The King of Swords (max mingus) by Nick Stone Read Free Book Online Page B

every three kilos seized, one would make the papers and two would make it back on the street.
    'Ain't no cure for that kinda evil thing,' Drake continued. 'Ain't no jail bad enough, ain't no religion good enough, ain't no shrink shrunk enough to undo that. Only a bullet can cure that.'
    Drake was getting worked up, like he always did whenever Max asked him about child abusers and child killers. He hated their kind with such intensity that Max often wondered if he hadn't himself been molested when he was a boy, but it wasn't the kind of thing you ever asked a street-forged hoodlum like Drake-not that he'd ever tell anyway, because it'd make him look how he couldn't afford to be seen: weak, a victim, a sissy. If he got a rep like that it'd be bad for business. He'd have armies of rivals on his tail, and there'd be nothing Max could do to save him.
    'I hear you,' Max said, barely moving his lips, 'but you know how it is. It's the law.'
    'Then the law's all fucked up. Shit needs changin'. You get mo' time for peddlin' reefer than you do rapin' some lil' girl.'
    'I hear that too.'
    'Yeah?' Drake leant back a little so his mouth was closer to Max's ear. 'You hear so good, why you still a cop?'
    'Same reason I had when I joined: I thought-and still do think-I can make a difference. Even if it's a small one no one notices. Somewhere, to someone, what I do counts. For better or worse depends on the someone. And that's why I'm still here, meetin' you for breakfast,' Max answered.
    'You believe in Santa Claus too?' Drake chuckled and Max could almost hear him flashing his smile, that same sardonic, knowing, each-day-as-it-comes-and-fuck-tomorrow nonchalant expression that had landed him more pussy than he could handle and a bullet in the leg from a husband he'd cuckolded.
    Max shook his head and grunted negatively. The mention of Christmas saddened him. He'd driven to Key West with his girlfriend Renee on Christmas Eve, for a make-up or break-up vacation. They'd broken up before they got there, midway down the Seven Mile Bridge. An argument about the faulty passenger window had escalated into one about the faults in their relationship. They'd both said things they shouldn't have, but meant anyway. She'd got out at Mallory Square with her bags and tears streaming down her face, and boarded the bus back to Miami. Max had returned home, where he'd drunk until he'd passed out. The next day he'd called Joe, who'd come over with a crate of beer, a bottle of bourbon and a bag of reefer. They'd sat on the beach and got palooka'd. Max had spent the rest of his vacation that way, and was still finding his way out of that zone, slowly.
    The radio was on low and playing Beatles songs back to back, non-stop, still mourning John Lennon, shot dead in New York the previous December. You couldn't escape the programmed grief on the airwaves right after it had happened. Even black stations had played soul, funk and disco versions of Beatles tunes, and whenever Max had turned to talk radio for relief, all he'd heard were people arguing away about the murder and what it all meant and how it was probably a CIA-organized hit. It had driven him nuts. Some psycho misfit with a gun and a grudge plugged innocent family men on the street all the time in Miami and barely anyone noticed or even cared. Even Reagan getting shot just last month hadn't quelled Beatlemournia.
    The waitress came over with the coffee pot. Max hadn't touched his. His stomach was burning again-booze-binge acid-and his medicine cabinet at home was fresh out of Pepto-Bismol.
    'You no like cafe?' she asked him. Her name tag said Corrina and she was cute as hell-bright brown eyes, almond-shaped face, tan skin, flawless complexion, beestung lips. She could have passed for twenty-one, but Max suspected she was much younger.
    'I forgot to drink it.' Max smiled.
    'You want new cup?'
    'Sure,' Max said.
    She was about to turn and head back when Drake reached out and stopped her with a quick but gentle