New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2) (28 page)

Steve clicked off his cell phone after his third exchange
of the day with Mathew and Moll.
 
He
sipped his coffee and rotated around to Ivy working on her laptop next to
him.
 

“Forwarded a secure email from Mathew with the info on three
powerful
crimesters
, as Moll called
them,” Steve said.
 
“We will first search
the FBI files and run them through various criminal databases.
 
One name is familiar as a perp chased by
another team at the Bureau.
 
The other
two are new to me.
 
One is alleged to be
a drug kingpin who runs an upscale ring in major U.S. cities on the east coast
– the man behind the dealers and street pushers.
 

“The second is a purported embezzler, ostensibly emulating
Bernie Madoff, creating a similar tempting investment scheme.
 
While not yet on the scale of Madoff’s $65
billion fraud, Julio’s sources speculated his offering has attracted at least a
billion in investor dollars and continues to grow at a rapid rate.”

When Ivy’s eyes widened in
surprise,
he could tell she had not expected that type of white-collar criminal to
be among the Fuentes’ list of
likely felons
.

“The last one interests me the most.
 
Julio claims this young woman – she’s only
about 22 -- is a professional hacker who specializes in cracking federal
systems like the FBI’s Sentinel computer application and mining for information
on cases.
 
She wormed her way
electronically into the system, extracted the facts about our Spook Hills gang
and left apparently undetected.”

“What do you want me to tackle?”
 
Ivy asked as she leaned forward, ready to
take on the needed inquiries.

“For now, you investigate the drug
lord.
 
I
’ll keep the other
two.
 
Once we have our findings, we will
each validate what the other one did.”

Ivy wiggled a little in her chair and then total
concentration came to her face as she transformed into one of the most absorbed
researchers Steve had ever run into.
 
She
also came to logical conclusions and often popped out creative ideas.
 
He was lucky to have her on this task.

His reluctance to expose their undertakings to the FBI,
other than the two chiefs, was to prevent an overzealous agent from jumping the
gun to score an arrest.
 
He made a
personal commitment to
safeguard
the
Fuentes during their discussions, including impeding anyone from acting
precipitously to endanger them or to foil the accord they wanted.
 
Most important, he did not want to put Mathew
and Moll in the line of fire.

Reading his thoughts, she asked, “When do we give our
fellows protection?
 
Won’t this get more
and more hazardous for them as the talks move forward?”

“We’ll keep them running as they are, unless we sense that
any so-called person of interest perceives a sellout is in the works.
 
The more
individuals
who are aware of this situation, the more the jeopardy increases to the
Fuentes.”

“As well as for Mathew and Moll and for us.”

“Yes.”

“I’m glad you aren’t sugar coating the risks.”

“You earned your place as my partner on this case.
 
I want to shelter and protect you, and I
will, but you need to appreciate the degree of peril inherent in working with
me.”

“Quicker solved, the faster we are back to being Ivy and
Steve,” Ivy replied as she returned her attention to her keyboard.
 

He pulled his attention back to his screen, noting his wife
was now so engrossed in her assignment, he might as well be working in another
room.
 
Two hours later his phone rang
with Brian and Terry on the line, asking for an update on the
negotiations.
 
While he briefed them with
the phone on speaker and Ivy listening in, Steve detected their uneasiness with
Moll and Mathew off in Paris.
 

After hanging up, Ivy said.
 
“Why don’t we invite them down?”

“For dinner?”

“How about they stay here?
 
Lenny just moved back into his trailer so we have room.
 
They can forward their phones to their cells
and bring down their laptops.
 
They can
use the telecom hookups in Mathew’s room and in the guest room.
 
When calls come
in to
you, they will learn what’s happening in Paris first hand.”

“Should the proceedings go sideways, they will be here.
 
Doesn’t Terry keep a cat or something?”

“Think he does.
 
I
guess Druid will have a house lodger of his own, and he is not the most
welcoming of hosts, except once he accepted a neighbor’s kitty.
 
The first time she sashayed her poufy Persian
body into the yard, he was a goner.
 
They
liked to sit out on the patio together and commune with nature.”

“So Terry can bring his
kitty-cat
?”

She reached over to press his knee.
 
“Yes, you old softie.
 
