Fatal Harvest (13 page)

“Yes,” Cole said.

“And he had been researching Agrimax for a term paper, and he was e-mailing the company?”

“What do you know about Jim Banyon’s connection to Agrimax? I thought Banyon had retired.”

“I’m not at liberty to divulge classified information about the case. Let me just say that Agrimax’s practices have been under investigation for some time by the USDA, and there is cause for concern. We believe your son—perhaps assisted by Jim Banyon, or vice versa—may have stumbled onto some sensitive information. It’s possible Matthew got his hands on some technological data that Agrimax doesn’t want released—an as-yet-unpatented fertilizer or a new pesticide, for example. Or maybe it was something else. The bottom line is that we believe your son—your whole family—may be in danger. Agrimax is a powerful company, Mr. Strong, and they do not take intrusion lightly.”

“This is a food company,” Cole said, incredulously. “You’re telling me they’d use strong-arm tactics against a sixteen-year-old kid?”

“Look what happened to your mother last night,” Jill reminded him. She turned to Keeling. “Two strangers barged into Geneva’s house demanding information.”

“We’re aware of the incident, Miss Pruitt. The Amarillo police contacted us immediately. Yes, Agrimax is a food company, Mr. Strong. And millions of dollars are tied up in any new technology Agrimax develops. These megacompanies are in serious competition with each other. Money and power are involved—and those are strong motivators. I hate to sound trite, but the truth is very simple—control the world’s food supply, and you control the world.”

Cole stared down at the pavement, stricken anew by the seriousness of his son’s disappearance. If Chuck Keeling was right—and Cole had no reason to believe otherwise—then Matt’s panic had a legitimate cause. The boy knew he was
in trouble. He had happened upon the body, or perhaps even witnessed, the murder of Jim Banyon. And he knew that anyone who would kill Banyon would kill him, too. Especially if he was still in possession of this technology. Was that why he had been so anxious to find Hector Diaz? Did Matt feel somehow driven to give the technology to I-FEED? What use would that be? I-FEED was some kind of charity, not a corporation that could use technology for good. More important, where would Matt go once he found out Hector Diaz wasn’t available?

“The moment we were contacted by the police,” Keeling was saying, “the USDA took immediate interest in the case. Ted and I have been sent here, in fact, to protect you and your mother.”

“There!” Jill gave Cole a triumphant smile. “This is great. These men can stay with Geneva and Billy, while you and I go to El Paso.”

“I would advise against that,” Keeling spoke up. “For security reasons, we’d like to keep the family in one location.”

“You can’t expect me to sit around twiddling my thumbs while my son’s life is in danger,” Cole said.

“I can’t stop you, Mr. Strong. But the authorities are searching high and low for him—”

“Yeah, and so is Agrimax. I’m going to El Paso.”

“I’m going with him.” Jill pointed at the house across the street. “Let me introduce you to Mrs. Strong, and we’ll—”

“Were any of your people stationed here last night?” Cole asked, suddenly recalling the other car that had been parked there. “There was a dark blue Lincoln right in this spot. It drove off just before you arrived.”

Keeling frowned at Ted. “We were given no notification about anyone surveilling this street, were we?”

The larger man shook his head. “You ought to report it, Chuck.”

“I’ll do that first thing. Listen, Mr. Strong,” Keeling said, “I do understand your concerns. I’m a father myself. We realize your son is missing and your mother was threatened. But the USDA—along with other federal and state law-enforcement authorities—is on top of this situation. Your best bet is to stay put. I can assure you of that.”

“I won’t be sure of anything until I see my son safe and sound.”

“Of course. But please understand this case goes beyond a missing teenager. Ted and I wouldn’t be assigned to it otherwise.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“At OCPM, I investigate breaches of security within the USDA—particularly as they pertain to safeguarding our national security. I oversee all Texas employees who work in what we call public trust positions. These are positions that have the potential to compromise national security through access to material classified as confidential, secret or, at the highest level, top secret.”

“Are you telling us the USDA sees this situation as a potential threat to national security?” Jill asked.

“We’re not sure about that. Not sure at all.” Keeling opened the car door and took out a briefcase. “The important thing for you to know is that our people are actively working to resolve this case. Right now we have department agents in Juarez, Mexico, looking for your son. We’re also in contact with Mr. Diaz in Paris, but he has not heard from Matthew. When we find him, Mr. Strong, your son will be in good hands, I promise you. So if you’ll show me where your mother lives, I’ll be more than happy to set Ted up in position outside the house.”

Cole wasn’t sure whether to feel relief or twice the fear he’d had before. If Matthew had stumbled onto information so sensitive that it might threaten national security, there was no telling what kind of danger he might be in. It appeared
that both Agrimax and the USDA were searching for the boy, not to mention the sheriff and who knew how many others.

Who could tell what nefarious types might want to get their hands on Matt’s information? As Cole’s thoughts raced with visions of terrorists, kidnappers and murderers, his eyes fell on Jill, who was practically radiating blond curls and excitement. Could he leave her here and expect her to protect his mother? Or dare he trust these men to keep an eye on things?

True, Geneva had managed to hold her own against the two intruders the night before. But what about Billy? No telling what kind of trouble that kid might dive into.

“I recommend you all stay here, Mr. Strong,” Keeling repeated. “We’ll maintain a protective position outside the house, and the minute your son is found, we’ll let you know.”

“Good. I’ll leave you my cell phone number.”

Keeling gazed at him. “It’s your decision, of course.” He turned to Jill. “Have you had any communication from Matthew since the original phone call to his friend?”

“Two e-mail messages,” Jill said. “We brought his computer with us, and I’ve found some useful information on the hard drive.”

“Excellent. Would you mind if I took a look at that?”

