The Darkness - Jason Pinter [113]
it off, put it in his pocket and headed east. The subway
was in that direction.
When Vinnie rounded the corner, I saw Curt Sheffield
trailing him, walking briskly but with enough distance
that hopefully our mark wouldn't notice. I silently wished
Curt luck again.
"That wasn't so bad," I said to Amanda. She'd put
down the magazine and wine. Standing up, she went over
to the table and picked up the baggie with three rocks of
the Darkness.
"Amanda, you're not going to..."
Before I could say another word, she walked over to the
bathroom, opened the bag and dumped the rocks into the
toilet. Then she flushed it. Once she was sure the rocks were
on their way to some sewage treatment plant, Amanda
came over to me and planted a massive kiss right on my lips.
"That's the closest I ever want that stuff to us," she
said, her arms warm around my neck.
"Same here. You know the reason I'm doing this is to
stop whatever this stuff is from getting out there more
than it already is."
"I know that. And I hope you do. But given a choice
between that and you staying safe... Just come home to
me, Henry. That's all I want."
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"I will," I said. "And hopefully I won't have to say this
too many times, but don't wait up for me."
She sighed. "I won't wait up for you, but that doesn't
mean I won't be thinking about you."
"I'd never tell you to stop doing that," I said.
She kissed me again and said, "Now go help Curt."
I nodded, grabbed my coat from the closet, gave her
one last look and headed outside.
45
Curt drove a Ford Fusion. The key was in the tire well
just like he said. As I climbed into the car and adjusted
the seat, I couldn't help but think Curt was a pretty conscientious guy to own a hybrid. I started the car and put
my cell phone in the cup holder by the armrest, just to be
sure I wouldn't miss it if he called.
For the next few hours, most likely, Curt would be on
his own. He wasn't supposed to call me unless there
was an emergency, as anything that could lead the dealer
to know he was being followed was curtailed until we
met up later.
So all I had to do now was wait.
I picked through the CDs. Some good stuff. Jay-Z, Lil
Wayne, T-Pain. Then, underneath all of them, I found a
Barry Manilow CD and I cracked up. When this was over,
Curt would surely have to explain himself on that one.
An hour in, I ran to the corner deli and got a big,
steaming cup of coffee and a muffin. So far this was the
lamest stakeout ever. I wasn't even staking anything out,
I was just sitting in a car on the side of the street, waiting
for a call so I could then follow someone. I couldn't
complain, though. It wasn't too long ago I did just what
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Curt was doing, following one of these dealers, trying to
find out just where their stash was hidden.
And then I found it, but when we went back it was
gone. They obviously hadn't given up, but had simply
moved to a new location.
Tonight we were going to find out where 718 Enterprises was hoarding their stash. Then Curt would take it
down with his fellow boys in blue, Jack and I would get
the exclusive, eyewitness story, and everyone would go
home happy.
At least that's how it all played out in my mind. What
happened next was something, far, far different.
Two hours into my stakeout of, well, nothing, my cell
phone rang. It was Curt.
I picked up it, said, "Hey. Where are you?"
"One-hundred-twelfth and Amsterdam," Curt said. "I'm
pretty sure our boy is going home for the night. He just took
off his tie, and he's swinging that briefcase like it's full of
air, not powdered substances. Start making your way over
here. I'll call you when I get a more precise location."
"On my way," I said.
"See you soon, Dick Tracy."
Starting the car, I pulled onto the street, turned my
beams on and began the drive over to 112th and Amsterdam, just on the western edge of Morningside Heights.
It was a foggy night, a fine mist surrounding the yellow
streetlamps, casting an eerie glow over New York. Most