The Steel Kiss (Lincoln Rhyme 12)

"No brown. No C. Nothing like that." Pulaski shook his head, looking around again for threats from anyone. Male or female. Girls were dangerous too.

Pulaski also scanned for uniforms and plainclothes and unmarked Dodges. He sure didn't want to run into any compatriots.

But the streets were clear.

He said in a low voice, "There's some new shit I heard about. It's not Oxy but it's like Oxy."

"I ain't hear about that, brother. I hook you up with weed, with C, with speed, methballs." Alpho was relaxing. This wasn't the way undercover busts worked.

Pulaski pointed to his forehead. "I got this thing happened to me. Crap beat out of me, a couple years ago. I started getting these headaches again. They came back. I mean, big time. They're crap, totally. You get headaches?"

"Ciroc, Smirny." Alpho smiled.

Pulaski didn't. He whispered, "These are so bad. I can't do my job right. Can't concentrate."

"What you do?"

"Construction. Crew in the city. Ironwork."

"Man, those skyscrapers? How you fuckers do that? Climb up there? Fuck."

"Almost fell a couple times."

"Shit. Oxy fuck you up too."

"No, no, this new stuff's different. Just takes the pain away, doesn't mess with your mind, doesn't make you woozy, you know?"

"Woozy?" Alpho had no clue. "Why you ain't get a prescription?"

"This stuff they don't write paper for. It's new, underground labs. Heard you could get it here, in BK. East New York, mostly. Guy named Oden? Something. He makes it himself or runs it in from Canada or Mexico. You know him?"

"Oden? No. Ain't hear of him. What's this new shit called?"

"Heard a name. Catch."

"It's called Catch?"

"What I'm saying."

Alpho seemed to like the name. "Like it grabs you, you know, catches you, it's so strong."

"Fuck. I don't know. Anyway, I want some. Bad, man. I need it. Gotta get these headaches under control."

"Well, I ain't got none. Never hear of it. But hook you up a dozen. Regular, I mean. One bill."

Little lower than the general street price. Oxy went for about ten bucks per. Alpho was grooming for future sales.

"Yeah, okay."

The exchange happened fast. As they always should. The plastic bag of OxyContin swapped for a handful of twenties. Then the dealer blinked as he looked at the wad Pulaski had slipped him. "Brother, I telling you: one bill. That five right there."

"Tip."

"Tip?"

"Like a tip at a restaurant."

Confused.