Tin Man

by Dale Brown

  , but I disagree," Chief Barona interjected. "I

  don't think it's necessary to get a lot of federal agencies

  involved quite yet, and certainly not the National

  Guard. At least not until we're sure what

  we're up against."

  Almost everyone in the room looked at Barona in

  surprise-the most surprised of them the: head of

  SID, Tom Chandler. He was ready to speak up but

  Servantez beat him to it: "Excuse me, Chief?"

  Servantez exclaimed. "You don't want any help in

  responding to this situation? Did you hear the same

  briefing I did?"

  "Of course, Mr. Mayor," Barona said. "But we

  shouldn't bring in a lot of unnecessary outside help

  until we're sure exactly what we're up against and

  what we need."

  "We could use help on the investigation of those

  explosions, Chief," Chandler said. "We usually call

  Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms on any explosives

  investigations."

  "Only for bomb explosions, Captain, not lab explosions

  ," Barona said. "We have four narcoticsinvestigation

  teams and four explosions. We can

  handle our own emergencies."

  The various officials began to talk urgently

  among themselves, and Chandler took advantage of

  the break to go over to Barona. Kneeling behind

  him, he whispered, "Chief, my teams are already up

  to their eyeballs in cases-we have half as many

  guys in SID as we did just three years ago. Plus

  some of the teams out working these explosions are

  federal or state grant positions-they're already

  committed to other projects outside the division

  "I'm recalling them-they stay on the investigations

  , Captain," Barona said. "Besides, if these explosions

  did wipe out a bunch of drug gangs, your

  division's caseload probably took a big cut."

  "But we also usually request help from BNE and

  nearby counties with big cases," Chandler argued,

  "and they're so swamped too that it's not likely

  we're going to get any help from them. The feds and

  the National Guard would help . . .

  "I am not going to go to the governor and request

  that he send troops onto the streets of Sacramento

  with M- I 6s to do something that your units shotuild

  be able to handle well enough on their own,"

  Barona snapped sotto voce. "I won't give the bastard

  the satisfaction. That's all. Sit down."

  Chandler returned to his seat, taking a deep

  breath to try to mask his,feelings. He hated to go

  along blindly with the rumor mill or the department

  gossipmongers, but the only possible explanation

  he could fathom for why Barona would refuse

  outside help was that he didn't want to spoil his

  political aspirations by appearing not to be in full

  control.

  The meeting pulled itself back to order. "That's

  well and good for you, Arthur," the Sacramento

  County sheriff said wryly, picking up on Barona's

  last statement, "but I've only got three narcoticsinvestigation

  teams to investigate six lab explosions

  . I could use the help." To the head table he

  said, "I'd like to put in a request for state Bureau of

  Narcotics Enforcement narcotics investigators, ATF

  hazardous-materials investigators, and FBI crimescene

  investigator support, ma'am. As many as we

  can get, as soon as we can get them. And if the National

  Guard has any HAZMAT-qualified engineer

  units handy, we could use them to help in the

  cleanup too."

  I/1/11 put in the request, and I'll mark it 'urgent,"'

  Chairman Adams said, making a note and passing it

  along to her staff. "Mr. Servantez, if you want to

  amend my request, you're welcome to do so. Might

  save you a little time." When she noticed Barona's

  icy glare and saw Servantez's hesitation, she leaned

  over to the mayor so Barona couldn't hear. "It could

  cause a problem, Edward," she said in a low voice.

  "The governor might be reluctant to call out the

  Guard if one government agency asks but another

  doesn't. We should be united on this."

  "I've got to back up my chief of police and my

  city council, Madeleine," Servantez answered.

  "Calling in the Guard and the federal agencies takes

  control of the emergency out of our hands-we bum

  resources but we don't get any benefit from it. We

  can ask for plenty of free advice, but I prefer to wait

  and see exactly what we'll need before we push the

  panic button."

  III think you're wrong, Edward," Adams said.

  "Put your name on the request and let's get a handle

  on this thing early. A little more force on the streets

  will be much better than too little and having this

  crisis reignite. I'm sure your chief is competent, but

  let's not get pride--or arrogance-in the way of handling

  this emergency."

  Servantez nodded reluctantly. Avoiding Barona's

  accusing glare, he said, "After consulting with

  Chairman Adams, in the spirit of cooperation and

  conservation of resources, I recommend that the

  city join the county in asking the governor for assistance

  from the National Guard and assistance from

  state and federal investigation agencies."

  Tom Chandler breathed a sigh of relief, thankful

  that Servantez kept his backbone straight on this

  one. Barona was as mad as a wet hen. Well, screw

  him. He'd be proclaiming how great he was right up

  until the time the gang-bangers and anarchists

  kicked open his office door.

