The roar of the car's engine scared wildlife for a hundred yards around.
Birds fluttered from their perches and small animals fled in panic before
the intrusion of man in their peaceful green domain.
LeRoy heard the noise and leaned across a battered iron stove until he could peek out the window and watch the car pull up outside the little shack. He nodded approvingly to himself. Now that was a ride! Sleek lines, flashy paint job - bet it was fast, too. Beat that freaking jeep he had to drive to maintain his image.
Two people climbed slowly out of the car. Tandy he dismissed without a second glance. She hadn't agreed to let him pimp her, but they had reached an equitable arrangement some time ago so far as the drugs were concerned. Tandy had contacts - some even came from as far as 'Frisco regularly to stock up. Simpson provided the product; good quality and even occasionally quantity. Together they made a profitable team and were starting to deal big time. And big time, LeRoy reflected, was what it was all about.
Simpson watched the tail black get out of the sporty car, carefully summing the man up and paying particular interest to the expensive leather briefcase the man carried. The tall man dressed like LeRoy would himself if he could - cool, a bit flamboyant, but he carried himself as if he were used to such clothes.
No cop - LeRoy would know it if he was. Uh-huh, this brother smelled of the streets. And the clothes spoke money - a language LeRoy could relate to.
Tandy climbed the rickety steps and knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open. The door made a loud squealing noise on rusting hinges before giving up the fight to remain in a closed position. "LeRoy?"
"Right here, baby." Simpson moved closer to the entrance, his booted feet thumping heavily on the old wood. "Ya wanna introduce me to the boyfriend?"
"LeRoy, this is Abdul Kamar. Abdul is from Las Vegas."
"Is that right?" Neither man offered to shake. They spent several seconds sizing each other up the way two alley cats might assess a possible threat. LeRoy, impressed despite himself, nodded. "What it is, brother. I understand you want to do a little business."
"Maybe." Abdul maintained an impassive expression, obviously far less impressed than was Simpson.
"What +choo looking for?"
"What do ya got?"
Simpson snarled. "You here to play games or sumpthin'? I asked what're you looking for?"
"Smack!" It was Tandy who broke the stubborn silence, not understanding the source of the tension- "He's looking for smack, LeRoy. In quantity. "
"Quantity. Right." Simpson bared white teeth- "Tandy says you're looking for a kee?"
Kamar cocked his head, examining Simpson as one might a particularly repulsive if harmless insect. "One kilo now. More if it's good.
Simpson, too impressed now even for indignation, giggled. "You can move that much horse?"
The other man smiled coldly. "You let me worry how I'm gonna move it, m'man. Question is, can you supply it?"
LeRoy puffed up, affronted. "I can supply anything you can move, man. But I ain't showing nuthin' till I see your bread."
Kamar hefted the briefcase, obviously considering his options. "Solid." He set the case on the rough table and snapped open the locks.
"Far out!" LeRoy breathed. Money, green, crisp, beautiful money, lay neatly stacked in the bottom of the case. LeRoy reached for a wad, but Kamar was there first, blocking access.
"I want to see your product first, bro. Not that I don't trust you, you understand, but I don't be seeing no stash, either."
Simpson shot him a murderous glare, but withdrew his hand. "Right here, bro."
He gave the old stove a push, enjoying the surprise on the other man's face when it moved silently on well-oiled castors. Underneath, partly concealed in a small hollow, lay a steel box; small beetles scampered out of the way when it was withdrawn. Simpson stamped on one particularly bloated insect disgusted. "I always did hate those things." He pulled out a key and unlocked the box. "Enjoy."
A wrapped plastic bag filled with a brownish powder lay inside the box. Kamar lifted it thoughtfully in one hand, gauging the weight. "Feels about right."
"It's on the money, dude."
Simpson watched carefully as Kamar slit a small hole into the bag and dipped in a finger. The finger disappeared into his mouth. "Heroin."
