The Invisible Hand - A crime novel

Chapter 48

                 

I smell it now. The meth. It's cooking in a trailer beyond the bathrooms. Way out on the prairie by itself. Painted a muddy tan. Just like Les's trucks.

The scrawny guy insists we "trash it." Meaning we pick up the piles of shit around it. Not knock it over.

Which I wouldn't mind. Farmers around here, they keep loads of anhydrous ammonia. It's a key ingredient for large-scale meth operations. Dopers used to knock 'em off left and right.

Volume labs aren't popular anymore. Now it's all about the small batches, the shake-and-bake method. Meth lab in a bottle.

I've seen it done before. A farmer paid me to check out a squatter. Just a car parked in his field with a guy inside. Turned out to be a mobile meth lab.

I watched the shithead make it. Forced him, actually. I was the one with the hatchet. He was the one missing brain cells. Had him explain the process to me.

It starts with a standard soda pop bottle. Then you throw in some crushed up cold medicine. Pieces of the metal strip inside an AA battery. The pellets from a cold pack. Drain cleaner. Lighter fluid. Some other crazy shit. Add a drop of water to kick off a chemical reaction. Give it a shake and let it bake.

Let the fumes out every now and then. The batch is done when the metal strips turn a copper color. Pour the mix through a coffee filter.

Bingo. Meth.

I asked him about his buyers. Told me oil workers. He considers himself an essential part of the boom. Helps the workers keep at it for long, hard rig shifts.

I busted the fucker's nose right then and there. Because no one needs to be doing meth.

"Can't snort your shit now, can you?" I said. Only later did I learn about the needles.

I left him in his underwear to freeze on the prairie. Drove his car to the bar in Betrug. Got loaded in the proper fashion. Then wrapped the car around a tree.

So I know a bit about Satan's snowflakes. This trailer here. The one we're picking up trash around. It's hot with ice. I can tell.

Dots are connecting in my head. About how Les makes his money in the Man Camp. And how the oil companies must be quietly benefitting from it.

But there's another dot I'm worried about. It's on the end of that scrawny guy's shotgun. So I keep quiet about the meth. Not that I need to say anything to Sam. She's sharp enough to know what's up here.

The trash we pick up is nasty shit. Piles of whatnot soaked in cat pee stench. Bottles of this. Containers of that. Filters. Hoses. Tanks. Tubes. And one teddy bear.

Seriously, how fucked up is that?

Not sure why they even care if it's picked up. Not like much effort went into proper disposal anyway. Maybe they ran out of room inside. Or want to keep up appearances.

We burn through dozens of black trash bags. And I mean burn. Some of the bags just melt. We pick the shit up again. Wear thick gloves. Face masks. Triple-bag it.

The scrawny guy watches all the while. Keeps sticking a pinkie in that baggie.

My hands start to tingle. The work gloves are thick. Doesn't matter. This trash is toxic. Sam starts to cough. The mess is getting to her, too.

We use up the last of the bags. There's still plenty of filth around the trailer. I don't plan on finishing.

I turn to the scrawny guy.

"Hey, we're done here," I say. "Outta trash bags."

Sam tosses her gloves into an overflowing bag. Good idea. I follow suit. Don't want to re-contaminate myself.

"Yeah? Well, so is the whole damn camp," the scrawny guy says. Digs in his pocket. Pulls out a roll of cash. Thrusts it out. "Go on. Take it. Get into town. Buy some more trash bags. Get a lot if you can."

I hesitate. Not used to money just being handed out.

I start walking to the scrawny guy. He shakes his head. Pulls the money back.

"Nah, boy. This is for the lady," the scrawny guy says. Wags the bills at her. "Come here, girl. Take it."

My eyes meet Sam's. She's stuck in place.

"Come on then," the scrawny guy says. "Keep the change for all I care."

"You trust us to go into town?" Sam says. "What if we take the money and don't come back?"

"There's so much money around here, it's damn near worthless. It's the goods, like trash bags, that matter. People, they're replaceable. Even you, honey," the scrawny guy says.

Sam walks to the scrawny guy. Plucks the money from his hand. Just as she pulls away, the scrawny guy grabs her wrist.

"You and me could have fun," the scrawny guy says. Releases her wrist before she can respond.

Sam pockets the money. Her expression cuts him in half.

"Give me the chance again," she says. "I'll show you fun."

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