Die Again to Save the World

by Ramy Vance

“My name is Agent Yamashiro, and this is my partner Agent Peet,” she introduced them perkily. “We’re with a government agency, and we have a few questions to ask.”

  “I…uh…” Julian’s eyes widened.

  “You’re not in trouble,” she said softly. “We’re investigating a case and think you might be able to help us. Can we come in?”

  Justin looked unsure. “Uh, this is my friend Tom’s house. He’s not here right now. I’m just babysitting.”

  “That’s fine.” She batted her eyelashes. “We’re not on official business. We just want to talk.”

  She used a sultry tone, and even Reuben felt his heart beat a little faster. But without a warrant, they were limited in what they could and couldn’t do.

  Aki played it well.

  “Uh, sure.” Julian grinned from ear to ear.

  They entered the house, which was modestly furnished with soft brown velour couches, and toys everywhere.

  “Sit down.” Julian rubbed his hands together and gestured toward the couches. “Can I get you anything?”

  Aki smiled. “Like I said, we’re not on official business, and to prove it, I’d love a glass of wine.”

  “Yeah.” Julian looked like he was about to burst with excitement. “I, uh, yeah, we got beer.”

  “Beer’s even better.” She ran her tongue over her lips.

  “Sure.” Julian turned toward the kitchen and almost tripped over a stuffed bear on the floor. “Dammit. You know kids…”

  She laughed, and he blushed and tossed the bear on the couch.

  “So, this is Tom Dwyer’s place?” Reuben asked when Julian returned with the beers. “From S-Wire?”

  “Yeah.” Julian sipped from his bottle. “You know S-Wire?”

  “RedBook is supposed to be a new revolution.” Reuben nodded with forced enthusiasm. “Can’t wait.”

  “Yeah.” Julian frowned and scratched his head. “It’s supposed to be something huge.”

  “Oh my God,” Aki suddenly gushed. “I totally know you.”

  Julian furrowed his brow. “What?”

  “Yes.” She snapped her fingers. “At that club. The Exit Room. You were there last night. Totally. I saw you.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Julian scratched his head. “I was there. I didn’t see you.”

  Aki feigned disappointment. “Are you kidding me? You don’t remember me?”

  Julian’s mouth dropped, and he stammered for words.

  “You bought me drinks…” She tried to jog his memory. She also touched her neckline, revealing a bit more skin.

  He snapped his fingers. “Yeah.”

  She pouted. “We were going to leave together, and then I lost you in the crowd, and I thought you ditched me.”

  “Oh, my God, no.” Julian’s face dropped, and he leaned in. “Totally no. You see, I got sick, and I don’t know what happened. Can we…start over, maybe?”

  She laughed too loud. “Oh my God, you are so cute. Do you have a girlfriend?”

  “Um,” he stammered. “No.”

  Reuben thought he would throw up. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?”

  “Yeah.” Julian pointed down the hall. “Second door to the left.”

  “So tell me.” Aki leaned forward, exposing even more cleavage than before. Julian noticed too, and from his expression, that was about all Julian noticed. “Are you staying here, in this house?”

  “Yeah.” He sat across from her and spoke to her chest. “I’m in New York for a little bit, and I just thought I’d stay here. What is it you guys are investigating?”

  “I need to know…” Aki batted her eyes. “Well, my boss needs to know, and maybe you can help me out a little bit. Everything about Alister Pout.”

  “Alister Pout?” Julian’s eyes got bigger. “Yeah, I know him.”

  Aki batted her eyelashes. “Like, Omigod, you like, know know him?”

  Reuben slowly ambled down the hall, taking in the view. Family pictures of Tom, Gina, the kids, and there was one of Stephanie. Then he found what was clearly a guest room. A meticulously decorated room with a suitcase and clothes strewn all about. With Aki occupying Julian in airheaded conversation, he had a few minutes. He stepped into the room and peered around.

  The room looked like it was out of a home-decorating magazine, with rustic farmhouse furniture, carefully placed jars of seashells, and a starfish hanging on the wall. A stack of art books sat perfectly angled on a corner shelf topped with a rubber succulent in a geometrically shaped terrarium.

