The Darkness

48

“Working for them,” I said. “You mean the city is making money off of you. That’s why I found a money order made out to Morgan Isaacs for fifty grand from

Leonard Reeves. Reeves works for 718. You set your drug cartel up as a legit business, and the government is making millions of dollars in taxes off of dead people and blood money.”

“Millions right now, maybe. Soon it’ll be hundreds of millions,” Ramos said. “And once the Darkness spreads to other metropolitan areas-Los Angeles, Boston, Chicago-it’ll be in the billions.”

“How can they let this happen?” I said. “Don’t they know these drugs are killing people? Don’t they know who you are?”

“Know who I am?” Eve said. “Not only do they know who I am…they’re the reason I’m here.”

“Panama,” I said. “The Hard Chargers-you were one of them?”

“Yes and no. I certainly did my share of hell-raising down there. Nothing helps sell a war like violence against our troops. But those bastards weren’t supposed to kill me. And it’s their fault Chester died.”

“Hollinsworth said you found a way to synthesize

Darkness,” I said. “So why would the government still work with you if you stole this from Noriega?”

“Oh, they didn’t know,” she said. “In fact, they trusted me so much that when the CIA-backed cartels in the eighties got out of hand, guess who they put in charge to oversee things?”

“That’s why you’re the Fury,” I said. “They installed you as a watchdog because their money was at stake. With you there, they could make sure the money was going to fund the Contras.”

“Yeah, but that stopped being fun after a while. Why be a watchdog when you can be the top dog? Those cartels made billions, but the leadership had more balls than they had brains. They were more than happy to let someone take over who could handle distribution on a nationwide basis. Unfortunately word got out and that reporter Webb found out about it. The CIA tried to pull the plug. But when you’re running a covert operation, pulling the plug doesn’t mean ending things so much as pretending they never happened.”

I said, “So they left you in charge of the largest drug cartel in North America.”

“Your tax dollars at work. And Mr. Reeves here was kind enough to set up a deal where not only could we work in peace, but we’d benefit the city of New York as well.

Thousands of federal employees laid off due to a lack of funds, and that’s exactly what we’re giving them back.”

“Makhoulian,” I said. “He was the mole in the NYPD.

He knew everything we were doing.”

“More or less. I am a little surprised by how persistent you are, Henry.”

“So why this?” I said. “Why now?”

“Well, the truth is we weren’t able to perfect the mixture until recently. But if you believe in fate-like I do-then everything came together for a reason. Look at this city, Henry. Its infrastructure is crumbling. It’s billions of dollars in debt. Millions of people have lost everything, and the people who pump the most money into this economy-the rich-are losing their jobs. The pipes have been rotting for years. With the Darkness, I managed to build the greatest cherry bomb the city has ever seen, and dropping it into those pipes now will cause the whole system to come crashing down. Cities burn from the ground up, not the top down.”

“All because you think you were sent to die in Panama.

This isn’t about money. It’s about payback.”

“Call it what you want. Truth is, I’m doing this city a favor. New York will have a chance to bring itself back from the wreckage. Twenty years ago this city teetered on the edge, and it was brought back. When a city comes so close for a second time, it needs a little push. That’s where I come in.”

“No matter how many people die in the process.”

“I read somewhere that over a hundred billion people have died since the earth was created. Am I really supposed to shed a tear for a few more?”

“You’re settling a grudge,” I said. “You feel you were sent to die, so you’re taking revenge.”

“Not to mention a handsome profit,” she said. “If there is a better feeling than seeing the same fat, stupid men who sent you to die line your pockets, I don’t know what it is.”

Reeves came over and placed the pad and pen in front of me. Then he stepped back and folded his arms behind his back. I could tell he wasn’t happy about this, wasn’t

happy I knew the depth of his involvement. But Ramos kept him fed. And that was good enough.

“You write your article, including the facts I’ve told you. Once it is written, Leonard and I will go over it to make sure it doesn’t contain anything that we don’t approve of.

After that we will e-mail it to your boss, Mr. Langston.”

“And then what?”

“And when it runs, we can assure you that Amanda

Davies will live a long, happy life. Well, a long life at least.”

“And me?”

“Having saved a life, you can go to your grave with the nobility many men do not.”

“And you get to promote the Darkness even more.”

“The New York Dispatch is only read by half the city,” she said. “With your paper we’ll get the other half, too.”

I eyed the pen, wondering if there was a way I could use it. Not that I’d been trained in any Bourne-esque dojo where they taught you how to kill two people with a single pen.

“Mr. Reeves here will watch you. I don’t expect your finest work, Henry. Time is of the essence.”

I didn’t know what to do. Amanda’s life versus thousands of people who would read about this drug and be tempted to buy it. I pictured Amanda, sitting at home, while the city burned around her. Then I pictured her grieving at my funeral, not knowing I’d given my life for her.

What the hell could I do?

Before I could do or say anything, there was another knock at the door behind Eve Ramos. It startled her very briefly, and I took a step forward.

She opened it, and standing there was Rex Malloy.

“Eve,” he said. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Sheffield and Parker,” he said. “They didn’t come alone.”

Ramos stood there, unsure what to make of what

Malloy had said. We had come alone. What the hell was

Malloy talking about?

Suddenly I heard a loud noise come from outside the compound. A second explosion, then a third, rattling the floor, reverberating. Somebody was shooting at the warehouse from outside. Eve Ramos’s eyes narrowed as she stared at me. I had no answers.

They didn’t come alone.

Had somebody followed us?

“Get up, Parker,” Ramos said, her voice gone to steel.

She marched over and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me up. I stood, wrenched away.

“Get off of me.”

Then I realized where the gunfire had come from. We weren’t being shot at from outside. Somebody inside the compound was firing at someone outside.

Then it dawned on me.

We had been followed. By Jack O’Donnell.