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 ones that they slept in, but much harder to spot from a distance, or overhead by plane or helicopter.
“Tell me, Greg, what do you think will happen once marijuana is totally legal and taxed?”
“It’ll become normal, I guess, like booze.”
“Right. Just like booze, and for most people that’ll be enough. But what about the people who want a little bit more?
“More what?”
“Something more thrilling than just buying a pack of joints and some pork rinds from the liquor store.”
“Street drugs?”
Magnus perked up. He spoke faster, emphasizing key points with quick hand motions.
“Yes, but nothing too serious. That won’t fly in the suburbs. Half the fun of getting high is knowing that it’s illegal, but your average consumer isn’t quite ready for serious narcotics. I’m talking about something in between. Something you can smoke like a cigarette, but with a kick. No needles or snorting. You have any idea what somatic fusion is?”
Greg was starting to wonder how soon this information was going to get him killed.
“Is that something you studied in school?”
“Among many other subjects. I must have changed my major fifty times. But this is way over my head, so I hired some pros to figure it out.”
“Figure what out, exactly?”
Magnus lifted his chin and flashed a confident smile.
“We’ve almost cracked the code on creating a marijuana and coca leaf hybrid. We’re calling it ‘Grizzly Bear’. Like the noble beast itself—totally mellow, but able to rip your head off. Catchy, right?”
Greg did a piss-poor job of feigning excitement. Magnus didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Most of the real science takes place at our state-of-the-art facility in Van Nuys. It’ll blow your mind when you get a chance to see it.”
“So why are you out here rolling around in the dirt then?”
“You have to get your hands dirty if you want to build an empire.”
The answer rolled off of Magnus’s tongue with the ease of an actor reciting a line. He didn’t miss a beat getting right back to his presentation.
“The plants I’m about to show you are strictly for field test purposes. Hope to have the first crop by next spring, if everything goes according to plan.”
Greg shook his head in disbelief.
“Cocaine is cartel territory.”
Magnus flinched, but so quickly that Greg almost missed it. Something about the word “cartel” struck a nerve with him. It might explain why he was hiding out in the mountains. Magnus recovered quickly.
“That’s the whole point. Grizzly Bear isn’t some long-term business plan; it’s my golden parachute. I just need to find a place I can test it without drawing too much attention. Once it’s perfected, I’ll sell the plants to the highest bidder and check out.”
“Sounds like a solid plan.”
“I’m just an opportunist, like everybody else in this great state. Come on. I’ll show you.”
The guards lowered their weapons and stepped out of the way. Greg and Magnus were almost inside when there was a loud explosion nearby. The original four escorts took off at a sprint toward the commotion. The remaining two trained their guns on Greg while Magnus carried on.
“What’d I tell you about the booby traps? The one that brought you here is nothing compared to some of the surprises we’ve got hidden out there. Bear stepped on a landmine last week. An ear was the biggest piece of the body we could find, and that was way up in a tree.”
Two guards returned a few minutes later, dragging a third man between them. They looked like triplets, except that the man in the middle was bloodied and battered. He could barely stand up when they pulled him to his feet and explained the situation.
“He was trying to escape. Had this with him.”
One of them handed a shredded backpack to Magnus. He opened it up and took a look inside. The disappointment that swept across his face quickly turned into pure rage. He snatched a rifle from one of the guards and broke the prisoner’s jaw with the butt. The man fell to the ground face-first and lay there groaning. Magnus stood over him, shoving the tip of the barrel into the back of his neck.
“I get your sorry ass off the streets and this is how you repay me?”
The prisoner didn’t have a chance to respond before Magnus pulled the trigger and blew his head off. Greg jumped back, but the other two guards grabbed him. His jeans were splattered in blood and his hands shook.
Magnus dropped the rifle on the corpse and turned toward camp, muttering to himself as he stomped off through the pine needles. Greg watched him go. The tour might be over for the day, but the nightmare’s just beginning.
Greg hadn’t seen Magnus since the shooting. The guards eventually took him back to his tent and told him to stay put, but didn’t tie him up. They probably assumed he wouldn’t run after what he’d just seen. Besides, he still wasn’t exactly sure where Marco was.
They brought him lunch a few hours later, and dinner around sunset—a bologna sandwich and a cup of beans both times. In between, he rifled through every box and backpack in the tent, but found nothing. It was dark outside when the guards came in again to tie him down for the night. He was so bored out of his mind by then that he went straight to sleep. Greg rolled over in the middle of the night to find that he was free. He sat up and rubbed the rope burns on his wrists. Kristen sat on the cot beside him in the dark with tears streaming down her face. She lunged for him and dug her nails into his back. Greg was still groggy and thought he might be dreaming, but managed to sit up.
“What happened?”
“They killed him.”
“Who? The guy who tried to escape today?”
She nodded and started sobbing. He brought her face up from his shoulder and tried to wipe her cheeks.
“Did you know him before you came here?”
“No. His name was Nicholas. He was just a kid… I’m the one who brought him to Grizzly Flats.”
She sat up and sniffled. Her wet eyes sparkled in the light of the lamp. Greg thought he caught a glimpse of the woman that she was supposed to become. Maybe in another lifetime.
“What