"The PC12 is a fabulous single engine turboprop aircraft designed for short runway takeoffs and landings, perfect for island hopping. I talked to Snuffy, who constantly was blowing his nose into a red handkerchief then stuffing it into his coveralls. He was once an RCAF mechanic and the owner of the aircraft. I asked him about a short term lease with option to buy. Then I gave the Pilatus PC12, tail number N77BF, the ultimate test by flying to the Cayman Islands where I checked up on my bank accounts. Shannon, remind me to talk to you about keeping track of my financials."
Take care of his financials? What was that about?
Reddy continued, "Then I was off to Santa Domingo, dodging a small but violent storm which forced me to land for the day until it passed. The skies cleared by 4pm the next day so I decided to make the final leg before landing on Saba Island's very short runway just before the sun set. Dooley's clinic on Saba is loosely affiliated with a USA funded Medical School where Dalisay and her two friends are now training and working.
"I did a combat landing onto the short tarmac airstrip at Saba and taxied to the hangar where I refueled and tied down. That's when I knew I had to own this PC12 because it handled so beautifully. I trekked the hundred yards across the beach to a hotel and collapsed into its porch hammock from exhaustion. Before I was fully asleep, Dr. Penshaw, the Director of the Dooley Clinic and School on Saba, came up the steps onto the porch and welcomed me to the island. Dr. Dooly had texted him that I would be arriving soon and that I wanted to interview three young women who had come from Belize and Guatemala to get educated and become either nurse practitioners or doctors. He had his assistant contact the three young women.
"Exhausted from all the travel, I soon fell asleep in the hammock on the porch of the hotel, probably missing a fabulous sunset. Maria Cruz returned in my sleep, beckoning to me. I had been having recurring nightmares for weeks about, Maria Cruz, and they were mixing with tortured memories of my first wife Anne and Shannon Lee."
I thought, recurring nightmares must be another genetic thing we Burtons share.
Reddy continued, "Doing all this flying, I decided to lay off the tequila and lime for a while. Even so, the nightmares kept returning, each night, every time with a more vivid image of Maria Cruz. Her long silky black hair hung halfway down her bare back as she rinsed the soap off in our outdoor canvas-sided shower. She sure was beautiful. However, when she turned and faced me, there was something pleading, haunting and beckoning to me at the same time. Silence always prevailed. She never spoke, and it was as if she was desperate to tell me something."
"He told me later he wanted to ask Dr. Matte if we dream only in silent movie form, black and white, without sound,” Dalisay said. "I asked him who was Dr. Matte?" She was so silent after entering the room that I was startled when she spoke.
Reddy went on, "On my first morning at Saba my dreams continued, in full color this time. I was staring at Maria Cruz. Her face was framed by long black hair tied in a pony tail with a lime green rubber band, her light brown skin unblemished, and her big brown eyes showing not a trace of fear as she starred back. However, this time she was speaking, or trying to say something. Color and sound. I must be awake, I concluded as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
"Salaam Alaikum and buenos dias Señor Burton. Ms. Sara-Clare emailed me to be on the lookout for your arrival. Not much happens on this small island without everyone knowing, especially the arrival of aircraft and their passengers and crews," the face said.
"I wasn't dreaming. I was being haunted by a real live ghost, at sunrise no less. I reached for my canvas shoulder bag and pulled out the three photos of the girls for whom I was searching. I looked at them and handed one to the girl, "This photo does not do you justice. I wish I had a picture of Maria Cruz for comparison," Reddy said.
Dalisay cut in and said, "I told Señor Burton that I do not know for sure where I was born and I have no knowledge of my parents except for a small silver locket with a faded photo. A nurse gave it to me and I think she was taking quite a risk. She whispered to me that it was a picture of my mother. I unclasped the silver chain and locket from around my neck and handed it to him. I swear he had a tear in his eye when he passed the locket back to me."
The locket photo was that of a young woman only slightly older than Dalisay.
