New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2) (6 page)

“So stupid of them.
 
Cristo was obsessed with believing he had the power to always outsmart
his rivals in the drug world and the law.
 
Eduardo never seemed to accumulate enough money.
 
Building his wealth was his sole focus.
 
Even when the FBI and DEA started coming
after us, they would not give up.”

“And then the Mexicans wanted to take over all aspects of
the drug trade.”

”Another
considerable
threat,” Cruze said.
 
“The drug honchos
in Mexico kept wanting more of the action.
 
They began by
transporting the
street product throughout Mexico and into the United States, before starting to
take over the repacking and redistribution.
 
When the Mexicans wanted full control of moving bulk heroin out of
Colombia, I left the business because my brothers refused to accept the end of
what they considered Fuentes Enterprises.
 

“I feel guilty, Julio.
 
I missed my brothers after I left them but
the truth is this past year was my happiest one since childhood.
 
While I was beginning a new life, my brothers
were gunned down.
 
They never saw the
dawns and the sunsets that I have watched.”

“You did what you had to, Cruze.
 
Do not feel guilty.
 
Your brothers would not be swayed away from
their lives.
 
The only outcome that would
be different is that you would have died with them,” Julio said.

“I need the names of the agents who did this travesty,”
Cruze said.

“Risky.
 
The work will
cost you,” Julio replied.
 

“Money I have.
 
We
split off my share when I departed. When will you leave your dangerous life?”

“I only delayed for you to make contact. While I searched
for you, even with my proficiency, you had vanished.
 
Since you are allegedly dead, I didn’t want
to use my regular sources.
 
No sense in
raising any speculation,” Julio said.
 
He
twirled his flute of champagne back and forth in a slow, meditative motion, his
brilliant blue eyes dulled by sadness and anxiety.

“After you decide what to do about this business,” Julio
continued, “I will lose myself on the continent, enjoying the many
cosmopolitan
cities.
 
Once in Europe, I will use my best
disguise.”
 

He elevated his sculpted brows that showed below a short
cascade of dark curls, burnished with artfully added shades of amber.
 
The bracelet dangling on his right arm was
made of three thick strands of white, rose and yellow gold
woven
into a braid and studded at each twist
with a sapphire.
 
A slim gilded
timepiece
was adorned with matching gems
encircled his left wrist.
 
He selected
his jewelry to be as lustrous as his appearance.

“How long will you need to get the info?” Cruze asked.

“Not so easy breaking into federal computer systems.
 
Might be as long as two weeks.
 
Call me.”
 
Julio wrote a dollar figure down on a business card and handed it to
Cruze.
 
“The six million dollars will
cover the fees for multiple computer hackers to find the particulars you want.”

“And your fee?”

“Never have I nor will I take money from you or your
brothers, except as now to pay for expenses.
 

Cruze leaned forward and asked in a soft voice, "Could
this be another of their setups?
 
Think
they conned two actors to play in another of their charades?
 
Is it possible that Cristo and Eduardo are
yet alive but staying incognito?"

The question did not surprise Julio.
 
Sometimes he wondered the same thing. As the
weeks turned into
months,
this
thin
hope was becoming a vague filament only
entering
his
thoughts when he needed
comfort.

Trying
not to raise
Cruze’s false hopes further, Julio asked, “Leaving all the money and minted
gold bars behind, as well as the larger amounts in their network of
accounts?"

"That part does surprise me.
 
Perhaps
Cristo
and Eduardo
were forced to make a fast exit."
 
Cruze
knew his
supposition was
improbable, but he needed some small thread of hope to
hang onto.
 
The shock of his brothers’
deaths sat raw and
dark
within him.

Cruze said, “If Cristo and Eduardo were caught or killed,
their money laundered by numerous convoluted routes externally from the United
States might also be gone.
 
To me their
wealth is immaterial.
 
My share was
protected.
 
It will more than exceed my
requirements, even if I lived far more extravagantly than I do now.”
 

“If your brothers escaped with only the shirts on their
backs, the four of us could still live in comfort using your financial reserves
and mine, which I will gladly share.
 
Alternatively
if Cristo and Eduardo are dead, a
part of you will also die.
  
I know your
brothers will always carry your love and allegiance,” Julio said.

“Forever they will be my brothers, as you are my cousin,”
Cruze smiled sadly and took a drink of champagne.
 
“Did you know that after I was finally
released from juvie, Cristo and I cut our palms
and shook hands
, taking a blood oath to protect Eduardo?
 
Such a kid thing to do, right?
 
Even so, the events of that horrible summer
of 1985 made our bonds of allegiance stronger.”
 

