The police records of an abduction of a ten-year-old boy came up on the screen. Steve juggled the windows on his laptop to display two other pieces of information -- a news story and a county birth certificate. The short news coverage read:
Miami Herald, The (FL)
October 8, 1985
Section: Front
Edition: Final
Page: 22A
Missing Boy Found Near Death
Miami Herald Staff Report
The missing boy, Eduardo Fuentes of Hialeah, abducted 10 days ago has been found alive and is under treatment for broken bones, burns and lacerations in Palmetto General Hospital in Hialeah. When he was walking home from school, a roving drug gang out of Miami kidnapped the boy. He was held captive in a house used for drug packaging in the Opa Locka area. The reason for the boy's detention is unknown. Police sources indicated that he had been subjected to extensive physical abuse inflicted over the time he was missing. He was also suffering from water and food deprivation. The house was deserted when the police arrived after receiving an anonymous tip. They found the boy locked in a closet, bound, gagged and near death. They also discovered the remains of a drug operation. They continue to search for those responsible.
His mother and brothers appreciate the community's support in the search for the boy. They ask for prayers for his recovery.
Copyright (c) 1985 The Miami Herald
"If this is Astuto, it means that he is only 39," Steve said excitedly. "This incident of extreme duress happened when he was 10. Assuming he started working on the drug operation when he was 20, in less than the same number of years he was able to put together a powerful drug cartel, set up effective money laundering schemes and become very wealthy, although to what extent can only be guessed."
"You find anything on his parents?" Ivy asked.
"Dad died at 50 from lung cancer, if I found the right obit." He fiddled with the windows and up popped the obituary. It sure sounded right based on the survivors:
". . . Alejándro is survived by his wife, Marista (née Machado), and his three sons, Cristo, Cruze and Eduardo.
"And the mother?"
"Died in 2008 of complications from an aneurism. Here's that obit."
Marista Fuentes had been living in Coral Gables. The three sons were listed as survivors. A private memorial service had been held and the mother buried next to the father in Hialeah.
Mathew was staring at the screen. "Wait a minute. Those names -- Cristo, Cruze and Eduardo. CCE. That was the name of the charitable foundation where the money went after it was siphoned off in Zurich."
"Bingo!" Steve shouted with a grin of triumph. "Now to factually link them to known crimes, and then run each one of them to ground."
He leaned back in his chair, gazed up at the rafters and allowed himself a moment of victory before rocking back down and saying. "Finally, we may have something concrete on who these perps are. Thank you Ivy. Your creative thinking that led us down this path. Your work and contributions have shown sides of you that otherwise might have remained hidden from me, such as your tenacity, your dedication to what has been tedious work, and your determination to see it through."
Then he turned to Mathew. "Mathew, I so appreciate that you stayed with this when you would rather be into your new life, out in your vineyards, and starting the plans for our wine production facility. You stuck with this even when you thought it was a dead end. Heck I even was beginning to think we were off track."
Steve brought up a blank word document, inserted a table and they began brainstorming next steps and assigning tasks. While they were putting up the task list, he called Brian and Moll to see if they would leave on short notice for Florida to handle research on the ground. They also had to search for links between the Fuentes and the drug and money laundering companies they had identified. Mathew found it interesting that the mother's obit failed to mention any daughter-in-laws or grandchildren.
"We have to catch them or we will spend our lives waiting for the next blow." Mathew clenched his jaw so tightly with determination it started to hurt. "Let's hope this leads somewhere."
"It will," Steve said. "All the right signs are there. How about dinner out tonight? Brian and Moll are on their way down, so it can be us three, the two of them and Fred."
"Steve, I'll stay here. I don't think we should all be away at one time."
Steve frowned and said. "Damn. You're right. How about we order in and two of us go pick it up? It's not ideal, but we'll make it fun."
While they were a long way from nailing the perps, they had a possible direction. Once they could find the current location for one of the Fuentes, they would confirm that they had found the right three brothers. For now, they had to get their names run through the available government databases to see if they could find more information. They each wanted this hunt done and over to get on with their new lives. Now the hard part of the case began -- finding the brothers and proving that together they constituted El Zorro Astuto.
***
Out in the barn, Mathew and Fred pushed the worktables together. Ivy went through boxes and dugout a long tablecloth and napkins, and then she and Fred went out to gather late wildflowers, which they strung into a sort of vine of white, yellow, blue and fuchsia woven along the center of the table. Steve pulled chairs up to the table, put champagne on ice and placed glasses in a picnic basket, while Mathew chilled bottles of pinot gris and chardonnay and set out bottles of pinot noir.
Once Brian and Moll arrived, they took some crostini that Ivy cobbled together along with the champagne up to the little walnut grove. They toasted their success and then called in an order to a local restaurant, which Mathew and Brian drove down to Dundee to pick up, including entrees, salads and desserts. Once they returned, they laid the food out on the table in the barn, eating picnic style out of the cartons and sharing bits with each other. Moll added music, drawing from the eclectic collection on his iPod that he hooked up to small speakers, which often included perky Celtic dance tunes and more gentle tones of a solitary harp.
