Pain Management (32 page)

I stepped away from her a little. Obsessives make me nervous. Maybe that’s why I scare people, sometimes. About some things.

“I’m not arguing with you,” I said, gently.

But it was too late to derail her train. “Do you know why dealers started cutting heroin with quinine?” she said, her voice shaking. “The U.S. government taught them. The military used to mix quinine into the morphine styrettes soldiers carried into battle in the Pacific Theater, because of the malaria threat. Nothing too good for our fighting men . . . until they come back home. The government doesn’t care. And neither do the drug companies. The only real R and D going on is for the illegal stuff, anyway. Like Ecstasy. You get a real quick turnaround on the research—instant profits—plus, you don’t have to pay the human guinea pigs; they pay you.”

“I know,” I said. Thinking about the morphine pump they’d hooked me to while I was recovering from the bullets meant to kill me. That magic pump that fired a little bit of painkiller into my veins every time I squeezed it. But I could only squeeze it six times an hour. And every time I did, the hospital’s billing computer went
ka-ching!
That machine hadn’t been developed to kill pain; it had been designed by an accountant.

“But don’t you
get
it, B.B.? The DEA
creates
the market for new ways to get high. The pious, hypocritical—”

“I get it, Ann. But what good is one big score—even a humongous one—against that?”

“We need that shipment,” she said, adamantly. “We need something to sustain the ground effort, while the rest of us pull back and put the pressure elsewhere.”

“I can’t help you.”

“Yes, you can,” she said. “And I’ll show you why.”

I piloted the Corvette to Ann’s instructions. If she was trying to confuse me, she did a great job. I wouldn’t have been more lost if I’d been blindfolded. We pulled up to what looked like the bank of a river, but we were facing the wrong way for it to be the one that runs through Portland.

“Milwaukie,” she said, as if that explained everything.

“What do we do now?” I asked her.

“Wait. It won’t be long. Besides, it’s dark out.”

“So?”

“So haven’t you ever heard it’s much sexier to fuck outdoors?”

“No.”

“No, you haven’t heard it? Or no, you don’t believe it?”

“I’ve heard it. When it comes to sex, there’s people who get turned on by everything from latex to liverwurst. But, me, I’m a big fan of privacy.”

“That’s part of the fun,” she said softly, giving her lips a quick flick with the tip of her tongue. “That someone
might
come along.”

“Save it. When I was a kid, that was the only way it
ever
happened.”

“Outdoors?”

“Standing up in an alley. On a ratty couch in a basement with no door. On a rooftop; in the park when the weather was right . . .”

“Sounds like you had a lot of experience.”

“Experience? With sex, sure. With sex where you felt safe, like someone wasn’t going to run up on you any minute—not until I was much older.”

“I never tried it,” she whispered. “You sure you don’t want to show me?”

“I’m sure.”

“You don’t
feel
sure,” she said, giving me a rough squeeze.

“You didn’t ask me how I felt. You asked me what I wanted. And I told you.”

“You think, if we . . . if it happens again, you’ll be stuck? That you’ll have to go through with it?”

“No. And stop with the word games. There’s nothing for me to ‘go through’
with.
I never made any deals.”

“You implied . . .”

“If you’d turned her up before I could do it on my own, I would have traded, like I said. But you didn’t.”

“Wait and see,” she said, folding her arms under her breasts. Then lifting them a little, just to show me what I had passed up.

“Time to go,” she said, about fifteen minutes later.

“Go where?”

“I’ll show you. We just had to park so . . . some people could be sure we weren’t followed.”

“So we never
were
going to be alone, huh?”

“
You
wouldn’t have known.”

“I get it.”

“No, you don’t. But this isn’t about that now. Just drive.”

The area behind the warehouse looked deserted. Except for the bright-red Dodge Durango.

“Flash your brights a couple of times,” Ann said. “Then pull in right next to him.”

I J-turned so that I could back in. As I was reversing, I saw two figures get out. By the time I was parked, they were sitting on the lowered tailgate of the Dodge.

Clipper and Big A.

“Hey, handsome,” Ann greeted Big A, giving him a kiss on the cheek, half big sister, half “Someday soon.”

