Chapter 7
"Remember the upside; you'll be closer to me."
In my one-hour-a-day free time, which of course I extended to 2 or 3 hours when possible by cutting out the sleep, I began building a computer suited to my very specific needs. Rangeman's bugging was a high priority. Somebody was persistent. I wasn't too far along in my computer when I found the listening and video devices in my room. When Pierre came to visit I handed him a note explaining my room was bugged but couldn't talk about it directly. He nodded.
"Pierre, these look like something electronic exploded in my room. Maybe the previous resident dropped his stereo system or Play Station." I hope whoever bugged me was listening.
"I'll have Hector come up and look."
A Latino or Hispanic man came to the room. He was about 5'9", well-toned and walked gracefully; the type you didn't want to get in hand-to-hand combat with as his body would be flexible and quick. His most noticeable traits were the gang tattoos especially the teardrop tattoos below one eye. This may be one of the former Jersey penal graduates. I knew the tattoos' meaning and was unaffected. After all, I had done worse for my country and another.
"This is Hector Herrera. He will check your apartment for any other electronic debris. We'll step outside and let him work." The man nodded to me.
Not knowing if the hall was bugged, our conversation remained neutral. "Is he one of the exceptions you mentioned in the park?"
"Yes. He only speaks Spanish but everyone here also speaks the language. It is a prerequisite what with all the Latinos moving into the area."
He obviously was their electronic tech but he only speaks Spanish? That didn't sound efficient. I raised an eyebrow to indicate he needed to elaborate.
"He's also a whiz in designing and building security systems. He has a big work area in the basement. He does field work. While he wears a handgun per regulation, he's a knife expert and ruthless. He scares the crap out of us."
"But only speaks Spanish….?"
"Yeah, he's our Latino Ninja," Pierre said. After a moment he winked at me.
Ah, I understood. Hector spoke English but only a few people knew. I continued with Tank's dialog, "Silent killer who gets in close as opposed to someone with a big gun who works from a distance," I laughed. "Of course you guys are scared shitless."
"And you?" he asked.
"I'll pacify him with my charms."
We discussed menus from Ella, our next Vitamin D excursion, anything to pass the time and bore any eavesdroppers. A few minutes later Hector emerged from my apartment with an isolation box to blind and deafen any bugs. Looking squarely at the box I asked, "Tienes todo?" (You have all?")
Hector looked surprised for a moment but then shut down his expressions and nodded.
"Por favor, examina mi silla?" I asked, pointing to my chair.
He waved his electronic wand over the chair, pausing at my lap where I was sitting on my computer. I winked.
"Nada," he said as he looked at my lap in particular.
"Seis?" I whispered. (Six?) I wasn't sure there weren't microphones in the hall and didn't want my conversation recorded.
"Sí, son los mismos que los demás." (Yes, like the others)
"Y Aqui?" I said with a smirk and my finger pointing to my buttocks.
His eyes laughed, "No hay errores allí." (No bugs there.)
He shook his head as he walked away. Tank would have to have a secret talk with him and explain what I was doing at Rangeman and why I was sitting on a computer but not before I cleared him from my investigation.
After Ranger learned of the bugging in my room, he called all Rangeman and staff (Luis, Ella, and Stephanie) to assemble in the Rangeman gym. Everyone milled around wondering why the boss had called this unprecedented meeting. For a short period, no Rangemen were on the streets: everyone was in the gym.
The meeting's pretext was indignation on possible voyeurism at Rangeman instead of the real purpose of espionage.
As I rolled into the gym, Tank called the assembled to attention. Since most were former military the reaction was swift. I loved the sound of leather boots slapping together. Those not military quickly followed.
"Ladies and gentlemen, in case you don't know me, I am US Army Colonel Vassiliki Chrystofondodoulous. I am here receiving rehab from Dr. Brown." I went on to describe my apartment's bugging and the gross honor violation as well as Rangeman protocol and trust. I loved getting a chance to chew ass and was relishing this meal. "I hope the individual who put surveillance cameras in my apartment has gotten his or her voyeur jollies watching a crippled woman dress and undress, go through various bodily functions including my treatment's unpleasant effects…and who probably who snores in her sleep. I will find out who the sexual pervert is and I will crucify him...or her. FYI people, my early work in the Army was as a sniper. I was also trained in advanced aggressive tactics. When I first met Carlos Manoso, I cleaned his clock and very nearly did Tank's except I broke his jaw. Though I am now confined to this chair, I'm still sneaky as hell and Ram will agree with me, my aim is still spot on. When I'm finished with the SOB, I will turn their carcass over to Ranger and Tank to mete out justice on the mats."
