It Ain't Paranoia if... Pt. 02 Ch. 03

Eva was next. She was barefoot and wore the same peasant dress she had been wearing, but she looked composed, serene, and beautiful in spite of her dress being ragged and rumpled. We greeted her through the screen door and I gave her a warning about the coffee, which she was looking at warily. We watched as she poured the mug two-thirds full. She sipped it, added two packets of sweetener and filled it with creamer, sipped it again, and smiled. She opened the screen door and joined us on the porch, pausing when she saw our rapt looks.

Her big brown eyes were bright with intelligence, curiosity, and love of life. Her straight, glossy black hair was parted in the middle and combed behind her cute little ears. It had not been professionally cut in years, so it fell below mid-back and the ends were uneven. She was slender and lithe, with a long, elegant neck, graceful shoulder, arms, and hands.

The dress hung loosely to her knees, but the shapes and movement under the dress showed she was a well-formed woman, and the shapely ankles, calves, and knees on display hinted at the long, lean thighs I knew she possessed. Don't blame me; getting in and out of helicopters in a dress is not an exercise in modesty, and I was unable to look away quickly enough -- even if I'd wanted to.

She stood just outside the door sipping her coffee and let us drink her in, before offering us a beaming smile. "That reminds me: we need to go shopping today. I intend to burn this dress and the clothes the children are wearing to rid us of those memories."

Turning to me, she asked, "Have you spoken with Dr. Ramos this morning?"

I shook my head. "Not yet."

"Good, I want to listen in," she replied, as she took a seat at the table.

We sipped our coffees, discussed the Hill Country setting, and talked about safe shopping options. Armando knew of several shops in Boerne, and it was decided we would try those first. Eva inquired about internet, and we learned we had fiber access out here, thanks to the rural telephone co-op.

"How exciting! It's been three years since I've had access, and I desperately want to check on my bank accounts and investments. I also need new credit and debit cards; can I have them sent here?"

They gave her the number of a post office box in Comfort, and Armando offered to set her up on the computer. She accepted with another dazzling smile, but held her mug up and said, "After I enjoy another cup of this delicious coffee, more of this delightful morning, and some intelligent adult conversation! You can't imagine how wonderful this is after the misery of the past three years!"

I poured my second cup of jet fuel and went to check on the children. They were in the game room holding iPads loaded with kids programs, talking animatedly. There were two gaming stations I'm sure the guys used, but they seemed uninterested in them. That was good; the 'games' on those were probably not rated G, or however they rate games for children.

Even the boys were happy when I told them we were going clothes shopping in an hour or so. The stuff they were wearing was old, baggy, scratchy, and smelly, and they liked Eva's idea of burning it after they got new clothes.

I got dressed and went back down to the kitchen, where Benito and Armando were cooking huevos rancheros, jamon, and flour tortillas. The salsa ranchero was homemade, as were the tortillas, and the meal was delicious. I'd never had that version of cured ham before, but I definitely would again.

Eva was very pleased with the balances in her accounts, but distressed by how long it would take to get cards. I handed her a business card I rarely use and told her not to worry about it; we'd settle up later. She smiled, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and said she WOULD pay me back; I smiled back and shook my head slightly. She grinned and nodded, "Oh yes I will!" We left it at that, and the crew started getting the vehicles and armaments ready.

The first kids store had everything they wanted, so they bought five sets and wore one. We put their old clothes in a bag and took them along for the ritual burning.

Eva, on the other hand, loved all three of the boutiques Armando directed her to, and she 'shopped' every item in each store; even the knick-knacks.

After her first store, Benito, Jim, and DJ took the bored kids out to the city park to burn off a little steam, leaving Armando and me to serve as Eva's guards/commentators.

"What do you think of this? Is it too much?...How about this one? ...Should I get these shorts too? With this top?"

She might be a highly trained MD, but she was definitely also a woman, and a beautiful one at that. She looked somewhere between mouth-watering and delicious in everything she tried on, and we enthusiastically assured her of our appreciation.

"I'll bet the kids will be ready to eat before long. Think you'll be done soon?"

