METROCAFE

by Peter Parkin

  Guy made the motion, and Bill Henson seconded.

  "Motion carried," announced Peter.

  With that, the meeting was adjourned. Mike glanced over at his friends;

  Troy nodded his approval and Jim just looked puzzled. The directors began filing out of the room, and Christine made a point of glancing back at him with a look that betrayed her disgust.

  Mike didn't need Christine's glare to make him feel bad. He hadn't lied to the Board but he had committed the sin of omission. He had not made full disclosure, which was in violation of his fiduciary duty as an officer of the company. And Christine was right—they should have put a provision in the financials. The path he had chosen to take was to do the wrong thing for the right reasons. What he had started in motion would now undoubtedly lead to one lie after another.

  Despite this, Mike breathed a sigh of relief. He now had some time to figure things out on his own. He began his walk back to the relative safety of his office. Missing was the usual bounce in his step, with eyes uncharacteristically looking down burning an invisible path in the carpet.

  Chapter 18

  Colin Spence sat forlornly in his office, looking out over University Avenue. It was 8:00 at night, already getting dark, and once again he had missed dinner with his family. Usually he wasn't this late getting home, but every couple of months when he had no choice but to attend one of these special evening appointments he would tell his wife, Karen, that he had a late dinner meeting. She always bought the story.

  With Colin's position as Senior Vice President of Underwriting and Claims with the Ontario Life Insurance Company, his wife had gotten used to the travel and the long hours. She didn't like it but she knew it came with the territory. Karen was always supportive, although leaving her alone in the evenings didn't sit well with Colin.

  Whenever he had these late evenings, he would urge her to get one of the neighbors or her sister to keep her company. Karen never argued with him— not after what happened to her three years ago.

  He hated these secret meetings, and the fact that he couldn't tell anyone about them to reach out for help. He detested what he had been doing to his company for the last few years. His dream job had turned into a nightmare. He knew he was protecting his family, but he wondered what his little boys would think of the lie he'd been living. He reached into his desk drawer and withdrew some paperwork and two bank drafts; one in the amount of $2,000,000 and the other for $500,000. He stuffed the documents and drafts into his briefcase and snapped it shut. Then from another drawer he took out a large hunting knife in a sheath. He pulled back his suit jacket and slipped the sheath over his belt, sliding it back just enough so it wouldn't be easily visible. He felt better having this weapon with him whenever he met with David, or whatever the fuck his real name was. However, the man was so arrogant and confident, that 'David' probably was his real name.

  Colin left his office and walked down the long empty corridor to the elevators. Everyone was gone by this time and the office had a lonely, forbidding feel to it; kind of the way his life felt like right now. He exited on the main floor and headed north to the subway station. He could do this route blindfolded by now. He would ride the subway north to the Bloor/Bay station, then walk west to Avenue Rd., then north two blocks to his final turn onto sleazy Lowther Avenue. To the third house on the left—a run-down rooming house. He would enter on the main floor where David had an office. Colin was pretty sure David owned or rented the entire house, but he was only allowed to see the main floor office. He would buzz first—two quick buzzes and one long one. Then the door would be unlocked from inside by remote control.

  As he rode the subway, Colin thought back to how he had gotten into this mess in the first place. It was three long years ago, and he had been drinking in a bar near his office with some of his colleagues after a business dinner. They had a few laughs, drank far too much, then staggered on down to a strip club; the first time he had been to one of these since he was a teen. One of his business friends was quite insistent that they go—he said it was more of an executive hangout rather than the typical junky strip joint.

  A few hours passed but Colin decided to linger a little bit longer due to the affectionate attentions of an exotic Middle Eastern stripper. His friends had already left, but the girl was still working—at thirty dollars a pop for one lap dance after another. Two hundred and ten dollars later, she suggested he accompany her to the private room—the so-called VIP room—down at the back of the strip joint. At that point, he was a bit smitten, drunk, and hardly in any condition to refuse. In all honesty though, he knew he had thrown away the willpower to refuse.