Discipline at Rangeman was often very painful. I watched their faces. Most Rangemen were embarrassed and horrified one of their group was a voyeur. About a half dozen were nervous. It was a long time before new surveillance devices appeared in my room, but they did return. I simply smashed new ones.
-0-
Friday nights for Rangemen who had the evening off meant pizza and beer at Pino's bar. Perhaps as an apology for the invasion of my personal space, I was invited to Pino's. After conferring with Bobby, Pierre asked me if I wanted to go. My smile was blinding. Other than my trips to Newark for treatment and the time Pierre could carve out for a Vitamin D stroll, I left the building only long enough to roll up and down the sidewalk in front of the building during my precious one-hour liberty.
Getting through Pino's front door wasn't a problem. It was getting up the steps to the back room that presented the challenge. Lester ran down the steps offering to carry me. I looked at him carefully. We were the same height, if I could stand. Could he really carry me?
"You get the chair Lester, I don't want you fondling her," Pierre grumbled. I laughed but was secretly grateful. Ranger was at the table head with his back against the wall. Pierre sat to his left and I was on Pierre's left. Stephanie was on Ranger's right and across from Pierre. The rest of the Rangemen were situated down both sides of the long table.
Stephanie was laughing at my entrance. "I don't think I've seen someone carried over Pino's threshold," she said.
"Technically, I rolled over the threshold and was carried up the stairs. Tank is the only one strong enough to carry my fat ass up and down stairs," I replied.
That drew many guffaws around the table. "You haven't given the rest of us a chance, darlin','' the cowboy named Woody smiled. His upper body development, like all the men around the table, indicated Pierre wasn't the only one who could carry me. Hmm, that might be fun.
Pierre growled which brought more laughter.
I looked at Woody, "Where you from, cowboy?"
"New Braunfels, Texas, ma'am."
"Du musst Deutsch sprechen." (You must speak German) I stated.
"Ja, meine Dame, mit einem texanischen akzent." (Yes, ma'am with a Texas accent).
"Herr, erbarme dich (Lord, have mercy)," I gasped and laughed.
I looked around, most were slowly figuring out what we said.
"How many languages do you speak?" Lester asked.
"As a child, I spoke five foreign plus English. I've added a few more over the years. I've never counted the number. No need." Only Pierre knew he knew about my forced Arabic instruction.
"Five," Stephanie gasped. "Why?"
"My father was born in Greece when his parents were visiting relatives there. They wanted the grandparents to meet the new baby. Both parents were naturalized US citizens, so he automatically became one. My mother was from Martinique but became a citizen at twenty-one. They taught us their native languages, Greek and French. The other languages came as we moved around. Kids pick up languages quickly. How many languages do you speak, Stephanie?"
"Just English, but I'm proficient in rude Italian hand gestures. It comes in handy in the Burg. I'm learning Spanish now that I work here, since so many of our clients are Spanish speakers."
"Smart."
While beers were consumed, I stuck to water. When the pizzas arrived my salad order was close behind. "What no pizza?" Stephanie asked. "Oh, I forgot, you are a health nut like Ranger."
I wasn't offended. "I'm secretly addicted to these pickled peppers. These are pepperoncini, also called friggitello, you probably recognize these cherry peppers, Hungarian wax, and of course these jalapenos. I'm surprised at the selection." Feeling a bit snarky I added, "Steph, you might up your veggie intake with pickled vegetables, giardiniera."
Stephanie shook her head, "Nice try, but that won't work. I'm familiar with giardiniera. I do love olives, though."
I groaned, "What type: Kalamata, Amfissa, Manzanilla, Castelvetrano, Cerignola, the salty black Nyon, Niçoise, Liguria, Alfonso, or black Mission?"