She fixed me with a contrite look. "I'm sorry -- it's just been so long! Thank you for being so patient! I have everything I need for now, and if I don't buy too much today I'll have an excuse to go shopping again!" she said with delight. For a thirty-two year old doctor with two kids who had just weathered three years of hellish captivity, she could revert to being a teenager without missing a beat.

We were on the way to meet the kids at the Creekside Grill when my phone rang and Mario Ramos, MD showed on the screen. "Sorry it took me so long," he said, "I got your message, but I've been in surgery all morning with the victim of a roller wreck on I10, and I wanted to see her test results before I called. I won't bore you with all the numbers, but bottom line, she's continuing to improve."

"Dr. Ramos, this is Dr. Galvez; I'd like to hear the results."

"Of course, doctor!" he replied, and began excitedly spouting medical gibberish. I turned my attention to our route, and asked Armando about the communications center I'm supposed to use. He said it's in the basement of the house, and that we are scheduled to contact 'headquarters' at 17:15.

I heard Eva ask for clarification, then tell him we'd check back later. I interrupted, asking, "When can she have visitors?" He replied that we should check back after morning rounds tomorrow; the nurses would know whether visitors are allowed, but probably not that soon.

The food was good but pricy, and not as kid-friendly as I'd hoped. They did find a few things they liked, so that turned out okay, and the adults all enjoyed their meals.

We stopped by H.E.B. before we headed back to the house to pick up some groceries, and snacks and drinks for the kids. We also bought some sweets and breads from the in-house bakery, and I visited the butcher shop to buy prime steaks cut to order.

When we got back, Eva and four of the men took the kids to the swimming hole and I went into the com center. After checking with the former secretary of state, I called Raymundo to thank him for the help and make sure he was aware of our plans.

He said Claude had briefed him yesterday, and that he was quite pleased with his new 'allies'. They were having a lot of success in recruiting others to join the 'revolution' against the Sinaloans, that roads and villages were being 'hardened', and the new technology and weapons properly deployed with support from their advisors.

That made me smile; how cool would it be if our misadventure actually resulted in freedom for the indigenous peoples of Chihuahua and Sonora? An unanticipated consequence, for sure, since nearly everyone doubted they would even take part in the rescue, and here they are developing a paramilitary organization!

It was all business after that, as I tried to catch up on everything I had missed over the past week. Only one unresolved deal had gone south, and we were able to resurrect it and get it lined out again.

All in all, I was quite pleased at how well things had gone in my absence, but the events of the past week had upped the sense of urgency for an 'personal assistant' type to keep things going in my absence.

I contacted a headhunter I had used before, and we worked out a job description of sorts. She assured me she would keep an eye out, but wouldn't advertise unless I told her to.

That settled, I checked with my partners in the Dakotas, the Delaware Basin, and the Eagle Ford on projects in those oil and gas fields; all were pleased with profitability and the ongoing development of our assets.

My wealth had been growing by leaps and bounds as money already invested begat more money - that was a good thing, considering the costs of our exploits, past, present, and pending.

Things were not as positive in the Ukraine, the Baltics, or Kazakhstan, but that was expected; lots of unrest involving Russia, and too many politicians looking for handouts in Kazakhstan. My efforts there were in support of the players, in return for nonparticipating overrides, so problems there didn't affect my bottom line - but successes would.

Each phone call I made began with questions about Kaitlyn and our kids, followed by congratulations on their successful rescue, and then we talked business. My answers to the questions about the rescue were fuzzy enough that they read the tealeaves and let that go pretty quickly.

Five-fifteen got here quickly; Esteban had returned for the meeting, and he joined me. After the mandatory update on Kaitlyn and the kids, the Edwards brothers brought us up to speed on our response. After that conversation, Esteban and I agreed to stay up to watch the late news tonight.

They had released the dogs, but we were wreaking havoc!

My updates from Raymundo and the former Secretary were also well received, although investigative efforts in the District of Columbia and the Distrito Federal had not stopped. We were expecting to be visited and interviewed by the FBI and the Mexican equivalent, the Policía Federal Ministerial, or PFM, in the near future.

