Bad to the Bone (10 page)

“You go where I motherfuckin’ say, punk.” Wendell gave Abou his hardest cold killer smile. Cold enough to freeze Abou’s black balls. Abou was
permanently
pissed, pissed from the day he was born. Which was cool, as long as he was pointed in the other direction. Wendell Bogard didn’t have no partners. “Anythin’ else you say be dissin’ me. You dis me, I don’t forget.”

Abou read the message and let his eyes drop down. There wasn’t no shame, because Wendell might as well have been speaking Urdu for all the white man, crazy or not, understood.

Marcy Evans led the way, with Wendell following and Davis Craddock bringing up the rear. Abou, left standing among the enemy, looked around the room, then snorted decisively. “White motherfuckers,” he muttered, before going off to the kitchenette in search of a beer.

Davis Craddock locked the door as soon as they were inside. “You want a hit?” He held up a small vial of white powder.

“Sorry, but I don’t use no dope. Man who
sells
death, got no business eatin’ it.”

“I’m disappointed. I was hoping you’d personally try the sample I sent you.”

“Why’s that?”

“I think the reasons are obvious.”

“Shi-i-it. I
do
love a crazy white man. ’Course, that don’t mean I wouldn’t spray the motherfucker who tried to make me look like a chump. Crazy or not.”

Craddock only smiled and spread his hands apologetically. “You’re an amazing man, Wendell. Wonderful, really. But I understand you better than you think I do. You pretend that you don’t care what happens here, but I know you didn’t drag your butt out to Whitestone just to put me down. I think you’re full of shit.”

Wendell looked into Craddock’s eyes. Threw him the baddest badass stare in his arsenal, but there was no fear. The man looked happy. Like he was playing and winning. “Must be the army,” Wendell said, relaxing into acceptance. He’d caught himself a crazy white man with a bottomless bucket of gold.

“Army?”

“The army in the other room. A man with a army don’t have to fear too much. I’m sayin’ this like from one general to another.”

Davis Craddock accepted the compliment, then gestured to a club chair drawn up in front of an easel. “Fair enough,” he said, all business now. “Let’s get down to it.” He uncovered a bright green chart drawn by hand on oak tag paper. “I’m going to make a bunch of assumptions here. Don’t bother confirming. I’m going to assume that you received the product I sent over to you, that you’ve given it a fair trial and that you like the results. I further assume that you see a chance to advance your own economic interests by purchasing this product from me. You’re here tonight to find out exactly what PURE is and what it will cost you to obtain it in large quantities.”

“That sounds good,” Wendell said evenly. “Sounds like you makin’ me a proposition. Only thing about it is I know you already set up somebody else. Nigger called Deeny Washington. If you lookin’ to have a man of my size for a partner, you got no bidness settin’ up a junkie asshole like Deeny Washington.”

Craddock smiled. “Can we get to that later? I promise I’ll make it clear.”

“As long as we get to it.”

Craddock took the pointer and tapped the chart on the easel. “The first thing I did was make the decision to create PURE. The second thing I did was define the drug I wanted before I went into the laboratory. I was determined not to settle for the first compound that made a mouse tipsy. This chart lists the qualities I decided on. First, the consumer should be able to use the drug in a variety of ways: injection; inhalation; smoking; eating. Second, the purity of the compound should be carefully controlled so that accidental poisonings and overdoses are eliminated. Third, the drug should be physiologically addicting. Just as morphine is ten times as addicting as opium and heroin ten times as addicting as morphine, the new compound should be ten times as addicting as heroin. In fact, carefully controlled studies with laboratory animals have shown PURE to be thirty times as addicting as heroin. Fourth, the drug should produce the exhilaration of cocaine, along with the compulsion to repeat the experience as often as possible. Fifth, the duration of the cocaine-like high should be increased to match that of the heroin-like high. Sixth, the compound should be packaged in tamper-proof containers so that the consumer, no matter where he or she purchases the compound, will receive exactly the same product. Seventh, the drug should be marketable at competitive prices. A single dose for a casual abuser should not exceed ten dollars. Eighth, the drug should be as profitable as heroin or cocaine in order to attract retailers.

