Kurtz knew that twice a week the nearby Buffalo Bakery left an abandoned pickup truck in its park lot filled with three-day-old bread. The homeless knew the schedule. Kurtz's belly rumbled. He had not eaten all day. He held the battered, steaming tin coffee cup in one hand and accepted the bread.
"Song of Solomon 2:5," continued Soul Dad, setting two overripe apples on the crate in front of Kurtz. "Comfort me with apples. "
Kurtz had to smile. "The Bible actually has recipes and recommends apples?"
"Absolutely," said Soul Dad. "Leviticus 7:23 is even so modern as to advise, Eat no manner of fat although if I had some bacon, I'd fry it up for us."
Kurtz ate the bread, took a bite of apple, and sipped his scalding coffee. It was one of the best meals he'd ever tasted.
Pruno blinked and said, "Leviticus also advises, Ye shall eat no manner of blood . But I think that is what Joseph has in mind when it comes to this Satan, Malcolm."
Soul Dad shook his head. "Malcolm Kibunte is no Satan the white man who provides him with the poison is Satan. Kibunte is Mastema from the lost book, Jubilees"
Kurtz looked blank.
Pruno cleared his phlegmy throat. "Mastema was the demon who commanded Abraham to kill his own son," he said to Kurtz.
"I thought God did that," said Kurtz.
Soul Dad slowly, sadly shook his head. "No God worth worshiping would do that,
Joseph."
"Jubilees is apocryphal," Pruno said to Soul Dad. And then, as if remembering something obvious. "Diabolos . Greek for one who throws something across one's path . Malcolm Kibunte is diabolical , but not Satanic."
Kurtz sipped his coffee. "Pruno sent me a reading list before I went into Attica. I didn't think it was that long a list, but I spent the better part of ten years working on it and didn't finish it."
"Sapientia prima est stultitia caruisee, " said Pruno. "Horace. 'To have shed stupidity is the beginning of wisdom. "
"Frederick was always good for self-improvement lists," said Soul Dad, chuckling.
"Who's Frederick?" said Kurtz.
"I used to be," said Pruno and closed his eyes again.
Soul Dad was looking at Kurtz. "Joseph, do you know why Malcolm Kibunte is an agent of Satan and why the white man behind Kibunte is Satan himself?"
Kurtz shook his head and took another bite of apple.
"Yaba," said Soul Dad.
The word rang a faint bell for Kurtz, but only a very faint bell. "Is that Hebrew?" he asked.
"No," said Soul Dad, "it's a form of methamphetamine, like speed, only with the punch and addictiveness of heroin. Yaba can be smoked, ingested, or injected. Every orifice becomes a portal to heaven."
"Portal to heaven," repeated Pruno, but it was obvious that he was no longer a part of the conversation.
"A devil drug," said Soul Dad. "A true generation killer."
Yaba . Shooting yaba. That's where Kurtz had heard the name. Some of the younger cons used it. Kurtz had never had much interest in other people's addictions. And there were so many drugs available in prison.
"So Kibunte is dealing yaba?" said Kurtz.
Soul Dad nodded slowly. "He came first with the usualcrack, speed, heroin. The Bloods were the victors in the gang wars of the early nineties, and to the victors belong the spoils. Malcolm Kibunte supplied the spoils. The usual mindkillers at firstcrack, meth, speed, angel dust. But within the past eight or nine months, yaba has flowed from the Seneca Social Club to every street corner. The bangers buy it cheap, but then need it soon and often. The price goes up quickly until within a yearor lessthe price is death."
"Where does yaba come from?" said Kurtz.
"That's the fascinating part," said Soul Dad. "It flows in from Asiafrom the Golden Trianglebut its use has been limited in the United States. Suddenly here it is in great quantities in Buffalo, of all places."
"The New York Families?" said Kurtz.
Soul Dad opened his large hands. "I think not. The Colombians controlled the drug trade here for decades, but in recent years, the Families have come back onto the scene, working with the Colombians to regulate much of the flow of opium products. The sudden introduction of yaba, although terribly profitable, does not appear to be part of the plan of organized crime."
Kurtz finished the last of his coffee and set the tin cup down. "The Farino family," he said. "Someone in the family is supplying Malcolm. Could it be coming from Vancouver? What source is in Vancouver" Kurtz stopped in mid-sentence.
Soul Dad nodded.
"Jesus!" whispered Kurtz. "The Triads? They control the flow of junk into North America on the West Coast, and they have plenty of meth labs in Vancouver, but why supply a mob family here? The Triads are at war with the West Coast Families"
Kurtz was silent for several minutes, thinking. Somewhere in the shack city, an old man began coughing uncontrollably and then fell silent. Finally Kurtz said, "Christ. The Dunkirk Arsenal thing."
"I think you are right, Joseph," Soul Dad rumbled. Closing his eyes, he intoned, "Our contest is not against flesh and blood, but against powers, against principalities, against the world-rulers of this present darkness, against spiritual forces of evil in heavenly places ." He opened his eyes and showed strong white teeth in a grin. "Ephesians 6:12."