Читать книгу Grizzly Season - S W Lauden - Страница 7
ОглавлениеChapter Two
Greg twitched and stirred. He felt the ropes rubbing against the skin on his wrists and ankles, but knew he wasn’t on the trash pile. The smell was different this time, like campfire mixed with perfume. He lifted his head to look around when somebody giggled.
The girl with the bag of honey was down at the end of his cot. She twisted a washcloth into a bucket of water. He took one look at her face and knew that she was stoned out of her mind. But her eyes were the iciest shade of blue that he had ever seen. He felt drawn in by her peaceful gaze, trapped inside of the shy smile that slowly parted her lips.
She was in her early twenties, maybe a little younger. The rough tips of her work-worn fingers gently massaged the bottom of his foot.
“Rise and shine. That tickle?”
Greg let his head drop back to the pillow as she washed him with warm water. He was almost asleep again when he heard a familiar voice.
“That’s enough for now, Ursula.”
Greg turned back to look at honey girl. She gave his toes a little peck and stood up. There was a bear paw tattoo on her left shoulder blade. He traced her spine with his eyes as she sauntered out into the cool night air.
Magnus strolled around the cot like he was lost.
“Sorry to break up your little party.”
“I’m just glad you didn’t get here until after she licked all the honey off.”
“Keep cracking jokes, if you want. Just remember that your friend isn’t exactly enjoying the same amenities that you are.”
Greg strained against the ropes, but knew it was no use.
“Is he okay?”
“For now. The bears don’t usually come until after dusk. Unless it’s trash day, of course.”
Magnus chuckled and picked at his fingernails. Greg jumped right back in: “You can’t leave him down there all night.”
“I can, and I most definitely will. It all depends on you, Greg.”
“How do you know my name?”
“We know exactly who you are. I’ve had my eye on your cabin ever since you arrived in our neck of the woods. It’s not every day we get a celebrity up here.”
Bad Citizen Corporation was the last thing that Greg wanted to talk about at the moment. But, he was willing to try anything to save Marco from being eaten alive.
“How do you know about my band?”
“What band? I was talking about those people you saved down by the beach. It was all over the local news for a few weeks.”
Magnus held a folded newspaper up for Greg to see. It was a regional rag called The SoCal Sentinel.
“I’m just screwing with you. Everybody’s probably heard of your band by now. See for yourself.”
Magnus held the newspaper up for Greg to read. The page was open to a trashy gossip column. Greg checked the date. It was weeks old.
LA Buzz: What Happened To The ‘Punk Rock Cop’?
by Leslie Thompson, Staff Reporter
According to acquaintances, Greg Salem, a Virgil Heights police officer who burst into the spotlight last year, hasn’t been heard from in months.
Salem was involved in an on-duty shooting during which he claimed the underage suspect pulled a gun. He was put on leave. The weapon in question was never recovered, but the search for it led to one of the biggest gang busts in recent years.
He was back in the spotlight two weeks later when he rescued a couple of hostages during a tense beach standoff, which left one suspect dead. But Salem, who is also a former singer of LA-based punk band Bad Citizen Corporation, hasn’t been heard from since. Is he dead, or simply hiding out? Working undercover, or writing another album?
There were another dozen paragraphs, but Greg stopped reading. He already knew how that story ended. Magnus brought the paper down with a slap.
“Like I said, you’re famous.”
“She’s got a pretty good imagination.”
“Perception is reality.”
Magnus folded his arms across his chest. He was looking up at the ceiling of the tent, deep in thought, when he went on.
“I actually used to work in the music industry myself. Did marketing for a few hair-metal bands in the eighties.”
Greg had a hard time picturing this ragged pot farmer in a corporate boardroom.
“So, why’d a marketing guy leave entertainment for agriculture?”
“Who says I left entertainment? It’s all about diversification these days.”
Greg motioned to the inside of the tent with his head.
“This isn’t exactly The Ritz, but I’m guessing you come and go when you feel like it.”
