It was after the third robustious pair of johns had been turned into currency that China Blue and Flora-Dora sat in a small bar nearby, for a drink and warmth after the bitter cold outside; China turned to Flora: "is it always like that, truckers coming along in pairs? do they travel together, or meet up at the Depot?" and Flora swallowed some vermouth before replying: "they come from one of the Depots, I dunno which, or what they haul but yeah, they work as a team on some kinda long-haul operation between South America and Canada, either East Coast or West – one a them tol' me they drive in pairs, well, one drives, the other sleeps, an when they stop for gas sometime or other, they swap places, so it's near enuff non-stop," and China smiled slyly, like she'd thought of the answer to a quiz question before the question was finished: "must be a special kinda load, then, jeez, how far can a truck like that be goin? thousands of miles, I guess, all day and all night?" which was when Flora risked the question she had formulated: "are you a unda-cuvva cop, babes? ah nevva knew you to ask anythin personal bout tricks, or what they work at, you usually just take the bills and forget about them!" and China laughed, at herself, because she knew that Flora had inadvertently asked the right question so she cachinnated, her uncontrolled laughter turning a few heads their way, but she had her line all ready: "me? unda-cuvva? lookin like this? hardly fade inta the background girl, no, yeah I usually forget them as soon as I've rinsed out my mouth or pulled my knickers up, ya know the score, I jest putter about, pick 'em up, stick 'em in, flick 'em off, who or what they are don't mean nuthin to me, they're just dicks, an the stuff that goes on above the waist is above my pay-grade, huh? but it just seemed so strange, three pairs of workin guys cummin along just like that – okay, I've not worked truckies in years, but they were always singles – like that Bart Goldfinch your friend Carmen offed – say, did you give a statement to the cops investigatin her case?" but Flora shuddered: "no way babes, I'd do anythin to help Carmen, she's a sweetheart, she's only workin to pay for her operation and that guy Goldfinch was a couple o hundred pounds heavier than her, I don't think she'd ever been him before, but he was some mean shit, only one or two of the local gals went with him more than once, and some of them ended up in hospital – ya know, he left another once, Cindy Something, layin on the sidewalk unconscious after he'd squeezed her throat so hard, the ambulance had to take her to City, and they called the cops, but when Cindy woke she said she din know who had done it to her, too scared to finger him, so nuthin happened; they don't encourage us to report anyone an the case usually goes down the crapper for want of evidence or witnesses – leastways what they call Reliable Witnesses, which don't include no hos, but after Carmen maybe did what they say, the lot was crawlin with CSIs for a week, doin those – whatchacallit? - oh yeah, fingertip searches; dunno what they found – used rubbers an needles is about all I guess; all the other truckers, singles or teams, raised money for Carmen's defence – I spect they'd all fucked her a few times, she was popular with the tricks and not just cos she had a Willie Wonka, she enjoyed what she was doin and though she only had two holes for them, she made full use of her assets; I really wish there was sumpn I could do, it'd be altruistic cos there'd be nuthin in it for me, and she don' deserve what she's gettin, but I waren't even there that night, so apart from sayin what Goldfinch did to me, witch is what they call Hearsay or Hostile Testimony or some other crap, what did Perry Mason say: 'incompetent, irrelevant, and immaterial!' yepp, babes, that's me!"