You Ain't No Einstein!

You Ain't No Einstein!

“You ain’t no Einstein, are ya?”

Mitch just looked at Arnold “call me Arnie” Kalicki, his boss, and couldn’t help but be struck by the irony.

No, thought Mitch, I’m no Einstein, but at least I can speak English. And I’m a member of Mensa. And I have two post-graduate degrees. And I’m a five-time Jeopardy champion. You sir, are a troglodyte. 

Mitch sighed.

But Arnie didn’t know any of that. All he just knew was that Mitch didn’t know how to use the skid lifter, or as Arnie called it, THE THING. Forget the fact that he had never been shown how to work THE THING. Forget that it was Arnie who was supposed to have trained him on THE THING. None of that mattered. What mattered to Arnie was that he was able to insult Mitch about his lack of, what Arnie considered, common knowledge.  

“Einstein? You mean the dog in Back to the Future?” said Mitch.

Arnie just looked at him. “I can’t believe someone as stupid as you got hired. I hope ya don’t have any kids! The world don’t need no more stupid people!”

Case in point, thought Mitch.

Mitch was getting really, really tired of Arnie’s putdowns, but it was part of the job. Arnie was on him everyday. And everyday Mitch asked himself how badly he needed to keep this job, and everyday he had the same answer — badly. Badly enough to take the crap that Arnie dished out to him whenever they spoke.  

All the guys in the shop talked about Arnie’s asshole behaviour. They all agreed, in private, that he was a bully. But no one ever called him on it. They were all afraid of him. Mitch had heard stories about Arnie’s vindictive nature. One guy had reported him to the union, and poof, the guy’s good inside job turned into a shit job outside. Another guy had called Arnie on his bullying in front of everyone. The guy had been beaten up walking home from the subway that same night. One of the women in the office had complained to management about Arnie’s sexist behaviour — he kept grabbing her ass, and talking about what he wanted her to do for him. Soon after she made the complaint to HR, she quit her job with no warning, and moved away. No one knew for sure why, but they guessed that Arnie had threatened her.

Arnie was a bully. Everyone in the shop knew it. But no one spoke up. Mitch didn’t know why everyone remained mute, but he knew he was getting dangerously close to having a “discussion” with Arnie. Out back. Just the two of them. 

Except Arnie was always surrounded by The Guys, as Mitch referred to them — three big burly men who were always following Arnie around. Mitch had started thinking of them as Arnie’s henchmen. And, he’d never seen them do any actual work, unless it was one of the special loads — then they were the only ones who touched it.

Mitch worked the day shift at the warehouse. All loads came in through the loading docks at the front of the building. Mitch was pretty sure not all of the products delivered ended up at their final destination — he’d seen some things “walk” out the back door, the equivalent of falling off a truck. But that kind of thing happened at a lot of warehouses, for a lot of different reasons.

It was the other things he saw that caught his interest. Every couple of days special loads were delivered to the warehouse through the back doors, not the front, like all the legit loads. These loads had no paperwork, and they weren’t shelved for later pickup and delivery. But would be gone the next morning. The warehouse didn’t have an overnight shift — it was a straight day shift operation, no other shifts. And these loads were handled only by The Guys. And on Fridays The Guys would go into Arnie’s office right before end of shift, and come out a couple of minutes later with envelopes. Mitch was pretty sure it wasn’t “atta boy” letters from the boss. Mitch wondered how much extra money The Guys were making taking care of the special loads.

And Arnie, a guy who was making no more than eighty grand a year, was driving a brand new Ram 1500 TRX Ignition Edition that Mitch knew went for over a hundred grand. The guy drove a pickup truck worth more than a year’s salary. Nothing fishy about that, right?

Mitch, believed in the adage know your enemy, so he had started following Arnie during his off hours. Arnie was divorced — colour Mitch surprised — but he lived in quite the house. It was in the suburbs, in a really nice neighbourhood. Not a gated-community-nice, but still pretty nice. All the houses were on half acre lots, triple garages — suburbia at its finest. Mitch checked the cost of houses in that area — well north of two million. As well, there was a Lexus SUV and a boat parked in the driveway. Who knew what else was in locked up in the garage. 

As well, Mitch had found out that Arnie had a place in Florida — a swanky condo on the beach in Miami. And a six bedroom “cottage” in the Laurentian mountains. That was a lot of real estate for a warehouse supervisor. 

Which made Mitch all the more curious. Where’d the money come from? Maybe Arnie owned the warehouse? Nope. It was owned by some company that was owned by a rich old guy who made his fortune in trucking. Maybe Mitch was independently wealthy? Nope. He’d worked at the warehouse for 27 years, only claimed his salary on his taxes. His parents? Nope. Dad was a steelworker, mom was a stay-at-home parent. Maybe his ex-wife was independently wealthy? Nope, she was an elementary school teacher. Mitch checked her out as well — her house was even nicer than Mitch’s. Maybe he won the lottery? Not that Mitch could find out, and that info was in the public domain. 

