'This drug turns people into psychotic supermen who don't feel pain or bleed?'
'Makes you long for the sixties and good old LSD, doesn't it?'
'Who would make something like this?'
'After working the ER for six years, I've lost count of the different ways people attempt to destroy themselves. I just patch them up so they can go do it again.'
'You sound cynical.'
'I'm the one who stitched up all the holes you put in this guy, and you're calling me a cynic?'
She had a point. Curiosity prompting me onward, I called the DEA.
'You've no doubt heard about the Big Bust.'
The Big Bust the agent referred to was a capture of almost a billion dollars in heroin off the Florida coast. One of the largest drug seizures in history.
'That left a vacuum in the market,' he went on. 'The junkies still needed something to shoot, so a West Coast drug ring hired some chemists to cook up a replacement. We've already shut down three Hydro labs, but they're popping up all over the place. It's a bad high too. Causes some major freak-outs.'
'I've seen it. We shot a man eleven times, and he took off like Carl Lewis.'
'Eleven? Not even close to the record. Two cops in Compton cornered a Hydro-head with a Mac-10, took twenty-eight shots to bring him down. Bad drug.'
'My guy's still alive.'
'So's this guy. Has to be fed through a tube, though. We're thinking of using him as our new antidrug poster boy.'
My faith in human nature restored, I checked Herb's office again. No Herb. I took his coffee, mine long gone, then went to check on Officer Fuller and the database.
'Just get in?' I asked.
He was hunched over his computer, squinting at a spreadsheet. I must have surprised him, because he flinched when he heard my voice.
'Oh, hi, Lieut. No, been here for a while. Why?'
'It's ten degrees in here, and you're sweating.'
He smiled. 'I've been blessed with a high metabolism.'
'I wish I was that lucky. How's the database coming?'
'Slow. You've had a lot of arrests.'
'I've been blessed with a long career. Any matches yet with County's sign-in book?'
He shook his head. 'If I find one, you'll be the second to know.'
'Thanks, Officer. Carmichael is retiring this October, which means a slot in the Detective Division is opening up.'
Fuller mumbled something under his breath that I didn't make out.
'Pardon me?'
'Just saying a silent prayer, Lieut. I've been trying to get into DD for over a year, and you guys keep passing me over.'
'You're a good cop, Fuller. But the cops that took those slots had seniority.'
He mumbled something again, and I got the distinct impression I'd been insulted. I let it go. Fuller had a right to be disappointed -- he went above and beyond the call of duty to help Herb and me whenever possible, even off the clock. Fuller had a nose for homicide, especially the violent ones, and more than once his input had proven valuable.
Still, he'd only been a cop for three years, and no one rose up the ranks that quickly. The system didn't allow it.
'Don't have anything yet, huh?' I asked.
'Not yet, but if there's something, I'll find it.'
I thanked him, and noticed Benedict out of the corner of my eye. Actually, I'd heard him before seeing him. He was whistling.
'Good morning, Herb.'
'Morning, Jack.' He smiled, and then winked.
I eyed him suspiciously. 'Everything okay, Herb?'
'Everything is wonderful. Couldn't be better.'
'You're late this morning.'
'I slept in.' Herb winked again.
'Is something wrong with your eye?'
'No. Why?'