  He stepped over Julian’s clothes, jeans, and t-shirts and rapidly pawed through the open suitcase on the floor. At the bottom was where he found it. The same plastic bags he had given Alister. They had a Canadian maple leaf label with a serial number, and they were full of weed.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Martha—Friday, February 10, 11:42 a.m.

  “This is the citation issued by Detroit-Windsor police.” Martha set the printouts on Captain Kenneth’s desk. “This is the story here about the maple syrup bust. As you can see, I highlighted major points of the story.”

  “Right.” The captain scanned the printed news article.

  As he did so, Martha worried her next part might lose him. She had this déjà vu sense going on in her head. Something about wire mesh at a dry cleaner’s named Mr. Sudds. Crates and crates of the stuff being transported by van. But she couldn’t tell him that.

  Kenneth glanced up at her. “You said you had something else?”

  Martha nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ve uh, got a source that can link Pout to a dry cleaner’s where he’s been transporting a bunch of metal mesh. Odd for a dry cleaner’s, right?”

  Captain Kenneth tapped a pen against the desk top, its cap chewed into a crumpled witch's hat. “Wait. Metal mesh. I think I read somewhere about terrorists in Europe using it to wrap around a homemade EMP bomb of some type. A gamma bomb, maybe?” He bit down on the pen's cap. “No. Wasn’t a gamma bomb. Something like that, though.”

  Martha's breath caught in her lungs. Homemade experimental bombs? This was a new low for Pout and proved yet again how dangerous the man was.

  He set the pen down and picked back up the printouts Martha had brought in. “I’m not so sure about the mesh thing right now, but this syrup bust.” His face grew serious. “A cop died during the ensuing shootout.”

  A few moments later, he nodded grimly when he saw Pout's traffic citation on the page in his hands. “I feel sorry for the bastard that had to issue that ticket. I mean, how do you issue a ticket in the name of Alister Pout? Geez.”

  “Well, sir, when we’re done with this case, we won’t be issuing a ticket,” she said. “We’ll be issuing a warrant.”

  He sighed and tossed the papers on his desk. “Maybe. Look, I think you might be onto something, but this isn’t enough.”

  “He was clearly part of the maple syrup operation,” she said. “There was an officer who died. He was partly responsible.”

  “You’ve got to be a certain brand of crazy to label Alister Pout a cop killer.” He blinked in disbelief and leaned back in his chair. He cupped his hands over his head. “But, I don’t think we should drop it.”

  Martha’s heart raced. “So you want me to move on it?”

  “I’m not sure yet.” Captain Kenneth studied the ceiling. “I mean, what would he want with maple syrup bootlegging? He owns half the rich people in Manhattan. I just think it’s not his style.”

  He looked at the article again. “The syrup was supposed to be owned by a company called White Mountain Natural Foods. I’ve never heard of them.”

  He turned to his computer, Martha whipped out her phone, and they both looked up White Mountain Natural Foods. He found it first. “It’s in Montreal, and it’s a natural food production chain. Like a co-op.”

  Martha thought about Marshall’s co-op with the milk producers.

  “The thing about food co-ops,” she knew she sounded knowledgeable, “is they get big and they get slo
ppy. Then they start messing up.”

  Captain Kenneth laughed. “You’re right about that. When I was a rookie, there was this unsolvable case…”

  “Raw milk?” Martha asked.

  “Yeah.” He laughed. “Politics and family connections. Who knows who, and the next thing you know—”

  “Someone’s getting poisoned,” Martha finished.

  The captain chuckled and had a faraway look. “It was already considered unsolvable when I came around. But the veterans like to ramble on about it. It was an interesting case. No one ever got to the bottom of it.”

  Martha knew all about it, thanks to Marshall. “But this one we can solve. I know Pout’s at the bottom of this.”

  Kenneth clicked around on his computer some more. “White Mountain Natural Foods is owned by a company called Manchester Enterprises. They own a bunch of software companies. These guys are all over the map.”

  “Manchester Enterprises?” She searched on her phone and found it quickly enough. She skimmed the article and her eyes widened. “They’re owned by the Trillium Group and are operated out of BTI.”

