said to me, “Hundred bucks says the body was dumped
from the transfer station.”
“Why?”
“This whole thing…the body pulverized, the bag
attached to a buoy, I mean, who does that? Once this
story breaks, every lowlife in the city will know that Ken
Tsang was mutilated in an ungodly way.”
“Not to mention the garbage connotation. That he’s
nothing but filth.”
“That, too.”
“But if this message is going to dealers, who’s sending it?”
“The same people who killed Hector Guardado. And
most likely your brother, too,” Jack said. “My guess is
Hector might have some more info for us.”
“Hey, Jack, you might have missed the memo, but
Guardado’s dead. Kind of hard for him to be a source
of new info.”
“The man’s got friends. Colleagues. Let’s wait until
the news breaks, and then tomorrow morning we see
which of Hector’s old friends are scared enough to talk.”
4
They could hear whispering from behind the door before
they’d even knocked. The three of them walked down the
hallway, the floor covered in cigarette butts and crack vials.
The two men walked in front, the woman trailing them
behind. She wore a jacket over a tank top, her arms loose
by her side. The man on the left was blond, trim, and
grinned like he’d been looking forward to this. The other
wore a long coat and a scowl, and was in no mood to smile.
The men behind the door had been waiting for their
arrival. The whispering was excited, impatient. So when
the two lead men finally did knock on the door, it opened
barely a moment later.
The bodyguard who opened it was massive. Six foot
six at least, and well over three hundred pounds. There
was perhaps muscle under the flab, but he was no doubt
employed as much for his ability to absorb bullets as for
his ability to fight. The man looked like he could stop a
tank shell in that gut.
“You Mr. Malloy?” the behemoth asked. The woman
looked at the younger of her two accomplices, the blond
man in his early forties. The blond man nodded.
“At your service.”
36
Jason Pinter
The bodyguard stared at his sunglasses. Or more
specifically, what held them up. “Man, what happened
to your ear?”
The blond man ignored the question. “We’re here to
see Mr. Culvert.”
The bodyguard looked at the woman standing behind
Malloy. She had dark skin and luminous green eyes. Her
skin was the color of cinnamon, and she looked a few
years older than the blond man. Her body was toned,
sinewy, her breastbone visible above the curve of her
tank top. The bodyguard let his gaze hover over her an
extra moment, then ushered the three people inside.
The apartment was located inside a largely unoccupied
building in Harlem. The man they were going to see
owned the premises, and other than letting family members stay from time to time, he kept it mainly for business
dealings. And that’s what this meeting was about. Business.
The bodyguard ushered them down a hallway into a
room that was lit only by two weak floor lamps. The
windows were blacked out, and there were no phones or
other electronic devices present. Three couches were
arranged in a semicircle, and sitting on these couches
were four men. Three of them were dressed all in black
trench coats, and were just as big as the guy who opened
the door. Machine guns were strapped to each of their
chests. They made no efforts to hide them.
The one man who was unarmed was dressed in a
simple track suit, and wore enough gold chains to bring
down a hot air balloon. He was thirty-two years old, and
worth nearly twenty million dollars. The woman looked
around the place, slightly disappointed that there was no
evidence of his successful rap career in the building. No
37
platinum albums, no framed magazine covers. For what
she had in mind, those trinkets would have made the
ensuing story that much more vivid.
The chains clinked together as the man twitched involuntarily. He constantly licked at his lips and rubbed
his hands together. His eyes were wide, the whites almost
eerie in the gloom. He smiled broadly when they entered.
“Mr. Culvert,” Malloy said. “Good to see you again.”
LeRoy Culvert stood up. He gripped Malloy’s hand
with both of his and shook them energetically. He looked
warily at the two people Malloy was with. The other man
he viewed with skepticism. The woman he eyed with fear.
“Mr. Culvert,” the woman said. “Let’s talk about
the future.”
“Absolutely,” LeRoy Culvert said, sitting back down.
The four bodyguards watched, guns at the ready. “Here,
take a seat.”
“That’s all right,” she said. “We’d prefer to keep this
short.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am,” Culvert said with a laugh.
The man was stoned out of his mind. That was clear. And
the woman knew exactly what drugs he had taken.
“So?” she said. “You’ve clearly sampled our product.
What do you think?”
LeRoy Culvert leaned back, his head tilted toward the
ceiling. Then he whipped it forward.
“See, normally I’d lie to y’all. I’d tell you your
‘product’ is shit, and that you should feel lucky if I’d sell
it to the poorest crackheads who live in the subway. See,
that way I’d bargain you down, get you to sell it to me at
a discount, and I’d keep the profits for my own.”