“What’s up?” Clipper asked her, as if he was sitting in a coffeeshop and she’d just walked by.

“I don’t know,” Ann told him.

I took a step back, grabbed Clipper’s eyes, and took off my jacket. “All you had to do was ask,” I said to her.

“It was more fun my way,” she mock-giggled.

Big A ducked his head so I wouldn’t see him blush.

“What were you worried about?” I asked Clipper. “A piece, or a wire?”

“Guns scare me,” he said, calmly.

“We’ll be right back,” I told him. Then I reached over and grabbed the back of Ann’s neck. I would have used her hair, but I knew the wig would come off in my hand. “Come on,” I said.

She came along meekly enough until we got to the corner of the building. I had to put on a little pressure to get her to make the turn, out of sight of Clipper and Big A.

“Do it,” I said.

“Do . . . what?”

“Search me. Do a good job. I don’t know what all this is about, but I want you to be able to tell Clipper that I’m not carrying.”

She ran her hands over me. Tentatively, not sure what she was doing, but covering all the ground. It didn’t surprise me that she missed the sleeve knife.

“Can I . . . ?”

“Whatever you want,” I said. “Just get it done.”

She unsnapped my jeans. Pulled the zipper down. She tugged at the waistband just enough to get her hands inside. Spent more time there than she had to.

“All right,” she finally said.

We walked back around to where Clipper and Big A were sitting.

“He’s empty,” Ann said. “Now let me tell you what’s happening. B.B. doesn’t want to help us out with our . . . project anymore.”

If Clipper had a problem with “our,” he kept it off his face.

“And the reason he doesn’t,” she went on, “is because he thinks he’s found what he’s looking for.”

“Is that right?” Clipper asked me.

“Some of it. I never
did
want to ‘help out.’ It was supposed to be a trade. You know what I was looking for. If Ann turned it up, then that would have been different.”

“That ‘it’ you’re talking about is a human being.”

“Hey, that’s a good one.
Very
sensitive. You ever been a guest on
Oprah
?”

Big A started to get up. Clipper put out a hand to restrain him even as Ann started to step between us.

“You think she’s coming back soon?” Clipper asked.

“What I think is that she’s going to meet with me. Coming back, that’s her decision. All I ever wanted was the meet.”

“When do you think it’s going to happen?”

“Any day now.”

“I don’t think so. More than a week. Maybe even two.”

“And you’d know that . . . how?”

“Because she’s with us,” Big A said, pride strong in his voice. “She’s been with us all along.”

“Sure.”

“I kind of thought you might react like that,” Clipper said. “So I did something I hate doing. But I didn’t see any other way.”

“You ever just talk straight out?” I asked him.

“Sometimes,” he said, nodding as if he was agreeing with something.

“Want to take a walk, cutie?” Ann asked Big A.

“I’m staying here with—”

“Go ahead, Big A,” Clipper said to him. “I don’t want Ann to hear what I’ve got to say . . . and I don’t want her wandering around back there alone, okay?”

“Okay,” the kid said, accepting the wisdom.

We watched them walk away. When they were out of sight, Clipper reached in his pocket. “Recognize this?” he asked me. “It’s a micro-cassette recorder. The fidelity’s pretty good. Just touch the button right . . . there.”

I did that, then put the little machine down on the tailgate, so I’d have both hands free.

The voices came out of the tiny speaker thin and metallic, but clear enough so there wasn’t any doubt.

“Jenn, are you
sure
?”

“Yes,” Jennifer said, her voice patient and gentle. “But I wouldn’t want you to trust only that. Daddy talked to him. A lot. And he found out some things about him, too.”

“Like what?”

“Daddy wouldn’t say, Rosa. But Daddy said he’d
never
make you go back if you didn’t want to go.”

“Does he know what I really—?”

“Pretty much. Not
everything,
but almost. Daddy thinks, maybe, he could even help you get . . . the rest of it, too.”

“For real?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, Jenn! That would be so . . . I can’t believe it.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what your—?”

“No! I can’t talk about that.”

“All right,” Jenn soothed her. “That’s all right.” A long pause, then, “I saw Daisy.”

“How is she?”

“A little fireball, like always.”

