thing?” I asked.
“Bigger than Ecstasy.”
“What did they call this new thing?” Beadsworth said.
“Cal didn’t mention a name. He said they wanted to open shop at House of Jam and they were willing to give him a twenty percent cut.”
“Did Cal agree?” I said, testing him.
“No, of course not,” he turned to me. “We don’t do drugs, man. We make enough money doing our own stuff.”
“It’s hard to believe that someone would just throw away that kind of money?” Beadsworth said, trying to get more out of him.
“Don’t believe me. I don’t care. But let me tell you, drugs are bad for business. You have no idea how much business we lose because of Ecstasy. The police always showing up at the club, parents afraid to send their kids there, fights breaking out, you name it-it happens because of drugs. It’s just not worth it.” He stood up. “All we want to do is make music and earn some money. That’s it.”
Some money? I glanced around the condo.
Beadsworth said, “Why didn’t Cal call the police?”
“You know, I hate to say it, but drugs and music go hand-in-hand. You expect these types of things to be there. Cal is a smart guy. You don’t want a police cruiser parked in the front every time you open your doors, you know what I mean?”
“Did Cal describe these people?”
“Not really, but one of them scared the shit out of him.” He leaned over and whispered. “I’ll show you something.”
He disappeared and then came back holding several clear plastic sandwich bags. He placed them on the coffee table. We leaned closer. Each contained different coloured tablets.