Patience County War (Madeleine Toche Series) (21 page)

“Good to see you, Colonel,” Junior said.

“I appreciate your help on this one Junior. Find anything out?”

Junior held up a small manila envelope. “Got some good recon.”

“Good man.”

Despite himself, Junior smiled. Praise from his old commander felt better than anything had in a long time. He remembered those fearsome days in the bush. John Trunce had got him through it, which was a fact. “Karen’s got some catfish and tea inside, come on in,” John said.

For the next couple of hours there was no discussion about what Junior found out. John knew all of that would be in the materials. He had personally trained him and he had proven to be his best. Junior used those skills in his life on the other side of the law. He did nothing without a guaranteed outcome. Karen hugged Junior like a long lost son. Junior got a chance to feel normal and homey for a while. These people were as close to parents as he had, having grown up on the streets with parents now dead, who were unable to care for themselves, much less children. When they died, he picked up that chore for his brothers and sisters and carried it to this day.

Junior drove away and John and Karen waved. John then went behind the barn and down to his storage room to assess the materials.

In addition to wall to wall weaponry, the storage room had an office complete with computer, fax, and copiers, very much like a business office. John had done some consulting after leaving the military and used the office to keep track of that modest business. He still got many calls pleading for his services, but he felt he’d done enough. He was more interested in his corner of the world now. He would have liked grandchildren, but neither son seemed to think that a priority. Sam was a more distinct possibility, maybe even more so now, he thought as he smiled. That French girl
has her sights on him, and even, despite the danger they face, Sam seemed focused and more centered than he had in some time.

He opened the packet and found a CD-Rom inside and put it into his machine. True to his word, Junior not only had live surveillance footage, there was a typed narrative also. The footage was primarily of a porky Hispanic man walking a highly energetic dog around a green area outside of an extended stay hotel. From time to time the same man would come out to talk to the dog walker, who seemed to be in some position of authority. John was an instant judge of combatants, and knew it was the second man who was the poised, confident one. He seemed to spend most of his time convincing the other man of each statement made to him. An indecisive leader was John’s evaluation, but the center of authority for whatever group the men belonged to. There were good close-ups taken with a still camera. The narrative indicated that the names were unknown, but that at any given time the immediate group seemed to be comprised of about twelve persons. The narrative continued to state that the group seemed to keep a low profile and that no more than half of them actually stayed at the hotel. They rotated out of a Holiday Inn down the road. John created a file of the contents and emailed it to Moon. Moon would see that Tracy got it. The resources of the NSA would discern who the men were.

Smith spent the next couple of days trailing Sam, always just a little ways behind him. He recorded all of the stops that were regularly made and put addresses and names together. He identified family and friends, all seemingly very ordinary people in an ordinary place. He packed up his car and his dog and headed out of Patience to make contact. About halfway back to St. Louis and the airport he stayed at a budget hotel and used his laptop and an Internet connection to send his encrypted report. While the big sheriff was a concern, he seemed to lack any meaningful support. The deputies were an issue, but their shifts were staggered. Additional law enforcement was close to an hour away. If a team was necessary to subdue the sheriff, he would be isolated. A well planned assault would be necessary, but effective in his evaluation.

M
anny the Farmer sat in the old beat up jeep he liked to drive around the Hacienda and watched several men taking target practice and another group doing physical training. The shots were measured and precise, and the formation of men running was tight. Whatever these men were now, they were once good soldiers, he thought, professionals for a professional job. It was like anything else. You don’t hire dentists to plumb your house.

From the house he could hear the bell of the telephone, and then one of his aides flagged him from the doorway. He waved to Manolo and swung around in a cloud and drove back a little fast. He liked to tear around in the old jeep.

He got to the back patio and was handed a report concerning the Patience County situation. He read the report carefully and then burned it in a small grill. The information gave him a great deal to consider. He walked back over to the jeep and went to find Paco. A second opinion is always best.

Smith made sure that he read the e-mail carefully, resubmitted it, and asked for confirmation, which was received. The nature of his employment had just changed and he would intervene directly. His status had changed. He was about to proceed with a criminal act of major proportion.

He opened his hard-sided luggage and opened a small false bottom. Inside was a small caliber pistol and a silencer. He often worked with a knife, but he was wary of the big sheriff with a gun on his hip and rocket launchers at his disposal. He’d considered some kind of accident with the sheriff’s squad car, but there was something about that vehicle that wasn’t kosher. The deep imprints of the tires told him immediately that it was armored and that there was serious horsepower under the hood. He decided that a quick, clean hit was the answer. The man lived alone at least most of the time. He didn’t like collateral damage, but if others were there they would just be in the way. Sheriff Sam Trunce was about to have a bad day. He got into his vehicle, dressed in his usual blend-in-with-the-scenery clothing, a dark grey warm-up jacket and pants with dark, solid colored shoes. He drove his car to a previously chosen spot, left his car on a wooded lane half a mile from the Sheriff’s house and approached through the woods at the back.

