The Turbulence of Butterflies (Max Howard Series Book 6)

by Fischer G. Hayes

  “So, you want me to sell to him?” I said.

  “I think their offer for the ranch is a fair price. I know you could make more if you broke the ranch up into smaller parcels, but I didn’t think you wanted to do that. That’s why I brought this to you. I didn’t know you had a better offer on the ranch.”

  “I don’t have a problem selling to André de Lionne if that’s what you want. It still begs the question, though, why are so many people suddenly interested in the Pape Ranch after we found the Spanish cistern. Hannah thinks the common thread between the buyers is a connection to the early Christian crusades. I tend to agree.”

  “What?” James Lee said somewhat incredulously.

  I had forgotten to bring him up-to-date over the last week, but in my defense, things had been rather hectic. I couldn’t tell if he thought I was off my rocker or he was amazed at the news.

  “Hannah has done extensive internet research on our potential buyers. Both men have family connections to the early Knights Templar in France and later in Portugal, as does the Catholic Church.”

  “What’s that got to do with the Spanish cistern or the ranch?”

  “I have no idea. Let’s ask them and see what happens,” I said and moved to the door to go back inside. “You should know this other buyer wants last offer in case we get in a bidding war.”

  “Wait. Who exactly is the other person?”

  “His name is Alfredo Soares from Lisbon. He put a million dollars into an escrow account in New Haven.”

  James Lee thought a moment and then shook his head at me. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

  “I’m sorry. It slipped my mind what with Sunny and Ariana being in the hospital and getting ready for this presentation today. Do you know him?”

  “Not personally. He’s well known in some international circles. He’s Portuguese but has Russian money behind him. I’d like to hear what Hannah found out.”

  “You can talk to her during lunch. I’ll hold off on saying anything until you and I can talk again after we’ve finished eating.”

  . . .

  It was hard to get a read on the Frenchmen sitting around with paper plates on their knees and piled high with brisket and ribs plus beans and potato salad. I assumed their frowns were from the brightness of the noon sun or maybe they didn’t like the Shiner Bock beer. There was a sigh from them as Hannah excused herself and went inside to talk with James Lee. I was sitting next to the interpreter for the group, though André seemed fluent enough. He was on the other side of him, while Katie sat on my other side.

  The Frenchmen were picking at their food and moving the pieces of meat around their plate, though Shane, Katie, and I had nothing left but the rib bones. I looked at André’s plate and then raised an eyebrow at him for an explanation.

  “We’re still on our time. It makes traveling easier on the stomach,” he said to explain the untouched food.

  I nodded that I understood, but didn’t really. “I’ll tell the chef. He’s right proud of his smoked meat. I wouldn’t want him to be offended. Perhaps our guests tomorrow will be more acclimated to international travel,” I said to get his goat for not liking the best of Texas food.

  “I want to conclude our deal today, assuming we can see the Spanish cistern,” André said.

  I left that hanging. “As soon as James Lee and Hannah return we can ride out to the site. Excuse me,” I said. I grabbed Katie’s plate and we walked to the kitchen to make sure Clete didn’t get his feelings hurt. He didn’t. With all the perfectly good scraps, his dog, Travis, would eat well for the week. Katie stayed with Janice and I went into the living room.

  James Lee and Hannah were standing at the photograph wall where Hannah had posted enlarged images of the site on foam board. James Lee was looking at an image on her iPad.

  “Did you bring him up to speed?”

  “Almost. I told him about the capstone and the connection to the Motagua River in Guatemala. Come take a look. I think you’ll find this interesting.”

  “What does an ancient mining site for the Mayans have to do with the Templar Knights?” James Lee asked.

  “That’s the million-dollar question isn’t it?” I said.

  “It’s more than a million dollars, Max. If this has anything to do with the treasure that the Templars were rumored to have smuggled out of Jerusalem before it was recaptured by Muslim forces in 1187, then there is no way to estimate it’s worth monetarily or culturally,” Hannah said.

  “What you have here is a big fat nothing, Hannah. I’m sorry, Dad, but this is all too farfetched to justify not accepting André’s offer. You don’t know that the Portuguese buyer will honor his bid when the French offered three and a half million less. And, if he doesn’t, then I would expect André to reduce his offer. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Take the offer.”

  I had to smile. I knew where he got that philosophy. I could see the look of disappointment on Hannah’s face, though.

  “It’s not my property. I just want you to know my interest is purely academic,” she said to him.

  “Say what you have to say, Hannah.” I said and smiled at her to let her know I trusted her opinion.

  She took a deep breath and looked at the both of us. “I have no idea what the motives are for buying this ranch by any of these people. I think they know something we don’t. That’s a given. I can only tell you what I know. When the Templars fled the French Inquisition in 1307 those that escaped were able to do so with most of their wealth. Some went to Portugal; others to Scotland. The Portuguese King, Denis, created a military order called the Military Order of Christ to provide cover for the Templars that escaped the French purge. Whatever brought the Catholic Church and these descendants from religious military families dating back to the Crusades together here in Solms County, Texas in 2018, I want to be part of, at least professionally. It’s just too historically significant to ignore.”

