Old Growth & Ivy (The Spook Hills Trilogy Book 1) (22 page)

"Steve," Ivy said in a
whisper.

 
Mathew
nodded in confirmation.  "The very announcement that he was managing
the case caused a flurry of speculation in the office and generated more than a
little apprehension.   I was worried that I might fail to measure up
to his standards.  His aura had not faded.  In fact the intervening
years had enhanced it.  The rumor was that he always ran the perps to
ground, usually quickly, but even if it took months, he would get them. 
He never forgot a case or a perp or an agent." 

"Like he will never forget
Astuto," Ivy said as she leaned over in her bed to look at Steve. 

"On the day Steve took over, we
had to assemble at seven in the morning.  He walked in, introduced himself
and then had us go around the room giving our names.  Unbeknownst to us,
Steve had researched each member of the team.   After each person
said his or her name, Steve recited some notable action from the agent’s record. 
Ten of us were on the team.  He had no notes.  All the information
was in that incredible brain of his. 

"When it came to me, he stated my
class year at the Academy, the case I had responded on and a new scenario
number. That is when I realized that I had come up with a new and valid twist
on that classroom case.  At the end, he announced the leaders for four
sub-teams.  I was to head up the Scenario Planning Team.  He expected
us to choose our teams on a round-robin basis.  Brian was also in the New
York office although not assigned to this case.  I chose him for the team
because he can be a good sounding board, a solid data man and a meticulous
organizer.  The next agent I asked for was Moll.  He would bring the
creative twist we needed.   I could have chosen one to two more
agents, but those two were my team; it felt right.  I noticed a lifted
eyebrow from Steve when I shook my head, refusing to take a Round three
selection.  It made me apprehensive about my decision to keep my team
small."

"This is great stuff!” Ivy
said.  “Keep going."

"He moved us to rooms with a
different layout than most Bureau operations.  The suite had four
workrooms, one office and an open space, which he soon filled with a long table
and a trio of computers and projectors.  Our workroom had two computers
per agent, each with two flat screens; every room had a projector.  That
meant that in my room, we had 12 flat screens, plus the projector.  Since
this was to be a paperless operation, the room lacked the traditional
flipcharts or printers or even scrap paper.  The only concession to
creature comforts were water coolers, but every morning Steve had pastries or
bagels and coffee delivered for us and late every afternoon, he had some sort
of snack brought in.  Often he also had lunch delivered and sometimes
dinner.  The suite had landline phones in each room; it had its own
security system and full-time armed security guards.

  Steve introduced us to his
electronic casebook that he had designed and created long before the Bureau had
one as comprehensive. Every day all of our drafts, findings and work papers had
to be stored in his casebook system to ensure secure backup and easy
recall.   Every night he read what we checked in.  I sometimes
wondered when he slept."

Mathew paused and looked over at
Ivy.  He watched her pick up the pudding container and begin to lick the
inside of it to get the last smears of her dessert.   Clearly the
only thing wrong with her appetite was the taste of the food in the
hospital.  He got up, poured some ice water for her, cleared the debris
from her table and sat back down.

"Was he really that
fearsome?" Ivy asked.

"He was tough.  He had high
standards.  We heard that if agents failed to measure up to what he
wanted, he booted them off the team.  In addition he was so darn big and
smiled so seldom that he seemed intimidating, at least until an agent worked
with him for some time.

"As an aside, the Bureau
implemented a big system for electronic files last year called Sentinel at a
cost of, no joke, over $400 million.  It took almost seven years to
develop, well eleven, if you count the first false start.  Steve wrote his
system in 2000 and kept updating it as technology evolved.  Admittedly the
Bureau's system is much broader in scope and serves the whole of the FBI; Steve's
only served his teams.  I have used both -- his was better from an agent's
perspective, containing exactly what the team needed for each case.  Steve
is simply brilliant at understanding how to use technology to get the job
done."

Ivy
smiled and nodded.  "I can see that.  He is very technical, yet
practical too.  He could have been an industry leader if he had chosen a
career in software development."

"Never
thought of that, but I bet you're right."  Mathew paused and took a
drink from his own water bottle before continuing. 

"You
know anything about Steve's personal life?" Ivy asked.

Mathew
looked at her, debating if Steve would want Ivy to know about the dark time
earlier in his life.

Seeing
his hesitation, Ivy said, "Only what you’re comfortable telling me."

"For a time, years actually,
Steve was really empty inside.  What I am going to tell you is about the
time before he became what we all jokingly call an FBI monk.  Has he
talked about that time?"

"Only that he went through a bad
time in his life.  He has said he would talk about it but he hasn't, at
least not yet."