Stephanie was laughing, "Green, with pimento. You sure do know your olives."
"I adore them. Papa told me in the villages in Greece when Lent was early in the year before the wild greens were available, people subsisted on olives and bread."
Stephanie smiled, "Add peanut butter and you have a full meal."
"Hmm, sounds yummy," I responded.
Bobby, ever the doctor jumped in, "Careful of your salt intake, VC."
I nodded, "I can dream." Then turning back to Stephanie and indicating the pizza on the table I said, "I'd love to tuck into a piece of pie but don't want my ass to get large, remember."
"Colonel, right now you don't need to worry. If it becomes an issue we'll just make sure you spend more time in the gym with us guys," Lester interjected with a wiggle to his eyebrows.
"Buttock exercises are difficult for me, guys. It's not like I can swing my legs about, yet. I really do appreciate all your help. Nothing like a dozen drill instructors to keep one motivated," I mused.
"And our language is better than most DIs," Ram said. After others chuckled, he raised his beer bottle, "Here's to success."
I nodded in agreement. I turned to Stephanie, "Stephanie, I never see you in the gym."
Someone muttered, "Steph does only enough to remain legally employed."
I smiled, "I wish I could eat pizza and drink beer without after effects. You must avoid sweets."
That brought a laugh from everyone who heard me, including Stephanie.
"My sweet tooth is well known. So far, good Hungarian genes have kept me from expanding. Plus, sugar is forbidden at Rangeman."
"Are you totally Middle European?" I asked.
"No, my father is Italian."
"Be careful, pizza, beer, peanut butter, and sweets, you don't want to become a giant Mama Mia!"
-0-
Maybe the Mama Mia comment got Stephanie thinking. Suddenly she came to the gym when I was there. She started with the bike and treadmill, two devices I hoped to get back to...someday. We often worked together on floor exercises and upper body development.
In return for my Mama Mia comment several days before, she threw back, "You'll never catch Tank in upper body development." I smiled, "I'll settle for catching him any way I can," I said as I used the hand weights. That brought chuckles from Steph and whoever else was in the gym at the time. I was a bit embarrassed. I had never been that overt.
"What about you, Steph? When are you going to pin down Ranger?"
"Well, ah...it's complicated."
I was going to spout some profound saying but decided...what did I know? I've remained celibate ever since Egypt, never dating, well, only in a group. We worked in silence for a while and then I asked her, "How long were you in Ruidoso before we met at El Camino?"
"The six of us had been there for a week. It is unusual for the Core Team to get away together and for so long, but they had been working on a project, nonstop for weeks. All were burning out."
VC remembered Silvio telling her the attacks started thirty-six hours before he called her. Add six hours for her travel and it was highly unlikely Stephanie, Hal and the Core Team were behind the cyber-attacks. She would have to make friends with Hector in the basement to review Rangeman computer work to determine the "nerd" level of the employees. From Silvio's conversation, the attacker's computer knowledge was high.
"Usually guys resent female intrusion in their private times."
"Most of the guys here and especially the Core Team are like brothers to me. They have helped me out of one disaster after another. Originally, I was entertainment, but I've won them over by accepting them as family no matter how scary they are. Some are still fighting PTSD. I'm nonjudgmental and available anytime they want to speak…and sometimes, when they don't."
"So if the Core Team was in New Mexico, who minded the shop here?"
"Ram and Manny. Bones filled in for Bobby."
"I know Ram and Manny, but don't think I've met Bones."
"He works nights. His wife is a night nurse at Helen Fund hospital. She was a military nurse. Bones was a medic. He's the oldest employee at 45, not counting Luis and Ella. He's content to do monitor work and help Bobby from time to time. He also keeps the vehicle fleet running."
I chuckled, "Keeps the mechanical and human fleet running. What do you do around here?" I was pretty sure I could scratch off Ram, Manny, and Bones from the list, but would check.
She went on to explain her position as a bounty apprehension agent for her cousin but now works almost exclusively for Rangeman, only helping her cousin from time to time. Her Rangeman work is doing searches, background checks and helping with paperwork.
"Did you develop the search programs?" I knew she didn't as I had written one, gave it to Silvio to give to all the Rangeman offices.
Stephanie laughed, "Hardly. I input info and hope I get out something we can use. My creativity is thinking outside the box, trying to understand lifestyles so I can figure out where they are hiding."
She then asked me, "What do you do with the Army?"
"Very much like what you do here at Rangeman. My division filters through worldwide information, finding people, things or looking for patterns that indicate problems. When we find something, we tell others."
"Sounds safe, how were you injured?"
"A building fell on me."
She looked horrified and was about to ask more questions when I stopped her. "The rest is top secret, nobody here knows more, not even Tank." Pierre did know the details but hadn't told anyone else, not Ranger or Bobby. I needed to change direction, "So, tell me where one finds a doughnut around here?"
She laughed out loud, "I thought you didn't eat contraband? Not in this building, that's for sure. I'll gladly sneak something in."
"Good to know, I thought I was going to have to plan an escape including alternate transportation. I have a serious apple fritter addiction. I need a break from making good food choices." I had no desire for a fritter, I was making noise.
Changing the conversation course I asked her, "Are you tracking an FTA now?"
"I am, for my cousin Vinnie. It is too low bond for Rangeman. Carmen Q-P, short for Quesada-Perez, has a shoe fetish but doesn't like to pay for them. She goes into the stores, tries two sizes on of numerous pairs, rearranges the shoes in the boxes, putting one left over shoe in each box and the purloined pair in her over-sized purse. In essence, she's stealing two pairs of shoes, as what is left behind is useless."
"It must be some purse to hold shoes."
Stephanie thought about Lula and her oversized and bedazzled purses and her own messenger bag. "Big purses are common in the Burg. Also she only steals the higher-priced, designer shoes." She got off her bike and came and sat with me on the floor. I handed her a hand weight and she started to use it.
"That's why she's on your radar. If she were stealing shoes from a mass retailer or second-hand store there wouldn't be the concern."
"When Carmen is caught, she quickly bonds out then skips on her court appearance. She doesn't return until the bond expires several weeks later."
"How many times has she vanished?"
"This is her third skip. In addition to the shoplifting, she has the three failures to appear. She should be back in town as her bond expired ten days ago or so she thinks. Vinnie has filed for an extension citing her propensity to return after the deadline."
"Would her numerous skips increase her bond?"
"None of her bonds are that great. Usually others with higher bonds take precedence, but I specialize in lower bonds."
"With her record, I'm surprised anyone will bond her out."
We both switched hands with our weights.
"She's not considered dangerous or a risk to the public, her bonds are $500. Jails are so full that the nonviolent offenders are released or receive a low bond. This last time though, she stole several $2,000 pairs of shoes."
"Seriously? There are $2,000 shoes for sale here in Trenton?"
"Hey, we aren't the bottom of the heap, close, but not the bottom," she defended.
"Are there only three shoplifting charges?"
"She's been caught three times. Estimates are she has sixty stolen pairs over the past five years. I suspect she's done more than that especially if she also works outside the immediate area."
"She must have a larger place to live to house the shoes. After all, Imelda Marcos had a palace or two for her collection," I said.
Stephane waved her hand, "Sixty pairs isn't that many. A good-sized closet could easily hold sixty. If she had hundreds, yes, that would require special storage."
Sixty pairs aren't considered that many? I reviewed my closets over the last ten years. At most, at any time was four pairs. "I take it her address is bogus."
"The number belongs to a burned-out home on Gaylord."
"Does she have a family? Are there signs of addiction, perhaps, and she's doing this for money? Finally, is there any information on where she runs to?"
Stephanie shrugged, "I have nothing. She has no family and very few friends here."
"The dates she steals the shoes, are they regular? I'm thinking payday, social security check, something like that?"
"She has no employment record. She could be a ho or supports herself through shoplifting."
"Possibly both, or she has a companion who pays the bills. Are there regular, traveling, entertainment troupes coming through the area?"
"What do you mean?"
"Drag queen shoes, fashion show, poker tournaments, something where expensive shoes are the norm."
Stephanie shrugged, "Maybe. I'll look into it. But if she isn't keeping them she could be stealing them for someone else. If they are for her, she's either wearing them at a second location, for example, Atlantic City and tossing them. A real shoe junkie hangs on to all."
