Old Growth & Ivy (The Spook Hills Trilogy Book 1) (11 page)

"Mathew, handle things
here.  Do a quick search for where the kids were sent in the past. 
Then get the files and computer equipment inventoried and packed for
shipment.  I’ll send the jet back here right after we land.  I want
that stuff transported to the Bureau office in Bern with as much of our team as
you judge are not needed here.  If you find any locations where the other
kids were sent in the U.S., send them to Moll right away so he can start
coordinating the takeover of the brothels and rescuing those children.
  Any in other countries will go to the legats in Bern for
coordination.  Also see if you can find any backup media on-site or where
they might have backed data up offsite so we can access an audit trail of past
events."

"You got it.  See you in
Bern."

 "Hard to believe that these
kids are the lucky ones."  He nodded towards the children in the
cells.

A large team of social services
workers led by two FBI legats came in.  Steve noticed how shocked their
faces were when they saw the children incarcerated in cells.  Nonetheless
they quickly recovered and worked out a procedure to take the children a cell
at a time.  They would then do the research needed to move them back to
their families or into foster care.  Two FBI legats would oversee that
aspect of the operation.  Lenny came back down after ensuring that Matka
and Dragomir were cuffed, in a squad car and on their way to be held for
trial. 

"Lenny you fly with me, Brian and
a medic to Bern.  From there, I'll dispatch you to the nearest city where
we have to free more children."

Lenny sadly regarded the rescued
youngsters as the first group filed submissively out of a cell, following a
social worker.  He gripped his submachine gun resolutely and said gruffly,
"Send me to every site you find.  No kid should go through
this." 

All those weeks of planning, all those
scenarios Steve had the team practice, all the technology, the agents, and the
local arrest team, worked out.  Nothing ever went 100% according to
plan.  This operation came close and their impromptu actions were
flawless.  Even though he wished Brian had not been shot, Steve was satisfied
with the results.  Unless something absurd happened in court, Matka would
serve her life out in Bulgaria's penal system.  As part of the deal that
the FBI legats had negotiated with the Bulgarian authorities, Matka's assets
would be seized and ultimately directed to local children’s programs.  The
third of the million wired that morning would be returned to the Bureau.

With the arrests made and following
their plan, Mathew organized the on-site work effort to do quick scans for
leads and then called Moll to be on standby in the New York office to organize
local FBI and police teams for raids of the child prostitution centers.
 They had to act fast so that the local perps would not relocate the
children before the FBI teams could shut them down and rescue the children.
 They also had a team standing by to take phone calls and respond to
emails that came in to Matka so that the communications would stay intact,
giving them a longer window of time.

Mathew and two other agents flew to
Bern that night, joining Steve at the FBI office where they would methodically
comb through the computer systems and archive tapes searching for additional
information.  They distributed copies to agents in New York and Washington
to hasten the analysis work.  Lenny flew out to join the local shut down
teams as if he were a jet-setting action hero.  Another team reporting to
Mathew would track and arrest the so-called recruiters who stole children from
their homes. 

Steve stayed with the team in Bern,
working around the clock to force fast action on having the brothels shut down,
arrests made and children in the hands of social services, using the leverage
of his position at the Bureau to gain local cooperation, both within the FBI
and with local police forces and governments. 

On the following Monday in Bern, Steve
had the FBI team assemble in Brian's hospital room where he was recovering from
surgery.  Working quickly, Steve set up the FBI equivalent of a Skype
station on his laptop and hooked it to the TV screen in the hospital room. 
He had cameras and microphones pointed towards Brian and himself.  He was
on his cell talking, and then the Director of the FBI appeared on the screen.

"Special Agent Tovey, we are here
today to recognize your achievements with the FBI and to honor you for your recent
performance in a critical case during an operation in Sofia."

Brian's surprise showed on his face as
he scrambled to push himself up straighter in the bed, wincing when he moved
his hurt leg.  Steve adjusted the camera and microphone, then nodded to Brian
to respond.

"It was a team effort, sir. 
I only did what was necessary in the line of duty."

"That is not what I hear from
Special Director Nielsen.  Agents often put their lives on the line in the
call of duty.  You also had to put your reputation on the line. 
Nielsen, would you elaborate?"

"Yes, sir.  Not only did
Special Agent Tovey perform his impersonation superbly, as required for this
sting and under very adverse conditions, he also had the courage to take a
bullet for a fellow agent.  Only a courageous man and outstanding agent
would perform either one of those valiant acts.  Brian Tovey did both
during the most important humanitarian sting I have been on."

Steve opened a box and held it towards
the camera.

