Bad to the Bones(63)
“Baldy Avery’s teenaged son was busted with some,” said Tuzigoot, stone-faced.
Knoxie nodded. “And so was mine, if you all didn’t know that already. These ‘simple farmers’ have already poisoned our elected officials. Who knows what they plan to do with this shitstorm of poisons they’ve got brewing in that whacky lab?”
“I agree,” said Ford, “it’s got to f*cking stop. I guess I kept hoping they’d just sit up there meditating and vibrating and mind their own business, but every time I turn around, they’re infringing in our backyard, stepping on our toes.”
Knoxie said, “We can’t sneeze without stumbling over one of those weirdoes selling flowers like some f*cking Moonies—not that there’s anything wrong with that. With these vortexes around P&E, we’ve all seen some loonies in our time.”
Everyone chuckled. Faux Pas said, “Yesterday I saw a purple selling pacifiers. You know, those things babies suck on? I guess they think it soothes some primal urge.”
“Where’d you see that?” asked Duji. “Because I saw the exact same scene over by Bed, Bath, Beyond. Pacifiers. They weren’t even made out of candy. They were the serious rubber baby kind.”
“Bed, Bath, Beyond.” Turk chuckled behind his hand.
Duji turned on him. “What the f*ck, Blackburn? I was there buying new bath towels, if you really need to know.”
Knoxie almost rolled his eyes. He spoke louder. “My point is, we’ve got to act now. My old lady’s up there trying to save her sister. I think you all know my motivation, but it goes beyond that. It encompasses saving this town. We don’t have any intel what exactly they plan to do with these pathogens, but just being in possession of them indicates they don’t plan to run around healing anyone’s chakras.”
“Right,” said Lytton. “I looked it up—naturally, their lab is far from being registered to work with select agents, if they even had a building permit for it at all. I’m sure the vials weren’t even in a locked freezer. There are all kinds of things we can get them on. Just being in possession is the biggest offense. We can easily tie the batch of salmonella to the judge’s poisoning. I’ll bring Maddy’s test results directly to Judge Rizzoli. He can issue a warrant immediately, and nothing can stop them from searching the lab. I understand if it’s not quick or far-reaching enough for you, Flip. But we’ve got nothing to lose if you want to make a run for your old lady and sister. I’m in.”
“I’m in,” said Turk. “Just make sure we know her location. Those guys are bristling with Russian ladies.”
That was the thing. Knoxie didn’t know Bellamy’s location. He knew that Ginny worked at a composting plant, and that she’d been booted from the swami’s abode to sleep in a barracks. But there were dozens of those barracks dotting the canyons up there. It was mortifying to admit, but Bellamy hadn’t returned a single one of his phone calls since she’d busted in on him humping Misty. Lytton knew. Lytton had been the one dragging Bellamy out of his ink studio. That probably accounted for the dark, accusatory look in his eyes when he talked about the lab.
So Knoxie poked the table with his forefinger. “All I know is I’m going directly to that swami’s f*cking house. If we disable the guards at the service entrance I can get up there easily within three, four minutes. He stupidly built his palace so the access road goes down to the delivery door, so I can easily cut my engine and coast quietly. If we get to the guard shack before three this afternoon, according to my informant, we can jack that load of cheese, reroute it, and prevent it from reaching any teenagers.”
“Also take out Riker,” mentioned Ford.
Everyone snorted ironically. Riker had been down in the desert near Nogales when Ford’s father Cropper had met a bitter end a couple years back. It was widely rumored it had been Ford who had done the icing, and Knoxie respected that Ford had his own reasons for doing so. Riker had vanished, had never paid for his part in that drama. Ford had understandably tried to pry the name of Knoxie’s informant from him. To show trust, Knoxie had given Ford the address of the Nogales trap house—where Riker was now being called “Alcatraz” by the Presención clan—so he could do what he wanted, but Ford was chomping at the bit.
Knoxie now said, “My snitch told me Riker started suspecting him of having flipped so Riker took the wheel himself when they started up this morning. Theoretically we won’t even see Riker, if the undercover agents get him at the truck stop, which is the plan.”
“It’s decided,” said Ford with finality. “Either way I’m with you. I’ll create an explosive distraction over by the main gate to buy some time. I can throw together an IED in a flash, nothing anti-personnel that fragments. Put some C-4 in the rocks with a wireless detonator. Lytton, Turk, Tuzigoot, Ziggy. You secure the delivery gate, disable the guards so they can’t warn the swami.” He pounded his gavel. “Meeting closed.”
Everyone took their cells from a bucket near the chapel door as they filed out into the airplane hangar. “Fuck,” Knoxie muttered when he saw a text from June Illuminati that also went to her husband Lytton and his brother Ford.
“Fuck,” Ford and Lytton echoed as they also read the text.
Emma just told me what those f*cking douchemonkeys did last night. They tried to torch Paul Goodhue’s office. Luckily they’re so incompetent they only succeeded in burning a couple of computers and some files, but man is Paul pissed. When are you doing something about them?