Parker 05 - The Darkness (24 page)

that the door wasn't guarded by some super electromagnet or something else similarly complicated.

As he approached the door, another young man

stepped out. Morgan recognized him from the conference room. He was black, about five foot ten. Stocky but

not fat, with a neatly shaved head. He wore a creamcolored suit and a blue tie, a pocket square neatly tucked

into his jacket.

"Theodore W. Goggins," Leonard said. "This is Morgan

Isaacs."

Morgan extended his hand. Theodore shook it. His

grip was tight.

"Call me Theo."

"Call me Morgan," he replied. "So 'W' huh? Like

George W. Bush?"

"Do I look like I was born in Texas?" Theo said. "The

'W' is for Willingham, my uncle's last name."

"Keeping it all in the family," Morgan said. "Nice."

Theo laughed. "You keep up, brother, you and me are

gonna get along just fine."

"Get along?" Morgan said.

"You two are partners, for the time being," Leonard

said. "You ever use the buddy system on school trips?"

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Neither of the young men answered, but they both

knew what he was talking about.

"Same principle. Theo, you're responsible for Morgan.

Morgan, you're responsible for Theo. Either of you get

into any trouble, it's up to the other one to help out."

"No problem," Morgan said. "That's a pretty sweet

tie," he noted, admiring the silk.

"Only kind I wear," Theo said. "Red is too loud. Says

you're trying too hard. Lighter colors--yellow, green--

those are pansy-ass colors. Black, white, hell, you're not

even trying. Blue is the perfect in between. It's bold, but

it doesn't say that. It's like a backrub. Sounds pretty

innocent, but it's going to get your panties off before the

night is over."

"I'm not wearing any panties. So I guess you already

won."

"Enough, girls," Leonard said. His voice grew stern,

and he moved forward until his face was just inches from

Morgan's. "Theo is also your insurance policy, Isaacs,

and Isaacs is yours, Goggins. If you ever try anything

funny, ever do anything to place yourself or your partner

in danger...well, there's a quarter-million-dollar bonus in

it for your partner if he turns you in."

"Wait, what?" Morgan said. "He gets two hundred

and fifty grand for ratting on me?"

"Yes and no," Leonard continued. "I already explained this to Theo, but you need to know it as well. If

your partner does anything--talks to the cops, tells his

friends, tells his family, tells his fucking shih tzu--if you

inform us you get quarter-million-dollar bonus. Tax

free."

Morgan could tell Theo was eyeballing him. He

didn't like it.

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197

"But," Leonard said, "if one of you lies just to get

the money, you won't need money where you're going.

So before you decide to play games, ask yourself if the

risk is really worth the reward. You can either continue

to make money--good money--working for us. Or

you can get cute, try to get rich quick, and end up like

Ken Tsang."

Morgan's stomach felt like someone had just poured

acid inside of it.

Leonard and his people couldn't have been responsible

for Ken's death--could they?

"Hopefully you'll never need to know what it feels like

to be able to touch your knee to the small of your back,"

Leonard said. "Or for your arms to suddenly grow another

joint. Because Ken sure did."

Theo didn't move. Did not react. Morgan stared at

Leonard. He was scared, and Leonard seemed to recognize this.

"Now, don't get ahead of yourself thinking all doom

and gloom. Ken was stupid," Leonard said. "I'm hoping

you're smart. Because if you are, it's nothing but gravy

for all of us. Theo here is your guardian angel, and the

bomb collar strapped to your neck. He will protect you

at all costs, but if you try and remove him in any way

whatsoever--he'll still be around long after the bomb

goes off. Do you get this? Both of you?"

Theo nodded. He didn't seem to care, didn't seem

affected in the least. It was as though he knew he would

never turn. Never lie to these people. He was there for the

money. And as long as he did what he was told, that green

would pour in.

"I get it," Morgan finally said. The acid had gone. The

look on Theo's face had made it dry up. This was Morgan's

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chance to get his life back. He would never do what Ken

did. And he knew Theo would never turn on him.

They both had too much to lose.

"Great. Now that we're clear on the rules, let's go

over everything. But first, let's give you a look at your

merchandise."

Leonard opened the door up wider. Theo went back

inside, and Morgan followed. And when he saw what

was inside, it was all he could do not to gasp.

"How much..." he said.

"Doesn't matter," Leonard said.

Morgan looked around. In a dozen neat piles, each

about twenty feet wide and five feet tall, were small, individual bags. Each of these bags contained what looked

like a different kind of narcotic.

Cocaine. Ecstasy. Weed. Pills. Things Morgan didn't

recognize in the slightest.

And then, in the back corner, he saw something that

piqued his curiosity.

Bags filled with what looked like small pieces of black

gravel. Rocks so small and so insignificant that they

looked like they could have been taken from his grandmother's driveway.

"What's that?" Morgan said.

"That," replied Leonard, "is going to revolutionize

our business."

Morgan stared at it. Theo's eyes were wide open.

"We call it 'the Darkness.' And in one week's time,"

Leonard said, "you'll be so busy selling those bags you

won't have time to spend all the money you make." Then

Leonard smiled. "But I imagine you'll find the time."

27

"Nobody knows anything."

Even though I was holding a telephone to my ear, I

wanted to wrap my hands around the piece of plastic and

choke the life out of it.

"You can't be serious," I said.

"I'm telling you, Henry," Curt said. "Nobody here

knows a damn thing about Paulina Cole's article. Nobody

knows who gave her those quotes, nobody knows where

she got her information, and if it makes you feel any

better nobody here has even heard of this so-called magic

drug, Darkness or whatever. It's like she pulled the whole

thing out of thin air."