  “I’ll make sure that happens, Hannah,” I said.

  “There is no guarantee that if we put a clause in the sales agreement that they have to hire you or that you will be made privy to anything that goes on after the sale, they will honor it. I know an attorney in Houston who is a Free Mason. Someone told me that they were founded by the Templars. I really don’t know or care. I know that they are a secret society and I doubt a secret society, Templar or otherwise, would share anything with an outsider. I mean, they’re a secret society, right? André could hire you and you could end up doing whatever he asked‒from writing promotional brochures to babysitting,” James Lee said.

  “True. And if I quit in disgust he has the property and is free to pursue whatever they came here for,” she said. Her voice told me she was resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t be part of whatever happened to the Pape Ranch, but she continued, “Unless we establish a pre-sale claim to any future discoveries on the property.”

  James Lee looked at me in surprise. I think he had underestimated this Aggie.

  “Alright. I’ve heard enough. Let’s take them for a tour of the cistern,” I said. I needed to talk to Sam Hallinan to make sure Hannah’s future association with the ranch and Journal was secure.

  . . .

  “Okay, Gentlemen, before we climb aboard, I need each of you to sign this Hold Harmless Agreement that my attorney requires. It’s a one paragraph agreement that says you won’t sue me if you fall and break your neck or you get bitten by a rattlesnake,” I said.

  James lee raised an eyebrow on that part about the rattlesnake. He had been bitten as a young boy and one of the reasons he had no interest in the family ranch. Shane handed the clipboards and pens out. While the interpreter translated the sentences into French, André finished reading and signed the one-page document. The others followed his lead and signed before the interpreter finished. André’s friends insisted, politely enough, that Hannah ride with them to the cistern. Shane drove the Suburban, while I followed behind with James Lee and André in my truck.

 
; “I’m curious, André. What do you plan to do with the ranch after you’ve bought it?”

  “James has told me that you wish to keep the ranch intact and I agree. I would have no desire to divide such a large property into smaller pieces. No, I will hold it as an investment.”

  “We’re currently reseeding where we’ve clear-cut useless vegetation. If we stop work before the new ground cover takes hold, you will lose much of the ranch’s topsoil to erosion.”

  “Yes, we saw the work from the air. I would want to finish what you are working on,” André said.

  “What did you think about using the cavern as a tourist attraction and revenue generator?” James Lee asked for what I could tell was my benefit.

  “I don’t think we would pursue tourism as a revenue source. If you will sell me the property, we will close the ranch off and hire a caretaker and wait for it to appreciate in value.”

  “You might want to talk to Shane Wagnor. He knows the land like the back of his hand,” I offered.

  I watched André nod his head in the rearview mirror.

  “Yes, I will speak with him. He expressed the same interest to me.”

  “Did James Lee mention to you who the other buyers were?”

  “No, he did not. James?”

  “You know the Catholic Church is interested, I told you that. The other party is a man you are probably acquainted with. Alfredo Soares,” James Lee said.

  “Unbelievable! I do not believe this. How could he possibly know about this ranch?”

  “I didn’t tell him,” I said.

  “Max just told me today,” James Lee said. “It had to be someone in your organization.”

  “That is obvious,” André snapped at James Lee. “What is he offering?”

  “According to his representative, he’s put a million dollars in escrow at a local bank and has offered eleven million,” I said. “He’s going to view the property tomorrow.”

  “You should know the man follows me around like the city mouse hiding under the table for a few crumbs from the deals I make over my dinner. He is of no consequence and does not have the money he claims. I happen to know for fact that a bank note on his refinery in Libya for sixty million euros is due in three weeks and it will not be extended. They are operating the plant at forty percent of its capacity.”

  “It’s only fair to let the man see the ranch if he wants to buy it,” I said.

  André nodded his head that he understood the situation. Business was business.

  “Assuming we are willing to pay the same price, who will you sell the ranch to?”

  I smiled at André in the rearview mirror. “To the man who is honest with me.”

  “You are shrewd business man, Mr. Howard. The apple does not fall far from the tree, eh, James.”

  “I’m just an old rancher that’s been horse trading for years. Now, James Lee, he got his smarts all on his own in Iraq,” I said. I could see James Lee on the seat next to me looking a bit uncomfortable. I didn’t know if it was from me bragging on him or that he was embarrassed by my cowpoke persona in front of his foreign investment partner. I didn’t care. I had the advantage now and I was going to find out what I wanted to know.

  “Why don’t you tell me why you really want this ranch?” I said.

  “If you insist. I want to work with your son. He is a very shrewd businessman and stands to make a nice sum of money on our investment together. I want this property because the Catholic Church wants it and because my offer is a good one. We will make a good ROI on the resale in ten years given the growth of San Antonio; or so my analysts tell me.”

  “I don’t doubt that one bit.” I said to him. “What’s the connection to the Catholic Church, though?”

  “Ah. Well that is a delicate matter and I’m not sure I can divulge that information to you. Rest assured, Mr. Howard, that it is incidental to my desire to make a good investment in America; the home of the free and the brave.”

