“Usted va con un violador.” They are putting you in with a rapist.
Trece’s eyes flicked to a Hispanic man with a large thirteen tattoo on his forehead. The man bumped into him and slipped a handmade shiv into his hand.
“Conseguir que antes de que usted consigue.”
Get him before he gets you.
Trece growled at the little man with the tattoo. The little man raised his hands and backed away. A guard pushed the prisoner father away from Trece. They continued moving into the prison.
“Trece!” a voice yelled the name of the gang, the V 13s, and Andrew Ramirez’s nickname. Another voice from a cell near the top of the prison joined in, “Trece!”
Shouting “Trece,” the prisoners began to stamp their feet in the cells. Trece had forgotten what it was like to be connected with the brotherhood. He’d grown up in the V 13 in Venice, California. Trece was ten years old when his cousin had killed a cop. Trece had taken the rap to keep his cousin from killing his mother.
He despised the V 13 and everything they stood for. But right now, in this prison, they stood between him and almost certain death. He tried to strut like he deserved the attention.
“Quiet down,” the guards yelled. “Knock it off.”
The Aryan Brotherhood responded by banging on their metal bars and screaming threats. The Black Guerilla Family began to yell and stomp on the floor. Not to be out done, the Nuestra Familia joined the “Trece” call. The sound of the prisoners was deafening. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw guards on every level move along the cells.
A guard grabbed him by the collar of his blue shirt and tossed him into a cell.
Clang. The cell door closed.
That horrible sound that meant he was truly trapped, alone, and at the mercy of the predator.
Click. The cell door locked.
And he was stuck.
Trece smelled the man more than saw him. He spun in place.
“Wheet whoo,” the man whistled as he circled Trece. “You are one fine piece of ass.”
Trece grabbed the man by the collar. With one quick jerk, Trece had cut off the man’s air supply with the front of his shirt. He pulled the prisoner close to his face and sneered. His other hand pressed the shiv just under the man’s rib cage.
The man’s eyes laughed at him. Trece was about to choke him out when the man nodded to his right shoulder. The eyes of the man’s long, olive-green snake tattoo were tiny black Vivaldi F’s. He gave Trece a “go-ahead” nod and Trece choked him unconscious. Trece tossed the man onto the top bunk.
Too wound up for sleep, Trece went through his cellmate’s possessions. Behind a Hustler centerfold, he found a note written in Arabic on lined paper. The jagged edge indicated the paper and note were torn from one of the memo books resting on the top shelf. This note was for him. He sat down on the bottom bunk and read.
“Best guess is your cousin was picked up by the cartels in Juarez. Until we find his body, you’re stuck. This is Emanuel Vega. He’s DHS, Weapons of Mass Destruction. Rumor is the MS-13 are making bioweapons in the toilets of Pelican Bay and moving them via their relatives. Your cousin brokered a deal between the V 13, the MS-13, and Nuestra Familia in Pelican Bay. They will be around to vet you. Emanuel is a viper. He can call it anytime, and you’ll go into SHU. It’s up to you. We’re working to get you home. A”
Trece lay back on the bunk and wondered it meant to be a viper. Vipers were deadly poisonous snakes native to the Americas, a home built kit plane, and a helicopter flown by the US Marines. Trece had no idea what Alex meant by “Emanuel is a viper.” After driving himself crazy, he settled into missing Luz and White Boy. For the last twenty years or so, if he wasn’t with Luz, he was with White Boy. Finally, he got sick of himself and practiced his Alex-mandated Zen meditation.
The viper would be up soon, and Trece would have to deal with him.
At least he was safe.
He smiled and thanked whatever God arranged for him to meet Alex Hargreaves and then remembered that her father had sent him to Bosnia. The image of God he’d learned in catechism – the white man with the long white beard sitting on a throne in the fluffy white clouds – now had Patrick Hargreaves face. He laughed out loud. Closing his eyes, he settled into his meditation.
