Old Growth & Ivy (The Spook Hills Trilogy Book 1)
Page 25
Chapter 21
About two the following Friday afternoon, when Ivy, Mathew and Steve were visibly outside working, from inside the house Fred nervously made his phone call to the perps. Steve attached a recording device to the cell phone, so they would have proof of the conversation if needed.
"Hello, this Fred."
"About time."
"The guys, they stick around, only out one, two at a time."
"When?"
"Tomorrow. They go to wine thing. Portland. They leave noon. Back by four."
"All of 'em?"
"Not me and not our assigned agent." Fred was so nervous, the phone almost slipped out of his hand. He tightened his grip.
"Okay kid. You get yourself out to the old barn. Stay there."
"Uh, one thing."
"Yeah?"
"Furniture delivery between noon and one. Go in house."
"Got it."
The day of the setup started right on schedule with the borrowed UPS van arriving at 10. The boxes containing the agents were carefully unloaded into the barn. Once out, Steve briefed the agents on how the operation would proceed. One agent in regular clothes would stay in the barn to protect Fred or to rush the house if needed. The others would be disguised in long, flowing white, silver and gray gowns made of layers of a shimmery material and donned over white coveralls. Each one was made to look like a spooky Halloween ghost. Among the agents, there was some laughter and then some soft grumbling about how to keep the eyeholes lined up, but the agents soon realized that Ivy had made headbands with Velcro that solved that issue. Each one first climbed into white coveralls. Fred had constructed a stand inside each outfit that consisted of a platform, a vertical back post and horizontal shoulders, which the agents could lean against, with their feet on the platform giving them balance. Steve checked them out, gave his approval and walked away, smiling to himself and feeling pleasantly surprised that Ivy pulled it off.
Once suited up, two ghost-agents were wheeled outside on a handtruck and put in front of the barn, on either side of the sliding door. Three ghost-agents were laid on a trailer along with the corn and the pumpkins. Mathew used the tractor to tow the trailer down to the front with Steve, Mathew, Fred and Ivy holding all in place. Once at the bottom, they first put out the corn shocks, then the pumpkins, and finally the ghosts. The greatest challenge was keeping their laughter under control, especially when lifting the robed agents onto the handcart to get wheeled into place. Now they truly were Spook Hills. Brian took a few photos of the finished setup. A light breeze was blowing, adding to the effectiveness of the long, tattered, spooky costumes.
By noon the agent-ghosts were at their posts. "Operation Spook Hills" was underway. Ivy, Mathew, Brian and Steve jumped into the Suburban and waved goodbye to Fred, reminding him of the furniture delivery. In the rear view mirror, Mathew watched him walk out to the barn, his shoulders hunched with worry.
The exchange at their neighbors was fast. Brian sealed the other three into the boxes and then he was sealed into one himself by the two local agents posted at the neighbor’s. One agent put three dummies in the Suburban and drove out, heading for Portland. The other agent drove the truck with the boxes, circling around and driving up to Spook Hills. From inside the boxes, they could hear Fred come out and open the back door of the delivery truck. They could either feel or hear him sliding each box onto the hydraulic tailgate, and then lowering the boxes down. Fred and the agent-deliveryman wrestled the boxes into the house using a handcart. The agent left to drive the truck to Dundee, ready to return when called. Fred tipped over each box on its side, pulled off the tape and quickly Mathew, Steve, Ivy and Brian crawled out, staying low to the floor. They kept well away from the windows and crept on their hands and knees to get into position. Fred then hurried out to the barn, where he would wait with the agent posted there.
By 1:00 everyone was in position. Ivy was in a protected area on the floor of the kitchen behind what would be the big island. Brian was in the stairwell, ready to sprint upstairs or down, depending on where the action took place. Mathew was on the lower level where he could guard the sliding glass door to the patio. Steve had the front entry. They waited.
