BACK TO BASICS
by
Brad Quarry
Chapter One
Jack Forzenski woke with a start, the pounding in his head forcing him back onto the mattress. His old partner, Marcus Hill, sat facing him in a chair. Jack's Airstream trailer rocked with his flop to the mattress, but he lay still with a forearm over his eyes.
"What time is it?" Jack asked.
"Quarter to three, you lazy ass punk. Get your ass outta bed." Marcus stood and threw a towel on Jack. "And for God's sake, take a shower. You smell like pig shit."
It had been a year since Jack and Marcus had faced down Mr. Big, a withered man still pushing from his bunkers. The market for Liquid Soul had dropped to near extinction after his demise, but a new formulation of the drug had resurfaced on the west coast. Jack and Marcus, under the auspices of the DEA, had been tracking the sale and distribution of the new formula for two weeks. The effects, other than perceived invincibility, were moving toward psychotic ideations and hallucinations, due to the addition of a pure form of adrenachrome.
Jack sat up again and rubbed his temples. He'd been surprised at the DEA's willingness to hire him as an agent, and even more surprised that his supervisor at the Rockland Police Department, Capt. Joe Kowalski, had approved of the move. The RPD had been stretched thin, and Jack thought that the department would need him. But Kowalski, who was also his uncle, thought that Jack's services would be more valuable to the DEA. At least Jack had gotten a nicer place out of the deal.
"Get a move on, Jack," Marcus called from the kitchen.
"All right, all right!" Jack hauled himself up. "Why don't you make yourself useful and get …"
"… the coffee ready. Jesus Jack, you really think I'd forget your lifeblood?"
"Ass."
Jack emerged from the small bathroom to the smell of slightly burned coffee. He sat down and poured a cup of the sludge Marcus had made, then paused to light a cigarette and run his hand through his wet black hair. His bright Acapulco shirt nearly blinded Marcus as he sat on the other side of the table.
"So," Jack said, taking his first sip of the motor oil in his cup, "what's on the agenda today?"
"Kowalski passed on a tip from a mid-range pusher that a shipment of the new Liquid Soul is due in Pillar Point Harbor late tonight. It's being run up from Manzanillo, Mexico by Guillermo Villegos on a cigarette boat."
"We gotta waste our time on Villegos? On a shipment that small?"
"Rumor has it that Villegos is running the shipment up Highway 101 and into Seattle, where he's gonna pass it off to Andre Pedersen."
"Aw, shit. The lab guy?"
"One and the same. Apparently Pedersen's meth cooking days are over."
"Yeah, but the equipment's nearly the same, and since there's no smell with Liquid Soul …"
"Pedersen's pretty much able to do whatever the hell he wants, and keep his labs mobile. Yeah."
Jack took another sip of his coffee and extinguished his cigarette. He stood up, his knees knocking the edge of the table.
"I gotta get a bigger place."
"Hey, you nab the right guys on this one, you might get a condo."
"Right. Fuck it. Let's roll."