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The Darkness - Jason Pinter [77]

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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

The Darkness

219

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.

220

Jason Pinter

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.

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