He decided to leave the train as intended at Paris Nord, lose the tail and take the Metro to the West End of the Champs-Élysées, wander around, make sure no one followed him and then take another route to their next night stop at Versailles, joining Julio later.
His cell buzzed with a new message.
LKS LK TL. TK CR. J
Cruze was well practiced in how to shake people off. Perhaps not as good as Julio, but he had lost many a person over the years when needed. Unless surrounded or cut-off, he would rather run than attack. With the prospect of his new life growing in his mind, Cruze did not want to put the deal at risk, and he did not want to live as he had in the past.
He brushed the man as he exited, making sure he drew his attention away from Julio. With only a light bag slung over one shoulder, Cruze could be mobile if he needed. As he walked, he searched for signs to the Metro, which connected to the station by an underground hallway. As an evasive tactic, he stepped on the escalator up to the Eurostar waiting area. Going up, the unmistakable poke of a pistol barrel jolted his back with a dull pressure to the left of his spine.
The escalator was not crowded at mid-morning, except for two women up in front of him. Near the top, Cruze tightened his abs, gathered his strength, gripped the handrail and whipped his torso backward, catching the gunman by surprise. He spun to the right, slammed the man’s hand on the rail, saw him lose his grip and topple backward. The two women walked off the escalator at the top. He circumvented them, rushed to the elevator, went to street level, jogged out the main exit and hopped into the first cab in a line, telling the driver to take him to the Arc de Triomphe. As the vehicle started moving, he leaned down, pretending to retie his shoes and disappearing from view in case the man recovered and came out of the station in time to shadow him.
Cruze tempted fate by bumping into the man as he exited the train. Now they needed to get out of the country as speedily as they could. Since the big agent had another day to verify the three criminals they passed over, they should leave today for Switzerland or Belgium and devise their plans from there. He could ask for protection from the FBI. They were already reliant on the FBI for their ultimate freedom. Should he turn to them now?
He left the taxi at the Arc de Triomphe, squinted up at the structure and slid into a crowd of people headed down the Champs Élysées. As he walked, he thought again about contacting the two agents. Slowing his pace, he telephoned the number they had given him. The phone went to voice mail. He left a message with the name of the small coffee shop where he now stood. He scanned the room as he walked in, ordered a café au lait and waited for the drink. After stirring in two sugars, Cruze went to sit down. After about ten minutes, the door opened when the two former agents hurried in.
Mathew’s face registered recognition, and he prodded the other man. The Moll guy gave him a lopsided grin and the two men placed their orders.
“Hey man, how are you?” Moll said by way of greeting, holding out his hand for a fist bump.
Cruze reciprocated and nudged a chair over with his foot. Mathew dragged another one over from the next table, and the two men sat down.
Mathew studied him and said, “Something happened. Your eyes keep jumping around.”
“A gun poked me in my back this morning,” Cruze replied. “One of yours?”
“No,” Mathew said. He stared at him for a moment, as if assessing how open he should be. He flicked his eyes over at Moll, who smiled back encouragingly.
“Back when we left the restaurant yesterday. Only a sensation and a glint of glass. Now agents are covering us. One should be across the street. They are only cognizant we are here on a case. No particulars. Tell me about this morning.”
Cruze related the chain of events and sent Moll the photo he took. The two men frowned at the man in the picture and Moll forwarded it to Steve for identification against various criminal databases. Mathew selected a number on his phone and then related the particulars on Cruze’s experience. He talked for a few minutes before clicking the phone off.
“We’re all going to take the Eurostar over to London and fly out of Heathrow. Steve made one positive confirmation on the criminals you turned over and expects the other two to be sorted out by tonight. Where’s Julio?”
“Versailles, losing himself in crowds of tourists.”
“Your luggage?”
“Stored at Gare du Nord.”
“We’ll grab your bags on our way. Tell Julio to find us in the Eurostar Business Premier Lounge.”
