Hazardous Goods (Arcane Transport) (33 page)

“Yup. And I’m loaded with antihistamines. So. What’s the plan?”

The plan was pretty simple. Ted would capture the meeting from a bench on the West side of the fountains, by the Courthouse. Clay and Sol would be seated alongside the fountain itself. I would wait for Elena in the middle of the courtyard. Out in the open, with lots of people around. I was hoping that would discourage her from trying to blast me into dust molecules.

I left Clay and Sol by the fountain and took up a position in the courtyard at five minutes before seven. Not thirty seconds later, a stretch limousine pulled up on Queen Street, on the other side of the fountain from where I was standing. The driver worked his way around to the curbside passenger door, and opened it.

First out was a man I had never seen in my life.

Asian. Dark hair parted on one side and cut short. Strong cheekbones. Plain white short-sleeve shirt. Aside from the color of his skin, he looked like a 1950s American business man. He stood for a moment, puffing on a cigarette, the blue smoke curling about him.

After a quick glance about, he offered a hand to the next passenger, who turned out to be Elena Legenko herself.

This time she was dressed more conservatively. Likely realized my choice of meeting spot was out in the open, an easy place for someone to recognize her if she strolled out in stilettos and a thigh-slit dress.

The driver shut the door behind Elena and returned to his post at the wheel.

Elena and her companion, meanwhile, were looking about the fountain area, searching for me. I held a hand up to catch their attention, but made no effort to move. I wanted them out in the open, not five feet from a car door they could disappear me into.

Their stroll around the fountain to my side was leisurely, and I took a moment to glance around. Ted was set up. Clay and Sol had fortuitously settled opposite the side that Elena and her companion were now rounding. The limo remained parked. I saw no one else paying us much attention. A few tourists with cameras, trying to get a shot of the fountain. Couple school kids. Business-folk crossing this way and that.

“Mr. Elder. We meet again.”

“It’s getting to be a bit of a habit.”

“Yes, it seems so. I trust you have been reading the newspapers?”

“I see your hubby is going to be spending some time behind bars. A real shame.”

“You are either very stupid, or very sure of yourself, Mr. Elder.”

“Well brave I ain’t. So, is there a purpose to all this, or are you just here to hit on me?”

“Oh, there is a purpose.” She turned and raised her hand in the air, snapping her fingers as though calling a cab. Behind her I could see the limo door open again.

“More friends?”

“A mutual acquaintance, let us say.”

So it was. The driver opened the passenger door, and with some effort assisted Niki Kuzmenko out of the vehicle.

From where I stood, a good thirty yards away, I could tell that it was Niki. I could also tell that he wasn’t faring so well.

He was hunched over, one arm in a makeshift sling. From the way he was walking, I figured he had done some serious damage to his left knee. The cut on his forehead was still stitched shut, but it was a black and purple mess, and there were several other bruises on his face that I was fairly certain I had not caused.

The driver helped Niki limp down the same path Elena and her companion had followed. But instead of approaching us, he led Niki to the fountain and sat him down on the edge. He then returned to his vehicle, leaving Niki seated and swaying slightly, watery eyes focused on the three of us.

“You recall Mr. Kuzmenko, I trust.”

I ignored her, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

“You mentioned my husband when we spoke on the phone, Mr. Elder. As much as he has proven to be a very stupid man, he is loyal. Nikolay, however, has proven to be both stupid and disloyal.”

“At first I was angry at you, Mr. Elder. Very angry. I believe it is safe to assume that your actions led to Nikolay’s arrest, and ensured that Maxim would spend time in your jails. I am also being denied access to the Greylawn property, which upsets me greatly. Yes, Mr. Elder, you have proven to be a terrible nuisance.”

I smirked at that. Couldn’t help it. She was sucking up to me.

“But then I realized that if it were not for Maxim and Nikolay, I would not have had to suffer your insolence. Their decision to steal from you was ill-advised, at best. A decision made without my knowledge or approval, by the way.”

“How about the decision to kill the witnesses. Was that a big problem for you?”