There could be other reasons — he was good at the stock market, he had invented some special thing that made him millions, or he'd written a best seller, but Mitch was pretty sure Arnie wasn’t that smart. Hell, if Mitch wasn’t Einstein smart, Arnie was only Homer Simpson smart, at best. On a good day. Nope, this guy was making his money some other way.

Mitch began to wonder more about the the unscheduled deliveries that disappeared over night. What was in them? And The Guys and their envelopes. Where’d Arnie get the cash? He started watching the warehouse at night on the days that the special loads arrived. Arnie would arrive first, just before midnight. Then a little after midnight, a tractor-trailer would pull up to one of the loading docks, and The Guys would get out of the truck, and go into the warehouse. A few hours later, the truck would pull away, then Arnie would leave. Mitch was pretty sure Arnie wasn’t working overtime. 

Over the last three weeks, Mitch had found out a lot about Arnie. But that wasn’t enough. He wanted to know exactly what was going on. So, the next day, when a special load arrived, Mitch had a plan. He would hide in the warehouse after everyone left, and wait for Arnie to come back that night. One problem. His truck — he couldn’t leave it parked in the lot. Arnie would see it for sure.  He had to come up with a plan.

“Hey, James, can you do me a favour?”

James was the second newest guy in the warehouse, and so happy that Mitch was hired because Arnie’s focus was now on Mitch and not him.  

“Sure. What?”

“Can you pick me up from the dealership? My truck needs to be serviced.”

“Sure. When?”

“Noon.”

“Cool.”

So, James picked up Mitch at the GMC dealership at noon, and drove him back to the warehouse. Thing was, Mitch’s truck was actually parked down the street from the warehouse behind an abandoned gas station. Easy access for a quick get away.

“Need me to take you to the dealership to pick up your truck after work?” asked James.

“Nah,” said Mitch. “They’ll send someone to pick me up here after shift.”

“Cool.”

At the end of the shift, at 4:30 pm, everyone left the warehouse. Except Mitch. Instead, he cloistered himself at the back of the warehouse up in the rafters, away from everyone, just him and his binoculars. As expected, Arnie arrived a little before midnight and switched off the alarm once he was inside, and turned on all the lights. 

From his vantage point, Mitch watched Arnie open the loading dock door as the truck backed in. Arnie then opened the man-door, and Mitch watched as The Guys entered the warehouse, and walked towards the special load. Two of the men commandeered two of the forklifts, and the other man moved the un-palleted merchandise towards the open bay door, with the use of a handcart and brute strength.

Mitch hadn’t been able to get close to the unregistered load, so he had no idea what was in it, but it looked like a mish-mash of different things. There were big boxes, small boxes, pallets piled high, smaller security locked pallets. It all went into the back of the truck.

Then there were the women. Once all the merchandise had been loaded into the trailer, Arnie went to the back of the warehouse and opened the rear man door, and in walked six women. They were mostly young, and of different ethnicities. Each woman was given two bottles of water, and ushered into the back of the truck, which was closed and locked.  

“What the hell?” Mitch murmured quietly to himself. He had no idea that any of Arnie’s nefarious activities included human trafficking!  What an douche! Only complete and utter assholes trafficked in women.  

Mitch started to move. He had to get out of the warehouse before Arnie closed up and left, or he’d be trapped inside. He did not want to spend the night in the warehouse.  

Or did he?  

He stayed exactly where he was and waited until Arnie locked up the warehouse. Mitch knew that there were alarms on the doors and windows, but no motion detectors. And the cameras were so old that they recorded to a VCR.  He waited fifteen minutes until he was sure Arnie wasn’t coming back, then crept to Arnie’s office. As he powered up Arnie’s computer, Mitch searched around for his passwords. Arnie did not seem like the type of guy who would take the time to memorize his passwords. He was more of a put-the-password-somewhere-easy-to-find guy. And Arnie did not disappoint. After thirty seconds Mitch found Arnie’s passwords — for everything — on a piece of paper under his desk blotter. Mitch took a photo of the passwords with his phone, and got to work on the computer. At first, everything looked above-board. Electronic records of loads delivered, loads shipped, billing, receivables — all seemed legit and above board. Then he looked a little deeper, at the oddly named folders found within the “misc” folder, in the bottom right-hand side of the screen, right above the trash bin.  

Okay, thought Mitch. Convenient if you need to get rid of it quickly.

He scanned the files quickly. Yup, they were the other set of books, Arnie’s private records, including names, dates, and items that illegally entered the warehouse, and bank accounts. The motherlode.  Mitch loved it when a plan came together.

He pulled out his keys, and uncapped the thumb drive he always had attached to the ring, and downloaded the files.  

Good thing I’m a nerd, he thought smiling to himself as he copied all of Arnie’s files — legit and not so legit. Otherwise I’d be spending the entire night printing this stuff.

