"But there's the water here. That's our lifeblood. We gave the other source away to the LBJ and even so... They might share but here is our own fountain, our own tapped vein. We can gang elsewhere and survive but water is nae wee thing to uproot. Leading a crew as large as we have is nae wee thing either. There is no doubt they're watching this place, seeing what we do." Is he rambling? He could be. There's so much to consider. Not just the men in jail. If they stay they're a target, if they go to leave then they're a target.
Maybe he shouldn't be drunk right now.
"I was on the inside then. I was under the radar and flying free. This time I'm out here as a turkey - drowning when I swatch up at the lift." His fingers tap on the jar he has a death grip on. He's thinking too. It seems as if Adelaide has a few connections left around the big house. His connection is someone he won't bring in. Cal has his own ideas what's right, his own objectives. He's not part of the DoJ and has nothing to do with la Quinta or the arrest of their brothers. Dragging him in for what little information he might have is a useless endeavor to put his life and reputation at risk for.
"They ken we have explosives. We were blowing up Cats so...that element of surprise is null. We have an old map. We need someone to gang in and make sure that the floor plan hasnae changed. We need someone to verify their whereaboots. If 'en, we can determine the best place to set up a controlled explosion but there are risks. This plan is a hail Mary. We're diving off the cliff and we have nae idea how deep the pool is."
He takes a gulp of his moonshine- for courage, for pacification, to help the shakes his hands are starting to tremble with. He's nervous. It can't be denied.