forget it himself.
It wasn’t working so far.
“Yeah.”
“But he’s in jail, right?”
“Him and his older brother, Manny—pretty much their whole gang. For now.”
They probably could have gone on like that for the rest of the day, but Magnus came in. He had two cups of steaming hot coffee in his hands. Kristen immediately stood up to put her frumpy frontier dress on. Greg still wasn’t sure how or why he’d resisted her body the night before.
She smiled at him and slid out of the tent. Both men watched her go before Magnus got down to business.
“Coffee?”
Greg looked between his tied hands and raised an eyebrow. Magnus set the two cups down on the ground and loosened the ropes around his wrists. Greg immediately sat up. Two men were standing outside of the tent with rifles in their hands.
“What about my feet?”
“You’re fine. Drink up. Long day ahead if I’m going to get you up to speed.”
Greg reached for the cup with a tingly hand. He tried to shake the numbness away instead.
“Where’s Marco?”
“He’s safe, for now. How’d you and Ursula get along?”
Greg didn’t want him to find out that all they’d done was talk. He could only imagine what Magnus would do to her if he knew what she’d said.
“Sweet girl. Great body.”
“Lots more like her here. You can have your pick, if you play ball.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“First thing we need to do is get you dressed. Then we’ll take a little tour of the operation. But I’ll warn you, my men won’t hesitate to shoot you if you try to run.” Magnus nodded to the door, sipping at his coffee. “And if they don’t get you, the booby traps will.”
Greg drank half of his down in a single gulp.
“Almost sounds like you’re daring me.”
“Take it however you want. But even if you do get away, it’ll be much more painful for your friend.” He stood up and headed outside. “Get your feet untied and grab a uniform. I’ll give you a few minutes.”
There was a cardboard box filled with stiff blue jeans. A second box was filled with colorful plaid shirts. Greg put them on and a dusty old pair of work boots from a pile in the corner and went outside to face the day.
Magnus waited with a group of armed guards when Greg walked up. It was only eight, but the mountain air felt like a blast furnace on his face. Flies buzzed around Greg’s neck where thin streams of sweat started to form. Magnus greeted him like an old friend.
“Hot enough for you?”
“I want to see Marco.”
The familiar charm was gone, as quick as it had arrived.
“We all want something. Right now I want you to shut up and come with me.”
They started off across the camp with two guards in front and two behind. The tent that Greg was staying in stood at one end of a long row. He peeked into the other tents as they passed, noting that they all looked about the same inside. As they walked, they saw a few men and women, but the camp was mostly empty.
“Where is everybody?”
“Out in the fields. Let’s cut through here. Look familiar?”
They were back in the stadium. It seemed smaller now that Greg wasn’t so disoriented. They came out on the other side and walked by the pit. A couple sheets of plywood, held in place with broken cinderblocks, covered the hole. He wondered if some other poor bastard had replaced Marco down there, but didn’t dare ask. There were a lot of other questions he had about Grizzly Flats. It seemed smart to start with an easy one.
“What do you do with the bears when you don’t need them?”
Magnus stopped in his tracks. The same pained expression was back. He was either deeply annoyed or in terrible pain.
“Those bears aren’t trained. They’re wild.”
Greg’s stomach dropped. Magnus chuckled and pressed on. A large outcropping of cactus and rocks was just beyond the pit. It created a natural corral for housing a couple of dune buggies and a dozen or so motocross bikes. A few of Magnus’s men were working on the vehicles as Greg and Magnus walked by, but none of them looked up. Greg could see workers in the distance as he followed Magnus right up to the edge of an area the size of a football field filled with marijuana plants. It had taken less than ten minutes to tour the entire camp.
Magnus swept his arm out in front of himself.
“This is what it’s all about.”
Greg wasn’t that impressed, but decided it was best to hide that.
“Did you guys plant all of this?”
“We’ve got other fields around here, but this one’s the biggest. I bought it from some local bikers.”
“Don’t you ever worry about getting discovered?”
“Not many people come this deep into the Angeles National Forest. The few hikers that happen by don’t want any trouble, and the government doesn’t pay the Forest Service employees very well, if you know what I mean.”
“What about the sheriff’s department?”
“Everybody has a price—even people with badges—but we’ve definitely done our share of relocating.”
Greg no longer thought of himself as a police officer, but dirty cops still made his skin crawl. Maybe that’s what Magnus wanted from him: to broker deals with local law enforcement. Greg decided it might be worth considering if it meant that he and Marco could get out alive.
Magnus brought Greg back from his dark thoughts.
“What do you think?”
“It’s impressive, but I have to wonder—what will all of this matter once the Feds finally legalize marijuana and give those fat contracts to the cigarette companies?”
“I knew I liked you. That’s the same question I’ve been asking myself. Come with me.”
They walked along the edge of the field for a couple-hundred yards, finally reaching a stand of pine trees.
“If you want to stay ahead of the changes, you have to evolve. Think outside of the box. My former colleagues in the music industry couldn’t do it, and now look at them running around with their heads cut off.”
Magnus kept speaking as they wound their way through the trunks to a small camouflaged tent. It was the same size and shape as the
