Headhunter

'I'm freezing,' Scarlett said. 'Let's take this guy downtown.'

The Indian shivered and shook, his spasms slipping out of control. 'Oh, my skin,' he whispered.

Spann nonchalantly took a look at her watch, wondering in her mind if the water had ruined it. 'I'm waiting,' she said.

'F-f-f-fuck you!' But no sooner had the man spoken than a stomach cramp doubled him up.

'Make it easy for yourself. First tell us your name.'

The Indian said nothing.

'Tell me what I want and I promise I'll let you fix.'

'Y-y-yeah sure,' the man said. 'It's a w-w-world of fuckin' deceit.'

'I mean it,' Spann said, dangling the bundle before his nose.

The Indian jerked his head away and looked her in the eye. 'W-w-what do you want?' he asked, the withdrawal taking hold.

'Where do we find John Lincoln Hardy, that black dude that I saw you score from?'

'Go on!' the man said, trying to spit on the ground but his throat was just too dry.

'Tell us now or tell us later. We can wait it out.'

'Lemme fix now, cunt, if you're so fuckin' honest.'

Rick Scarlett lashed out to grab the man by the hair, but Spann was able to intercept and knock aside his hand. 'No Mutt and Jeff,' she said, scowling at her partner. Scarlett merely grunted. Then he dropped his arm.

'Look!' the woman said sharply, turning back to the Indian. 'You don't have much choice here, so let's not screw around. You're wanted on three held warrants out of that undercover operation, all for trafficking. In addition we've now got you cold nuts on possession of junk for the purpose. And then to top it off, the state of your condition tells me that you need a fix. I think you just scored that bundle from Hardy and we got to you before you cranked yourself and farmed the rest of it out.

'Now, don't take me for stupid. If your idea of a good afternoon is writhing around on a jail cell floor while your guts try to squirm out your mouth, be my guest. I don't care. We'll get Hardy all the same. If you talk all it does is save us time.

'So here's the deal. I know Hardy's your pusher, and I know you know how to find him. I can't do anything about the warrants from the undercover trip. They're already in the courts. But I will forget this beef. And I will let you fix. So there's the choice. Take it or leave it. A fix for John Lincoln Hardy.'

Out on the water a float plane droned across the harbor. The Indian winced as another contraction closed its violent fingers around the entrails in his belly. The drone died away as the seaplane banked and made for Vancouver Island.

'Take all the time you want,' Spann said and she opened the knot in the plastic balloon and shook out a Number 5 gelatin capsule. She pulled the pink half from the white half and tapped each rounded end to release the powder within. It blew away in the wind before it hit the ground.

She shook out another cap and emptied it also. Then another, while the Indian watched in horror.

'Where's Hardy?' Spann asked. The powder blew away.

A fourth cap lay in her hand before the junkie broke.

'Ah, fuck, Blondie! Don't be such an a-a-asshole. I don't know where he is! Gimme a fuckin' fix!'

'What's your name?'

'J-j-joe Winalagilis.'

'Where's your outfit, Joe?'

'In a pouch in my other b-b-boot.'

'Take the cuff off one arm, Rick, and chain his other wrist to you.'

Scarlett did not look happy but he did as she suggested. The woman pulled off the second boot as the Indian sat on the ground. She turned it over and an outfit with a burnt spoon fell into her hand.

'Come on,' Spann said. 'Let's find some place to try and strike a deal.'

Single file, the three of them left the pier, Winalagilis stumbling and all three shivering. They made their way past the CPR Ferry dock, past the rows of container trucks down to where there was a tongue of rubble and rock and boom logs that stuck out into the sea. Alongside the mini-peninsula there was a small wooden dock. Moored to the dock with its prow pointing out at Stanley Park beyond the oil barges dotting the harbor was a sailboat swaying and rocking on purple-green water. From this dock they could just make out the Brockton Point totem poles half hidden within the Park's trees.

Winalagilis first, the three of them climbed onboard the boat.

Still soaking wet, they hunkered down in the stern where they were gone from the eyes of the city. Katherine Spann removed a cap from the balloon and emptied it into the spoon.

'I take two,' Winalagilis said.

She opened another one. It was still raining, so the rain provided the water. The Indian had a lighter in his pocket which he took out. While Scarlett shielded the flame, the woman cooked up the mixture. The junk dissolved and she sucked it into the needle.

'Use my headband,' Winalagilis said, so she tied it around his arm. Then she tapped his skin continuously trying to raise a vein. The task was almost impossible. They were cowering down near the bone.

'Okay,' Spann said. 'This is the deal. In return for this jab you tell me all you know about Hardy. Agreed?'

The Indian shivered and nodded. 'Hit me, Blondie! Hit me!' he hissed with excitement in his breath.

Spann slid the needle in. Dark red blood spurted back into the outfit. 'Let it go!' Winalagilis ordered. But Spann didn't press the plunger.

The Indian blinked. 'What the fuck you doin'?'

The woman looked him in the eye. 'Just so we're straight,' she said. 'You come clean on Hardy, and every one forgets this. You lie or fuck up, and we put out on the street that you were the rat. That should have you killed even before you're out of jail. Agreed?'

'Christ yes,' Winalagilis choked.

Spann let the headband go and squirted in the mix.

As the morphine blast hit him in waves, Joe Winalagilis relaxed. A long exhalation escaped from his lips, contentment lighting his face. He closed his eyes and kept them closed for several exhilarating minutes. When he finally opened them once again they were covered with glass.

'Okay,' Spann said. 'Where's John Lincoln Hardy?'

'Huh?'

'Hardy? Your pusher? Where is he?'

'I don't know,' Winalagilis said, his head going into a nod as he smiled from far, far away.

Scarlett looked at Spann and his eyes said, You blew it. What puzzled the woman was the feeling she got that this was what he secretly wanted.

'Where do you meet him to score the stuff?' Spann's voice was screwed up tighter.

'Huh? Oh… him.' A pause. 'He comes to me.'

'Where?' the woman demanded.

'Wherever he finds me… Blondie.'

'Look Joe, I'm warning you. I won't be played for a fool. You've got to have some meeting place where you score junk from him. Where is it?'

'You don't understand.'

'I understand that a deal is a deal.'

'You're making a mistake.'

'Cough up, my man, if you know what's good for you.'

'Your mistake is, Blondie, thinkin' he's pushin' to me.'

Spann glanced at Scarlett as the fact sunk in.

'Truth is, it's me pushin' to him,' the Kwakiutl said.

3:10 p.m.

The Japanese steam bath was Scarlett's idea.