They sat in silence for a few moments, toying with their
food and remembering their teenage years when all four of their lives went all
topsy-turvy.

"Nine months have elapsed since the FBI raid in New
Mexico,” Julio said.
 
“Cristo would have
phoned me, if not you."

"He was furious with me for getting out of the
business."

"But he was not angry with me.
 
In answer to your question, it is possible
that they had their deaths enacted though unlikely."

"Find out where their bodies are.
 
I want DNA tests done," Cruze said.
 
I
must know
for sure about Cristo and Eduardo.

"The DNA results will give us certainty.
 
I miss them, Cruze.
 
Every day I think of them.
 
Your brothers.
 
My cousins."
 
Julio lowered his head.
 
His jaw clenched, relaxed and clenched again
as he suppressed tears.
 
"I always
wished one day we would all walk away, start over and live more
normal
lives.
 
And yet, I’m not sure Cristo and Eduardo could make the transition.
 
Cristo’s style would
be to go
down fighting."

"The same way Eduardo believed himself infallible at
outsmarting his foes," Cruze said, shaking his head sadly.
 
“While I hate to admit it, my brothers may
have orchestrated their fates.
 
They
taunted the FBI and DEA with their phony setups.
 
They did have the ill luck to be pursued by a
relentless FBI agent, but they could have exited when I did.
 
If only they had!”

"We may only have each other left," Julio said, “I
was so glad to get your call this week.”

"We need to be certain about what happened to Cristo
and Eduardo.”

Julio pushed his plate away after only nibbling at his
entree of delicate Pompano.
 
"I have
to go."

“Do not forget me,” Cruze said with such wistful softness
that Julio’s
self-control
almost shattered.

"Never."

Julio took
a last
infinitesimal sip from his flute, collected his briefcase and the bag
containing a partial payment from Cruze.
 
Cruze
stood,
and they gave each
other their traditional farewell – a horizontal fist bump with a pound on their
hearts.
 
In their case, the gesture came
from familial love and commitment.
 
Ever
since their childhoods together, Julio had chosen to be loyal only to himself
and the three Fuentes men.
 

Understanding Cruze’s depth of agony from the loss of his
brothers, Julio gave him a subtle smile and
winked
to remind him of their bond.
 
His cousin
remained the only person who comprehended the real identity behind his facade.
Under his man’s clothing, his body reflected his birth as a female child named
Annetta, who during her late teens had fashioned herself into a man of style
and
information, known in the underworld simply
as Julio.
 

With a tall, slender and flat-chested torso and narrow hips,
Julio resembled an Italian male model.
 
Even as a child, he had dissembled, sliding away from somber
conversations, avoiding arguments and learning how not to be seen.
 
Like now,
Julio
found sitting with Cruze and facing the reality of the brothers’ deaths too
painful to endure.
 

He walked briskly along past the shops in the mall.
 
Even in these chic surroundings frequented by
movie stars, people regarded him with admiration as he passed.
 
Julio smiled to himself, glad to still be a
metrosexual head-turner in his early forties.
 
He
slipped into a shop to
disappear.
 
The
fashionable
mall functioned as one of his
haunts.
 
He
tipped the sales
staff in several shops to let him use their back doors.
 
Wherever he went, he always plotted a safe
departure path.

On a warm Thursday morning of that same week, Mathew sat
on the green knoll near the tree house where the contractor was winching up the
walls.
 
They had closed on the additional
property late the previous afternoon.
 
With all the paperwork in
order, he
was coordinating
with an architect
to
obtain the required building permits.
 
First
on a nearby slope,
he
planned a manager’s cottage, expanding an
existing small house into a duplex with
one-half
for Lenny and the other for Fred.
 
On the
far
side
of a third hillock, he foresaw a
gravity-based wine facility, allowing the liquid to flow downward with the
hillside to reduce the amount of mechanization.
 
To minimize any damaging impact on the environment, he intended each aspect
of the winery to operate organically.

He glanced over at the current building site when one of the
workers let out a yell as the materials they were yanking up swung too
wide.
 
The structure had two stories,
each with
ten-foot
ceilings.
 
The entire top floor of the hexagon flaunted expansive
windows, including skylights in the rooftop.
 
Steve expected to position a telescope on the deck for honing in on
constellations and for general observation.
 
Even though more of a gazebo on stilts than a tree house, the edifice
gave the illusion of nestling in the branches of the
low
, spreading walnut canopy.
 
The three concentric circles of grass, sweet woodruff and lavender
should protect the adjacent fields from a toxin produced by the
walnuts
that could harm the grapes.