At 1:30 a black Toyota FJ Cruiser sped up the drive. Steve knocked on the floor twice, signaling that the action was about to start. Five hoods piled out, three with submachine guns and two carrying incendiary devices. Four of them circled around to the back of the house, which meant they planned to enter downstairs. Mathew and Steve had displays of temporary security cameras on their iPads, allowing them to watch the perps as they crept around the house. Steve signaled over to Brian to duck downstairs to join Mathew. Like at the Portland house, the perps shot the door lock off the lower level entry.
When Steve knocked on the floor, Ivy called the FBI who would alert the local police, as well as send additional agents staged nearby. Steve saw the perp who stayed out front start to plant explosive devices around the house. Brian and Mathew waited for the intruders to get inside and then opened fire. The man out front ran for the Cruiser. Steve jumped to open the front door and shot him in the left leg. The perp crawled into the car and backed at top speed down the drive. From his position by the sign, Lenny whipped up his submachine gun and opened fire on the car's tires. The action was over in less than five minutes. They had one dead perp and two wounded ones. Each member of Steve's team was unscathed. The plan could not have gone any better.
Agents and police screeched up the drive, followed by ambulances and a fire truck -- no one was sure why the fire truck was there. The Cruiser had plowed off the road into a ditch that ran along the edge of their property. Lenny kept his gun on the perp. Steve jogged down the drive limping a little, pleased that the cobbled-together team performed expertly.
The local agents carefully packed up the explosives the perps had brought, along with their weapons. Steve had their own firepower secured. He would always defend his lovely Ivy, his home and his friends. That was his role during Operation Spook Hills -- to stand and protect. It was a new role for him. He had always been the aggressor in FBI actions, but he found the new role better suited this time in his life.
Once the perps were taken away, they set out a buffet on the worktables in the barn and Mathew opened wine for the agents. Each of the agents in the ghost and ghoul outfits had their pictures taken, both standing in position and with weapons out. They also took a group shot of the whole team in front of the barn. Fred was placed front and center in the photo as their honorary agent, due to his key role in the operation. Between the success of the set-up and the comic twist of the agent-ghosts, a party atmosphere soon developed.
Steve liked using Astuto's own tactics against him in the childish approach with the agent-ghosts. Now with this threat behind them at least for a time, they could turn their full attention to running the Fuentes brothers to ground. Steve wondered when that mail in Santa Fe would be picked up. He so wanted to be moving forward in his relationship with Ivy and bring delight into her life instead of danger.
An FBI team out of L.A., handpicked by the Chief, would do the interrogations. Back at Spook Hills, they would see the transcripts after each session and could call in questions, allowing them to be at the vineyard in case a second round of attacks took place. Since the operation left Fred’s family too exposed to stay where they lived in Dayton, Steve arranged a safe house for them in Salem. His Dad was still in alcohol rehab and according to Fred, he was doing well. Everyone hoped that this was one good thing that would come out of the menace of the Fuentes.
***
The next Wednesday morning out in the barn, they were slogging through more research when Steve's cell phone rang.
'"Chief. Moll here. A man who fits our description of a twin picked up the mail. I hi-tailed it out the back door and jumped in this old dusty pickup truck I bought. Just pulling on a plaid shirt and cowboy hat so he won’t realize I’m from the post office. What now?"
"Is he outside yet?"
"Follow carefully and at some distance. Do not let him think we’re onto him. I'm putting you on speaker."
Steve laid his cell on his desk and motioned them over. "Moll's got what looks like one of the twins. He's following."
"Subject turned into a shopping center. Parking. Locking up and heading to the supermarket. I’ve got these great sunglasses that have a camera in them. When he comes back, I’ll try to get a photo."
"Give him two minutes in the store, then walk casually over to the van and plant the tracking device. Once that is in place, get the hell out of there to a vantage point. Be as far away as you can."
They waited, listening. They could hear Moll slide under the van and then a quiet, "In place." A car passed. They could hear Moll's boots on the pavement.
"Shit. Must have pre-ordered. Here he comes with a loaded shopping cart."
Moll's footsteps kept the same slow pace. Then he stopped. "Think I got a shot of him. Groceries stowed. Van locked again. He's going into a deli. From what I could see, the van already contained a dozen big boxes loaded towards the front."