“Life’s about choices. I did my time in fancy hotels, ate at all the hip restaurants on both coasts, but I was suffocating—at and happy, like a caged animal waiting to be slaughtered. Don’t get me wrong, the money was great and there were plenty of perks. But the people? All sharks.”
“And you prefer bears.”
Magnus finally brought his gaze down to lock eyes with Greg.
“I’m always looking for the next opportunity. A man can learn a lot about himself by living out here. Speaking of which, I’ve got something to show you.”
Magnus walked over to a backpack on the ground and pulled out a piece of cloth. Greg watched as he slowly unfolded it, careful not to let it touch the ground. He was soon holding the corners of a California state flag in his outstretched hands.
“See that? It’s a grizzly bear. They used to live all over these mountains a hundred years ago. Fierce hunters. True individuals.”
“So what?”
“They were hunted to extinction. Completely wiped out. But there they are, right on the state flag. A constant lie that we perpetuate.”
“There are still plenty of black bears up here.”
“Imported from Yosemite a century ago. There’s less and less that’s native about Southern California.”
Greg smiled. Magnus was getting to the point, whatever that turned out to be.
“You and I are special, Greg. Born and raised here. Natives. Just like the grizzlies.”
“Meaning we’re almost extinct?”
“Might be unavoidable, if we don’t stop the hemorrhaging. All the transplants coming here only care about money and the weather, but they’re destroying our soul. Sure, they like their symbols. They want you to think that they’re all about individualism and freedom, but it’s not true. The minute you become a threat—BOOM—they take everything away from you.”
“So all of this is about illegal immigration?”
“To the contrary, I’ll take Mexicans, Guatemalans, Nicaraguans—anybody from south of the border—over these East Coast assholes that just keep coming like locust.”
“What’s that have to do with me and Marco? Let us go and we’ll forget this place even exists.”
“You hard of hearing from all that punk-rock crap? I’m giving you the opportunity to get in on the ground floor of something huge.”
It took Greg a moment to figure out what this whack job was driving at. A job offer was the last thing he expected. Greg tried to look like he was considering it, but his mind was only focused on getting out of there.
“Seems like you have plenty of people here who can help you out.”
“These kids? They’re strays and runaways, mostly here for the weed and sex. All they’re good for is working the fields and keeping the product moving. I need a business partner—somebody who can handle the day-to-day while I work on taking this thing to the next level.”
“Let my friend go and I’m all ears.”
Magnus stood up and lumbered over to the door. He wore a pinched expression when he turned to face Greg again, like something bored into the back of his skull.
“I’ll consider taking him out of there tonight. What happens tomorrow depends on you.”
“Can you at least untie me?”
“Not sure that’s in my best interest, but I can send one of the girls back in. That should keep your mind off of those ropes.”
Greg wasn’t up for any soulless cult sex but thought he might get some useful information out of Magnus’s harem, or at least one of them.
“Maybe just Ursula.”
“You’ll have to be more specific. They’re all called Ursula.”
The kid in the blue cap stood in the alley with a gun to Marco’s head. Giant grizzlies burst through the brick walls around them, choking the air with red dust. Greg stumbled forward, but the dirt ramp under his feet kept stretching out before him. His foot caught hold of a trip wire and he went flying through the air...
Ursula woke Greg from his bad dream with a kiss. He smelled her sweet skin, and felt her lips brushing his. He opened his eyes. She laid her head on his shoulder and caressed his cheek.
“That sounded scary. What were you dreaming about?”
“It was nothing. Just my imagination getting the best of me.”
“You were screaming about some kid in a blue hat. Who is he?”
“Nobody important.”
They spent the entire night talking, but Greg got very little information out of her. What she did share made it seem like Magnus was extremely violent and unpredictable. But maybe that’s just what Magnus told her to say.
She claimed her real name was Kristen Raines, but swore him to secrecy about it. She told him that Magnus would put her down in the pit if she responded to anything other than Ursula.