  In any case, Chandler knew his troops and the

  entire force would be running full bore for the next

  few weeks.

  WILTON, SOUTH SACRAMENTO COUNTY,

  CALIFORNIA

  LATER THAT DAY

  nless Townsend or one of the others needed him

  for something, Bennie the Chef usually slept in

  until noon. It had been a very late night, and he had

  every intention of letting his growling stomach

  awaken him whenever. But for, some reason he'd

  woken up early, and something made him get up

  and flip on the TV around seven A.M. What he saw

  horrified him. Meth-lab explosions. Dozens of

  them. Huge explosions, killing enormous numbers

  of people and damaging or destroying entire city

  blocks.

  It could only be his portable hydrogenators, Bennie

  thought. The explosive power of one of those

  units was tremendous. And he realized the location

  of each explosion corresponded to a Satan's Brotherhood

  chapter site-the exact places that Townsend

  was going to send each unit.

  Bennie got in his car and drove to the ranch of the

  Aryan Brigade brain trust in Wilton. Throughout

  the drive he listened to his car radio broadcasting

  reports of the explosions all around the state-it reminded

  him of the news coverage of the Persian

  Gulf War, when that too took over the radio. The

  devastation caused by the explosions was enormous
>
  . It was no wonder. Nine cubic feet of hydrogen

  gas mixed with oxygen and detonated with a

  spark was enough to blow up a two-story house. Put

  in enough hydrogen gas under forty psi of pressure,

  and the explosive effect was multiplied forty times.

  The steel hydrogenation unit would contain some

  of the blast, but the net effect would be similar to a

  four- or five-thousand-pound bomb.

  He found Townsend, Reingruber, and several of

  the organization's top sergeants conducting firearms

  training in one of the wooden barns. Townsend's

  weapon of choice was a small 9-millimeter

  Calico automatic, a short, sleek pistol with a huge

  cylindrical ammo drum on top. Townsend seemed

  adept at shooting it either one- or two-handed, with

  either hand, on full-auto or single-shot.

  "What happened?" Bennie shouted as the guards

  let him approach. Townsend ignored him. Forgetting

  who he was dealing with in his agitation, Bennie

  grabbed Townsend by the shoulder. "I asked

  you, what happened, Townsend?"

  Gregory Townsend shrugged off the hand

  without turning around and finished his target practice--only

  one round went astray with the distraction

  ; the others were dead-on-then removed his

  eye protection and ear defenders. "We didn't expect

  you up so early, Bennie. I had a driver arranged to

  pick you up later."

  For a moment Bennie was relieved-Townsend

  didn't appear to be blaming him for the explosions.

  Then he felt scared, for exactly the same reason. If

  Townsend wasn't angry or upset about the explosions

  , then he must've known about them all along.

  He looked at Townsend in horror. "You planned

  this?"

  Townsend unclipped the cylindrical drum from

  the top of his weapon, clipped a fresh one in its

  place, and said coolly, "We had two strikes against

  us from the very beginning, Bennie: We were dealK

  ing with drugs, and we were dealing with the Satan's

  Brotherhood. Yes, there's lots of money in

  manufacturing and selling illegal drugs, but the people

  you deal with in the drug business-very unsavory

  characters."

  Talk about ironic, Bennie thought grimlyGregory

  Townsend calling the Satan's Brotherhood

  unsavory.

  "Did you know that four of my men were killed

  and one seriously wounded when the Brotherhood's

  chapter members turned on them while they were

  delivering the hydrogenators?" Townsend went on.

  "I abhor anyone who cannot stick to his part of a

  bargain. Major Reingruber and his men are going to

  hunt down the surviving Brotherhood members and

  teach them a lesson."

  "You didn't expect some of the Brotherhood to

  try to rip you off? " Bennie asked incredulously.

  "You blew up all the hydrogenators and wasted a

  chame to make hundreds of thousands of dollars a

  day because a few, -of - the chapter guys killed your

  troops?

  "Of course not, Bennie," Townsend replied. "I

  was going to kill them all anyway." The way he said

  it, so casual and so businesslike, made the hairs

  stand up on the back of Bennie's scrawny neck,

  "Actually, I was quite relieved that the death toll on

  our side was so small. We were at a considerable

  disadvantage." Townsend smiled at the shock on

  his face. "Bennie, you're an intelligent man. Tell

  me: What would have happened to the price of

  methamphetamine in the state of California if there

  were over a thousand extra pounds of pure uncut

  meth on the street per day? That would equate to

  approximately one hundred thousand pounds of cut

  meth each day."

  "The price would drop," Bennie said.

  "'Plummet' is the term you Americans use, I believe

  ."