“Smart business strategy,” the woman said.
“But I ain’t gonna do that to you. You’re good peo-38
Jason Pinter
ple. Listen, this be the finest product I have ever tried
in my whole life. Fact is, if you hadn’t come on time
today I’d have to get my man Buttercup to track you
down and get some more down here because my stash
is out. ”
“Buttercup?” Malloy said.
The massive, milky-white bodyguard nodded. “That’s
what people call me.”
“Intimidating,” the woman said.
“Listen, lady,” Buttercup said, “I will break your bony
ass over my knee.”
“Hey, my man Cup, there’s no need for that,” Culvert
said. “These people are our friends. They’re going to double
your salary, because I’m gonna be worth twice as much.”
“At least,” the woman said.
“So look, I want in. I’ll start with a million worth of
the rock. I have enough dealers on the streets that we’ll
probably be sold out in a month. Then we’ll re-up, and
go from there. Everybody makes money. You have the
product, I have the distribution. Together, we’ll blanket
the city. Every two-bit street demon with a habit and a
ten-dollar bill will be aching for a taste of this.”
“You do have the streets,” the woman said. “And that
is commendable. Very nineteen eighties. But to be honest,
I’m thinking a little higher than street level.”
“What you mean?” Culvert said. “Higher, where?”
“That’s not important. I’m just glad you enjoyed the
product.”
“Enjoyed?” Culvert said. “Man, I’m gonna buy ten
grand worth just for my own personal enjoyment. What
do you say to that?”
Malloy shrugged. The woman did not move. The other
man stayed quiet. He looked uncomfortable.
The Darkness
39
“Who is this dude?” Culvert said, nodding to the
quiet man.
“This,” the woman replied, “is Detective Sevag Makhoulian of the NYPD. He’s our liaison inside the department. He will keep us apprised of any police awareness
of our operation.”
“Smart bitch, you is,” Culvert said. “So, let’s make a
deal.”
“Sorry,” the woman said. “No deal.”
Culvert looked like he’d been punched in the stomach.
“What do you mean, no deal? You gave me the product
to test, I tested it, and now I want to take it to the streets.
We all make money.”
“We make money,” she said. “You don’t.”
LeRoy Culvert jumped from the couch, his chains
clinking, baggy pants fluttering. “Listen, bitch, I want my
stash. Business or not, I got to have more of that stuff.
Those rocks are life, man.”
“I’m glad you’re satisfied with our product,” she
said, “but that does not change the fact that this transaction is done.”
“Man, fuck y’all,” Culvert said. “You gonna be like
this, I’m gonna have to take over your operation. Buttercup, gut this bitch.”
Buttercup went for the gun in his waistband, but before
his hand ever got there the woman ripped a blade from
inside her coat and ripped it through the soft meat of Buttercup’s throat. The wound yawned open a ghastly red,
and Buttercup made a choking sound as he dropped to the
ground, flailing. Blood poured from the severed veins.
The woman wiped her hand on the couch.
LeRoy Culvert stared at the bloody mess. “What the
hell are you doing?” he said. “We’re partners!”
40
Jason Pinter
“Yes, we are,” the woman said. “You’re going to help us
get the word out about our product. I’m just sorry that your
corpse is going to be the vehicle for delivering the message.”
Suddenly Malloy pulled two machine pistols from his
coat, and in less than two seconds shredded Culvert’s bodyguards in a hail of bullets. Blood and pillow feathers spattered the apartment, which was lit brightly by the gunfire.
When Malloy had stopped firing, he paused and saw
LeRoy Culvert cowering behind one of the couches. He
was muttering sweet Jesus, sweet Jesus over and over
again as he rubbed a gold cross hanging around his neck.
“Jesus won’t save you,” the woman said, walking over
to the cowering man. “But give him my best.”
With one thrust, she buried her knife up to the hilt just
under LeRoy Culvert’s jaw. He tried to open it, instead
aspirating a cloud of blood. When Culvert’s eyes rolled
back in his head, the woman pulled the knife free.
Culvert’s body toppled to the ground.
The woman looked at the bloody knife in her hand.
“Three days,” the woman said to her associates. “Once
Paulina Cole does her job, and the police tie this into it,
we’ll have enough product on the street to saturate the
entire city in less than a week.”
Malloy stood there, staring at the bodies. He made the
sign of the cross. The woman turned to Malloy and put
her arm across his shoulder.
