He handed her the goggles. She switched them on and took a better look at the little conference.
It was just breaking up. This wasn’t a particularly rough area of town, and all three participants were expensively dressed, though their clothes were casual. A dark-haired man was holding hands with a blond girl who had so many showy labels on the different pieces of clothing she wore that she looked like a NASCAR driver sponsored by midlevel luxury brands. These two were walking off now, their path angling away from the Humvee. The blonde bobbled and swayed a little as she walked. The man with her was stuffing something into the pocket of his hoodie.
The third person stayed in the dark door frame, leaning against it casually like he was expecting more guests soon. His clothing was what she would describe as upmarket frat boy.
She thought about what she’d just been feeling inside the café before she pushed Send—that things couldn’t get much worse. She supposed there were ways this spontaneous idea of hers could go south, but she couldn’t think of any that she wouldn’t be able to handle quietly. And it would be a big help if the frat boy was what she thought he was.
She pulled the goggles off.
“Where’s the cash?” she whispered.
Thirty seconds later, syringe in one hand and roll of fifties in the other, she slid quietly from the Humvee and walked toward the man, who was still relaxed against the wall, like there was no place he’d rather be. She couldn’t see very clearly without the goggles, but she thought she caught his minimal reaction when he realized she was approaching him. His body stiffened just slightly, but he didn’t move.
“Hello,” she said when she was close enough that she could speak quietly and still be sure he could hear.
“Evening,” he responded in a lazy southern drawl.
“I was wondering if you could help me. I’m looking for… a specific product.” Her inflection went up on the end, like it was a question. She didn’t know how to buy drugs off the street. She’d never had to do it before. This was the first time the supply she’d been able to amass during her time in Chicago had run dry. Joey G never minded paying in product.
She expected that the frat boy would accuse her of being a cop, like dealers always did on TV, but he just nodded.
“I might be able to help. What are you looking for?”
It was unlikely he was a cop, unless the sale she’d just watched had been faked to draw a real customer in. If he tried to arrest her, she’d knock him out and escape. A manhunt in Baton Rouge would hardly be her biggest problem, and she knew he couldn’t see her face well—he hadn’t reacted to the damage.
“Opioids—opium or heroin or morphine.”
There was a pause as he peered into the darkness under her hood. She didn’t think he was successful in seeing much.
“Well—that’s an exotic list. Opium? Huh. I have no idea where you could get that around here.”
“Heroin will do just as well. I’d prefer the powdered form, if possible. I don’t suppose it’s likely you’d have anything uncut?” It was all but impossible that he would have pure heroin. Whatever he had would have been modified two or three times before it reached his hands. Not that he would tell her the truth. Purification was a bit of a pain, but she’d make the time.
He laughed once, and she guessed her shopping style was probably not the norm.
“I’ve got some upscale stuff. It’s not cheap, though.”
“You get what you pay for,” Alex said. “I’m not looking for a deal.”
“Two hundred a gram. Pure white powder.”
Sure it is, she thought to herself. But corrupted heroin was better than no heroin. “Three grams, please.”
He paused. Though it was too dark to really read his expression, she could tell what he wanted from the way he cocked his head to the side. She pulled the cash from her pocket and counted out twelve bills. She wondered for a second if he would try to steal the rest from her. But he seemed to be a businessman. He’d want an apparently affluent customer like her to become a regular client.
He took the money she offered, looked it over quickly, then stowed it in the back pocket of his cargo shorts. She tensed when he crouched down, but he was just pulling a backpack out from behind a pile of garbage bags dumped against the wall. He didn’t have to search for what he wanted. He was standing again a second later, holding out three small plastic bags. In the dark she couldn’t be positive about the color, but it looked close to white. She held out her hand and he laid the bags on her palm.
“Thank you,” she said.
“My pleasure, ma’am.” He did a funny little nod, almost a bow.
Alex hurried back to the Humvee, glad that it was hard to make out from this angle. The dealer would see a large, dark-colored vehicle, and not much more than that.
Einstein whined quietly as she climbed into the passenger seat.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Daniel started the engine.