New Growth (Spook Hills Trilogy Book 2) (33 page)

“By tracking Cruze and Annetta or perhaps we have a rogue at
the FBI or DEA with security rights to the Fuentes files,” Steve said.
 
“I’ll find out who accessed those files from
the logs in
Sentinel.
 
None of our findings from this year
are in the system, but the theft of the brothers’ femurs is.”

“Let’s jot down notes on possible scenarios.
 
Well done getting that nugget out of
Annetta
, Callie,” Mathew said, turning to her
with a smile.

“I only listened,” Callie said.

“Sometimes you can be the right ear at the right moment with
the interest and patience to let the person talk,” Steve said.

Ivy sat frowning.
 
“Did you get shots from the street cameras in London and the station
videos at Gare du Nord?”

“Usual fuzzy stuff,” Steve said with a wave of
dismissiveness.

“Did you run comparisons to check if any of the fuzzies matched?”
Ivy
said
in that persistent way she had.

“Waiting for copies of the media from Gare du Nord as they
sent super-fuzzy screen grabs.
 
When they
arrive in the D.C. office, I’ll tell them to run the photo comparison
software.”

“We should understand what video or
still shot
recorders the police have in place in Caracas,” Ivy
said.
 
“See if any photos are similar.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at her suggestion and nodded.
 
“Mathew, reach out to the Fuentes for the
date this tail went after them and
where
in the city they noticed him.”

“Will do,” Mathew said.
 
“Also, Annetta should revert to the Julio image to keep her real
self concealed
until this is over.
 
I’ll tell Brian to talk with her tonight.”

Mathew nudged Callie’s foot under the table and smiled at her.
 
“You just earned your way into the Spook
Hills Gang.”

A little smile came to her lips at his
praise
.
 
Mathew could see that she liked being useful and enjoyed belonging.
 
All those years she had
expended
on John Henry, where her life centered
on that selfish prick of a man, had frozen her personal development.
 
Each day now she became more his, but Mathew
also wanted her to be her own person too.

The plane started to descend as they neared Atlanta where
they made reservations at an airport hotel for lodgings and a meeting
room.
 
Once they landed and taxied to the
gate, Mathew verified the signal on his cell phone and selected Brian’s number
with his good hand.
 
Unclear photographs
or not, the murkiness around who shadowed the Fuentes might soon disperse.
 

Late in the
afternoon
Mathew received a call back from his buddy in the New York office.
 
He reminisced with him on the phone about a
case they had worked together against a ring transporting heroin out of the
Middle East across the Canadian border and down into Seattle,
Chicago
and New York.

“Whatever happened to the Warthog?” Mathew said into the
phone.
 
“I was called upon to
testify,
but I never heard the result.”

"The Bureau canned him.
 
Now the DEA uses him to consult on a few matters as an adjunct field
agent,” his friend said in reply.

“Always at his worst in the office.
 
If they keep him doing undercover work, the
arrangement might work.
 
Didn’t he smoke
some funny foreign cigarettes?”

“Yeah, black ones as I recall – Turkish or Russian.”

Mathew mouthed the word ‘Bingo’ to Steve, using his
interjection
for
a definitive
match.

“Well if Turkish, I’d bet on Djarums. What’s the Warthog
doing these days?” Mathew asked.

He continued talking to his pal for another ten minutes and
hung up and said, “The Warthog got fired from the Bureau for the harassment
issue this past spring.
 
Last my contact
heard about him, he took off for South America – Caracas to be precise.
 
He consults now with the DEA.”

“Might be he wanted to extort money out of Cruze and
Annetta
or pump them for connections,” said
Steve.
 
“Sounds like this Gerkasky is our
prime suspect but we’ll continue keep researching the rest of the
short list
the Fuentes gave us.
 
We need to keep in mind that Gerkasky could
have a grudge against you as well as me.”

 
Steve thought for a
moment and then asked, “One thing puzzles me -- why did the Fuentes call him
PercyNarc?”