“Also a decision made without my knowledge. My husband continues to believe the ways of our mother country are best. Unfortunately, that has not always proven to be the case. But he will be paying the price for his mistakes, and he will keep his mouth shut. Mr. Kuzmenko is another matter. This tape of yours – that was sheer stupidity on his part. That alone I might have forgiven, though it forced my Maxim to accept a plea. His decision to sell drugs, however, was a different matter.”

“Sell drugs? Or sell them for his own account?”

That pissed her off. She pursed her lips, then continued.

“I believe Mr. Kuzmenko must be punished for his disloyalty. Certainly that is something we could address on our own. But I felt it best that you be present – consider it my way of apologizing for the inconveniences we have caused for you.”

Sure. An apology. And a threat. But if she thought one of them could set Kuzmenko on fire or blast him with energy without consequences, she was wrong. I resisted checking on Ted to make sure he was getting all of this on tape.

“Mr. Rath?”

The Asian nodded, and began walking towards Kuzmenko.

“You’re not planning anything stupid, I hope. There are a whole lot of witnesses here.”

“Witnesses?” She laughed. “They are hollow automatons. Tell me, which of these people has spent more than five minutes in the past year considering their purpose on this planet? Or contemplating how they might change the world? None of them.”

Hey. If you’re going to pose a question, you could have the courtesy to allow me to answer.

“They are
drones
. Concerned with the past two hours and the next five minutes. How do I pay the bills, where will little Johnny go to school, does my boss like me. Faced with the remarkable, or the terrible, they cannot compute. That is why a woman can be raped and murdered in broad daylight, or a politician can lie outright, and no one is punished. Do not kid yourself, Mr. Elder. Those who even turn to watch will convince themselves that all is not as it seems. Or that someone else will do something. And by the time they get home, the events that pass here will have been tucked into a deep corner of their minds, in order that they can focus their attention on what to wear to that party on Friday. They don’t want to know
anything
that would threaten the numb comfort of the lives they have built themselves.”

It was a scary thought, and the sad part was that I thought she was right. But that was why we were there. To do something about these people.

I watched as Rath approached Niki. The big Russian sat still, seemingly too beat up and tired to move.

Rath stopped in front and to the side of Kuzmenko, glancing down at the big man for just a moment before looking out over the fountain and several children wading in the clear pool. He reached out, placing his hand to Niki’s forehead, like a father checking a child for fever. His other hand flicked ash from his cigarette onto the concrete, then returned it to his lips.

For a moment, Niki remained slumped over, unresponsive. Then his head lifted, eyes filled with fear and confusion.

“Remarkable, isn’t it? Man fears nothing as much as pain. Yet pain itself is ephemeral. Pain alone leaves no marks. Is my pain greater or less than yours? Did her childbirth leave deeper psychological scars than his heart attack?”

I watched as Niki’s back arched, his chest heaving to gain air.

“What the hell...” I began to move towards Rath. No matter how much I hated that idiot Niki, this was
wrong
.

I was still ten feet away when the air changed. If you have ever been in an open field during a lightning storm, you will know the feeling. Edgy, metallic. Niki’s body quaked, and his mouth opened wide in a silent scream.

Then he slumped over, tipping until he fell face first to the pavement. I ran to his side to check his pulse, but I knew there was no point. The Russian was dead.

“Mother...”

I stood and drew my hand back for a punch. But I didn’t throw one. There was no point. Niki was dead. Which might very well have been a good thing, depending on how you looked at the world. I was pretty sure Rath couldn’t hurt me, but the margin for error on that assessment was razor thin. He watched me through the swirl of blue smoke off his cigarette, impassive. Elena strode over to join him.

“We will part ways now, Mr. Elder. It is my sincere hope our paths never cross again.”

As I stood there, not four feet from Niki’s cooling body, Rath moved to her side and they began strolling back to the limo. She stopped, turned, and in a stage whisper called out:

“Oh. Please say hello to your colleagues for me.” With that she cast a wave at Clay and Sol, then Ted, and walked away.