  As she escorted him back to the room, with the knowing eyes of all the other men glaring at him as he passed, she told him her name was 'Fadiyah.' Colin told her that was a pretty name, and she laughed. She said her parents must have wanted her to be a suicide bomber, because the Arab name meant 'self-sacrificing.' Colin didn't think that was funny, but at that point he didn't care.

  Once in the room Fadiyah got closer and more naked than in the main hall. Colin thought he was going to blow his load. Then, remarkably, she suddenly wanted to talk business. A couple of hours before he had told her he was a life insurance executive and even gave her his business card for some stupid reason. Perhaps he thought that a stripper would be impressed by his title. Sure.

  In the sweetest voice and with her boobs in his face, she asked him if he could arrange for a million dollar policy on her oil-rich father. Colin replied, "Sure," and then she asked, "Can we avoid a medical exam?" Colin briefly snapped out of his alcoholic haze and replied through the 36Ds pressed against his mouth, "No, sweetie, not for that amount."

  Then she popped the big question. "If I paid you $50,000 under the table, would you accept a fake medical, and not fact-check?" She giggled. Colin giggled too, and said in a drunken slur, "Honey, for $50,000, I won't even read his file!" She giggled again, and quickly pulled herself off him.

  "Come back tomorrow night and we can talk some more, yes? Maybe I will let you get naked too." She reached down and gently guided his hand between her legs, and up against her G-stringed crotch. Then she squeezed her legs tightly together and swiveled seductively from side to side with his hand locked in place. That was more than Colin could take. He felt a sudden explosion in his own crotch and the stickiness began spreading across the front of his Saville Row dress pants.

  Fadiyah smiled knowingly and then she was gone. He was left alone on the tacky red leather couch in a room barely illuminated by three broken tiffany lamps. Colin sat there like an idiot and wondered how long it would take for him to sober up, while thanking his lucky stars that he had decided to wear a dark suit today.

  He got off the subway at the Bloor/Bay station and worked his way along Bloor Street, hanging a quick right at Avenue Road. As he walked along, Colin remembered back to the day after his encounter with Fadiyah. At the office that morning, he got a call from one of his friends, Bill, who had left the strip joint early. The guy made a few smarmy jokes about the luscious body that Fadiyah was blessed with, and asked Colin in typical guy fashion if he had gotten lucky.

  Colin played it down.

  Then Bill said, "I feel guilty about not sharing something with you. I was approached on the street a couple of nights ago by a promoter of the strip joint. He offered me $1,000 if I brought my friends over to the joint. Well, I mentioned we would be having dinner the next night, so I promised I'd steer us over there. He paid me $500 up front and then a girl slipped me another $500 once we arrived. He seemed to know you by name. He wanted an important executive like you to come; good for business."

  Colin tapped his pen on the desk. "That's pretty strange. Why didn't you tell me about that?"

  "Ah, greed I guess. I wanted to keep the money. But now I feel bad and would like to split it with you, especially since you're the one he really wanted to be there."

  "No, don't worry about it. We all had a good time, so you earned your money. I'
m surprised, though, that these places are promoting themselves like that. And I'm really concerned that he had my name. I never go to places like that."

  "Recession, I guess. Businesses these days will stoop to any tactic that works. And they do their research, I guess, just like we do in our businesses. And this tactic worked. We spent far more than $1,000 dollars last night, and we'll probably all be back there again sometime."

  Sooner than you think, Colin mused to himself. They said their goodbyes and Colin turned back to the files that he had piling up around him. But he couldn't stop thinking of that exotic Arab body gyrating in front of him. He got excited thinking that if he wanted to, he could go back there tonight. After all, she had specifically invited him. Him! How many strippers would invite a man back like that? Can't happen too often. She must have liked him. However, if he did go back, he would have to shut off any conversation about the large policy she wanted on her father. He was sure she had been joking with him, but if she wasn't, what she was asking was unethical and illegal and he couldn't do it. However, maybe he could just string her along for a while, make her think that he'd do it—just so he could have some more fun.