  "But so what?" Bennie asked. "Your deal with

  the Brotherhood was a thousand dollars per pound

  produced, no matter what the street price was."

  "But if the street price dropped to, say, two thousand

  dollars a pound rather than eight to ten thousand

  dollars," Townsend asked, "what do you think

  the Brotherhood's reaction would be?"

  "They'd . . . they'd try to renegotiate the deal."

  "Bennie, Bennie, please don't delude yourself like

  this, not with me," Townsend scolded him. "You

  know as well as I that the Brotherhood would first

  renege on the deal, then go to war with us to try to

  cancel it-by killing every last one of us and keeping

  the hydrogenators for themselves. It was a nowin

  situation for us right from the start, Bennie. But

  now answer this: Has California's appetite for

  methamphetamine been affected by these explosions

  ?"

  "Hell no. Why should it?"

  "Precisely," Townsend said. "So with the market

  for methamphetamine the same, and with almost

  every Satan's Brotherhood chapter in the state of

  California closed or substantially downsized, shall

  we say, and with the surviving members scattered

  or eventually hunted down by Major Reingruber

  and his men, what do you suppose will happen to

  the price of a pound of methamphetamine that

  makes it to the street now?" There was a glimmer

  in Bennie's eyes as he answered the question in his

  head, and Townsend saw it.

  "So you have your answer, Bennie. Now, as we

  all know, the Me:kicans and those remaining in the

  biker gangs will rush to fill the void left by the Satan's

  Brotherhood," Townsend pointed out. "So the

  window of opportunity for whoever becomes California's

  premier meth cooker would be very small,

  although incredibly lucrative. After a period of

  time, however, the battle for control of the meth

  trade in the West will heat up all over again. Meth

  cookers will be killing each other over a few dollars

  or a few ounces of white crystals. That will be the

  time to pack up and take our leave."

  "I don't get it," Bennie said, shaking his head.

  "Are you offering me the meth dealership?"

  "I am offering you much more than that,"

  Townsend said. "I'm offering you protection and

  distribution assistance as well."

  "All for the price of

  "Just three thousand dollars a pound, plus chemicals

  at our cost plus ten percent," Townsend said.

  "For a substance that can sell from between ten and

  thirty thousand dollars a pound or more, I think it's

  an offer too good to pass up."

  "Three thousand a pound? Why so little?" Bennie

  asked. "It's worth two or three times that much."

  "It is more important for us that we maintain a

  good working relationship with you, Bennie,"

  Townsend said with an expression that made the

  little hairs on the back of Bennie's neck stand up all

  over again. "Frankly speaking, you know quite a bit

  about my organization and recent activities. Since

  killing you would be akin to killing the
golden

  goose, as it were, I find it better to deal fairly with

  you rather than go to war. Do we have a deal?"

  "I can cook anything I want, anywhere, anytime

  ?"

  "Supervised by my men, yes," Townsend said. "I

  presume you are not planning to use the hydrogenation

  method to produce methamphetamine this

  time?"

  "Hell no," Bennie said. "The law will be all over

  the dude who tries to buy thionyl chloride or a tank

  of hydrogen now. If I can get my hands on some

  five-gallon drums of phosphorus-3-iodide, some

  condensers, and what's left of the ephedrine that's

  stored out here, I can whip up a couple of dozen

  pounds in one day. We can restart thionyl chloride

  synthesization later, when the heat subsides."

  "Do you need a hydrogenator or special apparatus

  for this method7"

  "Nope-just the phosphorus, the ephedrin ,

  some water, and a condensing unit," Bennie replied.

  "It's a faster and much safer process than hydrogenation

  , but it produces forty percent less meth for the

  same cost. But if the street price for meth takes a

  jump like I think it will, it'll be worth it. This

  would give us a nest egg to set up a few more labs in

  just a couple of weeks."

  "Very well," Townsend said. "But we must be

  very careful now. I am not so naive as to think that

  our headquarters, labs, warehouses, and meeting

  places are free from police scrutiny. I must assume

  that the ranch and the dozen or so other properties I

  own throughout the state are under some kind of

  surveillance. I've been fortunate thus far in not encountering

  any police interrogations, but after this

  past night all bets are off.

  "The police may receive some special powers to

  arrest or conduct investigations in the interest of

  public safety-but more likely, they'll simply barge

  in wherever they like and the Constitution be

  damned," Townsend went on. "You are a known

  methamphetamine cooker. Almost thirty meth labs

  just blew up all across the state. The police will

  want to question you. We want to try to avoid all

  official inquiries on us at this point. If the police

  find a connection between you, us, and our two

  men who were just released from custody, and tie

  us in to the downtown Sacramento shootings, our