When he gazed downhill, he spied his neighbor Rick driving
fast up the grassy road between rows of grapevines.
 
Rick’s expression of deep stress when he
jumped out of his old Land Rover made Mathew scramble up and jog over to meet
him.

“Hey, Rick.
 
What’s
wrong?”

 
“Got a call from
Callie.
 
She’s hysterical.
 
Someone kidnapped Susannah!”

“No, no, not that darling child.
 
When?”

“This morning.
 
Callie
had a doctor’s appointment that morning.
 
She left Susannah with John Henry.”

“And?” Mathew could feel himself sliding away from his new
life as a winegrower back into his former role as an FBI agent.

“He dropped Susannah off at her school for a morning summer
program and headed off to Berkeley.
 
Someone snatched Susannah.
 
The
school called a couple of hours later inquiring about her.”

“Why was she taken?
 
John Henry and Callie are not the type of wealthy parents kidnappers
usually target.”

“Maybe not, but I am,” Rick said grimly.
 
“Someone must have found out that Callie has
a rich uncle.”

“Which means whoever is behind this who knows them pretty
well.
 
After all you’re not exactly next
door since
Callie lives
down in
California.”

“The kidnappers phoned right after the school did, demanding
five million for her return.”

“Can you raise that much money quickly?”

“I may need help, but I’m here for a different reason.
 
Callie wants you to come down to California
with me.”

“She does?”
 
Even
under the circumstances, Mathew’s heart lurched. “Because of my FBI
background?”

“Yes and because she trusts you.
 
While John Henry may object to having either
of us around, I’ll deal with him.
 
I
scheduled a jet out of Hillsboro to leave in an hour.
 
Will you fly out with me?”

“Sure.
 
Let’s zip down
to the house and talk with Steve and Ivy.
 
We shifted a fair bit out of investments for construction projects.
 
Yours if needed.”

“I want Steve
involved,
but he must be cautious.
 
Thanks
for
the offer of your reserves.
 
Pay you back, of course.
 
My broker is due to call me about how soon he
can liquidate some of my assets.”

They sped down to the house.
 
Steve and Ivy sat on the stairs by the back door, brushing the
dirt
off their boots after working in the
garden.
 
Steve jerked his head up when
Rick and Mathew bounded out and ran over.
 
“What’s wrong?”

“Some scum abducted Susannah.
 
We’re flying down to San Francisco,” Mathew
said.

“Holy Shit!” Steve said, jumping up.
 
“What can we do?”

“Ivy, will you check on Sassy while we’re gone?” Rick asked

“I’ll bring her over here for the duration of this crisis,”
Ivy said

“That would be great.
 
Sassy is so upset.
 
Callie is dear
to
her.
 
S
he
adores Susannah too.”

“Take Lenny with you in case you need backup,” Steve said to
Mathew.
 
“Ivy and I will take over
surveillance here and at Rick’s.
 
We’ll
patrol and stay armed.
 
You find out the
facts on Susannah and go to the local FBI office.
 
I’ll start making calls.”

Rick intervened.
 
“The
kidnapper said no cops.”

Steve regarded him steadily.
 
“You’re talking to two former agents here.
 
Let me do a little quiet exploration.
 
No names, no specifics.
 
I can nose around by phone and on the
Internet.
 
We solved a case of child
trafficking out of Bulgaria in 2012.
 
I’ll say I’m doing a
follow-up
.”

Looking puzzled, Ivy said, “I thought the FBI only has
jurisdiction if the case crosses state lines.”

“The Lindbergh Law of 1932 granted the FBI authority in any
kidnapping of a child under 12, which Susannah is.
 
They have Child Abduction Rapid Deployment or
CARD teams trained and expert in locating children.”

Mathew could see that Steve wanted to do some poking
around.
 
Maybe he had an idea to
explore.
 

“Keep this contained to yourself for now,” Mathew cautioned
Steve.

“Don’t use your mobiles once you’re on the ground,” Steve
said.
 
“I’ll figure out a scrambled
solution for voice.
 
For the near term,
use my secure email.
 
Is the encryption
software still on your laptop?”

“Sure is.”

“Ivy, you follow Rick home and
bring
Sassy back with you,” Steve said.
 
“Be ready to go when Mathew drives over.
 
Lock up the house.
 
Turn the alarm system on when you leave.
 
Hurry back here and come in through the
garage.
 
I’ll talk to Lenny and bring our
gear out of the safe room.
 
Rick, can you
fire a handgun?”

He nodded.
 
“Got one
at home.”

“Good, take the piece with you.
 
No one will
ask on the private plane.
 
