The Darkness hp-5 Page 18

  “I know what you mean,” Morgan said.

  “I bet you do.”

  Theo and Morgan got off the train at Twenty-third and

  Park and headed east. The Manhattan neighborhood of

  Gramercy tended to be full of young professionals who enjoyed the area’s local bars (both dive and trendy).

  Morgan used to come here often for the movie theater at

  Kips Bay, and noticed that over the last few years the population appeared to grow a little more affluent, likely due to doctors working at Bellevue and small business owners who moved into vacated storefronts.

  They walked side by side, matching briefcases slung over their shoulders. If anybody looked at them, it was only because they might have been slightly jealous that two younger guys had weathered the economic storm, as that could be the only explanation for their attire and accessories.

  Morgan took out the cell phone from his coat pocket.

  It was old, nearly an antique, and he was amazed that this piece of junk still even worked. Still, Leonard had given it to them for a reason.

  Right after they’d packed up their briefcases with specific quantities of various drugs, Leonard had given them each a cell phone. And this was how it worked.

  Before they left the warehouse/club, they’d be given an address. The address was of their first customer of the day. The customer had called somebody, probably some sort of switchboard at another location, and placed an order. That order was relayed to one of the courier teams, who were then dispatched to the location. The customer would also have placed an order and they were also quoted a price. Once arriving at the location, Leonard said, they would make the transaction with the customer.

  Once leaving the customer’s address, they would call the number programmed in the cell phone as Home.

  After confirming the deal, they would be sent a text message with the address of their next transaction, as well as the price quoted to the customer for whatever they’d requested.

  Obviously there would be a little flexibility, as sometimes the customer would buy more than they’d initially requested. And sometimes, of course, they would buy less, often because the customer didn’t have enough money to pay for the goods.

  It was a regular business, Leonard said.

  All orders would be kept track of, and Leonard’s people also knew the exact quantities of drugs given to the couriers as well as their value. At the end of the day,

  Leonard said, just like any other business they would make sure the goods matched the receipts, and confirm that all the money was handed over.

  Assuming Theo and Morgan were honest, they would have no problems. If there were ever any payment issues, or they’d taken in more (or less) money than expected, all they had to do was relay the information.

  The quicker they worked the more money they made, the more stops they’d be able to hit during the day. You wanted to take a two-hour lunch? Your take would suffer.

  Get caught in traffic? Tough shit.

  The only people who moved up in this world were the ones who fully dedicated themselves. You want vacation days? You got ’em. Only your creditors don’t really think of them that way.

  The first stop was on Nineteenth and Third, off the corner of the avenue, a brownstone wedged between a cellular phone store and a diner. Morgan walked up and pressed the buzzer for 5A, taking a quick look around them to see if anyone was watching.

  “You need to relax, man,” Theo said. “Ain’t nobody thinking twice about us.”

  “Who is it?” came the scratchy voice.

  “Delivery,” Morgan said.

  “I didn’t order… Oh wait, yeah, come right up.”

  Another buzzer went off and the door unlatched. They entered the lobby and went over to the elevator. It was not a particularly nice brownstone. The floor tiles were chipping, and it looked like with just minimum force he could have pried open any mailbox he chose.

  The elevator arrived and they took it to the fifth floor in silence. Morgan held his briefcase, feeling the plastic crinkle through the leather. Theo watched him do this but said nothing.

  When the door opened, they turned left (A-D) and rang the doorbell for 5A.

  “Who is it?” the familiar voice said.

  “Delivery,” Morgan said.

  “Oh yeah, right, come on in.”

  The door opened, revealing a tall, thin guy in his mid-thirties wearing pajama bottoms, a loose T-shirt and slippers. The apartment behind him was sparingly furnished. There was a cot covered in faded blankets, an old twenty-four-inch television, and a bookshelf with textbooks. Morgan looked closer. The textbooks had odd titles like Principles of Economics and Finan- cial Management: Theory and Practice. The books looked well used.

  The man had a three-day beard growth and his hair looked like it hadn’t been combed since the last time he’d shaved. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his breathing was quick. Morgan had no doubt the man had a serious coke problem. He supposed that’s why they were there.

  The man moved out of the way and ushered them inside, waving his hand like he was shooing away an unpleasant smell.

  “Two of you,” he said, looking at Theo. “Is he like your bodyguard?”

  Theo simply replied, “One eight ball. That right?”

  The man nodded his head vigorously and reached out his hand.

  Theo placed his briefcase on a small wooden coffee table, stained with circular rings and other substances that couldn’t even be guessed. Theo undid the lock and rummaged through the case, eventually coming up with a small plastic pouch containing white powder. Marked on the outside were the numbers 1/8, for an eighth of an ounce.

  The man’s eyes went wide.

  “That’s a hundred and fifty,” Theo said.

  The man reached into his pockets (it didn’t occur to

  Morgan that they made pajama bottoms that had pockets) and pulled out seven crumpled twenties and two fives. He handed them over to Theo like he was getting rid of toxic material. He put out his hand eagerly and Theo dropped the pouch into it.