We will need to do a food shopping run.”

“Make a list – stuff easy to prepare that I can help
with.
 
I’ll ask the guys to stop at the
store on their way down, then we can all settle in and work without too much
burden on you.”
 

Steve reached for his phone, pleased with Ivy for being so
accommodating.
 
He decided to add bunches
of flowers to the list – gold, rust, and
burgundy
chrysanthemums with white spider mums and yellow pompoms thrown in.
 
Ivy had bought those colors and varieties
this time last year so those choices should delight her.

At their hotel in Paris, Cruze and Julio spent the
afternoon going over each item in the FBI draft.
 
While more rigorous than they projected, the
demands were not unfair given their histories.

“The monetary penalty is steep,” Cruze said.

“And non-negotiable,” Julio replied.
 
“If we pool our resources, we can afford that
amount and still retain more money than we will ever use, even with my spending
habits.”

“Our existence will be limited.
 
Never going back home.
 
Never dabbling in illegal schemes again.
 
Can you stick to those things?” Cruze said,
leaning back on the couch.
 

“I want a different life, Cruze.
 
I want
a
lawful
, calm life as I thought you did.
 
What will you regret leaving behind?”

“Small things.
 
I want
those photos from our childhood we kept at the Madrid house.
 
I would like to visit the gravesites of my
parents and those of Cristo and Eduardo and, if possible, go back to the house
in New Mexico.
 
We should sell your boat
and buy a new one for you more suitable to the Mediterranean.
 
Anything you want?”

Julio thought for a moment.
 
He wanted to turn the clock back and save Cristo and Eduardo from their
fates, but that was not possible.
 
Instead
he said, “I sold the speedboat to a
trader.
 
My condo is under contract and
should close next week.
 
My jewelry is in
a safety deposit box in Lisbon.
 
All my
accounts and investments are now in the worldwide markets.
 
I began the transition the first time you
called.
 
Cruze, we will request those
things you want when we talk with Mathew.”

“Go back to the United States?” asked Cruze.

“One time.
 
Do all you
want in one
trip.
 
FBI escort,” Julio replied.

“They could trap us.”

“We go before giving up any more proof on underworld
activities,” Julio said.

“You believe in these two men?”

“I trust no one other than you, but I am impressed by these
two men.
 
They are
good
people.
 
Unfortunately
we are on opposite
sides.”

Cruze shook his head and said, “What an understatement!
 
Odd to find I trust them too.
 
Heylen comes across as so genuine as if he
never thought anything bad.
 
He was a
fed.
 
He could be a good actor.”

Julio walked over to the window, staring out as the evening
lights splashed the grayness of the night with a wash of color.
 
He wished he had known men like Mathew and
Moll earlier in his life.
 
Perhaps they
could have helped him find a different career path far away from his
information trading in the underworld.
 

With a tone of
wistfulness,
Julio said, “We were never accustomed to idealists.
 
I think today we met our first.
 
The other one, the
offbeat
guy called Moll, is like someone out of a movie set in
California.
 
Even dressed as a banker,
his manner comes across as a laid-back, flower child with his head floating
away in space or time.
 
Even so
he seemed sincere about helping us.”

“They sure are loyal to the damned big agent,” Cruze said

“Remember, he did not fire at Cristo and Eduardo.
 
He went in for the
capture.
 
Cristo did his best
to kill him.”

“Can we believe what Heylen said?” Cruze asked.
 

Although he frowned when he asked the question, Julio
suspected that he felt the truth of
Heylen’s
account in his heart.
 
Julio said,
“Cruze, what
Heylen
described reflected
the character of each of them.
 
Eduardo
acted tough but underneath he hid a traumatized boy too emotionally fragile to
endure prison.
 
The inmates would bully
and rape him his first night without Cristo by his side.
 
I find Cristo taking Eduardo’s life to save
him from a nightmarish fate not only conceivable but likely."

Cruze nodded a reluctant concurrence.
 
“Then Cristo swung to kill the big
agent.
 
He
focused on him as his . . .
 
What did he
call him?

“His nemesis,” Julio said.

“Yes.
 
N
emesis
was the word he used.”

“If only they had turned their backs on revenge against the
big agent and his wife.
 
They might still
be with us,” Julio said, his face filled with sorrow.

“We go for this?” Cruze asked.

“With your added conditions.”

“Nothing else for you?”

“I will go back with you if they agree to what you want and
say my goodbyes too.
 
Where will we go for
the required retina scans and DNA tests, do you think?”

“We’ll insist on a neutral spot,” Cruze replied.
 
“Portable units for retinal scans are
available,
and genetic samples are easy to take
anywhere.”

“Let's make the call, walk to the Metro, go to the Paris
Nord station and stow most of our luggage.
 
Time
we left the central part of
the
city.
 
W
e need to travel light.
 
M
ore
than I worry about the FBI, I fear that our
previous
associates
could sense that
we are ratting on them,” Julio
said.
 

He intuited an elusive brush of someone’s eyes when they
left the hotel that morning for the lunchtime meeting and gun sights
on
them when they left the restaurant in the
early afternoon. The FBI might be on guard or one of the fifty
underworlders
they intended to disclose sensed
their double-dealing.
 
Surviving all
those years in his masquerade as Julio meant not sweeping aside whispers of
apprehension.
 

What am I?
Julio
asked
himself as he gazed out at the street.
 
Male or female or asexual?
 
Can I
keep slipping away until I can vanish altogether and come back as someone who
is more me than I am now?
 
Call myself
what I will, can I transform into the Annetta behind the metrosexual
facade?
 
Will I be satisfied with being
myself as a woman although I will be more vulnerable?
 
Even if things go well with the FBI,
filaments of disquiet about someone after me will always be there to taunt
me.
 
And yet I may gain the opportunity
to be more myself than I have ever been.
 

He turned away from the window, snapped his suitcase shut,
picked up the small overnight bag and briefcase and nodded to Cruze.
 
Decision made, they should depart.

After dropping Susannah at school, Callie went out in the
vineyard’s cellars with her Uncle Rick to take samples from the barrels for
each vintage.
 
With the weather too wet
to work outside, they would draw small testers, replug the casks, and assess
how the aging progressed for
each one
tasted.
 
Whether out on the vineyard,
here in the wine cellar or in the house, she kept busy since worry for Mathew’s
safety threatened to overwhelm her.
 
Once
she returned from Sedona, he jumped into her heart, filling her with love and
desire.
 
She suspected he remained
unaware how much she wanted him.
 
Once
her heart breathed
freely,
Mathew with
his goodness and his masculinity floated across the air to her, becoming more
of her being with each inhalation.

Susannah too seemed edgy.
 
Although she never spoke of him, Callie sensed her daughter concealed a
deep affection for Mathew.
 
They each
liked to hide their deepest emotions.
 
She had loved John Henry at the beginning or thought she did, but
nothing like what Mathew brought out in her.
 
An intense love circled in and around her, leaving the impression that
no amount of intimacy, separation or passage of time would temper the growing
bond.
 
The depth of emotion scared her
even as she welcomed her love for Mathew.

Callie moved to the next barrel to be sampled, taking care
when removing the
wodge
as it was called
from the bunghole.
 
She inserted a wine
thief, a tube to bring a little liquid up.
 
After extracting a measured amount, she sealed the airtight container.
 
Once they collected a few tasters, they
sipped each one to assess its potential and then considered whether to let it
mature into a vintage or make a blend with complementary wines.
 

When they evaluated the evolving wine, they took one sample
at a time, first considering the color.
 
The youngest
reds
showed more blue
in their tints.
 
They inhaled the bouquet
and took a small mouthful, letting the raw liquid roll around from the front to
the back of the palate as they tried to discern nuances in the flavor.
 
Uncle Rick discussed various aspects with
her, before jotting their conclusions in his vineyard notebook.
 
The wine zinged their tongues with a pungent
tang, making Callie fret about how she would ever learn to perceive the latent
qualities of the developing vintages.

The activity reminded her to start researching software to
track their varieties, fields, vats, barrels and bottles by season.
 
When they
finished
the tasting, Callie jumped into her car to drive over to talk with Steve about
his ideas on computer systems for a vineyard.
 
He would also tell her if they received an update from Mathew
today.
 
While Mathew called her each day
before he went to bed, being over at Spook Hills would give her the illusion of
closeness to him.
 
Seeing Steve and Ivy
would also let her weigh their anxiety.
 

When she pulled up
to
the house, two additional cars were parked near the
garage,
which made Callie wonder if she picked a bad time to stop
by.
 
She rang the front doorbell and a
man she never met answered the door.

“Hi, I’m Terry – Brian and Moll’s partner.
 
You must be Callie,” Terry said.

The fellow standing in front of her stood about her
height.
 
He
was slender with hair in light flaxen ringlets down to
his
collarbones.
 
In his
narrow gold metal framed glasses with a blue
tint,
he came across as more hi-tech than retro.
 
His intense gray eyes seemed inquisitive and kind.
 
Callie liked the straightforward way he
addressed her and his geek-hip appearance.
 

“Good to meet you, Terry,” Callie replied.
 
“Is Steve around?”

“Up to his elbows making sandwiches.
 
Come on in.
 
Brian and I arrived about thirty minutes ago.
 
Working here for a few days.”

“Something
happen
?”

Terry shrugged and peered at her sideways as he turned.
 
“We're all antsy.”

Steve bent over the counter with slices of dark pumpernickel
in front of him, which might turn into Reubens.
 
Callie’s stomach rumbled at the sight of them.
 
Steve turned and said, “Hey Callie, join us
for lunch!”

Ivy rolled her eyes and said.
 
“Yes, please.
 
Steve is making enough to ask Rick,
Sassy
and Susannah over too.”

“Hmm, thanks,” Callie replied.
 
“They drove up to Portland to go clothes
shopping,
and Susannah is at school.
 
I didn’t mean to interrupt when you have
company, but I wanted to find out if you plan to use
an application
for tracking your vines and vintages.”

“Or in our case, grappling with grapes and learning the fine
art of making vinegar,” Steve said as a joke.
 
“Been evaluating alternatives.
 
We’ll buy a package for testing purposes.
 
If we find too many limitations, we will
build our own.
 
You want to work with us
on the evaluation when Mathew is back?”

Callie agreed with enthusiasm, recognizing Steve offered a
perfect solution for her.
 

“Good, let’s you and me sit down with Ivy after we eat and
I’ll show you what we mapped out.
 
By the
way, Mathew sounded chipper when he called today.
 
The Fuentes added an interesting twist, which
the Chief must approve.
 
In the
meantime
we are vetting their three leads.”

“Any news on when he’ll be back?”
 
Callie asked.

“Maybe a week if nothing changes and the Bureau buys
into
this latest addition,” Steve replied.
 
“Might be a hitch in the timing of the
restitution payment the Fuentes must make, depending on where the money comes
from and how their investments are arranged.
 
Speed works in all our favors.
 
My
guess is they are liquidating assets as we speak.”

“Any trouble?” Callie asked.

Steve shifted his eyes to Ivy then said, “Not to worry you
but agents can develop an intuition about someone having them under
observation.
 
Mine kept me
alive.
 
Mathew may be finding his.
 
Ivy calls the phenomenon an angel on our
shoulders.”

“He sensed something?” Callie asked.

“So did Moll.
 
Felt
watched.”

“FBI?”

“Possible, although we are playing this close,” Steve
replied.
 
“The Chief was
briefed,
and even he is not plugged into the
details of the logistics.
 
Might be
someone hired by the Fuentes.”

“Are bad guys trailing them?
 
Someone worried about what Cruze and Julio might do?” Callie asked, her
voice rising with her level of concern.

“Also a possibility.
 
Or nothing more than imagination,” Steve said.

“You don’t think so.”

“No, I don’t.
 
Agents
in Europe are now scheduled to keep a lookout 24/7.
 
They won’t be told why Mathew and Moll are
there.
 
We’ll add a trusted agent once
they are state-side.”

“Who will the other agent be?” Callie asked.

“Still to be determined,” Steve replied.
 
“Could be Brian or Lenny.
 
We’re not sure we want to leave us stripped
here, plus Lenny is not 100%.”

“Nor is Mathew.
 
Do he
and Moll need to participate?”

“That is the question I keep asking myself,” Terry said, his
words coming out as if each one had been bitten off a much longer thought.

“They gained momentum and perhaps built a thin layer of
trust with the cousins,” Steve
said
in a
voice firm with conviction.
 
