Stay Vertical (The Bare Bones MC #2)(44)
“I think I’ll actually purchase some,” said Toby. “I’ve been curious for years what their Blue Widow Kush is like.”
Lytton frowned. “You do know it’s been sprayed with bifenthrin and diazinon over there on Ochoa’s farm, and probably permethrin.”
“Permethrin is safe for humans,” said Toby. “We use it to get rid of head lice.”
“Yeah, but all of those things Ochoa uses are deadly to aquatic life, and I’m sure he doesn’t properly dispose of his wastewater. Consider we’re doing all the patients of medical marijuana a service, getting A Joint Effort shut down.”
“Just coincidentally in time for the grand opening of The Buddy System,” goofed Toby.
“The Buddy System uses only a hundred percent organic medicine,” Lytton recited. It was true. It made his system a lot more complex and labor-intensive, and he never got those super-mega-steroid Christmas trees that Ochoa got, but Lytton didn’t want that. His reputation for being green was sterling statewide. Even his friend Saul, the inspector always on the take who didn’t give a shit about organic, marveled at Lytton’s pristine methods.
Lytton had just written The Buddy System’s business plan so all this self-righteous stuff was fresh in his brain. He continued lecturing Toby. “These patients are immunocompromised, they’re going through chemo, they’re sick with antibacterial loads. A Joint Effort is subjecting them to more contaminants when they’re just looking for something to make them feel better. Marijuana is basically safe. Corrupt growers like Ochoa are profiting off their crops by any ruthless and unsafe means. We know we can get rid of aphids and spider mites without that shit. There is nothing medical about Ochoa’s grow.”
Toby wasn’t listening. “I know I’m stuck being Tobiah Weingarten of Mormon Lake ‘cause that’s what my medical pot card says, but I want to really build up my backstory. Since I’m supposed to be a nerd—”
“’Supposed to be a nerd’?” Lytton queried.
“—it’ll help if I say I graduated with a PhD from some nerdy school.” Tobiah had long been laboring under the stigma of having only gotten a master’s, not a PhD, from MIT. It bothered him more than it bothered anyone else.
“Like MIT? Listen, Toby, I don’t think you need to get into elaborate detail about your backstory. Just convince whoever’s at the counter that you’re a nerd, which shouldn’t be hard to do, and get him to take the flash drive. Then we’ll meet back at my ride.”
“Which you parked in the side lot of The Bum Steer.”
“Yeah.” Lytton practically chortled with glee at the sheer beauty of the plan. Of course they couldn’t actually go inside The Bum Steer, the former clubhouse of The Bare Bones. They had an aversion to having their faces rearranged, but it would build up a vindictive and super-hilarious alibi when club brothers later realized Lytton’s bike had been in the vicinity of the massive Joint Effort job.
“Okay. Here’s the alley that goes to their loading dock. Looks like the back doors are closed. I’ll just leave this shit in the dumpster and go get a coffee, meet you at my bike.”
“Deal.” Toby had to jump out there so he could walk around to the front of the store and hand the security guard his marijuana card. Lytton had a different mission altogether.
He idled the truck while watching Toby saunter off in his dork costume of white belt, boat shoes, and tight floodwater pants. It was essential that Toby convince whoever was the budtender that he had the new version of the popular Assassin’s Creed video game on a flash drive. It wouldn’t be released until midnight a few days from now, but Toby had mocked up a convincing version that would fool anyone long enough to download the virus onto their system.
So not only had A Joint Effort’s new shipment of weed been jacked, their entire accounting system would be permanently f*cked, causing them to eagerly embrace a new shipment of marijuana coming from Sinaloa, Mexico. The Cutlass’ brother club, The Dotards, had been willing to sell the shipment to The Bare Bones at a much smaller profit margin than usual due to a long-standing but obscure vendetta a Dotard old lady had with a Bare Bones old lady. Turk Blackburn had accepted the shipment, and it was due to arrive tomorrow, just in time for Lytton’s bud buddy, Saul Goldblum of the Department of Health Services, to make a surprise inspection.
Not only would Saul use his microscope to find pesticides, it would occur to him to look in the back alley dumpster where Lytton was about to plant almost-empty bottles of parathion, DDT, and paraquat, banned pesticides Lytton knew would be found in the Sinaloa marijuana. Those were three of the “Dirty Dozen,” the world’s most hazardous agrochemicals. The Bare Bones’ pot dispensary would be literally shut down.
It was the final touch in a truly evil plan that had mostly been concocted by Lytton, with Toby adding the flourishes about the midnight release of the video game. Now Lytton parked the Staples box truck off to the side of the alley so that it didn’t block any traffic but would be painfully visible to any Bare Boner who happened to drive by. Yanking the ski hat down over his face, Lytton gathered the pesticide bottles and left the keys in the truck.
He had to be fast about this. Tobiah had claimed his virus would also take out the security cameras, but he’d probably only gotten in the front door by now, and who knew how long it took for the nerd inside to go check out the latest Assassin’s Creed update? So Lytton quickly padded to the dumpster with his bottles of poison, and was just about to lift the lid when he heard something alongside the dumpster.