Reddy returned to telling his Saba story, "Tina and Mindy came to the hotel an hour later. Tina's heritage was definitely Arab, and her blue eyes twinkled with enthusiasm. She was wearing a white nurse’s outfit, with a hijab scarf made of local lace dyed black that covered her jet black hair and loosely draped around her neck. Mindy was an Amir-Asian who actually jumped off an Arab dhow off the coast of Yemen to escape her husband. Both girls greeted Reddy in Arabic and he replied in kind. They smiled when I introduced myself as a friend of Ms. Sara-Clare.
"Tina told me that Sara-Clare had found her in the PI at the same time she rescued Dalisay and Mindy and took them all to Belize where they all became interested in medicine and the healing arts. I then asked her if she knew of a three year old girl that might also have come from Arabia. She did. A friend had texted her that a new girl of age two or three had arrived at the PI clinic from Singapore. She spoke Arabic and the rumor was that they were making plans to transport her and another girl to what they called the education center to be taught Arabic language and the customs of Islam so that they will make proper brides for some oil millionaire by the time they reach their twelfth birthdays.
"Tina did not know for sure where this training center was, but I thought I did. After nearly searching in every nook and cranny of Asia's most notorious ports, I finally caught a break in the Zubaida case."
By now Shy and Comet were certain that the new girl was one of the good people, so they slipped out the back screen door for a break. They returned before she finished her hojicha. It was as though they didn't want to miss the rest of her story. Dalisay's history soon pieced together as she spoke a bit reluctantly of some horrific times in her past.
Dalisay spoke in a soft but clear voice, "I was forced to have sex with my elderly Arab husband in the Emirates near Dubai. He beat me for trying to deny him so I decided to run away. I had seen trading dhows sail along shorelines and anchor in the bay at Sharjah. I asked a servant whom I trusted to take a message to the captain of a dhow that frequented the bay. Eventually I ended up in Manila and later at the clinic in Luzon where Ms. Sara-Clare interviewed me. She brought Tina and Mindy and me to Belize to train and work as nurse's assistants to Doctor Dooley. The doctor is a gentle and kind man and he trained me as a nurse and called me a quick study for such a young lady. Soon I was also a mentor for other child bride victims, some of whom were also brought to Belize by Ms. Sara-Clare."
I soon found that I enjoyed Dalisay's soft tones and crisp English, mixed with the occasional Arabic, Spanish, and French words. I barely noticed how talkative she was, something I generally found unattractive in a young woman.
Soon we were talking of Doctor Dooley and his five clinics, one on Saba and two each in Belize and Guatemala. His cancer was terminal and rumors of his impending death had circulated around the Caribbean and spread as far as Asia for months. Everyone wanted to know if the clinics were to be sold to the Parks’ Clinics when the doctor died. A representative of the Parks' Clinics had visited Belize a few weeks earlier.
I made a mental note to call Ms. Betty-Sue Curfew to see what could be done to block the sale.
"What a horrible thought, the Parks spreading their child slavery business to Central America and the Caribbean. The area already has enough drug and slavery problems without another player." I said.
Reddy concluded, "At first I wasn't sure Dalisay was my daughter because she insisted she was eighteen; however, I knew she had to be twenty. However, then the clue about the three year old Arab girl beckoned for me to head back to Cheju-do. Could she be Princess Zubaida’s granddaughter? It was a long shot, one I had to follow quickly since I was also searching for the kidnapped granddau
ghter of a Saudi Princess. I started to tell you about the Zubaida case a few months ago. The three girls in Sara-Clare's interviews had some further information on a recent rumor I picked up on at the Mansions. A three year old girl of Arabic descent had been seen at the Parks’ Clinic in Singapore and was being transferred to an education center. That clue got me scrambling back to Singapore on the track of Zubaida's granddaughter.
"I knew what copious records the Parks keep so I sent the info about the little Arab girl to Hamish and asked him to get whatever records might exist. The next day someone broke in to the Park's Singapore Clinic and secured several files. The records were written mostly in Mandarin. Hamish sent me copies and said he would send the rest when they were translated and analyzed. One computer file contained a document that detailed - place of birth- Luzon, mother died in child birth- date of arrival in Singapore- the date matched the four months after the deaths of Maria Cruz's family by terrorists. I did the math; Dalisay is twenty years old, not eighteen.
