Page 274 of 7+Us Makes Nine

The junkies had shut the front door, probably locking it. The front gate was off its hinges, tangled with overgrowth on what was once a lawn.

I approached the front door carefully. It was rotten and looked flimsy. Half the windows in the house were smashed, and had been lazily boarded with cardboard. Curtains were drawn at the remaining windows.

I smashed the door in with a powerful right foot and marched through the corridor, turning right into the living room. I walked over what seemed like years of detritus and garbage. The place stank.

I heard swearing and scrambling from the room as I entered. The guys were sitting around, two were trying to gather up the drug paraphernalia that was scattered around the room. One was lying down. One was taking a bit hit on a glass pipe, eyes wide as he studied me.

The last was rummaging around in a draw next to an old, stained couch.

“Don’t even think about it. If you’re going for anything that even resembles a weapon, a gun shaped lighter, I will put a bullet between your eyes.”

I had drawn my glock and was holding it in my right hand, supporting the grip with my left.

I waved the gun at the guy, who had turned around to face me.

“Oh fuck, man. We’re all screwed. No way, I can’t get busted. I’m not even high yet, man!” The junkie lying on the floor had rol

led to face me, and was squinting at me through bloodshot eyes as he whined pathetically.

“Shut up. No one is getting busted as long as you do exactly what I say. Now, no one move unless I say so. You’ll have to trust me when I say I’m a mean shot with this. Unless you want to find out the hard way.” I surveyed the room. No one moved. Most were twitching, but none made an effort to get up or run.

“You, on the couch. Hands on your head. Good, now lie down. Head and hands on the opposite side of the chest of drawers.” He obliged, his hands trembling and movements shaky.

“Now, which one of you is the least fucked up?” I asked, inspecting the three men sitting in the living room, garbage scattered around them.

“I, uh. I guess I am. I’ve only had one hit so far,” one said as he raised his hand sheepishly, as if he was in class.

“Good. All I need is a sample of meth. And some info. Then I’ll leave you all to get as high as you like.” He nodded at me enthusiastically.

“Anything, man. We don’t want no trouble, y’know.” He passed me a small plastic baggie of meth, leaning across the room to stretch a skinny arm at me cautiously.

“Don’t give him our stuff!” One of the other guys was on his feet suddenly, frowning. “That’s ours! We earnt it!”

I stepped forward and pistol whipped him savagely on the side of his head as he tried to grab the baggie from his junkie friend. He crumpled to the floor, holding his temple.

“He told you not to move, idiot! Do you want to die, man?” the helpful junkie said, frowning at his friend.

“Listen to your buddy,” I said menacingly, as I took the baggie of meth. I glanced at it briefly. It had the same hue as Lucas’s biker meth he’d brought me. And was plenty enough to get a quality sample or two.

“Now, I need some info. I’m looking for some old associates of mine. Guys who can help me out. It’s very important you tell me the truth now.” I lowered my voice to a gruff monotone, lowering my gun slightly as I pocketed the meth.

“Any of you heard of Freddie Biggs? John “Goldie” O’Hanlan? Or “Shaky” Joe Nelson?” I studied them in turn as I listed the names of my previous police informers. Ones I knew had at least a small chance of being alive, and in town.

The helpful guy was nodding, smiling feverishly. His hand went into the air again.

“Yeah, man. I used to get high with Shaky, a while back now. Last I heard he was shot by some gang who wanted his corner.” He frowned, thoughtfully.

“Ain’t heard of Freddie Biggs for years, since the O’Rourkes got taken down. But John, yeah John with the gold teeth, right? He’s still about. Rolling with the new gang in town, so I hear. Selling dope for them over on the east side. It’s good shit, man. Used to get it from him couple weeks ago. But you can get it on most corners now.” He was looking at me, his glazed eyes gaining focus as the meth wore off gradually.

“Good. Now, listen. I was never here. I hear so much of a peep one of you has been jawing about my visit, I’ll be back. With backup, and five sets of handcuffs. Got it?” They were all nodding.

I pointed the gun at them in turn as I backed out of the room. “Now, get high. And forget I was ever here. Do that, and stay out of trouble, and I’ll never have to bother coming ‘round here again.”

I turned quickly as I left the living room, taking the corridor in two long strides as I jogged back to the car.

I’d already memorised three of the guy’s faces, their features etched into my mind. I took a mental note of where they lived as I headed back to the car.

I wasn’t fucking around when I said I would be back if I heard even a whisper about my visit. I had already learned that idle threats were soon ignored if you didn’t deliver on your promises.

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