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The odd thing? I wasn't even all that mad. I was sad, true enough, but not really angry. I loved my woman and the disappointment at her doing me like she was, was killing my heart, hence, my sadness.I more or less surreptitiously surveyed my environs from my barstool. Mostly guys hanging out after a day at the plant. A couple of women were yakking with the bartender at the other end. There was a toy manufacturer nearby and I could tell from the logos on the work shirts of a dozen guys, half of them over by the pool table, that they worked there. I headed over to join the shooters. I put a couple of quarters under the overhang of the table's rails, nodding to the players, and waited for somebody to tell me it was my ups. I went back to the bar.It was about twenty minutes later that I was called. The game was straight pool, my favorite, and it was call shot. I won the first game, but lost in game two. I hung around gabbing with the shooters for the next little while.Everybody had a. Putting them together was someone else's problem.I drove the truck about an hour and pulled into a highway parking lot. It was on a busier road than we usually used for a dead drop. I opened the heavy metal door with the key I had recovered from under a roadside trash can about half a mile down the road. It was a typical security precaution for a dead drop.When I opened the door I was more than a little surprised. The load was not Witch's Brew. It was briefcase probably filled with hard drugs. At least that's what I assumed was in the case. I was in a bit of a quandary. I could open them to test, or I could ask, but the cops were surely going to ask me. So the best I could do was try to identify the delivery sites to the bosses. So that they could identify the pick up people. It might be possible from that to identify what I had.I sent the txt message with the delivery locations forward to the team working surveillance. They should arrange for some kind of response to the pickup..
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