璇玑之心刃·冷血悍将-第140章

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　into　the　body　cavity　and　remove　four　clear…plastic　envelopes　of　white　powder；　which　he　quickly　put　into　his　bag　before　reclosing　the　gaping　hole　in　Duane　Kendall‘s　body。　It　was　his　third　and　last　such　recovery　of　the　day。　After　spending　half　an　hour　on　one　more　body；　it　was　the　end　of　his　working　day。　The　mortician　walked　off　to　his　car；　a　Mercury　Cougar；　and　drove　off　post。　He　stopped　off　at　a　Winn…Dixie　supermarket　to　pick　up　a　loaf　of　bread；　and　on　the　way　out　dropped　some　coins　into　a　public　phone。
‘Yeah？‘　Henry　Tucker　said；　picking　it　up　on　the　first　ring。
‘Eight。‘　The　phone　clicked　off。
‘Good；‘　Tucker　said；　really　to　himself；　putting　the　receiver　down。　Eight　kilos　from　this　one。　Seven　from　his　other　man；　neither　man　knew　that　the　other　was　there；　and　the　pickups　from　each　were　done　on　different　days　of　the　week。　Things　could　pick　up　rapidly　now　that　he　was　getting　his　distribution　problems　in　hand。
The　arithmetic　was　simple　enough。　Each　kilo　was　one　thousand　grams。　Each　kilo　would　be　diluted　with　non…toxic　agents　like　milk　sugar；　which　his　friends　obtained　from　a　grocery…supply　warehouse。　After　careful　mixing　to　ensure　uniformity　throughout　the　entire　batch；　others　would　divide　the　bulk　powder　into　smaller　‘bits‘　of　the　drugs　that　could　be　sold　in　smaller　batches。　The　quality　and　burgeoning　reputation　of　his　product　guaranteed　a　slightly　higher　than　normal　price　which　was　anticipated　by　the　wholesale　cost　he　received　from　his　white　friends。
The　problem　would　soon　bee　one　of　scale。　He‘d　started　his　operation　small；　since　Tucker　was　a　careful　man；　and　size　made　for　greed。　That　would　soon　bee　impossible。　His　supply　of　pure　refined　heroin　was　far　more　extensive　than　his　partners　knew。　They　were；　for　now；　happy　that　its　quality　was　so　high；　and　he　would　gradually　reveal　to　them　the　magnitude　of　his　supply；　while　never　giving　them　a　hint　of　his　method　of　shipment；　for　which　he　regularly　congratulated　himself。　The　sheer　elegance　of　it　was　striking；　even　to　him。　The　best　government　estimates　…　he　kept　track　of　such　things　…　of　heroin　imports　from　Europe；　the　‘French‘　or　‘Sicilian‘　connection；　since　they　could　never　seem　to　get　the　terminology　right；　amounted　to　roughly　one　metric　ton　of　pure　drugs　per　year。　That；　Tucker　judged；　would　have　to　grow；　because　drugs　were　the　ing　thing　in　American　vice。　If　he　could　bring　in　a　mere　twenty　kilos　of　drugs　per　week　…　and　his　shipment　modality　was　capable　of　more　than　that　…　he　had　that　number　beaten；　and　he　didn‘t　have　to　worry　about　customs　inspectors。　Tucker　had　set　up　his　organization　with　a　careful　eye　on　the　security　issue。　For　starters；　none　of　the　important　people　on　his　team　touched　drugs。　To　do　so　was　death；　a　fact　that　he　had　made　clear　early　on　in　the　simplest　and　clearest　possible　way。　The　distant　end　of　the　operation　required　only　six　people。　Two　procured　the　drugs　from　local　sources　whose　security　was　guaranteed　by　the　usual　means　…　large　sums　of　cash　paid　to　the　right　people。　