“Anything happen while we were investigating?” Barnes said.
I shook my head. “Nothing unusual.”
Silence again.
“You’re ringing, dude,” I heard Barnes say.
“What?” I said.
“Your cell phone is ringing.”
I pulled out my cell and said, “Hello.”
It was Beadsworth. “Leave Herrera and Barnes and meet me at the House of Jam. You know where it is?”
“Sure I do.”
“Good.” He hung up.
I turned to Barnes, “Where is the House of Jam, anyways?”
“On Queen Street West, near Simcoe Street,” he answered. “Why?”
“I have to go there.”
“We keep an eye out?” asked Herrera.
“Yeah, I guess until you hear from Garnett or Aldrich.”
THIRTEEN
I drove along Queen Street West searching desperately for the House of Jam. I asked several passers-by if they knew where it was but they shook their heads. Most of them were middle-aged, so I guessed they were not into that stuff. A young kid, wearing the Canadian flag as a bandana, told me it was around the corner, but he said it had no signs or markings in front of it. Great, that was going to help me a great deal.
I parked at the corner of Queen and Simcoe with the full view of the street. From here I was hoping to see Beadsworth.
I’m not much of a club hopper. In fact, this was my first time being inside a club. My mother never allowed me to get involved in music. She considered music the path to lawlessness. She couldn’t stand those who drove around blaring loud music from their speakers.
I waited for Beadsworth’s station wagon. The GM swerved around and parked a few cars away.
“Why are we here?” I asked.
“Cal Murray is willing to meet us,” Beadsworth said. “He’ll be out in a minute.”
“Where is this House of Jam?” I asked, looking around.
“You’re standing in front of it,” he replied.
I turned to a heavy black door. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I moved back to get a full view of the place. The building, from the outside, looked like an abandoned storehouse. There was graffiti sprayed everywhere.
A few minutes later a man appeared at the door. He had gray hair and he was sporting a goatee. He smiled and extended his hand, “I’m Cal Murray.”
We shook hands and introduced ourselves. “Come,” he said.
We went past the door and up a long flight of stairs. “We have four entrances and exits to the building,” Cal started. “Plus, two more exits just in case of emergencies.” We were now in a narrow hall. “This is one of the emergency exits. But it leads straight to my office and it’s away from the public.” He unlocked a door and motioned us to enter. Opposite this door was another door.
The office was small, confined. The only objects inside were a brown leather sofa with a desk and chair opposite it. Behind the desk and chair the wall was covered with photographs of Cal with celebrities and other important people. Most of them I didn’t recognize. A fourteen-inch television was perched on a platform higher up.
Cal sat behind the desk. Beadsworth sat upright on the sofa while I sprawled.
“Max told me why you wanted to meet me,” Cal said. His face was serious. “First, we don’t do drugs. We don’t deal in that shit. We clear on that?”
“Of course,” replied Beadsworth.
“Sure,” I said, relaxed on the sofa. All my tensions were draining out. I moved my hand over the hand rest. The leather was soft and smooth. I was ready to go to sleep.
“These people came to me a while back,” continued Cal. “They said they have the next best thing and that if I let them open shop they’ll give me a cut.”
“They told you about Nex?” asked Beadsworth.
“What’s Nex?” he replied.
“The drug. It’s the name.”
“I don’t know,” he waved his hands. “They might call it that now. Names come and go. All I said to them was no thank you.”
My eyes were closing.
“But they came back?” Beadsworth said.
Cal looked down at the desk, “Yes. They are very persuasive. They keep coming back. You know, it took me three years to get this club on the map.” Through my bleary eyes I could tell Cal was now into promotional mode. “We get the latest bands launching their CDs. We have parties for film premiers. We even host fundraisers for the Hospital for Sick Children. If you’re in Toronto, this is the place to be.”
“Do they keep coming back because they think you’re interested?” inquired Beadsworth. I knew Beadsworth was onto something, but in my state of happiness I didn’t care.
“Yeah, a little,” I heard Cal say. “You have to understand. Drugs are hard to control. Ecstasy is everywhere. Deals take place behind your back. At least with this new product I could have some control over it. So, yeah, I thought about it. If I knew who was selling and who was buying I could maybe keep it away from the most vulnerable.”
“Children?” Beadsworth said.
From half open eyelids I saw Cal nod.
“What do they look like?” Beadsworth asked.
Cal thought about it, “Their leader is a woman. She has…”
I think maybe I was snoring. Maybe four or five minutes had passed when Beadsworth nudged me and I sat up straight. “Tell us more,” I said, crossing my leg.
Cal continued. “Then, finally, I guess there is this big Asian guy. Mean looking.” Beadsworth was making notes on a small pad.
Beadsworth said, “His name?”
“I hear them call him Kong.”
“When did they bring you the samples?”
“A little over a month ago. The second one two weeks after that and the most recent early last week.”
Last week. We were getting close.
Cal said. “I gave the samples to Max. I think you guys have them now. So what more do you want from me? You have the evidence, you go nail them.”
My eyes were half-closed. I tried to fight it. I really did. But then I fell back into darkness.
Beadsworth turned to me and said, “Officer Rupret will tell you.”
That woke me up.
Cal looked at me attentively.
I shot Beadsworth a look. “Um, yes,” I said trying to get out of my haze. “This sofa. It is real leather?”
“Yes,” replied Cal, slowly.
“Good. We would like a tour. We want to know why RACE wants to do business here.” I had no idea what I was saying.
“Who is this RACE?” said Cal turning to Beadsworth.
Before he could answer I got up and pointed to the sofa, “Whenever you decide to throw it away you give me a call.” I slid a card with my phone number on his desk.
Cal was confused but he nodded and said, “Yes, I can give you a tour.” He got up. “But you still haven’t answered my question. Why don’t you guys go and arrest these people?”
“He’ll answer that,” I pointed to Beadsworth. “I’ve talked enough.” I rubbed my eyes.
“We need to know if they have the drug,” Beadsworth replied. “The samples we have aren’t the final product. That is where you come in. We need you to get it from them. So far we have something that sounds dangerous, but is it? We need to be certain.”
“You want me to do business with them?” he said.
“Yes, we believe they are still processing the drug. Once they have it they will be eager to push it and before they do we have to stop them.” Beadsworth handed Cal his card. “If and when they contact you, you give us a call.”
“Come, I’ll show you the place,” Cal said. We were now in the narrow hall again.
“What’s in that room?” I pointed.
“If any of our special guests or performers want to chill out, we let them use it. Mostly, DJ’s use it to get a break. Max is our resident DJ, so he uses it. You want to see it?”
I shook my head. “That’s all right.”
He led us out through another door, this one heavy, and onto the mezzanine level. It was low-lit and a girl, wearing a t-shirt and jeans, was wiping the tables.
Cal said, “On the left of this floor we have the VIP lounge with ultra-comfortable couches.”