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Traven nods.
“You’ll understand why the church was so angry with me. They have an unswerving policy that there is no God but their God. There never was D;
“You translated the Angra Om Ya’s bible. No wonder God doesn’t want you whacking his piñata anymore.”
“Certainly the Church doesn’t.”
“It isn’t all bad, Father. I own a video store. Come around sometime. The damned get a discount.”
He gives us one of his exhausted smiles.
“That’s very kind of you. Since leaving the Church, I’ve come to believe that it’s the little, fleeting pleasures like watching videos that mean the most in this life.”
“Amen to that.”
WHEN WE’RE BACK in the car I call the Sentenzas. K.W. answers.
“K.W., it’s Stark. Did Hunter ever tell you where he got his drugs? Maybe give you a name?”
A slight pause.
“It was a girl. Not a girlfriend exactly, but someone he spent time with. Hang on a minute.”
Over the phone comes the sound of things being moved. Furniture scrapes. K.W. curses. Then he’s back on the phone.
“I knew he’d written it down somewhere. Her name is Carolyn. Carolyn McCoy.”
“Is there an address?”
He reads it to me.
“Okay. Thanks. We’ll be in touch.”
I call up the phone’s map app and punch in the address. It’s off the Golden State Freeway in Sun Valley.
Vidocq is in the backseat. I turn to look at him.
“How did you hear about Akira? Did you ever try it?”
He shakes his head.
“No. What Hunter’s father said at the house was wrong. Akira is nothing new. Like all drugs, it goes in and out of favor. I haven’t heard it mentioned for perhaps two years. It sounds as if it’s coming back. I’m a bit surprised.”
“Why?”
“It’s not an easy thino man easyg to fashion. The chemistry must be precise. Even a small mistake and you will not have synthesized Akira, but a very potent neurotoxine. Also, many of the elements are not readily available. Some of the plants and herbs required can only be cultivated in native soil. A mountaintop in China. A rain forest in Brazil. You must find a reliable source of the pure ingredients even to attempt to formulate Akira.”
“How is it you know so much about it?”
“I was once asked to manufacture it. I was offered quite a large sum of money, in fact. I refused, but they asked again. Each time they asked, the amount of money increased, but I still refused.” He turns and looks out the window. “Finally I said yes. Not because I wanted the money, but because I’m a coward, and when they grew insistent, I was afraid to keep saying no.”>The angel in my head has been chattering ever since we got here. n="e got hHe wants to get out of my skull and run around. This place is Disneyland to him. I’m about to slap a gag on him when he points out something that I hadn’t noticed. I scan the walls to make sure he’s right. He is. Among all the books and ancient gods there isn’t a single crucifix. Not even prayer beads. The father lapsed a long time ago or he really holds a grudge.
“Would you like some coffee or hot chocolate? I’m afraid that’s all I have. I don’t get many guests.”
“No thank you,” says Vidocq, still poking at Traven’s bookshelves.
“I’m fine, Father,” says Candy.
He didn’t mention scotch, but I get a faint whiff of it when he talks. Not enough for a normal person to notice. Guess we all need something to take the edge off when we’re booted from the only life we’ve ever known.