The　four　on…site　morticians　were　also　very　well　paid　and　had　been　selected　for　their　businesslike　stability。　The　United　States　Air　Force　handled　transportation；　reducing　his　costs　and　headaches　for　what　was　usually　the　most　plicated　and　dangerous　part　of　the　import　process。　The　two　at　the　receiving　station　were　similarly　careful　men。　More　than　once；　they‘d　reported；　circumstances　had　pelled　them　to　leave　the　heroin　in　the　bodies；　which　had　been　duly　buried。　That　was　too　bad；　of　course；　but　a　good　business　was　a　careful　business；　and　the　street　markup　easily　pensated　for　the　loss。　Besides；　those　two　knew　what　would　happen　if　they　even　thought　about　diverting　a　few　kilos　for　their　own　enterprises。
From　there　it　was　merely　a　matter　of　transport　by　automobile　to　a　convenient　place；　and　that　was　handled　by　a　trusted　and　well…paid　man　who　never　once　exceeded　a　speed　limit。　Doing　things　on　the　Bay；　Tucker　thought；　sipping　on　his　beer　and　watching　a　baseball　game；　was　his　masterstroke。　In　addition　to　all　the　other　advantages　that　the　location　gave　him；　he‘d　given　his　new　partners　reason　to　believe　that　the　drugs　were　dropped　off　ships　heading　up　the　Chesapeake　Bay　to　the　Port　of　Baltimore　…　which　they　thought　wonderfully　clever　…　when　in　fact　he　transported　them　himself　from　a　covert　pickup　point。　Angelo　Vorano　had　proven　that　by　buying　his　dumb　little　sailboat　and　offering　to　make　a　pickup。　Convincing　Eddie　and　Tony　that　he‘d　burned　them　to　the　police　had　been　so　easy。
With　a　little　luck　he　could　take　over　the　entire　East　Coast　heroin　market　for　as　long　as　Americans　continued　to　die　in　Vietnam。　It　was　also　time；　he　told　himself；　to　plan　for　the　peace　that　would　probably　break　out　some　day。　In　the　meantime　he　needed　to　think　about　finding　a　way　to　expand　his　distribution　work。　What　he　had；　while　it　had　worked；　and　while　it　had　brought　him　to　the　attention　of　his　new　partners；　was　rapidly　being　outdated。　It　was　too　small　for　his　ambitions；　and　soon　it　would　have　to　be　restructured。　But　one　thing　at　a　time。
‘Okay；　it‘s　official。‘　Douglas　dropped　the　case　file　on　the　desk　and　looked　at　his　boss。
‘What‘s　that？‘　Lieutenant　Ryan　asked。
‘First；　nobody　saw　anything。　Second；　nobody　knew　what　pimp　she　worked　for。　Third；　nobody　even　knows　who　she　was。　Her　father　hung　up　on　me　after　he　said　he　hasn‘t　talked　to　his　daughter　in　four　years。　That　boyfriend　didn‘t　see　shit　before　or　after　he　was　shot。‘　The　detective　sat　down。
‘And　the　mayor‘s　not　interested　anymore；‘　Ryan　finished　the　case　summary。
‘You　know；　Em；　I　don‘t　mind　running　a　covert　investigation；　but　it　is　hurting　my　success　rate。　What　if　I　don‘t　get　promoted　next　board？‘
‘Funny；　Tom。‘
Douglas　shook　his　head　and　stared　out　the　window。　‘Hell；　what　if　it　really　was　the　Dynamic　Duo？‘　the　sergeant　asked　in　frustration。　The　pair　of　shotgun　robbers　had　killed　again　two　nights　before；　this　time　murdering　an　attorney　from　Essex。　There　had　been　a　witness　in　a　car　fifty　yards　away；　who　had　confirmed　that　there　were　two　of　them；　which　wasn‘t　exactly　news。　There　was　also　a　generally　held　belief　in　police　work　that　the　murder　of　a　lawyer　ought　not　to　be　a　crime　at　all；　but　neither　man　joked　about　this　investigation。