Mathew wondered if he should proceed
but decided that since it long predated Ivy, he could go ahead.  
"At night some of us would meet up at a nearby bar.  Sometimes Steve
would join us.  From what the rumor mill said, often in the evenings he
went to various hotel bars, ordered a drink and waited.  From what we
heard, most nights some woman would hit on him.  Well, that was the rumor.

"Near the end of the first week
after Steve took over the case, a couple of agents on the team put on disguises
and followed him. Within 20 minutes, a tall woman with short brown hair came
into the hotel bar, glanced around, walked over and started talking to
Steve.  Less than an hour later they went out together but at the door
Steve stopped, turned around and strode back to the table where the two agents
sat in their disguises.  He gave them one of his glares and told them to
get back to work.  He was unmerciful on those two from that day on. 
He questioned every suggestion they had; they never researched their work well
enough.  He made sure they would never follow him again."

He noticed that Ivy was laughing and
was glad she was so good humored about this disclosure of how Steve had once
been.  "Starting the first week, Steve had us take physical fitness
tests and do shooting drills like those that at the Academy, only these were
harder.  At seven every morning he began the day with a discussion around
his code of operation, the Bureau's code or basic truths.  Anyone who was
late was subjected to what we called 'the stare' from Steve.  Late twice
and he or she had a private session with Steve.  No one was ever late a
third time, not even Moll who was the least morning person on the team. 
At 7:15, it was on to business, including information sharing, critiques of our
casebook contributions, etc.  Trust me, Steve could be very pointed in his
evaluations, but not belittling.  

"At the start of week two, Steve
dropped several agents from the team for not making the grade.  From this
point forward we ate together, we drank together, and we worked together. 
We worked 12, 14, 16 hours a day, every day of the week.  When we drank
together, Steve would often repeat the same pickup routine but now
openly. 

"One night we decided to place
bets on how long it would take for some woman to hit on Steve.  Some
variation in our demeanors betrayed us to him.  He was walking out with a
tall thin blond, when he turned back, walked over to our table and held out his
hand.  He made five hundred bucks from us that night.  We left the
bar shamed that we had failed.  If we couldn’t to fool him, we would be
unlikely to fool a perp."

A doctor and nurse came in,
interrupting Mathew's story.  They checked Steve first and then Ivy. 
After they left, Mathew studied Ivy's face still feeling concerned that she
might be upset over hearing about Steve's practices in those days, but all she
seemed was interested.

"I was never desperate enough for
one-night stands,” she said, “But I had my share of dates and
relationships.  So much so that I became tired of it and stopped dating
for several years.  Until Steve.  He was different."

"He told me once that the dead
time started after his parents died.  He felt he lost the last ties he had
to a personal life."

"How sad for him.   How
very, very sad."

Ivy sagged back against her
pillows.  Mathew stood up, moved her tray table away and helped her slide
down for a nap.

"More to the story?" she
asked fighting to keep her eyelids open.

"Yes, later."

Around four that afternoon, Ivy woke
up again, refreshed her makeup, checked her hair and asked Mathew to help her
get over to Steve.  He remained as immobile as before.  Ivy stayed
with him for some time, talking and holding his hand.  Then she decided to
sit in a chair until dinner, such as it would be, was brought in.  

"Let me hear more about
Steve."

After all the hours of sitting in the
hospital, having Ivy to chat with was a welcome relief.  Mathew gladly
resumed talking.  "That third Friday night into working with Steve,
only the two of us were left in the hotel bar -- Steve and me.  We began
talking about love and marriage.  I told Steve that I believed someone
special was out there for me; but that I needed to earn the right to
unconditional love. 

"I stretched out my legs and
waited, wanting Steve to say something.  Finally he started talking about
his parents, how together their marriage was and how much he was a part of
their lives.  He told me that he knew people joked about his boyish
Beaver-Cleaver grin and then said that his childhood home was a lot like the
Cleaver house only with a Norwegian twist.  He always assumed he would
grow up, find Miss Right and live happily ever after like his parents had.

"I remember that he paused then
and looked off across the room at nothing in particular.  He tilted his
head slightly back and forth a couple of times, as if debating if he should
disclose more.   He then talked about how he was a failure at
relationships and how he had so much trouble carrying on a conversation with
the women he went out with that he gave up and went only for what he called
'the wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am’ sort of deal."

"Interesting.  We never have
trouble talking.  Well, sometimes we have trouble owning up to the things
that bother us the most about ourselves, but other than that, the words flow
between us."

“That’s because you are a lot like
Steve – kind of light on the chit-chat, but intense on more meaningful
conversation.  Anyway I asked about his marriage, hoping I wasn't prying
too much.  Steve shook his head and told me that his ex-wife wanted the D.C.
social life, so she divorced him and quickly married an influential lobbyist
making tons of money.  Then he asked about me and what I was after in
life.

