New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2) (31 page)

“We are not all bad.”

Callie went over to embrace Julio, sympathetic to this
unhappy man who was not a man.
 
“
Of course
you're not.
 
Putting yourself at risk by worrying about
Mathew speaks to my heart.
 
I will tell
him you came to pray for his recovery.
 
I
hope you find the life you want, Julio.
 
For
now,
please be careful.”

Julio walked out with a gentle gliding gait, moving the way
a priest might when going to pray.
 
In
the
doorway
he did not turn to
leave
as much as vanished.

“Glad I came back,” Steve said as he turned to Callie.

“He wanted to guard me even if he might be captured,” Callie
said.

Steve’s left eyebrow raised at the comment.
 
“Of all the cases I have handled in my
career, this one never ceases to amaze me with its twists,
turns
and skids.”

He pulled a chair over next to her where she again sat
holding Mathew’s hand while he slept his drugged slumber.
 

“You remind me of Ivy sitting by my hospital bed in Santa Fe
about this time last year.
 
She refused
to let go of my hand for two days after Cristo fired those bullets stopping my
heart,” Steve said.

“This is hard for you, isn’t it?
 
Dealing with the brother and cousin of the
man who did his best to kill you?” Callie asked.

“I am torn between wanting to make those two cousins
jailbirds and adhering to the requirements in the draft document,” Steve said
and paused.
 
“Callie, we know people can
change.
 
We can find our true selves.”

“And now that you encountered Julio?”

“I can better understand why Mathew and Moll believe their
motives.
 
While Julio and Cruze are out
to save their own necks, they are not without some redeeming qualities.”

Callie placed her head
on
Steve’s shoulder as he sat next to her.
 
“You
told me we each are made up of good and bad parts.
 
I think they are finding their paths to the
good.”

She continued to sit by Mathew, resting her fingers on his
wrist and leaning against Steve, letting the strength he never seemed to run
out of flow into her until she again drifted off to sleep, apprehensive but
comforted.

A week later, Cruze walked into the United Airlines
terminal at Heathrow, sweeping his eyes around the departure area.
 
Following a channel crossing on the
old
ferry to Amsterdam, he and Julio had split
up in hopes of sliding away unidentified as solo travelers.
 
His cousin should join him a little before
the flight today.
 

The big agent was right about the transmitters.
 
They found four of them, one in each of their
left shoes, one in Julio’s briefcase and one in his small backpack.
 
In case they missed any, in one long day they
went shopping, buying new clothing and other items and discarding the old ones
as they went.
 

The big agent, his
wife
and Moll expected to meet them in the international lounge.
 
An FBI legat greeted him at the train station
to furnish him with a passport and ticketing information.
 
While he still worried about trusting the big
agent, the man had let Julio go after seeing him when he visited Mathew.
 

Since Cruze only brought carry-on baggage, check-in went
quickly.
 
Every stop
in
the airport made him worry about this
dangerous journey.
 
Every step down the
passage might mean a step nearer incarceration or death.
 
He and Julio still failed to identify the man
or men pursuing them.
 

Cruze followed the signs to the United lounge, walking at a
brisk pace to act like any other traveler.
 
The door to the clubroom slid open and once more
Cruze
showed his travel documents.
 
From there he walked as directed to a conference room down a hall,
hesitated and then pushed the door open.
 
At the far end of the
long table
,
even larger than he anticipated, stood the big agent.
 
His wife, who Cruze remembered from the
abduction in Portland, sat in front of him.
 
Moll
loafed
up front eating food
from the buffet.
 
Worn and haggard,
Mathew sat in a chair with a sling on his left arm.
 
The woman, who must be his girlfriend, passed
him a cup of coffee.
 
The five of them
made an interesting tableau.

The group appeared uncomfortably alert together, which made
him uncertain of his welcome.
 
Moll set
his plate down and walked over, clapping him on the shoulder like a
friend.
 
The big agent gave him an icy
stare, before nodding an acknowledgment.
 
He saw no sign of Julio.

Cruze went off with Moll to find coffee after confirming the
boarding time.
 