"Spoken from experience?" I asked.
"Yeah, I even had trouble throwing away old athletic shoes unless they have been vomited upon."
I put my weight down and started stretching my shoulders and upper arms and thinking out loud. Stephanie didn't bother stretching. I said nothing. "So, she has transportation. I assume you've already checked car registration or driver's license. If not personal transport, then public transportation or she has an accomplice. Going back to the burned-out home, good chance she lives in the same neighborhood to know the address is not inhabitable. Tell me about the neighborhood: transient or long-term residences?"
Stephanie thought, "Probably more transient than permanent, but it's a mix."
"She's not running from building to building with her collection. That would be too much effort. Set up a search, longest residences using utility bills, female names first. If that doesn't work run male names. How old is she?"
"Thirty-two."
"If she's been at this since she turned 18, then the residence search shouldn't need to go back beyond 14 years. As for transportation, how does she get to each store? If she is using buses, work your way through the system to figure out what bus routes. She might have a boyfriend who could also be her transportation. Then again, she could be using a male name for rent. Sift through the names for ages, social security and so on. Speaking of shoes, what sizes are she stealing? If something like an eight and eleven, then we'd be looking at someone with a deformity to have two different size feet."
"Six and seven."
Laughing, I replied, "Do they actually make size six? One size difference is fairly common, darn it. Well, with the small size six she's probably not a male crossdresser. If she wore a 13 like me, you should be considering Ms. Q-P is actually a Mr. Q-P."
Stephanie thanked me and left the gym. Three days later she popped in carrying a small gift bag with tissue paper. "I brought you a little something."
"Fertilizer for my plant?"
"Yep, Vince and I found a neat shop next to a shoe store. Who knew it had been there all these years? It was filled with interesting items, wall to wall. This is for your fruit tree," she said as she handed me the bag.
Ah, code, she got her shoe maven with Vince's help and I suspected my fruit tree fertilizer was an apple fritter in a plastic bag inside the gift bag. "I'm sure my plant will thoroughly enjoy this treat. Thank you." OK, I didn't have a fruit tree, but rather a near bush called a Peace Lily. I'd give the treat to Lester. He seemed to have a sweet tooth like Stephanie's.
About six weeks into Rangeman torture, my toes and feet began to twitch. A trip back to Israel was necessary. Bobby went with me for the evaluation. What he didn't know is I was also going to Israel to get a handle on what was happening at Rangemen. The bugging and attempted attacks on the computer system continued intermittently. My searches through Rangeman and my own machine were limited, hidden behind security screens that required more intensive hardware to break. I needed a more clandestine network to search US info sources.
When Bobby and I returned, I met Ranger far from Rangeman. The location was an abandoned building made mostly of concrete that reduced sound wave travel. Pierre had brought a new lightweight chair. We were never sure if my heavier chair was bugged. I pushed myself into the warehouse to the designated area in the very center of the building.
"Ranger, what do Jeanne Ellen Burrows, Joyce Barnhardt, Lee Sebring, and Julio Leon Gaspar mean to you?"
Ranger's eyes gave away nothing. I reminded myself not to play poker with him. "That will take some time to explain."
I sat patiently listening to Ranger's association with Jeanne Ellen Burrows. It wasn't pleasant. "When I was about eleven, she convinced me to run drugs for her, while I spied on other people."
"Fellow gang members?"
"No, other gangs, non-gangs, I was to keep my eyes open."
"What was your payment?"
"First, I received money, then drugs and alcohol, and later sex with her."
My eyebrows rose, "You matured early."
He looked disgusted, "I said, 'later', when I was fourteen."
"Did you personally use the drugs and alcohol?"
"Some, but mostly I supplied fellow gang members."
"Did they know you were a snitch?"
"I wanted to live. I was upfront about it from the start. We devised ways to mislead her, use her against our enemies, then we'd split the payments."
"Did she ever catch on?"
"I don't think so. At fourteen, I was sent to Miami to my abuela's for 'retraining'. I heard she went onto bigger things."
"What?"
He was hesitant.
I broke the silence, "She continued being a bounty hunter and sexual predator, blackmailer, but moved on to mercenary for deeper pockets."