Mathew flushed as he slid his eyes to Ivy.
 
“Still the boy scout?
 
I’ll tell you later.”

Ivy smirked a little and said, “Steve, the Narc part you
know.”

“Yeah, narcotics agent or DEA, but what about the Percy
part?”

“Genital warts.
 
The street
name is ‘Percy’.”
 

Both men regarded her with surprise.

“I sometimes used to read the Urban Dictionary to stay
current with my younger staff,” Ivy said smiling a little smugly.

Steve raised an eyebrow at her.
 
Mathew snickered, even though he was starting
to slump in his chair from tiredness.

“Time for your pills and a lie-down,” Steve said.

“We’ll need to send an update later to Brian and Moll,” Mathew
said, his voice
quavering
with pain.
 
Be back in a couple of hours.”

The three of them boarded the Bubird in Atlanta long
before dawn the next morning to fly back to Miami where they planned to locate
in protected nooks in the cemetery near the parents’ burial place.
 
Steve worked most of the night pursuing
useful evidence on the Warthog, making Mathew amazed as ever at his
stamina.
 

“Here's what I’ve found so far,” Steve said, as the plane
queued for takeoff.
 
“Gerkasky, traveling
under his name, was in Paris and London the same time as you, Moll and the
Fuentes.
 
It is possible that he planted
and used those tracking devices the cousins found in their clothing and gear.”

“When did he return to the U.S.?” Mathew asked.

“Two days ago, via New York.”

“Which means he either
tailed
us in
London,
or he embedded a tracker
still not discovered.”

“The question is, why did he go after you in the
restaurant?” Steve asked.

“Not Gerkasky.
 
He
wasn't one of the two men,” Mathew said.

“A contract might be out on at least one of the
Fuentes
which means Gerkasky could be working
as an informant,” Steve said.
 
“One more
time, who did the shooters
aim
at in the
London restaurant?”

“For sure Julio, since the bullet hit me when I hurled
myself on top of him.
 
Any insights on
Gerkasky after arriving back stateside?” Mathew asked.

“Nothing yet.
 
I put
requests out to obtain airline ticketing every hour.
 
Gerkasky could be traveling under another
name.
 
Or
if he is consulting with the DEA, he could be flying on one of their planes,”
Steve replied.

Steve finished the early breakfast served on the flight and
cranked back his seat for a few minutes sleep.
 
Ivy spread a blanket over him and kissed his cheek, letting him drift
off into a
power nap
.
 
They needed him as sharp as possible for
their operation that morning.

Mathew reviewed the cemetery layouts Ivy downloaded,
pointing out possible hiding places at their scheduled stops.
 
As the plane descended to land at the
Opa Locka
Executive Airport in Miami, they selected
a small mausoleum with a good view of the Fuentes parents’ gravesite.
 
Then they gathered up what they would need at
the cemetery and hurried out to the car waiting for them on the tarmac.
 
Ivy slid behind the wheel while Steve gave
her directions from the GPS on his phone.

They arrived in darkness at the cemetery, moved to their
stations and settled
into
their
surreptitious
positions
to protect the
Fuentes.
 
Steve had a hunch any attempt
on their lives would happen during their last stop at the graves of the
brothers.
 
Hunch or not,
they needed to secure all three sites.

Once at the graveyard, Ivy shook as if from a chill, even
though the Florida air felt warm after the damp days in England.
 
She zipped up her fleece vest and did the
same with her windbreaker.
 
Mathew
suspected her nervousness made her chilly.
 
Nevertheless
Ivy stood with
Steve.
 
Mathew missed Callie, but he knew
she needed to be at home with Susannah.
 
The whole gang met Callie at the airport when she arrived the previous
evening, relieving him of worries about her.
 

Ivy had the job of
acting
as a lookout behind them, pressing herself against Steve’s back.
 
Mathew focused on the view of Cruze's
parents’ headstone.
 
