A Jamaican voice answered the call. “Process Man, how can I assist you today?”
“Where are you right now?” demanded Oliver, as he fumbled with his keys at the side of the old Ford.
“In Old Town, in Ankeny Square,” said Zippy.
“I need some Blue.” Oliver heard a scratchy line. “Are you there?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in five minutes.”
“Got to be, because I have my last supply in my pocket,” advised Zippy. “People want it, man.”
“I have $ 300,” exclaimed stridently Oliver.
“Enough to buy three baggies, if you get here quickly, Process Man. I hope the price doesn’t rise in the next five minutes,” said Zippy. The line went silent.
Oliver floored the accelerator to move into traffic. He darted and weaved his way through the downtown traffic until he reached the square. He parked in