Moll held out his iPhone and said, “Train to St. Pancras at 1:13 p.m. See if Julio can make the time. If not, we get stuck with an hour and a half to twiddle. Mathew, I’ll grab our stuff at the hotel and catch you at the station. What about our pal trailing us?”
“Steve will handle him.”
The rapidity of how the two men acted impressed Cruze, never doubting the veracity of what he had told them. Nevertheless he struggled with his reservations about trusting the big agent. “Before we leave for the States, Julio and I need the agreement, otherwise . . .”
“You’re concerned we might arrest you,” Mathew said. “Doubt the copy will be finalized. How about a letter of intent executed by the head of the Bureau?”
“I suppose the big agent is getting the letter too,” Cruze said with a scowl.
“He obtained the document on a contingency basis. We’ll pick it up in London.”
Cruze sat back for a moment thinking, before he muttered, “We’re dead men walking if any of our old associates are after us.”
He looked Heylen in the eye and said, “We prefer death to incarceration. If we are cornered, feel no qualms about shooting us and you must aim to kill.”
Mathew regarded him steadily, likely remembering how his brother Cristo had peppered Eduardo with bullets, even though it meant instant death for them both. Moll started to object.
“You must attempt to escape or fire at us,” Mathew said, struggling to keep emotion out of his voice. “We will not murder you.”
Cruze smiled even though his face was sad when he said, “Never encountered men quite like you before.”
When he went to dial his phone to reach Julio, Mathew signaled for him to stop and said, “Surveillance gear might pick up your signal. Mine’s scrambled. Use this phone.”
He reached over and took Mathew’s phone and keyed in Julio’s number, reaching Julio on the third ring. After explaining the situation, he hung up. “Ticket us for the 1:13. Julio will be there. Don’t bother to look for him. He will simply appear. That is his way.”
Chapter 27
Picking up his email in the town car sent for them, Mathew noted Steve made reservations for them at the boutique hotel where they had stayed the previous Christmas. He also reserved four business seats to Miami for the next morning. Next to him, Mathew sensed Cruze tightening with anxiety when the town car nosed down the small St. James Place into an apparent dead end.
Julio stepped out, read the name, smiled and said, “Delightful choice. I have wanted to stay here. Cruze, over there you can walk to Green Park or up to Piccadilly.” He pointed out an easy to miss, narrow walkway through a building.
After a gracious welcome and arrival at their adjacent rooms in the Carriage House, Julio almost purred with contentment on seeing their sumptuous two-story suite. He glanced over his shoulder at Mathew and said, “I guess the big agent has redeeming qualities. Dinner is on me. I will book a table.”
Moll and Mathew went into their room where he called Steve, knowing he waited to hear from him.
“Great digs,” Mathew said by way of greeting. Moll prowled around, his eyes wide with appreciation. Mathew decided to let Moll use the bedroom and enjoy the full extravagance while he took the sofa bed.
“All going smoothly?” Steve asked.
“So far. Worried about the tail after Cruze. We overnighted their phones to you from Gare du Nord.”
“The Letter of Intent is in your safe folder. Print four copies for sig
nature. An FBI legat will be there in about an hour with new cells where communications will be scrambled. Did you scan all laptops and tablets for bugs or trackers?”
“Found nothing. I cleaned each device anyway.”
“I dropped an alternate package on Moll’s server. Run it on each unit to test them again. Via secure email, shoot me a copy of the letter of intent after the Fuentes add their signatures.”
“Any more on the two remaining exemplar people of interest?”
“One yes. Strong financial creds. Been under investigation before. Nothing was proven.”
“The other one?”
Moll signaled he was going to shower. Mathew nodded, loosened his tie and kicked his shoes off. Still listening, he walked over to open a bottle of water and take a drink.
