“I can. But it’s going to be expensive.”
“I’ll have the money.”
That evening, Vic went to see an old friend named Mike, who’d done time with him back in the eighties. Mike had retired and ran a small watch repair shop. But he remembered his old friends.
“Vic!” Mike hugged him at the door. “Heard you were out. Come in.”
They sat in the kitchen. Mike poured some strong coffee.
“What do you need?”
“I need a loan. I’ll pay you back in a month.”
Mike didn’t ask questions. He went to a floor safe and counted out the cash.
“Here. Don’t worry about the rush. I’m glad to help.”
“Thanks, brother.”
On May 12th, Vic met Charlie. He received a tightly wrapped package. Inside was a white powder.
Enough to put someone away for a long, long time. Now he needed the opening. Vic knew the schedule.
Ryan rented an apartment on Main Street. That’s where he took his girls. That’s where he kept his stash for parties.
Nothing major by his father’s standards. But if he was found with this much… On May 15th, Vic followed Ryan.
He arrived at the apartment at 8:00 PM. Black Mustang, music thumping. He had a girl with him.
They went up to the fourth floor. Vic waited an hour, then followed. The door was flimsy, the lock was cheap.
Vic picked it in under a minute. He stepped inside. Music was blaring from the living room.
Ryan and the girl were on the sofa, completely out of it. They didn’t notice a thing. Vic went to the kitchen.
He found Ryan’s gym bag. Inside were his usual small-time pills, a digital scale, and some cash. Vic pulled out his package.
He tucked it into the bottom of the bag. He zipped it shut. He left as quietly as he’d entered.
Down on the street, he used a payphone to call the local precinct. He disguised his voice, making it raspy and panicked.
“Hello, police? There’s a major drug deal going down at 7th and Main, Apt 4B. Right now. I just saw it. There’s a black Mustang out front.”
He gave them the plate number and hung up. Twenty minutes later, two cruisers and an unmarked car arrived.
They went up to the fourth floor and kicked the door in. Ryan was tackled before he could even stand up. They searched the place.
They found the bag. They opened it. A massive quantity of narcotics.
Distribution weight. Scales. Cash.
Everything pointed to a major operation. Ryan was hauled off to the station. Captain Brooks arrived an hour later, his face purple with rage.
He tried to shut it down. He screamed at the officers, threatened them. Но the amount was too large.
The District Attorney’s office got involved, and a state investigator was called in. The pressure from above was too much. It was too big to bury.
Ryan was sent to the county jail. Captain Brooks spent every waking hour trying to find a high-priced lawyer. But the evidence was ironclad.
Ryan’s fingerprints were on the package, the scales were there, and the girl, terrified, confessed to everything. A month later, the trial was over.
Sentence: eight years in a maximum-security prison. Distribution in a school zone. Vic was in the courtroom.
He sat in the back, watching. Ryan saw him. Something clicked in the boy’s head.
Recognition, panic. He started screaming, pointing his finger:
