It has taken CJ about ten minutes to ride all the way back to Toreno's ranch back in Tierra Robada. He had been listening to the K-DST radio station during the ride. He wasn't much of a rock fan, but he found it a nice listen during his expedition through the desert. Plus he liked it so much better than the grunge rock that was popular right now.
When he finally got back to Toreno's cabin, the red sun had set. The sky was bright orange, and the shadows of the trees behind the sun reflected onto the dirt road. CJ hopped off the Sanchez and walked to the cabin. Inside was Toreno resting on his chair reading a book titled Conspiracy Theory.
"It's amazing!" Toreno said, browsing through the book.
"What's up now, Toreno?" CJ asked, approaching Toreno.
"This history," Toreno told CJ. "It's all lies. It says Hitler killed himself and that we nuked Japan. And people believe this shit. Jesus. Well, if it makes them sleep better at night, I guess."
"Hey man," CJ protested. "What did you want? Is you gonna free my brother?"
"No," Toreno replied, turning to CJ and rising on his feet as he set the book aside. "Not now. And here's a little newsflash – I said that to get you to do something for me."
"Man, you real fucked up," CJ grumbled, glaring furiously at Toreno.
"But the shocker is," Toreno continued, "we are gonna look after him. Because I need him alive as much as you do."
"Oh, thanks," CJ replied dryly.
"You know, after what you've done for me, it's like you're a pro now," Toreno said, pacing the room. "I got double agents in Panama who want to put a price on your head. A Russian spy – a little, fat, Boris looking guy – he's asking for clearance to interrogate you, Russian style. Callipers on the genitals. Feels good, you'd like it."
CJ stared down at his crotch and was now feeling disturbed at this point. "That ain't nothing cool, man!" CJ shouted in agony. "Just leave me alone. You're bad news!"
"Don't worry about it," Toreno laughed. "The Russians got bigger things to worry about than your genitals, believe me. The whole country went to shit. We tried hard to put a lid on it, but that idiot Gorbachev, with the little strawberry on his forehead, he gave away the crown jewels. Still, they got their, you know, boy in the White House. That was nice..."
"So?" CJ asked. "What you want me to do?"
"Listen, I need you to buy some property, OK?" Toreno told CJ, stepping up to him. "Shouldn't cost that much. You offer them a dollar. If they give you a hard time, kill them. I'm going to need you to start doing some real wet work here for me soon, OK? Enough of this little girl bullshit. Now get out of here."
He slapped a set of keys to the property onto CJ's palm and turned away to return to his desk. CJ just stored the keys inside his pocket and walked out of the cabin. CJ wasn't sure what to think about Toreno. The things he was telling him and getting him into were cryptic to say the least. In spite of all that, he just had to do what he was told in order to bail Sweet out of jail. He had no idea what any of that had to do with his goal, but he decided not to question it and just hopped onto his Sanchez outside.
As he rode through the desert, he put on the station K-DST, which played "Free Bird" by Lynard Skynard. It was the perfect song to clear the stress that had been going on in the back of his mind.
It actually look nice out here, CJ thought. I'm actually enjoying this ride.
The long road ride, combined with the nice set of tunes on the K-DST radio station, made for a relaxing road trip for CJ. The sky gradually changed to a navy violet color, and the stars slowly dispersed around the colorful, nocturnal sky over the desert. His long ride finally came to an end when he finally came to an abandoned airfield with a safehouse inside. He had made it. He was now in Verdant Meadows. CJ slowly got off the Sanchez and walked up to the safehouse.
Just then, he heard his cellphone ring. CJ pulled it out to answer it.
"Yo, CJ," he heard Jethro answer. "It's, like, Jethro, dude!"
"Hey, Jethro," CJ replied. "How is it?"
"Yo, dude," Jethro told him. "The garage is coming along nicely, man. But I rang about something else. There's an unofficial street racing club in San Fierro."
"Unofficial as in 'illegal', right?" CJ asked.
"I don't know what you're talking about, dude," Jethro said. "Anyhoo, they meet up around the driving school someplace. Thought you might, y'know, like to know."
"Thanks, Jethro," CJ told him. "I'm a think about it, and I'll holla at you. Later, man."
CJ hung up the phone and walked inside the safehouse. As he looked around from the inside. it was rather dark and austere. All it had were a couple of beanbags and some posters on the wall. So CJ walked outside and took the stairs to the back. He saw that it was a small office replete with a water jug, a desk, and a television with a VCR. Just then, CJ heard his cellphone ring. He pulled it out of his pocket and answered it.
"Hey, Carl!" he heard Toreno say through the phone. "So what do you think of our new base of operations?"
"It's missing something," CJ told him. "Maybe a tennis court and a pool would help motivate me better."
"Very nice, Carl, very cute," Toreno scoffed. "Now listen, you're going to have to learn how to fly."
"No I ain't," CJ protested.
"Yes, actually, you are," Toreno replied. "I've set out a series of tests for you. You can access them on that TV. You're going to have to prove to me you can fly if you're going to continue working towards your brother's freedom."
"Shit," CJ grumbled. "Whatever, man..."
"Very nice," Toreno replied calmly right before hanging up.
CJ knew he wasn't prepared for this, and it was already getting late. So he exited the office, went through the entrance of the front of the safehouse, took off his sneakers, and drifted to sleep on one of the beanbags. He had had a long road trip and wanted to save his energy for tomorrow, because he knew it would be a long day for him.