"I talked about how I wanted a
woman with enough life experience to put the man inside me ahead of my face, my
brain and the fortune I inherited.  I wanted to build a life with her that
brought us so much joy we could never leave each other.  However I had to
get me figured out first.  All those years when my parents were traveling
their separate ways, I was with nannies and housekeepers or in boarding school.
 All that aloneness took its toll.  A heavy shroud was so enmeshed in
my heart that casting it off felt impossible.  Intellectually I understood
what I needed to do, however the pathway remained illusory.  In the
meanwhile, I planned and dreamed. 

"I'll always remember what he
said next -- he wished he had enough hope and faith to dream."

Mathew looked over at Ivy.  Her
face was very sad and he could tell that while she may never have felt the
degree of isolation that Steve experienced, she understood it well enough.

"He did a funny thing then,"
Mathew continued.  "Steve ordered two glasses of milk and a plate of
cookies.  Then he smiled that open grin of his and I marveled at the
dichotomic nature of the man.  He could act so world-weary and in a flash,
despite being a man in his fifties, he would turn into the wholesome kid next
door. When the cookies came, he split one in half, dunked it, chewed slowly and
asked me how I thought a man could get un-disillusioned.

"I found it odd that Steve with
his aura of invincibility was having this conversation with me and seeking my
advice.  He was so commanding on the job and had a powerful magnetism that
attracted women to him.  It was only then that I appreciated his weaknesses
when it came to more sensitive interpersonal relations.  We talked about
paths to finding more of ourselves, opening up our hearts and pursuing a woman
romantically, as a life partner and as an equal. 

"When we finished the cookies and
milk, Steve asked me if the other agents and I often talked about this sort of
romantic idealism.  I responded with something to the effect of, 'Yeah, we
do sometimes.  And you and I just did.  El Desperados.' "

He became somber when I used that
epithet and I worried I had gone too far.  Steve settled the bill in
silence and we parted, each of us looking thoughtful.  The next morning
our break came in the case, leaving us with no time for follow-up
conversations.  However I never saw him pull the pickup act again.

Ivy stretched in her chair.  She
was smiling.  "He is so appreciative of me.  No wonder. 
All those one-night stands.  All those wasted years.  Thank you for
telling me more about him.  What else?"

At that point, Ivy's dinner came
in.  It looked like turkey and gravy and smelled better than Mathew might
have expected.  Either that or he was getting hungry.  Ivy tasted it,
looked pleasantly surprised, and started to eat.  He continued talking.

"The next morning was a Saturday
in mid-July.  Steve was in his office and from what I could tell, he had
been there most of the night.  He canceled our morning meetings, which was
something he hadn’t done before.  He appeared to have gone for a swim and
as always was in crisp, pressed clothes -- even on weekends he wore a
suit.  He was banging away on the keyboard like an oversized rock star on
a set of bongos.  If he had been less intent, it might have been comical.

"Around 11 he burst out of his
office, shouting excitedly and calling us to our meeting table.  While we hustled
over, Steve phoned in a lunch order.  From that time right up to lunch, he
ran a computer model he had built showing scenario after scenario, which
shifted banking transactions over time and between accounts, selected from the
broad spectrum collected from the banks in our database.  The model kept
sets of running totals at the top of the screen, showing comparisons to the
accounts where the money sat in Cairo.  On the left he displayed a table
of anomalies -- outlier transactions that did not adhere to the pattern.

"Steve pointed at the screen and
explained that the money transferred out of a certain group of twelve accounts
showed staggered totals that over each three-week period, exactly matched the
money that came into other accounts we identified in Cairo.  The pattern
went back through the most recent six-month window he had selected and likely
further.  Moreover it was continuing day after day.  This money
transferred out was systematically flowing somewhere and it was our job find
out where." 

Ivy pushed a piece of floppy bread
aside and drank some of the milk from a carton on her tray.  "He
built that model from scratch?"

"Yeah.  It was a combo of
code written in C and Excel.  He embedded Excel in a window, so he could
more readily show the detailed transactions in a drill down.  He put one
team on tracing the money after it left the twelve identified accounts in
Cairo.  Another had to go back in time to see how long this
money-laundering scheme had been active.  He assigned my team the daunting
role of auditing the computer model he built and resolving the outlier
transactions -- the ones that did not fit the pattern that he had found.

"My understanding of program code
is not great. I can read straightforward logic but the more advanced techniques
lose me.  Luckily Brian had taken advanced classes and had performed
several program code reviews on cases. In addition Moll had become quite expert
at database structures and at searching and manipulating data.

