want, Andrew?â
âOh, itâs not what I want. Iâm calling about something you might want.â
âWhatâs that?â
âDylan.â
Andrew noted a brief hesitation before Krunk answered. âWhat about him?â
âIt seems Dylan and his buddy, whatever his name is, ran into a bit of trouble this morning. Think they might be . . . ah, what should I say? . . . a little scarce. They were working for you, I believe.â
âAnd what makes you say that?â Krunk asked.
Andrew felt his smile falter a bit. Heâd expected an expletiveladen reaction from Krunk, not a quick game of Twenty Questions.
âPlease,â he said, recovering. âA magician tells you how he does the trick, it kills all the magic.â
âNot interested.â
âReally?â
âReally. Dylanâs not going anywhere. He knows better than to double back on me.â
âWell,â Andrew said, leaning back in his chair. âYour faith in Dylan is admirable.â
âGood-bye, Andrew.â
Andrew sat for a moment, listening to the connection drop after Krunk hung up.
Well. Heâd miscalculated. Obviously, Krunk didnât value the information heâd been given. Bad move on Krunkâs part.
Andrew scratched absently at his face for a few moments. Dylan was claiming heâd run into a bit of trouble. Obviously, a deal gone bad. Nature of the business; it happened sometimes. People decided they wanted to go into business on their own.
If Dylan and his buddy had walked awayâeven though his buddy had a gunshot woundâthat meant whoever theyâd met had not walked away. Dylan Runs Ahead, getting all entrepreneurial, decided to take the cash and drugs and disappear with them. Krunk didnât want to believe that, well, that was Krunkâs own downfall. Heâd always felt Krunk was a little too soft anyway. Someday that softness would kill him.
Well. His information was still just as valuable. Maybe even more valuable, whispered into other ears. Neither Dylan nor Krunk knew just how deep Andrewâs network of information ran; no one really knew. For instance, though he didnât know the specifics of this morningâs dropâother than the scattered bits Dylan had sharedâhe had a very good idea who had been on the other side.
Fine. He might be a red-skinned Indian, but he was also a red-blooded American. Heâd given Krunk first crack, but he was an equal-opportunity broker. Time to make a call north of the border, see if the Canadians wanted to pay to play.
He punched in his call code again, dialed a new number from his memory. This time a rough, cracking voice answered.
âPrince Edward,â Andrew said through a smile.
Everyone in the trade called him Prince Edward, because heâd originally grown up on Prince Edward Island before relocating to British Columbia. Few people knew Prince Edwardâs real name, Andrew himself being one of those few.
âWhatâs on your mind, Andrew?â
âWell, Iâve just seen a Very Bad Thing, and I feel a need to make a confession. Iâm Catholic, you know. Most of us Indians are.â
âWhat sort of confession?â
âI must confess I heard that you had a delivery that was supposed to go south this morning. Trouble is, it really went south.â
âI ship a lot of merchandise, Andrew. You know that.â
âYeah, well, this merchandise was scheduled for delivery over Port of Turner way. Letâs just say your delivery service didnât absolutely, positively get the packages there. Shoulda used FedEx.â
The line was quiet for a few seconds. âLet me call you back.â
âSure, sure. Iâm not on my mobile right now, though. Let me give you the number.â He read the number off the faceplate of the phone, and Prince Edward hung up.
He considered another cigarette, then decided against it. Especially not out here in