As the day began
going light, a dark limousine pulled
up.
 
H
e muttered into the wireless
transmitter.
 
“No danger noted so
far.”
 

Brian and Moll jumped out, assessed the area and gestured to
the car.
 
Julio and Cruze stepped from
the limo cautiously and approached the gravestone for his parents.
 
Each cousin carried two white roses.
 
They stopped, bowed their heads, prayed and
crossed themselves, then laid each bloom by the grave marker with
reverence.
 
Cruze walked forward to place
his hand on the polished
gray
granite
stone and then he backed up next to Julio.
 

All continued undisturbed around them.
 
Cruze took out a small camera and took a few
photos of the gravesite in the soft morning
light
when the sun popped up above the horizon.
 
From what Mathew saw from a distance, each of them wiped tears from
their eyes, likely thinking of their lost youth, his parents, and their
memories of better times.

They stayed about twenty minutes before walking back to the
car with dragging footsteps, reluctant to leave Cruze’s parents’ resting place
for the final time.
 
By reverting to her
Julio image, Annetta conformed to his instructions to keep her real identity
concealed.
 
She slung her arm around
Cruze’s shoulder as they walked back, oblivious to those who guarded them.
 

After the departure of the limo, Mathew signaled their need
to hasten to their next flight.
 
Steve
indicated that tying up two
Bubirds
on
one operation was causing ripples at the Bureau, but with a smaller, faster
jet, they would arrive at the property in Madrid about an hour in advance.
 
Once there they would
stake-out
the scene out in a similar way.
 
If all went well at the Fuentes
place
this afternoon, they would pass the night
in Albuquerque and slip out to the brothers’ graves early the next
morning.
 
As they drove away from the
cemetery in Miami, Mathew glanced over his shoulder, caught a movement and
turned to stare
behind
them.

“Ivy, stop!” he said from the back seat of the car.
 
“Someone is behind us.”

“Turn around or back up?” Ivy asked.

“Turn around.
 
Proceed
at
a reasonable
pace.
 
Be ready to accelerate if needed.”

Ivy turned the car around in a big arc before cruising back
past the entrance to the cemetery where a man attempted to run to a car parked
on a side street.
 
A noticeable limp
hampered his pace.
 
When the man
turned,
they realized it was Lenny.

“So now we have another level of protection on the Fuentes,”
Steve said shaking his head.
 
“Who the
hell is guarding Spook Hills?”

They stopped and rolled down the windows to talk with Lenny.

“Guess I’m too old and lame to be sneaking around,” Lenny
said in a voice even gruffer than
usual
as if to mask the weakness in his shot-up body.
 
“We kept worrying about you.
 
Good
thing I was here too.
 
A man studied your
movements through field glasses.
 
Flat on
the ground behind one of those big floral blankets over in the easy-mow zone by
the
cremies
.
 
He came in about a half hour before you did
and left by crawling backward after you headed to the car.”

Mathew choked back a laugh at Lenny’s calling the cremated
remains
cremies
, “You see the guy?”

“Long, thin face.
 
Dressed in black, even covered
his
head with a skullcap.
 
I can tell you
what he smokes.”
 
Lenny rummaged in a
pocket and showed them a small baggie containing the stub of a black Sobranie
cigarette.

“The Warthog.
 
Who’s
on guard at home?” Steve asked.

“I called in a couple of retired agents from last year’s
sting – hope I did right,” Lenny replied.
 
“Rick wanted me here with you.
 
So
did Sassy,
Susannah
and the Terry
guy.
 
Terry, the two
cats
and the corgis all moved over to Rick’s
house.
 
Nothing going on but they thought
Terry should have company.
 
The alarm is
set at Spook Hills and agents are patrolling it.”

Steve turned to Mathew, raising one eyebrow as he did.

Mathew said, “Bunch of worriers.
 
Glad you are here.
 
Best person I know to cover our backs.
 
Let’s get to the airport.
 