The Director continued, "I find
it an honor to present Special Agent Tovey with the FBI Medal of Valor. 
Usually we make these presentations in Washington, however given your injury,
we decided to advance the timing.  Agent Tovey when you are able to
travel, please come to Washington and get on my calendar.  I would like to
talk with you in person.

"For the rest of the team, thank
you for your many contributions to the FBI and in particular for bringing this
case to conclusion.  You should take pride in knowing you resolved a critical
humanitarian case.” 

Steve handed the medal to Brian who
appeared dumbfounded by the award.  Mathew found himself smiling during
this presentation. The FBI has four of these types of medals, which are highly
prized when awarded.  Steve glanced over at him and he nodded his
approval.  All too often Steve was impervious to what he asked of agents,
yet today he found a way to make every agent in the room feel it was worth
it. 

Mathew noticed that the other agents
treated Brian with more respect.  No one made jokes about his masculinity
or his impersonation.   Receiving the award awed Brian, and yet he
remained the unassuming man he had always been.  Maybe that sting made him
more confident in who he was.  Mathew discerned that the public
recognition contributed, as did the knowledge that he had the courage to save
his best friend.  

They continued working with local
authorities in the U.S. and in other western countries to shut down the
brothels and start to rehabilitate the children, although they wondered how a
kid finds any kind of life after the kind of experience those children went
through.   During this time, Steve was often impatient, pacing
around, responding snappishly and acting preoccupied, even though he was
determined to see it through.  Mathew could tell that he was eager to fly
back to Frankfurt, pick up his personal cell phone and hear Ivy's reaction to
his email.  A couple of times Steve tried to break away and fly out,
however some new communication or finding would keep him in Bern.  Rescuing
those kids still trapped in their hellish lives kept him going. 
 Besides as long as his personal cell phone stayed untouched, he still
could hope that Ivy had called him.  Mathew regarded him with new
admiration.  He was glad to see Steve wanted to be in a relationship based
on truth and trust.  He smiled to himself, thinking of Steve's worry about
Ivy --
at Spes non Francta
,
but Hope is not
Broken
.

Nearly two weeks had passed since Ivy
emailed Steve and no call back had come from him.  She was holding onto
the hope that he was in the field and unreachable, yet she wondered if a sting
took this long.  In the movies they were always fast-paced with the agents
in and out with lightning speed.  How long would one of Steve's operations
last?  Would it have made a difference if she had responded to him the
same day that he sent the email? As the days stretched out, she was
increasingly worried that he would never call, fearing that he found the Ivy
beneath the surface not what he expected.

How foolish she had been not to ask
for a response one way or the other.   He may have so romanticized
her based on their limited contact, that what she revealed in her email might
have tainted her in his eyes.   If Ivy's life was bleak before she
met Steve, how much more desolate it would be now if she had lost him.  He
set a new standard for her expectations of what a man could be.  While
they had known each other only a short time, she would have trouble finding
another man to step into those big shoes of his.  Even though she
suspected that he had read her email and the truths it contained turned him
off, Ivy still hoped he would call.  She began to wonder if she should
call his personal cell.  She carried that thought with her to bed that
Tuesday night of Thanksgiving week and fell into a fitful sleep.

Four hours later, Ivy's cell phone
rang.  She fumbled for the light and grabbed the phone out of her purse,
clicking it on with a sleepy hello.

"Ivy, its S . . ." Line
dead.

She dialed him back, hearing only a
fast busy signal.  Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she glanced
at the clock.  Two a.m. -- she entered a quick text, hoping it would go
through: "U
CLLD
?  CALL or TXT
ME."  She waited.  Nothing.  She tried dialing again. 
Same fast busy.  She was about to email Steve when the tone signaling a
new text sounded on her cell: "
TKNG
OFF. DP FF.
U ME GD.
CLL
U SEATAC.
YR
BG."  She sure hoped that meant "Taking Off.  Departing
Frankfurt.  You and I are good.  Call you from SeaTac.  Your Big
Guy."  SeaTac -- Seattle!  He was heading her way.  She
could feel herself smiling.  Suddenly the tiredness that had been plaguing
her was gone.  She jumped up and twirled in a circle, picking up Druid as
a dance partner.  The corgis shook themselves awake and wriggled at her
feet as she began sashaying down the hall and into the kitchen.  Steve
would be here in her house this afternoon! 