“The final compound, which has all of the above qualities and which I intend to market under the name PURE, is similar to heroin in that it reduces anxiety and eliminates the sickness associated with heroin withdrawal, but it is
not
heroin or any other known opiate. PURE is also similar to methamphetamine in that it fills the consumer with energy and confidence, but it is
not
methamphetamine. These
nots
are very important in terms of my goals.”

Craddock turned back to the charts. He nodded to Many, who made a little curtsy before removing the top chart to reveal another. “This chart describes the process by which the government could make PURE illegal. I should say the process by which PURE
will
be made illegal. Sooner or later, the cops will call PURE to the attention of the legislature and the legislature will add PURE to its schedule of forbidden drugs. Until that moment comes, no one can be prosecuted for selling or possessing PURE. The one-hundred-million-dollar question, of course, is how long entrepreneurs, like ourselves, can expect this situation to last.”

“That
is
the question,” Wendell interrupted. “If there’s enough time and enough PURE, the dope could be all across the country before the pigs figure it out.”

“My sentiments, exactly. Now here’s how it works. The basic federal narcotic law was written in 1970. It’s called the Federal Comprehensive Drug Abuse Prevention and Control Act. The law has a number of schedules. Drugs are put into one schedule or another according to how dangerous they are. New compounds can only be added to the schedules after a series of steps are taken. First, the Attorney General of the United States must determine that the compound has a high potential for abuse. Second, the Attorney General must go to the Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare, present his evidence and gain approval.”

Craddock nodded to Marcy who removed the chart to reveal still another piece of carefully lettered oak tag. “Assuming agreement between the AG and the Secretary, a committee would be created and asked to make the following determinations.” He banged the pointer against the oak tag, smiling like a stand-up comic anticipating a good punch line. “First, establish the new compound’s actual or relative potential for abuse. Second, collect all scientific data regarding the molecular structure of PURE. If this structure is not known or is still being studied, the proceedings must stop until the psychoactive molecule or compound is identified. Third, determine the history and current pattern of abuse involving the new compound. Fourth, determine the risk to public health, if there is a risk. Fifth, establish the potential for physiological and/or psychological dependence.

“I don’t think they can do this in less than two years. A year to figure it out and a year to do the research. That’s federal. The states are less predictable, because each state has its own laws, but I’d be shocked if the states, with the possible exception of New York and California, move more quickly than the federal government. Most likely, the states will let the feds do the work, then follow behind. The trick is to set up national distribution before introducing PURE to the general public. By the time the legislatures act, PURE will be the hottest drug in the marketplace. Hotter than crack ever was.”

Wendell allowed himself to relax into the chair. Crazy white men. They were the wonder of the world. Stand out there in a suit the color of vanilla ice cream and point at motherfucking
charts
. Like they were two executives in an office. Funny how when white men wanted to do business with a brother, they learned to talk without saying the “n” word. “What’s this shit gonna cost me?” he asked.

“Thirty-five hundred an ounce. It’ll be the cheapest drug ever seen.”

“Shi-i-i-it. That’s more than what coke’s goin’ for right this minute. How you gonna sell it to dudes buyin’ ten keys at a time?”

“PURE is much more powerful than cocaine. I’m talkin’ about twenty-eight hundred doses in an ounce. Twenty-eight thousand dollars on the street. There’s room for two or three mark-ups between my price and retail. And there’s a bonus, too. Once PURE is established as a force in the marketplace, the formula can be sold to the highest bidder. As I see it, Americans are being forced out of the drug business. South Americans and Asians are taking their place, because most drugs, at present, originate in foreign countries. PURE will not have to be smuggled across international borders. It will be a hundred-percent American. Red, white and blue. Tried and fucking true.”

“How’d you get hold of my name?” Wendell abruptly changed the subject.

“I got it from the aforementioned Deeny Washington. Marcy recruited him for our test marketing project. At first, he was afraid. Afraid of
you
. He said you were the big dope man for the Lower East Side.”

“I don’t see why you set up that loser with this good dope. Man don’t know shit about dope.”

“Deeny Washington wasn’t chosen for his knowledge of the drug business. I want to test PURE on the open market before I begin to manufacture in large quantities, but it’s very important that any undue attention generated by this test marketing come to a dead end. And I do mean a
dead
end. Deeny Washington is the ultimate expendable. A terminal junkie with every disease known to man. Once our project is completed, Deeny Washington is gone.”