"You know?"
I smiled, "Not everything, but her name rang a bell so I looked into it. You worked with her on two occasions. Your debriefings didn't exactly sing her praises but you didn't condemn her either. You've maintained a very detached relationship with her almost as if you are trying to avoid her."
"Did Tank tell you about my work?"
'No, I've known for years." I silently cheered when he left Special Ops to run Trenton while Manoso was away. "Tell me about Julio Leon Gaspar?"
"Whoa, back up, you knew for years?"
"Your name...and Pierre's...have shown up in intelligence work. Well, actually I was doing extra mining so I could keep an eye on him hoping we'd meet again. Now, back to Julio Leon Gaspar." He wasn't satisfied with my answer about me knowing about him, but let it pass just as I knew he was not totally forthcoming in his answers.
"He has a bail bonds office out of Newark. Jeanne Ellen works for his company when she's in the country."
"She also works with Lee Sebring here in Trenton," I added. "What is your relationship with Julio Leon Gaspar?"
"We were in the same gang in Newark, originally. We were OK together initially, but grew apart. When I came back from the service, I suggested we start a company together. He pulled a gun on me and told me no."
"Sounds like a serious relationship degrade. What happened?"
"I thought he might have had something going on more personal with Jeanne Ellen and didn't want me back in the picture. Or, maybe it was me back from the Army, all hot to trot. I got the name Ranger in Newark."
I was thinking there was another possibility but didn't know what.
Ranger continued, "I started doing my other work to get capital to as startup money for Rangeman. Eventually, I moved here so as not to impinge on Julio's territory."
"Did he and Jeanne Ellen have a fling?"
"I don't know. As I said, I haven't touched her since I was fourteen. We worked together, as you said, and she did her best to get me in bed, but, frankly, no matter how badly I needed sex, I would not touch her."
"How did she take your rejections?"
"She was still trying to dominate me. She got frustrated but found someone else."
"Now?"
"She knows better."
"Is there still bad blood between you and Julio?"
"We are business associates. We can work together, but we won't be going out drinking together."
"Lee Sebring."
"He has his own local bail bonds business. He already had employees and didn't need me so I went with Vincent Plum."
"Stephanie's cousin. When did you meet her?"
"I didn't know her until a year later when she came to work for him. I was paying back a favor from Connie Rosolli, Vinnie's secretary, teaching Stephanie how to be a BEA."
"Back to Lee, are you on good terms with him?"
"Friendly, but we don't work together. Jeanne Ellen works for him when she's not in Newark."
"Joyce Barnhardt?"
He shook his head, "Local Skank. Silicon-enhanced bimbo marries rich guys and then they quickly divorce her, dropping a ton of cash to keep her away. She's made a fair living at it. She and Stephanie are arch rivals, have been from grade school."
"Does Barnhardt have any tie-ins with Jeanne Ellen, Julio Leon Gaspar, Lee Sebring?"
"None that I know."
"Have you had any interaction with these three recently?"
"Jeanne Ellen, about a year ago, briefly consulting on a case via phone. As I said, Lee has his own agents. Gaspar, I tend to avoid."
I sensed something missing in his statement but went on. "When was the last time you worked…..or were in…..Central and South America?"
He shook his head no, he wasn't going to answer.
"Let me come at it from another angle. Who have you pissed off in the FBI?"
He had a slight smile, "The whole agency, or do you want a specific person?" He was remembering his conversation with Silvio in Dallas months ago.
"Person. The agency's file on you, while impressive, isn't damning."
"You've read my FBI file?" He was surprised but remembered Silvio's conversation in Dallas about her ability to slip in and out of secure spaces without being caught.
"And so have you. Hector is good, but not perfect, he's left a few smudges I had to clean up."
This time Ranger raised an eyebrow. "You might want to help him clean up his techniques."
"I plan on it. Now, back to the question. Is there someone in the FBI or former FBI who has it out for you?"
"None that I know."
Once again, he was lying but I wasn't sure how it played. "None of your post-Army jobs were sanctioned by the FBI, but several had secondary ties into some of their concerns."
He remained quiet.
"At any time, did you have a feeling something or someone wasn't right?"
He was still quiet.