“Squeaky clean thus far,” Steve said. “We should receive lists of technology purchases as well as financial records in a few hours, which might give us some indicators. That cyberpunk is the one I want. If she penetrated Sentinel’s security, she must use powerful and sneaky programs. The Chief is talking with his contact at the CIA to have the fellows who did the audit last year check Sentinel again. This will be done without reference to the Fuentes. Why don’t these people put their remarkable brains on making a positive impact on the world instead of gunking it up?”
“Be educational to find out. Working with the cousins is fascinating,” Mathew replied. “They are not wholly bad. Sad no one ever convinced them they could succeed in legal ventures.”
“They wanted to gain money and power quickly. Unless you are a Steve Jobs or a Bill Gates, that can be one difficult path. The Fuentes are smart and not only street-smart. These two may achieve a second chance to experience a decent life. Let’s see if they can stay alive long enough to find the right side of the law.”
“One more thing,” Mathew said. “Julio has a new item. This one is a bit dicey.”
“Dammit Mathew. We can’t keep making changes and pull all this together.”
“Hear me out. Julio’s perverse father never changed his will, nor did the mother. The daughter Annetta, aka Julio, inherited the estate which consisted of both the alleged drug profits and legitimately earned money as well as other properties and possessions.”
“The assets were distributed to Julio?” asked Steve.
“Yes and he put all the money into a foundation to support organizations giving refuge and guidance to abused children. The arrangements are the usual thing where grants are reviewed and approved. The account is administered by Credit Swiss. The board is comprised of the four, now two, Fuentes. In reality Julio makes all the decisions on how any monies are disbursed.”
“And?” Steve asked.
“Here’s the intriguing part. Julio decided to turn over those positions to me, Moll, Ivy and you. For obvious reasons, he will step away.”
“Whoa, that is at least in part dirty money.”
“Over two decades ago Steve,” Mathew said. “We lack any indications he, or she back then, had any involvement in his father’s drug business. I think continuing this beneficent trust on Julio’s behalf is right to do. No authority ever prosecuted his father.”
“Let me think about this and discuss it with Ivy,” Steve replied. “If she is supportive and I become comfortable with the responsibility, I will take a proposal to the Chief. I don’t want any of us besmirched by granting their request. Send me the balance in the fund, both at the beginning and now. Tell Julio to direct the annual financials for the last five years to me, along with the legal papers. What do you and Moll think?”
“We can handle serving on the Board. In some ways I find it an honor, as crazy as that sounds. Anything we can do to benefit youth, we ought to do. After the child trafficking case in Bulgaria, child abuse causes became more real. The issue merits our backing.” he said.
Mathew paused to take another swallow of water and resumed. “Remember the CCE Foundation?”
“Don’t tell me Cruze is asking for the same thing for the fund he established with his brothers?” Steve asked.
“He is, as long as the proceeds are used for the original purpose of sponsoring safety programs in poorer Hispanic communities. What did the Bureau do with the money in the CCE Foundation?”
“Those Foundations can be squirrelly. Attempts to touch the money might lead to a court case dragging out for years. We can’t infringe on its resolution. Is he considering the same conditions with the four of us?”
“You got it,” Mathew said.
“Even me, huh? I thought the brothers considered me enemy number one,”
“Cruze said Cristo referred to you as his nemesis. In 2013 when we started sniffing around, Cruze told his brothers he wanted to leave.”
“So he says.”
“The timing supports it.”
Mathew heard the faint tap of Steve hitting the end of a pen on the desk the way he did when assessing an issue where each little beat reflected an aspect resolved on his mental checklist. The slow, staccato patter meant he was exploring the possibility.
“I’ll call you with my decision on this later today,” Steve said when the tapping stopped. “Mathew, I don’t need to tell you these are bizarre additions. The establishment of the two charitable trusts does show that they have a conscience. What else?”
“Nothing much. Julio is taking us to dine. Someplace swanky.”
“Could be a trap.”
“I believe he wants to show his gratitude for our help and for you reserving the wonderful accommodation for them. This may be his sole opportunity to take us out,” Mathew said.