“I moved to Hollywood after high school, but things got a little out of control. Then Magnus showed up one day, about a year ago, and promised me money and weed.”
Kristen said that he’d been true to his word, but it came at a serious price. She didn’t give any specifics when he pressed her on it, except to say that a few recruits had been “sacrificed” since she arrived.
“He can be a little unpredictable, and violent.”
“Why don’t you just leave?”
“Believe me, I’ve tried. Somehow he always convinces me to stay.”
The main question she avoided all night was the one that mattered most to Greg: “Who is Magnus Ursus, really?” He knew that she might not know the answer; it was entirely possible that nobody at Grizzly Flats did.
Kristen gave his nipple a little pinch. It brought him hurtling back to the moment.
“Was the kid in the blue hat the one you shot when you were still a cop?”
There was no point in hiding it. His life had become an open book, thanks to the media. That’s the main reason he and Marco stayed living in the Angeles National Forest for so long. Greg needed everybody else to forget what had happened before he could forget it himself.
It wasn’t working so far.
“Yeah.”
“But he’s in jail, right?”
“Him and his older brother, Manny—pretty much their whole gang. For now.”
They probably could have gone on like that for the rest of the day, but Magnus came in. He had two cups of steaming hot coffee in his hands. Kristen immediately stood up to put her frumpy frontier dress on. Greg still wasn’t sure how or why he’d resisted her body the night before.
She smiled at him and slid out of the tent. Both men watched her go before Magnus got down to business.
“Coffee?”
Greg looked between his tied hands and raised an eyebrow. Magnus set the two cups down on the ground and loosened the ropes around his wrists. Greg immediately sat up. Two men were standing outside of the tent with rifles in their hands.
“What about my feet?”
“You’re fine. Drink up. Long day ahead if I’m going to get you up to speed.”
Greg reached for the cup with a tingly hand. He tried to shake the numbness away instead.
“Where’s Marco?”
“He’s safe, for now. How’d you and Ursula get along?”
Greg didn’t want him to find out that all they’d done was talk. He could only imagine what Magnus would do to her if he knew what she’d said.
“Sweet girl. Great body.”
“Lots more like her here. You can have your pick, if you play ball.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“First thing we need to do is get you dressed. Then we’ll take a little tour of the operation. But I’ll warn you, my men won’t hesitate to shoot you if you try to run.” Magnus nodded to the door, sipping at his coffee. “And if they don’t get you, the booby traps will.”
Greg drank half of his down in a single gulp.
“Almost sounds like you’re daring me.”
“Take it however you want. But even if you do get away, it’ll be much more painful for your friend.” He stood up and headed outside. “Get your feet untied and grab a uniform. I’ll give you a few minutes.”
There was a cardboard box filled with stiff blue jeans. A second box was filled with colorful plaid shirts. Greg put them on and a dusty old pair of work boots from a pile in the corner and went outside to face the day.
Magnus waited with a group of armed guards when Greg walked up. It was only eight, but the mountain air felt like a blast furnace on his face. Flies buzzed around Greg’s neck where thin streams of sweat started to form. Magnus greeted him like an old friend.
“Hot enough for you?”
“I want to see Marco.”
The familiar charm was gone, as quick as it had arrived.
“We all want something. Right now I want you to shut up and come with me.”
They started off across the camp with two guards in front and two behind. The tent that Greg was staying in stood at one end of a long row. He peeked into the other tents as they passed, noting that they all looked about the same inside. As they walked, they saw a few men and women, but the camp was mostly empty.
“Where is everybody?”
“Out in the fields. Let’s cut through here. Look familiar?”
They were back in the stadium. It seemed smaller now that Greg wasn’t so disoriented. They came out on the other side and walked by the pit. A couple sheets of plywood, held in place with broken cinderblocks, covered the hole. He wondered if some other poor bastard had replaced Marco down there, but didn’t dare ask. There were a lot of other questions he had about Grizzly Flats. It seemed smart to start with an easy one.
