“No,” I said, tears welling, as I squeezed his hand
harder. “You can’t. This is our story. You and me.”
Jack smiled. Then he said, “I know. Butch and Sundance, Henry. Thank you for saving my life.”
Then Jack O’Donnell closed his eyes for the last time.
Epilogue
Amanda held my hand through the entire funeral. I
didn’t cry once, and when the service was over, when the
church had emptied, I hated myself for that. But then I
realized that Jack had ended his life the way he wanted
to, chasing that one big story, his name once again where
it belonged. His final story.
Through the Darkness Comes the Dawn
by Jack O’Donnell and Henry Parker
Rex Malloy was dead. Eve Ramos was dead. Sevag
Makhoulian was found less than an hour after Jack’s
death, hiding in a gas station in Queens. He was under
indictment for enough crimes to keep him in prison until
the rapture.
No less than a dozen people, ranging from accountants
who handled the 718 assets to the mayor himself, were
under investigation. And I had no doubt that what they
would find would end perhaps the largest drug conspiracy
the city had ever seen.
And by investigators’ estimates, nearly ten tons worth
of narcotics had gone up in flames in that warehouse.
The Darkness
371
Though he died to tell the story, Jack had saved hundreds,
if not thousands of lives.
He would be remembered the way he deserved to be.
A journalist who told the truth, a man who uncovered the
greatest stories never told.
The day of the funeral, the Gazette ran a special edition
with an insert that collected some of Jack’s most famous
pieces from his nearly fifty years on the job. Reading them
on the subway to work reminded me of just what an amazing
career he’d had. And just how rich a life had been lost.
When I got to my desk, there was a voice mail waiting
for me. It was from Linda Veltre, the woman who’d edited
Jack’s book Through the Darkness nearly twenty years
ago, chronicling the rise of the drug trade, the story where
Jack had first learned of the Fury. Her publisher wanted
to reissue Jack’s book. And she wanted me to write the
introduction.
Plus, she said, if I had any thoughts of writing my own
book about the investigation of Eve Ramos and 718 Enterprises, she’d love to talk to me over lunch. Apparently
she’d already received a call from Paulina Cole’s literary
agent expressing interest in writing a book about the
story, but the editor felt mine was the right one to tell.
It was something to think about, but another day.
The day after Jack’s funeral I walked into the offices
of the New York Gazette, and immediately something felt
different, off. I received several nods from my colleagues,
the same ones who congratulated me with their eyes, but
were afraid to speak because they knew what Jack had
meant to me.
Sitting down, I looked out over Rockefeller Center, at
a city Jack had known better than most people know
themselves. It was a city that pulsed with a million dif-372
Jason Pinter
ferent veins, a million different stories. And those stories
were still out there, waiting to be discovered.
Life would go on. Jack would have wanted it to.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Wallace Langston
making his way across the newsroom floor. There was
somebody with him. I couldn’t see who it was, but Wallace
was talking to him earnestly, pointing at things as they
walked.
As they got closer, I could see that Wallace was leading
around a young man. He looked to be twenty-one or
twenty-two, a good-looking kid with short black hair,
sharp features, and an air of wonder about him. He was
following Wallace’s lead like a child experiencing a
museum for the first time.
A new reporter. I smiled. The day Wallace had shown
me the ropes didn’t feel that long ago.
Wallace was not introducing the new guy to anyone.
That would come later.
Then Wallace took a detour and stopped by my desk.
The new guy’s cheeks were red, embarrassed, and he had
trouble making eye contact.
“Henry,” Wallace said. “This is Nicholas Barr. He’s
fresh out of J-school.”
“Nice to meet you, Nicholas,” I said, offering my hand.
“Yeah, nice to meet me, too. You. I mean meet you.
Me, nice to meet you.”
“Easy there, Nicholas,” I said.
“You can call me Nick,” he said, his voice shaking. “Or
Nicholas. Nicky. Whatever you want.”
“Nick it is.”
“That’s cool,” he stammered. “I mean, okay.”
“We’ll catch up later, Parker,” Wallace said, and I felt
the veteran editor’s hand on my shoulder. Wallace would
The Darkness
373
miss Jack as much as I would. It’d be good to tell stories
of the old man. “Maybe you’ll show this new kid the
ropes sometime.”
“You got it.”
And then, when Wallace and Nick Barr had left my
desk, I heard the young reporter whisper enthusiastically
to Wallace, “Dude, that was Henry Parker.”
“He’s a great reporter,” Wallace said. “And actually, I
think the two of you will get along quite well.”
“Unreal,” Barr said. “This whole place. Unreal.”
