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

I took the remote and changed to the morning shows, where first amendment rights were being used to thwart the efforts of NYC and state authorities to take possession of the suddenly famous "lists." The networks stated that names had not been named due to efforts to independently substantiate the charges made by the women, who were now being held in protective custody.

Overnight, the ACLU had offered professional services to each woman, and had filed Writs of Habeas Corpus for those accepting their offer. Emergency hearings were scheduled throughout the day, and kinfolk from around the country had flown in after their loved ones were seen on TV or listed among those being held.

Some brought lawyers with them, and many others took advantage of the ACLU offer. Some of the teenagers were limited English proficient, with home languages other than Spanish, and interpreters were needed before they could be understood.

The shit had truly hit the fan, but the real shitstorm began about an hour later; I got the warning from my friend in Washington.

"I hope you're prepared, my friend, for you surely set it ablaze this time! The Great Chicago Fire looks like a marshmallow roast next to this conflagration!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, comrade Yonkers. I've been surfing channels, so I have an idea what's going on, but I've been holed up on one of my ranches, awaiting news on Kaitlyn's condition. I'm obviously not involved."

"Good to hear, but I'm afraid American and Mexican authorities believe you had some role in the death of Petrov and his top lieutenants, and in the disappearance of assistant attorney general de los Santos and his family in Mexico City. They seem to have evidence both were involved in the capture and abuse of your wife and kids, and suspect retribution.

"That set the blaze, but the napalm was the freeing of the women with their lists identifying their rapists and abusers! There are apparently names on that list from the ranks of the high and mighty, and they are howling in desperation!

"I don't know how much security you have, but it isn't enough!"

I snorted. "First, they started this, not me! I'm playing by their rules, and if me and mine are threatened, they and theirs will be too! That's a promise! So if they don't want to see themselves in the crosshairs, they needed to back the fuck off!

"Second, killing me isn't going to change whether the networks and press release the names. They might want to try intimidating them instead of me! I don't have a single list."

****

The subsequent conversation in the communications center was short and to the point. All available Ultimate Solutions personnel from around the country were dispatched to Boerne, Texas, and four top attorneys were flying in with them.

A posting on a dark website appeared an hour later, offering bounties for those complicit in the kidnapping, enslavement, and misuse of the women freed in New York City. It was a placeholder that told the reader to check back frequently; the names would be listed as soon as they were identified.

I'm told there was a lot of traffic on that site, including the FBI, which had received a link seemingly originating from a site in Russia. The folks in New York, DC, and elsewhere were beginning to understand that they aren't immune from retribution. They come after us, we go after them! Damn the torpedoes -- full speed ahead!

Meanwhile, we have a tech firm we trust monitoring the dark web for postings about us, and every other channel for chatter.

Me, mine, Eva, hers, and five of our security staff headed for the hospital. Esteban had been updated, so we were hustled inside and the five men rushed to their assigned stations. I was assured no news vans or feds had been spotted, yet.

The buzz about the rescue had diminished somewhat after the first few news cycles, but spiked again after the deaths in NYC and the kidnapping in Mexico were tangentially tied back to it. The media would not be denied, and they had sources; the time of our reckoning was likely near. This was another time when I'd greatly appreciate our attorneys.

The quick trip to the hospital was uneventful. Kaitlyn was with her psychiatrist when we arrived, but she had improved enough that I was able to spend a half hour with her before my own appointment. I would characterize her interaction with me as being dazed, withdrawn, and barely communicative, but she did let me kiss her forehead and hold her hand while we talked.

She also managed to shrug her shoulders and say "She's okay" when I asked what she thought of Dr. Aleah Thomson. Not the greatest endorsement, but better than a frown.

The assurance that Grace and Dos would visit after I left seemed to raise her spirits a bit, and that they would be accompanied by Eva prompted a wane smile. Not once, however, did I see the feisty woman I found in the mountain compound.

Eva brought all four kids in at little early, at 10:25, so I quickly said my goodbye, gave her another kiss on the head, and left her with her excited children.

