“My point is, you can combo meth with xylazine, an animal tranquilizer, and get some more deaths out of it, but you’ll also create some turbocharged crazy shit happening all over the country. Long-term effects are cognitive decline, depression, heart valve issues, stroke, brain bleeds, and meth mouth, meaning your teeth fall out as your gums rot. So, at a massive scale, all that will end up bankrupting the health care system in this country.”
“But it is not immediately fatal,” countered Masuyo. “That is the whole point.”
“Well, I don’t know about that, since nearly forty thousand died from overdosing meth last year in this country. But, again, why have death as the main goal? As I alluded to before, nobody sees the body except the police, the funeral director, and the family. The media reports on it occasionally and you have some sob stories here and there. But I don’t call that true disruption, just sweeping it under the rug, really. With meth you got people climbing trees, attacking Grandma and their own babies, stealing and trashing stuff, walking onto interstate highways, invading homes and businesses. Police gunning them down. Hospitals full of berserk nutjobs. People scared to go outside. Needles and glass pipes and drug paraphernalia everywhere. And again, one pop and you’re hooked, so maybe you start getting people to take hits without even knowing they are. You got a lot more addicts that way. And a lot more chaos.” He paused and then fixed his gaze on Lord.
Temple continued: “I guess it comes down to which do you think is moredisruptive. People lying quietly in graves and urns, or the fucking zombie apocalypse? And it’ll get your partners off your back because they won’t be losing so many customers, and because meth is so addictive those customers will keep coming back until the country goes right down the toilet, while you make more money than you ever have before because meth is cheap as shit to make and easy to get past police checkpoints.”
He stopped, spread his hands, and said, “That’s it. That’s my plan.”
He saw Masuyo quivering with some emotion but then Lord said, “A well-thought-out plan, Mr. Temple. I am impressed.” He looked at Masuyo. “Aren’t you?”
Masuyo didn’t answer right way but then said, “It seems to have reasonable potential.”
“So if it works out I can kill your daughter and bringyouher head?”
Masuyo turned to him and said, “It would give me great pleasure.”
“What are the next steps?” asked Lord.
“A trip to what I like to call ground fucking zero,” replied Temple.
CHAPTER
82
AWEEK LATER, AT AN ENORMOUSwarehouse facility a few miles south of San Diego and near the Mexican border, Rhett Temple, having just landed in his private jet a half hour before, strode through a side door with several armed men. Behind them came Connor Lord and Masuyo, who had just helicoptered in from Lord’s place in Malibu. Lord’s security detail also accompanied them.
The inside of the building was vast. On the rear side were loading docks, where a dozen semis were loading up with the products flowing from the warehouse. Workers scurried here and there, and forklifts rumbled over the cement floor, passing between enormous shelves rising fifty feet into the air, and all of them piled high with boxes full of merchandise.
In another section were long columns of huge refrigeration units crammed full of fruits, vegetables, and other perishables.
Lord said, “I was aware of this facility because it was part of the assets that I purchased, but I had not yet visited. From its sheer size I can see why you call it ground zero for the operation.”
Temple said, “It was actually purchased through my company, Sybaritic. I’ve been here many times over the years. In addition to fentanyl and other synthetic opioids, your daughter, Ms. Steers, trafficked in the more traditional contraband. LSD, heroin, coke, crack, GHB, and Ecstasy. Andmeth.”
Temple led Lord and Masuyo over to a stack of watermelons. He pulled one off the top, asked one of his security detail for a knife, slit the watermelon open, and laid the two halves on a work table.
Temple put on a double pair of nitrile gloves. “This watermelon has already been cut open. But then it was resealed so meticulously with a process we developed that no one could ever tell.” He pried out a dark seed. “That’s actually an Ecstasy pill. All the seeds are. We also put in GHB, fentanyl, pills laced with heroin, LSD. Don’t think even the drug-sniffing dogs can ferret this out.”
He next led them over to one of the warehouse shelves. He pulled off a box and opened it, revealing rolls of toilet paper. He unwrapped one roll and undid the toilet paper. “You can’t really see it, but there’s coke laced throughout the paper. We tried stuffing packs of pills and powder into the cardboard holder, but the cops figured that one out.”
They followed him to another shelf full of boxes.
He opened one and pulled out a bottle of perfume. From another box he lifted out a can of mineral water.
“Liquid meth is in both of these. When they get to where they’re going the meth will be extracted from the perfume and the water.”
“And does anyone actually drink the water after that or use the perfume?” asked a smiling Lord.
“Well, the extraction process is not one hundred percent, so you do so at your peril,” said Temple, adding a chuckle.
Masuyo said darkly, “Let’s hope additional overdoses come from those who do so, then.”
Temple tossed the gloves in a hazardous waste receptable, then led them all into a small office and closed the door. “This place is two million square feet and employs an army of people. Now, a ton of legit stuff is moved out of here as well, so as to keep up appearances and also because it’s profitable. We actually provide warehousing, delivery, and other logistical support for some of the biggest retailers in the country. We pay taxes, field local baseball and softball teams, give out scholarships, all the feel-good stuff. The community here is poor and we’re one of the biggest employers. We’re not far from the border, so we have to play everything close to the vest, but that proximity also works in our favor. We’ve built innumerable channels and methods for getting the drugs from Mexico to here. Then we work our magic packing the drugs into the products.” He opened the office door and pointed across the hall to a solid, alarmed door. “Behind that door is where all that happens. Then the products come out here, are stored, and then readied for shipping. We don’t sit on anything long. We get it in and we get it out. And we get paid.” He looked at Lord. “Your money now, Mr. Lord.”
As Temple shut the office door, Masuyo added sharply, “And mine.” Her comment drew a look of annoyance from Lord.
“Impressive operation,” said Lord.