New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2)

by Menard, Jayne

  “What’s the schedule for tomorrow?” she asked.

  “Brian and Moll are due down here for breakfast at eight. Whoops, I should have told you earlier. Man, I seem to be wrong-footing everything I do today,” Steve said as he reached down to caress her cheek.

  “How about potato pancakes topped with apples in cinnamon sugar syrup, along with crispy pepper bacon? You can toast up a Challah loaf with raisins and we’ll layout a buffet in the kitchen. What’s the agenda?”

  “First, you and I will brief everyone so we are all in possession of the same background knowledge. Then we will flesh out the demands we will require from the Fuentes. After we draft up our document, I will send the tuned version to the Chief for approval. Next we’ll run scenarios on possible locations. I want to avoid a meeting on any yachts anchored offshore. Too hard to shield our guys and nowhere for them to escape if things go sour.”

  “Public venue?” Ivy asked. “Cruze and Annetta will not walk into an FBI office or police station.”

  “A restaurant or outdoor café, depending on the locale.”

  “You think they are still in-country?”

  “I am guessing they whipped out of here to Seattle or Sacramento or Boise and jumped on a plane to Latin America or Europe, probably splitting up and doing multiple hops to their destination, switching tickets or transportation modes,” Steve said. He finished his transaction and put his laptop aside.

  “Enough on that topic,” he said. “Since we’re going over this with everyone in the morning, for tonight let’s be Ivy and Steve.”

  Did Steve just suggest backing off from work? Ivy decided to enjoy the change.

  “Com’on, Agent Nielsen,” she said. “Let’s chat about our holiday bash while we eat and then go to bed where I can snuggle with you.”

  Together they walked into the kitchen with the two corgis on their heels, undeterred from their hopes of tidbits by having eaten their own food an hour before. Harry turned eleven this year and his coat was starting to turn whiter. Younger by two years, Cleopatra tended to follow Harry’s lead. They protected their turf with the fierceness of much larger dogs, and they had a snoopiness characteristic of corgis.

  Druid the cat peered at her with his slanted green eyes from his favored place on an overstuffed chair in the kitchen. In the evenings, he marked time until he nuzzled by her side in bed after hunting in the fields and under the vines. At thirteen he snoozed more each year, but he still needed his time outdoors, savoring the country air and soaking up the sunshine. Druid’s life was an enticing way to grow old.

  Her ordeal opened her senses, and she found her perceptions sharpened. With the noise in her head kicked out, her most dear loves stood out like 3-D objects against a painted stage set -- Steve, her pets, her close friends and her home.

  Chapter 25

  Two days later, Mathew flew into Paris with Moll, both too jittery to even doze on the flight. They registered at their hotel, slept as much as their nerves allowed and prepared to reconnoiter with the Fuentes in the fashionable 6th Arrondissement at a trendy café called Aux Pres that Julio had texted that morning. As they now jumped into a taxi, Mathew found himself beset with doubts about his ability to conduct these negotiations. Dealing with the mob leader in San Francisco was an attorney-to-attorney discussion either by phone or in the safe confines of the U.S. Marshall’s office. Today they would be in direct contact with two of the wily Fuentes.

  Earlier that morning he and Moll did some role-playing. Now as they neared their destination, he had to lecture himself to remain calm. Seeing the gray buildings with rain tip-tapping on their windows reminded him of another day in Sofia almost two years ago when he and Brian had handled a setup to catch criminals pedaling children to prostitution rings.

  Apart from Brian taking a bullet in his thigh, that operation had gone smoothly. Those felons were incarcerated in a Bulgarian prison. They had succeeded in Bulgaria. They must achieve a negotiated settlement here. Mathew was now the front man. He still had Steve standing squarely, if distantly, behind him. The cab pulled over to the curb, and he nodded to reassure Moll. They would do well here today because the trust of the U.S. government was placed in them.

  Moll gave him his lopsided grin and said, “We’re on. You’re the Big Guy now.”