Dr. Thomson was way better than 'Okay' in my evaluation. She had a probing mind, a way of gently drawing things out of you, and she restated what she thought she heard me say when she wasn't clear about my meaning, eliminating misunderstandings and often eliciting elaboration.

She was good, and I began to realize (1) that I did have things to share that might help her with my family members, and (2) that I might still have issues to resolve regarding my relationship with Kaitlyn... and possible anger management issues too.

I left buoyed by my time with her and wandered out to check with Esteban. He was inside a big conference room near the nurses station with a large number of strapping men, some of whom I recognized as employees of Ultimate Solutions. They had just arrived on the scene.

I was warmly greeted by Esteban and the guys and gal I knew, and courteously greeted by and introduced to those I did not.

It was like being in a roomful of elite athletes; they were fit, focused, and alert.

Esteban's plan sounded excellent to me; he disbanded them, and they moved out in pairs and threes. I moved to the front of the room with Esteban, and four men in expensive suits filed in behind me. I knew all of them well, in an attorney/client way. They had a good plan too, from legal, PR, and political perspectives.

The odds of me staying both alive and out of prison were still shaky, but that was ultimately going to come down to political and self-preservation decisions by men not in this room. The plan devised by the attorneys, based on our explanation of events, offered those charged with enforcing the laws of their country the possibility of both saving face and covering their asses. It would be tempting to run with it, if they could withstand pressure from those whose oxen had been gored.

The attorneys general of the US and Mexico would make the final calls, and I would know from the tone of the interviews with the FBI and PFM where things stood.

Eva was with Dr. Thomson now, and then she would meet with Dr. Ramos while the kids were entertained by some of our security personnel. They had a 'children's room' with a TV and books to wait in until their respective turns with the psychiatrist arrived.

The call from the FBI came directly to me; I directed the caller to the lead attorney of our group. He had arranged a meeting place in Boerne at the offices of attorneys with whom he had worked before. My inquisitors wouldn't like it, but their questions and my answers would be legally recorded. We weren't leaving room for interpretation, misunderstanding, or misrepresentation.

The sole PFM representative among the four was pleasant and observant, but quiet. I suspected his title included "director" or "special" something; he was not a typical Mexican cop. He introduced himself as Rodolfo Jimenez de Garcia, and shook my hand firmly.

One FBI agent was cordial, one was antagonistic, and one was reserved; he might have "special" or "director" in his title too, given how the others furtively eyed him without directly acknowledging him.

Todd the Little Turd kept trying to take over, but Carl the Cordial kept the proceedings civil, with assistance from my lead counsel, John, who evidenced his displeasure with the scrawny weasel-faced little turd by stopping the proceedings and repeating that we are here to assist them with the case. If I'm a suspect, we will take another tact, he assured them.

The calm demeanors of 'special directors' Dan and Juan were generally helpful, and never more so than when they morphed into looks of disapproval for Todd's foolish blustering.

Don, another attorney, used his laptop to show them a clip of my plea for assistance and the reward offered for the safe return of my family, that had been broadcast around the world. My buddy from Midland, Monroe Carr, then showed them the plea for assistance and the reward posted on the dark web, which were almost identical in wording.

Our final attorney, Beto Ruiz, used his laptop to display the wire transfer of $6m to an offshore account that had taken place as soon as my family was safely back in Texas.

Did they believe it? No. But it was convincing. Could they prove I was on the rescue mission? Not unless they broke one of our guys or one of our allies, and I strongly doubted that would happen. The children -- that was going to be a difficult conversation. "Do not lie" is practically a parental commandment to kids, but they were about to learn the adult version of that commandment.

We will do all we can to keep them from being interviewed, but even an inadvertent statement could cause grief. Eva and I need to address that when we return to the house on the river.

From the law enforcement perspective, that a nameless, faceless organization rescued my family and eliminated the kidnapper / gangsters might seem unlikely, but stranger things have happened for $6m on the world scene.

