John Mackie - Hazardous Goods

POLICE BUST REV LAB IN MOSS PARK

Late Tuesday night, Toronto police uncovered an illicit drug operation in a Moss Park warehouse on Greylawn Street, sealing off the area bounded by Shuter Street, Queen Street East, Sackville Street and River Street. Responding to an anonymous tip, officers swarmed a former publishing house on Greylawn just after two o’clock AM, and discovered a sophisticated drug operation.

Similar to methamphetamine labs uncovered in the Metro area, a potentially toxic and explosive combination of chemicals led police to immediately vacate the premises. A hazardous materials team called in to assist with the initial site assessment were still removing drums of chemicals, refrigerators, chemical laboratory instruments and huge quantities of Rev and ecstasy from the site by mid-afternoon. Neighboring buildings were cleared of their occupants, and local residents have been evacuated pending completion of the clean up.

“This lab posed a substantial risk to local residents” said Staff Inspector Earl Chamberlain, head of the Toronto drug squad. “We have called in the provincial police crime lab, firefighters, RCMP and Health Canada experts to assist with the investigation and clean up of the site, and ask that area residents remain patient as we sort this mess out.” Sources indicate that the police have also contracted with Greencor Environmental Rehabilitation, a subsidiary of Toronto-based Sun Consulting, to assist with the recovery of the site.

Four men present in the building faces multiple charges including possession with intent of trafficking, and conspiracy to commit an indictable offence. Oleg Sidorov, 35, of Toronto, Arkady Sidorov, 32, of Windsor, Nikolay Kuzmenko, 41, of Toronto, and Gabriel Brunet, 57, of Montreal, Que., are to appear in court today.

“We haven’t seen any evidence of Rev distribution outside of Metro Toronto,” said Staff Insp. Chamberlain. “However, if this entire cache was intended for our streets, we would have seen an epidemic.”

He said detectives are looking into links with organized crime, including the Russian mafia. “This was a sophisticated criminal endeavor.”

Remarkably, the next few days were quiet. We had finally managed to clear the backlog at the office, and Jim, Harold, Jamar and I had settled into a daily routine. Clay was back home again, under Harper’s watchful eye. Unfortunately Ted was home too, though he was taking some time to recuperate. Couldn’t hurt that the first night he was home three girls from Hidden Pleasures came by to check on him.

With everything seeming under control, I decided to deal with some unfinished business.

I arrived at Bindings before they opened. Knocked on the glass and gave my best smile for the blond receptionist.

“Good morning.”

“Hi.” A lackluster, pre-coffee, first thing in the morning greeting. I knew how she felt.

“I’ll get that, Mary. Please finish up the dusting.” The good doctor was unaffected by the glare she directed at him, even turning to admire her curvy butt as she walked away.

“Remarkable about that coat the other day.” He took the clipboard from me and signed next to my finger. “Hadn’t thought of it for years.”

He finished signing but held onto the clipboard.

“You ever find out who sent it?”

I stared at him. Ballsy son of a bitch. I had a feeling he knew exactly who sent it. Knew from the moment his new girlfriend turned it away. Never said a word to us.

“We looked into it. Nothing to worry yourself about.”

He waited for me to say something more. I placed the package on the reception desk, letting the silence stretch.

“How’s business?”

“Oh,” now he handed me the clipboard. “It’s okay. Always has been a tough business, from the very start.”

Right. Another Omega on his wrist — this one different from the one he had worn last time. Initials on the cuff of his custom shirt. And on my way in I spotted his car, parked at the end of the alley — a metallic beige BMW 760Li. More than a hundred grand tied up in a car that to my uncultured eye looked like any other sedan. Tough business, my ass.

“Sorry to hear that. Listen, our Accounts people were telling me that your bills are running quite late. Would you be able to bring them into good standing in the next week or two?”

That got his back up. His chin raised ten degrees, head tilted back in order to emphasize the sense he was looking down his nose at me in disdain. A bit goofy, considering I was five inches taller than him. I ended up with a terrific view of his nostrils, though. Trimmed regularly, from all appearances.

He sputtered.

“Haven’t I just told you how difficult things are for us?” That elicited a snort from his receptionist, who quickly turned her attention to a cabinet she had already polished. Twice. “We’re barely able to pay the rent on this store! I’m afraid I can’t pay you any earlier. It would be devastating to our cash flow.”

Three grand. I had asked John Vranic to confirm the balance owing by Bindings a few days ago. That was when he told me they averaged one hundred and fifty-eight days on payments. Six months, to pay an average bill of five hundred and fifty dollars a month. It was never going to be enough money that I would lose sleep over it. It was the principle of the matter. That, and the guy pissed me off.

“Maybe you could put off one of your other suppliers? Maybe your tailor?”

She snorted again, and this time made no effort to hide it. Instead she marched to the back of the room, hands to her face and her back convulsing in silent laughter.

“Is this a joke for you? Our financial situation?”

Nervy bastard, I would give him that. Apparently he was determined to play this gambit to the hilt.

“Listen, no offence intended. But we’re running a business too.”

I stared him down, but he seemed determined not to let it go. I guess he was used to bullying people into getting his own way, just didn’t realize I didn’t take kindly to bullies.

“Well I can’t imagine how your superior will respond when he hears how you’ve treated us. Clay Jarvis would never do such a thing.”

“Nice try. Clay said I should just move the account to a collection agency.”

“What? Then it sounds as though we will no longer be doing business. I will not have anyone treat me this way.”

What way? Requesting payment for services rendered?

“Fair enough. We’ll send you a closing statement. I hope business improves for you.”

I turned and walked out, ignoring the smug look on his face. I had mentioned Galt to Clay the night before, in one of our update calls. Without any prompting at all Clay had said Galt was one of those clients we might be better off without — small account, high maintenance, slow payer. I got the feeling he would have liked to see me put the good doctor in his place.

I was running up so much phone time with Amy I was thinking she could run a 1-800 service, maybe 1-800-SEXYCOP. She’d be retired in three years.

She’d been calling me twice a day with updates on the bust and Niki’s trip through the justice system, and I was eating it up. It was like my own episode of Law and Order, delivered by a sexy narrator.

“The lab guys are just drooling over this stuff. They didn’t have enough samples to figure out the chemical makeup of Rev before, and now they’re handed a full lab. Turns out it’s fairly close to meth — ammonia, lye, lithium, battery acid. All nasty shit. Even some weird plant,” I could hear the sound of pages turning, “get this — black fringed bloodroot. It’s a rare poppy, native to just a few areas of Northern Ontario and Quebec. Sounds like something one of your customers would come up with.”