  They were about to be sitting across the table from the cousins, negotiating the list of demands, including having the two fugitives turn over the identities and crimes of three suspected felons for Steve to verify the quality of the evidence offered to gain their freedom. Mindful that hoodlums hired by the Fuentes might track their every step, they scrambled out of the taxi and entered the restaurant, wanting to give the impression of two businessmen coming to confer on a financial matter.

  The Fuentes, using the name Andada, were seated at a table. As the Maître d’ led them over, Mathew spotted an ice bucket next to the table, along with four flutes for champagne. Cruze sat hunched over his plate, his body tense as if ready to bolt. Julio sat erect with a poised demeanor. His Saville Row suit flowed over him like grass on a gentle sloping hillside. Mathew’s inquisitiveness piqued about Julio as Annetta, since he portrayed a convincing transgender man, sleek and handsome.

  Even as they sat stiffly in their chairs while the waiter poured the wine, Julio took control of the wait staff with a subtle authority. Once they had ordered, Moll took out a terms sheet and handed copies around while Mathew began speaking.

  “This is an unusual circumstance we are in. However certain others the FBI encountered over the years are not dissimilar,” Mathew said. “We will walk through the FBI’s requirements. You will note this agreement, once consummated, will be binding on all agencies of the United States since the Department of Justice will be party to it. The Director of the FBI will sign it, and the District Court will execute its terms in an order. We did not apprise the DEA or any other departments of our collaboration to avoid the potential for precipitate action.”

  Cruze nodded. Though not a college-educated man, Mathew thought he understood the gist of what was said.

  “This pact we are making will apply to the big agent as well?” Cruze asked.

  “Although he is no longer part of the FBI, he will be subject to the arrangement,” Mathew replied.

  “Will he honor it?”

  “Retired Agent Nielsen may be persistent, nevertheless he will obligate himself to this negotiation provided he approves the final version. The formal agreement will include a signed addendum which will mandate adherence by him and his consultants, which includes the two of us. All this is as long as both of you abide by your side of the bargain.”

  Skipping ahead through the document, Cruze said, “You want $200 million from the two of us? What if we can’t come up with so much money?”

  While he said those words with a poker-straight face, a quick evasive gleam in his eyes said he would give on this point. In response Mathew said, “Cruze, we extrapolated figures from you and your brothers’ operations. We traced transactions through banks for the last seven years. We estimate your portion of the pile amounts to more than the $200 million.”

  Mathew shifted his gaze to Julio and said, “Julio, we combed through your tax filings and known finances. Balking at paying this sum is not acceptable.”

  Julio showed no reaction to the amount. Mathew continued looking at each of the Fuentes, “You should consider the human interest aspect. The U.S. Treasury will earmark the money to support educational and counseling programs for disadvantaged youths in Hispanic and Latino neighborhoods.”

  Cruze held his gaze until his eyes lost awareness as his mind shifted and Mathew suspected he was thinking about his youth. If each of the Fuentes applied their talents as entrepreneurs in legal business ventures, Mathew did not doubt their success.

  Julio pressed Cruze’s arm in a restraining gesture and said, “I assume we can negotiate these points.”

  “You may find latitude on particular topics. Not on this one.”

  Wh
en their appetizers arrived, they slid their papers to the side. Mathew started eating while Moll reviewed the next set of provisions. He began in what he referred to as his more polished suit talk. Halfway through his point-by-point discussion of the text, he lapsed into his more colorful vernacular.

  Each of the Fuentes ate at a slow pace as if using each bite to contemplate one of the points Moll discussed. Julio showed refined table manners and Mathew pictured him at stylish parties in Miami or abroad. He anticipated finding the Annetta/Julio transliteration off-putting and yet Julio performed so flawlessly that Mathew found himself able to concentrate on the deal. If he did not know Julio to be a woman, his worldly-chic male persona would take him in completely.

  The two cousins appealed to him in a way he had never experienced with another criminal. They were not all bad, Mathew realized as he surreptitiously studied their faces. He remembered their stories as Ivy related them following her abduction. In other circumstances, Mathew might want to call each of them friends and that thought astounded him. He cautioned himself that it must not influence his stances on matters related to their negotiations.