“She
is.
” Rosebud chuckled. “She’s always been like that.”

“I know.”

“Jenn?”

“What?”

“You’ll never know. You’ll never know what it means to me that you’re so . . . so
loyal.
So loyal and true.”

“You’d do the same for—”

“That’s not the point!” Rosebud said, harshness in her tone. “Plenty of people are good and loyal. But that’s not always a two-way street.”

“Do you want to—?”

“You’re just like your father,” Rosebud laughed. “No, Jenn. I do
not
want to talk about it, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Jenn, you know what?”

“What, Rosa?”

“I’m . . . still not sure. And I don’t want to meet with this . . . man until I am. I need more time.”

“How much more?”

“A week. Maybe a little more. I have to . . . check some things. Then I’ll be ready.”

“Okay. You know where to—”

“Yes. I love you, Jenn.”

Then the sound of a phone being hung up.

“Voice-activated,” Clipper said.

“Uh-huh. This a wiretap?”

“No. On
my
line. In
my
house. Or where I’m staying now, anyway.”

“With Rosebud?”

“That’s right.”

“And what you’re saying is, if I do this . . . project, you’ll bring me to her, even if she decides she doesn’t want to go through with it?”

“Yes.”

“You’d sell her just like that?”

Clipper stood up so suddenly we almost bumped. His voice was low and hard, urgent. “Look, I don’t need lectures on ethics from mercenaries. One, it’s all about the greater good. And, two, she
can’t
stay like she is. I don’t know what’s wrong. Not exactly, anyway. But she can’t keep this up. I was going to call her friend Jenn myself, if Rose didn’t decide to come in on her own. And since you seem to have passed muster with
her
. . .”

“I get it.”

“Yeah? Well, if you
want
it, now you know what you have to do.”

The rich lady’s penthouse looked like it had all been redecorated since the last time we’d been there. Probably one of her hobbies. I walked over to the huge aquarium. About half the fish were missing now. And the little sharks looked bigger.

“Nice joint you’re running here,” I said.

“That’s the way of the world,” she shot back, sounding annoyed. “In microcosm. Don’t you agree?”

“Sure. People with money put things in cages. Then they watch them eat each other up.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. You’re one of the
good
people.”

“B.B.!” Ann hissed at me.

“Hey, fuck the two of you,” I said. “You know why
I’m
doing this, okay? You want a good attitude thrown in, you’re out of luck.”

The rich woman stood up. Walked over close to me. “I like you,” she said, huskily. “What do you think about that?”

“What I think is that I don’t like you.”

“Because of an . . .
aquarium
?”

“That’s right.”

She turned and walked away. “You picked yourself a real beauty,” she said to Ann.

“Were you deliberately
trying
to get her to drop out?” she asked in the elevator on our way down.

“She’d never drop out,” I told her. “It’s like her . . . thing, right?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re purity personified. You and Clipper and everyone helping you. Me, I’m just a hijacker who’s getting hijacked himself.”

“Everyone’s got a handle, B.B. I told you where mine was. Why are you so angry I found yours?”

“I have a lot of data for you,” Gem said that night. “But it’s raw. And it could take you a lot of time to sort it. Can you narrow down the criteria for me, just a little bit?”

“Sure.”

“Burke, what is wrong? You sound so . . . angry.”

“Not at you.”

“At who, then?”

“At me, little girl. Wesley warned me. A long time ago.”

“What did he—?”

“He told me,” I said, cutting her off, “that anyone who knows how I am about . . . some things, it’s like a bull’s-eye painted on my back.”

“You mean . . . children?”

“It’s not about kids. I don’t even like kids. It’s those fucking freaks who feed on them. . . .”

“Burke, stop!”

“What?”

“When you start to talk like that, it frightens me.”

“Why? I haven’t even raised my voice. I’m in control.”

“It is so cold in here now,” Gem said, shuddering. “And you, you are . . . not in control. Not at all.”

“You sure you can do it?” I asked SueEllen. “You’re the key. He doesn’t come along, we can’t—”

“Honey, we got a
lot
of information. Everything you said you wanted. But there’s no way we’re going to know in front if that man likes women. Don’t believe everything you see in beer commercials.”