C
hristine and Madeleine made the final preparations for the Friday evening meal at Chez-Toche. The doors opened for the first seating at 5:00 p.m. And the reservation book was full.

“Grandmere, Alan is still being difficult and won’t sign the divorce papers. I don’t want to wait any longer. I think I have Sam’s attention, but I think he senses some reluctance on my part.”

“Then what are you waiting for. Go get him. If you’re frustrated with the situation just grab what you want and don’t look back. It worked for me.”

“But I’m still married.”

“That’s just on paper. You’ve got a real flesh and blood handsome young man right in front of you. He’s good looking, hardworking and loyal. Yves likes him, what more do you want, besides, too long without a man and you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

“Grandmere! What a thing to say,” Christine said laughing.

“I know what I’m talking about. I went so long during the war, that I think I did go a little crazy. I can tell you, it gave me one more reason to
hate the Germans, if you know what I mean,” Madeleine said flashing a big smile at Christine. Besides, look at the shoulders on that man!”

“Grandmere!” Christine said tossing a sprig of parsley in Madeleine’s direction.

“I may be old, but I can still look. Oh look at the time and the people waiting on the porch. We better get started,” Madeleine said, wiping her hands on her apron as she walked towards the front door.

Late the following afternoon, Christine drove to Sam’s house to meet him for lunch and to go fishing. This was their first real time alone, she thought, and she was looking forward to it. Either he would kiss her or she would grab his ears and kiss him. No more waiting, her talk with Madeleine had convinced her.

Sam had told her he would meet her there. She pulled her vehicle into the driveway and parked on the far side of his barn, in the shade. She walked to the back of the house and went inside, as he had invited her to do so as he was going to be a little late. Sam had left the back door open for her. She walked in through the kitchen and noticed that it was neither Spartan nor cluttered. He probably could cook, although it wasn’t a passion or a hobby. Sam’s cat brushed up against her leg. She picked up the cat and snuggled it in her arms as she walked out into the living room area. Unlike many of the homes she’d seen in Patience, there were no animals on the walls, which was a big plus for her. She had trouble understanding why people would mount dead animals and fish on their walls. The hunting part was easy to understand when people did so for food. She herself was very fond of wild game, venison in particular. As she walked through the rooms, there was a sense of comfort and utility. The furniture was used but not worn, and a few pieces were newer, suggesting that he took pride in the appearance of his home. There were a few well-thumbed books on the coffee table, places bookmarked with scraps of paper. She seated herself in one of the comfortable chairs in the living room area and glanced through a National Geographic she found on the table.

A few minutes later she heard the loud roar of that crazy vehicle he called a car drive up the gravel driveway. She found her heart beating a little faster. Sam came through the front screen door with a small bouquet of wild flowers that he’d picked. She smiled and walked over to greet him.

“Missouri wild flowers I saw along the road,” he smiled and lit up the room, dressed for fishing, but clean for a date, powerfully built, confident but filled with a gentle humor.

“Thank you Sam…pretty.”

They both laughed a little over her broken English and his lack of more than a few French verbs and vocabulary.

“Nous mangeons, maintenant?” Christine said, motioning to the basket that she’d carried and set on the kitchen table.

“Oui, j’ai faim,” Sam said, testing the little bit of French he’d picked up from a how to book and a CD he listened to in the squad.

Sam thought it best to start his exploration of the French language with the basics. “I’m hungry” pretty much covered his constant state of affairs. He was working on “you are beautiful” and hoped to move onto other essentials like: “do you want to spend the night?” and other important communication tools for dealing with someone as beautiful as she. Christine found plates and napkins in the kitchen, while Sam went and got an English-French, French-English dictionary that he’d purchased second hand in town. He also had a little gadget that computed French phrases from English text and vice-versa. He thought that it would be fun to use while they ate. Christine had brought a simple lunch of bread, cheese, Pate, and fruit, and a light white wine from the restaurant. Almost immediately the two were having fun naming the objects in the room and writing things to each other through the little computer. The wine sat, the food was untouched, and they were totally lost in each other. She had never felt such undivided attention from anyone. He certainly had that quality and lived in the moment. She sensed that although he wasn’t shy, she was being handled with kid gloves, and that she would have to send the appropriate signals, to hell with that. She typed in, “embrassez-moi.” Sam didn’t wait for clarification. He put his hands on either side of her chair, gently lifted her face up to his and did what he had been waiting to do for a long time. When they broke they laughed together. Christine remembered the stairwell towards the front of the house that led upstairs. They could fish later. This was a man who cared for her, a virile, confident man. It had been a while, even longer during the weaning months of her marriage. She stood up and led Sam to the front of the house. There was no discussion. They moved as one and went up to the rooms above.