“What if his information is incorrect?”
“We can always rescind.”
“So I’m sticking my neck out without proof positive.”
“Look, Dad, proof positive or not, I believe the guy. Now I understand the subtext.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
We were in his office at the County Courthouse. His spirits were high. He had taken to putting time in at the office every few days or so. He didn’t do a whole lot other than sit around and swap stories with the staff. Mostly his stories.
He made every effort to maintain the illusion that his health was improving, but occasionally he slipped up and opened the window to a crack in his armor.
My sister, Sandra, and her six-year-old daughter, Savannah, had recently come west for a weekend with the old man. Never a big fan of children, our father nevertheless made all the right noises regarding his love for the girl. He went so far as to play cards with her. Even read to her.
But when Savannah threw one of her legendary tantrums, it rankled him. Unable to calm her, he lost it himself. He yelled, which scared the daylights out of her. He raised his hand as if to hit her.
She glared at him and between tears, screamed, “I hate you. You’re a mean old man. I want to go home.”
To her mother who, along with our stepmother, Regina, had raced to her side, Savannah kept right on screaming. It took every ounce of Sandra’s patience to calm her.
By the time she did, my father had long since fled the scene and had locked himself in his bedroom. “I don’t know what came over me, Buddy,” he exclaimed solemnly. “It’s this fucking illness. I’m not myself.”
“It’s all right, Dad. She’ll get over it.”
“Yes, but will I?” he lamented.
“If Smernik is right,” I said. “We’re dealing with a federal offense.”
“For which you’ll need to involve the FBI.”
“Ultimately.”
“What more do you need?”
“Proof.”
I stood and began pacing his oversized office with its floor-to-ceiling steel and glass windows that offered views of Freedom Township, the Santa Ynez Mountains to the north and the glistening Pacific to the west.
“I’m uncertain,” I said.
“About?”
“How to verify Smernik’s claim. Which we need to do before summoning the cavalry. “
“The choices?”
“A flat-out raid on the mansion.”
“In search of the so-called fentanyl lab.”
“Yes.”
“And choice B.”
“We lay in wait for the arrival of the boats.”
“And catch them dead to rights loading the shit onto them.”
“Something like that.”
“Which do you prefer?”
“Would that I knew.”
“You in the market for a little advice?”
“Why do you think I’m here?”
“At first I thought you might want to hear a few of my stories.”
“I’d sooner sit through every Matthew McConaughey movie.”
“Do what you think is best.”
“That’s the advice?”
“And rendered free of charge.”
I stared at him. “That’s what you would do?”
He thought for several moments.”Likely, I’d prepare to do both.”
“Both at the same time?”
“Yes.”
“What would be the deciding factor?”
“Resistance.”
“From Petrov’s troops?”
“Yes.”
“So where would you start?”
“Wherever the odds were in my favor.”
“And you’d decide that when?”
“When I knew for certain that the boats would arrive.”
“You mean you’d wait it out.”
“Yes.”
“And then decide.”
“Yes,” the Sheriff said. “And keep in mind that however it goes down, it’s going to be a bitch.”
“But you think it’s the right thing to do?”
“One way or the other.”
“Meaning?”
“Look, it’s your deal, Buddy. You own it. But it’s dicey. This so-called Fentanyl lab might not exist at all. Or it could be dismantled in an instant. Until you actually eyeball it, it’s nothing more than the word of a snitch who’s seeking asylum. You can’t really tip your hand regarding the boats. You can’t put an armada in their way. They’d freak and be gone in an instant.
“So there’s very little to work with here. I suppose you could share the info with the FBI, but with no proof, there’s the distinct possibility you could be standing alone with your dick in your hand. There’s nothing easy or predictable in this. You’re forced to take your chances. You make the first move and pray it’s the right one.”
“Or?”
“You take a victory lap regarding the right of access issue.”
“And?”
“You look the other way.”
“Meaning I leave them alone to carry on whatever subterfuge it is they’re practicing.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t do that.”
“So, then, you mount your challenge, you catch them by surprise, and with luck, you take the whole operation down.”
“So in other words, do what I think is best.”
“Which is one fine piece of excellent advice, if I say so myself.”