Green Ice: A Deadly High by Christian Fletcher Page A

money and the crystal is not in here,” he stammered.
    Mancini took a quick glance around the room. A double bed sat in the center of the floor space with a small beside cabinet pushed against the wall alongside each pillow. A table with a glass surface stood in front of a large, wall mounted TV set and a small kitchenette was situated to the left of the apartment. Mancini eyed the drug paraphernalia strewn across the table. The remnants of a bag of white powder was scattered amongst a few small green crystal chips. A smoking pipe lay in a big round glass ashtray beside two half empty glasses and a near empty bottle of tequila.
    “Okay, Jorge. You have exactly ten seconds to tell me where the money and the merchandise are and who or what is making all that damn racket in that room.” Mancini’s words grew louder in volume as he spoke above the banging against the door.
    Jorge breathed heavily and repeatedly glanced between Mancini, Trey and the closed door across the room.
    “All right,” he gasped. “I have a third of the money here in a bag under the bed and a small amount of the crystal is with Ernesto, in the room next door. I haven’t heard from him since yesterday. He also has one third of the cash. Luiz has most of the green ice and the rest of the cash but he is in La Paz.”
    “La Paz?” Mancini repeated, screwing up his face in disbelief. “What the hell is he doing all the way down there?”
    “He is trying to do a deal with the cartel down that way,” Jorge stammered. “He thinks we can make more money this way. That’s why we took off from LA. Mr Oreilles wasn’t going to pay us what we were worth. Luiz said it would be better to go with the cartel but something has gone wrong. This is totally fucked up, you know.” He was on the verge of tears as he spoke.
    “Calm the fuck down,” Mancini said. He t urned to Trey. “Check under the bed for that bag of money but be careful. If there’s any asshole hiding under there, shoot them.”
    Trey gulped and nodded. He strode across the room and crouched down beside the bed, flicking back the cover. A white sports bag lay in the space under the right side of the bed. Trey pulled the carrier out and zipped it open. He showed the contents to Mancini who nodded at the wads of cash inside.
    “Put the bag by the door,” Mancini said.
    Trey complied, keeping a watch on Jorge but also uneasily glancing at the closed door and wondering what the hell was behind it.
    “The girl…she was from one of those bars,” Jorge stammered. “We came back here to party last night and carried on this morning…”
    “I don’t want to hear all the sordid details, Jorge,” Mancini sighed. “Just give me the address of where Luiz went to in La Paz.”
    “I was speaking to him on the phone when you took it off me and threw it away. He says he also has trouble at his end.”
    “What kind of trouble?” Mancini groaned. “Let me guess, the cartel have lifted the gear off him without payment and cut off his nuts for good measure, am I close?”
    “No…no, nothing like that. You see, Luiz changed the recipe from the original batches we made. He said he added some other compound to give the crystal an extra little kick. But it’s all bad. The ice is making people go crazy after they take a hit.”
    “Jorge, I’m going crazy standing here and listening to all this bullshit and having to suffer all that damn noise.” Mancini gestured with his head towards the closed door to his right.
    “Yo, wait up…wait,” Trey butted in. “What do you mean, like sent people crazy, man?”
    “That girl,” Jorge stammered and pointed towards the door. “We did some coke and drank some tequila then I introduced her to the green ice. I had a little sample bag still with me. She tried a small amount and she blacked out. At first, I thought she was just comatose so I took her into the bathroom and showered her off with cold water but she looked like she was dead. So I called Luiz