Secure the
weapon in a briefcase or something.”

“I’ve got to run downstairs and pack.
 
Rick arranged a flight in about 45 minutes,
which means we will be at Callie’s house by 2:00 p.m.,” Mathew said and hurried
downstairs.

As he grabbed his suitcase, Mathew ached with sadness for
his friends.
 
That precious little girl
with her carefree giggles was suffering a nightmare at best or was dead at
worst.
 
He remembered her playing
backgammon with the gruff Lenny and how she teased him when she won.
 
Now some thugs nabbed that little charmer to
ransom her for a big wad of cash.
 

He grabbed a couple of suits out of the closet, along with
several shirts and began packing.
 
Her
poor mother! A woman like Callie with her tender heart should not be dealing
with the seizure of her only child, much less her obnoxious husband and his
alcoholism.
 
She had
the wisdom
to ask for help from the best.
 
If anyone could save her daughter and bring
her back home, they could by working with the Bureau and with Lenny providing
protection.
 

That afternoon Callie hovered near the front door after
receiving a text from Uncle Rick on the time they should arrive.
 
Her home was about twenty miles away from the
airport up in Kensington, north of Berkeley where John Henry worked.
 
She stepped out when she saw a dark car stop
in front of her small tiled-roof house.
 

When the two men came up the walk, Callie ran into Rick’s
arms.
 
“Thank you, thank you, thank you
both for coming.
 
I’m so scared for
Susannah.”
 
Her voice came out in a
strained whisper.

She reached a hand toward Mathew, her fingers trembling in
his and she felt him squeeze them as he attempted to pass some of his strength
to her.
 
Between having Susannah ripped
away and
putting
up with John Henry, her
nerves were stretched
tinsel-thin
.
 

John Henry appeared.
 
“What the hell is he doing here?”
 

Rick grabbed John Henry by his arm and walked him back into
the house.
 
“You want my money?
 
We do this my way.
 
No arguments.
 
Susannah’s life is in danger!”

Mathew and Callie sat down at the kitchen
table
while Rick talked with John Henry in the
living room.
 
“Tell me what happened.”

“It’s my fault.
 
I
should never
have . . .” Callie said, her eyes
watery with fear for her daughter.

“Let’s stay focused,” Mathew said, his voice soft and
even.
 
“No blame.
 
Only
tell me what happened.”

She inhaled deeply, fighting to calm herself.
 
“John Henry left with Susannah around 8:15
this morning.
 
She got out of his Beemer
at the corner by the school.”

“Not out front.”

“Not directly.
 
Same
block.
 
Jams up around the school
entrance sometimes.”

“Did he wait to ensure she walked into the school?” Mathew
asked.

Callie shook her head in the negative and said in a
voice
so soft Mathew leaned over to hear
her.
 
“You don’t think he might be
involved, do you?
 
He would never hurt
Susannah.
 
Not like this.”

“I need the details as you understand them,” Mathew
said.
 
“Did he drive right back
home?”
 

He lowered his voice, becoming gentler.
 
She
shored
herself up with his supportive presence, which was so welcome after having no
one to lean on since returning from Oregon.
 
Susannah had only been missing a few hours, but losing her was more than
she could bear.
 
She started shaking in
fear.
 

Mathew reached across to her, taking each of her hands in
his.
 
She could feel his strength and
calm flow into her, if not reducing her fears for her daughter, at least giving
her hope.

“About John Henry this morning?” Mathew asked again.

 
“He went to the
library
at
the college.
 
He started research on a new book.”

“What happened next?”

“I returned home about 9:30.
 
The school called around 10:00 to ask about Susannah.
 
Right when I went to dial John Henry, the
phone rang.
 
Oh . . .
gracious.”

Callie shuddered as she related what had transpired.
 
She gripped one hand with the other in an
attempt
to steady her emotions.
 
“A man said, ‘
If you want your daughter back alive, pull together five million bucks
in cash by tomorrow night
.’ ”

“Anything else?” Mathew asked, putting a hand lightly on her
arm

“The line went dead.”

“This on your landline or mobile?”

She pointed at the
wall phone
.

“Anyone suspicious hanging around, walking a dog, sitting in
a vehicle, here or at the school?”
 
Mathew paused then said.
 
“Think
back over the last few days.
 
Anyone ring
the bell?
 
Any strange calls?”

“Two women passing out religious pamphlets.”
 
Callie dug in a little stack of mail and
selected a small trifold with the title, ‘Good News from God!’

“How long did they stay?”

“Couple of minutes.”

“Did they come inside?
 
Did they see Susannah?” Mathew asked.