Fred was much taken with Moll, egging him on during dinner to tell his outlandish versions of work at the Bureau. In particular, Moll's fatuous imitations of Steve gave everyone much needed entertainment. For the first time since the shooting at the Portland house, Ivy laughed whole-heartedly and that made the dinner special for Steve. The evening cooled down as they ate, talked, drank and laughed. By ten o'clock, they were ready for bed, with Moll and Brian opting to bunk down in Fred's trailer and drive out early to catch their flight to Miami. Once they completed the investigative work in Florida, Steve planned to spring their trap for the hired guns of the perps. The scheme they devised would be simple to carry out, nicely devilish, and they hoped foolproof.
***
On Sunday afternoon, Ivy took herself on a walk through the house, reviewing the computerized layout of the furnishings that Steve created and verifying that it would all work together. The floors and tiling were almost completed. The exterior and landscaping were all finished. Mathew and Steve had been great at convincing the contractor to do work simultaneously where the housing inspection process would allow it. She was looking forward to being out of the trailers and into her new home with Steve, but they still had Astuto to contend with. So much was riding on what Brian and Moll might find out in Florida.
Perhaps her favorite space in her new home would be the inviting glass conservatory with its grey-blue split granite pavers, situated between the garage and the kitchen. While Steve's idea was for her to grow herbs for year-round use, she also planned to put a couple of oversized chairs and ottomans between the pots of herbs, along with a serving table for afternoon tea or glasses of wine.
Steve planned a workout area downstairs by the lap pool, with enough space for a few pieces of equipment, some free weights and a couple of mats. While he had been hesitant to spend the money on himself for the lap pool, once Ivy indicated she would use it to stay fit in the winter months, hi
s reluctance vanished. She still thought of it as Steve's pool, but she liked the prospect of skinny-dipping with Steve in the moonlight. She breathed in deeply, enjoying the new smell of the house, using the moment to renew her resolve to help find and apprehend the three brothers.
***
Two days later while they were working in the barn, Steve laid his cell phone down on his desk and motioned Ivy and Mathew over. Brian had called from Florida and he and Moll were on speaker.
"Okay London. Mathew and Ivy are here. Repeat what you told me."
"We found a mailing address on file with the Mother's will and other papers," Brian said, sounding breathless in his excitement. "It is the same for each of the three brothers -- one Post Office box in Santa Fe, New Mexico."
"That's unexpected!" interjected Mathew.
"One of you book a flight to Santa Fe to go undercover," said Steve.
"Already bagged a flight Chief," came Moll's blasé voice.
"I'll arrange with the Postmaster to add you to the postal staff. Work there until the Fuentes mail is picked up, then follow whoever comes in. I will overnight tracking devices to you along with some software via the Postmaster. Get the tracker on the vehicle of whoever picks up the mail. This will be a no contact situation -- only surveillance. Understand?"
"Yeah."
"Don't get spotted. We do not want to tip off the perps. Make yourself blend in -- take a short term apartment; buy clothes like the locals, etc."
"He's already reverting to the surfer look here in the Miami sun," Brian said with a laugh.
"Good. In the post office, we will set you up as coming from a smaller location that is rapidly expanding due to new housing developments. You will be there to learn the ropes of how a larger postal unit operates. Only the Postmaster will be informed that you are FBI. Don't let anyone suspect which mailbox you are watching. Be prepared for this to take some time. The mail could be picked up in a day or a week or a month or longer."
"Got it, Chief. Worse places to cool my heels than Santa Fe."
"Brian, did you drive by where the Mother lived?"
"Not yet. Will do that next. Do you want me to talk to neighbors?"
"No. Let's not draw any attention. What else is left?"
"That’s about it here Chief, unless you have other ideas."
"Fly out today, but go to a city outside the Northwest and stay overnight. Then catch a flight for here."
Ivy smiled at the way Brian and Moll called Steve "Chief" when they were on a case, in the same way that Steve always referred to the Director of the FBI as "The Chief". She decided she would do the same to see how Steve would react.
***
On Thursday they sat in the darkened barn. Brian had rejoined them and they were going over what they accumulated about the Fuentes so far. Their research turned up some very old crimes on the twins dating to when they were in high school. Most were minor issues like carjacking, although one drug dealing charge was on file against Cruze when he was a minor, for which he served a year in a juvenile detention center. After that, nothing new turned up. None of them had passports under their birth names. DMV records in New Mexico and Florida failed to show any driver's licenses, making it likely that they used false IDs inside the United States as well as when traveling internationally.
Brian had copies of the photos of the Fuentes twins from their high school yearbooks, but could not find one for Eduardo. They would have the Bureau age the faces in those photos electronically and then compare them to the phony passports. While the United States now requires fingerprints on visas for non-U.S. citizens to enter the United States, obtaining a regular U.S. passport lacked this requirement. Forged documents would be required to get the passport or the passport could be forged as well. Bogus passports were trickier these days with online verifications to the federal database, but still possible to obtain.
“Chief,” Ivy said with quiet authority. “Can we discuss the plans for the sting here at Spook Hills?”