“Still don’t like it,” Steve said.
“We will be on a plane with these two for the next few days. The agreement must be signed, and the names turned over. If this dinner helps grease the skids, we should go. Besides the first meeting with them could have been a setup. The coffee shop hookup . . .”
“Understand. Be armed and don’t lose the London-based agent when you go out. You want a town car?”
“Julio is scheduling one from the hotel,” replied Mathew.
“Text me when you leave. Again from the restaurant and when you arrive back.”
“You want a tracker installed in the back of my head?”
“I might consider the option if you take too many risks,” Steve said with a grim chuckle and ended the call.
Moll came out into the room wrapped in one of the complimentary fluffy terrycloth robes and with a big grin on his face.
“What a pad!” Moll said, then looked at the clock. “Yowza, better give Brian a jingle. What’s the time in Boston?
“About 12:30 – mid-day,” Mathew said.
“Pitch for the newbie should be over,” Moll said, grabbing his phone and selecting speed dial.
Mathew walked over and moved Moll’s suitcase near the closet. He took his and opened it on an ottoman. In a few days this mission should be done, and he could be back at Spook Hills with Callie and moving on with his life.
Ivy worked in the office while Steve went for his daily workout and swim. When his cell phone rang, she answered it, pleased to hear the Chief’s voice. He might be retired, but he always made himself available for her husband. She talked with him as she walked towards the pool to turn the phone over. Seeing her, Steve flipped back to the end of his lane to towel off, grabbed his robe and jogged over.
“Hey Mule,” Steve said into the phone. “Sorry to keep pestering you. This is one weird requirement from the Fuentes.”
Ivy kept her attention on the recap of his dialogue with Mathew. What they asked on the foundations might take months to sort out, which none of them wanted. From what she heard Steve echo back, Mule suggested incorporating the gist of it as a term to be finalized later as an addendum. The circumstances with each fund might be murky on transitions of board members with two of them dead and their estates now held by the FBI.
“One other thing,” Steve said. “No one should be aware of where the Fuentes are, right? Well
, except me, Mathew and Moll. Any thoughts on how the tail and possible assassin found them? I want to rule out a renegade agent from our suspects.”
Steve was silent and then said, “Their phones have been overnighted to me. Mathew will pop his and Moll’s into a DHL box as soon as the Legat gives them new ones. They scanned all their devices, and they are redoing the search now with a new detection program I sent him. What can you tell me about current technology, like sneaking an implant into a shoe or whatever to serve as a geotag?”
He listened again. Ivy recalled a newscast on the elderly with memory loss issues tracked by transmitters implanted in their insoles. She wished Steve had put the phone on speaker.
“I’m wondering about a geotag about dime-sized and inserted into a heel or hidden in a change purse,” Steve said and then paused.
“We’ll work on it.” He hung up and headed for his laptop to do quick research, talking to Ivy as he went.
“Once we find descriptions of these geotrackers, I’ll call Mathew even though he’ll be out to dinner by now. If the Fuentes unwittingly carry one, their location will be made. Why didn’t I think of this before? For someone to plant a GPS communicator, they accessed their clothes, wallet or other belongings when they vacated their hotel room.”
“Why haven’t the cousins been killed?” Ivy asked
“Someone wants information and that could nix this deal we are making,” Steve said as he began mousing around the web.
Tucked in a Mayfair side street, the eating place Julio chose was celebrated for delectable French food with an adventurous twist which incorporated elements of traditional English dishes and cleverly wove in snippets of Asian flavors. Their table stood in the center of the room where Cruze faced the door to the street. Julio sat down and selected champagne to start, this time a Veuve Clicquot. Conversation floundered since revealing their situation or plans here would be unwise. Moll began talking about his business, bringing a sardonic smile to Cruze’s face.
“So you are still after bad guys laundering money?”
New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2) Page 25