“And you want me to do it?”

Craddock laughed shortly. “I can see how you’d arrive at that conclusion, but appearances are deceiving. I presume you’d have no trouble dealing with this kind of problem—you
are
a businessman, after all—but I’m looking forward to eliminating Mr. Washington myself. Mr. Washington has become Marcy’s slave. He’ll do whatever she tells him to do. In fact, he’s come to trust her so much, he lets her prepare his injections.”

“I get the picture.” Crazy white motherfuckers. The wonder of the world. The wonder of
his
world. Old Davis wasn’t gonna do it to show Wendell how bad he was. Davis was gonna do it because he liked to do it.

“Then I invite you to watch closely while PURE enters the marketplace. There’s plenty of competition in our test marketing area and PURE is priced competitively. In effect, the heroin and crack addicts are deciding just how desirable our product is. But let’s assume that all goes well. Let’s assume that our consumers love PURE. In that case, I’ll put the manufacturing end into high gear while you set up local, regional and, eventually, national distribution. My goal is to market two hundred pounds of product, then sell the formula and get my white ass out of the business. I intend to accomplish that before PURE becomes illegal. And, of course, I guarantee you exclusive right to market PURE. Assuming you can handle the weight.”

“Man, you must be jokin’. Two hundred pounds? That ain’t more than ninety kilos. Shouldn’t be no problem whatsoever. Long as I get first bid on the formula when we’re done.”

“I believe we understand each other.”

Wendell took out a handkerchief and blew his nose. Crazy was what the man was. Crazy and beautiful. In the meantime, Wendell Bogard’s future was looking like more than a jail cell and a series of high-priced lawyers. Imagine, a get-rich dope and the pigs can’t bust your ass. Goddamn miracle is what it was. “We got to find some way to seal this shit,” he declared.

“A handshake isn’t enough?” Craddock asked.

“African-Americans don’t do no handshakes. We do that slappin’ and bumpin’ shit.”

“Perhaps we could put Marcy into some really humiliating sexual position. She’d love that.”

“No, man, pussy ain’t strong enough for what we gonna do. Y’understand what I’m sayin’? We ain’t got no contract, so we got to find another way of statin’ our intentions.”

“And what would that be?”

“A song, my man. We gonna seal the deal with a song.”

“A song?” Davis Craddock couldn’t repress a wide grin. “What are we gonna sing, Wendell?”

“ ‘Pusher Man.’ It’s the national anthem of dope. ‘Oh, say can you see’ and that shit.”

When Abou heard the words coming from the next room, he damn near shit his pants. The blonde bitch was snapping her fingers and screeching: “Yeah, yeah. Yeah, yeah. Yeah, yeah. Yeah, yeah.” The other one, the maggot, was doing the lyrics in a deep baritone while Wendell stayed a little behind, working the beats. Singin’ about niggers in alleys, about the pusher man being the only daddy and momma a dope addict would ever have. It was a song for the brothers and sisters, not the maggots.

Abou sucked hard on his beer. All kinds of crazy thoughts ran through his head, confusing him until they resolved themselves into a single idea:
what the fuck am I doin’ in a room with thirty armed maggots when all I got is my motherfuckin’ dick to shoot with
?

Because if there was one thing Abou hated more than anything else in the world, it was a crazy white man. Never knew
what
the fucker might do.

from
The Autobiography of Davis Craddock

H
EEEEEERE, POOCHIE, POOCHIE, POOCHIE.
Here, Poochie. Here, Poooooochie. Hop! Skip! Jump! Fly! That’s a good Poochie dog. That’s a good doggie.

Dear Marilyn provided the answer for my Poochie obsession. As she has for so many other obsessions.

I couldn’t get the cult thing out of my head. It seemed such a simple thing. There had to be tens of thousands of poochies out there and I only required a couple of hundred. Unfortunately, poochies are solitary creatures.

Imagine a lake filled with ravenous piranha. A few tiny goldfish cower in holes at the very bottom of the water. You are the fisherman. Your task is to catch the goldfish, but you keep hooking piranha. They swarm over your bait while the goldfish live on whatever crumbs fall to the lake bed.