Risk

The Trap

Dinner was a nuke-able entrée eaten out of the container in the kitchen. No beer tonight. He was going to be on a mission. He had to stake out a nuclear parts manufacturer and catch a couple of burglars in the act. Burglars who probably worked for an international arms dealer. Nope. It didn’t get old no matter how many times he said it to himself.

His whole body was tingling in anticipation. The darkest outfit he could find was an old black track suit, which was a little ratty, but would suffice for this evening’s activities. Because it could get cold depending on how long he had to wait, he had his winter coat just in case. They might not even come tonight, he thought all of a sudden. He had his cell phone, fully charged, and a Thermos of coffee in a gym bag. And some chocolate bars. He didn’t feel great about that, but he might need the sustenance.

Locking up his apartment, he cut a strange figure, all dressed in black with a parka and a gym bag, standing in the hallway. Might as well be a burglar himself in this get-up, he thought to himself on his way down the hall. He took the elevator down to the parking garage, started the Tercel and let it warm up for a couple of minutes. Lots of time, he figured. It was just after 8:00, so the factory had only closed an hour ago and it wouldn’t be dark out for almost an hour.

Winding his way up the two levels of underground parking ramp, he emerged onto Finch Avenue and headed east. The radio was playing something melancholy, and he searched for something more up-tempo. An oldies station was playing the Stones “Start Me Up,” so he bopped along to that, feeling good. The song reminded him of the time just after he had graduated university. He had been glad to get the hell out at that point, and very eager to start up his new career, so the song had a special meaning for him. If only he had known that his start in insurance would stretch out into years of sameness, veering suddenly into this unlikely adventure.

When he came to Midland and turned left, instead of turning left again, towards Silver Star Boulevard, he took a right down a residential side street and parked his car there. He walked back across Midland and over to Kilcullen Castle Gate, the little side street off Silver Star where he and George had parked the time before. He walked along the front of an industrial plaza there which was all closed up for the evening, turned the corner and kept walking down toward the next building.

In between the two structures was an alleyway which was not artificially lit, and which gave him a clear view of the end of Silver Star Boulevard and Ultimate Diecasting. He sat down and leaned against the wall so he could monitor what went on over there, zipping up his parka as it was already a little chilly since the sun had gone down and the wind had picked up. Setting out his supplies for the evening, he poured himself a cup of coffee, milk and sugar already mixed in, and took a long sip.

The sky was almost dark and he could see city lights spread out in all directions in the distance. It really was a massive, sprawling metropolis. It had all seemed so huge and unknowable at first. He had moved here for a job and the city was so alien and impersonal to him, but once he had gotten to know Toronto, he realized that it was made up of all these small villages and neighborhoods, each with an energy and identity and parking problems all their own. Little Italy, Chinatown, Greektown, The Annex, Bloor West Village... all these places had their own unique character.

Best of all was the blessed anonymity. The feeling that he could go anywhere without fear of being recognized all the time by people who knew him in third grade. Or worse, high school. Here, he could keep himself to himself, something the big city buzz and hurry actually facilitated.

Now that he thought about it, the keeping to himself had begun around third grade. His mom had had a bad pregnancy when he was eight and there was a lot of whispered talk and “What do we do about Martin?” amongst the adults. His mom ended up in a prolonged stay in hospital on strict bed rest and Martin stayed with his Polish grandmother who spoke very little English. He had just learned to read, so he began doing a lot of it just to amuse himself. The quiet of the house and the stress on the adults' faces went away when he entered the realms of Prydain and Middle Earth.