Shane said, “Maybe we got the day wrong. Maybe it’s tomorrow.”
Flynn said, “We’ll know when dawn breaks. Until then, we stay.”
Shane said nothing else, glad that at least he had the shelter of the van. The other members of the club had ridden motorcycles, exposed to the nighttime cold of the Utah high desert.
There were three of them lounging on the ground outside the van, all waiting on the call and each with his own mission. One to draw a set ofStinger spike strips across the road, and two to chase down the car on their motorcycles, neutralizing any threats inside once the strip had done its damage to the tires. Shane and Flynn would follow in the van for the transfer of their target.
Shane said, “How much are we getting for this?”
Flynn said, “It’s more of a trade. We tote this guy across the border to the Jalisco boys, and the guys I’m working with will pay us street value for a load of apache. We don’t need to distribute or anything. Just get the load across.”
“What’s Jalisco want with this guy? He a cartel big wig or something? Like El Chapo?”
“No. He’s an Arab, from what I know. He’s not even in the system. The government has had him for ten years.”
“An Arab? Like a terrorist?”
Flynn grew aggravated, saying, “I didn’t ask for his rap sheet. I was asked to help and made the deal.”
Knowing he was risking Flynn’s temper, Shane pressed ahead anyway, saying, “Who asked for the help?”
“California.”
Shane knew that meant the Hells Angels headquarters. He said, “What’s Jalisco want with an Arab?”
“They’re just facilitating. It’s another group. A broker from Europe. Same guys who are buying the apache.”
That perked Shane up. He’d worked meth and fentanyl, but only at the local level. He’d never dealt with anything greater than a middleman in Salt Lake City, and here was Flynn talking about a “broker” in Europe.
“Europe, huh? How’d you find those guys?”
“How do you think? Hells Angels chapters in Germany had worked with them before. Actually did some hits for them. They talked to California and brokered the deal. Since there aren’t any chapters in Utah—yet—California asked for my help.”
That was beyond Shane’s imagination, a term out of the movies that he’d never considered real. “Hits? Like killing someone? For money?”
Flynn’s mouth curled into a grin at Shane’s amazement. He said, “You got a problem with killing, Pinky?”
“Hell no. I got my ace of spades patch. Just never did it for hire. Never even heard of it for real, outside of sicarios down south.”
“Well, they did it. Or tried to do it. I don’t know, but the guys in Europe paid well either way for those taskings, and they’re going to pay well for ours.”
“So this guy’s getting smoked? Is he working with the DEA or something?”
“No idea who he worked for, but he’s not getting smoked by us. They asked for him alive.”
“Maybe they’re going to make him suffer in person. Those Jalisco guys are loco.”
Irritated, Flynn said, “Doesn’t matter either way. We’re getting paid to deliver him. That’s all. What they do after is their business.”
Shane sat in silence for a moment, then said, “So they’re buying a load of apache at street value? All we have to do is our usual with Jalisco and then turn over the entire load to them?”
“Yeah. That’s it. Like I said, this little side trip is well worth it. We’ll have a year’s worth of profit from one trip. Enough to stake whatever we want to do with the chapter. Buy a headquarters, show California we’re ready to roll.”
“A year’s worth? How much fentanyl are they willing to buy?”
“A tanker truck full.”
“Tanker truck? An entire tanker truck? You’re shitting me. That’s enough apache to serve the West Coast.”