“Not at all.” Jill started for the house, and the two USDA agents accompanied her. “We were able to read the history of Matt’s messages back and forth with Agrimax. It’s clear they were threatening him.”

Cole stood near the car, uncertainty still weighing on him. He needed to find Matt—and he wanted to do that before anyone else could scare or hurt the boy. But his mother? And Jill and Billy? Cole leaned on the Mercury. Emotionally and physically exhausted, he suddenly realized that he had failed to call on the one source of power that had never let him down. Prayer had gotten him through the deaths of his wife and his father, through the lean farm years,
and through the constant uncertainties of trying to parent a boy genius.

How had he let his prayer life slip so badly? Did it take a crisis to bring him close to God? Cole wondered if he truly believed he could manage everything himself—that he only needed to bring in God when the going got too rough. Probably. Not very spiritual…but true.

Now was one of those bad times, and Cole struggled to pray for discernment, for stamina, for patience, for fortitude, and most of all, for finding Matt. As he opened his eyes, he glanced into the car. The front seat was littered with maps and foam coffee cups. There was a laptop, a set of earphones and some other gadgetry he didn’t recognize.

National security.
Just the thought of it sent a stab of fear through his gut. Certain he had no choice but to go in search of Matt, Cole crossed the street and stepped into his mother’s house.

Geneva was serving sweet tea and cookies to Chuck Keeling and Ted, who were explaining their mission on behalf of the USDA. Billy had joined them, his large bare feet propped on a chair despite Geneva occasionally swatting them with a dish towel. In the living room, Jill was throwing things into her bag, poking at her hair, humming a tune Cole didn’t recognize. It looked as though he would have no choice but to tolerate her presence for one more day.

“We can’t take the computer,” he said, moving close to her and speaking in a low voice. “But I want to keep checking messages. Is there a way to do that?”

She looked into his eyes, then glanced at the two men from the USDA. “Why are you whispering?”

“Answer my question.”

“I can access my account with my Palm.”

“Good.” He gestured at the computer. “Put Matt’s term paper on one of those keys, and delete it from the hard drive.”

“Cole, why? Don’t you trust them?”

“I don’t trust anybody.” He straightened. “Mom, come here a minute.”

While Jill sat on the sofa and worked at the computer, Cole slipped an arm around his mother and drew her out of hearing range of the men in the kitchen. “This is serious business, Mom. Everybody involved in this situation is looking out for number one, okay?”

“You’re not telling me anything new,” she said, eyes sparkling beneath her halo of white hair.

“Chuck and Ted came here to take care of you, but they work for the government. If it comes to a choice between protecting you or national security, you know which they’ll choose.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“All right—and keep a close eye on Billy.”

“I can take care of things,” she assured him. “Don’t you worry about me. And, boy…I’ll be praying for you. You and Jill.” She punctuated her words with a wink.

He rolled his eyes. “I wish she’d stay here. She’s beginning to seem like a parasite.”

“I heard that,” Jill spoke up from the sofa. “I’ve had parasites, as a matter of fact. Picked them up at a refugee camp in Sudan, and no, I’m nothing like a parasite. I see myself more as a guardian.”

Smiling brightly, she stood and handed him a USB key. “There you go, Mr. Strong. Geneva, it’s been wonderful to meet you.”

The older woman embraced the younger. “I’ll pray for God to give you patience. My son wasn’t always this surly. Do what you can to lighten him up.”

“Oh, he’s just an old, dried-up tree trunk.” Jill nudged Cole with her elbow. “But there may be a green sprig or two left in him. Hey, Billy—be good. Don’t eat Granny Strong out of house and home while we’re gone.”

“Adios, Miss Pruitt,” Billy called. “Bye, Mr. Strong. Call us when you find the Mattman.”

“Done.” Cole gave Keeling and Ted a nod and stepped out the door.

“Well,” Jill said, “at least we know Billy and Geneva are in good hands.”

The smog that hung over the city of Juarez had turned a muddy orange as Cole and Jill drove over the bridge that evening. Cole thought about Matt crossing this span above the Rio Grande, and he wondered again what could have compelled his son to do something so out of character. Matt loved spending hours alone in his bedroom reading comic books or tinkering with his computer. When he wasn’t home, he hung out at the library or the computer store. Even the use of a pickup truck hadn’t prodded the boy from his usual pattern. Matt reminded Cole of a young calf, always keeping close to the herd, always following the same trails, never straying.

“I can’t think what crazy notion could’ve pushed Matt to drive all the way to El Paso,” he said aloud. They had stopped for food near the El Paso airport, and Jill was finishing the last of a green chile cheeseburger. “It’s just not like him.”

“It’s exactly like him,” she said. “Matt has a mind of his own. Like that old tie he wears to school every day. The kids make fun of him, but he still wears it. Once he decides to do something, he does it.”

Cole drove in silence for a minute. “His mother gave him that tie.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

“It’s been a long time. Eight years.”

“She had a profound influence on Matt, didn’t she?”

“On everyone. Anna was a wonderful woman.” Again, the image of his wife’s beautiful face filtered through his thoughts. He had lost her. He couldn’t lose Matt, too.

“Was your wife a Christian?” Jill asked.

“The best kind.”

“Then she played a part in developing Matt’s faith.”

“Not just a part. She was it. She started reading him Bible picture books when he was still a nursing baby. We went to church as a family, but Anna was the one who taught Matt how to pray, taught him to read his Bible every day, taught him to live by his faith.”

“And that’s what he’s doing right now, Cole. He truly believes he can make a difference in the world—for the sake of Christ. He told me that many times. ‘Miss Pruitt,’ he used to say, ‘I want to do something. I want to change the world.’ Matt is idealistic, and he’s determined.”

“He’s also just a kid.”

“Sixteen—he’s old enough to have his own ideas.”

“And young enough to be completely naive.”