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Songs of Bliss


The girl in the cell watches the two men intently, not at all sure what is going to
happen next. Will they stand their ground, will the doctor win through sheer bloody- minded
goading, or will he be nursing a flat nose and broken ribs? What about her own immediate
future? Shit.
Doctor Jasari stares at the plastic boxes on the table. The impact of Davie's leg
carries sufficient force to make the boxes slide forward with enough lateral thrust to tip
them over the edge of the table and onto the floor. The carefully segregated sachets, the
good and the bad mixtures, scatter across the floor boards. The Doctor lets out a howl of
anger and pounces on the debris, desperately trying to identify the different batches of
powder.
"Fucking ape!" he hisses.
Davie's momentum carries him around the table and he grabs the doctor's collar,
yanking the man?s head back. "Serves you right, prick. Shut up and put the shit back in the
box. Fuck you!"
"Leave him alone" Helen screams from the cell. "He spent all morning on those".
She chooses her team. The weird man. Looking after number one. There is no future with
thugs, but there might be a way out of this mess with the drug maker.
Davie slams a flat hand against the cell bars to make the girl shut up and it works.
She steps back in fright. "Why are you so friggin' worried, pal? What's the story?"
The doctor has to think quickly as he wriggles out of Davie's grasp. K neeling, he
looks up at his assailant and smiles thinly. He holds his hands up, making the universal sign
of obeisance. "Different batches. Q uality control. We have to see if batch one is good. Then
we can use batch two as the control when we get into full production. If it?s all okay, we?re
on the road, but now I don't know which ones are which."
He scrabbles through the sachets, but there is no way to tell them apart. Fortunately
the second box, the one containing the brain- fry mixture, hit the floor and tipped to the left
and the doctor thinks that most of the bad sachets have fallen to the left of the skewed table
leg. He scoops them up and counts them back into the box. There are only eleven sachets.
He has no choice. He has to guess.
"Just sort it." Davie moves back to the far side of the table. He has shown the gook.
No one calls him an ape and gets away with it.
The doctor fills the first box, counting out one hundred sachets, and puts the
remaining three with the others from the second box. There's probably a killer or two in the
batch that Davie will take with him, but there?s nothing the doctor can do about that. They
will just have to live with the bloody mess. What does it matter, he thinks. Some poor kid
has a bad trip. Shit happens.
He hands the box to Davie, who looks at the doctor and then at the girl. "You'd
better be careful", Davie says and turns to leave. As he reaches the door he adds, "I'll be
telling Jock about this".
The door closes. Doctor Jasari goes over and locks it, returning the key to his jeans
pocket. The girl sits on the camp bed and he goes over and sits next to her. His heart is
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