Street Justice (14 page)

“Now, how much for how much?”

“Oh um,” Russ looked over at Jeff.

“Hi, my name is Jeff, we are looking for about half a kilogram for about 12 grand.”

“Russ, I didn’t realize someone was in the room with you. From now on, please identify all the people in the room when we start our conversation.”

“Yes sir.”

“So now, Jeff, let me ask you a couple of questions,” Eric said, then repeated the basic questions asked to Russ earlier. At the end of the questions he added, “Where are you gentlemen located?”

“Seattle,” Jeff said.

“Really? I have no footprint out there.”

“Is that an issue?”

“On the contrary, it is beneficial. It means you won’t be taking clients from an existing distributor of mine. So is this a onetime buy?”

“We’d like it to not be,” Jeff offered, “We have a small delivery service but hope to grow it."

"Have you done this before?"

"Not on this scale, well, to the scale we're planning on," Jeff said.

"And your current competition? How are they going to take this?" Eric asked.

"We don't know," Russ said.

"I am assuming this is where you come into the equation," Eric asked Russ.

"Yes, sir. Though I plan to try and set it up so we don't fight. I'm one man, they have more. While I'm skilled, that can only do so much. So for us, thinking ahead is key," Russ explained.

"I agree," Eric spoke, "Fine. I’ll send along half a key. If all goes well, I can send more. Give me the address and FedEx will deliver tomorrow.”

“FedEx?” Russ asked.

“Yup, the largest drug delivery service in the world.”

Not missing a beat, Jeff told Eric the address and they hung up. Russ looked at Jeff and said, “Well, we’re in business.”

Devon walked up to the corporate offices of Kid Valley on Alaska Way. It was a behind an Ivar’s Seafood restaurant on the pier. Ivar’s and Kid Valley were both owned by the same family. The building was a rustic, aged wood that looked like it was made from the pier itself. He pushed through the front door and found the receptionist.

“Hello, may I help you?” the middle aged woman asked.

“Yes, ma’am. My name is Devon Taylor. I am here to see Julie Dahl.”

“OK, please have a seat and I’ll let her know.” Devon found a seat on the plain gray couch. He had just picked up an old Sports Illustrated when a well dressed woman came through a glass door located next to the receptionist.

She marched straight over to Devon and said, “Hi, I am Julie. Devon?”

Devon gave a slight nod and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Excellent,” Julie said beaming, “Come this way.” Julie pivoted on her heel and headed back through the door she had just used to enter. She did not look back to see if Devon was following her. Devon scrambled to catch up. Julie walked briskly but the pace seemed natural. Shortly down the hallway, Julie turned right into a small windowless room with a few small lockers, a small counter with a sink and a coffee maker.

“This is the break room. You can store your things here if you’d like,” Julie finally stopped and faced Devon. Devon looked down at his empty hands. Julie followed his gaze then straightened and said with a smile, “Well, if you bring something tomorrow, you know where it is.”

She then led Devon down the hall to another small room with a table and a few chairs. “Wait here a moment, I’ll be right back.” Julie walked down the hall and Devon heard her ask, “Do you have the HR package for Devon? Yes, the new kid. Yes, he’s the one Katie sent over. Yes, I will keep an eye on him.” Devon feigned interest in an OSHA poster on the wall as Julie re-entered.

“Please take a seat,” she said. Devon took a seat at the table and Julie set a large stack of papers in front of him. Devon looked at them. Julie sat next to Devon and took the top document and said, this is your W-4, it is for your taxes. This is the employee handbook, you need to read it then initial at the end of each chapter and sign it at the end…” Julie went on, Devon only half listened and only a quarter understood.

Finally Julie finished up and said, “OK, well, I’ll let you get to it.” Julie stood and left the room. Devon watched, picked up the pen and started reading the top sheet.

The complicated writing stymied Devon, but he was a smart kid and started working through the W-4 form. Devon’s phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and glanced at the display. The caller was blocked but Devon answered it anyway, “Hello?”

