"Only kind I wear," Theo said. "Red is too loud. Says you're trying too hard. Lighter colors--yellow, green-- those are pansy-a.s.s colors. Black, white, h.e.l.l, 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 f.u.c.king 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.

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 198.

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.

"n.o.body 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. "n.o.body here knows a d.a.m.n thing about Paulina Cole's article. n.o.body knows who gave her those quotes, n.o.body knows where she got her information, and if it makes you feel any better n.o.body 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 bombsh.e.l.l 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 p.i.s.sed 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.

200.

"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 c.r.a.p, and even the ones who log it in to evidence. None of them, let me repeat, none of them, have any idea what the h.e.l.l she's talking about or where she got the info from."

"Either she pulled enough information from her a.s.s 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."

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 b.u.t.ton 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 ba.s.s?"

"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.

202.

"I don't get it. Curt knows this stuff, and he said n.o.body 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 a.s.sume 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 b.i.t.c.h and moan for a day or two, until we break something big and Ted Allen at the Dispatch Dispatch has has to eat a nice big t.u.r.d 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 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 att.i.tude, 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..."

"You'd be a pretty widow," I said. Jack ignored me.

"If I was a grieving widow, I'd sure as h.e.l.l want to find the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds who killed my husband."

"Isn't that the job of the NYPD?"

"Yeah. And they did a real bang-up job investigating your brother's death. Since Stephen Gaines is connected to 718--per your estimation--I have a funny feeling the NYPD might be taking this whole thing a little lightly."

"Why would they do that?" I said.