F
CHAPTER EIGHT
Saturday evening
November 6 – 5:35 p.m. MDT
Denver, Colorado
“Hey,” Alex came out of the house carrying two beers. She gave one to Troy and sat down in an Adirondack chair next to him. “The boys love the garden.”
As was common in Denver, yesterday’s snow was a memory today. The ground was wet, but not yet frozen.
“It’s November,” Troy said. “It snowed yesterday.”
“And there’s still food to harvest?” Alex nodded.
“Blows my mind,” Troy said.
“What did Cian send them out for?” Alex asked.
“Kale and carrots,” Troy pointed to where the boys were plucking carrots from the beds. “Wyatt and Fionn are . . .”
“Amazing,” Alex said. “It was fun to watch everything grow this summer.”
Last fall, Wyatt and John’s nephew, Fionn, presented a plan to turn their patch of grass into garden beds. After much worry, lots of planning, and days of intense shovel work, they had a bounty of fresh vegetables that had sustained them all summer. Of course, Max and Alex’s beehives deserved a lot of the credit.
“What do you think about chickens?” Troy asked.
“Fionn seems to have his heart set on them,” Alex said. “But John thinks he’ll get into med school next April. I don’t know how he’ll take care of the birds.”
“Child labor,” Troy said. “The boys are excited. Fionn told them he was going to rescue chickens from those bankrupt egg farms. The boys are over the moon at the idea of saving anything, even chickens.”
Alex smiled.
“It’s nice to have them here,” Alex said. “You’re generous to share your boys with us.”
Troy laughed.
“Why is that funny?” Alex asked.
“You or John or Max or Wyatt; you guys are always ready to take care of them,” Troy said. “I would be lost without Cian and Eoin, and your help with Hector James, and . . . just everything. Hermes loves Samantha. We’re really happy here. I am.”
“But?”
“We should probably leave,” Troy said.
“Why?” Alex asked.
Troy turned to look at her.
“I don’t know how to say this,” Troy said.
“What?”
“I didn’t tell you everything today,” Troy said.
“I know,” Alex smiled and took a drink of her beer. “I also know that you’ll eventually tell me.”
Troy snorted a laugh.
“Cian was funny this afternoon,” Alex said. “Did you expect him?”
“No,” Troy said. “The boys must have told him we were meeting to talk about the drones. He’s their best friend. I guess that sounds creepy.”
“But true,” Alex said.
“Did you learn what you wanted to know?” Troy asked. “From the boys, I mean.”
“I don’t know what I wanted to know,” Alex shrugged. “I just wanted to know what they did. They’re such sweet boys. It would never occur to them not to tell me everything.”
“And thar warn’t nothin’ ilse t’ know,” Troy did his best Cian impression. Alex laughed.
“Are you done interrogating these boys?” Alex added in Irish Gaelic.
Troy laughed. The boys looked up when he laughed, and he smiled at them.
“Hector James is going to show me how to make the drones work,” Troy said under his breath. “It’s a connection thing. I hadn’t thought of it, maybe ever.”
“You mean Dahlia came up with it?”
Troy nodded.
“You’ll let me know what you learn?” Alex asked.
Troy nodded.
“Is i
t weird that they belong to you?” Alex asked.
“The boys or the drones?” Troy smiled. “Yes to both.”
Alex smiled.
“Are you waiting for me to tell you what I didn’t say this morning?” Troy asked.
“I am,” Alex nodded. Troy laughed. Hermes ran over with his hands full of carrots.
“Here,” Hermes said.
Troy held open a cotton bag and Hermes stuffed the carrots into it. He ran back to where his brother was plucking kale leaves off a plant.
“I gave the plans to you, Alex,” Troy said.
“To me?” Alex raised her eyebrows in surprised.
Troy nodded.
“I told you to give them to Dahlia,” Troy said. “You must have because she got them.”
Alex gave a slight shake of her head and looked at the beehives along their back fence.
