Chapter 136: Conditions
"The taste is incredible, isn't it? Have you seen goods better than this? If you and Walter quit, there'll never be such high-quality stuff again," Frank hinted.
"Uncle Frank, what are you saying? You want me and Mr. White to keep going?" Pinkman realized Frank's suggestion.
"Why not?" Frank replied.
"Uncle Frank, I'll be honest. I'm not naive; I know how rare this quality is. But even if I wanted to continue, Mr. White wouldn't. He makes the product, and if he's out, what can I do alone?" Pinkman explained.
"What if I can convince Walter? Would you still want to be involved?" Frank asked.
"We'll see if you can convince Mr. White," Pinkman hesitated.
"Take a break and sell these goods while you can. This area was Crazy Eight's turf. Now that he's gone, it'll take time for others to take over.
During this vacuum, addicts will lack supply, so you can sell everything and even raise prices," Frank advised.
"Got it," Pinkman said impatiently, exhaling smoke.
"But there's something else," Frank added.
"What is it?" Pinkman asked, sounding disinterested.
"If I convince Walter and he agrees to continue, and you want to be part of it, you must quit using drugs. You can smoke weed, but stay away from meth," Frank said sternly.
"What?!" Pinkman exclaimed, voice rising.
"You've watched too many movies. No drug dealer stays clean!" Pinkman argued.
"I don't care, but if you want to work with us, you must stay clean," Frank insisted.
"Why kick me out? I started this with Mr. White—it's our business!" Pinkman protested.
"What use are you?" Frank suddenly asked.
"What?" Pinkman was taken aback.
"Walter handles production; you handle sales. Any street junkie can sell. I have decades of experience, more than you."
"Plus, your first sale caused this mess. Those two bodies are your fault," Frank said bluntly.
"I could easily replace you and work with Walter alone. But I'll give you a chance: quit the drugs, and we'll include you," Frank said, softening his tone.
"You, you..." Pinkman stammered, speechless.
Frank was right: the incident with Crazy Eight happened because of Pinkman's mistake. Unaware of the product's value, he approached Crazy Eight, causing a chain of events.
Frank's experience was unmatched; he identified the problem and helped solve it.
Without Frank, Walter and Pinkman would still be struggling with Crazy Eight and the bodies.
"What happened?" Walter asked, returning from taking his wife to the doctor, sensing the tense atmosphere.
"Nothing much, just a small disagreement," Frank replied casually.
"Okay, I'll check on the body," Walter said, heading to the backyard.
Opening the plastic barrel, Walter saw the afternoon's work had turned the bodies into a bloody sludge, unrecognizable.
"This is good," Walter said, stirring with a skimmer to ensure complete dissolution.
The remains, dissolved to this extent, could be flushed down the toilet and into the sewer.
Frank watched, impressed. Two bodies had become liquid in an afternoon, like something from a martial arts novel.
It was simple, needing only a plastic barrel and the right acid. Frank realized he could handle similar problems in the future without Walter's help.
The old saying held true: mastering science and chemistry could take you far.
The three loaded the barrels into the car, disposing of them outside the city. The two men had vanished without a trace, and Walter's problems were finally resolved.
"Mr. White, can we still..." Pinkman began after everything was settled, glancing at Frank.
"Shut up. I told you once this was over, we'd go our separate ways," Walter interrupted.
Walter had been as stressed as Pinkman, fearing arrest at any moment, even imagining police at his classroom door.
"Frank, my family situation is complicated. I'll help you find..." Walter began, addressing Frank.
Frank had come to see him, and Walter felt guilty for dragging him into this mess, needing Frank's help to resolve it. Now, with things settled, Frank couldn't stay at Pinkman's, so Walter planned to find him a hotel.
"No need. I'll stay here. We get along fine—he's like a son to me," Frank said, wrapping an arm around Pinkman.
"Who's your son?" Pinkman retorted, pushing Frank's arm away.
"Go home. I'll visit after school tomorrow," Frank told Walter.
"This is my house, and I don't know you. Please leave!" Pinkman said once Walter was gone, trying to assert himself.
"You've got plenty of space, and two people died here, dismembered in the bathtub. Aren't you afraid their ghosts will haunt you?" Frank teased.
"You..." Pinkman started, silenced by Frank's words.
"By the way, I'm hungry. Order takeout—no pizza this time, Chinese."
"Enough already!" Pinkman exclaimed in frustration.
(End of Chapter)