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“I, uh… he came in. Had a couple guys, you know, like you used to do when you were stalk—looking for Marek. One of ‘em took me to his table and he asked what I knew. Real name, address, family, shit like that. I told him I didn’t really know. Marek kept to himself. I barely knew the guy.”
I tucked the handkerchief away and dipped my hand into another pocket, retrieving the baggie we took off of Brock and holding it up between two fingers. “You share a supplier. You worked alongside each other. And not for the first time—two years ago you both worked at another bar. Cloud 9. Would you like to amend your story?”
His lower lip quivered.
I couldn’t tell if he was in shock or if he was refusing to answer. My guess was the first.
Anton stepped forward and clamped a hand on his shoulder, spurring Jude into motion. The man jerked away so hard that he threw himself to the floor, chair and all.
“I hate when they’re jumpy,” Anton muttered in Russian as he stooped, righting Jude and his chair with an irritated grunt.
“Please don’t kill me,” Jude whispered, squirming in his seat.
“Then tell me what I want to know. And if you lie to me again, I will gut you where you sit. It’s not a fast death, I assure you. You’ll be aware of every agonizing second.”
“Ok, I do know him!” Jude squeezed his eyes shut, cringing. “Knewhim. I really haven’t talked to him since he quit Dalton’s. I’m not lying about that, man! My phone’s right there! Check if you want.” While he babbled, Anton walked over to the counter and swiped the phone in question, pocketing it. “I knew him from Cloud 9, like you said. I’d heard some shit about him being a dealer but I didn’t do any of this until he started working at Dalton’s. Ok? I needed the extra money and he said he could hook me up. That’s all. I don’t know anything about where the Nirvana comes from or who’s running it. None of that shit.
“Marek wasmycontact, ok? He got me started and once I earned enough, I’d pay him back and then be able to buy the shit wholesale. Then I could do whatever I wanted with it, cut it down and make more, recruit new dealers, whatever. I don’t know where to get more and I’m out. I sold the last of my stock last week to a couple of investment-hedge fund-stock-whatever-the-fuck assholes.”
Anton’s gaze bored into me from behind Jude. Ignoring the look, I carried on. “What else did the other man want to know? Think carefully. What specific questions did he ask?”
Jude’s mouth opened and closed a few times like a fish and his eyes darted around, hopefully searching for a memory and not a lie. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I don’t remember specifics. He asked about a girlfriend and I laughed and that pissed him off. He wanted to know what was so funny and I said Marek had plenty of friends who were girls, but never a ‘girlfriend.’ Probably because he was too busy smashing all of the old rich guys who came into Dalton’s.”
My eyes narrowed at the crass slang, even more so at the meaning once I translated what the hell he meant. “Did you actuallysaythe last part out loud to this man?”
Jude nodded before shrinking back warily. “I thought he was interested and that’s why he was asking so many questions.”
I laced my fingers together over the back of the chair before I strangled him. Tapping the pads of my thumbs together, I contemplated the new developments. Marek wasn’tjusta dealer. He was a broker, however minor, which officially moved him up in the twisted Nirvana hierarchy. And now Dimitri had anecdotal evidence Marek was subversive, which meant he’d keep digging in order to undermine anyone associated with me. Sergei preferred hard proof, which bought mesometime to figure out how to handle it, but there was no way to know how much.
“Do you know if he supplied anyone else?” I asked, getting back to the matter at hand.
“I don’t know, man. We didn’t talk shop. This was a temporary thing for me. Turned out to be the worst mistake of my fucking life.” He sobbed out of nowhere, scrunching his eyes shut and slowly sagging forward until the ropes caught, suspending him in place.
“I hate when they cry even more,” Anton grumbled, rolling his eyes skyward.
“Make him stop,” I sighed, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose to try and at least temper the headache that sprang up with the mere mention of Dimitri’s name.
After a faintpew, the apartment fell silent.
I opened my eyes and met Anton’s waiting gaze. “I know.”
“Boss.” He spread his hands, still holding the pistol.
“I know!” I stood quickly and spun the chair on one leg, sliding it back under the kitchen table. “But I’m finally making some progress with Marek. If I confront him with this now, he’s gone and we’ve lost our lead.”
“You’ll lose it anyway when Dimitri puts a bullet in him.” When I sliced an unamused scowl in his direction, he spread his hands again with a look of his own that bordered on exasperation. Shaking his head, he unscrewed the suppressor from the barrel and holstered the separate pieces.
Running a hand along my jaw, I paused and exhaled, closing my eyes for a moment while I screamed internally. I hadnoidea what I was going to do next. Involving Marek would absolutely drive him away but ignoring the information would inevitably delay our progress more than it had, especially knowing he had brokered drugs to other dealers.
Either way, I couldn’t stand around Jude’s apartment all day doing nothing.
Opening the baggie, I shook a couple of the pills out. Such tiny little things and yet they had been the bane of my existence since Nirvana hit the street nine months ago. I let them fall to the floor and crushed them under my heel, grinding them the way I wished I could obliterate Dimitri’s balls. As the pool of blood ebbed closer over the peeling linoleum, I walked away.
“So what are we going to do?” Anton asked.
“Get that to Eduard,” I said, gesturing toward his pocket and the phone inside, “and we’ll go from there. In the meantime, I’m going to make sure Marek doesn’t wind up in Dimitri’s crosshairs.”
“Do you think he knows?”