“Why is that a secret?” Alex asked. “I used to bring Dahlia all kinds of stuff from you. Every trip through DC included a stop to drop stuff off to her.”
“It’s not a secret,” Troy leaned closer to her. “I didn’t want you to get in trouble with your dad.”
Alex laughed.
“Ferrying presents to my love?” Troy nodded. “It wasn’t exactly legal.”
“It wasn’t illegal,” Alex said. “It wasn’t . . . anything really. I just wish I’d known what was going on. Poor Dahlia.”
Troy looked away.
“Do you remember giving her the plans?” Troy asked.
“No,” Alex said. “Like I said, I was always delivering something via the Olivas underground railway.”
“It would have been right after she had Hector James,” Troy said.
“The keys to your heart,” Alex nodded. “I do remember that. I went to see her in the hospital. Max came along. Hector James was a beautiful baby. He’s a wonderful child.”
“The plans were in that set,” Troy said.
Alex nodded.
“Has it occurred to you that Hector killed my Dahlia because she knew he was a fraud?” Troy asked.
“It has,” Alex said.
“She would have never said anything,” Troy said. “Ever.”
“I know,” Alex said.
“Hector would have known that,” Troy said. “Did he plan her murder because she left him? Or to keep her quiet? Or something else?”
“We should ask your father,” Alex said. “I bet he knows.”
“How?” Troy asked. “He won’t see me.”
“Use the mother network,” Alex said. “Your mother is still in contact with him, right?”
“Just until they finish sorting out their finances, property, his book royalties and contracts, crap like that. She schleps up to Lewisburg Prison once a month to see him for an hour,” Troy said. “She thinks she’ll be done by the end of the year or January. Then she’ll sell the house and move here.”
“What about Helen?” Alex asked.
“Helen?
“Your sister? The boys’ aunt?” Alex asked. “She’s stable now. I bet she knows more than you’d think.”
“Why bother her?” Troy’s flushed with guilt. “She hasn’t done anything wrong. She’s paid horribly.”
“You won’t visit Helen?” Alex asked.
“I doubt she knows anything, honestly,” Troy said. “She was my father and Hector’s loyal minion. For her loyalty, they tortured her outright all of her life. Don’t you think she’s paid enough?”
Alex looked away from him.
“I know that look,” Troy said. “What?”
“I wonder what she knows,” Alex said. “That’s all. The next time I’m in DC, I’ll have to stop by and ask her.”
“She hates you,” Troy laughed.
“It does sound fun, doesn’t it?” Alex smiled.
“Not to me,” Troy said.
“You think you can get my father to give up information?” Troy raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“You just miss the joy of super selfish people,” Alex said. “Once you know they only care about themselves, they are fairly easy to manipulate. We can throw in a benefit or two. Tell us what we want to know and you get . . . I don’t know. What would you give him?”
“A silver bullet straight through the heart?” Troy said.
“Snacks,” Alex said. “I’ve never met a man that couldn’t be bribed with snacks.”
“What snacks?” Hector James asked. His hands full of kale, he walked over to where they were sitting.
“See what I mean?” Alex smiled.
“How ‘bout French fries?” Hermes asked.
“French fries? French fries?” Cian said as he came out onto the deck. “What? That will ruin your dinner!”
“Please!” Hermes begged.
“Pretty please!” Hector James added.
Cian made a show of thinking it through.
“Magnificent idea!” Cian said.
“Yea!” the boys cheered.
“In you go! Do you have carrots?”
“Daddy has them,” Hector James said.
Cian took the bag from Troy. He followed the boys into the house.
“Why would you move out?” Alex asked.
“Guess I figured you’d want me to,” Troy shrugged.
“Because I forgot something?” Alex asked. She waved to Raz as he came in the back gate. He waved and went in his carriage house.
“Because . . . ,” Troy shrugged. “My life is in the center of this crap.”
“So is mine,” Alex said.
“Ever wonder why that is?” Troy asked.
“Sure.”
“Any ideas?”