Steve frowned at her. “I thought we did that, but okay. We are adding five agents who we trust to spring the trap, assembling a team of “Rent-A-Goons”, as borrowed agents are called at the Bureau.”
“Where will they be?”
“Standard protocol will put them hidden at strategic spots here in the barn, the old house and our house.”
“If the perps think anyone might be here, isn’t that where they would expect them to be?”
“If they know how the FBI works.”
“So why don’t we take an unexpected approach?”
“Something tells me you have an idea worked out. Just come out with it Ivy.”
“Next week is Halloween, right?”
Steve’s impatience was beginning to show. “So what?”
“And we are Spook Hills?” Ivy knew she was irritating Steve but she was hoping that by springing her idea on him slowly, she would hook him in.
“Dammit Ivy. Quit the dance and come out with the idea.”
“We dress up the agents as ghosts. Put them out front, but as stationary objects.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. That’s not how we do things.”
“But maybe this is how the Spook Hills Gang does things. Throw something at them out of the box. Like we are so blissfully ignorant that the perps may hit us that we can be light and silly by having Halloween decorations out.”
Mathew started laughing. “Set up some of those cornstalks too -- you know the ones like a teepee?”
“The Amish call them shocks of corn,” Brian noted.
“Why not put out a big pile of pumpkins?” Steve scoffed, not amused by the ideas.
“Great! We can put some broomsticks outside of the front door too!” Ivy said, ignoring his attitude. “After all, the witches and warlocks will be inside the house cooking up a brew of their own.”
Mathew looked over at Steve. “Com’on Big Guy. Let’s put the Spook in Spook Hills.”
“This is a serious operation, not some damn Halloween party. We go forward as planned.” Steve glared at each of them in turn to emphasize his point.
Disappointed and irritated with Steve, Ivy turned back to her laptop, mumbling. “It’s a good scenario and it goes in the casebook.”
Exasperated, Steve stood up and limped outside. Fall was advancing and the days of rain could start at any time. He shook his head, annoyed at Ivy’s idea and at the way Mathew and Brian had supported her. He looked down the driveway to where it curved near the road. The new sign for Spook Hills, in distinguished black and white with silver highlights, was in place along with two curving stone walls flanking the sides of the drive. They were made from the same grey stone they used on the house; each wall ended in a pillar of stone with a large black carriage lamp on top, looking inviting but dignified.
Even though he had discarded Ivy’s idea, in his mind’s eye he found himself picturing the agent-ghosts down there along with the shocks of corn and piles of pumpkins. He looked over at the unfinished house and then behind him at the barn. If they could do it so that the ghosts really did not look like live agents, it was damn clever, though a bit childish just like some of Astuto’s tactics. It also solved a problem of where to hide agents to cover the perps’ escape route. He wondered if they could pull it off.
He went back into the barn, aware of the lingering annoyance in the air. No one looked at him. He opened his laptop and went over the planned scenarios, noticing that Ivy had added the embellished version of her option. The Spook Hills Gang could have its own ways of doing things and maybe that involved some flair.
“All right Scenario 5.1 it is. Ivy, you are in charge of the ghost and ghoul costumes. Use Brian and Mathew as your models and get Fred to construct an internal stand for the agents to lean against for support since they could be out there for a two or more hours.
“Mathew, you take the corn shocks. Brian, you get the brooms and the pumpkins, then work with Ivy and Mathew. At the end of the drive, I want two agents standing together by
one wall, another one by the sign. Two more will be up here flanking the barn doors. However if the costumes fail to make an agent look like an ethereal, stationary ghost, the plan is off the table.”
“Boo!” Mathew yelled. “Let’s get cracking. Where the heck do I get the cornstalks?”
Steve looked over at Ivy. She had a little smile on her face but said nothing. It made him wonder if she had already ordered the supplies she would need for the agent-ghosts. How did she know he would go for her plan? It was risky. It was unorthodox. Where had this devil-may-care streak in her come from? Was this the same shattered woman who damn near had a nervous breakdown last summer? In the business world, had she always walked a little too close to the edge until it wore her down? One day he would understand the riddle that was Ivy but until that time she would catch him off-guard, and he was okay with that. She had so many layers and aspects to her that for the most part functioned well together. He felt so one-dimensional by comparison and so far behind her in his personal development. He had courage and intellect and he had opened his heart to her. He hoped that over time he would come to know more facets of himself, but that was for after this case against the Fuentes was resolved.
In case the house was watched, the Rent-a-Goons would arrive the morning of the operation, each one packed into a big box, like any of the many deliveries coming in. These boxes would be put in the barn and unpacked, giving the agents access to a microwave and fridge, as well as a jobsite-johnny. Lenny from the Sofia operation was now retired and on the Steve’s list of agents, lending substance if it came to a firefight. While they planned an intriguing setup, if the perps decided not to move in, they would have to plot another strategy. To keep the plan secret, the active FBI agents assigned to them at the farm would not be privy to the plan and the agents they were bringing in would only be briefed once they arrived and were hidden in the barn.
Old Growth & Ivy (The Spook Hills Trilogy Book 1) Page 24