I smiled, thinking about several years ago, my first day
at the Gazette, when I swiped Jack O’Donnell’s coat with
my hand just to see if it was real. I remembered the pride
and disbelief in knowing I’d be working just mere feet
from a living legend.
Unreal. It had all seemed unreal.
Then I looked at Nick Barr, standing where I’d been
just a few short years ago, and knew that Jack might be
living on through me.
* * * * *
Author’s Note
This book is a work of fiction, but many of the events discussed, specifically in regard to the growth of the drug trade
in the United States in the 1980s and the CIA’s involvement
in the distribution of crack to fund Contra groups, are based
in fact. Gary Webb’s series of “Dark Alliance” articles in the
San Jose Mercury News contributed mightily to the development of this book. As is often the case, the truth surrounding Webb’s reporting and his alleged suicide is far
stranger (and more terrifying) than fiction.
The full text of Webb’s reporting is online, and can
be read at:
www.narconews.com/darkalliance/drugs/index.htm
The murder of Robert Paz was an actual international
incident, and one that was instrumental in sparking the
U.S. invasion of Panama and the eventual capture of
Manuel Noriega. The manner of Paz’s death described in
this book is accurate, as was his alleged membership in
the “Hard Chargers,” a U.S.-backed insurgency brigade
whose purpose was to incite c
onflict with the Panama
Defense Forces in the hopes of inciting retaliation that
would positively impact public opinion about the conflict.
While the actual event in which Ramos and Malloy
were ambushed during their time as members of the
Special Forces in Panama is fiction, it was inspired by the
facts surrounding the murder of Robert Paz.
For further reading on these topics, I recommend the
following books:
DARKALLIANCE by Gary Webb (Seven Stories Press)
KILL THE MESSENGER by Nick Schou (Nation
Books)
LEGACY OF ASHES by Tim Weiner (Anchor Books)
CRACK IN AMERICA: edited by Craig Reinarman
and Harry G. Levine (University of California Press)
COCAINE by Dominic Streatfeild (Picador)
THE COMMANDERS by Bob Woodward (Simon
and Schuster)
Acknowledgments
As always, my sincerest thanks to Dianne Moggy,
Margaret O’Neill-Marbury, Donna Hayes, Michelle
Renaud, Heather Foy, Don Lucey, Adam Wilson, Christine Lowman, Craig Swinwood, Catherine Burke,
Belinda Mountain and the whole worldwide MIRA team.
My editor, Linda McFall, has seen both Henry and
myself through thick and thin, and her quick pen and
spot-on instincts make his stories that much richer.
Joe Veltre is a first-class agent and a great friend.
Here’s to another book together.
The crime-writing community has been incredibly
supportive of my books. For that I must acknowledge Jon
and Ruth Jordan of CrimeSpree, George Easter and the
staff of Deadly Pleasures, Lynn Kaczmarek at Mystery
News, Andrew Gulli of The Strand and everyone at ITW
and MWA who allowed me into their families.
My two extraordinary families—one by birth, one by
marriage—continue to be my biggest fans and I am incredibly fortunate to have your love and support.
James Ellroy’s stunning novel L.A. Confidential was
the main inspiration for this book. Thanks to your searing
tale, this story exists.
And to Susan, who has been my partner in every way,
shape and form, the person whose approval means more
to me than anything, thank you for again making me a
better writer and a better man.
These Henry Parker fans went above and beyond
helping to spread the word about my books. A sincere
thank-you to all of them. Stacy Alesi, Alex Bash, Will
Bernier, Vickie Bolton, Nicole A. Bowling, Michael
Cader, Mike Cane, Simon-Luke Clark, Nancy Cobb,
Rhonda Despins, Alex Faye, Seth Harwood, Ron Hogan,
Dante Howard, Brenda Janowitz, Toni Kelich, Christopher Lawson, Mary Beth Lee, Michele Lee, Becky
LeJeune, Dave Letus, Catherine Mambretti, R.J. Mangahas,
Kevin Manning, Charles B. Mauldin III, Mary Menzel,
Tricia Mescall, Michael O’Neill, Lisa Pietsch, Allison
Pinter, Tracey Prindle, Yvonne Roberts, Tori Scott,
Jennifer Shew, Jamie Singerman, Joy Smith, Jessica
Stachak, Laurence Vergowven, Sarah Weinman, Chris
Well, Jason Wells, Dave White and Jamieson Wolf.
®
ISBN: 978-1-4268-4425-6
THE DARKNESS
Copyright © 2009 by Jason Pinter.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or
utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic,
mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher,
MIRA Books, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are
either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and
any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments,
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The Darkness (2009) Page 36