"Bingo! One mystery solved," Reddy said, adding "I had already decided in my heart that this girl was my daughter; however, this sealed the deal. I had to get back to tell her. However, the clue about the three-year old Arab girl also beckoned me back to Cheju-do.
“When I got the translations from Hamish of the Park's Singapore clinic birth records, there were two lists of clients and their child brides. They confirmed that one baby girl was named Dalisay. You know that I am not big on luck. However, I definitely ran into a bit of serendipity in this instance when Hamish got back to me with information that tied the Zubaida case to Dalisay's case and to Anne and Shannon. The Parks were involved in all three cases. I thought back on when I received a copy of Anne's death certificate, signed by Dr. Evel Park Senior and a copy of Shannon Lee's signed by Dr. Evel Park Junior.
"Two documents were crucial: Document 11 that read: Sold, 12 March 2004, to AK, UAE, brunette aged 12 with grey eyes, Amir-Asian, parents deceased- mother Philippine- father American, names unknown, and Document 34: Relocated, 15 April 2013: Transferred to island for training, 3 year old Arab, black hair, blue eyes, parents deceased, sold to CG, America. Deposit € 250k. Due date: 2022.
“When I received the text from Hamish regarding the documents I had sent him, I knew I needed to follow up immediately on Zubaida's case and the Park's Singapore Clinic clue regarding the three year old Arab girl who was being transported to 'the island’; it had to be Cheju-do. However, first I needed to return to Belize and Saba Island and welcome my daughter into the Burton family.
"In Belize I completed the paperwork on my purchase of the PC12 and took off, island hopping across the Gulf of Mexico and half the Caribbean to Saba Island. During the entire flight my mind was buzzing with thoughts I had never entertained before. Not only was I a father for the second time; I also had a family. Two beautiful daughters, one now an educated scientist and a damn good shot, and the other a nurse in training to be an MD. They both spoke several languages as I did, and damn if they weren't about the smartest women I had ever met.
“When I arrived for the second time in Saba, Dalisay met me at the airstrip. I told her she was officially twenty years old. She began to cry and said, 'Señor Burton, you are my father.'
"’You have a sister, Shannon Lee, and you’ll like her." Reddy said softly, gesturing at me.
Tears were running from her eyes. "At last," she said, "now I have a familia."
I could see that he was about to burst with what Matte loves to call a 'Eureka!' moment. "Let's start up a family business," Reddy said. "We can call it Burton's Family Business.”
That evening I contacted Dr. Matte. "He has another family, or I should say had one," I told Matte that evening as we chatted on Skype about Dalisay and the ever growing nature of the Burton family.
"By he, I assume you mean Reddy, and not some mysterious new boy friend you’re not telling me about," Matte replied.
"Angie's the one with the new boy friend, a CIA agent no less. Of course I mean Reddy," I replied.
Matte said, "I do believe you’re jealous of a girl you’ve only just met. Take two aspirin and get over it, and welcome her into the family."
Matte was right, so I decided to sit back and look at the big picture. I began trying to put all the Burton family pieces together. Father- Reddy Burton; first daughter - Shannon Lee; second daughter- Dalisay; Angie; and of course Shy and Comet Bear. Then I also remembered Michaela. She rounds out the family, at least until I find out who she is, that will have to do for now.
Recently Reddy has been dropping hints about starting Burton's Family Business and taking his skills off the reservation. He repeated that he wanted me to take a look at his financial records. "I need to encrypt these records in a way no one but you and I will ever be able to decipher them, Swiss and Cayman Island bank accounts and all."
Linguistics being one of my specialties, encrypting his financial records should be a piece of cake. "Okay, it isn’t as if I haven’t enough work already. I’ll do the books in my free time."
