Read Online We All Fall Down by Michael Harvey - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Harvey
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city?”
“I told you. I’m not sure.”
“Maybe you don’t know all the names. But you got at least one.”
“I might have a middleman.”
“Let’s have it.”
It took fifteen minutes of driving, but I got the name. I even got an address.
CHAPTER 15
Marcus Robinson sat on a flat roof across the street from the Korean’s grocery store, sighted a nickel-plated .38 on the front door, and pretended to squeeze off a few rounds. He’d talked to Ray Ray for almost an hour. Told him everything the cop had to say. How he said it. Then told him again. Ray Ray took it all in, put an arm around Marcus, and explained that the Fours needed to take care of some business with the Korean that night. Marcus grinned, which made Ray Ray happy. Then Marcus got the gun from under his mattress and headed to the Korean’s shop. Ray Ray had business to take care of. So did Marcus.
Down below a cop car pulled into the alley alongside the grocery store. The first cop got out and walked the area. The afternoon sun glinted off the front of his hat. He nodded to the second, who popped the trunk and pulled out a black duffel bag with gold trim. The Korean’s dope. Soon to be Ray Ray’s.
The first cop banged on a door, and then the Korean was in the alley. He wore what he always wore: dark pants and a blue sweater with mismatched brown and yellow buttons down the front. He had a pair of glasses halfway down his nose and the stub of a cigarette flattened between his lips. One of the cops spoke to the Korean, who nodded. The other hefted the bag up onto his shoulder and carried it into the store. Four minutes later, the cops were back in their cruiser and gone.
Marcus climbed down the fire escape and sat with his back against the building. He pulled seven bullets out of his pocket, loaded four into the revolver, and clicked the chamber shut. He’d only had the gun a week when he and Twist found the dead doper, curled at the edges and lying in the basement of a rock house. Twist didn’t want anything to do with it. But Marcus did. Target practice. He put two bullets in the doper’s chest, and one in the temple. There wasn’t much blood, and Marcus didn’t feel anything inside. Except maybe he’d wasted three bullets. Still, word got around a little. And Marcus knew shooting someone was something he could do.
He walked to the corner of the building and took a look. The mouth of the alley was empty. At the very back was a truck with SILVER LINE TRUCKING printed on the side. Marcus leaned against the wall and felt the dull pain tapping away inside his head. He didn’t know why it was there. Just that it was.
Marcus stuck the gun in his pocket, crossed the street, and banged on the back door. “Hey.”
Marcus could hear the Korean in the cellar, light steps on the stairs, and then he was opening the door.
“Marcus. Where you been? Good boy.”
The Korean’s name was Mr. Lee. None of the chain stores would open up in the neighborhood, so Lee sold them everything from cereal to socks. Charged for it, too. But that wasn’t the Korean’s major source of revenue. For that, you needed to head to his cellar.
“You want money?” Lee rubbed a thick thumb and index finger together.
Marcus shrugged. Who didn’t want money?
“Good boy. Come.” Lee led him to the back of the store and sat him on a stool. The Korean rolled up his pants leg and pulled a fold of twenties from his sock. “Two hundred dollar. For you. Take it. Quick.”
Lee nudged the money toward the boy. Marcus let it sit.
“Why you not take?”
“Why you pushing?”
Lee moved the money again. This time with his eyes.
“That for the last order?” Marcus said.
The Korean nodded. The last order had come in the day before yesterday. Flat boxes. Lots of them. Lots more than they usually handled. Marcus didn’t know what was inside the boxes. Just that it was worth some cash. He slipped the money off the counter and into his pocket. Lee smiled and seemed to
“I told you. I’m not sure.”
“Maybe you don’t know all the names. But you got at least one.”
“I might have a middleman.”
“Let’s have it.”
It took fifteen minutes of driving, but I got the name. I even got an address.
CHAPTER 15
Marcus Robinson sat on a flat roof across the street from the Korean’s grocery store, sighted a nickel-plated .38 on the front door, and pretended to squeeze off a few rounds. He’d talked to Ray Ray for almost an hour. Told him everything the cop had to say. How he said it. Then told him again. Ray Ray took it all in, put an arm around Marcus, and explained that the Fours needed to take care of some business with the Korean that night. Marcus grinned, which made Ray Ray happy. Then Marcus got the gun from under his mattress and headed to the Korean’s shop. Ray Ray had business to take care of. So did Marcus.
Down below a cop car pulled into the alley alongside the grocery store. The first cop got out and walked the area. The afternoon sun glinted off the front of his hat. He nodded to the second, who popped the trunk and pulled out a black duffel bag with gold trim. The Korean’s dope. Soon to be Ray Ray’s.
The first cop banged on a door, and then the Korean was in the alley. He wore what he always wore: dark pants and a blue sweater with mismatched brown and yellow buttons down the front. He had a pair of glasses halfway down his nose and the stub of a cigarette flattened between his lips. One of the cops spoke to the Korean, who nodded. The other hefted the bag up onto his shoulder and carried it into the store. Four minutes later, the cops were back in their cruiser and gone.
Marcus climbed down the fire escape and sat with his back against the building. He pulled seven bullets out of his pocket, loaded four into the revolver, and clicked the chamber shut. He’d only had the gun a week when he and Twist found the dead doper, curled at the edges and lying in the basement of a rock house. Twist didn’t want anything to do with it. But Marcus did. Target practice. He put two bullets in the doper’s chest, and one in the temple. There wasn’t much blood, and Marcus didn’t feel anything inside. Except maybe he’d wasted three bullets. Still, word got around a little. And Marcus knew shooting someone was something he could do.
He walked to the corner of the building and took a look. The mouth of the alley was empty. At the very back was a truck with SILVER LINE TRUCKING printed on the side. Marcus leaned against the wall and felt the dull pain tapping away inside his head. He didn’t know why it was there. Just that it was.
Marcus stuck the gun in his pocket, crossed the street, and banged on the back door. “Hey.”
Marcus could hear the Korean in the cellar, light steps on the stairs, and then he was opening the door.
“Marcus. Where you been? Good boy.”
The Korean’s name was Mr. Lee. None of the chain stores would open up in the neighborhood, so Lee sold them everything from cereal to socks. Charged for it, too. But that wasn’t the Korean’s major source of revenue. For that, you needed to head to his cellar.
“You want money?” Lee rubbed a thick thumb and index finger together.
Marcus shrugged. Who didn’t want money?
“Good boy. Come.” Lee led him to the back of the store and sat him on a stool. The Korean rolled up his pants leg and pulled a fold of twenties from his sock. “Two hundred dollar. For you. Take it. Quick.”
Lee nudged the money toward the boy. Marcus let it sit.
“Why you not take?”
“Why you pushing?”
Lee moved the money again. This time with his eyes.
“That for the last order?” Marcus said.
The Korean nodded. The last order had come in the day before yesterday. Flat boxes. Lots of them. Lots more than they usually handled. Marcus didn’t know what was inside the boxes. Just that it was worth some cash. He slipped the money off the counter and into his pocket. Lee smiled and seemed to
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