"What 'ja expect, baby powder?"
"Tastes like decent quality."
"You won't get better," Simpson boasted "And I can supply heavy, long as you're up front with the green."
"That's all we needed to know." A voice from the open door drew all three around violently.
"Oh, sunofa--!" Simpson's eyes bulged, shock and dismay written clearly across the strong features.
"Wrong. Cops." A large grin followed by Starsky stepped into the room. Hutch close at his heels. Both had their weapons drawn.
"How. . . how. . . oh, no, " Simpson repeated. He turned furiously on Tandy. "You were followed, you stupid whore!"
Tandy recoiled, both hands raised defensively. "I didn't--" The blow sounded unnaturally loud, bone against bone. It caught the girl high on the cheek and knocked her back across the old stove. She fell to the floor with a clatter.
Eyes blazing cold fury, Hutch bunched the front of LeRoy's shirt with one powerful hand and slammed him into the rough planked wall. The Magnum dug uncomfortably into the man's throat, cutting off oxygen. "Touch her again, scumbucket, and I'll kill you."
Simpson drank deep those wintry eyes and saw his own death reflected therein. He froze.
"Don't blame the girl." Starsky reached down and drew Tandy to her feet. "We didn't follow her."
"Then how...?" Simpson croaked.
"We followed you."
"Me?" Simpson gawked. "But I didn't see nobody."
"Which is exactly what you can expect to see when I follow you." Starsky grinned at the quotation from Sherlock Holmes. "And I always keep my word. You're gonna do hard time for this, LeRoy." He pulled a pair of cuffs out of his pocket. "You, too, Tandy." When Tandy said nothing, he shifted his attention to the fourth man of the group, Abdul, who was looking exceptionally calm under the circumstances. "How ya doin', Huggy?"
"Huggy?!" This from the mouths of both prisoners.
Abdul All Kamar, A.K.A. Huggy Bear, grinned broadly. "I'm doin' just fahn, Starsky, now that ah can get out 'a these mundane threads and into mah own more stylish apparel." He flicked an imaginary speck of lint from one lapel. "Just don't seem right, lookin' so..."
"Normal?" Starsky supplied helpfully.
Huggy buffed his fingernails on his vest. "Normal ain't what I was about, m ' man!"
"You're a plant." Tandy stared at Huggy as though she'd never really seen him before. "All the time I'm spending with you and you're nothing but another lousy cop." She looked disgusted. "I must be losing my touch."
"Not from where I was sitting last night, sugar."
"Yeah, where were you sitting last night, Hug?" Starsky finished cuffing Simpson, who was still gaping stupidly. "We lost track of you after you left the bar."
"A gentlemen never tells, m'boy," Huggy grinned expansively. "But it sure do beat listening at keyholes!"
Up until now LeRoy had maintained an astonished silence, for once at a loss for words. Finally it dawned on him that the "big time" he'd wanted so badly was going to be exactly that - big time - in prison. A stream of invective heralded this sudden enlightenment. "This was your idea, wasn't it, Hutchinson?" he finished, yanking wildly at his bound hands. "I could- -"
"Hey, hey, LeRoy, that ain't fair. You really ought'a give credit where credit is due." Starsky smiled modestly.
"He means it was his idea," Hutch translated. He shrugged at Simpson's disbelieving look. "What can I say? Sometimes he's smarter than he looks."
Starsky grimaced indignantly, but allowed the left-handed compliment to pass. Not so Simpson. "Your idea, was it, white boy? You made a bad enemy in me. A real bad enemy. Both of you."
Starsky took a menacing step closer. "Save your threats, LeRoy. By the time you get out of jail, you're going to be too old to carry 'em out."
Unintimidated, Simpson studied him closely as if to commit every detail of the detective's features to memory. He gave Hutch the same treatment, his eyes full of murder.
"Come on, LeRoy." Hutch gave the man a shove toward the door. "We're going for a ride."