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” Theo said.

  “Hey, man, one sec,” the guy said, his eyes rimmed with red. “I heard about this new drug, dark something.”

  “Darkness,” Theo said.

  “Yeah. Supposedly it’ll mess you up right. You ever tried it?”

  Morgan shook his head. Theo said, “No.”

  The guy stammered, almost embarrassed. “You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”

  “Matter of fact,” Theo said, “we do. How much do you want?”

  “I’m not sure,” the guy said. “How much is enough for a few good hits? I don’t want to love the stuff and have to call you right back.”

  “Three rocks,” Theo said. “We have an introductory offer, and it’s enough for a few hits.”

  “And how much is this introductory offer?”

  “Three rocks? That’ll run you fifty bucks for the first purchase. Call it a beginner’s discount. After that it’s twenty-five a pop.”

  “S’not bad,” the guy said. “Can I try the intro offer?”

  “Let me see the money.”

  “Yeah, money, hold on one sec.”

  The guy walked out of the living room and into a side room. Morgan heard him rummaging around and cursing.

  Then he came out with five neatly folded tens.

  “My old lady’ll kill me if she knows I used this. Supposed to be for emergencies and stuff. Ever since we both lost our jobs, money’s hard to come by.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Morgan said. Theo shot him a look.

  “Fifty for three,” Theo said. He took another small plastic pouch from the briefcase, containing three small black rocks.

  “How do you…do it?” the guy asked.

  “Two ways, either a pipe-same way you’d smoke weed-or you can crush it up, cook it and inhale like that.

  They’re both pretty potent.”

  “Gotcha.” He
handed Theo the bills, and Theo dropped the pouch on top of the cocaine.

  “That it?”

  “That’s it until my unemployment check comes at the end of the week. Thanks, fellas.”

  Theo didn’t say a word. Morgan followed him out the door. When the elevator door had closed behind them,

  Morgan said, “That was impressive. Not sure if I would have remembered all of that.”

  “For your sake I hope you do. I’m not gonna be doing all the talking at every stop.”

  The elevator began to go down, but then there was a screeching noise and the car ground to a halt. Morgan looked up at the display. The light had stopped between the second and third floors. They were stuck.

  “Just perfect,” Morgan said.

  “No,” Theo said softly, an undercurrent of anger in his voice. “No! Goddammit, come on!”

  “Hey, man, take it easy. I’m sure we’ll get going in no time.”

  Theo kicked the elevator door hard, leaving a small dent in the metal. “Let’s move this crate!” He jammed his thumb against the emergency button. When he released it, he jammed it in again.

  “I think they heard us,” Morgan said.

  “Are you kidding? Roach motel like this, I bet the super doesn’t even live on the premises. We could be stuck here all day.”

  Morgan looked at the roof of the car, hoping there might be some easily opened hatch where they could boost each other out onto the roof, then find a ladder or escape hatch that would lead them to freedom. Sadly, Morgan realized, those kind of things only existed in Die Hard films, and the roof of this car was one solid piece of metal.

  “Okay,” he said. “Maybe we can pry the doors open.”

  Theo kicked the door again, widening his boot imprint.

  “I don’t think that’s helping.”

  “Listen, asshole,” Theo said. “Every second we’re stuck in here, there are other folks selling product. And when they come back at the end of the day with higher receipts than us, you tell me then to calm down. I’m not in this to lose, Morgan.”

  Morgan stood there, nodded, figuring anything he said would only enrage Theo more.

  Five minutes went by. Ten. Theo stopped kicking.

  He tried his cell phone, but they didn’t get reception in the elevator.

  Theo was shaking. His hands were trembling, knees knocking against one another. A sheen of moisture appeared on the young man’s lip, and he licked it away, his eyes darting around the car looking for some way out.

  “Theo, you okay?”

  “Shut up, I’m trying to figure out how we can get out of here.”

  “I don’t think…”

  “I said shut the hell up.”

  Morgan moved into the corner of the elevator, looked at his watch and hoped for a miracle.

  Finally, after fifteen minutes, Morgan felt a jolt and the elevator began to move.

  “Oh, thank God,” Theo said.

  Morgan held his breath until they reached the first floor, then as soon as the doors opened the pair bolted into the lobby before the elevator could change its mind.

  “Holy crap, man,” Theo said. His hands were shaking, and his brow was covered with sweat. “I was worried we’d be stuck in there until the cleaning crew came by or the thing just detached from its cables.”

  “Well, we’re out now,” Morgan said. “We can get back to business.”

  “Next stop,” Theo said, still breathing heavy, “you handle all the talking.”

  “No problem. I’m a fast learner.”

  “You might be a fast learner, but I’ve already learned.”

  Theo looked at Morgan with a cocky smile, letting him know that they weren’t just partners, but competitors.

  Theo wanted to move up the ranks just as much as

  Morgan did, and the longer it took Morgan to catch up the farther ahead Theo would pull. His reaction inside the elevator only proved it. Theo didn’t want to waste a single second not making money.