Mitch powered down the computer, and was about to leave Arnie’s office when he heard a noise in the warehouse. It was the main door being unlocked, and lights flicking on. 

Shit, shit, shit, shit! 

Mitch looked around, frantically trying to find a place to hide. He moved to Arnie’s coat closet, opened the door, slipping inside, softly closing the door, but not latching it — leaving it open just enough to peek through.

Mitch heard footsteps approaching the office. He held his breath.  

“Ya, sorry about this. I just gotta to pick up the paperwork, and we’re done.” 

Mitch didn’t hear another voice, so he figured Arnie was talking to someone on his phone. He burst into the office, and headed towards his desk.

“Ya. Fine.” He ended his call, and stuffed his phone into his jacket pocket, and started looking for something on his desk. Mitch watched him search his the drawers.

“Where the fuck is it?” he mumbled, still searching, getting a little frantic.

“Ha!” 

Mitch watched as Arnie grabbed a couple of sheets of paper, walked over to the copier, and feed the sheets through. When he finished, he put the papers back in his drawer, and left, folding the copies and stuffing them in his pocket as he walked away. Mitch tracked Arnie’s footsteps across the warehouse floor, and as the lights when out, he heard a few electronic beeps while the security system was armed.  

Mitch let out a long breath, and relaxed. Again, he waited fifteen minutes before he dared to leave the closet. He walked over to the desk, and pulled out the papers that Arnie had copied.

“Thank you, Arnie.” He smiled.

It was the list of where the women he had seen loaded on the truck were headed — two were headed to a massage parlour in town, three were going to a clothing manufacturing plant (read sweat shop), and the last woman was headed to a private residence as a domestic. Not just any address. It was Arnie’s address.

“Son of a bitch!”

Mitch took pictures of the list, put the papers back, and headed out. Thanks to Arnie, he had the alarm code to get out.

*****

“So, how you doing, ‘Mitch?” asked Detective Terry Waits, a smile on her face.

She was talking to her partner, Detective Carols Ito, who had, up until a couple of hours ago, been “Mitch” a guy who worked at a warehouse.

“I’m fine. Pretty good, actually.” He smiled at his partner. “Miss me, Waits?”

“Like the plague, Ito, like the plague.”

The both looked at the monitor, showing Arnie Kalicki sitting in the interrogation room at the metal table. He fidgeted and looked nervous.  

Ito and Waits walked into the room, and took the two metal chairs across from Arnie. 

“What the hell’s that dumb ass doin’ here?” Arnie asked, hiking his thumb in Ito’s direction.

“You mean, Detective Ito?” asked Waits, a slight smile playing at her lips.

“Nah,” said Arnie. “He ain’t no detective. He’s Mitch Flores, and he works for me at the warehouse. Not that he does a good job.” Arnie snorted. “I shoulda fired his ass.”

Ito pulled out his badge, and showed it to Arnie, who looked from the badge, to Ito, and back to the badge.

“No frickin’ way!” he said, looking directly at Ito. “You ain’t no cop. You’re an idiot. Idiots can be cops.” Arnie continued to shake his head in disbelief.

“Trust me,” said Waits. “He’s a cop.” She folded her arms across her chest. “A damn good cop, too. He fooled you.” Arnie looked away from Ito.

“So,” said Arnie, ignoring Waits’s dig. “What’s this all about?”  

He was full of bluster, trying to look intimidating, but sweat was rolling down the sides of his face. 

Not so tough now, are ya Arnie? thought Ito.

Ito took out his notebook, and said, “Theft, possession of stolen goods, possession of drugs for the purpose of trafficking.” Ito looked up at Arnie. “Oh, yeah, and human trafficking.”

Arnie looked unconcerned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Arnie,” said Ito, “We stopped the truck that I saw at the warehouse tonight.”

“You weren’t there.”

“Yes, I was,” said Ito.

“I woulda seen ya tonight. You weren’t there.”

Ito smiled. “So, you were at the warehouse tonight.”

“I wasn’t no where near the warehouse,” he said. He stopped and thought about what he’d just said. “I’m just sayin’ if I was at the warehouse, I woulda known you was there.”

“That’s fine, Arnie,” said Ito. “I was there, and I saw you.”

Arnie blanched a bit, but said nothing.

Ito continued. “Arnie, we stopped the truck, and your guys gave you up, in a heartbeat.” Ito gave him a hard stare. “And we rescued the women.”

Arnie blanched a lot more this time.

“You can’t prove that I knew anything about this,” Arnie said, some of his bluster returning.

“Arnie, I filmed everything I saw tonight. And I’ve got your computer files.”

“How’d you get those? There ain’t no paper copies! They’re on my computer, and it’s got a password.”

“Arnie, your password is “password,” and there’s a list of all your passwords and pass codes on a sheet of paper under your desk blotter.  That made it so much easier.”

Arnie started to hyperventilate.

“Arnie,” said Ito, smiling, “You’re no criminal mastermind. You sure as hell ain’t no Einstein.”