Suddenly her mind was racing with
things she had to do before he arrived.  Luckily the housecleaners were
scheduled for the coming morning.  She would have to leave work early and
stock up the house with groceries.  She went to her wine closet to check
her inventory, noting that she should pick up a bottle or two of
champagne.  Her first order of business was to make a couple of lists –
things to get done and all the food and munchies for the long weekend. She
decided to make a reservation at the coast for two nights.  It would be
rainy and windswept, but even so the Oregon coast was irresistibly
romantic.  All through these thoughts, her heart kept humming – Steve is
on his way, he still likes me, he wants me!

***

Steve flew from Frankfurt directly to
Seattle, calling Ivy at work as the plane taxied to the gate.  He cleared
immigration and customs, checked case progress with Mathew and ran for the next
flight to Portland, texting the flight number to Ivy as he scrunched himself
into the small seat on the shuttle flight, sitting with both legs stuck out in
the aisle.  Although he had slept for a time on the plane out of
Frankfurt, the long weeks on the case had worn Steve out.  Even so, his
heart buzzed with triumph that he and Ivy had survived their first
crisis.   He needed the comfort of her calm assurance, he wanted to
watch her smile at him and he longed to have her soft yet strong body near
him.  These cravings for another person were new to him and the dependency
made him uneasy, but Steve recognized if he failed to forge ahead with this
stimulating woman, he might not have another chance at a broader life.

As soon as Steve called her from
Seattle, Ivy scooted out of the office, did an accelerated shopping trip for a
full turkey dinner and then zoomed out to the airport to pick him up, weaving
through side streets to avoid the backed up holiday traffic on Interstate 84.
 How wonderful their reunion was when she ran towards him the moment he
rounded the turn into the airport walkway where she was waiting.  He
dropped his bags and engulfed her in his embrace.  They stood, hugging and
kissing, oblivious to the crowd of holiday travelers pushing their way around
them.

After battling the traffic on the
drive back to her house, Ivy was in the kitchen putting away groceries. While
she was worried that the long weekend could be a disaster if they realized they
had nothing in common, the airport greeting was a good start.  Hopefully
the magical evening and breakfast they shared a few weeks ago marked the
beginning of a promising relationship.  While she pushed things around in
the fridge to make room for the turkey, Steve was out in the living room,
coaxing some logs in the fireplace into a steady flame.

"Ivy, Ivy, Ivy," he
whispered coming into the kitchen.  He pulled her into a big hug, stepped
back, gazed at her intensely, and then kissed her so tenderly and so long, that
Ivy thought her heart would burst. 

"Oh God, holding you is like
coming home.  You feel fantastic in my arms.  My Ivy
Vine."  He bent down again and nuzzled her neck. 

“Steve, I am so glad you made it here.”

"You smell wonderful, like baking
spices and yet like you too," he whispered in her ear.

He kissed her again, this time more
deeply, pulling back reluctantly and leaving her wanting more.

"Why don't you show me
around?" he asked.  Cleo and Harry followed them as they moved to the
front of the house.  The two corgis had given him an excited greeting and
inspection, trying to figure out who he was and why he was in their
house.  Steve poked his head in Ivy's office by the entry foyer and then
tried out the easy chair in the little library nook off the hall.  He
checked the bookcase, his hands lingering on the spines of books as if they
were treasures.  From there, they stopped in the open dining room to pick
up glasses of pinot noir. 

Opening the door to the little upper
deck off the living room, he checked out the distant lights in the misted view,
the driveway below and the pots of herbs, smiling when he turned back to
her.  The house was built into the hillside with the living space on the
upper floor which was street level.  The downstairs was for the garage and
the guest rooms. 

The kitchen had a thorough going over
as he poked through what she had bought to cook that evening.  They walked
through a small den that was open to the kitchen where he went out to the
larger deck and checked the views in all directions.  Down below was the
backyard, its walkways dotted with white winter pansies in pots.  Steve
was quiet, only sometimes asking a question or making a comment.

"Are you always this
thorough?"  Ivy asked, as he nosed around the big pantry and the
laundry room. 

"Have to be."  Steve
stopped then and glanced at her as if realizing that a man on a date usually
behaves differently.

 "I should explain. 
First I am curious.  I want to see where you live, so that when I'm not
here, I can picture it in my mind's eye.  For instance, if you say that
you are curled up with a book, I'll know what that chair in the library area is
like."

"And second?" 

"You know that I deal with high
impact cases against big-time bad guys.  One of them could come after
me.  While that has never happened, procedure dictates that I have to be
prepared.  Most importantly, I don't want to endanger you by not being
familiar with the layout of your house."

"That's comforting," Ivy
said drily. "I suppose you want to see the bedrooms too."