“Devon, cuz, how ya’ doin’?” came the familiar voice of his friend Dario.

Devon replied, “I’m fine, what’s up?”

“Not much, gotta new package, need a friend to help with the team. You interested?”

Devon looked at the stack of papers covered in obfuscated writing. He would much rather be outside, hanging with his friends earning more than minimum wage. His mouth moved to say yes, but before he could make any noise his mind shifted to Katie. She was a nice lady who he knew truly cared about him. He thought about his last conversation with her, how she had used her personal connections to get him this role. He then knew he could not simply leave, because he would not be walking out on Kidd Valley or Julie, but Katie. He knew he did not want to do that.

“Nah, dawg, I got things to do. I’ll catch ya’ later though.”

“Your loss man, we gonna make some ends.” With that Dario hung up. Devon stuffed his phone back in his pocket, looked at the papers and started reading again.

The next day, Russ answered the door and the FedEx driver handed him a package. He accepted it, closed the door and headed back to the recliner. Bryon and Jeff continued to play Halo: Spartan Assault. Russ tore the box open and pulled out a thickly wrapped package, a bundle of tape and plastic wrap. Peering through the wrap as best he could he saw a large block of off-white.

Jeff, who was sitting on the couch said, “Throw it here.” Russ tossed it to him. Sitting on the table in front of the couch was a digital scale, a plate, a razor blade a few sheets of blank paper, a Sharpie and a large collection of small baggies, about the size of a half dollar. “Yeah, that feels about like 1.1 pounds,” he grinned. Jeff set the half-kilo on the scale. The display shifted to show .55 kilograms. “With the wrapper, that’s about right.”

“What is that?” Bryon said, stopping his game.

“Half a kilo of coke,” Jeff said.

“A what?” Bryon shook his head as if trying to clear water from his ears.

“It’s a half a kilo of coke,” Russ offered, “We’re starting our own company, going around Jeff’s supplier.”

Bryon looked at the coke, looked at Jeff. Jeff stared back. Bryon then looked over to Russ who shrugged at him. “That’s it, I’m out of here.” Bryon stood up and dropped the controller on the couch.

“What?” Russ said.

“Dude, I could go to jail for three years just being in the same room as that much coke. When you two calm down and come to your senses, let me know, until then, I am staying far away,” Bryon stopped as he reached the door, “Though with that much coke in the house I’m not expecting you to calm down any time soon.”

With that he walked out, banging the door closed. For a moment Russ and Jeff just stared at the door.

“So now what?” Russ asked.

“Let him go,” Jeff said, “If he doesn’t want to be part of it we don’t want to try and force him.”

“Um, I guess. Still, I feel bad.”

“His loss,” Jeff picked up the package, “We are going to make a lot of money here.”

Nodding at the package, Russ switched gears, “So now what, with that?”

“Well, now we have to earn our money. This actually is the tedious part of being a dealer. We now need to break these down into ounces, eights, teeners and grams then scoop them into these baggies and mark them.”

“Eights and teeners?” Russ responded.

“Eights are eight balls, 3.5 grams, and teeners are half that size. Why don’t I measure and you bag and label.”

“Yeah that might be a good idea. I’m grabbing a beer, want one?” Russ headed toward the kitchen.

“No you’re not,” Jeff twisted in his seat to look at Russ who had stopped in his tracks.

Turning he asked, “What?”

“You are not getting a beer,” Jeff clarified in a stern voice.

“Wadda you mean?”

“We’re sitting here is a twelve thousand dollar brick of cocaine. Cocaine does not mix well with beer. One bud could cost us thousands if it spills. Second, we’re trying to cut the brick down into smaller amounts then place those small quantities into tiny plastic bags. That doesn’t mix with being drunk.”

Russ thought about it for a moment then pivoted and headed back for the couch, “This my dear friend, is why you’re the business man.”

“Now, once we’re done, I say we sample some product and drink a lot of beer,” Jeff beamed. Leaning in with a razor blade in hand he sliced along the edge of the brick. Rather than white powder puffing out like Russ had always seen in movies, the brick was fairly solid. It reminded Russ of a large chunk of vanilla astronaut freeze dried ice cream he had when he was a kid.