  He smiled at James Lee. I watched him in the mirror. Then James Lee and I eyed one another and we were in total agreement. André was more bullshit than substance.

  “Well, I appreciate you being honest with me, mon-sure de lee on ness,” I said in my best Texas twang. “I’d sure hate to do business with a man I couldn’t trust.”

  “I feel the same way. I look forward to closing the deal today after we have inspected the Spanish cistern. But at my price.”

  “Well, to be honest, I do have a few more questions. Maybe Alfredo Soares can answer them for me tomorrow. I’ll make my decision, then.”

  I could see by his expression that he was angry at being played. Tough. I grinned at James Lee.

  “What is it you need to know to conclude the deal today?”

  “Tell me what your connection is to the Catholic Diocese of San Antonio. I don’t believe it is a coincidence that you both have an interest in the ranch.”

  “You are right, Max. The Catholic Church is asset rich, but cash poor by design of the Holy See. They live well beyond their means. They do not take in nearly enough in donations or earned income to cover their world-wide operational costs. They can no longer borrow money on their good credit alone to finance their deficits each year and the Holy See does not allow Church assets to be used as collateral. They must rely on the Faithful to help keep the Vatican Bank afloat. I am one of the Faithful.”

  “Go on,” I said.

  “The Church is no different than your Government-though by some estimates they exceed the United States in material wealth-they must finance their day to day operations with borrowing against future income. I am a guarantor of almost two hundred and fifty million euros in unsecured loans for the Vatican Bank in Rome. This venture of Bishop McCrory has not been sanctioned by the finance committee of the Vatican Bank, but it is money he has personally raised and it is his to dispose of as he deems appropriate. This change in financial policy is part of the new compartmentalization of the Vatican’s assets from all the law suits here in America against the Church. I think in principle, the Vatican supports the planned Seminary and Retreat facility in the San Antonio Diocese but cannot financially underwrite it or assume any of the financial liabilities. Do you understand?”

  “Of course, I understand,” I said. I did not say aloud that what I really understood was that he was the fool if he thought I believed his story at face value and wouldn’t check it out. “So, you are here to buy the ranch to help the Catholic Church?”

  “In a way, yes. I will purchase the property and lease it back to the Diocese of San Antonio. I will still own the land and thus protect my investment while helping the Vatican to expand its base of operations in the Americas,” André said.

  After I had maneuvered my truck down to the arroyo floor, we could see the others were already at the cistern and looking down into the structure. After we stopped, I told André and James Lee to go join the others. I stayed in the vehicle and thought about what André had said. It hadn’t set well with me. I noticed he was on his cell phone right away. He’d learn soon enough, he wouldn’t get any service down in the arroyo.

  The Catholic Church was one of the wealthiest organizations in the world, if not the wealthiest. They could, if they were true to the teachings of Jesus Christ, end world hunger and famine simply by selling off their assets. Of course, it would mean that the Pope would have to unload his gold throne and all the priceless paintings on his walls. Nevertheless, I didn’t think the gesture would undermine their credibility. It would be just the opposite: a show of faith in the teachings of the poor carpenter’s son the Church purported to follow.

  But, what did I know about organized religion, finance, or even politics. I looked at my phone. There were no bars. How was he getting a signal? I tossed my phone on the seat and resumed thinking about this Frenchman I’d just met. I was just an old Texas rancher who could recognize a man I shouldn’t trust when I saw him. It wasn’t any special skill. Most people could look at a dog walking toward them and know whether
it was better to cross to the other side of the road or not. Besides, the man still didn’t answer the question about his connection to the Catholic Church to my satisfaction. I wondered what Bishop McCrory would have to say about it?

  I got out of the truck to walk over to the cistern when I heard their large six capacity business helicopter coming in. A cloud storm of dust and dirt swept off the rim of the arroyo above us.

  André was talking on his phone still and motioned me over. It would have been impossible for us to talk over the noise otherwise. I still wondered how he was getting any reception.

  “I’ve just been informed of an emergency at one of my chemical plants. I must leave immediately for the San Antonio airport. I assume we have a deal Mr. Howard?”

  I wasn’t satisfied that I knew the real reason behind André de Lionne’s desire to buy the ranch. I was still suspicious enough that I wanted to talk to Sam Hallinan first. I didn’t know how much I could legally make André de Lionne agree to, if he purchased the property. I wanted some assurances in writing, though. I needed to make sure Hannah could have access to the cavern below the cistern and that Shane would be allowed to finish the land reclamation no matter who I eventually sold to.

  “No, not yet,” I said in answer to his question if we had a deal. “I owe it to the other buyers to hear their offers before I agree to sell to anyone.”

  “I had a hunch you were going to tell me that,” he said. “I will be back in touch with you soon.” He stepped over to James Lee, shook his hand, and said something to him. He motioned to the other investors to follow him and they walked toward the vehicles.

  “What happened?” Hannah asked.

  “He had some kind of emergency,” I said. We stood and watched them walk up the dirt trail we had driven down. André waved at us and smiled. Then they were out of sight and a few minutes later we heard the helicopter lift off.

  James Lee and I rode together on the drive back to the ranch house. “Are you going to tell me what he said to you?”