Free Siblings by K. J. Janssen Page A

one to Wil, who hesitated for a moment before he accepted it.
    George handed Wilson one of the cubes and a lighter. “Now that’s better. You’re going to like this shit. It’s the best on the market.”
    An hour later, George was ready to make his pitch to Wilson. “So, how did you like that?”
    Wil had no intention of getting stoned, especially with the Abbott brothers. He smoked the hash, but only pretended to inhale. (Well, maybe he did once or twice to test the quality of the stuff). “Man, this is really good shit. How did you ever get a hold of so much?”
    “We distribute it. Things have changed a lot since you went away. I’ve got new partners now and we only deal in hash. Grass is too bulky to handle and the profit margins are too thin. All that stuff about legalization has clouded the outlook for the stuff. Hashish is the big thing now. So far the law hasn’t messed with hash, so the market opportunities are solid.”
    “Then I bet you can’t wait until grass is legal everywhere.”
    “You got that right. When the capitalists eventually get their hands on it, it will be as common as cigarettes. The mystique will be gone. Human nature being what it is requires that there always be something that’s taboo, something that makes you important if you can supply it. Hash is that new interdict and we’re right there as suppliers providing a top-of-the-line product. I don’t have to tell you that our market is teenagers and the under thirty-five crowd. People in that demographic get their jollies doing stuff that’s forbidden or looked down on. Hash is quickly becoming society’s fashion drug.”
    “So, Wil, the time is now if you want to make some big bucks. I’ve got a sweet little deal going with some high rollers who can supply me with all the hash I can handle without any up-front money. What I need is someone who can handle a large area south of town. Mostly middle class kids going to good schools who like to party on the weekends with the best stuff. You’ve got a young, innocent look, so you would blend right in with that crowd. The average deal is two grand with six hundred going to the seller. Hell, in a good week you could make three or four grand. I see brand new sports wheels in your future.” George hesitated for a minute to let everything sink in. “Does that sound like something that would interest you? You don’t have to make up your mind right now. I’m still at the same number as before, but don’t wait too long. Territories are going fast and its first come, first served.”
    He turned to his younger brother. “I guess it’s time to go, Bobby. Leave the pipe and lighter with our friend. Here’s another cube for you to enjoy while you make up your mind. Oh, one more thing, my territory captains get a ration of three cubes free every week; my way of saying thanks.”
    The Abbott brothers left Wil’s apartment about an hour and a half after they had pushed their way in.
    As they exited, a man stepped out of the shadows and stood by the front door, watching as they got into the Jaguar parked at the curb. As the car pulled away, he headed toward the elevator, hesitated for a minute, then turned and left the building.
     
    ***
     
    Wil grabbed his cell phone and dialed a number.
    “Blaine here.”
    “Mister Blaine, this is Wilson Symington. They were here today and they made me an offer to distribute hash for them. I recorded the conversation on my cell phone.”
    “Good job, Wil. What did you tell them?”
    “I didn’t give George an answer. I didn’t want to look too anxious. I think he assumed I wanted to think it over before I gave him an answer, especially given my history with them.”
    “We’re going to have to get together. Can you meet me at Sweeney’s on Oak Street at noon tomorrow? It shouldn’t be too crowded on a weekend. I’ll have Special Agent Hawkins meet us there. If you get there first, find us a booth in the back.”
    “Sure thing, I’ll see you