Narc - Debt Collector 7 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  “Come on, Jack. One hit won’t do you any harm.”

  “I don’t do it.”

  Jamal leaned forward in his seat, his two goons were also paying attention.

  “I say you do,” Jamal had a straight face. He was holding a revolver in his hand and motioning to the needle. Now under any other conditions Jack would have pulled his weapon and taken them out but whatever Jimmie’s plans were, they were relying on him being committed and right now he was showing anything but that.

  Jack bit the bullet and slumped down in a chair, he pulled off his jacket and rolled up his sleeve. Jamal took the spoon and dropped the small white rock into it and then started heating it from below with a lighter. He watched it turn into a liquid while he tied off his arm and brought up a fat vein. The liquid was pulled up into the needle and handed off to him. Jack met Jamal’s gaze as he waited to see what he would do. He swallowed hard and for a second he thought about Isabel, then he jabbed it in his arm.

  Almost immediately he felt nauseous, that was then replaced by the hit. The warm rush of it shot through his system and then, everything he had done up until that moment just vanished. His eyes rolled back and he melted into his chair. The sound of laughter grew faint. Voices mocking him. And yet he didn’t care. In that moment all pain was gone. Every bad memory of the past. All the faces of those he’d murdered were gone. It was like he was sitting beside a cozy fireplace in a state of complete euphoria.

  He leaned back in the soft leather and it felt like he was sinking into oblivion.

  It was the sound of gunfire erupting that made him blink hard. As much as he wanted to know what was going on, his body felt like it was floating away.

  The chaos around him came at him in snapshots as his eyelids opened and closed. One second Jamal was sitting across from him. The next, he was laying face down on the table. He turned his head to see Jimmie standing. Another shot. Damn, this guy fired slow, or maybe he was seeing it in slow motion. He felt so unattached to the world. Hot. Almost on fire. When the gunfire ceased, he felt Jimmie tugging at his arm.

  “Jack, Jack. Time to get out of here.”

  Was he dreaming? How much time had elapsed? He looked around at the dead bodies but had nothing to say. Words didn’t seem to convey what he was feeling. Jimmie hurried around the room gathering up items in some bag while Jack was still in a daze.

  He remembered being guided back to the truck and then he must have passed out as the next memory he had was of waking up as the truck came to a halt. Only an hour had elapsed, more than enough time to come down off the high but he wasn’t feeling like himself.

  “You okay, Jack? It’ll soon wear off, I couldn’t believe you actually did it. I was going to stop you but well…”

  “Where the hell are we?”

  “Back on the island, I brought you back to my place so you can freshen up and whatnot. I don’t think your old lady will take too kindly to you showing up looking the way you do. Come on, I’ll get you some coffee.”

  He pushed out of the truck. It was dark and the headlights were facing his mobile home. They dimmed and he made his way over. His body felt heavy and dizzy.

  “Don’t worry, it doesn’t last beyond four or five hours. Actually most people come down off the high within twenty minutes but you must be super sensitive to that stuff.”

  “You didn’t take it?” Jack asked as they entered his place.

  “Oh god no, that shit will fuck you up. Good money in it but I have a rule, I never indulge in anything but a snort of cocaine from time to time. It’s too easy to get hooked, but don’t worry,” he said closing the door behind them. “A week from now the withdrawal symptoms will subside, you’ll probably be feeling like crap for a few days, but as long as you don’t touch it you should be as right as rain.”

  Jimmie turned the lights on. “You want a beer?” He pulled out two Budweisers and handed him one.

  “Did you kill them?”

  He chuckled. “Had to. Loose ends. You can’t have loose ends, Jack.”

  “But the deal?”

  “Oh the deal is still on, just Jamal won’t be around to get his money, but I’ll look after it,” he said before laughing and slumping down in a La-Z-Boy chair and putting the TV on.

  Jack perched on the edge of his sofa holding the beer in his hand and trying to come to grips with what he’d just done. He knew he was going to fuck him over but he didn’t imagine he’d kill him.

