Zero Worship: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #6

Chapter 30 - Citric

.././.\\.\//.///\...//>>>>>>>.

The haul is a potpourri of narcotics that could propel a Mongol invasion with enough left over for a blitzkrieg into Poland. It comes in thrice-wrapped bricks, bags, and boxes.

"There's a little something for everyone," Glenn says, looking satisfied. "No one is stupid enough to write 'drugs' on the outside, but I recognize the symbols. That one's cocaine. That one's benzos. Got some MDMA and 'shrooms for the kids, too. I wouldn't be surprised if they figured out how to get dried khat over here—that'd be a new one. There's brown heroin in that one and that one. White and black, too."

Which one is heroin? The one over there?

"Are you sure?" Zandra says. She hunches over to rub her ankle.

"Oh, so you're one of those people, huh?" Glenn says.

"One of what people?" Zandra says.

"It's OK. I don't give a shit one way or the other," Glenn says. He picks up a package and drops it next to Zandra's nose. "This can be part of your guys's half then."

Zandra breathes in deep, the package a few inches from her face as she rubs her ankle. The package is wrapped too thick for there to be a scent available to anyone other than a drug dog, but logic escapes Zandra for the moment. She feels like her eyes could roll back like a shark the second before delivering the coup de grâce.

"Man, I wish Ray was here right now to see this," Chad says as he sorts through the haul.

Bexley joins him. "I don't."

"Come on, he's not so bad."

"He tried to kill you," Bexley says.

"Yeah, but he would, like, appreciate this. Like how some artists are assholes, but they're the only ones who can appreciate art," Chad says.

They come to an agreement on the 50-50 split. Glenn sticks a thumb toward to the boat and says, "What do you want me to do with that thing?"

Zandra snaps back to attention. "Drive it to somewhere else on the river and sink it. It's got fingerprints and evidence all over it."

"Got it. I'll pull the drain plug this time, though," Glenn says with a chuckle. He loads up the boat with gear and his half of the haul. Before he floats off downstream, he turns toward Zandra and waves. Zandra doesn't wave back. Chad does, though. With both hands.

Like a child on Christmas morning.

The three of them form a circle around the pile at their feet. Zandra makes sure one toe is touching her package of choice.

"How much do you think is here?" Zandra says, looking down at her feet.

"Enough to keep everyone in Stevens Point high for, like, ever," Chad says and cups his hands at his chest with glee.

Zandra, still looking down, rephrases the question. "How much money?"

Bexley does some quick math. "I mean, we'd have to open everything up and figure out the purities and the weights and all that. But just eyeballing it here, millions. Maybe more. Maybe less."

"So we split it up and we're left with less than a million?" Zandra says.

"No," Bexley says. "Millions each."

Zandra hacks into her sleeve.

Holy shit.

Chad shakes open a contractor bag. "Oh, man, Bex, we gotta celebrate tonight. I know a place we can party."