“They each
think they are the right ones to complete this operation.
 
To reduce exposure, we will send them
around
the United States on a Bubird – that’s
what we call an FBI jet.
 
Stops in Miami
and Albuquerque.
 
Armed escorts while on
the
ground
if needed.
 
I will be present by teleconference at the
concluding exchange of documents and the disclosure of what we call persons of
interest.”

Ivy walked over and drew Callie into a hug, then she said,
“This is the best way.
 
Mathew and Moll
are trained for this work.
 
Mathew’s
reasons for wrapping this case up with the Fuentes include you.
 
He wants to end this so he can find peace and
happiness.
 
By
choice
he is running this setup.”

“And Moll?”
 
Terry
asked, with a sharp edge in his voice.
 
“Why does he need to be involved?”

“Call and ask him,” Ivy said, holding Terry’s gaze.
 
She glanced over at Steve as she walked
away.
 
His eyes were soft and
thoughtful.
 
After turning to the
griddle, he tilted his head back and forth the way he did when he debated a
thought with himself.
 
He bowed his head,
rested both hands on the counter, breathed in, nodded slightly and went back to
smearing Thousand Island dressing on half the remaining bread

The aroma of sizzling hot butter floated around the room,
even as appetites dulled with each person standing engrossed in private
concerns.
 
Brian rushed up from
downstairs, bursting with excitement.

“We booked a new client!
 
This one thinks a hacker is stealing data.
 
They want us in their offices as soon as we
can be in Boston,” Brian announced, pumping his fist in the air in
celebration.
 
His smile faded when he
took in the grim faces in the room.
 
“Why
aren’t you cheering?
 
What’s wrong?”

Steve shook his head.
 
“Nothing new.
 
Worries about Moll
and Mathew.
 
Congratulations on your new
contract!
 
We are all happy for you and
prouder of the three of you than I can say.”

Brian seemed both deflated and mollified, “Guess I better go
alone.”

“Take Terry with you.
 
He can give us his current work and coach us by phone.
 
Be good to have a data guru with you to
handle technical questions.
 
You sure can
be caught up in a maelstrom sometimes with this business of yours!”

Terry clenched his jaw and stood his ground until Ivy strode
over to press his arm.
 
“This is what
Moll needs you to do.
 
Staying here worrying
won’t help.
 
We’ll keep your FireWire cat
for you.”

She turned to Brian, “I want you to take Lenny as a
bodyguard until you are through security at PDX.
 
Schedule a town car to transport you when you
land in Boston and use one door-to-door when you move around the city.”

“Right.
 
I’ll book the
travel once we are done eating.”

“Calling Moll,” Terry said, as he left the room with his
cell at his ear.

Steve stacked the grilled Reubens on a heated platter which
Ivy slid into the oven while he put more butter on to melt, followed by
bread.
 
With one hand, he dialed Lenny on
his phone to brief him along with Fred and Federico.
 
Hearing
him,
Ivy
hustled to put out more plates to guarantee they were sure of their
welcome.
 
Callie shook herself out of her
thoughts and moved to help with the buffet on the kitchen island, snatching up
a container of fat deli pickles and selecting a small knife to slice them into
spears.
 

All for two.
 
Despite
her fears for Mathew and Moll, she smiled to herself at the way everyone
rallied to support them.
 
A longhaired
bright orange feline ambled into the room, likely the one Ivy called FireWire
and belonging to Terry.
 
The kitty
surveyed the room, spied Ivy’s cat in an overstuffed chair, walked over and
sprang up.
 
The two cats touched noses
and the new one curled up next to
Ivy’s
as if she were a lifetime companion and not a recent visitor.
 
The thought of them as kindred souls like
herself and Mathew made Callie smile as she lined up the pickle spears on a
rectangular plate.

The next morning on the SNCF train departing Chantilly
for the sprawling Paris Nord station, Cruze and Julio boarded into different
compartments, positioning themselves with views of the doors.
 
They moved around frequently now, sometimes
putting on a hat or changing a jacket as they went.
 
Julio thought a man seemed familiar in the
hotel lobby when they checked out.
 
While
too tanned to be a Parisian, he might be from the south of France or he might
be out of Miami.