Ricky nodded. “How did you get rid of them?”
“Same as we kill all pests, whether they have two legs or eight. We turn up the gas burners and create more carbon dioxide—the see-oh-two.” He pointed to the monitor. “If we crank that up to ten thousand parts per million for an hour or two, spider mites and everything else is wiped out.”
Héctor pulled from his pocket a jeweler’s loupe and handed it to Ricky.
“Check the color inside the heads of the trichomes. Almost perfect. This crop is about ready to harvest.”
Ricky nodded, made a cursory look with the magnifying glass, then handed back the loupe.
He looked him in the eyes.
“It is good, Héctor. Really good. But I came for something else. I need your help again.”
Ricky glanced at the cardboard boxes labeled “Technical Grade Sodium Hydroxide Lye Beads.”
“Another?” Héctor Ramírez said. “Just say who and when.”
Ricky Ramírez looked back at him and began: “When is right now. Who is not as simple. That is why I need your help. That woman Krystal ran to? She is . . .”
—
Five minutes later, Ricky finished, “. . . and we don’t know how to find her to get the books.”
Héctor began to laugh.
“What?” Ricky snapped, thinking he was being mocked.
“No, Ricky. But this also is simple. You have already called it.”
“Called what?”
“The halcónes. You said they want to be assassins. Then we can make them assassins.”
Ricky thought about that for a moment.
“How can they shoot this woman if we don’t know where she is?”
Héctor shook his head.
“You know where she works . . .” he began.
“But she might be there. She might not. There is no time to wait.”
“So you repeat what happened with that Krystal. You do not wait. You draw the woman out with bait. Use the girls from the home. Kill one or two to make a point. Then leave a message: ‘Another dies every day until you bring my things.’”
Ricky thought about that, then nodded. “Or every hour. That could—”
He jerked his head at the distinct sound of gunshots coming from down the street, then exchanged glances with Héctor.
Wordlessly, both men hurried toward the rear door.
—
As Ricky followed Héctor back through the first row house, with Héctor again holding his Kalashnikov, he saw the short Hispanic was leading the lookouts in through the front door.
“What happened, Jaime?” Héctor demanded.
“Tell him,” the short Hispanic said to the teenaged lookouts.