Starsky led the handcuffed Tandy out as well, but pulled up short in front of Abdul's sleek red sportscar. "My car!" he cheered happily. "Oh, baby, it's been a long time!"
"That's your car, huh?" Tandy asked disparagingly. "Figures." "Sweetheart, that ain't just a car, that's a work of art!" Starsky caressed one fender lovingly, much to Hutch's disgust.
"Will you come on, Starsk? I want to finish booking these two before midnight."
Starsky polished the fender with his sleeve before reluctantly resuming his trip to the Ford. "'Kay. Hey, Hug, drive her careful back to town, will 'ya? I've been looking forward to having her back for a long time."
Fists planted on his narrow hips, Huggy Bear turned a fierce eye on the curly-haired detective. "Careful? I've been driving this big soup can around for better'n three weeks. You see a scratch on it?" he demanded, kicking one tire.
Starsky winced. "No, but..."
"A dent anywhere?"
"No..."
"Then what choo talkin' 'bout, drive careful?" Huggy slipped easily into the street jive he'd been unable to use for nearly a month. "Way you drive, man, you gots no room to talk." Starsky glowered and returned to wipe the white wall with a handkerchief fished from his back pocket; Tandy rolled her eyes. "What's the matter with the way I drive?"
"Will you two come on?" Hutch bellowed, effectively silencing them both.
"Okay, okay." Starsky shoved Tandy into the back seat of the Ford. He made to say something, then broke off to wink at Hutch over the roof of the car, that crooked little grin lighting his face from within. "Hey, Hutch?" Hutch smiled back - he had to - never having been able to resist responding to that liquid sunshine. "What, Starsk?"
"Just like old times, ain't it?"
Hutch looked up into the crystal blue sky, breathed deep the gentle fragrance of the forest- He listened to the birds singing again from the trees and examined the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment which came from a job well done. And lastly, he looked back at the curly-haired imp grinning at him from across the car, and his heart filled to bursting with joy. "No, Starsk, it's not quite like old times. "It's better." ***
LeRoy heard the noise and leaned across a battered iron stove until he could peek out the window and watch the car pull up outside the little shack. He nodded approvingly to himself. Now that was a ride! Sleek lines, flashy paint job - bet it was fast, too. Beat that freaking jeep he had to drive to maintain his image.
Two people climbed slowly out of the car. Tandy he dismissed without a second glance. She hadn't agreed to let him pimp her, but they had reached an equitable arrangement some time ago so far as the drugs were concerned. Tandy had contacts - some even came from as far as 'Frisco regularly to stock up. Simpson provided the product; good quality and even occasionally quantity. Together they made a profitable team and were starting to deal big time. And big time, LeRoy reflected, was what it was all about.
Simpson watched the tail black get out of the sporty car, carefully summing the man up and paying particular interest to the expensive leather briefcase the man carried. The tall man dressed like LeRoy would himself if he could - cool, a bit flamboyant, but he carried himself as if he were used to such clothes.
No cop - LeRoy would know it if he was. Uh-huh, this brother smelled of the streets. And the clothes spoke money - a language LeRoy could relate to.
Tandy climbed the rickety steps and knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open. The door made a loud squealing noise on rusting hinges before giving up the fight to remain in a closed position. "LeRoy?"
"Right here, baby." Simpson moved closer to the entrance, his booted feet thumping heavily on the old wood. "Ya wanna introduce me to the boyfriend?"
"LeRoy, this is Abdul Kamar. Abdul is from Las Vegas."
"Is that right?" Neither man offered to shake. They spent several seconds sizing each other up the way two alley cats might assess a possible threat. LeRoy, impressed despite himself, nodded. "What it is, brother. I understand you want to do a little business."
"Maybe." Abdul maintained an impassive expression, obviously far less impressed than was Simpson.
"What +choo looking for?"
"What do ya got?"