We’ll drop off the
cars,
and you can hop on the Bubird with us where we can bring you
up-to-date.”

Lenny grinned and nodded, both pleased and a little
sheepish.
 
Mathew closed the window and
said, “I’ll call Rick later to make sure all is well.
 
What the hell is the Warthog after?”

“Passing information on to someone – DEA, narcotics kingpin,
underworld mob leader or whatever,” Steve said.
 
“Gerkasky may be smart enough to conclude the Fuentes cut a deal with us
and somebody is interested in what they are handing over.”

Ivy straightened the car out, turned around and started for
the airport, glancing in her rearview mirror to make sure Lenny followed her.

“We
should
activate
some troops out of the Albuquerque FBI office,” Mathew said.
 
“If
a powerful
figure is plugged in with Gerkasky, we will have a bloodbath wherever and
whenever a strike is scheduled.”

“I’ll line up a crew of ninjas on standby.
 
Call Brian or Moll and tell them to hold in
Albuquerque until they hear from us,” Steve said.

“Arrange an assault van like we had last year,” Mathew
replied, sliding his eyes from Steve to Ivy.
 
“We’re conveying precious cargo.”

After finishing his calls, Steve leaned over to whisper to
Ivy as she turned into the airport and she smiled and nodded, making Mathew
wonder what secret they shared.
 
Little
moments enhanced affection.
 
While not at
the same point with Callie, he anticipated the day they too would collect such
tiny treasures.
 
Waking up to her sitting
next to him in the hospital made him more confident of her love.
 
When the divorce from John Henry went
through, he hoped the only remaining obstacle to their future together would be
removed.
 
For now, his mission was
keeping them all alive to enjoy benefits yet to come.

Hours later, Ivy eyed the Fuentes square modern home
lurking against the dry landscape.
 
She
rose out of the car as cautious as a prairie dog poking its head above
ground.
 

"Same as before," she said, nodding towards the
house.

From his slumped posture, Ivy could see that he Mathew was
tiring even though he caught some sleep on the plane.
 
Daylight and even their energy levels
dictated the necessity of moving this stop along.
 
As long
as nothing untoward happened, their schedule allowed the cousins to spend up to
an hour at the property, before hustling back to Albuquerque to settle into
their hotel rooms.

With a SWAT team in place, Steve went to confer with the FBI
leader out of the Albuquerque office who stood at attention after his last encounter
with Steve.
 
Warmth lingered here in New
Mexico, although
a cool
tinge in the
breezes said autumn hastened this way.
 
Ivy scanned the prominences and the sky, searching for a sign of any
threat.
 

“This place gives me the willies,” Ivy said to Mathew, as
they walked over to the house.
 
She
struggled to repress a fission of fear.
 
“It affects Steve too, I think because he virtually died here.

“When you walk away from the house, the acreage opens up and
the air seems free of the menacing vibe.
 
That
arroyo we explored a few weeks ago
was
magical with its steep cliffs and narrow flat bottom.
 
Seemed almost enchanted until I encountered
that electrified field where the brothers hid an SUV for escape purposes.”

Steve walked back to them. "Mathew, you stand in the
entry foyer along with one of the sharpshooters from the Albuquerque
office.
 
Then go through the house with
the Fuentes, giving them privacy as they move around to let them share the
experience in their own way.
 
Ivy, pull
this van behind the old well.
 
We’ll
shelter there with
Lenny
when the Fuentes
arrive.
 
Right now, let’s go through the
house just to be sure it is as we left it.

After about a half hour when Steve,
Ivy
and Lenny were back at the van, the limo carrying the Fuentes stopped
near the front portico.
 
Moll exited
first, swiveled his head around the site, gave a wave to Steve then turned to
face the house.
 
He nodded at Mathew and
opened the rear door.
 
Brian bounded out,
surveyed the location and gestured for Julio and Cruze to join him.
 
The little group went into the house, Brian
leading and Mathew and Moll walking in last.