  “All of them?”

  “Of course. Man, you must have been really out of it. Look, everything is set up now. We have the contact for tomorrow. They’ll make the call. Ray will check them out and make sure all is good and you’ll go with Karla and take the delivery in the morning. A few trips back and forth to Miami and then the final drop in a couple of days in Naples.” He chugged on his beer and put his feet up. “You can sleep on the couch if you want, or give your old lady a call and let her know you’re over here.”

  He nodded. It was as if someone had turned his world upside down. Prior to taking that injection he’d never really relied upon medication to get him through the day. Of course he suffered with bouts of depression and hit the bottle a few nights a week but he’d made a point to stay clear of drugs. Though he sneered at addicts as being crazy for needing to get high, after what he’d just experienced, he now understood. It was like being lifted out of the world for a brief while. There was no pain. No suffering. Just bliss. Mindless bliss.

  He shook his head. No, he needed to stay on point. One time, that was it. Jimmie was right, most people didn’t become addicted after their first time but it had the potential to lead him into a compulsive cycle.

  Instinctively he reached around for his weapon but it was gone.

  “Oh it’s in the truck. I collected it before we left. Don’t worry, there is nothing there that can pin this on us. I made sure of that.”

  “You got a phone?”

  “Yeah, over there.”

  Jack got up and went over and placed a call to Isabel. When she answered, she sounded nervous.

  “Jack? Where did you go? I saw you didn’t take the truck and I couldn’t find you down by the water.”

  “I’m over at Jimmie’s. You want to swing by and get me?”

  “Jimmie’s? Right, I’ll be there in a short while.”

  He hung up and wandered into the kitchen to splash some water on his face. Curious, he rolled up his shirt to look at the needle mark. Would it go away? He rubbed at it but that only made it bleed.

  “Oh you might want to get yourself some bottled water for seven days, ginger ale is good and some anti-nausea medication like Imodium and some Dramamine caplets. Actually I have a list around here somewhere. I’ve helped the girls a few times.”

  Just one week. Cold turkey. He could do this. How hard could it be? He just needed to hide the fact that he’d used from Isabel.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Two days to rest, that’s all he got. He didn’t expect to get withdrawal within one day of usage but he had. Whether it was mental, or a real urge to use again, who knew, but what he was sure of was that it felt like some critter was clawing under his skin making him feel uncomfortable. His nerves ached, he had crazy dreams and experienced clammy night sweats. Fortunately, Isabel was none the wiser, at least that’s what he hoped. He told her he must be coming down with a cold and kept his arm covered up.

  The day after, he spent most of the day walking around in a daze. He visited a local pharmacy and picked up the list of items Jimmie had given him. That evening they were supposed to be dining with Ray Edmonds. It would be the first time he’d meet him and he was keen to see what kind of man was behind this operation.

  “So you’ll be there for seven?”

  “Yeah,” Jack said making his way back to his truck with a bag full of anti-nausea tablets, vitamin water, crackers and bunch of other crap.

  “By the way, you do know this afternoon I’m going to need you for that first run?’

  “To
day?”

  “Look, I know you’re feeling like shit but you won’t be driving. I’ve taken care of that. You’ll just go and meet with the contact, point out the vehicle and they’ll take care of it from there.”

  He exhaled hard.

  Ray had put in for a large shipment from Colombia to arrive in the early hours of the morning. The Mitchell brothers collected it and it was dispersed among the stash houses. Jack never got to see where it was kept. A portion of it would go to the new client in Miami, the rest to his regulars.

  But first Jimmie wanted him to do the first of two dead drops.

  After Jack got off the phone, Isabel wanted to get into a debate about it all.

  “We’re both meant to be working on this.”

  “And we are,” Jack replied before grabbing up the keys to the truck.

  “In what way? Cause from where I’m sitting you’re spending every waking moment with the Mitchell brothers.”

  “Thorpe wants evidence. Concrete evidence. Not just a few baggies here or there. I’m taking care of that.”

  “Really, Jack? Is that why you have a needle mark on your arm?”