We reviewed our responses, and the postings on the darknet websites to which we would refer them.

Once again, we had done what we could, but the outcome was uncertain. I hoped we hadn't used up all our luck out there in the dessert.

****

Armando had built a fire in the pit according to my specs, and the steaks had been rubbed when we first got back. I was the grill master for this meal, which featured prime rib eyes, grilled corn on the cob, grilled squash, and a green salad. When the oak and mesquite coals were just right, I began.

Kids don't always appreciate steak, nor do they know how they want it cooked. I don't burn prime steaks, or any other meat, so 'well done' converted to medium in my mind. They were so busy talking and eating corn I'm not sure they even noticed it had a pink middle.

Eva was a carnivore; medium rare for her, and for all of the men except Charlie, who told me to put it on the grill, turn it, and bring it to him. I cooked it a little more than that -- at least until it was warm - but it was still too rare for me, and I order rare!

The grilled veges were very well received by everyone, as was the fresh peach cobbler Armando put together for desert. The good meal induced a contented conversation about a range of topics, none associated with the captivity, rescue, Kaitlyn's state of being, or the trauma that might be below the surface in the children's minds.

Eva looked less tense and more relaxed than I'd seen her look in our short acquaintance, and I saw nothing but joy in the children. Were they that resilient, or was something else lurking below the surface?

Maybe I'm the only one still suffering. My male ego insists I failed in my duty to protect Kaitlyn and our children, and ignores all arguments to the contrary. My conscience asks if having them with me is too dangerous for them, given the ongoing efforts to kill me and harm mine.

My anger senselessly extends beyond my enemies to include Clay and Claude, although I know the security they provided was more than adequate, had Miroslav not become a traitor, and that without them any rescue effort would have failed miserably. Strangely, they feel the same way -- they failed in their duty, and the unthinkable happened.

When things happen that are outside my control, my frustration spreads in all directions. That's a fault I'm aware of and try to manage, but it will be a while before I unwind from this. Without saying anything, I slip out of the dining area as if going to the restroom, but walk down to the river.

The cypress trees casting late afternoon shadows, the swirling eddies in the clear running water, the fish darting from dark spots through sunlit, the wind whispering in the trees, the smell of the river - all stir my senses, and calm my anguish... a bit.

I heard her long before she spoke. "She's going to be alright; the kids will be alright; we're all going to be alright; even you, Rob."

I sighed without answering.

"You're blaming yourself. I know that; it would be your way, because you are a protector and a caretaker. Rationally, you know it wasn't your fault, or Claude's fault, or anyone's fault except the animals who did this to your family, and to me and my children. My husband, had they not killed him first, would have felt the same way.

"I'm well aware of the 'proportional response' you have planned, and I understand -- I really do! Look at the way I prosecuted and persecuted Morales and his men! But it won't make you feel better, any more than what I did erases three years of captivity and abuse!

"Don't lose your soul in your quest for justice and retribution, Rob. You are a good man who has been wronged; don't let them make you one of them!"

"Thank you, Eva. I'll keep your concerns in mind. Would you like to join me? There's a nice cypress root you can sit on right over there."

She did, and her new sundress made me very aware of her lovely legs as we sat and talked.

"Wishing she were here, Rob?" she asked after she caught a few long glances at her shapely stems.

I smiled and nodded. "Not that you aren't just extremely comely and charming, but she and I have a long and complicated history together. We had begun to move past her betrayal and plan a future when this happened. She was still filled with conflicts and guilt, and now I'm afraid... she may not recover from this.

"I'm afraid the grievous injuries to her body are not nearly as great as those to her mind, and that her mind may not be able to recover."

"She begins seeing a psychiatrist, Aleah Thomson, at nine tomorrow," Eva interjected. "I see Dr. Thomson at noon, and the kids have a group session at two, followed by forty-minute individual sessions. From those session will come the plans, and you need to let the plans have time to work, for the sanity of us all.

"An hour beginning at ten-thirty is reserved for you. No, don't give me that look: you need it! But even if you do not, she needs to hear from you to gain insights that will help with the treatment of your family members.