Simpson snarled. "You here to play games or sumpthin'? I asked what're you looking for?"
"Smack!" It was Tandy who broke the stubborn silence, not understanding the source of the tension- "He's looking for smack, LeRoy. In quantity. "
"Quantity. Right." Simpson bared white teeth- "Tandy says you're looking for a kee?"
Kamar cocked his head, examining Simpson as one might a particularly repulsive if harmless insect. "One kilo now. More if it's good.
Simpson, too impressed now even for indignation, giggled. "You can move that much horse?"
The other man smiled coldly. "You let me worry how I'm gonna move it, m'man. Question is, can you supply it?"
LeRoy puffed up, affronted. "I can supply anything you can move, man. But I ain't showing nuthin' till I see your bread."
Kamar hefted the briefcase, obviously considering his options. "Solid." He set the case on the rough table and snapped open the locks.
"Far out!" LeRoy breathed. Money, green, crisp, beautiful money, lay neatly stacked in the bottom of the case. LeRoy reached for a wad, but Kamar was there first, blocking access.
"I want to see your product first, bro. Not that I don't trust you, you understand, but I don't be seeing no stash, either."
Simpson shot him a murderous glare, but withdrew his hand. "Right here, bro."
He gave the old stove a push, enjoying the surprise on the other man's face when it moved silently on well-oiled castors. Underneath, partly concealed in a small hollow, lay a steel box; small beetles scampered out of the way when it was withdrawn. Simpson stamped on one particularly bloated insect disgusted. "I always did hate those things." He pulled out a key and unlocked the box. "Enjoy."
A wrapped plastic bag filled with a brownish powder lay inside the box. Kamar lifted it thoughtfully in one hand, gauging the weight. "Feels about right."
"It's on the money, dude."
Simpson watched carefully as Kamar slit a small hole into the bag and dipped in a finger. The finger disappeared into his mouth. "Heroin."
"What 'ja expect, baby powder?"
"Tastes like decent quality."
"You won't get better," Simpson boasted "And I can supply heavy, long as you're up front with the green."
"That's all we needed to know." A voice from the open door drew all three around violently.
"Oh, sunofa--!" Simpson's eyes bulged, shock and dismay written clearly across the strong features.
"Wrong. Cops." A large grin followed by Starsky stepped into the room. Hutch close at his heels. Both had their weapons drawn.
"How. . . how. . . oh, no, " Simpson repeated. He turned furiously on Tandy. "You were followed, you stupid whore!"
Tandy recoiled, both hands raised defensively. "I didn't--" The blow sounded unnaturally loud, bone against bone. It caught the girl high on the cheek and knocked her back across the old stove. She fell to the floor with a clatter.
Eyes blazing cold fury, Hutch bunched the front of LeRoy's shirt with one powerful hand and slammed him into the rough planked wall. The Magnum dug uncomfortably into the man's throat, cutting off oxygen. "Touch her again, scumbucket, and I'll kill you."
Simpson drank deep those wintry eyes and saw his own death reflected therein. He froze.
"Don't blame the girl." Starsky reached down and drew Tandy to her feet. "We didn't follow her."
"Then how...?" Simpson croaked.
"We followed you."
"Me?" Simpson gawked. "But I didn't see nobody."
"Which is exactly what you can expect to see when I follow you." Starsky grinned at the quotation from Sherlock Holmes. "And I always keep my word. You're gonna do hard time for this, LeRoy." He pulled a pair of cuffs out of his pocket. "You, too, Tandy." When Tandy said nothing, he shifted his attention to the fourth man of the group, Abdul, who was looking exceptionally calm under the circumstances. "How ya doin', Huggy?"
"Huggy?!" This from the mouths of both prisoners.
Abdul All Kamar, A.K.A. Huggy Bear, grinned broadly. "I'm doin' just fahn, Starsky, now that ah can get out 'a these mundane threads and into mah own more stylish apparel." He flicked an imaginary speck of lint from one lapel. "Just don't seem right, lookin' so..."