In about an hour and a
half, they should be airborne back to the United States, going first to Miami
to view his parents’ graves.
 
Steve and
his wife scheduled their return to the west coast with Mathew and Callie.
 
Once they were stateside, Mathew’s place
would be taken by another man from their crowd, one a fellow named Brian.
 
All they needed now was Julio.
 

Cruze stood talking with Moll but his mind wandered to his
siblings and how shocked Cristo and Eduardo would be at his reliance on these
people so different from them, including three former federal agents who still
functioned as
consu
ltants to the
FBI.
 
While everyone acted
pleasantly
, they might want to lure him and Julio
stateside to be arrested.
 
Without a
weapon with him, he might as well be naked.
 
He did carry a cyanide pill, acquired many years ago, which he had read
was
a quick
if painful way to die.
 

Even if he trusted these people, how influential did the big
agent remain?
 
The FBI could send another
team to take them into custody.
 
Was the
letter of intent binding or could the Court discount it as part of the FBI’s
capture tactics?
 
He had asked himself
these questions many times in the last few days.
 
Only moving forward would answer them.

Steve walked over with two folders in his hand.
 

“The agreement is still under review at the Bureau,” Steve
said in a deep voice, with less toughness than Cruze expected. “Here’s a
version close to final.
 
Tell me if you
want a copy forwarded to your attorney.”

“Attorney?” Cruze scoffed.
 
“You imagine a reputable attorney would touch this?”

“Yes, I think one will.
 
Talk with Julio about each term.
 
He
is coming, isn’t he?”

“We will be sure when we see him.
 
While my cousin is loyal, he can be
unpredictable.”

Right after the preparation message for their flight came, a
tall,
thin woman in a stylish navy suit
materialized.
 
No one witnessed
her
arrival,
and yet
she
stood inside the conference
room next to the door.
 
Apparently
Julio decided to go back to her
homeland as Annetta.
 
In her big tinted
glasses, brimmed hat and sleek lines, Annetta made a stunning impression.
 
She restyled her hair with
fringe
just showing
around
her
face,
and she wore
soft, flattering makeup.
 
In their years
together with her as Julio, Cruze had forgotten how striking
Annetta
was as
herself.
 

Ivy moved first, then Callie, each one greeting her with
light hugs, like she might be their distant relative.
 
Mathew managed a bare smile at her from his
chair.
 
Moll walked up and cuffed her on
the
arm
as if she were now a guy
masquerading as a woman.
 
Even the big
agent managed a small smile and a nod of greeting.

Annetta went over to Mathew, knelt on the floor on one knee
and thanked him for their lives, before inquiring about how he was
healing.
 
She leaned over, took one of
his hands and kissed it as she might a papal emissary.
 
Her tribute reminded Cruze of his debt of
gratitude to Moll.
 
Each man had rushed
to protect them without a thought for themselves.
 
Such an action of willing self-sacrifice did
not solely come from training but originated in the heart.
 
Cruze would have forfeited his life to spare
Cristo or Eduardo.
 

Steve called him and Annetta over to his end of the
table.
 

“Any ideas on who attempted to follow you or
kill
you here and in Paris?” Steve asked.

“Ideas, yes.
 
People
will line up for the
honor
if they think
we are going to sell them out,” Cruze said.

“Let’s say no one suspects.
 
How many would you have then?”

Cruze shrugged and said, “Been out of the business for two
years.
 
Sure grudges persist, but no one
I can think of.”

“Anyone lately released from prison?” Steve asked, trying to
get any sort of lead on their assailants.

“I keep thinking about
this,
”
Cruze replied.
 
“I can name a dozen or
even two dozen people, but none surface in my mind with
a particular
motivation.”

“Murder a parent, a sibling, a lover?
 
Put someone out of business who might want
back in?” Steve asked.

“Yes, a couple.”

“Annetta?” Steve asked.

Cruze noticed how easily everyone shifted with Annetta’s
change of persona from Julio, almost as if she were a different person.
 