  “BTI?” Kenneth pursed his lips. “Isn’t that…”

  “Pout,” they both said in unison.

  Martha picked up her bag and headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Kenneth called after her.

  “To see a friend who might have some insight into this,” she said, calling up Google maps on her phone.

  Now, what was Buzz’s address again? she mused.

  Reuben—Friday, February 10, 4:01 p.m.

  Reuben and Aki arrived back at CIA headquarters. Aki sat at her computer, and Reuben leaned against her desk as they looked over their newly found evidence.

  “I gotta admit,” he cleared his throat sheepishly, “you sure looked good when you were sweet-talking Julian.”

  She laughed. “He’s certainly cute.”

  “So you’re attracted to stoner dropouts, huh?” Reuben smirked. “So I guess I should take up weed.”

  “Oh, God.” She laughed. “You’d be terrible to smoke pot with.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “You’d get too jumpy.” She shuddered.

  “And Julian’s better?” He pursed his lips.

  “No, Julian’s a dumbass,” she whispered.

  They both dissolved in laughter.

  “Like, I, uh…” Reuben imitated Julian’s voice.

  “Oh, God.” She rubbed her face. “Well, what do you have here?”

  He showed her the photo of the pot baggies. The serial number was for a Canadian dispensary.

  “So,” she wrote down the number, “we call the Canadian secret service.”

  “There’s a Canadian secret service?” Reuben asked.

  She pulled up a number and dialed it on speaker.

  “Canadian Mounted Police,” the voice answered. “This is Heath.”

  “Hi, Heath,” Aki said. “This is Aki Yamashiro in New York.”

  “Oh, my God,” Heath answered. “Aki, damn. How long has it been?”

  “About five years?”

  “You mean I’ve been stuck in this ice box for five years of my mid-thirties? Christ. What has become of my life?”

  Aki laughed hard and turned to Reuben. “Heath used to work in this office.”

  Reuben could have gathered that but appreciated the heads up.

  “How’s everybody?” Heath asked. “How’s Mike?”

  Aki’s mood changed. “He’s good. He just got back from Cairo. We’re on a bit of a break right now.”

  “Sorry to hear that.” Heath didn’t sound sorry at all. “Tell everyone I miss them.”

  “I will,” she chirped. “Hey, listen, can you run a background check for me?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I need to find out about a marijuana dispensary. I’ve got a serial number here.”

  “OK.” The sound went muffled, and Heath typed for a moment. “Go ahead with that serial number.”

  Aki read it off, then waited.

  “Yeah,” Heath finally said. “That’s registered to CM—Cannabis of Montreal. The contact there we have is Yuri Brenton. He’s a big player out here. He owns Brenton Shipping, a multi-million dollar enterprise. So whatever you’re up to, and I know you’re onto something, be careful. These guys don’t play.”

  “Oh, you know I won’t, Heath,” she teased.

  He laughed. “Yet somehow you manage to survive. Tell me, what are you up to these days?”

  “Oh, keeping it fresh,” she evaded, with an eye roll at Reuben. “Heath, I’m going to have to let you go. We’re pretty busy down here.”

  “All right, well, you know I always like to hear from the old New York people. Look me up, you know.”

  “Will do, Heath,” she said. “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  She ended the call and made a face. “Poor guy, he’s lonely.”

  “What’s his deal?” Reuben asked.

  Aki leaned back and toyed with her pen. “He was an agent here for a long time, a good one, too. But he got out of his depth and got double-crossed by a contact. He was tracking a big player in a drug trafficking ring. He had a contact that was giving him great information, and so he went out there, alone, and thought the contact had his back. As it turned out, the contact was relaying everything back to the drug lords. When Heath got out there, it was a trap. They kidnapped him, tortured him for information, and held him hostage for a week”.

  “That’s terrible!” Reuben exclaimed.

  Aki nodded. “Sven sent a team out to get him, and they were able to rescue him. But the whole operation was trashed beyond repair, and they had managed to crack him. Invaluable knowledge about what the agency knew got into the wrong hands. Probably single-handedly changed the drug war forever. Once they got him back to New York, he wasn’t the same. Sven arranged for him to work undercover as a Canadian Mountie. He feeds us information from the inside when we need it. But it’s low profile, not risky.”