“I know you’re thinking about him,” she said. “But I
promise you, he won’t have died in vain.”
“Thursday,” Malloy said. “I’ve been waiting for this
day for twenty years.”
“Me, too,” she said. “Now come on, we have some new
recruits coming in. I want this room to look like something
out of Stephen King’s nightmares.”
The Darkness
41
The woman took the knife and drew it across the wall,
leaving a bloody smear. Just a few strokes later, the F was
visible. When she completed the rest of the word, and the
apartment was sufficiently coated, they left the building and
waited for Detective Sevag Makhoulian to report the crime.
5
Amanda Davies arrived home at eight o’clock. She
called it home even though it was anything but. The
reality was it was the home of her friend and coworker
Darcy Lapore, and Darcy was campaigning for most altruistic human being on the planet by allowing Amanda
to stay there.
Living here wasn’t what she’d expected after coming
to New York for law school. She figured she’d graduate
from NYU near the top of her class, which she did, then
find a cushy job in some high-profile firm and become
one of those high-powered career women who had brassy
blond hair (hers was auburn, so this would be tricky),
wear smart Hillary Clinton pantsuits, get married at
thirty-six, kids at thirty-nine, realize by fifty that you
never really spent much time with your family, sixty
before you realized you were never really happy in your
marriage and my, didn’t life go by fast?
Instead, she met a guy named Henry Parker who changed
her world. Well, part of it was her own doing, choosing the
not-for-profit sector of legal aid rather than one of those
cushy jobs. She didn’t make the money most New York
lawyers did, but she was pretty sure she slept better at night.
The Darkness
43
It took a few years, but looking back Amanda realized
how much of her life she’d missed. It was as if she’d taken
her expected life and turned it around. Her parents had
died when she was young, and after being shuttled back
and forth for years, she was adopted by a kind couple
named Lawrence and Harriet Stein. The Steins were everything foster parents could be. Except for real parents.
Amanda went through the first twenty years of her life
without knowing a real relationship of any kind, and she
didn’t figure that would get any better.
Then she met Henry in extraordinary circumstances,
literally picking him up on the side of the road, later to
find out he was wanted for murder. Thankfully he was
innocent. That would have been a deal breaker.
They’d leaped into a relationship faster than either of
them knew what they were doing, and for a while it was
good. Really good. Then just as they met under extraordinary circumstances, so were they torn apart. Henry
broke up with her for reasons that he believed were noble,
but devastated them both. And after some tentative patchwork, they’d decided to give it another go. Slowly this
time. They were starting like they should have from the
beginning. Movies. Dinner. Holding hand
s while walking
through Central Park, picnic lunches on the Great Lawn.
She’d moved in with Henry too quickly last time. For
now, Darcy would do, but every night spent in that cold
guest room, with the hard mattress that was meant more
for show than for use, with the artificial orchids everywhere and paint so white that it seemed to have been
bleached of all personality, she couldn’t wait for the day
when she could feel his warmth next to her every night,
where she could lean her head on his chest whenever she
felt like it and listen to the beating of his heart. She craved
44
Jason Pinter
that intimacy, that security. He needed it, too, she knew
it. But if it took a few extra months to build protection
for the rest of their lives, she supposed she could wait.
The alternative would have been unbearable.
When she used her spare key to open the apartment
door, she had to fumble around in the hallway for the light
switch. It wasn’t by the door like it would be in a normal
apartment. The hallway light was part of some intricate
module by the entrance of the atrium that controlled all
the lights in the house. That was one of the things she
loved about Henry’s previous apartments. There were no
modules, and definitely no atrium.
Once she found the panel and turned on every light in
the house before finding the one to her bedroom, she
went inside, stripped out of her work clothes and threw
on a pair of shorts and a tank top. Darcy and her husband,
Devin, were out at their summer home in Oyster Bay.
Every weekend they begged Amanda to come with them,
and every weekend she declined. She hated being the
third wheel, and having to do it four and a half days of
every week (they usually left for Long Island early on
Friday) was enough. And while sitting at the edge of a
beach, dipping her toes into the luscious water of the
Long Island Sound seemed like the perfect antidote to the
stressful Manhattan life, it didn’t mean a thing without
Henry. And he wasn’t the “dip your feet in the water and
laugh like a fool” kind of guy.
He had two modes: work and play. When the switch
was on Work, Henry was as driven and ambitious as
anyone she’d known. When it was on Play, there was
nobody else in the world but the two of them. Everything
faded away when he held her in his arms.
And she loved both sides of him unconditionally.