ack of marijuana buds.
Lopez sniffed the open bag and smiled. “Some good shit here.” He pulled out a large roll of pesos and paid them, then he passed out smaller denominations to the children, much to their delight.
Holland said to Riffey, “Tell them we would like to camp at the far end of the valley. Buy food from them, be free with your money for drinks, and tell them we will talk tomorrow about what the cost will be for their entire crop.”
“Sure thing, Boss.” He and Guereca talked to a dozen of the men and women, and all nodded heads in affirmation. For them, in this remote place, the money to be paid was a huge windfall.
Riffey drove the Bronco to the far end of the canyon and started to stop when Holland said, “Take it to that bench up there.” He pointed to another ridgeline some sixty feet higher. Riffey sighed and maneuvered the vehicle in a bouncing, lurching climb up to the ridge and stopped in the level grade.
Riffey got out and stretched his back. “Man, I’m glad I don’t have to drive a foot further.”
Guereca grinned, “So are we. I guarantee you one thing, you’re not gonna be nominated for Driver of the Year, gringo.”
“Oh yeah? I’d like to see you do as good.”
Lopez stepped beside Guereca, “Walk softly, Riffey. We’re all a little tired here.”
Holland said, “Food and refreshments are coming. All of you relax. Any more dissention and you will answer to me. Understood?” They nodded. Riffey walked away and sat on a fractured boulder shaped like a huge chair.
The village women and children brought hot food, fresh from their cooking fires, and the children lugged wet flour sacks of beer, and bottles of cheap tequila. Lopez paid them and they all left happy. Several of the children hung around to watch the men, until Holland told Guereca to make them leave. He slipped them more money and the children reluctantly walked back to the village.
The men ate a spicy meal of tender cabrito, beans, squash, and sweet, fried bananas. The corn tortillas were so tender that Riffey swore they melted in his mouth. The beer, only as cold as the river, went fast. Then they each took a bottle of tequila and sipped as the night fell.
Riffey built a large fire of dead pine branches gathered from the hillside. A short time later, three of the village men climbed the ridge and talked to Lopez and Guereca for some time. At the end, all of them shook hands and the men left after leaving another paper sack of marijuana buds so ripe that the fine hairs on the plants glistened with resin. Riffey rolled his smoke and sat on the ground near the fire. Nights up this high, even in summer, could get cool.
Holland was the only one who neither drank nor smoked. He didn’t look at the fire, either, and Riffey felt nervous about that, because he knew Holland was saving his night vision, and Riffey didn’t know if it was so he could kill them all in their sleep. There were rumors about Holland doing just that to his entire fire team when he was in the Ukraine.
Riffey took another deep inhale, held it in his lungs, then let it out in a slow, ten second exhale. He followed that with a sip of tequila and felt the warm buzz relax him. When he glanced beyond the fire, Holland was looking at him.
Holland motioned him to come. Riffey carried the tequila bottle with him and took a swig before squatting Indian-style. Holland said, “At 5AM, take your rifle and go to the far end of the valley to wait for the test.”
“Wait for what? What am I supposed to do?”
Holland ate a small bite of goat meat on a corn tortilla. “You will know when the time comes.”
“How about filling me in on this test? That way I can be prepared.”
“It is a very small test. Nothing much to it. You will report on what you see, accurately, and that is why it is important for you to be there.”
“Why not Lopez or Guereca?”
“They do not have your skill to describe events. I want the best I have to observe and report. That is you.” Holland placed his hand on Riffey’s shoulder, “I am hard on you at times, Floyd, but it is because I see great potential in you. There is no one I respect more in our group.”
Riffey was flattered by the unexpected praise. “You bet, Boss. I’ll be down there at 5AM sharp.”
“Good. I am depending on you.”
At 5AM, Holland told Guereca to bring the small tank from the Bronco and place it on the canyon floor below their position. “Make sure you brace it so it does not fly about when we release the pressure.”
“Leave the open side toward the village, right?”
“Yes. When you have it secure, go to the vehicle and retrieve the other materials.”
Guereca said, “Riffey left early this morning. Does he know what’s going to happen?”
“He will know soon enough.” That caused a small laugh from Guereca, who descended to the valley floor and had the tank firmly braced and was back beside Holland in less than five minutes.
The morning sky lightened, even though the sun had not risen above the surrounding mountains. Holland opened the metal suitcase and handed Guereca one glass dowel with the brushy fiberglass tip, and the glass container. Holland said, “Dip the applicator slowly into the liquid, and do not drip any on you as you apply the material to the tanks. Apply it exactly as I told you. Are there any questions?”