  The dialogue continued until Moll covered the full contents of the terms sheet. The Fuentes brought up no additions of their own but did ask a few questions and made a couple of comments.

  Julio spoke first, saying. “We need to deliberate the acceptability of each point in this proposal.”

  “Understand. Remember, a short timeline will be the safest. We want two days to authenticate your exemplar submission of possible perpetrators. Nielsen will handle this investigation himself to ensure its performance in the strictest secrecy. No detention attempts will be made until after the agreed document is filed and you once again disappear. The sooner you send the three names to us, the more speedily we can move to resolution.”

  Julio turned his eyes to Cruze, who dipped his head in understanding. Julio took a small sip from his flute of wine, then raised the forefinger of his right hand as he made eye contact with his cousin.

  “Will you tell me about the night Cristo and Eduardo died?” Cruze asked.

  The question startled Mathew, yet it was not illogical for Cruze to ask it. He took a drink of water and responded. “We pursued the collective El Zorro Astuto on and off for a long time until we discovered the location of the house in Madrid. When Cristo returned there for Thanksgiving, we lined up the necessary personnel to disable your extensive security net and move on to the property, both overland and underground through the old mine shaft connecting to the vault off the basement. A SWAT team rushed into the house first, followed by the FBI squad assigned to take over the case. Steve and I and a couple of others tailed along behind them.”

  “Did you see them die? Did the big agent assassinate them?” Cruze kept his voice soft, trying not to reveal either his anger or the depth of his anguish from the loss of his brothers, yet Mathew was certain he must feel both intensely.

  “In front of us, the D.C. based leader told your brothers to drop their weapons. Eduardo said something like, ‘Cristo, I can’t . . .’ and Cristo put three bullets in him, killing your brother instantaneously. Cristo spun and shot Steve twice in the chest. The other agents in the room fired at Cristo. Each of your brothers died instantly.

  “Steve fell over, clutching his chest. Even though he wore a bulletproof vest, the impact stopped his heart. He also lay dead in front of us. The minutes ticked by as the medics made several efforts to bring him back. Thinking he could not be revived, we each stared at Steve horrified. Finally when even the medics began to look panicked, they managed to restart his heart. Steve was breathing again, although he was weak and dazed.

  “Understand this. Cristo rapid-fired all his shots first. Your brothers would be alive if Cristo had lowered his weapon.”

  “And Nielsen’s wife?” Julio asked.

  “She stayed secured in an assault vehicle outside with Moll,” Mathew replied. “Despite the danger, she and Steve are so tightly bonded she wanted to be nearby. We called her and Moll into the house when he went down. Seeing him lying dead devastated each of us, but Ivy most of all. You may not understand this, but Steve is a good man. He is the best man I know.”

  “This Ivy is dependable?”

  He smiled, recalling how Ivy had stepped into their lives, gracious and steadfast, bringing both her characteristic fire and reason. “She can be a powerhouse, but she is trustworthy. While she wanted to be here, she is not . . .”

  “Trained by the FBI,” Cruze said, finishing the sentence for him. “You are.”

  Mathew nodded. “We worked as federal agents. We are consulting in the same capacity now. Even so, we want this matter with you resolved so we can focus on our futures.”

  “We share the same goal,” Julio said with the controlled modulation typifying his speech.

  When Moll played his summary commentaries to the two Fuentes, Mathew could tell he did his best to draw them in, stressing both their obligations and the prospect of living in relative freedom from prosecution. His casual style fostered their confidence. Their body language changed, making them appear less resistant than at the beginning of the conversation. They agreed to touch base by phone at 5 p.m. with Cruze passing them a phone number. The cousins remained at the table when they departed.

  The get-together went smoother than Mathew had foreseen, which made him suspect that the hard bargaining would occur in the coming days. The cousins appeared to be contemplative and not as reactive as they might have been. On some provisos, he estimated a more immediate negative response and yet the Fuentes masked their reactions. Their concern with Steve and his tenacious pursuit surprised him. He had taken his pension and retired until aggressive acts by Eduardo and Cristo had forced his re-involvement. Mathew made a mental note to point that out to the cousins if the topic resurfaced.

  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 discu
ssions, 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.”