honest to God. Scotty, he’s the guy set all this up, I swear! I don’t even know that much about it, man. Scotty asked me if I wanted to help out—we’re all on the same shift in the warehouse, so we all had to be in it. That’s all I know about anything, I swear!” He told why Martin and Tony killed Chris. “They wanted to keep you people out of the factory. Nobody brings no shit in, you know?”
“Why?”
Eddie sighed and looked around at the gray dirt of the road, the chain-link fence with its scrolled crest of gleaming razor wire, the empty tangle of weeds and brush at the riverbank. The only humans in sight were the two big men who stared at him as if he were something on a shoe to be wiped away. “We got a thing going there. I really don’t know that much about it. All I know is, every now and then Scotty says there’s a shipment, and me and Johnny Atencio help him move the stuff.”
It took a while. Every time Eddie slowed down, Bunch tapped the piano wire against his neck. That made the words come again. Once or twice each month, Martin, Atencio, and Visser would gather in a corner of the warehouse to unpack a shipping canister and find several kilos of cocaine hidden in the Styrofoam bracing around a molded plastic unit. Visser had no idea how Martin knew which container held the shipment, and he wasn’t about to ask. “It’s not my business to know, man. Me and Johnny, we’re just the mules in this, you know?” They took their shares and stored the rest in their lockers for a few days. “Scotty’s got a touch in with the security people—some body tips him if there’s going to be a locker shakedown. If there is, we take the stuff out. Take it to one of these storage rentals. It gets broken down into smaller wraps—usually four, sometimes five or six. Scotty tells us how many it’s supposed to be. But I don’t know who tells him.”
“What do you do with it?”
“Ship it out in some other canisters. Scotty takes care of that. He knows what canisters are going where. He tapes the load into the Styrofoam packing and off it goes.”
“Where to?”
“I don’t know, man. Really. Scotty’s the only one who knows. It goes to the company’s wholesale outlets, but which ones I don’t know.”
“You make a good piece of change off this?” Bunch asked.
“We get a cut. When a shipment comes in, Scotty divvies it up and we take ours before we repack it. But no selling in the factory, Scotty says. We got our own customers away from the factory. That’s the rule. He don’t want management to think they got to run searches for dope all the time. You know: lockers, cars, whatever… . That’s why he got so uptight when he heard about you people wanting to sell in the plant. That, and it’s his territory.”
“His and Tony’s?”
“Yeah. I guess. It’s a big operation, you know? But I swear to God—I swear on my mother’s soul—I didn’t know what Scotty and Tony were going to do to that kid. He said him and Tony was going to ask him about you people. That’s all he told me. He didn’t even want me to come along. Just him and this guy Tony.”
Visser told them a little more about Martin—where the man lived, where he liked to drink, who he hung out with. “We don’t pal around a lot, you know? Me and Johnny are on the same crew, so he had to take us in. You can’t handle them canisters by yourself, you know?”
“You never meet outside the plant?”
“Just a drink now and then to unwind. Scotty, he don’t let people get close to him.” He added, “And if we have to take stuff out to a storage locker.”
“Where’s this Tony from?”
“I told you—back east somewhere. That’s all I know. I swear. I only saw him a couple times.”
“When?”
“At the meet with you guys. He drove. And … .” He chewed his lip.
“When?”
“Day before yesterday. He wanted me to talk to the kid.”
“To set him up.”
“I didn’t know what they were going to
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