CHAPTER 82
CHAPTER
A WEEK LATER, AT AN ENORMOUS warehouse facility a few miles south of San Diego and near the Mexican border, Rhett Temple, having just landed in his private jet a half hour before, strode through a side door with several armed men.
Behind them came Connor Lord and Masuyo, who had just helicoptered in from Lord’s place in Malibu.
Lord’s security detail also accompanied them.
The inside of the building was vast. On the rear side were loading docks, where a dozen semis were loading up with the products flowing from the warehouse.
Workers scurried here and there, and forklifts rumbled over the cement floor, passing between enormous shelves rising fifty feet into the air, and all of them piled high with boxes full of merchandise.
In another section were long columns of huge refrigeration units crammed full of fruits, vegetables, and other perishables.
Lord said, “I was aware of this facility because it was part of the assets that I purchased, but I had not yet visited. From its sheer size I can see why you call it ground zero for the operation.”
Temple said, “It was actually purchased through my company, Sybaritic. I’ve been here many times over the years. In addition to fentanyl and other synthetic opioids, your daughter, Ms. Steers, trafficked in the more traditional contraband. LSD, heroin, coke, crack, GHB, and Ecstasy. And meth.”
Temple led Lord and Masuyo over to a stack of watermelons. He pulled one off the top, asked one of his security detail for a knife, slit the watermelon open, and laid the two halves on a work table.
Temple put on a double pair of nitrile gloves.
“This watermelon has already been cut open. But then it was resealed so meticulously with a process we developed that no one could ever tell.” He pried out a dark seed.
“That’s actually an Ecstasy pill. All the seeds are.
We also put in GHB, fentanyl, pills laced with heroin, LSD.
Don’t think even the drug-sniffing dogs can ferret this out. ”
He next led them over to one of the warehouse shelves.
He pulled off a box and opened it, revealing rolls of toilet paper.
He unwrapped one roll and undid the toilet paper.
“You can’t really see it, but there’s coke laced throughout the paper.
We tried stuffing packs of pills and powder into the cardboard holder, but the cops figured that one out. ”
They followed him to another shelf full of boxes.
He opened one and pulled out a bottle of perfume. From another box he lifted out a can of mineral water.
“Liquid meth is in both of these. When they get to where they’re going the meth will be extracted from the perfume and the water.”
“And does anyone actually drink the water after that or use the perfume?” asked a smiling Lord.
“Well, the extraction process is not one hundred percent, so you do so at your peril,” said Temple, adding a chuckle.
Masuyo said darkly, “Let’s hope additional overdoses come from those who do so, then.”
Temple tossed the gloves in a hazardous waste receptable, then led them all into a small office and closed the door.
“This place is two million square feet and employs an army of people. Now, a ton of legit stuff is moved out of here as well, so as to keep up appearances and also because it’s profitable.
We actually provide warehousing, delivery, and other logistical support for some of the biggest retailers in the country.
We pay taxes, field local baseball and softball teams, give out scholarships, all the feel-good stuff.
The community here is poor and we’re one of the biggest employers.
We’re not far from the border, so we have to play everything close to the vest, but that proximity also works in our favor.
We’ve built innumerable channels and methods for getting the drugs from Mexico to here.
Then we work our magic packing the drugs into the products.
” He opened the office door and pointed across the hall to a solid, alarmed door.
“Behind that door is where all that happens. Then the products come out here, are stored, and then readied for shipping. We don’t sit on anything long.
We get it in and we get it out. And we get paid.
” He looked at Lord. “Your money now, Mr. Lord.”
As Temple shut the office door, Masuyo added sharply, “And mine.” Her comment drew a look of annoyance from Lord.
“Impressive operation,” said Lord.
“It was one of the first projects I worked on when I became associated with Steers. This is the main location for moving her entire product into the U.S. I’ve been here so many times over the years I’ve come to know just about everyone who works here. A good crew. They work hard.”
Masuyo said, “They will need to learn to work harder.”
This comment drew another scowl from Lord.
Temple said, “The workers here really are top-dollar and loyal as they come, ma’am. When I visit I hand out cash to them for a job well done.”
Masuyo looked at him with a patronizing expression. “You clearly have a different management style than I do.”
Lord said sharply, “Well, his method appears to have worked remarkably well.”
Masuyo would not even look at him. She kept her pursed lips and stern gaze pointed at Temple.
Lord said, “I compliment you on your approach, Mr. Temple.” He paused, his eyes dancing with anticipation. “And now, I have a little surprise for you.”
Temple did not look happy. “Surprise? I’m not really into surprises.”
“Oh, you’re going to love this one.”
He nodded at two of his security detail, who hurried off.
A minute later they brought back to the office two people whose hands were shackled and who had hoods over their heads.
“Who’s this?” asked Temple nervously.
On a nod from Lord the men swept the hoods off, revealing Walter Nash and Victoria Steers with gags in their mouths.