He arched an eyebrow at her, making
her blush.  She led him down the hall to her master bedroom, letting him
step into the room first while she watched him from the doorway.  Suddenly
Ivy was a bit leery of this big man prowling around her house.  After all
how well did she really know him?  Steve peered out the windows and then
stared at her big bed with its curving metal frame.

"Ivy leaves," he
muttered.  "Her bed is decorated with twining ivy leaves and
vines." 

His color rose as he realized he had
spoken aloud.  They each took a big sip from their wine glasses and headed
downstairs where the guest rooms were.  He checked the window locks and
then stood quietly with Ivy while the corgis took a break in the fenced
yard. 

"They from the same litter?"

"No.  If you look close, you
will see they are really quite different in markings, body shapes and
personalities, however both have big corgi hearts."

Ivy whistled for the dogs, clapped her
hands and watched them as they flew past in that romping way corgis have, ready
for their dinners.  Steve and Ivy sipped wine, ate crab cake appetizers by
the fire and talked while she cooked.  Steve assigned himself to cleanup
and had things rinsed and in the dishwasher almost before they hit the
sink.  When Ivy could, she glanced over at him and realized that he
appeared more tired than the last time she had seen him.  She noticed that
Steve only sipped a little wine and she asked if the pinot was okay.

"Wonderful.  Soft and
delicate.  Full too.  Rather like you, it deserves to be
savored.”  He would have liked to have winked, but it was a skill he had
never mastered, so he just gave Ivy a subtle smile.  He found it endearing
that she blushed a little at the compliment. 

“Besides Ivy, I am really tired and I
don't want the wine to put me to sleep, so I'm pacing myself."

At their dinner in the open dining
room, Steve ate everything Ivy had prepared for him and then finished her
salmon and sautéed potatoes too.  After a tossed salad of local organic
greens, Ivy suggested that they poke up the fire and have dessert in the living
room.  Steve had two helpings and then sat back, eyeing the rest of the
tart.  He sighed, pulled Ivy closer to him, and they reclined together,
cuddling close without talking.  Ivy felt warm and safe in Steve's arms
and her earlier concerns drifted away.  The evening was turning out as she
had hoped.  She snuggled closer to him, only to realize that he was asleep
with his arm lying heavily over her waist.  Her seductive powers were
simply not working that night.

She had a bed made up for him
downstairs where he could sleep his cares away.   She tried to rally
him.  He woke up, snuggled and kissed her sleepily, then mumbled. 
"Need hotel.  Call car." and he fell asleep again.  She
managed to pull him to his feet in a semi-conscious state.  Moving him was
difficult and Ivy knew she would never get him down the stairs to the guest
room.  They stumbled along the hall and he flopped on her bed.  Ivy
tugged his shoes off and then with some half-conscious help from him, wrestled
him out of his suit, shirt and socks and into bed, pulling the covers over
him.  That was it -- he was gone into a deep sleep.  She hung up his
clothes, set the house alarm, put on a lacey nightie, grabbed her robe and went
downstairs to sleep in the guest room.

The next morning at about eight, after
having the dogs out for their morning walk, Ivy came back into the house. 
The master shower was running, so she went to brew fresh coffee.  Within a
few minutes, Steve came out, hair still wet, dressed in a crisp white shirt and
suit pants.  He gave her a lingering kiss and asked where she had
slept. 

"You missed a glorious
night," Ivy teased him.  "I slept in my bed and took full
advantage of you."

His jaw dropped in surprise. 
"You're kidding, right?"

"You'll never really be sure,
will you?" 

"That was the best and longest
night's sleep I've had in years.  Usually no matter how tired I am, six
hours is my limit.  Most of the time I only get four.  Did I dream it
or did we eat a wonderful pear tart in front of the fire?" 

He began snooping around in the
kitchen.  She moved to pour him coffee. 

“When does the turkey go in?”

“Let me get breakfast done and then I
can worry about the turkey.”

“I thought I might mix up some bloody
marys or mimosas or something and we could watch the Thanksgiving Day parade on
TV.”

“Mimosa for me.  Sounds like a
plan.  We have no schedule today, except relaxing and getting to know each
other.”

“Now that is a plan!”

They spent the day bundled by the TV
in a little den off the kitchen that Ivy called the cozy room with its big
windows and warm gas fireplace.  Sometimes they would be in the kitchen
cooking or pulling on raincoats to walk the dogs.  Steve admired their
holiday feast when it was ready late that afternoon and ate more turkey,
stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy than Ivy thought one person could
hold.  After dinner, they took their wine in by the fire and cuddled, this
time more passionately until Steve pulled back.