  His eyes met hers.

  “You might want to cover up better when you get out of the shower.”

  He dropped his head.

  “And don’t even think about trying to bullshit me as I’ve seen enough people using to know that you weren’t just drunk last night. What happened?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  He went to leave and she slammed her hand against the door.

  “You know, Thorpe might not give a shit about us but that doesn’t mean we don’t have to.”

  “You’re being over dramatic again, Isabel.”

  “Dramatic?” She stormed across the room and grabbed up the bag he’d brought from the pharmacy and dumped it out on the table. Inside was the list that Jimmie had given him. “Let’s see, what do we have here? Imodium, Nyquil, valerian root extract, Tagamet, vitamin water, Gatorade, bread and peanut butter, crackers and Phenibut because you are going to need that for the stress and anxiety. Which reminds me. How are you feeling, Jack?”

  “It’s just a cold.”

  She tossed the bag at him. “I might not have been brought up on the streets like you but I know someone who has hit heroin for the first time. Now do you want to stop bullshitting me and fill me in on what’s going on? We’re a team, remember? Or do I need to call Thorpe?”

  Jack exhaled. “It’s better you don’t know.”

  With that he opened the door and left before she could blow up again. He hadn’t seen this side to her. He knew she was under a lot of stress. This wasn’t her typical day on the job. Thorpe had twisted the knife in on her as much as he had on Jack but he understood the way these kind of men worked. If Jack had his way, he would have had Thorpe take her off this case. The more she knew, the more others could use it against her. The deeper they went, the greater the chance of them wanting to harm her, and he couldn’t have that happen. He cared too damn much about her. Jack could already hear Eddie Carmine’s words in his head.

  It’s not an easy path to take. You can’t surround yourself with those who might get harmed. I think you already know that.

  He did know that. Isabel hadn’t asked him what was the hardest part about agreeing to Thorpe’s arrangement. That was it. Knowing that he was going to have to work alongside Isabel and potentially see her harmed. At least when he was hired by the general public, he could choose to work alone. Now he was at the mercy of whatever Thorpe wanted. The money was good. Hell, the FBI was willing to pay him to kill if need be but at what cost? What was the cost of working for Thorpe? He wasn’t Gafino, but he certainly worked within an organization that operated under their own rules and laws. They had one face they showed the public and media, and another for those who dared cross them.

  No, at least this way he could keep her at a distance. Thorpe wanted her there with him but he didn’t stipulate how they would work together. Jack hopped into the truck and started backing out. He glanced back to see Isabel peering out of the window. She was pissed and rightfully so, he hadn’t been honest with her and with drugs involved she must have been thinking all manner of shit.

  He had just reversed it and was about to head out when Moore and Carson stood in front of the truck. Oh for fuck sake, not now, he thought. These two had about as much tact as a bull in a china shop. He brought his window down and Carson flipped up his sunglasses.

  “Jack. Where you heading?”

  “Why? You need directions or can you keep up?”

  “Look, we have a job to do here just as much as you. You think I like being down here babysitting you two?”

  Jack made a face. “I dunno, you seem to be enjoying yourself.” He gazed over at the two foldable chairs they had outside the RV that was surrounded by beer cans.

  “Look, throw us a bone here.”

  “Speak to Isabel, I filled her in on all the details.”

  He made a clicking sound with his lip and jabbed his finger at Jack. “Good man.”

  “Don’t say I didn’t give you anything.”

  He brought up the window and drove off chuckling to himself. He just wished he could have been there to see the look on their faces when Isabel told them that she knew absolutely squat.

  He saw Noah first when he arrived at the south side of the island. Jack parked close to the trailer where Chris had inflicted his own form of punishment on that young girl. He wondered if she was still around and if that asshole was still up to his old tricks. He had a good mind to teach him a thing or two about manners. Noah guided him into a carport where there were three vehicles and then covered the end so that no prying eyes could see what was about to take place.

