“How many people work in there?” Garnett asked.
“I can’t say exactly. But last night a green minivan with tinted windows drove up, dropped a few passengers off, picked some up and left.”
“Where’d they take them?”
“To Kennedy Station.”
“They could just be giving their employees a ride,” Garnett said.
“Yeah, but there are several bus stops around here. They couldn’t walk up to the bus stops?”
There was silence. We were all thinking about it. Something was definitely fishy.
A GM station wagon drove up and in it was Beadsworth. He got out and came over to us.
“How’s your kid?” Garnett asked Beadsworth.
“He’s doing much better.”
“Phil, what’re the results from DAS?” Nemdharry asked.
“The samples contained some part of Ketamine.”
“Special K,” Garnett answered.
“K-hole,” Nemdharry shook his head.
“Sorry?” I said.
“Ketamine,” Nemdharry started. “The high, or K-hole, as it is called, can make you do weird shit. I remember,” he said laughing. “I had just started in the force and they put me on foot patrol. I got a call one night that some guy was committing suicide off a tower on Wellington. So I rushed over. When I got up, I saw this guy, hands on his knees, on the ledge, looking forty stories down. The guy looked respectable, nice suit and haircut and all. So I thought, maybe a stockbroker, probably lost all his client’s money. So I started talking to him, telling him life is worth living and that his family would miss him if he were dead. After five minutes of me talking he looked up and his face had this confused look. He smiled and pointed below. So I went over to the edge and looked down. All I saw were tiny cars and ant-like people. I told him what I saw. He got angry and shook his head. No. Look carefully. I did and I still didn’t see anything special. He smiled and said all his friends were down there. I looked again. Maybe this whole stunt was to prove something to his friends? He said thousands of his friends were waiting for him down below and they were not from this planet. They wanted him to jump so that they could catch him. The guy was flipped. So I talked to him about his friends hoping to buy some time. Close to an hour later the guy comes to his senses.
“Earlier he had gone into a club and snorted Ketamine. He remembered feeling like his mind had left his body and then a voice told him to go up to the tower and jump. He clearly saw green men with arms extended waiting for his dive.” Nemdharry’s eyes widened. “Weird, eh?”
I nodded.
Garnett spoke, “So what else is in it?” He was speaking to Beadsworth.
“So far caffeine. We’ll find out the rest after the chromatography tests are done.”
Ed Burrows paced the room, sweating from the exertion. “There are pages missing,” he cried.
“What?” Ms. Zee said.
“I’ve gone through the designs three times and sections are missing.”
Ms. Zee was not amused.
“The previous chemist was playing with pills and capsules, knowing full well that they would not provide the bust you require. At Bantam I heard they had invented this innovative delivery process…”
“What is it?” she demanded.
“I didn’t work on that aspect of the drug.” He shook his head. “I worked on how each ingredient reacted to the other. That is how I know the previous chemist’s formula works. His notes were very good. He had a clear model in his head.”
“Get to the point,” Ms. Zee said.
“But for some reason his last formula was different, as if he were going in another direction-or-altering the drug entirely.”
It was more like he was sabotaging their operation, Ms. Zee thought.
“With his initial designs and process in hand, replication would be no problem. But without the missing pages we can’t do that.”
Even in death Armand had screwed them, Ms. Zee thought.
“I think I know a man who could solve that for us.”
“Where is this man?” she asked.
“I’ll find out where he is.”
TWELVE
I was still thinking about Nemdharry’s story when Garnett said, “Let’s go get some coffee.”
I was looking forward to getting something to drink.
“Not you,” Garnett said, stopping me. “Someone has to watch over the building.”
I shrugged. Fine. I didn’t want their company anyways.
“I’ll get you a cup,” Beadsworth said.
They left.
I was now alone.
Across, I saw people enter and leave the building. I wanted desperately to walk over and knock at the door of this LLPM Company. What would I find? Mad scientists hunched over their instruments making Nex? Or maybe nothing. But whatever it was, it was inside that building.
A black pickup truck entered from the side. I moved to the right trying to get the license plate of the vehicle. From this distance I couldn’t make out anything-not even a single number or letter. I should have brought my binoculars.
I needed to get closer. Without thinking I began to cross the street. It was a busy road, where cars zoomed passed me.
I looked up and the truck had disappeared around the back. It was now or never. I dashed across, narrowly missing the bumpers of several cars.
I entered the side pathway and ran towards the back. As I was halfway the same pickup emerged from around the corner. I stopped instantly, and retreated.
I could feel the pickup move closer. I didn’t look back; I just continued walking. The pickup stopped beside me and then the windows came down.
A woman with dark sunglasses was sitting behind the wheel.
“Can you tell me which way is Eglinton Avenue?” she said.
She was lost!
I sighed and gave her the directions.
I went back to my car, soaking wet from perspiration.
Not two minutes later Beadsworth, Nemdharry and Garnett came back. Beadsworth was holding my cup of coffee.
“You’re sweating,” Beadsworth said handing me the cup.
“I was just jogging,” I said. “I try to stay in shape.”
Garnett and Nemdharry looked at each other.
“We’re heading down to Headquarters,” Beadsworth said. “Constable Barnes and Detective Herrera will be joining you.”
“Sure,” I said taking a sip of the hot coffee. Right now all I wanted was a cold glass of water.
Eight minutes later a car drove up and parked in an empty spot. Herrera and Barnes came over.
“Carlos Herrera,” said a short man with a blotchy face, but a genial smile. “I don’t think we were properly introduced.” He extended his hand. I took it. “You weren’t at our little lunch.”
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “Jon Rupret. R before E.”
“Michael Barnes,” said a good-looking white kid. He had curly hair and he was about my age. I shook his hand, too.
“So where’s the action?” Herrera said.
“Across the street.” I pointed to the building.
“So what are we doing here?” he said.
“We’re supposed to wait,” I replied.
“Wait,” Barnes said. “Sure, we could do that. All we’ve been doing is waiting.”
Herrera nodded.
“So, what’re you guys working on?” I asked.
Barnes said, “Sergeant Aldrich told us to search for Armand Dempiers.”
“Who?” I said.
Herrera answered, “He used to work for Bantam Pharmaceuticals at Danforth and Victoria Park. We went over there and they told us he was let go almost six months ago. They gave us his home address. We found the place empty. The property owner said he’d moved out months ago. Then we got a hold of his ex-wife. She said she hadn’t talked to him for over a month. The last time she’d spoken to him he sounded nervous but told her he was working on something big.”