about asking Dante for an espresso or energy drink or maybe a couple grams of coke if there is any lying around, but I don’t want to stay in the Emerald City for another goddamn minute.
‘Wouldn’t you like the vaccine beforeyou go?’ Dante asks.
I turn back. ‘Yes, of course.’
Dante tosses me a medi-pack with an ampoule of the HIV vaccine and a disposable syringe. I go to put it in my pocket, but he shakes his head with a sly smile.
‘You know better than that, Mr Rhodes. Do it now.’
I do know better than to try and leave with the vaccine in my possession, a cure that doesn’t officially exist for the general public.I fumble with the packet as I try to open it, fatigue making everything more difficult than it has to be.Dante steps closer and gently takes it from me, prepping the dose with steady fingers.
‘I’ve called you a limo,’ he says as he finds a vein in my forearm and injects me. ‘Anything you want, within reason, is available. Just ask the driver.’
‘I want sleep,’ I grumble.
‘Sleep when you’redead,’ he says, and then looks back to the study Navarette haunts. ‘Or maybe not.’
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another clear packet with a half-dozen red and white pills inside. I already know it’s the detox medication for the drug abuse Navarette indulges in. These meds have been given to me before, though I can’t remember which withdrawal symptoms they combat. I slip them intomy pocket.
‘One pill every four hours until they’re finished,’ Dante says. ‘You can see yourself out?’
‘Not a problem.’
Dante gives a terse nod and walks back to the study, leaving me in the living room. He doesn’t look back before entering, doesn’t even shut the door. Through the doorway I see him sit before the flat-screen where Navarette appeared. The framed oval remains dark. I see Dante’shead hang forward, his face in his hands. Soon I hear the sounds of him sobbing.
Swallowing one of the pills, I exit by the front door of the condo. In the hallway outside the security guard with the Vector is waiting, gun in hand. I can’t help but notice the safety is off. It makes me nervous. That particular gun can fill me with an entire magazine of .45 rounds in a matter of seconds. The EmeraldCity is wary ofoutsiders, maybe a little too much, but enough of the rich have been murdered by the great unwashed in recent years to warrant concern. On the elevator ride down I lean against the doors for support, my sore head pressed to the cool metal. The guard looks like he wants to say something, but keeps silent. He walks me out of the Emerald City to the limo idling at the kerb.
‘Youtake care of yourself now,’ he says as the driver opens the door.
‘Thanks, I will.’
The guard shakes his head and frowns. ‘It didn’t look like you were doing a very good job the other night, pal.’
I want to ask him what he’s talking about, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I half step, half stumble into the air-conditioned limo and slump down onto the cool leather. The driver shuts the dooras I help myself to a rare single malt Scotch from the minibar. The pour is generous. I raise the glass to the guard standing on the sidewalk, even though I know he can’t see much of me through the tinted windows. As the limo pulls away the guard looks on, unimpressed.
‘To the airport, sir?’ the driver asks through the intercom.
‘Yeah,’ I say, and throw back the contents of my tumbler. ‘Butfor the love of God take the long way round.’
Less than a minute later I’m fast asleep.
4
The whole flight back to NYC I’m wide awake, much to my annoyance. Maybe I’m overtired, or maybe it’s an effect of the detox medication. My body is out of whack, doesn’t know if it’s coming or going. Every time I start to fall asleep, my Ouija makes thatodd click and some awful thought occurs, jarring me awake. What I see in my head is appalling, but seconds later I can’t remember what it
‘Wouldn’t you like the vaccine beforeyou go?’ Dante asks.
I turn back. ‘Yes, of course.’
Dante tosses me a medi-pack with an ampoule of the HIV vaccine and a disposable syringe. I go to put it in my pocket, but he shakes his head with a sly smile.
‘You know better than that, Mr Rhodes. Do it now.’
I do know better than to try and leave with the vaccine in my possession, a cure that doesn’t officially exist for the general public.I fumble with the packet as I try to open it, fatigue making everything more difficult than it has to be.Dante steps closer and gently takes it from me, prepping the dose with steady fingers.
‘I’ve called you a limo,’ he says as he finds a vein in my forearm and injects me. ‘Anything you want, within reason, is available. Just ask the driver.’
‘I want sleep,’ I grumble.
‘Sleep when you’redead,’ he says, and then looks back to the study Navarette haunts. ‘Or maybe not.’
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another clear packet with a half-dozen red and white pills inside. I already know it’s the detox medication for the drug abuse Navarette indulges in. These meds have been given to me before, though I can’t remember which withdrawal symptoms they combat. I slip them intomy pocket.
‘One pill every four hours until they’re finished,’ Dante says. ‘You can see yourself out?’
‘Not a problem.’
Dante gives a terse nod and walks back to the study, leaving me in the living room. He doesn’t look back before entering, doesn’t even shut the door. Through the doorway I see him sit before the flat-screen where Navarette appeared. The framed oval remains dark. I see Dante’shead hang forward, his face in his hands. Soon I hear the sounds of him sobbing.
Swallowing one of the pills, I exit by the front door of the condo. In the hallway outside the security guard with the Vector is waiting, gun in hand. I can’t help but notice the safety is off. It makes me nervous. That particular gun can fill me with an entire magazine of .45 rounds in a matter of seconds. The EmeraldCity is wary ofoutsiders, maybe a little too much, but enough of the rich have been murdered by the great unwashed in recent years to warrant concern. On the elevator ride down I lean against the doors for support, my sore head pressed to the cool metal. The guard looks like he wants to say something, but keeps silent. He walks me out of the Emerald City to the limo idling at the kerb.
‘Youtake care of yourself now,’ he says as the driver opens the door.
‘Thanks, I will.’
The guard shakes his head and frowns. ‘It didn’t look like you were doing a very good job the other night, pal.’
I want to ask him what he’s talking about, but I can barely keep my eyes open. I half step, half stumble into the air-conditioned limo and slump down onto the cool leather. The driver shuts the dooras I help myself to a rare single malt Scotch from the minibar. The pour is generous. I raise the glass to the guard standing on the sidewalk, even though I know he can’t see much of me through the tinted windows. As the limo pulls away the guard looks on, unimpressed.
‘To the airport, sir?’ the driver asks through the intercom.
‘Yeah,’ I say, and throw back the contents of my tumbler. ‘Butfor the love of God take the long way round.’
Less than a minute later I’m fast asleep.
4
The whole flight back to NYC I’m wide awake, much to my annoyance. Maybe I’m overtired, or maybe it’s an effect of the detox medication. My body is out of whack, doesn’t know if it’s coming or going. Every time I start to fall asleep, my Ouija makes thatodd click and some awful thought occurs, jarring me awake. What I see in my head is appalling, but seconds later I can’t remember what it
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