New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2)

by Menard, Jayne

  “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. Nemesis 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. We need to travel light. More 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.

  Part III: Taking Charge

  Chapter 26

  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 b
arrel 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 securit
y 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.

  Right when the commuter train signaled for departure, a man stepped on who might fit Julio’s description. Once the man started to turn away from him, Cruze snuck a photo with his iPhone and sent a text to Julio.

  TL MY CAR? C U LTR. C