Roland nodded. He wasn’t, really, but he could sober up fast. Maybe “sober” wasn’t the right word. His brain could flood itself with focusing drugs to offset the hallucinogens. And he had a vial of liquid meth­amphetamine somewhere in his pack. That might do the trick. Roland sat up, grunted, and waved a hand at Mike. Then he dug around in his pack for the vial. He found it and drained half.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said. “Let’s go to the place and do the things.”

Mike helped him down the spindle. Roland’s unsteady legs were proof that he’d managed to find himself a worthy drug binge. The satisfaction he felt from that mixed well with the initial meth euphoria. By the time they reached the conference room he was wired as fuck and kinda wishing he’d picked a different drug to spin his mood.

Roland sat down and eased into his chair. A short young anglo fellow entered next and sat down on the opposite side of the conference table. He looked and smelled nervous. Roland paid him little mind. He was too jittery from the meth to want to talk. He decided a nice dose of some downers would help his situation and rooted around for his heroin kit.

At that moment, another young man entered the room. He was short, Hispanic, and about twenty-one years old. Nana Yazzie embraced the kid. Skullfucker Mike clapped him on the shoulder. They started talking, the kid said something that seemed to surprise most of the people in the room. Roland half paid attention to all that while he loaded up his syringe and tied off his arm. He stopped when he realized everyone else in the room was staring.

“Uh, hey. Something wrong?” he asked.

“Roland,” Nana Yazzie said in a warm voice as she gestured to the Hispanic kid, “this is Manny. He’s going to be your partner for the mission. He grew up in the Republic and he’s a skilled negotiator. He’ll help you blend in while you do your work.”

“Cool,” Roland grunted, and returned to his heroin.

“Roland, if you wouldn’t mind, Reggie was about to speak,” Nana Yazzie’s smile was as indulgent as ever. “He’s uncovered something important about the Heavenly Kingdom. It might be useful to you.”

Roland shrugged. “Unless he’s got a list of which bartenders in Plano make a passable whiskey sour, I can’t imagine caring. But if you let me finish this…” he jiggled the syringe in the air, “I might be able to at least pay attention. Right now I’m too meth’d out to focus.”

The old man leaned forward and sighed. The kid looked horrified. He started working his mouth, in what Roland was sure must be the prelude to some sort of expression of shock or offense. Skullfucker Mike preempted him.