He nodded, I assume flattered.
‘Well, this character gives the hero the drum on the heroin racket.’
Artie’s eyes narrowed in a parody of cunning. ‘We did have a word or two on the subject.’
‘Right. I suppose he told you he was researching for a TV script?’
‘Exactly.’ The scotch was nearly all gone and he started on the beer.
‘But he’s gone and got himself personally involved in the business.’
‘Jesus!’
‘The less you know the better, but what I want you to do is tell me everything you told him-the names, the places, the procedures. Anything that might help me get a line on him. He’s history unless someone pulls him out of it. I don’t have to tell you that.’
‘Sure. I assume someone’s employing you, Cliff?’
‘Yeah, I’m not poking into this for fun, believe me. I assume it’s all going on around Darlo and Bondi and I know there used to be a nice phone hook-up between the customs and a city hotel we won’t mention. But I’m a bit out of touch. Put me in touch, Artie.’
I didn’t recognise the sound at first; it came from deep within his frowsy frame, and he shook like a man hanging onto a pneumatic drill. It ended in a shuddering spasm and a series of coughs that started at his ankles. His face flushed red and his hand shook violently when he picked up his glass. He got a swallow down and resumed normal breathing. It was Artie’s way of laughing; if he did it too often he’d drop dead. ‘That’s rich, Cliff, really rich. Darlo! Phone hookup! You think it’s all kids and hard cases, eh? Out of touch? You don’t even know what the bloody game is.’ His wide grin threatened to split into spasm again. I gripped his upper arm and dug my fingers into the spongy flesh until I felt him tense up in the pain.
‘Cut out the bullshit, Artie. You’ve had your laugh. Okay, I’ve got it all wrong-steer me straight.’
‘Anything in it for me?’
‘If I get a result, maybe.’
‘Hardly a promise, but I’ll trust you. I’ve got bloody little coming in. Okay, Mountain knew more about it than you, but not enough. All that sleazy stuff still goes on, always has, always will. I’ve written a bit about it
‘I don’t want your CV, Artie. Get on with it.’
‘There’s a whole new drug market opened up. Lots of professional people are skin popping, sniffing, smoking- all that. Some are weekend users and they stay that way. You’d be surprised at some of the jobs they hold down. Top people or on their way to the top. Young and youngish is what I’m talking about, but there’s some oldies too. They don’t just go down the usual places to score, d’you follow?’
I nodded. ‘So what do they do?’
‘It’s a sociological thing, really. The people with the money write the rules
‘Save it, Artie. What happens?’
‘They do it the way they do everything, old son. They hold parties.’
‘Parties?’
‘Exactly. Lots of ‘em. There’s a circuit, or a couple of circuits. Certain people get invited, and they bring along certain substances. These people don’t keep a stash, see? They don’t want to think about it during the week while they’re being managing this and executive that. Quality people with quality money for quality stuff.’
‘This is what Mountain wanted to hear about?’
‘Yep. Another drink?’
He was asking, not offering. I did want another drink and I got up to get it automatically, with my mind mostly on the scene Artie had sketched. I was half way to the bar when Artie made a bolt for it; he would have made it but Harry Tickener chose that moment to open the inward swinging door and Artie had to step back. By that time I had my hand on his shoulder again. Harry looked surprised.
‘Just off? Thought I’d join you.’
‘Where’s your desk, didn’t you bring it?’ I got a firm grip on Artie’s shoulder pad and turned him around. ‘Good to see you, Harry. Let’s all have a drink. Artie here just got the wrong door. He was looking for the bog.’
‘I need it, too.’ Artie growled. ‘Get a round, Hardy. I’ll be back in a minute.’ He shuffled off unsteadily towards the door on which some wag had altered the word to read ‘Bents’. Tickener and I sat down near the pillar.
‘Can he get out of the dunny?’
Harry raised an eyebrow to near where his hairline used to be. ‘Like that is it? No, I don’t think so. I think the loo’s down below street level.’
I got some more scotch for Henderson, the same for Harry and wine for me. I filled Harry in quickly on what Artie had told me, but I didn’t say why I’d been pumping. Harry lit a Camel and dragged on it hard.
‘We ran a story on that stuff a while ago,’ he said. ‘You must have missed it.’
‘I was probably in the middle of The Brothers Karamazov. Artie seems to be full bottle; would he have some names d’you reckon?’
‘Bound to.’
Artie came back with damp hands. He grabbed his glass and swore as it almost slipped through his fingers. But he got half of the whisky down and finished his beer. ‘That wasn’t a bad piece, Harry,’ he whined. ‘You should’ve put in a word
‘Skip it!’ I said, ‘Let’s hear a bit more about the yuppies and drugs.’
‘I told you. Parties. Everybody’s got a legitimate invitation. Hosts do the buying. Take it in turns. All kosher.’
Harry nodded. Artie nicked a Camel from Harry’s pack.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Sounds like kid stuff.’
Artie shrugged; he would have been willing to let it stand there, but Harry wasn’t. If it had been printed in The News, Harry Tickener was there to defend it. ‘Don’t you believe it,’ he said. ‘These people call themselves recreational drug users; they say they’ve got it all under control, but they haven’t, not all of them. Some of them get properly hooked like any dumb kid on the dole, and they need a supply just as badly. They’ve got the money- at least to start with. You know that, Artie.’
‘Sure.’ Harry had touched Artie’s professional pride as he’d intended. ‘That’s right, the hooked ones have to deal bigger to keep a supply, just like Harry says. Gets to be a pressure game. Harry, would you like a piece
‘No. But you can help Cliff a bit more than that, can’t you, Artie?’
‘What’s in it for me?’
‘No double dipping, Artie,” I said. ‘You’ll be seen to if I get somewhere.”
Artie could wheedle with the best of them. ‘I could do a piece on that council, Harry. I know who’s on the take from who.’
‘Whom,’ Harry said. ‘Maybe.’
‘Well, there’s a bit of a party circuit up on the North Shore, Pymble way.’
‘Names,’ I said.
‘I’ve only got two: Gamble-that’s Anthony Gamble on Lady Jane Drive. And a woman named Deirdre Kelly- Montague Street, I think.’
Harry went off to the toilet, and I wrote the names down. ‘Are they recreational or hooked?’
Henderson shrugged. He looked weary, as if the effort of parting with information without immediate financial return had drained him of energy. ‘I heard they were on the way to being hooked. The number of gatherings has gone up or something. That’s the sign, see? You didn’t get this from me, of course.’
‘Naturally not. This what you told Mountain?’
He nodded.
‘Haven’t seen him since?’
‘Not hide nor hair of him.’
‘If you do, you could ask him to get in touch with me.’
He got down off his stool and hitched up his sagging trousers, fighting for a bit of dignity as Harry rejoined us. ‘I might do that, Cliff. See you, Harry.’ He walked away swaying a little and pausing at the open door to make sure he had the all-clear. Harry watched him go, and shook his head.
‘Sad case.’
‘Would that article you ran on this stuff be worth reading?’
‘You can hurt, Cliff, you can really wound. Buy me another drink and I’ll dig it out so you can see for yourself.