"Normal?" Starsky supplied helpfully.
Huggy buffed his fingernails on his vest. "Normal ain't what I was about, m ' man!"
"You're a plant." Tandy stared at Huggy as though she'd never really seen him before. "All the time I'm spending with you and you're nothing but another lousy cop." She looked disgusted. "I must be losing my touch."
"Not from where I was sitting last night, sugar."
"Yeah, where were you sitting last night, Hug?" Starsky finished cuffing Simpson, who was still gaping stupidly. "We lost track of you after you left the bar."
"A gentlemen never tells, m'boy," Huggy grinned expansively. "But it sure do beat listening at keyholes!"
Up until now LeRoy had maintained an astonished silence, for once at a loss for words. Finally it dawned on him that the "big time" he'd wanted so badly was going to be exactly that - big time - in prison. A stream of invective heralded this sudden enlightenment. "This was your idea, wasn't it, Hutchinson?" he finished, yanking wildly at his bound hands. "I could- -"
"Hey, hey, LeRoy, that ain't fair. You really ought'a give credit where credit is due." Starsky smiled modestly.
"He means it was his idea," Hutch translated. He shrugged at Simpson's disbelieving look. "What can I say? Sometimes he's smarter than he looks."
Starsky grimaced indignantly, but allowed the left-handed compliment to pass. Not so Simpson. "Your idea, was it, white boy? You made a bad enemy in me. A real bad enemy. Both of you."
Starsky took a menacing step closer. "Save your threats, LeRoy. By the time you get out of jail, you're going to be too old to carry 'em out."
Unintimidated, Simpson studied him closely as if to commit every detail of the detective's features to memory. He gave Hutch the same treatment, his eyes full of murder.
"Come on, LeRoy." Hutch gave the man a shove toward the door. "We're going for a ride."
Starsky led the handcuffed Tandy out as well, but pulled up short in front of Abdul's sleek red sportscar. "My car!" he cheered happily. "Oh, baby, it's been a long time!"
"That's your car, huh?" Tandy asked disparagingly. "Figures." "Sweetheart, that ain't just a car, that's a work of art!" Starsky caressed one fender lovingly, much to Hutch's disgust.
"Will you come on, Starsk? I want to finish booking these two before midnight."
Starsky polished the fender with his sleeve before reluctantly resuming his trip to the Ford. "'Kay. Hey, Hug, drive her careful back to town, will 'ya? I've been looking forward to having her back for a long time."
Fists planted on his narrow hips, Huggy Bear turned a fierce eye on the curly-haired detective. "Careful? I've been driving this big soup can around for better'n three weeks. You see a scratch on it?" he demanded, kicking one tire.
Starsky winced. "No, but..."
"A dent anywhere?"
"No..."
"Then what choo talkin' 'bout, drive careful?" Huggy slipped easily into the street jive he'd been unable to use for nearly a month. "Way you drive, man, you gots no room to talk." Starsky glowered and returned to wipe the white wall with a handkerchief fished from his back pocket; Tandy rolled her eyes. "What's the matter with the way I drive?"
"Will you two come on?" Hutch bellowed, effectively silencing them both.
"Okay, okay." Starsky shoved Tandy into the back seat of the Ford. He made to say something, then broke off to wink at Hutch over the roof of the car, that crooked little grin lighting his face from within. "Hey, Hutch?" Hutch smiled back - he had to - never having been able to resist responding to that liquid sunshine. "What, Starsk?"
"Just like old times, ain't it?"
Hutch looked up into the crystal blue sky, breathed deep the gentle fragrance of the forest- He listened to the birds singing again from the trees and examined the feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment which came from a job well done. And lastly, he looked back at the curly-haired imp grinning at him from across the car, and his heart filled to bursting with joy. "No, Starsk, it's not quite like old times. "It's better." ***