  Inside was a beat-up Chevy, it looked as if it had been left in the rain and soaked in salt for the better part of a century. There was a rusted-out hole above the wheel well.

  “Tell me we are not taking that?”

  “Oh hell no, the cops will pull you over immediately for that. You are going to be running in this beauty.” He pointed to a brand-new, blue BMW SUV. There wasn’t a scratch on it. It had been spit polished to look almost like glass. Jack could hear Jimmie talking to his brother Willie inside the mobile home. Chris came out looking his usual scruffy self. He ran a hand across his hairy chest and yanked at his crotch before sucking back on a beer and walking over to join them.

  “So how you feeling?” He gave Jack a dig in the stomach to establish dominance. Jack wanted badly to smash his face into the SUV, rip off the radio antenna and shove it up his ass. Everything about the guy riled him up. His swagger, body odor and attitude reeked to high heaven.

  “It’s okay to have a few nerves. I remember back when we were doing deliveries. You remember that, Noah?”

  Noah gave a nod and circled around the SUV staring at it from multiple angles. He was looking to see if the adjustments they had made stood out. It was a common tactic of drug smugglers to create small compartments inside the vehicle. Some even made an entire living out of it. Usually it was a one-man operation that ran out of a home or local garage — or any place that wouldn’t raise eyebrows. Mexicans would smuggle quantities of airtight packaged drugs inside the fuel tank, but the real artisans would rig up vehicles with compartments that were located behind backseats and worked using hydraulic cylinders that functioned off the main electrical system. The only person that would be able to operate it was the mule and it would require a secret combination of holding down switches simultaneously.

  The irony of it all was there wasn’t any law preventing vehicle owners from modifying their automobiles and creating these secret compartments. Some did it just to store valuable jewelry, handguns or personal possessions.

  But the DEA and border patrol had been on to it for a long time.

  Though the best could make the hiding spots not only invisible to the eye but also undetectable to sniffer dogs. That was what usually caught the idiots coming over the bo
rder. Of course they would try to mask the smell by covering packages in grease but it didn’t work.

  “So what have you come up with this time, Q?” Chris asked Noah.

  “Stop calling me that,” he muttered while getting down on his stomach and pulling at the underside of the vehicle.

  Chris leaned against Jack and chuckled. “This guy knows how to do all manner of shit. Trust me. If a cop pulls you over, he don’t stand a chance of finding the dope. So whatever you do, don’t admit to anything. Deny. Deny. Deny. Because the only way they are going to find out if you are hauling shit is if you open that pie hole of yours.”

  Again Jack clenched his fist.

  “Hey, hey! Jack, my good man,” Jimmie stepped into the carport from the home. Willie looked at Jack through skeptical eyes. Ever since meeting him, he got a sense that he didn’t trust Jack. Jimmie might have but not his brother, and as for the other two; well they didn’t seem to be paying attention to anything but themselves.

  “How you feeling now? Did the missus give you heck?” He laughed and patted him on the back while turning to Noah. “Noah, are we good?”

  “Nearly.”

  “Dear god, man, I think you have done enough twiddling with your dick. Jack has to roll. Now get up and show him how to use this shit.”

  Noah hopped back up and brushed himself down.

  He opened the passenger side and told him that the coke and heroin were stashed behind the dashboard.

  “Okay now to get this out, it relies on a number of things. First, make sure one of you is sitting in the driver’s seat, as there is a pressure sensor underneath it. Next, make sure all the doors are closed, it won’t open if one of them is ajar which works in your favor if you get pulled over by cops and they want to go rooting around. Usually they have the doors open, right?”

  Jack nodded, and Noah continued.

  “Now make sure you turn on the rear defroster while at the same time pushing down on these two switches on the driver’s side door.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Oh no, we are not done yet.” He pulled out of his back pocket a card. “This is magnetic. Think of it like a hotel key card. Swipe in front of this vent in the middle and that will complete the unlocking sequence. A pair of hydraulic cylinders will kick in and pop up the hatch to the secret compartment. Basically there is no airbag on the passenger side so don’t go crashing this.”