Flashback

You’re too cool nonetheless, Nick’s cop brain warned him. Odds are good that there are still people out here waiting to kill you.

It couldn’t be helped. Nick didn’t have permission to take Delroy Nigger Brown out of Coors Field—that would require a court order and two hearings with Delroy’s public defender present, probably three months’ time, only to have the request denied—and he needed information now.

About where the grass of centerfield would have begun, Nick kicked the drug dealer’s legs out from under him. Delroy fell to his knees. Nick set the muzzle against the little man’s forehead. He could see lice moving in what was left of Delroy’s thinning hair.

“I won’t ask any question twice,” barked Nick.

“Nossir. Yessir. Oh shit and fuck. But nossir,” quavered Delroy.

“What did Keigo Nakamura ask you about when he interviewed you six years ago and what did you tell him?”

“What?” shouted the kneeling man. “Who? When?”

“You heard me,” said Nick, digging the small muzzle deep enough into Delroy’s temple that it broke the skin.

“Oh, the Jap? That Jap with the camera and the, you know what I’m sayin’, sexy snatch assistant? That motherfuckin’ Jap?”

“That motherfuckin’ Jap.”

“Whattya want? I mean, you know what I mean…”

“What did he ask you?” repeated Nick, pressing the muzzle tighter. Blood began to flow. “What did you tell him?”

“The motherfuckin’ Jap wanted to know where I got the, you know, the motherfuckin’ flashback that I, you know what I’m tellin’ you, sold,” whined Delroy.

“What’d you tell him?”

“You know, man—told him the motherfuckin’ truth. No reason not to, know what I’m sayin’?”

Nick dug the muzzle deeper. “Tell me the truth or there’ll be two men named Nigger in this yard minus their brains. I swear to God, Delroy.”

“I’m tellin’, I’m tellin’, I’m motherfuckin’ tellin’,” screamed Delroy, raising his shaking hands but keeping them away from the pistol. “What was, like, you know, the question?”

“Where’d you get the flashback?”

“Where I got all my good drugs then, man. This be six motherfuckin’ years ago. Got all my good shit, ’cludin’ the flashback, from Don Khozh-Ahmed Noukhaev at his big motherfuckin’ hacienda down in Santa Fe. He’s the, you know what I’m sayin’, head of the Bratva fucking Russian motherfuckin’ mafia down there.”

Damn, thought Nick. All roads always lead to Santa Fe. He’d have to go through with the trip Sato had planned for tomorrow.

“What else did you tell Keigo Nakamura during that interview?”

“Just about the motherfuckin’ flashback, man. He wasn’t even interested in the heroin or coke or nothin’, you know what I’m sayin’? Just wanted to know all about the flash—how I get it from fuckin’ Don Khozh-Ahmed Noukhaev, how we drive it back with the motherfuckin’ pass to get past the motherfuckin’ reconquistas, that sort of shit.”

“What else?” demanded Nick, moving the pistol’s muzzle to Delroy’s soft eye socket.

The dealer squealed. “Nothing else. Jap didn’t wanna talk about anything else. Look at the motherfuckin’ videos if you don’t believe me.”

“Why’d you leave the party with Danny Oz the night Keigo was killed?”

“What? With who?”

“You heard me.”

“You mean that Jew-boy over to Six Flags?”

“Yeah.”

“Why do you think I left with him, man? Somebody just got his ass murdered at that party, you know what I’m tellin’ you? Time to go, Joe. We had to get out of there and whatshisname, the Jew, the wizard of Oz or what the fuck, wanted some product. We went to my house up on the motherfuckin’ hill. I didn’t bring no vials to the party.”

“Which product, Delroy?”

“Flashback. That Jew never bought nothing else.”

Nick held out his phone with Dara’s photo filling the screen. “Look at this picture…”

“Nice white snatch…,” began Delroy.

Nick dug the muzzle of the .22 target pistol deep enough behind the dealer’s left eye that he could have popped the eyeball out with a twist of his wrist. Delroy screamed. Nick let up some of the pressure. The barrel and muzzle were wet with blood trickling down from Delroy’s forehead.

“What the fuck, man? You want me to look without no motherfuckin’ eye?”

“Where have you seen her before? And when? Be specific or you’ll lose more than an eye, I swear to God.”

Delroy waved his right hand in a placating way and leaned closer to the screen, squinting. “I ain’t never seen her, man. Nowhere. No time.”

“Look again.”

“I don’t have to fuckin’ look again. I don’t know her, never sold to her, never paid her for nothin’, never fuckin’ seen her, you hear what I’m tellin’ you?”

Nick slipped the phone away. “I hear what you’re telling me.” He hit the little man just hard enough with the barrel to drop him to the dirt.