I leafed through the ledgers, one each for the past two years. These ledgers were Reddy's only records of his post-government assignments and they didn’t tell much of a story. There were no names or initials associated with deposits. Withdrawals were few and far between. No wonder he called these savings accounts.
"You are one expensive dude, minimum fee €300,000. Payment in advance by wire transfer in lump sums of Euros 45k or less, to a secured and private numbered Swiss bank account. Funds are irregularly transferred to and from several Cayman accounts,” I said. "For the past two years, there have been regular deposits and they now total €3.2 million. My father's a millionaire, Wow!"
"This is only one of my accounts," Reddy said as I closed the ledger. "How did you figure out the €300k was my fee?"
"I simply added up the deposits in clusters by dates. You know, four deposits totaling approximately 300k were made between, 1-5 June 2012." Those dates coincided with the assassination of Dr. Evel Park, Sr.: however, Reddy didn’t take the bait.
"The CIA is trying to put a restriction on these accounts; however, Swiss banks have provided this anonymous service for many decades. Times are changing and there’s a lot of international heat on the Swiss banks to reveal the names of numbered account holders for tax reasons, so we may need to find another method for storing our deposits in a secure manner."
"Does any of this money belong to the government?" I asked. "Is that at least part of the reason for the two CIA agents visit?"
"No, not really, they covet the prototype sniper weapon I'm building in the basement," Reddy replied.
Not wanting to drop the topic of Reddy's other family that kept running through my mind, I asked, "Is Michaela the name of your second wife or your daughter?"
"You remember that after your graduation from UC-Berkeley, I began building the workshop in the basement!" Reddy said, adding, "Would you like to see what I've been building ten feet below where you live?"
By then my curiosity about what he was doing in my basement was hitting a twelve on a 10-point scale.
He showed me a laptop that was unspectacular to say the least. At least in appearance. Then he held a tiny insect like object in the palm of his hand.
"What's is it?"
"It's a nano-tech/neuro-robotic wasp drone."
"It does look like a wasp, a miniature mechanical wasp."
Then he told me the history behind and the details about what he was building in my basement.
"It's a sniper weapon that operates much like a miniature drone aircraft."
"This is a prototype of a design I started while between assignments at the Virginia labs located underground at CIA HQ. I designed, built, tested, and liberated it, before it could be put to even more evil uses than what I hoped to use it for. All this weapon needs for a target is an infrared signature or image on a computer screen which could be as far as one to two kilometers away and I hope to increase that range.
"
This means the target can be zeroed in whether it's day or night. The computer guidance controls are contained in this lightweight titanium alloy briefcase. The wasp is armed by punching in 911 on the briefcase lock. If the wrong person presses any number after this, the hard drive and the rest of the insides turn to ash in seconds without a sound and with no noticeable outer damage to the casing."
"If all this is your own design why is the CIA after it?" I asked.
"To their way of thinking I stole it; however, I don't see it as theft. One day, a few months ago, I hid the briefcase in the security truck as it made its regularly scheduled departure from HQ to the maintenance yards for a three-month checkup."
"Sounds like theft to me."
"How could I steal something I alone created in my spare time, even if the CIA provided some of the technical equipment needed to create it. Besides, I was concerned about collateral damage."
"Collateral damage?"
"Yes, collateral damage." Reddy replied, adding, "For the most part, when a government sanctions an assassination, they try to limit collateral damage. However, it has been my experience that the assassin can't fully eliminate hurting or killing innocent people even though the target or targets are very specific."
He looked at me with his steely grey eyes as if peering into my soul before he told me why he is building the perfect sniper weapon.
"What I have shown you is an almost perfect sniper weapon. Only two people within the CIA even know that it exists. It is essentially a miniature drone, so tiny that it contains only enough explosive to kill a single target. In short, no chance for collateral damage if the assassin is accurate. Plans for the next prototype include a headset that links a chip in the shooter’s brain to the wasp projectile and actually tracks it to the target as the shooter watches the target on the laptop screen.
"I call her Michaela, as the female for Michael, the Christian archangel of death, a good angel."
Flower Girl: A Burton Family Mystery Page 7