  Colin got up and paced the room. What was he thinking? He was acting like a schoolboy with hormones racing. He had a lovely wife and two boys—a family he loved deeply. He had to stop this before it got out of hand. Colin picked up the family portrait from the credenza, and stared at it. Tears came to his eyes. How could he think of betraying them? Was he going through a mid-life crisis?

  He shook his head and decided in that instant that he would not go back to that strip joint. He would put Fadiyah out of his head, and be home for dinner tonight—on time for a change.

  Colin sat down at his desk, satisfied with his decision. He spent the next couple of hours on the computer, working up volume and expense projections for the next quarter. He was fully absorbed in his work when the phone rang.

  "Hello?"

  "Hi handsome. It is Fadiyah. Are you coming back to see me tonight?" Her voice—seductive, visual. He could practically see her bejeweled belly button, green eyes, and long, black hair hanging down past her beautiful breasts. Colin shuddered with excitement.

  He struggled with conflict but heard himself saying, "Hi Fadiyah. Thanks for spending time with me last night, but I won't be coming back again. It's not for me."

  "Oh—I am so sorry to hear that. Can I say anything at all to change your mind? A promise, perhaps?"

  Colin shuddered again at the sound of her voice and the meaning of her words. But he held fast. "No, Fadiyah. Thanks again. I'm rather busy and have to hang up now, okay?"

  Suddenly the tone of her voice changed. "No, not okay. Listen to this— perhaps it will change your mind." Colin heard a click, and then a slurry version of his own voice:

  He felt bile coming up from his stomach, stinging his throat. Colin swallowed hard. "Fadiyah, what's the meaning of this?"

  "You are a big smart executive. I am sure you can figure it out. Be here at the club tonight, 7:00 sharp." Then she hung up.

  Colin sat back in his chair and put his feet up on the desk. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat. Then his quick brain started to rationalize. Sure, she wanted something from him—probably that fraudulent life insurance policy on her father. After that, she probably planned to have her father killed. He'd seen it before. His job was to make the funds happen. However, what did she really have on him—a tape of his voice making an incriminating statement while intoxicated was hardly something that would hold up, he didn't think. It was just a tape, and his voice could be impersonated.

  Maybe he could just give her some money and she'd go away. Yes, that's what he'd do tonight.

  At 6:00 p.m., he phoned Karen to let her know he'd be late getting home. No answer—that was strange. She was always home at this time, preparing dinner for the kids. And if she were busy in the kitchen, one of the boys would usually answer. Maybe they all went to the store, or out for a walk with the dog. Yes, that was it. Nothing to worry about.

  Colin turned off his computer and left the office around 6:45 p.m., for the short walk to the Big Shots Club—a play on words? He had phoned Karen one more time before he left, but still no answer.

  He arrived at the club, which was mostly empty at this time, taking a seat near the stage where a buxom blonde was doing her thing. Colin was disinterested—a naked woman was the last thing on his mind right now. This time the thought that he was sitting in this sleazy place made him feel sick to his stomach.

  He couldn't see Fadiyah anywhere in the room. Several half-naked women were hanging around in groups talking, but none of them looked like her. Then one girl caught him looking; she sashayed over to his table.

  "Hi there. Would you like me to dance for you?"

  "No. Actually, I'm looking for a girl named 'Fadiyah.' Could you ask her to join me, please?"

  She looked hurt. "No one here by that name, honey. I know all the girls. She may be a part-timer. We get some of those for a night or two, then they're gone." She walked off in a huff. Colin was puzzled, but also a little bit relieved. Maybe Fadiyah was a transient, and had just moved on. Maybe she had just been having a little fun with him.

