“Ruby,” an unconnected voice called. She collected her coffee from the counter, but had a momentary lapse about where she’d parked her car. She needed that coffee. She looked in both directions and saw her white Mazda waiting for her. The car gave her a wink when she pressed her remote. As soon as she was seated, she locked all doors. Good timing, because the crazy man walked past and turned and looked at her. It almost looked like some kind of acknowledgment, but thankfully he moved on. Ruby’s heart pounded hard in her chest.
Zoe had told her they were missing her at work. It had only been two days, but she was going there now. She needed to get stuck into something, to distract herself from the crazy world that had opened up to her. It was time to draw the curtain for this act and start a new one.
She placed her prescription on the passenger seat, reversed out of the carpark, and turned on to the main thoroughfare.
“Music.” The car heard her and obliged.
She looked at the prescription on the seat.
Maybe I’ll need those.
<°)))><
The clinic was quiet now. The receptionists had gone home. One of the doctors was still seeing a patient, so Jill had to wait in case her services were needed. Her title was Clinical Medical Assistant and her job involved providing assistance to the doctors where required. Because of her nursing training, she took vital signs, drew blood, administered medication. She also helped out with administrative tasks. She called on this knowledge of administration to find the details of two individuals: the redhead and the drugged clown.
Ruby Fischer lived in an apartment block not far from the clinic. The details for the crazy man weren’t as clear but there was a phone number. His name was Bret Oram.
Bret Oram was definitely someone sent by the gods. The man should not even be walking the streets—a common occurrence these days. Many people were screaming for a review of police bail procedures.
After dinner, Jill made the call on a prepaid phone.
“Uh . . . hello.”
“Is that Bret?”
“No it’s the President of the United States. How did you get this number?”
“Oh, sorry. Must be the wrong number.”
There was a pause. “No hold it. It’s Bret here. Who am I speaking to?”
“A friend.” She heard him sniffing.
“Have lots of those.”
Jill doubted that. “You still on the drugs?”
“None of your business.” Still more sniffing.
“Well, if you are, I have some for you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. And they won’t cost you an arm and a leg.”
“Really?”
“Just need you to deliver something for me.”
“Really?”
If he says ‘really’ one more time!
“Deliver what?” The sniffing was back.
“Just an envelope. I’ll pay you before delivery and after. It can either be money or drugs. The choice is yours.”
“What about both: money and drugs?”
“Possibly.”
“Okay. Let’s meet.”
“No meeting. I’ll place an envelope at an agreed location. It will have the instructions and one gram of pure meth inside.”
“One gram.” He whistled. “And on delivery.”
“I will instruct the receipt to provide you with another gram and $1000 in cash.”
Another whistle. “Do I know you?
“No, and that’s the way I want it to remain.”
“Why can’t you deliver it?”
“There are people looking for me. The place may be staked out. They won’t be expecting you.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