"Get back to your truck and find the tracker on your laptop," Steve instructed.
They heard Moll walking back to his pickup, humming some country western tune. With the tracking device transmitting, Moll could follow the van at a long distance to avoid getting spotted. They heard his truck door open and then shut. He started the engine. They waited, still huddled around Steve's cell phone
"Photo on its way to you," Moll said. His normally casual voice was tight with tension.
"Tracker transmitting?" Steve asked, fiddling with his PC.
"Yeah. Got it on screen. You can pick it up too."
Steve clicked his mouse a couple of times. The mapping software came up and they saw a little flashing light staying still.
"Great work Moll. Stay cool now. Keep out of sight. Remember, we don't want him to even think we know about him."
"Got my cowpoke hat on partner," Moll said in his joking way. "There's a shotgun in the gun rack and I'm sporting a three-day stubble. Picked up some old jeans and shirts at the Goodwill. If this pickup gets any dustier, it will choke and grind to a halt. I look so local, even the locals are envious."
Ivy was smiling to herself at the thought of Moll acting like a good old country boy.
"He's moving." Steve kept his voice steady although even long distance, his abs tightened from the thrill of the chase. "Hold where you are."
"See him. Turning this way."
"Hang loose. Look away from him. No eye contact as he goes by."
"Got my hat tipped over my face, elbow out the window, and an eye on the screen on the seat."
"Let the subject run solo."
"Went by without looking towards me."
They waited and watched the map and the blinking light of the tracking device as the van made its way out of Santa Fe.
"Heading south towards an artsy town I explored last weekend called Madrid."
"Take off now but don't rush it. Stay out of sight of the van."
The four of them watched the van's progress on the map and exchanged words now and then with Moll.
"Madrid coming up. What should I do?"
"Pull into a side street. Stay out of sight."
"Okay Chief. Wish to hell you were here."
"No action today. Surveillance only. Keep your distance."
"He stopped. Going into a burger joint I ate in last weekend. Good burgers with chili and sweet potato fries."
At the barn they stayed quiet, so tense that it was hard to breathe. Steve opened the email that Moll had sent with the photo of the Fuentes twin. While the shot was a bit fuzzy, to their eyes the man was identical to the passport photos from the money laundering companies. This appeared to be the man without the scar on his forehead. Steve would have the Bureau run their facial recognition software for more certainty.
Moll stopped humming. “Heading to the van with a bag of take-out. Man would I like another one of those burgers.”
The flashing dot start to move again. This was such a critical time. If they lost him, it might be another month before they could repeat the action.
"Heading northwest, up by the town cemetery."
"Follow. No closer than a mile and more if the road opens up or goes straight. Watch the screen. Signal could weaken out where you are."
"Turning left."
"Hang back. There aren't many houses here according to Google maps."
"There's like nothing here but dirt roads and some trees that are barely a step up from sage brush."
They watched the progress of the red dot over Google maps.
"He turned right onto a washed-out, long driveway."
"Stop and hold. Pull you hat down low on your face. Get out, head to the opposite side of the road from the house and make as if you are taking a leak. Do not look at the house. They might have some long distance surveillance gear."
They heard the pickup door open and then slam.
A couple of minutes passed. The door opened and shut again.
"Had you on mute. Leak done."
They exchanged a look and shook their heads -- only Moll would have actually taken the leak.
"Drive straight on. Do not pursue him. Do not even turn your head towards that driveway."
"Roger."
"Go about the right speed for the road. When you can, get back to a highway."
"Okay."
"What's at the apartment?"
"In Santa Fe?"
"Yeah."
"Goodwill clothes -- that's it. Got the creds, roscoe, laptop, surveillance gear, duffel and the three eyes with me."
"Three eyes?"
"IPod, iPad and iPhone."
Steve laughed. "Perfect. Drive to the Albuquerque airport. Grab a flight out to Seattle and have the Bureau office there verify that no trackers are on any of your electronic devices. Buy some new clothes and leave the Goodwill ones in the trash. Once you know your gear is clean, get back as soon as you can. Great work, Moll! We'll get an agent to empty out your apartment and sell off the pickup. Call when you board at Albuquerque."