  Colin got up and started for the door, anxious to make a beeline out of there and put this whole episode behind him.

  Suddenly he felt a heavy hand on his shoulder and he whirled around to see a tall, well-dressed, Middle Eastern man. He had a movie star air about him, a gold chain around his neck, and expensive rings on several fingers.

  The man smiled at him, and said in an authoritative voice, "Colin Spence—follow me, please."

  Colin sputtered something, but the man simply grabbed him by the arm and ushered him back to the same sleazy room he had been in the night before. Once inside, the man shoved him onto the couch and said, "We have some business to discuss."

  The man introduced himself as David. He then told Colin to shut up and listen.

  The 'business' was that Colin had been selected. He had been selected because he was an executive in charge of both Underwriting and Claims at a life insurance company that was privately owned. As that kind of executive, he had absolute power over both the acceptance of risk and the payment of claims. It was rare to have one executive in charge of both, so that's why he was perfect for his assignment. In addition, due to Ontario Life Insurance Company being privately owned, there were far less oversight regulations and far fewer audits. And less detailed. So, the combination was perfect.

  Colin was told that he was expected to enter into an arrangement with David, whereby Colin would approve life insurance applications for people who didn't exist, and pay claims based on phony death certificates. All proper documentation would be provided by David as to phony birth certificates, driver's licenses, profiles, fake medicals, background checks, death certificates. All Colin had to do was process the applications and pay the claims. Simple.

  For Colin's agreement to participate, he would receive absolutely nothing in return. Colin got up from the couch and was promptly shoved back down again.

  "You will agree to this, yes?"

  "This is preposterous! I won't agree to this. Why would I? I'm going to the police."

  David pulled out a recorder and played Colin's voice and his slurry statement that Fadiyah had made him listen to over the phone.

  Colin glared into the Arab's black eyes, and said, "That proves nothing." David smiled. "There are cameras in this room." He pointed. "Up there in the ventilation ducts. So, be patient while I show you what else we have." He pulled out a camera phone and shoved it in front of Colin's face. He could clearly see and hear himself and watched in horror the entire encounter with Fadiyah. This film could go to his wife, his employer, or perish the thought— the internet.

  "Fadiyah is beautiful, no? She is my associate and she does wonderful work." The Arab displayed his perfectly crowned teeth as he smiled at Colin, evil oozing from his eyes.

  Colin felt as i
f he was going to pass out. But he mustered enough anger and bravado to say, "Fuck off, you prick. I'm not going to be blackmailed. Do what you need to do with that film and I'll take my chances. I will not—repeat, not—do what you want me to do."

  At that, Colin got up again and this time David didn't shove him back down. Instead, he noticed him speed dial a number on his phone, and heard him say two words, "Do it."

  Then David put his arm around Colin's shoulders as if he were his best friend. "Go home and think about it. Come here tomorrow night and let me know your decision. Right now I think your wife, Karen, needs you." Then David shoved him through the door and slammed it behind him.

  When Colin arrived home an hour later, the police and an ambulance were already there. Karen had been brutally raped and beaten. His boys had been tied up and gagged in another room. At least whoever did this hadn't made the boys watch. And he couldn't deny that he knew who was behind this.

  A broken man, Colin went back to the Big Shots Club the next night and agreed to the terms of the 'partnership.' While there he kept his anger in check and thought only of his lovely wife lying in a hospital bed, and his anguished sons waiting for him at their grandma's house.

  The partnership had now lasted three years. And this partnership had seen the life insurance proceeds of twenty-five "deaths" totaling thirty million dollars on people who didn't exist, being paid out to a myriad of David's ironclad aliases.

  Colin turned left on Lowther and headed to the familiar tenement house where he had spent many an evening. At their last meeting he had advised David that an external audit was coming at his company within the next six months. The owners planned to go public, and the audit was the first step in the submission to the TSX. David had just smiled calmly and said, "We'll talk about that at our next meeting."