“What do you do with the bears when you don’t need them?”
Magnus stopped in his tracks. The same pained expression was back. He was either deeply annoyed or in terrible pain.
“Those bears aren’t trained. They’re wild.”
Greg’s stomach dropped. Magnus chuckled and pressed on. A large outcropping of cactus and rocks was just beyond the pit. It created a natural corral for housing a couple of dune buggies and a dozen or so motocross bikes. A few of Magnus’s men were working on the vehicles as Greg and Magnus walked by, but none of them looked up. Greg could see workers in the distance as he followed Magnus right up to the edge of an area the size of a football field filled with marijuana plants. It had taken less than ten minutes to tour the entire camp.
Magnus swept his arm out in front of himself.
“This is what it’s all about.”
Greg wasn’t that impressed, but decided it was best to hide that.
“Did you guys plant all of this?”
“We’ve got other fields around here, but this one’s the biggest. I bought it from some local bikers.”
“Don’t you ever worry about getting discovered?”
“Not many people come this deep into the Angeles National Forest. The few hikers that happen by don’t want any trouble, and the government doesn’t pay the Forest Service employees very well, if you know what I mean.”
“What about the sheriff’s department?”
“Everybody has a price—even people with badges—but we’ve definitely done our share of relocating.”
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 do you mean you ‘brought him here’?”
“Magnus has a few of us go down to Hollywood sometimes, to pick up new recruits. I found him up on Sunset Boulevard. last month.”
“That doesn’t make this your fault.”
“Everybody at Grizzly Flats has blood on their hands, Greg.”
“So why don’t you just leave?”
“I had my reasons, until you came along.”
She collapsed in his arms again. There were still so many questions he wanted to ask her, but he doubted she could answer right then. He sat holding her for several minutes, until she lifted her head and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.
“I have something to show you.”
Kristen went over to a bag at the foot of the cot. A map was in her hands when she sat down beside him again. He rose up onto his elbows to watch her unfold it.
“What is that?”
“A map of Grizzly Flats.”
He wanted to grab it from her hands and commit the contents to memory, but resisted the urge. This could still be some kind of twisted test orchestrated by Magnus.
“Where’d you get it?”
“I have my ways.”
She flashed an evil smile and spread the map out across his legs. The intricate lines and complicated symbols were hand drawn in pencil. The paper was worn thin in spots where it had been erased and altered several times before. There was only one person who knew the operation that well.
“Jesus, Kristen. Magnus will kill us both if he notices this is missing.”
“I’ll put it back tonight, after he’s asleep. Trust me.”
“Why should I?”
“Because I’ve got the map that’s going to get us out of here. All three of us.”
His hand was still on her shoulder as she leaned in for a kiss. Kristen took his face in her hands and bit the tip of his tongue. Whatever reservations he’d had about sleeping with her quickly evaporated in the warmth of her body. She pushed him back, running a finger down his chest. A shy smile danced across her lips as her dress fell to the floor.
She lowered herself on top of him. Their eyes were only inches apart, searching each other in the dark. He inhaled her sweet breath as she opened her mouth to speak.
“You’re the only one I can trust here anymore.”
“You don’t have to do this, for Magnus I mean—”
She shut him up with another kiss—harder this time, with greater intent. He brought his hands up onto her back to let them explore, but slowed down when he reached the bear paw tattoo. She pulled back when his hands stopped moving.
“What’s the matter?”
“You all have the same tattoo.”
“You cops don’t miss a thing, do you?”
Greg didn’t know what to make of her comment. She rolled off of him and giggled.
“It’s no big deal. Just like branding a cow, I guess.”
“Is that what you think of yourself?”
She traced the outline of his tattoos with her fingers.
“Can we maybe discuss this a little later? Seems silly to have a lover’s spat before we’re actually lovers.”
She started kissing his bicep before working her way up to his neck. It was hard for Greg to know if she was telling the truth about her feelings for him. Either way, there was no going back—at least not that night.