"Got it, Chief. Can't wait to bunk down again in Fred's trailer. Never thought a trailer would sound good to me. More as the trip progresses."
Steve ended the call and placed his hands on his keyboard. "Let's get back to work," he said calmly, although inside he was jumping up and down with excitement over finding a location for one or more of the brothers.
"But Steve," Ivy protested, "When do we move in?"
"When we can prove this is the perp we’re after."
"What more do we need?"
"Think about it. We have a theory. We have hunches. We are seeing links. We need definitive proof before we move in."
"What if we can't get more proof?"
"Ivy, what if we are wrong? We would risk harassing or even shooting innocent people. We can’t do that. We don't do it. I want these clowns at least as much as you do. However, we must have a solid case. We might be the Spook Hills gang, but we're still FBI, not some renegade vigilantes."
Ivy glanced over at Mathew and then at Brian. Mathew nodded. Brian shrugged and nodded too.
"I get it," Ivy replied reluctantly. Then she smiled at Steve, appreciating that his stance was one reason she loved him. He personified those three words in the FBI seal and motto -- Fidelity, Bravery and Integrity. She so wanted him to send a SWAT team in that day and have it done and over. However he was right -- innocent until proven guilty.
"I'm going to find the name of the property owner," interjected Brian.
"I’ll review those interrogation sessions again from Operation Spook Hills. We have to find a way to make one of those guys crack," Mathew said.
"Is it possible . . .?" Ivy began tentatively and then stopped.
"What?" Steve said a trifle impatiently.
"Nothing."
"Ivy, remember -- no wrong questions and no bad ideas. Half-baked ones, maybe. But that is why we work together -- to take ideas as far as they will go."
"What if those guys from Operation Spook Hills are telling the truth?"
"That they have no idea who paid them for the job?"
Ivy nodded. "Are there rings of thugs that are organized and paid by central dispatch?"
"What makes you think that?" Steve moved away from his laptop where he had started working and scooted over to her in his rolling chair. The air was becoming chillier in the barn and Steve had on one of the striped turtlenecks and fleece tops they bought the first long weekend they spent together. To Ivy, he was sending out delightfully masculine vibes. She was amazed that at 63, feelings of desire could spring up just looking at Steve. She had to struggle to bring her mind back to their conversation.
“Ivy?”
"Oh, uh, the Cruisers. Like a fleet of limos. Lined up for the next job."
"You think each contract fee is so large as to cover a new Cruiser for as many times as they wreck them?"
"Too far-fetched, huh?"
"Too damn perfect. Mathew," he said scooting back to his own work area.
"Get info on large sales of black Toyota FJ Cruisers. On it, Chief." Mathew said without raising his head.
"Kruiser Killers," Steve muttered. "National network or maybe west coast. I'll get a run on cases in the last two years where the perp drove a black FJ Cruiser."
"Might want to check fleet sales," Ivy ventured.
Mathew shifted his eyes over to her and rolled them. "On it. What are you doing?"
"Checking carjacking rates on FJ Cruisers," Ivy responded quickly. "All colors. They could always repaint them."
Ivy saw Steve do his classic one eyebrow raise at Mathew and they gave a little nod to each other that confirmed she was adding value in their research work. Ivy focused on her laptop, determined to find something useful to further their case against Astuto.
***
While Steve kept his cool on the outside, inside he was brimming with exhilaration now that they found a likely location for Astuto. Brian's research yielded ownership information on three adjoining blocks of property near Madrid totaling about 500 acres, including one with a house on it and one with an entrance to a defunct coalmine. Maybe the three Fuentes planned to retire there, with each brother having his own plot of land. Steve found the existence of the mine interesting as an escape passage or a storage area. He checked online resources and found that the town of Madrid had a thirty square mile coal-rich area that petered out over 100 years ago. Lead and turquoise were also mined in the area.