  They exited the building into the early sunlight,

  Morgan squinting as he took out the cell phone to wait for the location of their next customer.

  “That went easy,” Theo said.

  “Yeah. Hope they’re all like that.”

  “I’m sure some of these freaks will be a little more strung out than our man up there but just remember that all they want in the end is the stuff. They don’t want to haggle and they don’t want a lot of fuss. Some of these guys might have coke muscles, but if in the end they think you’re going to hold out on them, they’ll bend faster than an elbow.”

  “I hear you.”

  “So what’s the next stop?” Theo asked.

  Morgan looked at his cell phone, reception returning after the elevator fiasco. He had one new text message.

  Morgan pressed Retrieve Messages, and an address appeared on the screen.

  “That can’t be right,” Morgan said.

  “What? Where is it?”

  Morgan checked the time and date it was sent. The time stamp was dated just minutes ago, while they were stuck in the elevator.

  “Hold on, I need to confirm this.”

  Morgan went to the address book and dialed the number marked Home. A strange, deep, robotic voice answered. It was clearly being masked by some sort of voice-altering technology.

  “Yes?” the voice said.

  “Hi, uh, this is Isaacs and Goggins. We just wanted to confirm the address just sent to us.”

  “Three-forty East Nineteenth. Apartment five A,” the voice said.

  “Yeah, um, that’s where we just left.”

  “And that’s where you’re going back to.”

  “Uh, okay.”

  The voice explained the situation to Morgan, who stood there, eyes widening. He understood everything that was being relayed, but couldn’t understand why it was happening so quick.

  He didn’t know what was in those little black rocks, but it must have thrown pajama dude in 5A for a loop.

  The other line went dead. Morgan closed the phone and put it back in his pocket.

  “What was that?” Theo said.

  “We’re going right back upstairs,” Morgan said. “That guy we just sold to, he took one hit of the Darkness and put in an order for half a dozen more rocks at the standard price. Guy said it was the best high he’s ever experienced.”

  “Good for him, good for us,” Theo said.

  “And,” Morgan continued, “after we’re done here they’re sending over another address where the customer wants another ten. Home base said to expect a lot of

  Darkness deliveries today.”

  “Another hundred and fifty bucks for five minutes’ work,” Theo said. He tried to whistle, but again it came out more like an aborted attempt at a raspberry. “Let’s not keep the man waiting.”

  “Agreed,” Morgan said. He felt a strange sensation, and for a moment couldn’t place it. Then, as they were about to reenter the brownstone, it occurred to Morgan the last time he’d felt that singular feeling of joy, confidence and ambition.

  The day he got his first paycheck at his old job. That was the first day he truly felt like he was going to conquer the world.

  “Let’s hurry it up,” Morgan said. “But this time let’s take the stairs.”

  29

  “Always makes me smile a little,” Jack said.

  “What does?”

  “Tourists. They spend thousands of dollars to see this city, but they really know nothing about it. You don’t get a sense of Manhattan by taking pictures or sitting on a double-decker bus.”

  “Not everyone has had the fortune of being at gunpoint in Vietnam,” I said. “For some people this is as close as they can get.”

  “I suppose,” Jack said, “but sometimes I wonder if I even understand the city after all these years.”

  “Are you still thinking about Paulina’s article?” I asked.

  “A little. I never used to get scooped, Henry. Every time

  I
went out for lunch, I could feel a dozen eyes on me, hating me. They were other reporters, and they were staring daggers through me because they knew I was working on stories that they’d never get. They’d be working mop-up duty on yesterday’s page seven while I was breaking news.

  It’s a great feeling to be hated for doing your job well. And right now, I hate Paulina Cole. Not because she tried to ruin my life, but because she got a story that I didn’t. So not only do I hate her, but I hate her for making me hate her.”

  “That’s a lot of hate to be carrying around,” I said. “But what we’re working on could squash that.”

  “You aren’t going to know that until we follow the bread crumb trail to the end. Maybe we find something, maybe we don’t.”

  “I know there’s something at the end,” I said. “My brother didn’t die for nothing. Somebody had him killed.

  And I know whoever had him killed knows what 718 Enterprises is.”

  “You told me your brother was a courier,” Jack said.

  “Right?”

  “I think so. He was somewhere on the drug ladder, and not at the bottom.”

  “You think it’s a coincidence your brother gets killed- you claim by someone higher up on the food chain than he was-and then such a short time later this story breaks?”

  “I don’t know,” I said.

  “I think you have a feeling, the same one I do. You talked to Butch Willingham, you know my reporting on the Fury.”

  “I know you didn’t have enough to go on to report more than you did,” I said. “And that wasn’t much. If the

  Fury even exists.”

  Jack stared me down, backed me down, knowing what we both full well believed.

  “Twenty years ago,” Jack said, “I thought I was certain that there was some sort of kingpin, some sort of Wizard of Oz named the Fury. And for whatever reason, that person was eliminating midlevel drug dealers.”