My hope was that we would have video evidence of Elena’s involvement in Niki’s death. Unfortunately, that hope proved unfounded. Moments later, Clay, Sol and I watched as Ted ran us through the video – a perfect recording of Niki taking a seat by the fountain with the assistance of a limo driver, then a minute later arching his back in pain, crying out, and falling dead to the concrete. Despite viewing the tape several times, the three of us huddled around the small camera in the middle of Nathan Phillips Square, we saw no sign of Mr. Rath. It was as though he had never been there.

By the time we tore our eyes away from the small LCD screen, Niki was no longer there either. All that remained of the incident were a few clumps of ash from Rath’s cigarette, already drifting away in the soft breeze.

The next day, the following article appeared on page A13 of the Daily Times:

LEGENKO ASSOCIATE FOUND DEAD

Nikolay Kuzmenko, aged 41, was found dead of unknown causes in a Bay Street condominium early Saturday morning, the police reported yesterday. Mr. Kuzmenko was rumored to be an associate of Maxim Legenko, the former CEO of Ruscan Investments, who pled guilty earlier this week to charges of fraud and money laundering.

A police spokesperson, Sgt. Neil Cooper, said a neighbor called 911 at about 7:30 A.M. Saturday after finding the body of Mr. Kuzmenko in the living room of his open seventh floor unit. Kuzmenko resided at the Century Club Towers, a condominium complex at 1057 Bay Street, just south of Charles Street West.

Kuzmenko, who Sgt. Cooper referred to as “known to police”, served three years in prison for trafficking and assault, and was released from Joyceville Institution in 2004. He was charged two weeks ago with possession with intent of trafficking and conspiracy to commit an indictable offence, in connection with the raid of a Rev lab in an industrial warehouse on Greylawn Street last week, the first raid of its kind in Canada. Rev began appearing in Toronto clubs and raves late last year.

Detectives would not comment on any possible connection between Mr. Legenko and the Rev operation.

It was August 6
^th
, and I had been with Arcane Transport for exactly three months. It felt like I should be getting a gold watch.

My first ninety days had been hectic, to say the least. But I was starting to feel comfortable at last. Jim, Harold and Jamar were handling the majority of deliveries now that things had calmed down, giving me a chance to do some meet-and-greets with those customers I had not met face-to-face. Our days were a little less crazy, and I hadn’t heard from the Legenkos or their colleagues in over a month.

Maxim Legenko had been transferred to Collins Bay in Kingston, and was apparently adjusting well to prison life. I wished him a long and pleasant stay.

Niki Kuzmenko was cremated, and a memorial placed in his name at York Cemetery in North York. I visited the site two weeks ago, to satisfy some strange need for closure. Someone had spray-painted his monument with a single word. Traitor.

At long last, Amy and I had our dinner, a great evening of prime rib and red wine at La Castile, a goony castle-like steakhouse on the Dundas strip west of the city. As to what happened afterwards – I don’t kiss and tell. But we’ve been seeing one another regularly since.

As for me, I was settling in. I had found some time to read up on Arcane, its customers, and their fascinating beliefs. I found a copy of Clay’s original business plan for the company, prepared in 1974, white-out still marking where he had made revisions. I also had a chance to start reading through Charlie Carter’s
History of Occultism in Toronto,
which was proving to be a real eye-opener. Of particular interest to me was a paragraph on page 64, suggesting that my parents had run a herbal pharmacy in Toronto, from 1974 to 1983. That was a fact that my mother had never mentioned in my thirty-four years on the planet. It also helped explain why Elder Herbals appeared in the list of potential customers identified in Clay’s business plan, though it raised a whole host of questions I would need to explore when I had the energy.

As for Jamar, Kara and Ted? Jamar was back with his girlfriend, and his dad had chickened out on the flight to Kiev. Kara and I had settled into a comfortable relationship as friends and colleagues, though at times I felt there might be more lurking beneath. Her boyfriend Chad seemed to think so too, so we’ll never be BFFs.

Ted? Well, he and two buddies had formed a hockey academy for kids, which was taking up the majority of his time. He still worked once and awhile at Hidden Pleasures, and was seeing a dancer with the unlikely name of Chastity.