"Steve told us the location of
his code and granted us read access permissions. He instructed us to set up our
own library and to start with a clean copy of the database of banking
transactions, in case he had gunked up the data.  His eyes glittered with
excitement.  This was the first time I had seen him totally focused on the
hunt -- his intensity was a bit scary.  An hour later having come down
from his high of discovery, he left.  He was back in the early evening,
again with his hair wet and in a fresh set of clothes.  He called us
together for an update.  

"Brian had been leading the code
review and at my insistence, he was to report the results.  When he stood
up to present our findings, his voice quavered as he started to speak.  He
reviewed the procedure we followed and discussed how we tweaked Steve's code,
since it did not seem to be running properly.

"Steve's face went pale. 
His shoulders sagged.  He motioned for Brian to continue.

"Brian inhaled deeply and said
something to the effect of, 'The results are even cleaner.  Those code changes
reduced the outlier anomalies by about 80%.  We are close to having it
nailed.'   Brian paused, and then added more quietly, '
Your
model was brill, Chief, really brill.  That's one
for the book.'  He reddened and sat down, surprising himself with his
temerity.

"Steve sank back into his chair
with a slow satisfied smile that had a hint of pride.   Then he stood
up, walked around and shook Brian's hand, something he only did when an agent
exceeded his expectations.  He nodded at Moll and at me still with that
smile.  After each team had accounted for their activities, Steve gave us
his big toothy grin, nodded and said, "Been a great day for us -- a
breakthrough day.  Let's call it a night.  Drinks and dinner on the
Bureau.  We'll hit it fresh in the morning.  I'll get a table at that
upscale Italian place down the street – the one called Val
d’Orcia
. 
Be there at 8:00.

"I noticed his use of 'us' and I
was to find that Steve always credited victories to the team and if blame came
down, he took it.  I remembered that at the Academy we considered him
superhuman.  After a couple of weeks of working with him, I realized we
only had an impression.  The reality was far broader and deeper than any
of us grasped.  He was demanding; he could be impatient.  On the
other hand he was insightful, technically adept and committed.  He led by
example and he was a great mentor in all the ways that counted."

Ivy squirmed in her chair. 
Mathew rose, moved her dinner out of the way and helped her over to see Steve
again. As they walked, she said, "We have never really sat like this and
talked about Steve.  It gives me a very different perspective on
him.  Let me spend some time with him.  When I'm back in bed, maybe
you can tell me about this case against Astuto until I nod off.  Then you
better go, have dinner and get some sleep.  Are you staying at the
Portland house?"

Mathew said, "Not
exactly.   I shower there, but I have been sleeping here."

Ivy looked at him in surprise.

"And I will continue to do that
until you both are released into my care."

She pressed his arm and smiled her
appreciation.  Tears welled up in her eyes, though she quickly wiped them
away as she bent down to kiss Steve.  Once she had settled herself back in
bed, she asked Mathew again to tell her about the recent case against the drug
lord.

"Okay, but first there is
something I want to say.  You and Steve are so good to me.  You treat
me like an equal and yet like a son too.  You let me lead when I want to;
you act as my sounding boards.  You even give me a good swift kick in the
pants when I need it."

Ivy laughed a little, remembering the
time in the kitchen when she had lectured Mathew.

"Most of all, you give me a
wonderful example of a loving relationship between two strong people. 
More than ever, you make me want to get married, have a home and start a
family.  You gave me a refreshed
raison d'être
.  I have more
to say but that will wait until all three of us can be drinking champagne,
lying back in the sun, gazing down at our embryonic vineyards and our
homes-to-be, up on those high knolls we call Spook Hills."

Ivy leaned forward and stared with
concern at Steve.  He remained as motionless and unaware as before.

"We have to believe that day will
come Ivy.  We have to.  Remember what Virgil said,
Amor
Vincit
Omnia
--
Love Conquers All Things." 
Mathew said softly.

Ivy nodded but continued
to regard Steve anxiously.  Mathew decided to talk about the drug lord to
distract her from worrying about Steve.  Just to be safe, he scooted his
chair closer to the side of Ivy's bed so he could talk in a less-carrying tone.

"So this case against Astuto . .
. we became embroiled in it because of money laundering; in fact the patterns
were similar to the 2007 case, but involving different banks, locations,
accounts and companies.  This time we had much improved software and the
knowhow to find the blueprint for the transactions relatively quickly. 
Someone was storing money in accounts in Colombia, for now letting it appear
like a long-term investment, spread into mutual funds, stocks, etc.  In
total, the same amounts from different accounts moved systematically out of
Colombia."

"Do you think it was a copy-cat
crime or just coincidence that the pattern was the same?"

"Since it was such a good scheme
in the 2007 case, we filed that part of the evidence under seal at the
Court."