  Reuben shook his head in sympathy. “Damn. That’s sad.”

  Aki nodded. “Yeah. I can tell he’s lonely. He was kind of a larger-than-life party guy, too.”

  Reuben couldn’t imagine being sent to the ass-end of nowhere for the remainder of his career. “Man, is that what happens to disgraced field agents?”

  “Sometimes,” she answered softly. “All right, we’ve got to find this Yuri Brenton with Brenton Shipping.”

  “Reuben.” Sven approached them. “Great work on the Schaeffer case. The doctored CCTV footage, huh? Where do you think that came from?”

  “We think it might be Pout,” Reuben answered.

  Sven scoffed and gave a long whistle. “Well, if we’ve got to take him down, we’ve got to take him down. I’ve worked on more than one presidential impeachment, so I can handle taking down Pout if we have to. But we’ve got to have our ducks in a row.” Sven winked and then went back to his office.

  Reuben’s mouth dropped, and Aki nodded with approval.

  “Keep this up, you’ll get promoted.” She smiled and playfully punched his arm.

  “Let’s not go that far.” He laughed. “I’m going to write up what we’ve done today.”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “The interview with Julian, make sure to upload those photos, and the Canadian dispensary. I’ll look into Brenton.”

  Reuben smiled, glad to have her on his side. “Sounds good.”

  He went back to his desk and started the write-up. In vivid detail, he entered all the information he had. But all he could think about was Aki. How she had looked at him and how her teasing touch had sent a shiver down his spine. If he could just save the world and not have to die again, he could hold on to all of this forever.

  Aki reappeared at his desk. “OK. Here’s what we know about Yuri Brenton, and Brenton Shipping. He’s a ‘naturalist’ healer type.”

  Reuben grimaced. “Oh God, not one of those.”

  “Yeah, he’s all into natura
l growth and chakras. He lives off the grid, and he’s got generators running off the Hudson River. He is firmly convinced that the apocalypse is upon us.”

  “Which apocalypse?” Reuben smirked. “Hindu, Christ, Muslim, Buddhist—assuming they have one.”

  “All of them.” Aki registered no humor. “This guy is a real nut job. We’re going to have to be careful getting in with him. These kind of guys, they’ve got nothing to lose.”

  Reuben knew the type. “Anything else we need to know?”

  “Yeah.” She looked down at her notes. “Brenton Shipping’s major investor is BTI.”

  Reuben and Aki locked eyes for a moment, and then his phone went off.

  “Let me…” He gestured toward his pocket as he pulled his phone out.

  It was Martha.

  “Knock yourself out.” Aki smiled. “There’s plenty to do here.”

  He answered the phone as Aki stepped away from his desk and walked back to hers. “Hey, Martha.”

  “Hi. So I know you’re busy, but we’re working this Pout angle.”

  “Who’s ‘we?’” he asked.

  “Buzz,” she said.

  “Hi, Reuben,” Buzz chimed in from the background. “We miss you.”

  That was Buzz’s drunk voice. Martha must be in hell dealing with him alone.

  “Shut up.” Then Martha’s voice got louder as she spoke into the phone. “I just wanted to fill you in on our progress.”

  “We!” Buzz yelled.

  “Fine, we wanted to update you. Seems Pout got a speeding ticket at the Canadian border in Detroit. Three hours before the shootout on Wednesday, the eighth.”

  Reuben smiled. “So he was definitely there.”

  “Yep, his business empire is a maze of different groups. It’s hard to pin it all down.”

  “I know,” he said. “It’s all companies within companies.”

  “Exactly,” Martha agreed. “But he owns the maple syrup company, basically.”

  “What’s the maple syrup company called?”

  “White Mountain Foods,” she said. “What have you got?”

  “Not a lot,” he lied. He wanted to get back to Aki before going down the rabbit hole with everything he’d found. “Right now, I’ve got that he owns a Canadian pot dispensary and he picked up some from a small-time dealer outside Mr. Sudds.”