John Mackie - Hazardous Goods

Now it was the accountant’s turn to blush. “Well, as it happens, they’re one of our clients too.”

After lunch, Kara and I sat down to go over the backlog for the rest of the day. Pickups north of the city, and a couple drops downtown. She had set it up so I could dodge the rush hour traffic and still have some time to meet with the folks at Sun Consulting. Harold was off to the airport again for the afternoon drops. He seemed to prefer that route, and he was getting no complaints from me.

As we wrapped up, another of Arcane’s employees strolled into the lunch room.

“Hey, it’s the new guy.”

Jamar Bailey helped out on deliveries two or three afternoons a week, depending on Arcane’s workload and his class schedule. He was a third year Commerce major at U of T, and a classmate of Clay’s nephew Willis. One smart cookie. He was also one of those black guys who seems to develop six pack abs just lying on the sofa. My six pack was looking more like a keg these days.

“Hey.”

“So.” He pulled up a fourth chair and dropped into it. “Where has the lovely Miss Kara got me going today?”

She fluttered her eyelashes, and spoke like a Southern belle. “Well, how does a drive out to cottage country sound?”

Kara’s trip for Jamar involved a ninety minute drive up to Orillia, a retirement community of forty thousand residents that served as the gateway to cottage country. My experience with Orillia was limited to losing two hundred bucks at the local casino, so Jamar was welcome to the trip. Besides, he wasn’t even going to Orillia, at least not the city proper. The delivery was to some four-corners town a little to the East of there.

I spent the afternoon working deliveries. Nothing unusual, though I did take a wrong turn and end up lost in Bloor West Village. It took three U-turns before I figured out where I was, a moment of panic that almost spelled the end of my new “lucky” coin. But I held off on lobbing it down an open sewer. The coin was on probation.

It was just past three when I arrived at Sun Consulting, having ridden up the same elevator Clay had collapsed in.

The friendly receptionist was at the front desk again, and a look of sympathy crossed her face as soon as I stepped off the elevator. We spoke for a few moments, commiserating about the situation and briefly discussing Clay’s health.

Helen Findlay turned out to be a tall slim lady with a sincere smile. She could have taught many an executive some lessons about courtesy and demeanor.

She also knew how to dress. My Aunt Nicolette had been a real clothes-hound, and Ted and I had learned more from her about clothing (men’s and women’s) than we ever wanted to know. So while another guy would have seen a simple suit, black jacket and matching pencil skirt, I could recognize a Versace outfit when I saw it. Cut right below the knee, to show her slim calves. Black Manolo Blahnik pumps and a diamond pendant necklace topped off the look.

It turned out she was one of the four principals at Sun, which explained the clothes. It also meant that she likely made more money in a year than Ted and I had made since graduation. Then again, the twelve year old who delivers my paper in the morning makes more money than Ted.

After asking about Clay, Helen led the way to her corner office. The view was terrific, the Canada Life building with its unique weather beacon tower standing out. I wondered if an office that big had its own weather patterns.

She offered me a seat, then settled into a high-backed leather chair.

I took a breath, then came out with it. “I am terribly sorry about this incident.”

“No, no. Not your fault. In fact, we think we’ve figured out how the thief knew about the delivery.”

That was another question that had been nagging at me.

“Turns out someone managed to hack into our mailroom records over the weekend. We wouldn’t have even noticed, if Emory hadn’t suggested that our I.T. group do a system security audit after the robbery.” Emory was the Senior Partner.

“Really? That guy didn’t seem like the hacking type.”

“So I hear. Which makes us think he wasn’t acting on his own.”

Huh. I thought about that. The robbery had definitely been planned in advance.

“Well, listen — Clay wanted me to ask you if the package was replaceable, and whether there was anything we could do to help in recovering it.”

“To be honest, we had to do a bit of running around to even figure out what it was. Fortunately, Emory reminded me that we loan out one of our assets several times a year, to help out people in need. Private arrangements.”

I waited for her to continue, but it quickly became evident that Sun Consulting valued its privacy.

“Was it anything dangerous?” What the hell. I should at least find out if some lunatic had stolen the magic equivalent of a tactical nuke.

“Dangerous?” She turned slightly in her chair and gazed for a moment out the window, deep in thought. “No. I mean, we don’t think of our assets in that way. We use that one to help locate ore deposits. You can use it to find things, essentially. It’s a dowsing device.”

I tried to look in the know, but I suspect I failed.

“Relatively narrow range and sensitivity, even in the hands of an experienced diviner. And it’s not suitable for extended use. When it was returned, we would normally have placed the asset in storage for three to six months before accessing it again.”

“Any chance that the party you were delivering it to decided they preferred ownership over a loan?”

“No. Not likely. If anything, they are the ones most hurt by this. Not having the asset just leaves them in limbo.”

I felt like I was talking to some Oracle who would guide my way, but only in cryptic phrases and indirect hints.

“So, how can we help?”

They were the customer, after all.

“At this point, I’m not sure you can do anything. We’re looking into the security breach, but it’s not likely to go anywhere. Let us know if you hear anything, and we’ll keep our ears to the ground. Unfortunately, I suspect it’s gone.”

The rest of day two was uneventful, at least as compared to my first day on the job. The exception was Jamar lucking out at the antique shop that was his northern destination. I returned to the office to find him showing Kara a ring he had been given by one of the customers. The store owner hadn’t seemed interested in it, so the lady had just offered it to Jamar. For free.

I get robbed at gunpoint, and people were handing out gifts to Jamar. Typical.

“What’s the stone? Onyx?”

Kara gave me a funny look.

“It’s my brother’s birthstone. Don’t ask.”

“Huh.” Kara held Jamar’s hand in her own, then drew it closer, squinting to see something stamped or engraved on the face of the ring. “What does it say?”

“Dunno. It’s not in English.”

I leaned in. “It says ‘Toronto Maple Leafs. Stanley Cup Champions’.”

Kara gave me a shot to the arm and I laughed. But when her attention turned back to the ring, I casually rubbed my shoulder, wincing.

One of the things I had resolved to deal with before leaving for the day was touching base with a few key people about Clay, and reassuring them it would be business as usual. Kara had set up a list of names and contact numbers, so I started working through them after Jamar was finished showing off his new find.

Arcane had a few big accounts that I dealt with first. No issues there, though every one of them expressed concern about Clay’s health. Next up was Arcane’s bank. That was the one I was dreading the most. Nothing logical. Hell, Arcane had no debt, cash in the bank and an unused line of credit for slow periods. They were big customers for the local RBC branch. But I had my own history with banks — student loans and credit cards. I still got nauseous every time I got a piece of mail with a bank logo on it.