The Curious Case of the Two Dirk Gentlys

36: The Girls Sent by Louis

It took Farah two hours and a hundred miles to accept that nobody from Blackwing was following them. It could have been Ken had realised how futile chasing them would be, it could have been he was cooling off from his second near death experience that week, but most probably he was struggling to track a vehicle that didn't technically exist. Another twenty miles later they pulled over to take the next step in their plan. At the side of the road sat a cafe or more accurately a heavily furnished shed. No reviews and no stars, it screamed 'this is definitely not a money laundering scheme'. Still beggars can't be choosers. They needed a phone and something to drink and they needed them urgently. If a nicely decorated front for organised crime was the nearest thing then it would have to do.

"That was terrifying. How did you ever pass your test?" Farah asked Bart as she stepped onto the gravel bay.

"Test?" Asked Bart. Farah sighed. What did she expect?

Within the blink of an eye the ice cream truck disappeared and Mona fell to her knees. Unphased she stumbled to her feet and ignored the stinging of the scraps. The trio entered the cramped cafe. They were quickly met with the cool, clean smell of chemical disinfectant. They ignored it, there was no time to be put off by such trivial details. They could go without the drink, trusting anything the owners were serving would likely be a mistake. All they needed was a phone. With a phone they could contact Dirk and while he wouldn't necessarily know what to do he would one way or another tell them the right thing to do, albeit in a very round about way. The man at the counter didn't even glance up at them. He just kept on cleaning his mugs. Farah cleared her throat, the man grumbled. Stupid customers.

"What do you want?" He groaned.

"We'd like to use your phone please." Smiled Farah, using her best 'we're normal people, please don't hurt us' voice.

"One dollar fifty cents." The man replied.

" I'm...sorry?" She asked.

"Our cheapest menu item is one dollar fifty cents. You should know how things work at your age. You can't use the phone unless you buy something first." The man explained with little interest or enthusiasm.

"I thought that was toilets." Said Mona.

"And phones." The man scowled. "Now pay up."

"Oh um." She routed around her pocket, spilling a couple of loose coins onto the floor.

"I could change if you like. I'm sure if could do two dollars." Said Mona.

"Not in here." Farah scowled.

"This is taking too long." Grumbled Bart. She grabbed a knife from her jumpsuit and lunched forward. Farah jumped back as Bart clung to the man's collar. Where had she got a knife from? Where had she even been hiding it? Scratch that, she didn't want to know. "Hand over the phone or die bitch." She shouted.

"Jesus Christ, lady." He yelled, brushing her off of his collar. "Did Louis send you?" He asked.

"Um...yes, Louis sent us." Farah nodded.

"Didn't think Louis was the type to send women to run his errands." He scoffed.

"Clearly you don't know Louis as well as you think." Said Farah confidently.

"Wait here." He nodded firmly. Farah sighed with relief as Bart slipped the knife away. The man returned with a rotary phone that likely hadn't been upgraded since the late 80s and probably hadn't been used since then either. It was coated with a thick layer of dust. Farah brushed it off with her sleeve and dialed Dirk's number. She must have been the only person left in the world who remembered phone numbers.

"Hello, you've reached the voicemail of...urr...Todd, is this a professional number or a personal number?" The pre-recorded message crackled. Farah sighed and hung up. He was probably in the middle of something. Todd was usually a little better when it came to picking up the phone. She dialed the number as fast as she could. It rang twice before clicking. She smiled, she knew she could rely on Todd. Except Todd didn't answer. No, not Todd at all.

"Hello, this is Todd's phone. Friedkin speaking."