She now showed her true inner
character
, untarnished by years of obtaining
and selling information very profitably.

“Two,” Annetta said, “one in Colombia and one in
Venezuela.
 
Both five years ago or
more.
 
I became smarter at how I did
business when I understood technology better.

“Names?” Steve asked.

“They will be on our list.”

“Your information will be immaterial to us if you are bumped
off in the next three days and inconsequential to you if we can’t protect you.”

Cruze swapped a look with Annetta.
 
She elevated her right index finger the way
she did to approve proceeding.

“We will release those identities to you,” Cruze said and
paused to make sure the big agent paid attention to his next request, “if you
let me relocate my brothers to a cemetery of my
choice,
not in the U.S., where sometimes I can visit them.”

Steve scowled and regarded Annetta.
 
“And you?”

“We
can
contact Mathew
or Moll now and again, such as when we change locations,” Annetta replied.

“Secure service independent of the Bureau.”

“Of course.”

“One more question,” Steve said.
 
“Can you think of anyone – FBI, DEA, border
patrol, police, and so on – who wanted either or both of you incarcerated?
 
Besides me and my cohorts.
 
Think about this with care.
 
Alternatively
do you recall anyone who wanted to be compensated for leaving you or your
brothers/cousins alone, or who you turned down as your paid informants?”

Annetta shook her head.
 
Cruze sat in silence.
 
Steve
waited while he searched his memory.

“One,” Cruze said.
 
“Surfaced about the time you fellows started sniffing around late in
2013.
 
Approached Cristo.
 
Don’t remember his name.
 
Cristo called him PercyNarc because warts
disfigured his hands and moles or similar growths littered his face, along with
pockmarks from the removal of other bumps.
 
I never saw the guy.”

“Agency?” Steve asked.

“FBI.”

“He wasn’t one of your moles?”

“We had three in place.
 
Cristo didn’t think we needed four.”

“Anything in emails or texts about him?” Steve asked.

“Phone conversations,” Cruze replied.
 
“Even we weren’t stupid enough to leave a
trail about our stoolies.”

“No one should call any of you dumb,” Steve said.
 
“I consider each of you the most creative
individuals we have pursued.
 
I
characterize you as intelligent, innovative, and slippery.
 
You led us on intriguing
chases
with your tortuous evasions of the
law.
 
Too bad all four of you didn’t
direct those talents into more legal endeavors.”
 

Steve paused and glanced down at Ivy and over at
Mathew.
 
While they exchanged no words, a
communication flowed among the three of them.
 

“I will send you an amendment,” Steve said.
 
“Before we land, give me the people most
likely to come after you.
 
Moving the
remains of your brothers may take
time
to
sort out.
 
We can add the gist of your
request as another addendum.
 
Might be
easier if we cremated the bodies first.”

Cruze gave his consent for the cremations and said, “You
talk like a lawyer.”

“Each of us earned law
degrees.
We
went right into the FBI and never practiced in the traditional
sense.”

Steve stood, shook out the creases in his trousers, smoothed
down his white shirt and straightened his necktie.
 
Cruze supposed they should be complimented
for
being
cunning
adversaries.
 
To his surprise, he found
Steve to be a remarkable man, harsh and determined with no false bravado, yet
also
shrewd
enough to draw out buried
snips of dialogues from his memory.
 
Cruze
had forgotten all about PercyNarc.
 
He needed to think about him while they
crossed the Atlantic to see what else he might recollect.
 

Moll received a buzz on his phone for their flight.
 
Steve lingered behind on his cell.
 
His wife keyed into her computer, likely
recording their new requests, the short list of the criminals to be disclosed
early and the lead on the PercyNarc guy.
 
Funny he dredged up that fragment about him.
 
Cristo only talked about him the one
time.
 

Cruze left the room and strode up to take a
carry-on
Mathew struggled to roll along with
his good arm while his sweetheart toted an attaché and lugged a heavy bag.
 
He snatched the
weighty
duffle from her too and walked with them to the plane.

His and Annetta’s last expedition to the United States was
about to begin.
 
How it would end
remained a mystery.