"Yeah, I know, they ALL had had elements of a clusterfuck in the making. Let's try this: Alberto Diego Carreras, Mohammad Al-Shammas, Yefim Kuznetsova, and El Lagarto you know, or knew personally."
He was surprised but his eyes got hard. "How did you get that information? All of those were top secret."
"I was indirectly responsible for sending you on one of your missions. Also, there are degrees of top secrecy."
"Are you one of my handlers?"
"No, I or my staff make suggestions and others decide the worthiness. You eliminated all except Kuznetsova. You only were to destroy is enterprises. He's been slowly building back up but staying in the Balkans….so far. Several names keep popping up on the perimeters: El Falcon, Luis Correra-Olivias, Juan Diego Escalante, and El Contador. What do you know about them?"
"I've heard the names."
"El Falcon has been in the undercurrents for decades before you or I entered the playing field. He's slippery, hard to define; maybe a minor player, maybe a major player who hides well. I got a tingle about him in the Middle East, but he quickly disappeared. He's been in most of Central and South America including Brazil, Ecuador, and Nicaragua."
"I've never had to find him, just feelings."
"Luis Correra-Olivias?"
"Snitch. He'd sell out his abuela."
"Did you use him as an information source?"
"Yeah, but any of his information came with an uneasy feeling. He plays all sides. My cover was El Cubano a hard ass who also played all sides."
"Juan Diego Escalante?"
"El Fantasma. I can't confirm he actually exists. If he does, he's usually associated with assassinations."
"Finally what do you know about the accountant, El Contador?"
"He is not an accountant, at least for money. His tag is 'he manages problem accounts.' I have nothing specific on him, but often felt he and El Fantasma were one in the same."
"What have you told your handlers about these four…or three?"
He didn't speak.
"General Buttkicker and Colonel DogFace."
There was a hint of movement on the side of his mouth, a Ranger smile.
"One is my boss and the other a pain in my side; which is which doesn't matter. Now what have you told those two men or even General Anders."
"You know him?" he said quietly. Then he paused, "Of course you do. Mainly I had feelings which don't translate well into reports."
"Ranger, so far you've given me pabulum. You have more. I don't care if they are only feelings or strange encounters. Most of my work begins with feelings. Nothing leaves here."
We spent another hour talking.
"Now before you go I've got some good news. In reviewing the Core Team and Stephanie's computer work, nobody is computer savvy enough to pull off the assaults on the firewalls."
"What about Tank?"
"Yes, of the New Mexico five he is the most computer savvy. I see no coding in his work. I am not letting my feelings for him blind me."
"What about the bugging?"
"The timing is wrong. The devices are not designed to be turned on and off. When they were installed they went active immediately. The Core Team, Hal, and Stephanie were in New Mexico with you when they were installed. I'm slowly working through the rest of the Rangeman staff for grudges, blackmail, or hidden computer skills to determine if someone within is fiddling with programs and devising new ways to use the software. My search will take time. I'm feeling the threat is coming from outside with someone inside aiding. "
"Luis, Ella, and Hector?"
"They will be checked as well, especially Hector."
The meeting was over. When I left the building Pierre was waiting beside his personal truck. After helping me in, he kissed me. He did not ask about the meeting, he knew not to. "Where to Sweet Lips?"
His calling me Sweet Lips knocked me back into the moment. "Is there someplace where I can experience nature or maybe a scenic view of the Delaware River without industrial garbage?"
He nodded, "Washington's Crossing isn't far. We can go and neck there."
I laughed out loud. It was a good cathartic release after the past two-plus hours with Ranger. "That would be perfect, thank you."
-0-
Back at Rangeman, during one of my rest periods, I let my mind travel through Ranger's information and what I was finding in my on-going searches. Yes, the FBI had a thick file on Rangeman, and Carlos Manoso in particular, but nothing to warrant bugging his operation. I searched other government records, including those of his handlers and the many alphabet government agencies that continued to recruit Ranger's skills. I, too, was getting tingles. There were two abnormalities: no US government agencies had records of El Falcon or Juan Diego Escalante though they did appear other countries' files. One local name from my research didn't mesh with my early hypothesis: Joyce Barnhardt.