‘Let　me　know　when　you　start　believing　that；‘　Ryan　said　quietly。　Both　knew　better；　of　course。　These　two　were　only　robbers。　They‘d　killed　several　times；　and　had　twice　driven　their　victim‘s　car　a　few　blocks；　but　in　both　cases　it　had　been　a　sporty　car；　and　probably　they‘d　wanted　no　more　than　to　have　a　brief　fling　with　a　nice　set　of　wheels。　The　police　knew　size；　color；　and　little　else。　But　the　Duo　were　businesslike　crooks；　and　whoever　had　murdered　Pamela　Madden　had　wanted　to　make　a　very　personal　impression；　or　there　was　a　new　and　very　sick　killer　about；　which　possibility　added　merely　one　more　plication　to　their　already　busy　lives。
‘We　were　close；　weren‘t　we？‘　Douglas　asked。　‘This　girl　had　names　and　faces；　and　she　was　an　eyewitness。‘
‘But　we　never　knew　she　was　there　until　after　that　bonehead　lost　her　for　us；‘　Ryan　said。
‘Well；　he‘s　back　to　wherever　the　hell　he　goes　to；　and　we‘re　back　to　where　we　were　before；　too。‘　Douglas　picked　up　the　file　and　walked　back　to　his　desk。
It　was　after　dark　when　Kelly　tied　Springer　up。　He　looked　up　to　note　that　a　helicopter　was　overhead；　probably　doing　something　or　other　from　the　nearby　naval　air　station。　In　any　case　it　didn‘t　circle　or　linger。　The　outside　air　was　heavy　and　moist　and　sultry。　Inside　the　bunker　was　even　worse；　and　it　took　an　hour　to　get　the　air　conditioning　up　to　speed。　The　‘house‘　seemed　emptier　than　before；　for　the　second　time　in　a　year；　the　rooms　automatically　larger　without　a　second　person　to　help　occupy　the　space。　Kelly　wandered　about　for　fifteen　minutes　or　so。　His　movements　were　aimless　until　he　found　himself　staring　at　Pam‘s　clothes。　Then　his　brain　clicked　in　to　tell　him　that　he　was　looking　for　someone　no　longer　there。　He　took　the　articles　of　clothing　and　set　them　in　a　neat　pile　on　what　had　once　been　Tish‘s　dresser；　and　might　have　bee　Pam‘s。　Perhaps　the　saddest　thing　of　all　was　that　there　was　so　little　of　it。　The　cutoffs；　the　halter；　a　few　more　intimate　things；　the　flannel　shirt　she‘d　worn　at　night；　her　well…worn　shoes　on　top　of　the　pile。　So　little　to　remember　her　by。
Kelly　sat　on　the　edge　of　his　bed；　staring　at　them。　How　long　had　it　all　lasted？　Three　weeks？　Was　that　all？　It　wasn‘t　a　matter　of　checking　the　days　on　a　calendar；　because　time　wasn‘t　really　measured　in　that　way。　Time　was　something　that　filled　the　empty　spaces　in　your　life；　and　his　three　weeks　with　Раm　had　been　longer　and　deeper　than　all　the　time　since　Tish‘s　death。　But　all　that　was　now　a　long　time　ago。　His　hospital　stay　seemed　like　a　mere　blink　of　an　eye；　but　it　was　as　though　it　had　bee　a　wall　between　that　most　precious　part　of　his　life　and　where　he　was　now。　He　could　walk　up　to　the　wall　and　look　over　it　at　what　had　been；　but　he　could　never　more　reach　out　and　touch　it。　Life　could　be　so　cruel　and　memory　could　be　a　curse；　the　taunting　reminder　of　what　had　been　and　what　might　have　developed　from　it　if　only　he‘d　acted　differently。　Worst　of　all；　the　wall　between　where　he　was　and　where　he　might　have　gone　was　one　of　his　own　construction；　just　as　he　had　moments　earlier　piled　up　Pam‘s　clothes