“McFarland?”
“Town north of here.” The man went back to watching the race.
Same deal as Pahrump. Nitro Fuel at a track, but no cars that need it. He took out his phone and tricked Nicky Velasco again.
Still no answer. Nicky always kept that burner close, in his experience. That was worrisome.
He had another option, a source he hadn’t intended to tap. But he did say if I ever needed him…
He took out his wallet and checked the number on a business card, then dialed it. It rang through a few seconds later.
“Sergeant Glebe.”
“Sergeant. It’s Bob.”
“Mr. Fleming. Well, well. I confess, I didn’t get the impression I’d actually hear from you again.”
“How are you? How’s Tucson?”
“Fine. Still weird, still hot,” the officer said. “The struggle continues. But I assume you’re not calling just to catch up.”
“I’m working on a case for a friend. I keep running into two elements over and over and I’m trying to relate them.”
“Shoot.”
“Nitromethane ‘Top Fuel’ Funny Cars, and methamphetamine.”
“And you’re thinking… what? A business connection, a chemical connection…”
“The latter. Something specialized but not making meth itself. I figured I could wade through the internet and never find it, or I could call someone with good DEA ties.”
“Huh. Okay, when do you need it? I’m off today…”
“As soon as possible. Sorry, but—”
“No, that’s fine. I owe you big time for helping me put Carter Hayes away for life. Give me… well, I’ll try to be quick, let me put it that way. Same number? You’re coming up as unrecognized.”
“No.” Bob gave him the new digits.
“I’ll get back to you.”
“Appreciated.” He ended the call.
The checkered flag was being waved furiously as two cars roared across the finish line in tandem, the inside track just inches ahead. A roar went up from the crowd.
A moment later, everyone sat down, freeing up his line of sight to the fuel truck. A truck had pulled up just a few feet away.
Bob squinted, trying to make out who it was getting out of the cab. He moved quickly without running, pushing through the crowd as he rounded the south end of the lot, the track obscured by the high bank. A minute later, he had a clear view.
Greg Thomas. Baird’s assistant was giving two men in grey overalls directions, even as a second tanker backed up, its reverse alarm blaring, until it was parked parallel to the first.
Now what’s going on here? Before he could get an answer, a third truck—an eighteen wheeler with a box trailer—pulled into the lot off Petrol Road. It pulled behind the other two vehicles, obscuring the view of them from the grandstand.
This is some sleight-of-hand business right here. The two men were joined by two more, the crew running a corrugated hose between the two vehicles. He checked his watch.
It took fifteen minutes for anything to happen, at which point Thomas got into his pickup and drove off. Another ten minutes passed before they removed the hose from one truck and capped the tank, repeating the procedure on the other.
One of the four men rounded the tanker and climbed up into the cab. I think he’s moving. Bob ran back to the other parking lot as quickly as his feet would take him. He threw the borrowed BMW into gear and hit the gas, the compact sports coupe barreling across the lot, tires squealing as it slid onto Petrol Road.
The tanker was just a block ahead. He followed it as it headed west. Within a minute, it turned south. Bob began to recognize the area. We’re near the cheese factory.
The tanker passed the facility then turned right, the street adjacent to the factory’s rear entrance.
Bob parked at the curb a half-block away and watched as the two men got out of the cab. They checked their surroundings for anyone watching. A moment later, a man exited the building with three workers. He directed them to the tanker.
Bob’s phone rang. It was Glebe’s number.
“That was quick.”
“Easy request, as it turned out. Your Funny Car fuel can be used to make methamphetamine, albeit not directly. It has to be synthesized into an ingredient called methylamine first. Methylamine is relatively easy to make, but not in the quantities large producers would use.”
“And it… does what? How does that relate to pseudoephedrine?”
“Different precursor chemical, same idea. The methamphetamine can be distilled from methylamine, and because it can be manufactured here—”
“It’s easier than smuggling in controlled substances from Mexico,” Bob proposed.
“Exactly. But that’s where the volume issue becomes a problem. It’s unstable and dangerous as hell to produce large quantities from ammonia distillation. But there’s a process that can be used to extract it from nitromethane. Of course, most people don’t have an easy source of that either, not without setting off all sorts of alarms, so...”