"If you trust me at all, if you trust Dr. Ramos, please do this! Open up to her! Answer every question fully and truthfully. If you want things to work out as well as they can for all of us, you must help her help us!"

"I will."

****

"Breaking news," my phone said about nine. I turned on the TV and set it to CNN, then surfed Fox, MSNBC, and the other 24-hour outlets.

The banner appeared just after Don Lemon broke from reviewing the top stories of the day and began listening to whoever was in his headset.

"We have breaking news!" he cried urgently, as footage of a car fire ran on the screen. "Russian billionaire Serge Petrov and five members of his inner circle died tonight when their limousine exploded in a fireball on a deserted street in the warehouse district of New York City. The six men were seen leaving a bar Petrov owned in Manhattan moments earlier, and it is assumed all were killed in the explosion and fire!

"In potentially related news, another building owned by Petrov was raided by unknown persons at about the same time. At least three armed men were killed in the building, and thirty-two women who claim to have been held captive in the old hotel were freed. Two of the women are speaking to our correspondent right now! Let's listen in.

"Ms. Gattis, would you repeat what you just told me for our live audience?" asked the correspondent, who held a microphone in front of the pretty blonde who looked nineteen or twenty."

"I'm Marie Gattis. I was kidnapped from my home in Tennessee over two years ago by members of the Russian gang headed by Serge Petrov!" she began, speaking as rapidly as a southerner can. "I'm risking my life by saying this, but there are currently about thirty of us being held in that old hotel, where we were used as prostitutes and forced to provide favors to business partners and corrupt officials, including police officials!

"Over my two years in captivity, I've seen two or three times that many girls come in and leave, either having been sold or having been killed! It's about time someone in authority grew some balls and stopped it!"

"Uhh, Ms. Gattis, it is our understanding at his point, that the police do not know who freed you, and are, in fact, seeking those persons responsible as suspects in the killing of the men you say beat you and the others, almost daily. Is that correct?"

"Yes, it's correct!" yelled the pretty brunette beside her. "And they also raped us whenever they wanted, and helped the damn perverts they brought in do unspeakable things to us!"

She spit on the ground, and yelled, "I spit on them, and I spit on the men who allowed this to happen! Yes, we know your names and positions, and we are going to tell the world who you are, what you have done, and the kind of men you are!

"Here are the lists three of us made! Juanita is dead now, but her list lives on. Take them and keep them safe -- the police and officials will try to take it from you and destroy them! Believe me! Too many of the rich and powerful are involved!"

The CNN correspondent was seen taking the lists and handing them to an associate, who scurried away toward the news van behind them.

"We will protect the lists at all costs under the first amendment , Ms. Hansen! Do others have lists like these?"

"Yes! We all made a pact! Send someone to collect them from the others before they are taken and disappear!"

The correspondent called a man and a woman over and gave him instructions. They scurried off, and he began recounting the events and allegations to his audience.

I changed channels, and saw what appeared to be a young girl saying she had a list to back up her charges! She handed it to the Fox correspondent, and two other women stepped forward to hand their 'list' to the assistant, who took them and ran toward the Fox van.

I flipped to a third channel, but a ding on my phone distracted me. "Telemundo en la manana." That was Raymundo.

I stayed up another few hours watching and listening to the mayhem before drifting off to sleep in the recliner. The networks would guard the lists, but they wouldn't divulge the names until their lawyers approved... if ever. It was a chance the trafficked women took, but they knew the lists wouldn't survive in their possession.

Armando woke me early, with a big grin across his round face. He turned the TV on and tuned it to Telemundo, then took a seat on the largest sofa.

It was in Spanish, but I'll give you a summary in English. It seems an assistant attorney general and his family were kidnapped overnight, and a national manhunt had found no trace of them. The AAG was purported to be tough on crime, but his kidnappers left documentation that he was actually tied into several cartels, and had himself committed numerous crimes.

Among those alleged crimes was a role in the kidnapping of the American woman and her children, only recently freed from their captivity in the Chihuahuan uplands. It was also alleged that he participated in the rape of many women, including the American. It was believed he and his family were taken in retaliation.