we
know?”
7
Campbell had
sunk one too many now. Earlier, with Sam and the boss, it had all
been fine, just a social thing, a morale booster, but now he’d
crossed a line, gone via pleasantly inebriated to drunk and he
needed a pick me up.
The bar maid,
Sophie, had given him her number after a campaign he’d waged
ceaselessly. She probably had to endure idiots giving her bad chat
all the time, so he’d seen it as a challenge. He’d circumvented her
defences by not being that guy, by just talking in a non-look-at-me
way to the point of sympathising when other punters who were that
guy made their drunken approaches. He’d played the nice guy and now
he had her number.
He deleted it
from his phone, adding it to the countless numbers he’d deleted and
thrown away before.
His supply
was running out. It had been good stuff. He wasn’t sure where this
stuff was coming from but it was pretty potent. They hadn’t been
too stingy when they cut it.
He had the
number in his phone. Risky yes but some contacts were invaluable
and there were some things you needed to get you through. In any
case the number was stored under “Boots” on account of the
supplier’s ready access to all things chemical and medicinal. He’d
thought about putting it in as ICI but that might require more
explaining if anyone went through his phone.
He made the
call, took a cab to the foot of Leith Walk and walked along Great
Junction Street until he saw her, standing outside the Tam O’
Shanter, smoking a Marlborough Light. She was out of context down
here, dressed like a successful business woman in a long black coat
and a trouser suit. She stood out here, but not in the places she
frequented on a regular basis. Whatever her surroundings it was
unlikely anyone knew that her brief case contained the various
stimulants and sedatives she supplied to the great and the good,
those with the money to pay a bit more for the sanitised
well-mannered and well turned out version of the drug
dealer.
“ What’s with
the cloak and dagger stuff?” he asked, shooting her an
intentionally wide grin as he walked towards her.
“ Walk,” she
replied in an icy tone as she fell in step with him, continuing
along the road.
“ Ok,” he
said, doing as he was told but wondering where this was going. “Are
you going to tell me where?”
She shoved
him left, and he braced for what he thought was a wall but
staggered instead into an alleyway, his senses swimming in booze.
She launched at him again, pinning him to a bin and he struggled,
pushing her away. She was deceptively strong. “Don’t you think I
watch the news?” she demanded.
“ Wha…”
She lurched
forward again, shoving her hands deep inside his suit jacket,
frisking him for all he was worth. “Are you wearing a wire? Is that
it?”
“ No. What?
How long have we been doing business? We go back a long
way.”
“ Not that
long,” she replied. “I know all about entrapment you
know.”
He held his
hands up. “Ok, it’s a fair cop. So you know who I am. I like to
keep that on the down low, that’s all. There’s nothing suspicious
going on here. Just calm down.”
She looked at
him angrily and he decided she could probably take him if it came
to a fight, through sheer determination alone.
“ Now can I
please purchase some of that fine produce of yours?” Campbell
laughed nervously hating himself for it. “I can’t not have that
stuff in my life.”
“ Forget it,”
she said, throwing her arms in the air. “You’ve had that. How can I
trust you now? You’re too big a risk. Do you know what they’d do to
me?” Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him with utter
contempt.
“ What who’d
do to you?” he asked.
“ Nice
try.”
“ Hey. Surely
we can work this out.”
“ Not likely,”
she scoffed, turning on her heels. “I’d rather not end up with my
head in a bag.”
He watched
her walk away, before pulling out his phone and deleting yet
another
know?”
7
Campbell had
sunk one too many now. Earlier, with Sam and the boss, it had all
been fine, just a social thing, a morale booster, but now he’d
crossed a line, gone via pleasantly inebriated to drunk and he
needed a pick me up.
The bar maid,
Sophie, had given him her number after a campaign he’d waged
ceaselessly. She probably had to endure idiots giving her bad chat
all the time, so he’d seen it as a challenge. He’d circumvented her
defences by not being that guy, by just talking in a non-look-at-me
way to the point of sympathising when other punters who were that
guy made their drunken approaches. He’d played the nice guy and now
he had her number.
He deleted it
from his phone, adding it to the countless numbers he’d deleted and
thrown away before.
His supply
was running out. It had been good stuff. He wasn’t sure where this
stuff was coming from but it was pretty potent. They hadn’t been
too stingy when they cut it.
He had the
number in his phone. Risky yes but some contacts were invaluable
and there were some things you needed to get you through. In any
case the number was stored under “Boots” on account of the
supplier’s ready access to all things chemical and medicinal. He’d
thought about putting it in as ICI but that might require more
explaining if anyone went through his phone.
He made the
call, took a cab to the foot of Leith Walk and walked along Great
Junction Street until he saw her, standing outside the Tam O’
Shanter, smoking a Marlborough Light. She was out of context down
here, dressed like a successful business woman in a long black coat
and a trouser suit. She stood out here, but not in the places she
frequented on a regular basis. Whatever her surroundings it was
unlikely anyone knew that her brief case contained the various
stimulants and sedatives she supplied to the great and the good,
those with the money to pay a bit more for the sanitised
well-mannered and well turned out version of the drug
dealer.
“ What’s with
the cloak and dagger stuff?” he asked, shooting her an
intentionally wide grin as he walked towards her.
“ Walk,” she
replied in an icy tone as she fell in step with him, continuing
along the road.
“ Ok,” he
said, doing as he was told but wondering where this was going. “Are
you going to tell me where?”
She shoved
him left, and he braced for what he thought was a wall but
staggered instead into an alleyway, his senses swimming in booze.
She launched at him again, pinning him to a bin and he struggled,
pushing her away. She was deceptively strong. “Don’t you think I
watch the news?” she demanded.
“ Wha…”
She lurched
forward again, shoving her hands deep inside his suit jacket,
frisking him for all he was worth. “Are you wearing a wire? Is that
it?”
“ No. What?
How long have we been doing business? We go back a long
way.”
“ Not that
long,” she replied. “I know all about entrapment you
know.”
He held his
hands up. “Ok, it’s a fair cop. So you know who I am. I like to
keep that on the down low, that’s all. There’s nothing suspicious
going on here. Just calm down.”
She looked at
him angrily and he decided she could probably take him if it came
to a fight, through sheer determination alone.
“ Now can I
please purchase some of that fine produce of yours?” Campbell
laughed nervously hating himself for it. “I can’t not have that
stuff in my life.”
“ Forget it,”
she said, throwing her arms in the air. “You’ve had that. How can I
trust you now? You’re too big a risk. Do you know what they’d do to
me?” Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him with utter
contempt.
“ What who’d
do to you?” he asked.
“ Nice
try.”
“ Hey. Surely
we can work this out.”
“ Not likely,”
she scoffed, turning on her heels. “I’d rather not end up with my
head in a bag.”
He watched
her walk away, before pulling out his phone and deleting yet
another
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