“None,” Alex got up from her chair. “Let’s go in before we get too cold.”
She waited for Troy to get up and was about to follow him inside when she heard her name. Raz waved to her from his carriage house.
“You go ahead,” Alex said to Troy. She added in a loud voice, “Save some carrot and kale stew for me.”
“Kale chips!” Cian yelled from the kitchen.
She ran down the path to avoid hearing whatever else Cian yelled at her back. Raz opened his door before she knocked and stepped back to let her into his carriage house. She followed him to his sitting area, where he gave her a cup of coffee.
“Coffee?” Alex drank it down. “That feels caffeinated.”
He nodded.
“What’s up?”
“You look happy,” Raz said.
“I was egging on Cian,” she said.
“Like always,” He smiled.
She nodded.
“Where’s your phone?” Raz asked.
“In my back pocket,” Alex said. “Why?”
Alex took the phone out to show him. He took the phone from her.
“It’s turned off,” Raz said.
“Oh right,” Alex gave him a guilty smile. “I turned it off when we went to talk to the boys. What did I miss? I was with Colin and Troy. Wouldn’t they have told me?”
“Cee Cee Joiner put a young woman on life support,” Raz said.
“Again?” Alex shook her head in disbelief.
“Second time this year,” Raz said.
“Where?”
“Chongqing. He’s there illegally.”
“China? That’s weird. We were just there,” Alex said. “Did he get caught?”
“Caught, tried, and is scheduled for execution,” Raz said.
“Oh,” A wave of sadness overcame her and she sat down on his couch. “Really?”
“I thought you’d be happy.” Raz sat down next to her.
“I thought he could tell us . . . something,” Alex said. “He seems connected to everything from the team’s death to . . . jeez, global warming.”
“Global warming?” Raz scowled.
“You know what I mean,” Alex said.
“I do,” Raz said. “Cee Cee Joiner seems to be involved in everything we’ve worked on in the last five years.”
“I guess I thought he’d get caught and trad
e information for a lighter sentence.”
“He may still want to trade information,” Raz said. “You’ve been invited to interview him. You get one hour.”
“When?”
“Tuesday,” Raz said. “He’ll be executed Tuesday, November 9 at ten in the morning. You are invited to attend. You’ve also been offered one hour with him on Monday prior to his execution.”
“Just me?”
“We,” Raz said. “You and I. It’s been cleared through the US Consulate. We are expected to be on our way in a few hours.”
“How much time do we have?”
“Two hours,” Raz said. “But Alex, the head of Chinese Intelligence has requested an interview with you as well.”
“That’s not good,” Alex grimaced.
“We can decline,” Raz said. “In fact, we probably should decline.”
“We are the Fey Team, Raz,” Alex shrugged. “We serve the people of China as well as the rest of the world. Are you sure you want to go? Last time, Sami freaked out when she saw the press photos of us dancing at a party in China.”
“I remember,” Raz smiled. “I’ll speak with Sami about the press photos.”
“Do that,” Alex said. “And let me know.”
She nodded. He smiled. For a moment, they sat on the couch, each of them lost in their own thoughts.
“No point avoiding the inevitable,” Raz said.
Nodding, Alex got up and left his carriage house. She felt as if her feet were lead. With each step, she moved closer and closer to the moment she’d have to leave home. She grimaced and went inside.
She went through the milk porch and opened the door to the kitchen. The kitchen was a glorious assault of laughter, warmth, and great smells. Alex stopped in the doorway to draw in the joy.
Hermes was sitting on the counter stirring a bowl of kale and spices. Hector James was learning how to make eggplant parmesan. Hermes and Cian were talking at the same time. When Hector James smiled at her, Cian looked up.
“Neevie is staying here,” Cian said. “That okay with you?”
“Of course,” Alex said. “I’m grateful for her help.”
“You have that look,” Cian said.
Hermes stopped talking.
“I have to leave for a trip in a bit,” Alex said.
In the Grey Page 8
