Bullet Head Page #4

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f***ing magazine.

Ah, and he needed truffles.

Yeah. Fifty cents

on the dollar.

But where the f***

is the product?

It's in the ground.

You got to dig it up.

Except he tells me

about this auction

that they hold

once a year, right?

The f***ing thing

is simulcast,

Florence, London, Macau.

Sold.

STACY:

Now, these things get brought

in the country chained

to some ex-Mossad's wrist.

High security.

But the guy that runs

the auction decides

he's going to cut costs.

Puts them in a regular old

storage unit

right here in town.

I case the place.

There's only one guard

on night shift.

Poor bastard humps mail

all day for the post office,

so he's out like a light

soon as the guy before him

takes off.

But I can't for the life of me

figure out

what unit these truffles

are in.

I get this methed-out

Bulgarian hacker,

dresses like Obi-Wan Kenobi,

to try and check

client records for me.

No dice, man.

Place is old-school.

Strictly paper files.

I pull a favor with Mr. Clean

and borrow a truck.

I start digging

through this place's trash

for billing statements,

invoices, credit card receipts,

anything I can find

to track these things down.

But this place shares an alley

with a Korean fish market,

and the only thing I'm going

to get out of these Dumpsters

is f***ing cholera.

I tell the chef

I'm throwing in the towel.

I mean, this place

is 12 floors, 50 units each.

But he begs me to stay on.

Tells me he's going to pay me

70 cents on the dollar.

So I do a little research,

find out about this guy

in New Jersey.

Crazy South African

living in a shack

way out in the Pine Barrens.

Got that disease where he's got

no hair on his body.

He trains truffle dogs.

WALKER:

Truffle dogs?

Yeah, well, they're better

than pigs

because pigs eat

the things.

Dogs will just dig them up,

as long as you've got food

they like better on standby.

Makes sense.

STACY:

Turns out there's

only a handful

of real deal ace truffle dogs

in the whole f***ing country,

and this guy owns two.

Now, as you know, at the time,

I haven't yet cultivated

an appreciation

for the canine species,

but I'm looking at this little

Jack Russell and I'm thinking,

maybe I can make this work.

Get one of those

carrying cases,

like what's-her-name

with the sex video?

Sneak him right into the place

and sniff the sh*t out.

[barks]

Whoa.

This little bastard must smell

my cat or something,

because he won't even

let me get near him.

That ain't going

to work.

So I have to take

the other one.

WALKER:
Wait,

there's another one?

STACY:
Yeah,

I already told you.

This guy's got

two of these things.

Keeps the second one

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