Conversation · Siileng

"But you are a lorryman. Another driver has identified you and your lorry."

"Who said that? It's the fat racist, right? I bet it's him. He has an agenda against me, because I'm an immigrant who works harder than he does. He's a hater."

"So you admit you're a lorry driver?"

"No! I just said I work harder and he's an asshole. I'm..." He stops to think.

Realizing he can't get out of it. Smart man.

"Okay, maybe I'm a lorry driver too -- a little. But that's not the most important thing about me, that's my day job. This is my dream." He spreads his arms.

"So you were embarrassed to tell me?"

"No. I just forgot. It's such a small part of my life. It's in the rear view mirror now. I'm climbing out of that hole -- with ingenuity."

"Siileng, my source tells me you're the one transporting drugs for the Union."

"No. That's insane... It's the fat hater! He's been eyeing me for a week and he sent you here. Maybe he's the one, huh? Have you thought about that?"

"Stop squirming. What do you know about the drug operation at the harbour?"

"Nothing, I told you. I'm not a dumb guy -- I don't get involved with that crowd. "

"And what crowd is that?"

"Crowd -- you know? The drug crowd."

No. He wasn't talking about an abstract crowd. It was that crowd.

There's more here. He's afraid of this crowd, whoever they are. More than he is of the racist lorryman.

"Who are you afraid of, Siileng?"

"Look..." He looks around and lowers his voice. "There's bad people doing bad things here -- that's all I know. Please don't get me into this mess, I've spent fifteen years working my way up..."

Here we go. There's a tiny bit of truth on the table. Zoom in on it.

"If you don't want to get into this mess..." (Raise your voice) "You HAVE to give us a REASON to move on."

"It's a she, okay?" he whispers. "The other drivers call her the lady driver. You're better off staying away from her -- the way they talk about her..." He shakes his head. "She's no lady."

There you go. A witness with corroborating evidence: it's Ruby.

"Could she be associated with the Hardie boys?"

"I don't know... I'm not local. I don't know anything about that."

"Who are these 'other drivers' who talk?"

"All of them, I don't know. I told you all I know. Are we cool now? I really want us to be cool now."

"Who exactly is talking about this lady-driver of yours? The racist? Or the other one, with the tattoos?" He points north.

"All of them. Even the ones who've left. I don't hang out with them, I don't remember who has tattoos."

He's aching to get back to his usual shtick. All this whispering is bad for business.

"Okay. We're cool now." (Conclude.)

"All right!" He snaps back to his act. "Very cool. Let's cap this off with a purchase. A pair of funky sunglasses, detective. You deserve it! And I deserve it too, don't you think?"

"Could her name be Ruby by any chance?"

"I don't know. I told you... I don't know her name."

"Is the lady driver the old woman back there?" (Point to the Paledriver.) "Dazed out, strange?"

"I don't know... maybe? If she is, I haven't gone near her. I don't get involved, I told you."

No, it's still Ruby. Interesting that he doesn't seem aware of her existence, though...

It could be. She was strange.

He's not ruling her out.

"She? Where is she? I haven't yet met a woman on the roundabout."

"There's one by the statue of that king." He points towards the roundabout. "I haven't gone near her. And I won't either."

"The third driver," he nods. "We haven't talked to her yet. Where exactly is she -- near the horseback monument?"

He nods. "In her lorry there, but... I don't know if it's her... Are we cool now? I think we're cool now."

A lady driver? Perhaps connected to Ruby somehow?

Interesting. Could this driver be connected to the Hardie boys?

"We're buddies, Siileng. Help us out. No one will know it was you."

"Okay. If you don't know then I'll tell your employer you've been selling his stuff."

"No use -- he's not telling us. He's too afraid. We need to take him to my station and ask him there. After we've called his boss."

"Okay, look..." The vendor looks around, then lowers his voice. "There's bad people doing bad things here -- that's all I know. Please don't get me into this mess, I've spent fifteen years working my way up..."

"Okay, look..." He looks around and lowers his voice. "There's bad people here. Doing bad things. That's all I know. Please don't get into this mess. I've been Revachol for fifteen years, working my way up..."

"It wasn't some drug crowd. You know who they are. Tell me now!"

"Shush, please..." He looks around, then lowers his voice. "There's bad people doing bad things here -- that's all I know. Please don't get me into this mess, I've spent fifteen years working my way up..."

"You're wasting my time. Tell me who the fuck is transporting the drugs here!"

He doesn't want to talk about them... he's afraid.

"Wait, what crowd?"

"So you forgot to tell me?"

"Exactly! It's such a small part of my life. It's in the rear view mirror now. I'm climbing out of that hole -- with ingenuity."

"So you admit you're a lorry driver."

"That's even cooler -- you investigating narcotics crimes like that. But --" he points to the goods. "I am not a lorry driver, I'm just a street vendor. I don't know anything about that."

"That's so cool -- you investigating the local drug trade like some cool Narc. But --" he points to the goods. "I am not a lorry driver, I'm just a street vendor. I don't know anything about that."

"I actually don't like drugs."