Gemma sidles over to tell Jax that Tara's okay. And who wouldn't be, with Rat shadowing their every move? You just know that prospect's got a framed black velvet reproduction of a John Wayne Gacy painting hanging over his bed. Tig comes over and Clay says, "Keep her safe." "Always," Tig says simply. The president and VP take off. Gemma stands alone until Tig comes over and slings an arm over her shoulder. Cue another hail of anvils, these bearing the label "GEMMA'S EXIT STRATEGY."
More stray head hijinks. Chuckie is trying to figure out what to do about the head -- not helped by the cops who are coming over to tell him to clear out -- and yet, he has somehow managed to stash it elsewhere before Roosevelt comes over to check out the grocery bag, which is now filled with only parsley. Chuckie gets a pass to continue making his chili for the fundraiser.
Out at the rez, Happy is disappointed to report that the Lobo Sonora soldier is not talking despite his best efforts. Odd, since -- Happy took a master class in torture over in Belfast last season. They grow 'em tough in Sonora. Anyway, the boys from the Galindo cartel are here, and Clay immediately starts in on Luis, all, "So how come Galindo's idea of having things covered involves our clubhouse getting perforated?" Luis smoothly reiterates that Lobo Sonora doesn't have a decent network north of the border, and then asks what the soldier is saying. "Nada," spits Chibs. Luis opens a briefcase filled with ampoules, syringes, and other, more slice-y and dice-y instruments of persuasion. Happy peers over, and his face instantly shines with a covetous gleam. Luis then shoots the soldier full of sodium thiopental (fun fact: "Sodium pentothal" is a trademark of Abbott Laboratories, so unless Galindo somehow has an in with a cute pharma rep, they're probably using a generic formula), under the working assumption that anyone getting a system full of barbiturates is going to be less able to lie under duress.
We then cut to two Mayans dragging the soldier out of the barn, while outside, Luis tears into Alvarez with "That Lobo says there's a rat in your crew with roots in Nogales." Alvarez coolly points out that the Lobo's a lying puta. Jax loses his cool -- and his command of his American-style vowels -- when he hotly points out, "It don't matter, Mayan or Sons, that bitch is dead." Alvarez steadfastly insists the soldier is full of shit. Luis counters that the soldier's full of truth serum. Since nobody there has the know-how or motivation to question whether sodium thiopental really produces "the truth" or just makes people more prone to babble, Luis is able to persuade everyone that Lobo's getting intel from a Mayan. Alvarez is forced to admit that Pedro has family in Nogales, so it's entirely possible he's the mole. Jax and Opie remember that Pedro was in the clubhouse (with Alvarez's injury), so that's how he knew where to hit the Sons. Alvarez is about to head over to Pedro and rip out the man's heart with his bare hands, but Jax gets all strategic: "If Pedro is the pipeline to Lobo, then let's feed him something useful. Our guns. We'll tell him we're moving them out of Cali tomorrow and we're storing them here tonight. Then [turns to Luis] you and your guys take 'em down." Luis is all, "Ah heh. Remember how we were all, 'The awesome thing about cartels is you're backed up by lots of men with guns?' All our men with guns are on vacation in Puerta Vallerta this week. You guys will need to do it." Bobby Elvis begins pacing nervously, and Jax points out, "We're not exactly an infantry unit, bro." Luis says, "You will be. Because make no mistake, gentlemen. We're at war." The gravity of this statement is immediately undercut by Luis cramming his Bluetooth earpiece into place. I'm sorry, but people sporting that look are not terrifying cyborgs. They are Locutus of Blergh.