Jeff cut off the first piece and placed it on the scale. It came up a hint over one gram. “You’re pretty good at this,” Russ encouraged.

Looking up he said, “I should be, I’ve been doing this for a while.” He tipped the scale and the small chunk slid off the scale and onto one of the pieces of paper. Jeff slid the paper toward Russ. Russ looked at the small white debris without moving. As Jeff positioned another piece of paper next to the scale, Russ realized what was going on. He quickly moved the paper directly in front of him, opened a bag, then picking up the paper and using it as a funnel, fed the cocaine into the baggie.

Jeff looked up from the scale and said, “It’s easier to label the baggie before you slide the coke in. Just a tip.” Russ, sharpie in hand, looked at his baggie and realized he would now have to write over the bump in the bag. He did so carefully and lightly.

“Yup, you’re right,” Russ replied. He set his first bag to the side, labeled a second bag and took the next piece of paper with another chunk on it. As the continued to work they got into a rhythm. Jeff cut a variety of sizes, usually in one chunk, occasionally two. He dropped them on the sheet and passed them to Russ. Russ scooped the chunk into a pre-labeled baggie and passed the sheet back. In the end, they had several hundred baggies tagged and filled with a variety of weights of cocaine.

"Done," announced Jeff. Russ looked over at the plastic wrap.

"There is more there."

"Oh I know, but no point in bagging that," Jeff winked at Russ, "That's for us for doing such a fine job."

Russ smiled back, "I do think we deserve a bit of something for our efforts. We'll also need a beer."

"Or a dozen," Jeff countered as Russ rose and headed for the kitchen again, "Get a plate while you're in there to cut up this blow."

"Will do," Russ replied. When he returned from the kitchen he handed Jeff the plate while he popped the caps of the dark brown beer bottles. "We should call Mario."

"Do it," Jeff said as he dumped the remaining cocaine from the plastic wrap onto the plate in a little pile. Then he cut out two large lines, fished a dollar bill out of his pocket and rolled it up. Holding the roll to his nose he smoothly inhaled the cocaine. "Wow, this is some good product."

Russ dialed Mario who answered on the third ring, "Mario, come on over, we're about to start partying."

Mario replied, "On my way." Then he hung up without another word.

Jeff handed Russ the dollar and slid the plate toward him. Russ snorted his line. "Oh wow, this is amazing. It makes that other stuff we were doing seem like baking powder. So what's next?"

Jeff answered, "Since we're ready to go, and waiting for Mario, let me start getting the word out that we got stuff and that it is good."

"Nah, it's great," Russ corrected. He leaned back into the couch and clicked the remote. The TV sprang to life. Jeff pulled out his phone and started texting. Within minutes he phone buzzed replies. Twenty minutes later, as Mario arrived, they had a dozen deliveries to make.

Mario knocked once then entered the house. He looked over and saw the pile of baggies and said, "If you're going to have that lying around, you may want to lock the door."

Russ chuckled, "Yeah, how you doin'?"

"I'm good but not as good as it looks like you two are doin'."

"We are doing well," Jeff agreed, "Now come on over here and take one of these cables. Then we gotta head out and make some money." Jeff's phone buzzed again, he looked at it then answered, "Heck, if this keeps up, we'll be through our order in a day or two."

Adrian turned off the car and turned to Steve and said, “Well, it looks like we’ll be here a while. Do you want to go get the coffee or should I go?”

Steve didn’t answer, instead he looked past Adrian, at the store.

“Steve?” Adrian prompted, “Coffee?”

Distracted, Steve never moved his eyes from the wheel shop, “Yeah, no, I got it. Coffee. I’ll go.” His hands started scrapping the door, still never taking his eyes from the shop. After dragging his hand across the interior of the door several times he glanced down and grabbed the handle. His gaze immediately went back to the wheel shop and the door popped open.