My head hurt. Both from the chewing out by Wallace,

the frustration in having been scooped by Paulina Cole,

and the feeling that Curt was telling the truth. Curt had

his finger pretty well placed on the pulse of the NYPD,

and whenever a bombshell was about to drop, even if he

didn't clue me in ahead of time he was rarely surprised.

Right now, though, he spoke as if he was as pissed off as

I was. It sounded like Curt felt he'd been scooped by

Paulina as well.

"This whole thing doesn't make any sense," I said.

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"And the details about the rocks inside the balloon--you

didn't mention that."

"I didn't even know about that until I saw the article,"

Curt said, frustration growing in his voice. "Listen,

Henry. I know the rank and file. I know the guys who

work narcotics detail, the guys sweeping the street

corners for dealers, the ones who confiscate this crap, and

even the ones who log it in to evidence. None of them,

let me repeat, none of them, have any idea what the hell

she's talking about or where she got the info from."

"Either she pulled enough information from her ass to

make her walk funny for a month, somebody in your department has loose lips, or something is being kept a

pretty big secret from all of us."

"I don't know about you, but I think her article is

half bull."

"And the other half?"

Curt was silent for a moment. I could feel my heart

pounding in my chest. I knew his answer before he said it.

Bull or not, there was a lining of truth in Paulina's article.

"The other half," he said, "I'm just praying she's

wrong about. I grew up in this city in the eighties,

Henry. I had a cousin who got hooked on junk. He stole

two twenties from some junkie's wallet because he

needed money to cook more of that poison on a spoon.

He ended up taking eight bullets. From a six-shooter.

Which meant the junkie who killed him reloaded and

then shot him two more times. I know what crack did

to this city. I saw it, man. I'm not comparing apples to

oranges, belts to syringes. I'm just saying that if there

is any truth to Cole's story, and this stuff is already in

the marketplace, it's a faucet that's gonna be real tough

to shut off."

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201

"If this thing is as big as Paulina claims it is," I said,

"won't it be easy to track down?"

"You'd think so, but I know a dozen narco officers

who have eyes and ears and informants up the yin yang

with access to all kinds of dope. They know everyone

from the absolute bottom of the totem pole to the people

at the top. And not one of them has heard a single peep

about Darkness."

"I just don't see Paulina making this up. I mean, she

presses every button there is, but she's not an all-out

liar. Even when she torpedoed Jack, everything she

said was true. It was a pretty despicable takedown, but

she wasn't lying."

"Listen, Henry, I hear you, but this isn't my beat. I

can only go by what the guys in Narcotics are telling me.

And if I hear anything I'll let you know. But right now

there's nothing."

"Thanks, Curt. Good luck out there. For your sake, I

hope Paulina had a sudden case of the truthful yips."

"Truthful yips. Sounds like a good name for a band."

"Yeah. I'll let you know when I form it. You can

play bass?"

"Always saw myself as more of a saxophone man. You

know, Charlie Parker. Sure you don't have a black uncle?"

"Hey, man, you know how my father plays hide-andseek with the truth. It wouldn't shock me. But as far as I

know I don't."

"Gotcha. Take it easy, Henry."

"Later, Curt."

I hung up the phone. I noticed Jack had come over, and

was standing next to my desk.

"Was that your buddy Sheffield?"

I nodded, leaned back in my chair and stretched.

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"I don't get it. Curt knows this stuff, and he said

nobody in the department has heard one word about

this new drug."

"Is it possible his ear is just a little too far from the juice?"

"It's possible, but Curt's been pretty reliable when it

comes to big stories."

"Well, until we hear otherwise, we have to assume

that the Wicked Witch of the West Side scooped us fair

and square."

"I don't think that's going to make Wallace like us any

more."

"No. He'll bitch and moan for a day or two, until we

break something big and Ted Allen at the
Dispatch
has

to eat a nice big turd sandwich."

"He has to deal with Paulina every day. That's gotta

be enough punishment for one man."

Jack laughed. It felt strange, though, as though he was

laughing more to gauge my reaction than out of actual

emotion. Then he stayed silent for a minute, just thinking.

"So where are we at?" he said. "It seems like our number

one lead got himself a one-way ticket to the big adios."

"Well, my gut says for certain that Kaiser knew

exactly what I was talking about when I asked him about

718 Enterprises. Of course he was killed before I could

get any deeper."

"So think about this, sport," Jack said. "I'm guessing

Kaiser's demise was not due to a leak in his gas stove.

He was killed. So who benefits from Kaiser being out of

the picture? And why kill him now?"

"It was probably no secret that we were looking at him,

so whoever killed him was worried he would talk."

"Did he seem like a talker to you?"

"Are you kidding? If he'd given me another thirty

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203

seconds he would have told me what his wife was like

in bed."

"So someone ices him before he can talk. Who?"

"I'm pretty sure it's this blond guy the doorman saw

coming at odd hours. He clearly had business with Kaiser

that couldn't take place during the light of day."

"Didn't you say his wife left when he came over?"

"Yeah," I said. "Mrs. Kaiser left and went to a coffee

shop on the corner. She let this guy and Brett do their

thing, then she'd just come back like she'd gone to the

beauty salon. Nothing strange about her attitude, according to the doorman."

"So you know who we have to talk to now?" Jack

said.

"Victoria Kaiser. Wonderful. Nothing I need more than

bothering a grieving widow."

"You're too mushy, Parker. If I was a grieving widow..."