More importantly, my benign offer of a reward for the safe return of my family had been broadcast worldwide, and supported by both governments. Cover was provided for the bloody outcome with acceptance of our version of events. We offered a reward; my family was returned, along with three more hostages.

That hardened criminals died during the rescue effort was... what? Unfortunate, but acceptable? Or completely unacceptable to Mexico, because they were Mexican citizens? Was I a vigilante who needed to be put in his place, or a concerned father who reached out for help after neither government could?

They wanted the truth, but did those above them REALLY want the truth? Or did they prefer to avoid the PR nightmare of prosecuting a father for hiring some entity to recover his two children and wife after the governments of two countries failed?

Todd - he wanted The Truth! The others might be seeking the high ground, but plausible cover would work, and we offered that.

Our story seemed to be acceptable, and there were signs that the meeting was coming to an end. But Todd had to take another try at intimidating me.

"You know we can check all this hocus pocus, and when it all comes back to you, which I know it will, I'm going to send you to prison for life!"

This little weasel is trying to intimidate me? I frowned, and John shook his head; I ignored him.

"So, let me get this right, Agent Weasel: you are going to prove I ordered... what? A hit on a wanna be cartel that sold drugs to kids, trafficked young girls into the sex trade, carried out the contracted murder of innocent Americans and Mexicans, and kidnapped Mexicans and Americans to sell them to the highest bidders after extracting ransom from their bereaved families, in order to save my own family?

"Oh, and let's not forget that the rescuers also, free of charge, saved another woman and her two children, all of whom have dual citizenship. To make it more interesting to the public, she is a Stanford University trained medical doctor, and a member of the proud Náhuatl tribe!

"You gonna be the big man, out there in front of all the cameras, when you lay out the case for bringing me to justice?

"As handsome and debonair as you are, Agent Weasel, I'm not sure the cameras and media hounds are going to be all that enthralled with your presentation, much less the public.

"I've told you what happened and you've seen the proof. I'll do the same in front of the cameras, shed real tears at the failure of the two governments to assist in recovery of my loving family, and then we can have a jury trial on the facts of the case.

"I can tell by your attitude that you aren't a father, but the jury will be composed of fathers and mothers who will know they would do the same thing if they had the money! Just as these other gentlemen would," I proclaimed, waving my hand around the room.

I turned my attention back to the others. "Do what you will. We've presented the facts to you, and I'll be kind to law enforcement in the many, many upcoming press conferences, unless Agent Weasel goes off the rails. If he does, Katy bar the door!"

"It's agent Wisner, not Weasel!" a red-faced Todd exploded.

"You are what you are, Wisner!

"Now, gentlemen, my beautiful Kaitlyn is recovering from the spleen surgery, the contusions, broken ribs, and internal injuries suffered at the hands of the rapists / kidnappers /sex traffickers / fentanyl dealers / murders from whom she was recently rescued, and visiting hours are limited. I'm going to see her, then check on how the sessions with the psychiatrist went for my beaten and traumatized kids!

"If you want anything else from me, see my attorneys!"

"We will, Mr. MacGregor. Please go take care of your family, and our prayers go with you," said the quiet agent. Todd looked mad enough to spit nails, but the glare he got from the others silenced him.

PFM agent Jimenez waited until the FBI agents filed out, and then quietly said, "There are indeed those in my government who would like to make this about an invasion of armed vigilantes violating our sovereignty. There are many others who would like to congratulate the vigilantes, and still others who are bemoaning the loss of a potential income stream.

"Should the assistant attorney general and his family return, unharmed, I believe much good will would be earned. Perhaps their abductors can find it in their hearts to release him, to face swift justice. I feel many would be persuaded to turn our vision inward, to the conditions that perpetuate acts of officials such as those of de los Santos, should he be indicted and convicted."

I simply nodded, and said we also hoped that would happen.

We shook hands again, and he departed. "Let Claude know," I told Esteban, who nodded. Our attorneys were studiously ignoring us while seemingly studying something on a laptop.

John looked up and said, "That went well, I think. We may have to set a weasel trap, but the others are satisfied. I don't think the pressure from above is as great as we feared. Or perhaps it is splintered by those fearing the release of their names."

