Metrophage | Page 8

himself.
He was sweating again. Jonny went back to the bar and drank cheap
fishy-tasting Japanese vodka, thinking as he drank, about how vile it
was and how he wished he could afford the good stuff. He put the little
man out of his mind. Jonny wondered if he should call Sumi, but that
seemed like a bad idea. She would ask questions he did not want to
answer. Eventually, his thoughts drifted to Raquin. Jonny wondered
what it was like to burn to death. He remembered that someone had
once told him that you would not feel anything, that the fire would
consume all the oxygen and you would smother before you ever felt the
flames. That seemed like small comfort. How much better was it to
smother than to burn?
Jonny continued drinking straight shots of the fishy vodka until the
taste disappeared altogether. Taking six of the shot-glasses, he
constructed a little pyramid, but Random took the glasses away and
soon Jonny ran out of money. While he was fishing in his pouch for
more dope, there was a slight tug on his arm. Somehow, when he

turned, Jonny knew the little man would be standing there. His shades
were off and he held his hands up as if to ward off a blow.
"Truce, okay? I did not grab you," the little man said. "I just tapped you
on the shoulder."
Jonny nodded. "I could tell you were a quick study. What do you
want?"
The man leaned forward, anxiously. "Look Jonny, I didn't want to tell
you before--I'm working for Mister Conover. He sent me to get you. If
you don't come back with me, my ass is grass."
"Sorry to hear that. Tell Mister Conover I'll get in touch with him as
soon as I'm through with the deal I'm working on now."
"I can't do that. He wants you now," said the little man. Hopefully, he
added, "You know that whatever it is you're working on, Mister
Conover will make it worth your while to drop."
Jonny shook his head.
"No thanks; this is personal."
The little man leaned closer. "You aren't looking for Easy Money, are
you?"
"What if I am?"
"Well, that's great," said the little man. "That's the job--Easy Money
copped something that belongs to Mister Conover. And Mister Conover
wants you to help him get it back."
Jonny nodded, took a piece of ice from someone's empty glass, and
rubbed it across his forehead. "My problem, friend, is that I know
Mister Conover pretty well and I know that he is a professional," Jonny
said. "No offense, but why would he send a hard guy like you to get
me?"

The little man looked around, apparently to make sure that nobody was
eavesdropping. "This really isn't my job," he whispered. Jonny smiled.
"No shit?" he said.
"I'm more of a bookkeeper. It's just that Mister Conover's got all his
muscle guys out looking for Easy Money," he said. The little man
looked at Jonny gravely. "You know how it is."
"Yeah, I know how it is," said Jonny, genuinely amused.
"He told me that you always hang out at Carnaby's Pit," the little man
continued. He made a face as if he had just smelled something foul.
"To tell you the truth, it's a little bit much for me."
Jonny laughed. "Sometimes it's a bit much for me, too," he said.
The little man smiled; for real, this time. "Then you'll come with me?"
he asked.
Jonny shrugged. "That stuff about looking for Easy, you weren't just
being cute again, were you?" "No, all that was true," he said.
"Good."
"Then you'll come?"
"I'm not sure. I hate to beat a point to death, but how do I know you
work for Mister Conover?" "Oh yeah," said the little man brightening.
He reached into his jacket pocket. "Mister Conover said to give you
this."
He handed Jonny a plastic bag containing two gelatinous blue capsules.
The manufacturer's markings were Swiss, the capsules NATO issue,
banded with an orange warning stripe indicating myotoxins. Jonny had
seen the stuff on the Committee. Frosty the Snowman. It was a necrotic,
a synthetic variation on pit viper venom that killed by breaking down
collagen fibers, effectively dissolving skin and muscle tissue. The
NATO variation, he had heard, was constructed with certain "open"

segments along its DNA chain, allowing the toxin to bind with
polypeptides in the victim's collagen and replicate itself there. Rumor
had it that Frosty could break down the skin and muscle tissue of a
seventy kilo man in just under fourteen hours. It was not the kind of
drug that many people would have access to. Jonny stuffed the bag into
his pouch.
"So, I'm convinced," he said.
"Then you'll come?"
"Why not,"