AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Sloane’s face suddenly darkened, and she looked at Jack out of the corner of her eye. “Wait a minute… you said the main focus is Lou and the Santa Muertes and the PD. I don’t want to be the minor focus. Or any kind of goddamn focus, for that matter.”
“They’re not even after you.”
“The DEA’s not after me,” she said, like Pffff, yeah, RIGHT.
“Not this operation. I have no idea what their field office in Phoenix is cooking up.”
“Well, I’m sure your fuckin’ federales wouldn’t mind takin’ me along for the ride, too.”
“They won’t know about you. Not if we play this right.”
“And exactly how do you want to do that?”
“That’s kind of where we could use your tactical help,” Jack admitted.
“Jesus Christ. Not only do I got to save your ass, I got to wipe it, too,” Sloane griped – but she finally lowered her gun.
63
Through the next ten minutes, a rough plan emerged. I have to admit, whatever her other flaws (like the lack of any conscience), Sloane had a cunning and analytical mind.
Considering she was a drug-dealing outlaw biker, I’m not saying that’s a good thing.
“I’m thinking we go get the meth guy,” Jack said, returning to the original plan that Sid had pooh-poohed.
“You mean kill him?”
“No!” Jack said, offended. “Just get him to talk.”
“Why would you do that?”
“He can testify against Lou.”
“Riiiight. He ain’t gonna testify against Lou, honey, just like Zed and Pigpen ain’t gonna tell anybody how I get my kicks every once in a while, cuz they all know they’d get a bullet in the back of the head. ‘Sides, it ain’t gonna do you no good if the cook spills his guts to a buncha bikers. Why don’t you just tell the DEA and get them to go bust him?”
“…they already know about him,” Jack said sheepishly.
“And they ain’t picked him up yet?”
“…no…”
“Jesus Christ, Jack, then what good is going after the cook? Unless…”
Sloane went silent and got a far-off look in her eyes.
“Unless what?” Jack prodded.
“Unless you blow up the meth lab. That’ll cripple Lou’s operation. He’s gonna need a lot of money to rebuild another lab, so he’ll probably want to sell off whatever he’s got to raise the cash.”
“How much does he really need?” Jack asked dubiously. “Can’t he just get an RV and cook somewhere?”
“Not if he’s doin’ any sort of volume. The fact he’s got a permanent set-up big enough to fit in a barn tells me he could be doin’ anywhere from two to ten kilos of crystal a day, if he’s got enough supplies. And if the Santa Muertes are his buyers, he’s probably doin’ closer to ten. They wouldn’t mess around with any penny ante shit. They wanna buy and distribute in bulk, not deal with a buncha little fuckers.”
“Okay, so we destroy the meth lab, then,” Jack agreed.
She shook her head. “You can’t do that first.”
“Why not?!”