****

My visitation with Kaitlyn didn't go nearly as well. She was again mostly unresponsive and distracted, as if she didn't want to be having a conversation with me. She was erecting barriers between us, and she seemed to be slipping away from me.

No matter how I tried to have a pleasant conversation, no matter the topic, she just seemed disconnected. Even about the kids.

I stayed until she said she was too tired to talk any more, and went looking for Dr. Ramos, who I learned had gone home for the evening. I rounded up the others and we went back to the old limestone house on Sister Creek, where two travel trailers were set up near the house in order to connect to the water well and septic system. It surprised me, but with more men in our force I should have expected it.

Someone had the forethought to bring buckets of fried chicken with sides, so the first order of business was to eat supper. It was only six, but I hadn't eaten lunch and doubted anyone but the kids had.

After supper, Eva and I watched a video with the kids and put them to bed at nine.

She told me good night, but paused when I asked, "Eva, I'm asking you as a friend and as medical doctor; does Kaitlyn seem to be getting worse rather than better?"

She hesitated briefly. "Rob, how do you feel about Kaitlyn after all this? I mean, how do you see her? Has your vision of her been tarnished by knowing what happened to her?"

I was taken aback. "Of course not!" I replied indignantly. "I can't believe you asked me that! What happened to her -- and to you, for that matter -- was completely outside her control, and outside your control!"

"I'm not going to put words in her mouth, but as to myself, I had sex with twenty-two times more men over the past three years than I had in the first 28 years of my life! I am being treated for a STD, and it isn't the first I've had.

"When Morales took me, I'd had sex with two men, now the count is forty-four, that I remember, but it could be more. I no longer feel I have that shine, that appeal I had before my captivity. In fact, I can't imagine how any man of substance could consider entering into a relationship with a used-up whore like me!"

I was aghast. "That is the biggest crock of bullshit I've ever heard, Eva! You are a walking dream come true! Beautiful, intelligent, caring, kind, and a great mother; any man would be too damn lucky to have you!"

"You need to have this conversation with Kaitlyn."

****

Two guards accompanied me to the hospital early the next morning, and I waited impatiently for the doctors and techs to finish their rounds and tests. When Mario came out of her room, I was on him immediately, and I asked some hard questions. I knew about the bruises, the ribs, the spleen and kidneys, and the STD; at Kaitlyn's insistence, I hadn't been told about the vaginal and anal tearing that required surgical repair.

Her ability to have and enjoy sex wouldn't be affected after a few months of healing, and she retained the ability to bear children. But, he admitted, with the return to civilization she had grown depressed about her new reality as a victim of rape and abuse, and that was the reason he immediately pushed her into therapy. He suggested I delve more deeply into this with Dr. Thomson when me meet again at 10:30.

I didn't get a chance to see Kaitlyn due to testing and her therapy, nor did I get to delve into anything with the good doctor: she immediately began delving into me! Into my reaction when Kaitlyn left me for Robert, into my feelings about her after our divorce, and about my reluctance to commit to a real future with her, even before the kidnapping and rapes.

Trying to analyze the analyst, I concluded that she wanted to know if Kaitlyn having had sex with Robert was the problem. Circumventing her questions, I explained. "What destroyed me was the duplicity, the lying, the cheating, and the audacity of blaming it on me when it was her and Robert who caused our divorce. Oh, and turning my own kids against me in favor of Daddy Robert!

"The fact that Robert was sticking his cock in her was of little consequence compared to her total betrayal of our life and dreams together, and the destruction of our family!"

The good doctor weathered my outburst, and then rather rudely asked the questions I knew were coming. "So how do you feel about five, six, or twice that many more men 'sticking their dicks in her'? Using her like a two-dollar whore? Giving her the clap?"

I glared at her, my anger palpable. "Had she, of her own free will, left me to go to them, taken on one after another or three at once, had she caught clap by choosing to having unsafe sex with criminals, I'd tell her to go to hell and take the kids!